#subterranean my beloved

[dragonpropaganda]

The Architecture of Rain World: Layers of History

A major theme in Rain World's world design that often goes overlooked is the theme of, as James Primate, the level designer, composer and writer calls it, "Layers of History." This is about how the places in the game feel lived-in, and as though they have been built over each other. Here's what he said on the matter as far back as 2014!

The best example of this is Subterranean, the final area of the base game and a climax of the theme. Subterranean is pretty cleanly slpit vertically, there's the modern subway built over the ancient ruins, which are themselves built over the primordial ruins of the depths. Piercing through these layers is Filtration System, a high tech intrusion that cuts through the ground and visibly drills through the ceiling of the depths.

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets, the friendly local ghost, tells the player of the "bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks," highlighting this theme of layering as one of the first impressions the player gets of Subterranean. Barely minutes later, the player enters the room SB_H02, where the modern train lines crumble away into a cavern filled with older ruins, which themselves are invaded by the head machines seen prior in outskirts and farm arrays, some of which appear to have been installed destructively into the ruins, some breaking through floors.

These layers flow into each other, highlighting each other's decrepit state.

The filtration system, most likely the latest "layer," is always set apart from the spaces around it. At its top, the train tunnels give way to a vast chasm, where filtration system stands as a tower over the trains, while at the bottom in depths, it penetrates the ceiling of the temple, a destructive presence. (it's also a parallel to the way the leg does something similar in memory crypts, subterranean is full of callbacks like that!)

Filtration system is an interesting kind of transition, in that it is much later and more advanced than both of the areas it cuts between. This is a really interesting choice from James! It would be more "natural" to transition smoothly from the caves of upper subterranean to the depths, but by putting filtration system in between, the two are clearly demarcated as separate. The difference in era becomes palpable, the player has truly found something different and strange.

Depths itself is, obviously, the oldest layer not only of subterranean but of the game itself. The architecture of Depths has little to do with the rest of the game around it, it's a clear sign of the forgotten civilisations that our friend Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets showed us, there's not actually that much to say about it itself, it's mostly about how it interacts with the other layers of subterranean.

That said, Subterranean is far from the only case of the theme of layers of history. It's present as soon as the player starts the game!

The very first room of the game, SU_C04, is seemingly a cave. It is below the surface, the shapes of it are distinctly amorphous rather than geometric. (well. kind of, it doesn't do a very good job of hiding the tile grid with its 45 degree angles.)

But let's take a closer look, shall we?

See that ground? it's made of bricks. The entire cave area of outskirts is characterised by this, the "chaotic stone" masonry asset is mixed with brickwork, unlike the surface ruins which are mostly stone. This, seemingly, is an inversion of common sense! The caves are bricks and the buildings are stone. This is not, however, a strange and unique aspect but a recurring motif.

This occurs enough in the game for it to be clearly intentional, but why would materials such as bricks be used in otherwise natural looking terrain?

The answer lies in the "Layers of History" theme. This is in fact, something that happens in real life, and it's called a tell

To be specific, a tell is a kind of mound formed by settlements building over the ruins of previous iterations of themselves. Centuries of rubble and detritus form until a hill grows from the city. Cities such as Troy and Jericho are famous examples. The connections to the layers of history theme are pretty clear here, I think. Cities growing, then dying, then becoming the bedrock of the next city. The ground, then, is made of bricks, because the ground is the rubble of past buildings. The bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks!

[delta-orionis]

girl help I’m listening to the Touhou OSTs on loop again

[walugus-grudenburg]

I came in thinking "Oh, this'll be easy, nothing can beat Subterranean Sunrise. It's by far my second favorite song from one of my favorite soundtracks, I submitted it for a damn good reason."

And, well, I was partially right. The first part was right. It's an easy choice. Subterranean Sunrise has nothing on Keepsake of Oblivion. I'd never heard the latter before, but now I'm really glad I have. What an incredible song!

Please, give Subterranean Sunrise a listen. It's a very good song in my opinion. One of the best. But let's just say I'll be pretty shocked if you listen to both of them and still vote for it, because Keepsake of Oblivion here is just ridiculously good.

Keepsake of Oblivion sweep!

Video Game Track Bracket Round 2

Vagrant Counting Song of Retrospection/Keepsake of Oblivion from Kirby: Planet Robobot

vs.

Subterranean Sunrise from Rogue Legacy 2

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Vagrant Counting Song of Retrospection/Keepsake of Oblivion:

this is a long one (~8 minutes) but my god is it so good. i don't even really know how to adequately explain the in-game context this song(s) play in, but it fits perfectly and i would argue this is the best final boss theme the kirby series has had (although i don't think i've really properly listened to forgotten land's one, so i might be biased). i don't really have anything else to say aside from "just listen for yourself" but if i was well educated in music theory and terminology you can bet your ass i'd be writing a full analysis rn

Subterranean Sunrise:

Absolutely banging track! It's so good, it was one of the two songs (one per artist) that was released as a sneak peak before the game itself was.

[rosieofcorona]

All We Do Not Say

Hi beloveds! I have crafted a soft little Gale fic for you because it's my firm belief that everyone's favorite wizard deserves all the warmth in the world. 😌 Also on AO3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

There was a time in his life that Gale could sleep anywhere, provided he had a good book and a space to sit down. 

In Waterdeep, he might wake in his armchair or on his balcony with the weight of an ancient tome still resting in his lap, or at his desk, his cheek pressed against parchment. The smell of it, of ink and lignin, would bring him back to his senses before his eyes were fully open, and he’d recall what he’d been studying, and begin reading again. 

At home, in his tower, he could do this night after night and still feel mostly rested come morning. 

But he is far from his tower, and farther each day.

Perhaps it is the orb that keeps him up as of late, with its insatiable, unnatural hunger, or perhaps it is the tadpole that wriggles and pulses impatiently inside his skull. Or it could, he supposes, be the simpler and less curable matter of aging– an affliction that seems, on occasion, more frightening than either of the others. 

Whatever the cause of his recent insomnia, it pulls Gale into a rather distressing cycle– he cannot sleep, so he cannot focus, so he cannot read, so he cannot sleep. 

Instead, he finds himself offering to keep watch over camp in the evenings, if only for the distraction. The far-off gibbering of a newborn gnoll, the crunch of foliage under goblin feet, an animal scream– each night a fresh and distant horror calls his mind away from greater threats, from illithids and tadpoles and gods.

It’s an odd remedy, he knows. But the alternative is lying awake in his tent, turning death over and over in his mind until the thought is worn smooth as a river stone. 

It works well for a time, keeps his mind on the present and off of some vague, future doom.

That is, at least, until they reach the Underdark. 

Deep beneath Faerûn, there is something profoundly disturbing about the lack of…well, everything. They find no grand cities or quaint little villages, few animals and even fewer people. 

No trees, no light. No sky. 

Most nights spent underground are so quiet that Gale may as well stay in his bedroll, staring up at a canopy of fabric, dark as the velvet earth above them. 

He thinks, It is like being buried alive, without even the stars to bear witness. 

On these nights he can feel the stones in his head turning over.

Even so, come the evening (or what he guesses is evening), Gale volunteers to stand sentinel for the fifth time in a tenday. 

He always asks them after dinner, when his companions are most likely to agree, after his cooking has warmed them and filled their bellies and made them want nothing more than to close their eyes and dream of somewhere, anywhere else. 

Tav is the only one who protests with any frequency, the only one who seems to notice that the circles under his eyes are half a shade darker than they were yesterday, when they were half a shade darker than the day before. 

Even on nights when she convinces someone else to take his place, he will relieve them after Tav has gone to sleep. 

It starts the same way every time. 

Gale walks the perimeter in an infinite loop, looking for life in the darkness, illuminated only by the fire in the center of their camp. It makes him feel like a distant planet, nearly untouched by the sun. How strange to think that he’d once felt like the sun itself. 

He continues in his orbit until the subterranean cold gnaws at his limbs. It bites down hard on his nose and ears and fingers, chases him back to the fire, back to the light. 

Hypnotized by the flames and their radiant warmth, he does not hear the quiet stirring in the tent beyond his own, doesn’t hear the soft approach of nimble feet. 

A voice comes to him out of the darkness.

“I hope you’re not keeping watch again.” 

“Mystra,” Gale gasps, startled, the goddess’s name invoked in equal parts a prayer, a curse.

“Forgive me,” Tav says, through a laugh she cannot help. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” If it were anyone else he might be annoyed, or even a little embarrassed– but the sound of her laughter bubbles like seafoam over sand, rushes over and around him. Coupled with the relief that she is not some dreadful creature of the Underdark, he finds it difficult to feel anything besides affection. 

“It’s quite alright,” he recovers, with a shake of his head. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

“Then I really hope you’re not keeping watch.” 

She is teasing him now, just lightly, a familiar spark of warmth behind her eyes. 

It is the same look she gives him when she brings him a new book, or when he cooks for her, or when he tells her about Waterdeep. It is the same look she gave him earlier in the day, when she had offered to brew him a tea that might help him to sleep.

Gale has trouble remembering the last time another looked at him this way, so interested and inviting and earnest. 

Perhaps, he thinks, another never has. 

“Are you alright?” Tav asks, when he’s been quiet for too long.  

“Of course,” he says with the sincerity of a promise, offered with a smile that he hopes will be convincing. “Just lost in thought.” 

There is a part of him that doesn’t want to leave it there, that wants to share his every thought with her, his every terror, every dream. She must know that there is more to it, must’ve learned by now to recognize when Gale isn’t telling her everything, but he is grateful that she doesn’t press him, never presses him. 

