#the lonely shining goblin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orqheuss · 1 year ago

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For whatever we lose (like a you, or a me)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

Pre!Parenthesis Universe

Summary:

“Oh for the love of—” Sebastian cut himself off, quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing it at your chest. Images danced behind his eyes; Solomon destroying the plant that could have cured Anne; The blurry image of the goblin that had cursed his sister running from the house, cackling in villainous mirth; finding his parents bodies in the cellar, thick plumes of colored toxic smoke spewing from their cauldron. His vision faded to a striking black. White hot pokers stabbed into his temples, and he cast his wand at you in a blind rage. “Crucio!” *** The Scriptorium called your name, and who were you to ignore its song? At least, that's what you told yourself as Sebastian pushed you and Ominis deeper and deeper into the mausoleum.

Word count: 9k

Tags: arguing, violence, cruciatus curse, dark!sebastian (kind of), sexual humor

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

Not a sound could be heard in the moonlit, desolate hallways of Hogwarts. The distant star casted a haunting glow over the courtyard and shone through the grand windows of the Great Hall. Figures long lost to time danced through the paintings lining the hazelwood walls, waltzing to an imaginary concerto. The ghosts floating about chatted quietly about their history, telling tales of cadences forever forgotten in old textbooks. Their whispers shivered the leaves in the trees on the campus grounds, leaving them humming at the fall winds cascading from the sky and turning their once vibrant green spires into a burnt orange. Lanterns lined the Grand Staircase at the heart of the castle, a paragon of regality and the wisdom of the great wizarding school. Baroque styled banisters basked in the glow, expelling person-shaped shadows on the enormous walls lining the mystical architecture. Down the stairs laid an ornate stone door, its architrave adorned with a cosmic silver snake. Two freshly lit braziers framed the entrance and swayed in the steely breeze of the dungeons, its smokey ash pirouetting in romantic couplets towards the ceiling.

A third was sparked to life just down the way. The line of light seemed to lure in anyone who were to walk the halls past curfew; beckoning them with the promise of mischief and pleasure. Standing before the final brazier, basking in its luminescence, were three young students. One leaned against the far wall of the corridor, arms crossed tightly against his chest with a sullen look adorning his features. His eyes seemed to catch the light and shimmer like frosted glass on a winter morning. Another stood in front of the boy, directly under the cold stone of the giant candelabra. He was beaming with elation, his eyes glittering with waywardness and intrigue. His brown irises seemed to reflect the fire back in challenge, almost daring it to blaze brighter than he did. Between the two was the final student. A slight frown quirked the corner of their mouth, glancing back and forth between their two friends in trepidation. They could feel each emotion emitting from their companions like a thick fog, coating the hallway and leaving the braziers the lone match shining through the storm. Each felt something different about their quest— had different motives for the scintillating adventure. They all heard the distinct call to the Scriptorium before them, and felt more than compelled to answer. With a great rumble, the stone wall sloughed away and opened up to a chasm leading downward. A spiral staircase slithered from below and attached to the ledge, hissing out a stream of steam in its wake.

The three friends stood in awe at the display, amazed at the grandiloquence of the long dead wizard who made this place. They were about to enter Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium, a feat very few could claim as their own.

Sebastian Sallow turned on the balls of his feet and beckoned his friends over, a giddy look twinkling in his eyes and stretching his smile. The prospect of finding a cure for the curse that plagued his sister heavily outweighed any unease he may have had at the daunting entryway. He nearly vibrated with excitement— the need for thrill buried itself deep in his bones. He could taste the tombs of secrets hidden in the enigma before him, feel the leather bound books worn with oil from the fingertips of his house founder. The forbidden magic thrummed in his veins and set his blood aflame like the brightest sunlight. Something unfamiliar flashed in his eyes, something dark.