Instead she breaks into a grin and says, “You’re lucky I’m not a bulette.” 

“I’m lucky they’re not so light-footed. What are you doing up, anyway?”

“The cold always wakes me, sooner or later,” Tav sighs. “If I’d known it was so godsdamned frigid down here, I might’ve nicked a fur or two from the Zhent.” 

It’s Gale’s turn to laugh, though she’s only half-joking. 

She’s drawn near to him, to the flames, her palms outstretched, her fingers spread wide as if to grab hold of as much warmth as possible. 

“But it’s alright,” she continues, “So as long as I’m close to the fire.” 

“Any closer and you’ll be in it, I’m afraid. Perhaps I can help.” 

Tav tilts her head and quirks an eyebrow in a curious little expression. “Can you?”

“If you’ll allow me.” 

Gale turns to face her fully, and she mirrors him out of instinct. 

“Hold out your hands to me,” he says. “Palms together, just barely. Like you’re praying.” 

“Like this?” “Like that.” 

The spell is one his mother taught him, among the first he’d ever learned. 

He still remembers that winter in Waterdeep, when the snow fell hard and fast. When the ice in the harbor kept the ships at arm’s length and the frozen streets shone like glass. He was young then, six or seven, but even now he can feel his small hands in Morena’s, warmed by a word and a touch. 

Warm and fed, she used to tell him. That’s how you show someone they’re loved. 

Gale cages Tav’s hands lightly in his own, the way he might hold a butterfly. He pushes all thoughts of winter away and calls to mind the rippling heat of summer, an orchard grown fat with peaches, the silvery shimmer of sweat on skin. 

The rose-petal flush of a cheek cradled in a hand, her cheek, his hand…

“Calor aestas,” he says quietly, when the image comes into clear view. He feels the cold melt from her fingers, hears the comfortable sigh that follows. “Better?”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Much.” 

She is looking at him now with an intensity he has not seen since the night he first showed her the Weave, all that time ago. The night he saw her thoughts laid bare, had all but felt her lips on his. 

Had she seen them now, the visions he had conjured? Had she felt him pull her close in his own mind?

Tav clears her throat softly and he comes back to himself, his heartbeat thrashing wildly in his chest. He realizes with some urgency that he has not let her go and pulls back suddenly, but not without reluctance. 

“I hope,” he swallows, trying to compose himself. “I hope it helps you sleep.” 

“Do you want me to stay up with you?”

Yes, he thinks selfishly, Yes. Stay up with me, stay close to me, always. 

He shakes his head instead. “You should rest while the spell holds.”

“And how long is that?”

“As long as I’m able to concentrate.” 

He will think of her hands and their pull on a bowstring, their pluck of a lyre, their grip on a sword. How they weave her own magic, how they cradle a book. How they felt clasped in his, soft and cold. 

A focus worth holding, at last. 

“Only if it’s no trouble,” she says. 

“None at all.” 

Gale is grateful that he manages to stop himself, for once, from saying the rest of the thought as it enters his head. I would think of you anyway, magic or no.  

Tav takes his hand in hers again, this time to squeeze it fondly.

For a moment, he feels that if he were to die just now– from the orb, from the tadpole, in the jaws of a hungry bulette– it would all have been worth it, for this. 

“Thank you, Gale.”

Her smile is warmer than any summer he remembers, brighter than any star he can name.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 4.3

Oof! Got him!

“She loves you and he loves him and they love each other”. You know when you've got something to say but you don't want it to look like you really wanted to say it specifically so you throw it in between two other things? No? Just me and John?

I'm obsessed with John just heaping praise on Paul in this interview. Every song the interviewer brings up it's “best” “my favorite” “all Paul” “good piece of work” “somewhere I have the tape of him doing it” “damn good” “one of his masterpieces” See also: Paul’s a good lyricist, he just doesn't try because he's insecure. And: one of the most innovative bass players of all time.

John mixing up In My Life and If I Fell “although I don't know why I'm confusing them, they're nothing alike but they have the same–” The same what? Same target? Same muse? Hmm? “It's really about–it's not about Cyn.” He's barely hanging on to not saying it here, like, by a gossamer thread. 

John confessing that the consistent character flaw of Paul's which hurt him ((hurt. Not annoyed. Not angered. Hurt.)) was insensitivity. Not bossiness or lameness or sneakiness. Insensitivity. What John couldn't handle in the end about Paul was that he wasn't aware enough of John's tender feelings. 

He's also so cruel in this interview. And what you've got to pay attention to is the theme connecting the songs he's cruel about: Let It Be (let John go) and The Long and Winding Road (the long and pointless fight). 

The Japanese Monk comparison doesn't quite land for me because it implies that John purposely broke up the Beatles because he knew they were at a peak and he wanted them to stay gold. And I think that's what John would like the story to be. It makes him feel better inside. It makes him look incredibly wise and courageous. But it's clear – John even stated it himself more than once on record – that the breakup was not purposeful or calculated. It was a terrible accident that nobody wanted, least of all John. 

More quotes to live by when examining John's post breakup “ow!”

I find it fascinating that John thought of Paul's and Dylan's lyrics as very similar and says so twice in this documentary. But nobody else ever draws that comparison. In mainstream thought, Bob Dylan is one of the greatest lyricists of all time if not the greatest (it's me. I'm mainstream. Subterranean Homesick Blues my absolute beloved.) and Paul is the worst lyricist to ever get successful. And you know what? I think Paul gets punished for being physically pretty and financially savvy, and I think in the exact same way his music gets punished for being melodically pretty and commercially successful. 

John about Paul's inscrutable messages in his songs: if one knows the person, one knows what's coming down. John in I Know (I Know): and I know. What's coming down. 

I will always love how he says in the same breath . . . “I've compared it to a marriage a million times" and "Paul and I were together.” 

You really do gotta be like “Johns say the darndest things sometimes.” I mean that's what Paul did, right? Because genuinely most of the time he's a fucking sweetheart. After he's sat there defending Paul's insane mourning bus movie, the interviewer asks him to compare himself and Paul. And after saying there's never been a question about commerciality, he says this. 

Nobody think about Paul writing “One of These Days” just before John's death then “This One” a decade later. Don't do it. I do recommend. 

Free as a Bird is such a beautiful song. It's a gorgeous melody, and it's got such complex emotions. He's still mourning something that was lost, but he's hopeful. He's on his way home. 

You all know that long distance interview Paul did right before John died where they bring up some of the awful things John said recently about him (ignoring the millions of loving and admiring things). When Paul's voice cracks and he looks up at the ceiling and struggles for a minute and the lights go out, I have a theory that it's one of their kids being protective. She was messing with the lights before to be silly and then when the bad question comes she turns them off again as a sort of protective sabotage. 

What If though? What If that's true? 

Quote of all time!!! “The person I actually picked as my partner, who I recognized has talent and who I could get on with, was Paul.” He doesn't say ‘as my sidekick’ or ‘running mate’ or ‘captain’s mate’ or ‘second string’ or any of those things that traditional Beatles fans tend to push on them. Partner. 

Serious question, because I swing all over the place as to what I think actually happened between John and Paul physically and emotionally. If we agree that Real Love is about Paul (a baby and another on the way lalalalalala farm . . . Just call him on the phone) Then what about this lyric? “Was I just dreaming (a word of theirs and something they thought they shared) or was it only Yesterday (Paul's biggest song) I used to hold you in my arms? Is that to be taken literally? John used to hold Paul in his arms? i.e. frequent hugging and cuddling?

The heart monitor cuts so harshly into John singing “Grow Old With Me.” As we see beautiful images of John and all the people he's leaving behind. I'm dry heaving. This documentary is so much more painful this time around than the first. 

Anyway I'm glad we got coverage of all the “for Paul” songs. Which. Btw fuck you Sean and Peter. You proved absolutely nothing.

[ofliterarynature]

TBR TAKEDOWN: Week 17 (September 22)

TLDR: I have too many unread books, and I’m asking tumblr to help me downsize. Pick one or none - it doesn't have to be something you've read, just the one you think sounds the worst! Comments and reblogs welcome, book descriptions below the cut. See my pinned post for more info.

Boneshaker by Cherie Priest

In the early days of the Civil War, rumors of gold in the frozen Klondike brought hordes of newcomers to the Pacific Northwest. Anxious to compete, Russian prospectors commissioned inventor Leviticus Blue to create a great machine that could mine through Alaska's ice. Thus was Dr. Blue's Incredible Bone-Shaking Drill Engine born.

But on its first test run the Boneshaker went terribly awry, destroying several blocks of downtown Seattle and unearthing a subterranean vein of blight gas that turned anyone who breathed it into the living dead.

Now it is sixteen years later, and a wall has been built to enclose the devastated and toxic city. Just beyond it lives Blue's widow, Briar Wilkes. Life is hard with a ruined reputation and a teenaged boy to support, but she and Ezekiel are managing. Until Ezekiel undertakes a secret crusade to rewrite history.

His quest will take him under the wall and into a city teeming with ravenous undead, air pirates, criminal overlords, and heavily armed refugees. And only Briar can bring him out alive.

A World Without Heroes by Brandon Mull

Jason Walker has often wished his life could be a bit less predictable--until a routine day at the zoo ends with Jason suddenly transporting from the hippo tank to a place unlike anything he's ever seen. In the past, the people of Lyrian welcomed visitors from the Beyond, but attitudes have changed since the wizard emperor Maldor rose to power. The brave resistors who opposed the emperor have been bought off or broken, leaving a realm where fear and suspicion prevail.

In his search for a way home, Jason meets Rachel, who was also mysteriously drawn to Lyrian from our world. With the help of a few scattered rebels, Jason and Rachel become entangled in a quest to piece together the word of power that can destroy the emperor, and learn that their best hope to find a way home will be to save this world without heroes.

Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse

A bold translation of Nobel Prize-winner Herman Hesse's most inspirational and beloved work, which was nominated as one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read

Hesse's famous and influential novel, Siddartha, is perhaps the most important and compelling moral allegory our troubled century has produced. Integrating Eastern and Western spiritual traditions with psychoanalysis and philosophy, this strangely simple tale, written with a deep and moving empathy for humanity, has touched the lives of millions since its original publication in 1922. Set in India, Siddhartha is the story of a young Brahmin's search for ultimate reality after meeting with the Buddha. His quest takes him from a life of decadence to asceticism, through the illusory joys of sensual love with a beautiful courtesan, and of wealth and fame, to the painful struggles with his son and the ultimate wisdom of renunciation.

[atenea14]

A rough day. Sanguinius x reader

The events here happen before the Nikaea council. English is not my first language so there might be mistakes.

Warnings: Sex pollen, Dom!Sanguinius x sub!reader. Slight breath play, power play, bondage. 

Summary: A mission goes wrong ,as a result, Sanguinius and you end up affected by sex pollen.

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

You’ve been with the blood angels for a while now and you feel lucky, they are one of the few legions that are amicable towards their human crew which permitted you to easily demonstrate your abilities as an incredible psychic. Thanks to your powers you got to meet the higher ups within the legion including their beloved primarch and formed a good coworking bond with all of them. As the good war buddy you were, you went with them in some of their battles. That’s how you ended up in your current situation.

- Y/N you are required in the front line. - Dante approached you in a blink. 

- I thought the battle was done?- You are really fed up with the orcs so more fighting doesn’t suit your mood. 

- It is but Lord Sanguinius requires your help to quickly investigate the subterranean tunnels the orcs have made. Let’s go.- You just silently followed him through the tunnels until you got where Sanguinius was. 

- I’m glad to see you well Y/N.- Sanguinius greeted you, always well mannered, always perfect. 

- The sentiment is mutual, my lord.- You smiled at him waiting for his instructions. He smiled back before speaking again.

- There are some locked compartments and brute force won’t open them, I have no idea what the orcs made but I want you to try and open those parts of the tunnel.-

- I’ll do my best.- 

With that you got to work and managed to open the passages. Sanguinius and his men moved fast to investigate it all, but they didn’t find anything interesting at least under a human view. Within no time you arrived at the most hidden corner where you could see a small box. After some failed analisis and a discussion you were asked to force it open. When you did it a gas cloud exploded in your face, Sanguinius quickly covered you and embraced you, acting as a human shield, getting himself fully exposed to the unknown material. 

- I swear I can not stand those xenos, are you alright Y/N?- Sanguinius asked but you were too dumbfounded to immediately answer, you don’t get angel wings protecting you every day. 

- Y/N?- Sanguinius tried again. 

- I feel fine… I think.- Sanguinius examined your face and looked at Dante. 

- There are some vials left in the box, grab them and get them analyzed immediately, also escort Y/N to the red tear and get her to the medicae.- He turned to look at you once more. 

- I want to profusely apologize Y/N, this is my fault for wanting to rush things and not following the protocols.- You gave him a strained smile and told him it was ok, it’s not like you have it in you to accuse him when he looks at you with so much concern. 

- Just remember you have been exposed to it too my lord, please take care.- With a nod he gently pushed you towards the squadron who would accompany you. 

It’s already been an hour and you are waiting in the medical bay for someone to explain to you what have you been exposed to. You felt good so you were observing your surroundings when you heard the door open, to your surprise it was Dante. It cheered you up to see a familiar face so you eagerly greeted him but a feeling of uneasiness quickly invaded you once you registered his somber face. 

- Is it that bad?- You impatiently observed him sit down next to your bed. He looked directly into your face and he started speaking with a really soft voice. 

- Lord Sanguinius and you have been exposed to what we… have vulgarly called sex pollen.- He paused to let the information sink in but you just looked at him with a really confused expression.

- I don’t understand, I… feel good, maybe it doesn’t affect me?- Dante hold your hand with his.

- Your metabolism is slower than ours so you may not notice the effects now but you will soon. I’ll say it bluntly Y/N, you will feel an extreme need to have intimate relationships and the longer you don’t submit to it the more undesired chemical imbalance you will have on your body, we are working on an antidote but it will come late. On the other hand lord Sanguinius is already under the influence. What I’m about to ask you is not something I’m happy about.- You interrupted him. 

- I… wait a moment.- You used a couple of minutes to think about all the events that have involved you this day.- But Dante… I do not wish to… and if I did wouldn't that be considered heresy?.- You started rambling and the blood angel interrupted you to try to calm you a little bit.

- Y/N, whatever happens next won’t be your fault nor will be considered heresy given the circumstances plus all the matter is being confidential and only de indispensable people are aware of the situation.- You just looked at each other for what seemed an eternity until you broke the silence. 

- What happens if I refuse?- Dante took a deep sigh before answering. 

- Sanguinius' well-being will be in danger. I can’t tell you exactly why but the undesired chemical reactions I told you about may trigger some deeper problems in him. It won’t be your situation so at least you don’t need to worry about that.- Dante dropped all formalities and while that used to comfort you today it brought the opposite effect.

- Would it be that bad?- You put extra emphasis on the word that. Dante seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. 

- Look, no one here wants to force you to do anything, let alone Sanguinius. So I want to reiterate that anything will be your fault. But yes, it would be that bad.- He also put extra emphasis on the word.

- How is Sanguinius now?.-

- He is struggling to maintain control so being near him is not safe. That’s why I want you to have in mind before you answer that he may end up losing control and he surely will be rude.- You only had one question left before you answered. 

- What will happen to me if I try to fight the effects of the poison?.- 

- Since it’s a recently discovered substance I cannot give you any answer to that.- 

- I understand, I will do it.- Dante looked genuinely surprised.

- Are you sure?- You faintly smiled at him. 

- I’m already down the rabbit hole aren’t I? Plus Sanguinius is way more important than me so it only seems to be one correct answer.- Dante stared at you intensely. 

- Attach this to your wrist, the button is an alarm, if the situation goes south press it and I will interfere.- 

Dante gave you a reassuring squeeze to your hand and helped you get out of bed. In a moment you were left alone in front of Sanguinius' personal quarters. 

- My lord? Is Y/N, I am entering.- The room was dimly lit and Sanguinius looked upset. 

- You shouldn't be here, who brought you?.- You ignored his questions. 

- I have been explained the situation so I’ve come here voluntarily, my lord.- He looked troubled. 

- NO, Y/N. You have to leave. I don't have much restraint now.- He wasn’t looking in your direction. 

- I won’t, I’ve been told your health is at risk.-

- And what about yours? I could kill you.-

- You are more important than me plus sooner or later I will be feeling like you are right now.- 

- Y/N I…- You approached him and touched his arm. 

- It will be ok Sanguinius, I know you wouldn’t harm me.- 

Unknowingly you provoked him an electrical and addictive feeling with your touch making him lose all restrain left in him. Suddenly he picked you up and threw you into his bed making you gasp and igniting a spark in your body, all your nerves were on fire and your rational mind became foggy. You just wanted him, and he just wanted you. 

He kissed you while his hands roamed all over your body until they grabbed your hips. You returned the kiss with equal fervor and hung your legs around his body trying to have as much contact as you could. He went to kiss your neck and sunk his teeth a little bit, enough to get a couple of blood drops out of you but your pained hiss seemed to bring some focus to him. He paused for a moment and softly caressed all the parts of your body he could and started undressing you.

- Is not fair I’m the only one naked my lord.- 

- Then undress me.- 

You found yourselves fully naked and you climbed onto his lap kissing him fervently, he pulled your hair and it made you moan. You started moving your hips against him almost unconsciously and tried to push his chest so he was fully laid back on the bed. Instead he grabbed your waist and made you both roll, making you gasp. He pinned your wrist above your head with one of his hands while the other grabbed your face. 

-You are not the one in charge here darling.- 

He intensely looked into your eyes and the hand that was at your face went directly to your center, rubbing it in circles making close your eyes because of the sudden pleasure. 

- Look at me Y/N. Look me and tell me who do you belong to.- Between heavy breaths you answered.

- I belong to you.- He pinched your clitoris. 

- That’s not the proper answer Y/N.- You felt suffocated, you barely couldn’t move since your arms were held with one of his hands and the rest of your body was trapped under him. He entered one of his fingers in you, then another one making it really difficult for you to articulate any words. Sanguinius let go of your hands and grabbed your neck slightly restricting your air flow, you were in pure pleasure, your body was more sensitive than normal because of the pollen and Sanguinius was making you go crazy.

- I’ve asked you something.- He squeezed your neck a little bit more before releasing all the pressure allowing you to fully breath. 

- You, my lord. I belong to Lord Sanguinius.- 

- That's my girl.- With that he retired his hand off your clit and before you could whine he slowly started pushing his member into you making you see stars. You were sure your moans could be heard in the nearby hallways but you didn’t care at the moment and Sanguinus was enjoying them. 

- My lord it’s too much, I can’t.- You were overstimulated and Sanguinius was big, you didn’t think it would fit in. 