Ominis Gaunt, the heir of Slytherin himself, flicked his wand from his large robe sleeve and sparked it to life. A red light pulsed from its tip, and the hallway came more into focus in his mind. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards the imposing archway, closer to his family history simmering below. He looked striking, noble even, with his even, strong steps. Only someone close enough to be in his own skin would notice the slight tremble in his hands, the sweat that beaded at his brow. Anyone else with his condition could hear the steady hammer of his heart against his rib cage, the fast but even beats swimming in his ears and resting behind his eyes. He thought of his dear aunt Noctua, the last of the Gaunt’s to enter the foreboding mausoleum— how she had disappeared soon after finding its entrance. A shiver ran up his spine and something akin to fear lodged itself in his throat.

You looked on at the two boys. You had no feelings for this moment, nothing to go off of but the words of your two comrades. You peaked down the chilling stairs into the never-ending darkness. It seemed to hiss in contempt at being awoken. This metaphorical pit of serpents had fangs, and each dripped with a deadly poison befitting the strongest men. The blackness crept up your arms and buried itself in your hair— it whispered sweet nothings into your ears, enticing the ancient magic flowing under your skin. You inhaled the titillating aroma of devillment and stored it deep in your lungs. Excitement and worry crashed against your soul and swirled like a hurricane in your stomach, sending ripples of anxiety through your very bones. You truly didn’t know how you felt at that very moment, but you knew, more than anything, that you wanted to protect your friends. Something inside, though, felt familiar. Something was calling out to your magic, and you felt inclined to answer.

You pushed the anxiety aside for now. The two boys, now standing next to you, both had things they needed to learn from the Scriptorium, and you were going to help them find it. The idea of adventure took over your senses at that moment and spread heat through your chest, glowing as bright at the braziers you had just lit.

Even Ominis, a very stoic and reserved boy to most, seemed to have a gleam about his face that shimmered in eagerness. Not many knew, but he most definitely had a taste for chaos— he had to with the company he kept. There was something so intriguing about the Scriptorium to him. Maybe it was something forged in his very being, him being a Gaunt after all. Either way, the young wizard turned his attention towards his companions in a silent confirmation that he was ready to go. You cleared your throat hesitantly, drawing the attention of Sebastian away from the dark hallway before you.

“Alright boys,” you gestured towards the entrance with your hand, “shall we?”

The two nodded in your direction. Sebastian turned to you with a cheeky grin decorating his features. “I haven’t seen a tunnel this big since your mum.”

Another thing about the Sallow boy: he very rarely took anything seriously.

At the unimpressed look you gave him, he held his hands up in a placating manner, chortling to himself, “Aw, come on. That was a good one—”

You reached your hand towards his face and promptly thumped him on the forehead with a flick. Sebastian dropped the troublesome smirk and quickly brought his palm up to rub at the affronted spot, hissing through his teeth in pain.

You looked at Ominis next to you, and as if sensing your disappointment he shook his head while looking up at the ceiling, muttering to himself, “Merlin, help me,” before beginning to walk down the daunting staircase.

You and Sebastian fell into step behind the young Gaunt, trusting his instincts and sentient wand better than your fleeting eyesight. The tunnel was unequivocally dark, even the lumos dancing in front of your face barely pierced the surface. Your shoes made a distinct squelch sound on the wet cement with each step deeper into the pit.

Down,

down,

down you went.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, descending into the fathomless unknown. Each sound echoed off the tightly packed walls, bouncing back and forth like a well crafted game of wizards chess. The seconds ticked by slowly, cascading around you like the steady stream of drips coming from above. The piping loomed imposingly above your heads and drizzled along the black-stone walls. You must be truly under the castle, you supposed. You felt tightly packed like a tin of sardines— three fish wiggling together towards the unknown fate of the stew pot. Ominis could smell your discomfort behind him, and quite honestly, he was inclined to agree. He couldn’t sense the end landing, if there even was one, in the infernal devilry that was the accursed sepulcher. The scent and taste of mildew and stale air coated his nasal cavity and larynx, making it impossible to determine anything else from the two orifices. He would gripe about his lack of sight in situations like this, at least normally, but he doubted that it would make much difference at the current moment. There was truly nothing around them.