- Bear with it, it’ll bring you pleasure. I’m almost fully in.- You whimpered, the stretch was almost painful. He fully stopped once he was completely buried inside you, giving you a moment to adapt and he took that moment to caress you and squeeze your tits and pinch at your nipples making you lose focus on the stretch and allowing you to relax. 

- That’s it beautiful.- He started rocking his hips throwing you into a pleasure spiral, you were getting close and he noticed it. You embraced him while he started to fuck you faster, you were a moaning mess and when your started to clench at his member he roughly kissed you suffocating your moans while you were cumming. You were dumbfounded and were barely able to focus on anything else than your pleasure. He started touching your nub again overstimulating you while not relenting his pace. He was enjoying all your whines and whimpers and complaints about not being able to stand it but he was unforgiving. All your body was on fire and you started feeling a pleasure like never before. He bit you on your neck enjoying the ecstasis your blood gave him, the pain was enough to send you over the edge again and you squirted all over him while he came inside you. He slowed down his thrusts until you both came down from your highs and he slowly pulled out of you making you whimper. You looked at each other breathing heavily but none of you knew what to say. 

- Are you alright?- Sanguinius was the one who broke the silence. 

- Yes my lord.- He looked at you with an expression you didn’t know to decipher. 

- From now on just call me Sanguinius.- He spoke to you with a really soft voice. You nodded and he moved from above you getting out of the bed. 

- We should get ourselves cleaned, you can use my bathroom while I go talk with Dante.- He reached to touch you but stopped himself in the air, turned around grabbed his clothes and got out of the room.

You were left alone in his bedchambers a little bit confused. You wanted to bathe but everything in there was huge compared to you. Slowly, you moved to the edge of the bed and realized that all your body was sore. Once you made it to the bathroom you confirmed your thoughts, almost everything was out of your reach. The noise of a door opening startled you and you quickly turned around to see who entered. 

- It’s me Y/N.- 

- Sanguinius…- A rush of self awareness invaded you since you were still naked.

- Y/N… I’m sorry I…- Sanguinius was looking at your body and you knew he felt sorry for all the bruises he had caused.

- It’s okay, I just feel a little bit sore but that’s all.- He studied you for a couple of seconds. 

- Don’t you want to bathe? Do you wish to leave?- 

- I do want to bathe but everything here is out of my reach so I should leave to the common showers.- Sanguinius seemed troubled. 

- Or… I could help you if you wish.- 

- Sanguinius what happened today is none of our fault so you don’t need to compensate me.- 

- I am not, I just want to take care of you.- If he wasn’t a primarch you would have thought that he was looking at you with love, but it was Sanguinius after all and he is always compassionate so you just pushed your thoughts away and shyly nodded at him. Without thinking too much about it you stepped closer to him and to your surprise he picked you up and embraced you. You just stayed like that for a couple of minutes until he softly left you in the bath. The rest of the shower was spent in silence while you both tended to each other. Once you were done, Sanguinius helped you dry your hair. You stepped out of the bath before Sanguinius and realized that not only had the bed sheets been changed but also were clean clothes for you to use. A shame feeling invaded you making you feel really self conscious making you freeze in the middle of the room until warm arms embraced you. 

- Please do not feel bad, just one of my sons entered here and he already knew of the situation. No one will judge us.- Sanguinius' touch had a calming effect and his words comforted you. You timidly smiled at him and put your clothes on. The situation was kind of awkward so once you were done you just headed for the door. 

- Where are you going?- You froze in your tracks and turned back to look at him. 

- I… to my bed?- 

- Do you wish to be alone?- You didn’t comprehend why he was asking you that. 

- It’s not like I can stay here Sanguinius.- It was his turn to not understand you.

- Why not?- 

- It wouldn’t be proper.- Sanguinius faintly smiled.

- I think we are already past that point.- 

- But it wouldn’t be the same as before. We are not under the pollen influence anymore.- Sanguinius thought about it for a moment. 

- If you want to leave I won’t stop you but if you want to stay it will be okay too. Forget about everything. You owe it to yourself to do what you are comfortable with right now.- 

- I don’t want to be alone.- Sanguinius looked softly at you and smiled. He extended his hand and you walked to him, he picked you up and placed you on his bed. He lied beside you. With his words resonating in your head you found the courage to attach your body to his and hug him. He embraced you with his arms and kissed your head. Your breath slowed down and you fell asleep within minutes. The whole situation was confusing but you knew you’d be alright. 

On the other hand Sanguinius was worried, he was already infatuated with you but now there might be no coming back. You were his and his alone. With everything he had to do for the imperium he knew he owed it to himself to keep you under his wings.

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

Astarion x Tav

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

request: for @aristenfromwarsaw

Fangtastic days of our lives

➹summary: a comforting day/evening in the life of Astarion and his love Aristen after post-game settling down, takes an unexpected turn as Astarion while enjoying his new found life and love, sees something of interest…

➹pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Aristen by @aristenfromwarsaw)

➹content/tags: fluff, comfort, romance, smuty flirting, fun, slice of life, little tiny bit of angst and guilt

➹word count: 5,036

➹cameos: @evander-jane Devana Lysander @alpydk Ragnar @goromimii @pinkberrytea (by order)

➹a/n: another belated birthday present for @aristenfromwarsaw  Thank you very much for all the great photoshoots you always did for me, just like that. Such things really fill my heart with joy. I hope you like it. Thank you for trusting me with your Tav Aristen. I take writing other OCs really serious, because an OC is very personal thing and it is way harder to get them in character. I used the infos/backstory you gave me once about Aristen for the best I could.

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

Fangtastic days of our lives

Teak, mahogany, oakwood, dried tobacco with the hidden essence of vanilla. From somewhere the sweetness of honey and roasted nutmeg.

These were impressions of antique wood, boiling kettles, clanging beer mugs and laughing voices that filled the Elfsong tavern.

It was like a honey-colored, subterranean, starless sea.

A sea of ​​people, scents, voices and music.

A sea of ​​life that would envelop the coming evening when the sun would have completely disappeared, making way for the aurora again after the starry night.

Astarion was acutely aware of his surroundings. Perception meant survival.

But not today…not anymore.

He could simply explore and enjoy his surroundings while he waited for his beloved:

Aristen the storm sorceress and former daughter of Bhaal. She was able to walk in the sun and as a vampire spawn he had to wait until the sun had made the rays that were fatal to him disappear.

That didn't matter to Astarion. He was used to the night.

But he never wanted to go back to that cold, lonely life.

The Sorceress, along with the other companions, had freed him from slavery once and for all. But it was she alone who had given him back the vision of his eyes, of his entire senses. Astarion could sit in the tavern and just be, taking in the surroundings of life.

No more looking for victims. No more fear. Never again.

The Elfsong Tavern was full of life and he was part of it.

So after hundreds of years, Astarion could finally taste life again. See it. Hearing it with his pointy ears and feeling and smelling it warmly with the scent of pumpkin, butterscotch and spicy beer.

A quite pretty bard with white freckly tattoos on her face and braided crimson hair beneath her Tiefling horns played the lyre on the Elfsong stage. Astarion noticed dagger-shaped earrings on her pointed ears. The Avernus fire of her origins blazed in her blue eyes as she sang:

“Empty kisses, shallow words,

Fiery passion only hurts

When the sorrow takes an oblivion hint

Will you cure and begone with the wind…”

Astarion continued to look around while the sadly whispering voice reached his elf ears.

“I hope someone sings a song like that for me too. Such expressions of love really manage to make me weak,” sighed a tall black-haired woman, whose face bore at least as many tales of adventure as freckles.

"Me too. But I really hope that the ballad has a happy ending,” replied a long-haired beauty at her table. The human woman's wavy, light hair framed a gentle face with captivating blue eyes.

“Oh you heard that? Oh no! ", the adventuress, ashamed, put her hands on her head with her side-braided hair and covered cringing with embarrassment one of the green eyes. "I should stop talking loudly to myself."

The other woman laughed a little and her wavy hair swayed on the shoulders of the long, light dress with floral embroidery: “It’s all good. I won’t tell anyone else.”

She winked briefly.

“But tell me…” she took her hands away from her face with the little different eyes, “…you’re not from Baldur’s Gate either, right? You also speak with a different accent than me.”

"Correct. I come from the East..."

“What did she say? Sêlune guide me?”

Astarion was distracted by an almost desperate voice that sounded at least as concentrated and angry as it was beer-soaked.

He saw a barbarian sitting at the next table, holding his beer mug almost too tightly.

The raised dark blonde hair did not distract from the piercings and black war paint, which Lae'zel would certainly have approved of.

“Okay, can I memorize this Sêlune prayer or not?” he muttered to himself and downed the beer in one gulp.

Astarion had seen him before and that evening he had stared at Shadowheart the whole time. Was the barbarian building up – or drinking up - the courage to speak to Shadowheart next time?

The vampire was distracted from the barbarian when a pale woman walked past his table accompanied by a brown-haired man. He noticed them because they both had scars on their faces. But no, that wasn't it at all. Something else drew his attention to them...they smelled somehow, almost reeked of...swamp? No magic.

That same hidden scent of feymagic that came from the black haired adventuress with the freckles.

The woman's pale face was friendly, almost cheerful. She enjoyed the music and the sad ballad. Did she know the feelings and sad love that the Tiefling woman sang about?

Astarion was all the more struck by the face of the dark-clothed man with the scarred hands who accompanied her: he was rigid and joyless and his eyes had an almost malicious shimmer. He didn't seem to suit her. He walked rigidly like an aristocrat or a trained soldier, or was he rigid because of the blade - that was clearly visible to the Rogue - that he wore under his clothes?

The man's gaze fell on the bard's dagger earrings. But not only the brown-haired human looked at the earrings, but also a white-skinned, tall elf who walked behind him. Astarion didn't know what was more noticeable: his large deadly sword, the long white hair, the black tattoos on his face, or...or the earrings in the shape of a dagger that hung from his ears.

He nodded almost imperceptibly to the bard and she returned his nod briefly.

Frowning, Astarion averted his gaze and looked around the taproom.

Many of the guests listened attentively to the ballad. Couples in love held each other tightly and some wiped a tear from their face.

“…in the dark of the night I see your tears

Rubies glisten full of pain

Rage and misery

Don’t get lost in brandy, bergamot and rosemary”

The ballad finished gently and the bard stood up.

"Thanks! And now for the bard duet!”

With a wave of her hand, she invited her partner onto the stage.

Wild white hair adorned the scarred drow face. It looked like survival for Astarion.

She could be young and old at the same time, that's how it was always with the elves. Young pretty faces and centuries behind them. Sorrow, suffering, joy. Everything was possible.

The narrow waist with the subsequent curved hips and thighs with short pants was adorned with a weapon belt with a sword and a flute.

The skilled hand whirled out a shiny silver flute and the duo began to play:

„Two bards do the trick, because bards do it better

Drow or Tiefling, it doesn’t matter

Shiny white hair, or wagging tail

Their persuasion will never fail“

They quickly changed the melancholic mood and the silver flute had a captivating sound, as if it were a homage to a goddess.

“One plays the flute, the other smashes lutes

Buy us a drink and we’ll tell you who is who“

A Tiefling whose rosé colored hair matched her white pink frilly clothing cheered enthusiastically to the tavern song.

Astarion heard her applaud with a giggling laugh. Cute little laughs with a sweet smile upon her light face.

It was that kind of sweet laugh that told the vampire how innocent, unspoiled, kind and naive the person was.

Yes, the delicate Tiefling woman was a sweet, innocent thing, Astarion could tell that with just a sideways glance of his red eyes. The sweet and naive kind of girl that immediately fell for him. Who he easily ensnared and seduced for Cazador. Or was she one of the people he would have avoided because they were so naive...innocent, undeserving of it? He would probably have avoided her if possible because such a sweet, lovely person didn't deserve to fall victim to the vampires.

Astarion closed his eyes briefly and grimaced at the emerging memories that he immediately wanted to repress.

Thanks to his beloved Aristen, he no longer had to do this.

He was free.

Cazador dead.

All of Baldur's Gate saved, saved from the Empire of the Netherbrain and the Mind Flayers.

Yes, thanks to the blonde adventuress whose fate was forever intertwined with his and all her other companions, he had escaped his fate as a slave. Their courage and their determination, with the help of the other fighters, allowed him to defeat Cazador.

But not only that, the storm sorceress had also given him love and patience. And the confidence to be better than Cazador. He didn't need blood-soaked, soul-eating power to be safe, to be worth anything.

Astarion would never have to hurt innocent people against his will again.

All thanks to her.

And yet Aristen did not consider herself to be good, nor to be lovable.

She loathed herself for her actions as a born Bhaalspawn, which she only dimly remembered. No one could hate her more than she hates herself.

And perhaps it was even worse for her, imagining every day what atrocities she had committed in the name of the God of Murder instead of knowing for sure.

She didn't see herself as a lovable hero, a savior. Astarion wished so much that she could see herself through his eyes just once. Then she would finally forgive herself.

The problem was that the sarcastic vampire had never said that to her and perhaps never would. There would always be something gnawing inside him, at his battered heart, that would prevent him from casually revealing his innermost, deepest feelings. What if he did lose her to someone else one day?  If it would not be an arrow or observer to steal her from him? How could he then pretend that his vain heart had not been destroyed for all eternity?

Darkness crossed Astarion's face at all the thoughts and he shook his head with his white curls to drive them away.

Once again he let his gaze wander over the audience, while his pointy elven ears only casually listened to the singing of the bards. It was only thanks to his beloved Aristen that he was able to recognize the diversity of the guests gathered. To be recognized again.

It had once been a faceless mass. At some point, after all the years of slavery under Cazador, the people in the taverns had become nothing more than a uniform mush to him. Victims, cattle like sheep, to his master. Criminals who hurt him and whom he hurt in return and they became victims of the vampire lord.

Dark, blank faces.

Without eyes, without soul. Just like Astarion himself had felt.

But after Aristen came into his life - with the craziest tentacle adventure of his life - everything had gradually changed.

First he recognized her blue eyes, then her face. The smile of her lips plagued by guilt and bloody ghosts of the past. The same smile as his own.

Then he saw all the faces, the people, their stories and lives again.

He saw the colors. The differences and the similarities. He heard the voices, the laughter, the music. He noticed the scents and smells again. Astarion saw joy and life again.

A scent that stood out from the rest of the tavern's smells suddenly tickled Astarion's nose.

Orchid drifted discreetly from the front door.

A slightly tickling shiver ran over the tips of his elf ears, while Astarion was already peering towards the door with large, round eyes.

Like the true epiphany she was, a blonde woman made her way through the elven song. Her appearance truly stood out from the rest of the tavern's audience:

Her delicately pinned hair and a ladylike, sweeping blue dress made her truly look like a lady of name and rank.

Astarion smiled as he looked at Aristen's appearance.

She always made an effort to look chic and beautiful, no matter what the circumstances. Like a true lady who belonged in a ballroom and not a tavern.

A ballroom, not a bhaalroom.

But Aristen loved all facets of life and also sat in the meadow under a tree in the forest with her fancy dress on.

If Astarion had his way, then very soon she would be pressed into the grass beneath him with the dress rumpled.

He chuckled dirtyly to himself as he couldn't help but think of that thought. And before he even thought about the first visit to his grave together, he shook his head and pushed it all away from his white curls.

"Darling..." Astarion stood up after Aristen made her way to him, having spotted him with a smile beaming with joy, "...you give me all sorts of ideas as always."

“What do you mean?” the high elf asked in surprise and blinked in confusion because she couldn’t follow him.

“Nevermind little love,” Astarion grinned mischievously and briefly kissed her delicate hand in greeting. He gently stroked Aristen's hand again as he slowly lowered it.

“The sun has already set enough for you to go out, Astarion,” his lover informed him. She would pick him up when it was safe for him outside.

"I've already run errands from a few merchants," Aristen spoke as the two left the tavern.

"Nice. Then we can now buy the rest together. Have you got everything so far?” asked Astarion.

The blonde nodded as they stepped outside.

Astarion sucked the air outside the elfsong into his lungs. Had breathing changed since he became a vampire? After all, he was undead.

Astarion didn't know. He couldn't remember, it had been too long.

In addition, the past no longer counted - smiling, he glanced furtively at Aristen who was carrying the basket with the purchases - only the present and the future counted.

“Yes, I did the grocery shopping that wasn’t of interest to you,” the blonde laughed and winked knowingly. “There was wonderful blossom honey, I couldn't resist,” enthused the sorceress, rolling her eyes heavenly at the thought of it and licking her lips in anticipation of the taste of the honey.

“Then I can taste it from your lips and tongue,” Astarion whispered seductively.

"What?"

“Oh, nothing…” the pale elf just grinned again.

His pointed ears were suddenly tickled by the brush of her lips as she leaned in very close to him.

“I heard you very well, my dear,” she whispered to him, her blue eyes sparkling meaningfully at him after she leaned back and gave him a knowing smile.

The vampire laughed. It was a serious laugh. It went from its sonorous, seductive, dirty murmur to a deep rumble before dying out in a high-pitched spike.

“I saw such a beautiful pair of earrings in the window at the Glitter Gala,” sighed Aristen languidly after she continued the story.

“So why didn’t you buy it, darling?”

Aristen shook her head: “Because it’s not necessary. I prefer to save our money for important things. After all, magical artifacts are expensive and the most important thing is that we find something that makes you immune to the sun.”

Yes, that was the ambition and current mission of Aristen and Astarion: to find a way for the vampire spawn to walk in the sun again.

Their friends also kept their ears and eyes open.

Gale read every book that might contain useful information.

Shadowheart, as well as Lae'zel on her travels through the astral planes, always sent them messages when they heard about mysterious artifacts.

And Halsin and Jaheira also reached out to all their acquaintances from near and far.

"If you hadn't used so much of our gold to rebuild the city and help its people, then you could afford any jewelry you wanted," Astarion nudged her with his shoulder and winked knowingly. The slightly accusatory tone was just an act.

“You know I wanted to try to somehow make amends for my actions when I was under Bhaal's control. This will never work, I know that. I can't bring back the people I killed. But I can at least try to help those left behind. It's too little. It’s no consolation…but at least it’s something.”

There was sadness in the blonde's voice. The look in her blue eyes was sincere before they slid slightly to the ground.

Astarion didn't like that, so he decided to cover up the whole thing: "I don't know what you're doing with this penance and compensation anyway."

He casually folded his arms behind his head and sounded as indifferent as he could.

“But…” he grinned playfully at the blonde Sorceress, “we could visit The Counting House again with Minsc. Then we have enough money to play benefactors and buy jewelry and beautiful clothes.”

Aristen raised an eyebrow with an amused grin: "You want to volunteer to do something with Minsc, really?"