Sebastian could taste the unease in the air from his two companions, and he detested the feeling greatly. It was of the utmost disrespect to the boy to turn down adventure; there was absolutely nothing in this world that he didn’t want to poke and prod, to know how it ticked. If there was one thing that his parents passed down to him before they died, it was that. He understood that it was a daunting task, and a very large ask of his dear friends, to take this journey with him, but for Merlin’s sake, it was Slytherin’s Scriptorium! He had only ever read about this monumental library, hiding deep in the caverns of the Hogwarts underbelly. How could he say no to this journey, this discovery? If it helped Anne along the way, what was the harm of it all?

Just as you were beginning to think you would never leave the Hadean staircase, it finally puttered off to a smooth path of river-stones and a dimly lit concourse. Ominis stood at the forefront of the group, his wand casting a small bale-fire and illuminating more of the imposing hallway. Sebastian chuckled lowly behind him. Wrapping his arm around the smaller boy's shoulders and leaning his head towards you, his eyes focusing deep into the darkness before him, he hummed.

“Hmph. Dark, ominous corridors. My favorite!” He cheesed at your bubbling laugh, snickering to himself at the obvious annoyance of the other boy.

Ominis bemoaned the statement, groaning and throwing his head back minutely. A hand raised to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “No comment.”

You turned towards your blond haired friend, placing your own hand on his shoulder and leaning in next to his ear, a dangerously coy simper tweaking up the corners of your mouth.

“I certainly love one of Ominis’ corridors.”

The wiry boy wiggled out from under your arms, making a sound of disgust at the comment as his cheeks turned a bright fuchsia. Sebastian desperately held in giggles behind his hand, watching as the boy made an obscene gesture with his middle finger in your general direction. The taller boy stepped closer to the other, gently grasping his arm by the wrist and redirected the gesticulation to face more fully at you instead of a little to the left where it once was pointed. Both of you paused, looking between each other's eyes and the offending finger with barely contained mirth, before combusting dramatically into boisterous laughter. Sebastian leaned against the wall in support, nearly screaming around the laughs that wracked his body. You still stood across from Ominis, doubled over with your hands on your knees. Gasping breaths left your lungs as you teared up in humorous pain. Ominis’ scowl somehow got deeper, and once again he turned away from the pair of you and began to walk down the hallway himself— screw you two hooligans to the sticking place for all he cared.

“Yes, yes. Hardy har, laugh at the blind fellow. Incredibly mature, you both are.”

Sebastian walked up to your hunched form, patting you gently on the back before grasping at your shoulder and helping you stand. You both leaned on the other for support as the last of your giggles tittered into the air around you. Taking a deep, cleansing breath before shakily releasing the air, you began to walk after the tiffed boy. His haunches were raised above his ears, only the tips poked out and were flushed a light pink. You quickly ran to catch up with his quick steps, waving your wand around in front of you to avoid any obstacles in the low lighting. Your arm landed on his shoulders once again, and you sniggered jovially,

“I do apologize. That was terribly coarse of me, my dear Ominis.”

Sebastian slid up on the other side of the boy, wrapping his arm around his other shoulder and resting his hand at your elbow. He accentuated his accent, adopting an incredibly posh vernacular. “Indubitably. Frightfully uncouth of us. Please forgive us, dear friend.”

Ominis growled in the back of his throat, mumbling curses under his breath and shrugging off both of your arms. “Go lick a leprechaun taint, the both of you.”

You both gasped in outrage.

“How dare you, good sir!” Sebastian cried, a hand fluttering over his heart and a scandalized look decorating his visage.

You took a similar stance. “We are children of God! Deviant behavior such as that must be saved for one's wedding bed.”

The two pureblood wizards paused and turned towards you, confusion laced in their eyebrows. The brunette leaned closer to you, arms now crossed in befuddlement, and glanced at you from his peripheral vision like he was about to share a secret.

“What’s a ‘God’?” Sebastian whispered out of the side of his mouth.

You turned towards the boy, finger raised and mouth open with an explanation at the tip of your tongue. You quickly decided against it, though, as you knew it would just confuse them more. Best not try to explain muggle religion to two boys who have never stepped out of their small towns until it was time to go to school. You sighed, lowering your hand and about facing the end of the hall, ambling along ahead of the pack. The two boys shrugged and continued after you.