“Now that you mention it…argh…better not. You may find him amusing, but he's always bursting in to chatter about his hamster at the most inopportune times. The guard almost caught me picking the lock of the Tabernacle when he suddenly stood loudly behind me, screaming my name and his hug almost broke every bone in my body.”

“What did you want at the Stormshore Tabernacle outside of opening hours?” Aristen asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing!” Astarion quickly dismissed the topic. Too fast.

“What’s next on the list for today?”

“We really have to go to the Devil's Fee. It has finally opened since the devastating battle against the Netherbrain and the reprocessing. If there are special artifacts or information about them anywhere, it’s there!”

Astarion nodded eagerly and the two elves walked quickly through the streets of Baldur's Gate.

"Oh no! No no no!” Helsik shouted from afar as her eyes saw Aristen.

The Sorceress blinked in confusion at the violent reaction and she looked around to see if anyone else was behind her, as the shopkeeper thought she might be.

“Not you!”

"I? But…"

“Nothing but!” Helsik cut her off. “After last time, I already told you that it was too hot to be seen with you and that the store was off limits for now. After the fuss you caused with your little friend and the black-haired fuzzy head.”

Astarion grinned briefly. He knew exactly who the saleswoman was talking about. After all, they had learned of Bhaal's daughter's past and how she had been involved in the Grand Design.

“I have new business partners, so I don’t need loud attention, after all, hell operates quietly.”

“We don’t want to cause any problems, I swear!”

The vampire let his eyes wander over the lavish and devilishly mysterious display while Aristen soothed Helsik.

“We just want to buy an artifact or information. Nothing improper, nothing complicated, nothing dangerous. Just good old Mammon.”

“Child, you will never have as much gold as I want from you so that I can burn my fingers again because of you.”

"Are you sure? I'll pay any price...whether it's gold or otherwise. We're just looking for a way to break the vampire curse of being vulnerable to the sun. Please."

Helsik laughed briefly, compassionately, not maliciously: “Deary, at the Devil’s Fee we don’t break curses, it’s more about the other way. That should be clear to you from the name.”

“My Love…” Astarion slowly tore his eyes away from the display cases and stood next to Aristen again, “…let me talk to her. I think I can convince them better with less…emotional involvement based on old stories.”

“Are you sure?” Aristen asked, unconvinced.

“Of course, baby…” he was already pushed the Sorceress toward the exit, “…you go do the other errands in the meantime and leave this to me.”

Aristen left the devilish business and made her way to the large square of the lower city wall. She visited the arms dealers and her thoughts continued to dwell on the fact that if even devils couldn't find a way to free Astarion from his curse, who would?

She would never give up hope. Anyway, Helsik was probably right: if it was about help, then hell wouldn't be a good negotiating partner.

Maybe they should trust in nature, magic and clerics. The gods may not have heard Astarion then, but perhaps they could now request divine intervention?

The vampire could walk in the light of the Moon Maiden, perhaps Dame Aylin and Shadowheart could ask even more of Sêlune. Maybe she could expand her moonlight.

Perhaps…

“STOP IMMEDIATELY!”

Aristen was snapped out of her thoughts and the blacksmith who was stationed across from Sorcerous Sundries just handed her back Astarion's freshly sharpened dagger.

“COME BACK IMMEDIATELY!”

From the direction of the Devil's fee came rumbling, loud voices and, above all, lightning and sparks.

“Stop the criminal scum!” shouted a city guard. “Subject, let him stand still!”

“Where for?”

“That way!”

“Or rather there?”

“I thought I saw something in that direction…”

“Then I here, you there,” the steel armored guards rumbled.

The clatter of steel armor slowly faded from the blonde Sorceress's ears, but a perfume that differed from her own scent of orchid and rose reached her nose.

Aristen smelled cherries, musk, palmarosa, black pepper and…

“Does this belong to you, little mouse?”

…sulfur.

Raphael's slightly tanned complexion stood before her. His brown hair was done to perfection with meticulous work, as were his clothes. Large, sparkling brown eyes regarded her, both sublime and mischievous.

The devil in human disguise had the white-haired vampire in tow, holding him by the collar like a naughty schoolboy.

"Raphael..."

“So you still know my name. Ah…very good. Tell the wizard of yours that too. Hopefully he’s still looking for my crown?”

Aristen nodded: “We defeat the brain. The crown will then be at your disposal. That’s how it was settled.”

“Excuse me…” the vampire groused

The devil released Astarion, who grumbled and moved his shoulders.

“Stealing from a shop that has connections straight to hell, very very naughty.”

As was his style, Raphael moved his hands theatrically while his voice whispered mellifluously. The reprimand was more than just played as amusing.

“Anyway, you were there in vain. There is nothing to buy there that could solve the vampire's little “problem”. Otherwise they would all be walking around here freely in the sunlight. Or not?”

The devil made a sweeping gesture and looked around ostentatiously before laughing.

“I'll talk to Helsik and smooth things over, after all you don't sleep well in unmade beds like in clover. But tell your magician that it is my crown. When he finds it, he has agreed to hand it over to me immediately. Not to Mystra and he certainly shouldn’t get the foolish idea of ​​using it himself.”

“He is not my magician,” Aristen clarified briefly, “Gale belongs to no one but himself. Mystra also has nothing to command him.”

“Does he see it that way too? Or does he like to be walked on a leash? He always just does what others tell him. After all, his own decisions are the stupidest I've ever seen...and I've literally seen it all."

“You mean as stupid as wanting to rule the crown of Karsus?”

“Haha…careful, little mouse,” laughed Raphael. “Just make sure I get the crown as quickly as possible.”

“When Gale finds it, you get the crown. That was the deal. We stick to that. But you'll have to be patient. It wasn't intended that the crown and the stones would be lost again, but it was hard to prevent it when the Netherbrain fell into the sea during the fight."

“I'm surprised you're so relaxed about this. You can't put me on a leash as easily as you can put the vampire spawn on a leash. Or was it rather the other way around and you Astarion put the former Bhaalspawn on a docile short leash?”

Mischief sparkled in the brown eyes of the human-shaped Cambion. There was a subtle, biting, malicious provocation in his words, which he spoke with a sonorous purr, as always.

Astarion's face contorted a little and the vampire barely suppressed a roll of his ruby-colored eyes. For a moment he seemed like a disgruntled cat.

"I think I liked you better when you just rhymed all the time," Astarion replied sassy.

Raphael laughed briefly, unimpressed: “Whatever. Less dawdling and making long fingers, but more diving for the crown,” reprimanded the devil with a raised eyebrow.

The devil wrinkled his nose slightly at the vampire spawn before turning back to Aristen and giving her his full attention.

“By the way, greetings from your fiery friend Karlach and her rapier-wielding colleague Wyll Ravengard.”

“Why are you ordering greetings from Karlach and Wyll? Have you met them?”

“Well, those two made themselves quite a name all around Avernus,” Raphael smiled in his smug way, “furthermore, I greatly welcome their actions against Zariel’s forces.”

He made one of his swinging hand movements with his manicured fingers: “I would like to invite you all to my House of Hope to linger, relax and chat. So you can catch up. You know, the Crown of Karsus is the key that grants you access. And until that happens…fare thee well, little mouse. I hope I will see you soon, knocking on the door of my house.”

As was his style, Raphael bowed expansively and his scent of leather, cedar, lily, rose, oud, vanilla and sandalwood disappeared into a swirl of sparks and sulphur.

“He hasn’t forgotten his flair for great performances. I don't know whether I should admire it or whether he's starting to get on my nerves with it," Astarion sighed briefly before straightening his shoulders and straightening his doublet with a quick tug.

"Anyways..." the vampire turned to another topic, "...I think it would be a good idea if we get out of the immediate area while the city guards are wandering around here."

The elf touched Aristen's elbow to encourage her to leave.

“What did you want to take from the store anyway, in the first place?” Aristen wanted to know from Astarion, curious and skeptical.

“Well…” he started to press and scratched the back of his white curls, “…I saw something…”

"And what was so terribly interesting that you would risk to be arrested by the Flaming Fist?"

“Well...it reminded me of you...and...I thought you should have it. But Helsik is really a cutthroat bitch with exorbitant prices.”

Aristen smiled good-naturedly: “Oh Astarion…”

“However…here…”

The vampire held out a white silk scarf to the storm sorceress.

Aristen's eyes widened. You could see from the shimmer and the way the fabric fell that it wasn't just silk that was woven there. It was definitely the weave itself and more that was at work there. Depending on how it fell and how you moved it, a golden blue shimmered.

“The scarf reminded me of the one you told me about. You know, the scarf with your name on it that you were found wearing as a baby in the Bhaal Temple. It’s one of the few memories you have left.”

The vampire took out a borealis blue thread from his pocket and began to embroider “Aristen” into the scarf.

“I wanted you to have something that you could never lose, that could never be destroyed, that had your name on it. Because if something ever happened again that made you forget...that made you forget yourself, at least you would always have your name with you. Then you know that you are Aristen. Not the daughter of the murder god. Not the chosen one of Bhaal. No Bhaalspawn. Just you. You are Aristen.”

The vampire began to embroider an “&” sign into the scarf.

“And well…” Astarion began to shuffle uncomfortably again and focused entirely on his work so that he didn’t have to look his lover in the eyes, “…if you ever forget something again, then you’ll know that we belong together. I don't want you to ever forget me. And so you also always carry my name with you.”

The vampire finished his work and the white scarf now embroidered with new memories read: "Aristen & Astarion"

“There is nothing in the world that would ever make me forget you, Astarion,” the high elf spoke softly.

She closed the distance between the two of them and kissed Astarion. The elf slowly closed his eyes as their lips met. His cool, hers warm. He felt her breathing life into him as they kissed.

"Thank you so much," the blonde said after they pulled away from each other, "you can't imagine how much this means to me. I love you, Astarion."

Aristen held the silky, white and blue scarf in her hands, stroked the pale elf's blue embroidery and smiled. "I think this used to be the color of your eyes too."

She smiled softly, as soft as the silky fabric of the scarf felt on her soft hands. Hands too soft for the crimes they had probably committed earlier in the name of Bhaal. In a previous life.

Aristen raised her eyes, which were also blue, and caught Astarion by surprise. Speechless.

That rarely happened.

Very rarely did the vampire find himself without words.

“Ah, I…” he took a breath to say something, but he lacked a suitable response, so he could only hold his breath, taken aback.

The gentle look in his lover's eyes and her words had triggered something in Astarion that he still couldn't handle: affection, sincere love.

Towards him and in his own heart.

The white-haired vampire exhaled and smiled just as gently at his beloved Aristen.

He reached out his cool hand to her and placed it against her rosy cheek. The blonde nestled herself a little in the vampire's hand and her gaze lingered lovingly in Astarion's now ruby-colored eyes.

“You never stop surprising me,” his whispering voice sounded sincere and just as genuine was the smile he continued to give her.

It was a smile that acknowledged how happy he was, partly surprised, partly just realizing that he wasn't really surprised anymore. And perhaps that was what surprised Astarion the most.

It was a day like any other.

A day like any other.

One day in the rest of their life.

Their life together.

And it was beautiful.

And he would never want it any other way.

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

➹a/n: i just gave my own Tav Saulus a little cameo guest appearance  😉 in the style of AU I also inserted aristenfromwarsaws other OC Devana, like a little, what are all the other tavs doing when not being the main character

the great Tavs of my lovely mutuals also did a tiny cameo:

Nala Hartwick of @evander-jane

Thomas Rosewood and Nana of @alpydk

Lovely Vierith of @goromimii jamming with my Saulus, best bardic duo

Mavka of @pinkberrytea

I hope I did the slice of life good justice and you all could taste, feel, smell, hear the life through all the description of scents, etc.

[cringefailvox]

Everyone talks about how Val and Vox so sweet things for each other, what do they do for their girlfriend Vel?

POLY VEES MY BELOVED <3

firstly, i think vox is definitely a gift-giver. he's sending her money, surprising her with commissioned outfits and brand new tech, everything straight off the production line goes straight to her & val. vox may be a little distant and penned up in his subterranean gamer cavern all the time working, but the other vees know he's got their backs. he's always keeping an eye out. vel calls him whenever she needs help and he drops everything to answer. he's someone she can confide in, someone who supports her and values her unconditionally, and he'll both protect her when necessary and stand back with popcorn to watch her protect herself.

val, on the other hand, is touchy-feely to the max. my guy has no concept of personal space, but vel loves the attention. they're cuddling after a long day, bickering over breakfast, giving each other fashion tips and snickering behind vox's back together. ultimate conspirators. val is her #1 hype man, he doesn't have a single bad thing to say about her (bc she'd flay him alive) and he loooves showering her with effusive compliments until her flippant facade cracks and she finally blushes or gets flustered. very few people get to see her like that and it pleases him every time.

[misfiterators]

made it to pebbles!

orange gang got my ass so many times 🥲👍

great news regarding my game progress:

I got so fed up being stuck in shaded at the start of gourmand that I restarted the game to take a different route (I had been there for nearly 3 hours with only 7 successful cycles -n-)

only 1 hour in to the new save and I've already made it all the way to the bottom of the wall in the same amount of cycles

moral of the story is memory crypts sucks

[the-real-rain-world-confessions]

I feel like that people who hanker on about Artificer being evil and vile just.

Miss the point of their story. Because the question was never about "is she evil for murdering every scav on sight because of her children" considering she’s naturally locked at karma 1.

It’s about well.

Honestly, possibly about many things.

But one I think is the helpless rage of being unable to change her circumstances for good. What’s the point of dying and restarting with her pups again if the scavangers are ready to kill a curious pup over what for all they know, are useless shiny trinkets? Natural toys to slugpups perhaps?

They are so frustrated by things outside their control that they are ready to cut ties with their beloved family and bring forth the senseless mad violence she experienced, which ironically traps them in the circle even more.

In that regard, they share similiarities with pebbles.

This is partially fuelled by my own experience with scavangers when playing, as a player that regularly aims for chieftan-;

Have you never been frustrated with Scavangers in Rainworld? Even at high rep? Cause I have been. It’s nice to be able to make them suffer consistently and effectively for every friendly fire that went unpunished against you but not your 1 attempt at trying to rescue a single one from a lizard, stealing pearls before you in subterranean and other shit and being atleast somewhat a pain in sky islands as Hunter. And idk man I usually like them.

…I do have to say it’s pretty funny though watching some people get very pressed about Artificer like they personally murdered somoene’s entire village, fucked their wife, and keyed their car. I get that angry murderhobos aren’t everyone’s favourite, but come on man.

.

[yoomtahsgf]

all 4 of my muses in fashion dreamer!!!

1. meeeeee :3

2. yoomtah zing from epithet erased (my beloved<3)

3. koishi komeiji from touhou subterranean animism (my bestie ^_^)

4. parsee mizuhashi from touhou subterranean animism (also meeeeee :3)

all items except for koishi's jacket are made by me ♡ come follow me and visit my showroom, my id is 7mXegDVkL8!!

extra info under the cut!!

NOTES: i use they/them only ♡ please dni if ur against selfshipping/self inserts/oc x canon, or if ur pr0/c0mship, thank you!!

i was so happy when i unlocked the plaid outfit set its SO CUTEEEEEEEEE theyre my favorite items for sure<3also i dont actually have the makeup or eye color unlocked i just got the makeup from one of the muse advisors and stole the eye color from another player who had it just for the photos but shhhhh LOL also idk if theres actually heart eye highlights in the game i hope there is bc itd be so cute but i doubt it bc i havent seen anyone with any............at least i can edit it<3

i was also super happy to unlock the set yoomtah's in too bc i knew since i saw it that i wanted to use it for her outfit<3i tried to make the colors match her canon hair colors as close as possible.........i wish there was hair more like hers too ueueueueu and also i had to edit her lightning eyes and lil cheek things too her character design is simply too powerful for any character creators KSJDKSJFK

as for koishi her outfit is rlly close to her canon outfit bc i already think its rlly cute and like the kind of fashion i can actually see her wearing<3i can also see her in like either mori kei or gurokawa with not much in between KSJEJDJDKF and this outfit is obviously more mori inspired!!ik there is circle-in-the-middle eye highlights but i havent unlocked them yet so until i unlock them i'll be editing them onto her LOL also her 3rd eye is always a little tricky to edit in but i think it turned out cute here ^_^

i REALLYLYYYYYYY wanted to use the frilled-collar t-shirt dress with choker for parsee to give it that yamikawa vent art print vibe but i have 0 luck with the gacha-only items in this game so i had to compromise</3but as soon as i finally get it i am for SURE updating her outfit!!!i was also stumped on what hat to use for her so since the jacket i used has bears on it i figured.bear hat!!also she actually is wearing green chain earrings in game but 1. u cant normally see her ears with her hairstyle 2. i had to edit her pointy ears in so i just used one of the chain brushes in ibis paint x to put it on her LOL

[delta-orionis]

Every once in a while I have the irresistible urge to listen to Touhou music

Tonight is one of those nights

[theherdofturtles]

Hi @hwsevents I'm late I learned about mythtalia march today weee but ah well I merged Tannhäuser and Hetalia. Hopefully the Pope's staff blooms flowers and I get forgiven unlike Tannhäuser.

For slight background, Tannhäuser is an old Germanic myth about Venusberg. In the mythology, all the old pagan gods have retreated into a subterranean world when Christianity overpowered and replaced them. A man, referred to as Tannhäuser, is tasked with guarding the entrance to the subterranean world to ensure the pagan gods do not return to the land. In some versions of the legend, Tannhäuser fails his task and is seduced by the goddess Venus and pulled into the subterranean world (sometimes his memories are fogged and he forgets the world above, less commonly this doesn't happen and he's just fully okay with going to Venusberg). One day, Tannhäuser successfully makes an escape and goes to Rome to ask the pope for forgiveness which in any version never goes well.

Anyway, here's my poke of fun at the beginning of Wagner's version of Tannhäuser:

The mist sunk into the ground around the quiet grotto… all was peaceful. If you considered bathing naiads, sirens flopping around on the grotto edges, a group of dancing nymphs and centaurs very peaceful. Honestly Arthur didn't know why or how he'd fallen asleep in this person's lap. Especially with this whole chaos around him.

Then, suddenly, Arthur snapped upward. You know he'd just had the most awful dream where he was… somewhere… a whole lot different than this place. Yeah. This place made him feel super misplaced. He couldn't quite recall why the dream made him so sad but it made his whole being shudder and he thanked the Lord that the dream was over.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and Arthur jumped. "Wha-"

The hand pulled him backwards, back into their lap, and then he heard the person speak… "Tell me, beloved, what's wrong?"

Oh… Francis? What the hell was Francis doing here— oh! Yes, he recalled. Francis was the… uh… god of love? Yeah, something like that. Arthur nodded to himself in confirmation. It made sense that Francis was Venus.