At the far end of the hallway stood two imposing stone walls, an ostentatious doorway slid into the space between. Looking at the entrance, embellished in the texture of scales and decorated with serpent imagery, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. Each turn in this maze of a catacomb seemed to linger with a foreboding aura, flooding your senses and raising the hairs at the back of your neck. You turned to look at Sebastian, now at your elbow just behind you. He was gazing at the door in pure curiosity, his eyebrows pinched together in contemplation. He ran his hand along the intricate carvings, tracing each snake with delicate precision.

Ominis slowly entered the room, his head tilted left and then right with a pensive look adorning his face. He stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes, seemingly listening to something that only he could hear. Soft hisses slithered through the room from the pipes above, adding to the dreadful vibe. Each hiss caused him to twitch in one direction to the next. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was possessed by a snake itself.

His eyes suddenly snapped open, startling you with his ferocity. He quickly paced towards the door, running his hand along the carvings with Sebastian. The homing signal at the tip of his wand cast an eerie glow on the wood, mingling with the green fire torches lining the walls. He leaned his ear on the door, listening closely to the whispers in the walls. He tilted his head towards the pair of students, gesturing with his chin at the entryway.

“It’s speaking to me.”

You quirked an eyebrow at the boy. “The wall is talking to you?”

He nodded, pressing his ear against the wall once again. You walked towards the blond, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead in puzzlement.

“Are you feeling alright, Ominis? Are you ill? How can the wall be ta—”

“Shush!” He gently grasped your arm and lowered your hand to your side. “No, you numpty. It’s speaking parseltongue, the language of snakes.”

Sebastian leaned away from the door, snapping his fingers in excitement and pointing at the blind boy.

“I forgot you could speak parseltongue!”

Ominis huffed to himself, trepidation coating his tightly spoken words, “Well, I don’t particularly enjoy it. Parseltongue is notoriously associated with dark wizards, something as you know I have tried very hard to disassociate myself with.”

He leaned away from the door, instead resting his hand on the wall beside it. He looked up, unseeing, at the grand archway decorating the edges of the room and listened carefully once again to the hissed whispers.

“I think I need to speak to the door for it to open. Please step back, the both of you. I don’t want you hurt if something goes awry.”

You both took a noisy step back, making sure to alert him since he briefly put away his wand in favor of leaning on the stone wall with both hands.

Ominis sighed to himself, blowing upwards and dislodging part of his hair from his styled quiff. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

From his mouth came a series of lethargic hisses, stringed together as if in a sentence. The sound seemed to fill the entire room, echoing off the stone walls and bouncing back at you from all angles. It amplified steadily as the hisses from above answered in turn.

Three of the decorative serpents came to life within the wood, slithering through the holes of the door and gliding along the edges of its carved trenches. A stream of mist puffed from its outer ridges, silencing the voices floating around you with a defined burst of powerful air. It blew the hairs dangling around your face backwards, tickling the tips of your ears and the back of your neck. Every hair on your body stood on edge and you suppressed a shiver.

The three of you stood silently for a moment, basking in the sudden quiet. It was like a bubble that had mysteriously appeared around your heads spontaneously popped, sending a rush of startling stillness pulsating directly into your ears.

Ominis was the first to break the spell, clearing his throat around the tightness that rested there, his cheeks glowing with a soft rosacea, and gestured through the now open doorway.

“After you.”

Your face broke out into an animated grin. “Ominis, you truly possess a rare ability, indeed!” You gently brushed your hand on his shoulder as you passed through the archway. Ominis’ cheeks blushed a darker red, and he reached his hand behind his head, rubbing softly at his neck in embarrassment.

“Oh, er, it’s nothing.”

Sebastian stayed in the back of the group, a scowl on his face and his arm crossed tightly across his chest. He glowered at the door like it affronted him, cursing it for allowing his friend to show his rare gift. Stalking towards the next room, irritation heavily prevalent in his steps, he muttered to himself the phrase you had just spoken in a mocking tone. He wasn’t sure which of you he should feel jealous of— you complimenting Ominis, or Ominis getting complimented by you.

Both, he decided. He was jealous of both.

The three students passed under the bend and entered into the next room of the monolith-lined maze. Once fully inside, the imposing door behind you closed with a loud slam. Sebastian ran at it, pulling desperately at the carvings and pushing with all his strength. Ominis joined him, throwing his weight at it with a grunt. The door didn’t budge.

“Shit!” Hissed the brunette, punching the door one last time before taking in the room behind him. “Guess we’re stuck in here until we find the next room.”

The blond leaned back against the wood, an annoyed puff of hair leaving his mouth. “Until we find the next room? How do we even know that there’s a next room? We could very well just be stuck here until we inevitably die of thirst or hunger, whichever happens first.” Ominis turned his head towards the sound of the pacing boy. “Sebastian, we’re eating you first.”

Sebastian stuttered in outrage, “Why me?!”

“Because it was your idea to come here in the first place!”

“Say that to my face you—”

Tired of listening to the boys argue, you lit the tip of your wand and began to explore the new area you had unlocked. It was a large stone room with a gunmetal gate at one end, a giant lock decorating the middle. Spiderwebs covered every corner, starting from the very far bottom corner and stretching to the upper corner across the room. You shuddered, thinking of the large arachnids you had fought not that long ago. You hated spiders. Making your way closer to the gate, you traced your finger along the lock, noting strange shapes in the metal. It seemed like it wouldn’t take a key like normal, it was a puzzle of some sort.

Turning towards your friends, you tuned back in their argument. They were face to face, arms crossed, with indignant expressions.

“It’s your ancestor that seems to like puzzles so much!”

“Look in a mirror, Sebastian.”

“How dare you!” He stuttered for a moment, wracking his brain for a suitable comeback, “Were you dropped on your head as a child?!”

Ominis scoffed, a sarcastic grin stretching his lips, “Oh, bold of you to assume I was ever held—”

“BOYS!” You shouted for them from the gate. “Can you have your lover’s quarrel later? I found something.”

Their faces instantly softened a fraction at the sound of your voice. They stepped away from each other, embarrassed by their squabble, straightened their cloaks, and walked over to where you stood.

Sebastian came up to the gate, running his fingers along the lock like you did, before grasping at the bars and giving it a good shake. The gate rattled against the ground, scraping at the concrete below, but refused to budge. He took a step closer, craning his head around and looking through the small slits in the metal. His collar dug into his neck uncomfortably. Growling, the boy tugged on the offending cloth.

“This bloody collar—”

The freckled boy stood back, looking at the gate once more for a moment before undoing his robe and tossing it unceremoniously to the ground. He shrugged off his jacket and vest next, leaving him just in his white button down and tie. He quickly pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, shaking out his arms in the process, and loosened his tie before undoing a few buttons near the top of his shirt. Grasping his wand between his teeth, Sebastian took hold of one of the horizontal metal rungs in the gate and pulled upwards with all his might. Still no movement.

A blush began to creep up your neck at the display before you, and you averted your eyes from the very attractive boy. You turned towards Ominis, only to find him in a similar state of undress. He was in the process of carefully undoing the buttons around his cuffs and folding the sleeves to his elbow. You noticed he had neatly gathered his jacket, vest, and robe and placed them atop one of the assorted rocks littering the ground. He began to walk towards the other boy, listening to his struggling grunts of effort. Your blush somehow got brighter.

“Let me try.”

Sebastian took a step back and waved his hands in a “have at it” motion. Ominis approached the gate in a similar stance to the other boy, flexing his forearms and pulling upwards once again. You could see his muscles straining under the material; he may have been slim, but he certainly wasn’t unfit. Eyes skipping from one boy to the other, one with his hands on his hips, panting at the effort he had just exuded, and the other now pondering the gate before him, a finger resting on his chin and hand resting on his other elbow across his chest, you suddenly felt like the room had gotten at least ten degrees hotter.