"I had this terrible dream," he said.

"Tell me about it?"

"Sure. I remembered the sound of church bells… voices, of people I think I once loved. Uh… how long have I been here?"

Francis suddenly looked nervous. "Don't worry about that."

"No, I could swear I'm not supposed to be here. It's a feeling that goes three meta layers deep. What happened? Wait a second… AHA!"

Arthur whirled around and cracked Francis's nose with his fist.

The satisfying way Francis’s eyes widened a half-second before contact, and the pop of his fist against his face, it was the most cathartic thing on earth.

Arthur shook his hand off as if to shake Francis's icky contact from it.

Francis flinched backwards from shock while clutching his nose. "My love," Francis whined, "what was that for!"

"Somehow I forgot you were a bitch."

Francis's affronted expression said he’d never expected Arthur to disrespect him despite all past history and experience Francis should have down by now. Wait… what past history? Arthur was just supposed to be the guard of Venusberg, he'd never had a past history with the god of love.

"How dare you!" Francis gasped, "how dare you insult all the sweet wonder my love devises for you! I made you immortal like me! In the mortal realm everything sucked for you, but here you can delight in my pleasure forever~"

"Gross…" Arthur scrunched up his nose.

"So just forget everything again about the world above the subterranean realm which the old gods have been banished too according to germanic folk mythology, my love, and sing about how beautiful and great and perfect I am," Francis wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'd rather marry a pig. By the way, wasn't I supposed to be guarding the entrance of this place to make sure you didn't escape?"

"Well, yes, but don't you recall in WWV: 70, Overture, when you're off-stage, the music is supposed to recall the Tannhauser folk ballad to the audience's mind so they'll know that I seduced you by the time the Opera has begun?"

Suddenly Arthur remembered who he was and why he felt so misplaced.

"Damnit. I'm stuck in a Wagner opera with you of all people. Does that mean Italy is the pope?"

[contentpaparazzi]

“kiss me (kill me)”, or “titania and oberon finally discover the OLD_DATA and end up widowed” (cw for body horror under the cut)

in an effort to gather info on improving their deckbuilding abilities and possibly deposing the scrybes entirely, oberon and titania seek out a potentially new source of power. the OLD_DATA possessing infinite knowledge is merely a rumor, something the scrybes are said to keep under oath or between the four of them, but prying knowledge from their subordinates had found them a lead.

titania had been the one to pay the price before she was promptly shot and killed by a well-dressed Man In Blue, never to be seen again. it was just standard procedure.

the two of them began their descent into subterranean territory, in an undisclosed location. oberon always carried the sigil of pentacles with him, so paying a small price was of no concern. titania, on the other hand, always kept her belt fastened to her hips, stocked infinitely with a variety of tools and solutions for any situation. she struck a match and lit a small candle, providing a flickering source of light in the humid darkness.

the two of them descended furthermore, the tension prickling in waves across their backs, but still determined to see this katabatic journey through to the end.

suddenly, and with no previous sign of diminishing beforehand, the flame from titania’s candle fizzled out, grey smoke wisping away into the blackness that encompassed them. only an overwhelming, damp, and alienating eigengrau.

then, oberon felt a small tingle. warm, with energy, but at the same time as cold and unfeeling as the rest of the environment. his ears perked, looking in the direction of where titania might be, judging by the way she shivered against him, her other hand gripping his arm tightly.

“did you feel that?” he asked her, and received a tense “oberon… i think it’s here,” in response.

a crackling, again. maybe not a crackling exactly, but whatever words either of them had to describe the sight before them would not have been enough.

(in front of them would be) in front of them is a blooming cacophony of sound and color (in front of them was), a corrupted fragment of void and lack thereof.

they were told not to handle it barehanded, if one should find a small piece of it, as if it were made of pure azoth, or the fragments of a fallen star.

however, out of sheer anticipation to inspect the fragment closer, they both rushed to seize it, overcome with an exhilarating feeling of power.

titania had been the one to seize it, what with her larger stature and longer arms. of course she had been. she had been the one who had worked the most to seek it out.

oberon rushed to her, never parting from his wife for even a second as he caught a glimpse of the crackling and ever-shifting mass in her hands.

“this is the purest form of energy i have ever laid my eyes upon” were her last coherent words before the crackling spread, erupting in a loud cacophony of static, raw energy, and ones-and-zeros, oberon nearly blinding himself by being in such close proximity to it. he could only imagine for a passing second what titania might have felt.

the cacophony grew louder and louder, oberon shrieking in pain as his ears rang, and every touch felt like pressing himself against the core of a burning star. despite the pain, he opened his eyes, flinching a few times before prying them open.

at the center of the cacophony was titania, writhing on the ground as scattered fragments of energy from the corners of the room spread out into lines across the ground like circuits, ones and zeros beginning to fade in and out periodically in the corner of oberon’s vision. her body was in agonizing pain, only able to let out desperate cut off screams before wretching forward and coughing up rendered blood and spaghetti code.

oberon weakly crawled his way forward in a desperate attempt to reach his beloved wife.

but before he could do so, titania’s upper torso burst from itself.

she stopped moving for roughly 5 seconds, oberon in disbelief, before she writhed again, her size growing exponentially in what had first seemed like a small room. her clothing, including her precious alchemist’s belt, had been torn to shreds and spread across the room in meager scraps along with what used to be cards and broken glass. at the center of it all was titania herself, a writhing abomination with more limbs than before and translucent wings breaking through the surface of her backs.

oberon stifled the urge to start screaming, cupping his mouth tightly over his nose and mouth as tears flowed.

titania (or what appeared in her place)’s large, vacant eyes stared into the darkness for a moment as she stumbled forward, trying to stay upright, before they met oberon’s, her darling husband’s little, loving green eyes.

“kiss me, oberon…” the creature lilted in her voice.

“k i s s m e . . .”

[dcu-rarepair]

Day 2 Gifts

Eight more amazing gifts for Day 2! Head to the Collection to check them out, and view the Release Schedule to see what’s in store!

We also have a handy Commenting Guide to help our Giftees with showing their Giftors some love. And now, here’s today’s works: 

I Will Not Love You (But I Can, Somehow) for syrennetim

Dick Grayson/Jean-Paul Valley Rated T, No Archive Warnings Enemies to Lover, Jean-Paul as Batman Dick hates Jean-Paul. The only problem with that is that he loves him too. Or, Azrael murders someone and Dick helps Jean-Paul cover up his crimes.

Black, White and Red for Murmeloni

Harvey Dent/Jason Todd Rated G, No Archive Warnings Art

Call Me Hot (Not Pretty) for Shenanigans

Cissie King-Jones/Cassie Sandsmark (Young Justice Universe) Rated G, No Archive Warnings First Kiss, Gay Panic, Getting Together Cassie’s day had been anything but quiet and uneventful – it hadn’t even been eventful in the Young Justice way, just the Wonder Girl way, so subduing the sea monster on the docks had been entirely up to her. So, once she’d finished dealing with all that, one would really think her beloved team members may understand that she was exhausted and achy and not moving from her position on the couch for at least the next century, but no. Apparently not. Or; Fellas, is it gay to lovingly cradle your best friend’s face while you help them get something out of their eye

carve your name into my arm for FleetSparrow

Clark Kent/Selina Kyle Rated M, No Archive Warnings Trans Clark Kent, BDSM The thing is, Selina knows how to read people. She knows what they want and more importantly, she knows when they're lying to her. And that's the thing about this unassuming nerd hunched on her couch; he is lying to her. And he is dangerous. But he doesn't feel like a threat.

And Alan Makes Three for BookofOdym

Sanderson Hawkins/Henry King Jr, Henry King Jr/Alan Scott, Henry King Jr/Sanderson Hawkins/Alan Scott Rated E, No Archive Warnings Voyeurism, Light Dom/Sub Hank is dating Sandy. Hank is sleeping with Alan. When Sandy catches Alan and Hank together, Alan takes it upon himself to teach Sandy just how to fuck a twunk like Hank properly.

Lightning Rod for dxncingquxxr

Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Wally West Rated T, No Archive Warnings Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence Wally, lost in the Speed Force, watches as his boyfriends have drifted apart more than they ever had before. He needs them together to escape, but he's unsure if this timeline will allow it. Really, he should learn that he has unending faith in his partners for a reason. - Rebirth but Dick/Roy/Wally and also only about them

Genesis 2:23 for TaxiCabToOwTown

Kon-El | Conner Kent/Lex Luthor Rated T, Warning for Underage Omegaverse, Dubious Science Most alphas would probably chafe at working under another alpha, instincts bristling at the perceived submission. Mercy doesn't care--everyone in Metropolis has Mr Luthor's boot on their throat, she might as well get paid handsomely for it. She could do without watching Mr Luthor throw scent at Superman and have it just slide off and Superman's poorly acted responses, but she guesses that's how they ended up here, in this subterranean lab.

Where the Light Shines Through for Ferox

John Constantine/Bruce Wayne Rated E, No Archive Warnings BDSM, Haunting Batman gives Constantine a severe look. “I asked you to meet me for your magical expertise. If you're too compromised to work, I’ll ask someone else.” “I'm fine. It's just a mild Drop. Which I tried to fix, by the way, but unfortunately it's impossible to get decent coke in your town. You should really lay off those poor, hardworking cartels. Anyway—” John crushes the butt of his cigarette under his heel, “—you said your friend needed help?” “Not my friend. A League benefactor.” Ha. John is smart enough to connect the dots. “Bruce Wayne’s got ghosts? Shocker.”