In your flustered state, you took a step back away from your companions. You bumped into something just behind you, a piece of sharp stone slicing through your shoulder. Releasing a hiss in pain, you grasped at the wound and quickly turned around, looking for the offending object. Just over your shoulder stood a large stone statue of a snake poised to strike. It was resting on two circular bases, one atop the other with just enough space between to twist them to different directions. You noticed symbols decorating the rims of each— they were the same shape and style as the two on the gate lock. You quickly crouched down and took hold of the stone, turning it until both bases lined up with the ones on the lock. A loud click sounded through the room and the gate before you opened.

The three of you quickly turned towards the sound, wands poised in front of you ready to strike. Seeing no danger, you all lowered your weapons and turned back towards the statue. You crouched yet again, running your fingertip along the other symbols.

You spoke to the boys over your shoulder, “It’s a puzzle. You have to match the gate symbols to the ones on the snake.”

Sebastian barked a laugh, coming up behind you and gazing at the sculpture. “Absolutely brilliant, you are! Bet I could do that just as well, eh?” He patted you on your shoulder with pride, not noticing your new injury. You clenched your teeth, a pained hiss escaping through the gaps. The brunette drew his hand back in alarm, looking at the small streak of blood on his palm. He took your arm gently, eyebrows furrowed at the medium sized cut in concern.

“Stars, you’re hurt! What happened? Are you alright?”

You placed your hand over one of his, looking at him over your shoulder and forcing a laugh. “That’s how I found the statue in the first place. I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.”

He looked at you with doubt, but let it go, releasing your arm and taking a step back. “If you say so.”

You stood, shaking out your arms and shoulders. His hands felt like small fires against the cool air of the mausoleum.

“Okay, Ominis and I will stay here and look for more of these puzzles. Sebastian, you go look in the other room and see if you find anything. Call out if you need backup.”

Sebastian saluted two fingers in your direction before running at the open gate, grabbing at the taller ledge of the other room and heaving himself up. You watched him disappear onto the other floor. You and Ominis spread out, each taking a different corner of the room. It was bigger than you originally expected, going on for at least the length of a classroom. There was another gate at the very center of the room, the same as the other. Your eyes scanned each corner of your side for the distinct shape of Salazar’s sculpt, calling to Ominis on the other side of the room.

“So, why does Salazar Slytherin like snakes so much, anyway?”

Ominis shrugged, “Some legends say that he was an animagus— that his form was a basilisk.”

You whistled lowly, “That’s a big snake.”

The boy chuckled softly, going back to the original silence directly after. Ominis bit his lip, chewing it over what he should say next. He didn’t like the silence, it made him feel like he was back home. The ambiance of the Scriptorium certainly didn’t help, either.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Are you truly alright?”

You smiled, moving over to his side where he was feeling along the wall. You rested your hand on his shoulder, a feather light touch that felt like a heavy weight because of his nerves. “I am, I promise. Please don’t worry about me, everything is fine.”

He turned his face towards your voice. “I always worry. About the both of you.”

Your face softened at the confession, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing at the contact. Brushing your thumb against his cheekbone, you felt a surge of nerves in your stomach; butterflies bumping around in the inner lining of your gut. You opened your mouth to speak.

“Ominis, I—”

A short shout cuts through the quiet. You both whip your heads in the direction of the open gate, calling out to the boy on the other side.

“Sebastian, are you alright?”

You hear him fumble around for a moment, calling in return, “The statue bit me! Be careful not to get it wrong!”

Ominis gently grasped your chin, turning it back towards his face. He listened to you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to continue your thought from before. The blond was incredibly nervous, hoping that you couldn’t tell that his hand was shaking. You hesitantly flick your eyes from his irises to his lips, soft and inviting. You wet your own, taking a shaky breath in.

“What were you saying?” Ominis whispered, his face a hairs length away.

Your eyes quickly slid over to the left, feeling incredibly hot under the collar all of a sudden. A strange shaped rock caught your attention, curved at the base like a worm. There it was, the final puzzle. You gasped, fumbling out of Ominis’ hold on you and quickly scurrying over to it, turning the dial to the shapes on the other gate. Just as yours slotted into place, a second click could be heard from the room over. The second gate opened with a loud, rusted creak, leading into a third, and what you hoped was final, room.

Sebastian made his way back over to the two of you, an elated grin stretching across his face as he gazed into the next section of the crypt. Ominis had dropped his arm when you de-tangled yourself, now crossing both in front of his chest with an expression similar to someone who smelled something foul.

The three of you crept into the room, wands poised for any danger that may come forward. The gate slammed shut behind you once more, trapping you there like before.

“Salazar Slytherin isn’t done with us yet,” Ominis whispered, a grave seriousness adorning his visage.

You quietly make your way to the other side of the room where a large, disfigured door lay. It was covered in carvings; scratches marred the corners, flowing dangerously into disturbing images of screaming faces. You felt the air around you grow even colder than before, a shiver running down your spine. There was a flutter of paper to your right, and you swung your wand towards the sound. The tip illuminated an old piece of parchment, covered in dust with sections of it nibbled away by rats. You gently pick up the letter, afraid it would fall apart at the slightest movement. On it was a journal entry of sorts, big looping cursive depicting the fate of the last explorer to make it to this room. You carefully scanned the note, each word filling your chest with dread. Gazing down at the ground near your feet, you quietly gasp at the sight of a decaying skeleton. Its bones were a stark alabaster against the gray concrete floor; spiderwebs weaved throughout the skull and down to the rib cage.

Noctua Gaunt.

You quietly ushered Sebastian over to where you stood, handing him the final journal entry of the woman before you. He scanned it, his eyes growing larger by the second and his face adopting a grim expression. The freckled boy looked at you for confirmation, and you gestured to the skeleton below. He gasped quietly in his throat, looking over his shoulder at the other Slytherin quietly pacing by the gated entrance.

You quietly spoke, sympathy lacing your tone, “Ominis, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. There’s a note over here, next to a body.” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “It’s Noctua.”

The boy froze his movements, head tilting down towards the ground in sorrow. “What happened to her?”

“The note says she was stuck in here, and that she could only open the door with an unforgivable curse. She didn’t have anyone else in here with her, so she was unable to escape.”

You walked up to the now shaking boy, his hands grasping at his opposite elbows to ground himself. You gently moved your hand to his shoulder, stroking the joint with your thumb. He roughly shrugged your hand away, returning to his pacing; his face morphed into a look of pain. His hands ran through his hair in anguish, mussying it up into a wild mane.

“She died stuck in here, and we will suffer the same fate. We will be stuck down here forever— the next person to enter will find our bodies like we found hers.”

Sebastian bent down to pick up the note you dropped, studying it closely again. He quickly paced towards you both, anxious nervousness rubbing off of him in waves.

“Don’t give up quite yet. She says that she couldn’t leave because she was alone and had no one to cast the spell on. There’s three of us— we can get out! We just have to cast the unforgivable.”

Ominis threw his hands down in agitation, spitting at the other boy, “That’s dark magic, Sebastian! Unforgivables are unforgivable for a reason. You can’t just cast one, you need to mean it, and I don’t particularly want to hurt either of you. Do you?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows knitted together in irritation, “If it means getting out of here alive and finding a cure for Anne, I’ll do anything I have to.”

You stepped between the two squabbling boys, holding your hands aloft to keep their distance from the other. This argument was getting heated fast, a darker, more dangerous aura rested under the surface than the argument in the prior room. You spoke to the brunette to your left, “Sebastian, which spell is it? What do we need to do?”

He scanned the note for a third time, eyes alight in a combination of rage and panic. His expression grew grave, and he felt something lodge itself in his throat. He forced the words out from around it, slightly choked with emotion, “We need to cast the cruciatus curse.”

Ominis’ wrath was palpable in the air, filling the room like a thick fog. “Absolutely not! There must be another way out. There is no way in Merlin’s name that I’m letting either of you cast that spell!”

The taller Slytherin growled, throwing the note down on the ground and pacing back to the horrifying door. He ran his hand along the faces, each twisted in pain. He sighed, pushing his anger back down into his chest. It would do them no good to argue with each other.

“I understand that you’re scared, Ominis, but there isn’t another spell. This is the only way out.” He took a deep, steadying breath, before finishing his thought. “You’re the only one here who knows the spell. It should be you who casts—”

“Are you soft in the head!? I would rather die than cast that spell again. I question our friendship just at the fact that you would ask that of me.”

Sebastian pressed his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose, pinching it in exasperation. He turned on the balls of his feet towards where you were, silently watching the fight with fright in your eyes. He walked towards you, placing both of his palms on your shoulders and looking deep into your eyes.

“It’s up to us, then.” He paused, searching your face for something. His eyebrows creased in concentration and something else that you couldn’t name. Fear? Anger? Assurance? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. He quickly spun away from you, beginning to pace the length of the room while muttering to himself, tapping his wand against his leg in a sporadic rhythm. You watched from your spot next to the door. It seemed to glow with evil energy, spreading its wicked tendrils around the room like a well-fed devils snare. You could almost feel it crawling its way into your nose and mouth, wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air from your lungs. Rapid breaths escaped from your lips, your heart pulsing rapidly in your chest. Your wide eyes, absolutely swimming in terror, refused to leave the daunting door. You open your mouth to speak, before a resolute voice cuts you off from your thoughts.

“Cast it on me.”

Your breath caught in your chest, freezing in your veins as your blood ran cold. Surely you didn’t hear him correctly? He wasn’t asking you to—

“Cast it on me, it’s the only way.”

You slowly turned in his direction, meeting Sebastian’s beautiful brown eyes, normally filled with warmth but now cold and hard. He stood directly across from you, the glow of the door casting a striking shadow on his youthful face. His demeanor was all straight lines; tight and unmoving in discernment. There was no changing his mind, he had made his choice— his figurative bed. He would rather take the curse himself than have to cast it on either of his closest friends. You saw the determination in his eyes, in the thin line of his lips and jagged edges of his clenched jaw. He was an immovable force, and who were you to try and bend physics to your will? You closed your eyes, gathering your resolve, before meeting his eyes once again. The fire behind your irises burned brightly, a blazing inferno ready to take the entire world into its flames.

“Alright, if you’re sure. Do you know the spell?”

He looked at the door again in trepidation before meeting your gaze, something unknown still swirling in his irises. “In theory. I can teach it to you.”

The both of you moved through the motions of the spell, repeating it a few times to make sure you knew what you were doing. The movements in itself felt dirty— wrong, even. Like you weren’t supposed to be privy to this kind of knowledge. Your wand arm felt numb, like the cold was seeping into your very bones and inducing hypothermia. You swallowed thickly, before raising your wand to Sebastian’s chest. You stared into the other’s eyes, both filled with intense worry and fright.

“Are you ready?”

The brunette took a deep breath through his nose, clearing his mind and attempting to calm his rapid heartbeat. He nodded his head, not trusting his voice, eyes squeezing shut in preparation for the unimaginable pain he was about to experience.

Your shaking voice spoke, mouth feeling weird around the accursed word.

“Crucio.”

A slight red spark shot from the tip of your wand, but no pain came to the Sallow boy. His eyes shot open, looking at you across from him. You were shaking like a leaf, staring confused at your wand and then at him. He knitted his brows in angered confusion.

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Ominis spoke from the back corner where he had sat himself, head leaning heavily on the wall behind him and his arms resting on the tops of his knees. His face was riddled with resignation. “I told you, you have to mean it. You have to want to inflict pain on the other person.”

Sebastian growled loudly, his teeth clashing together harshly as he clenched his jaw in anger. “If you’re not going to offer anything helpful, just be quiet.”

You stood in stunned silence at the boy's ferocity. He quickly rounded back towards you, teeth clenched in a near snarl. He pointed at you accusingly,

“Why aren’t you angry? You need to be furious! Yell at me— tell me this is all my fault! Let me have it!”

You stuttered at the boy, hands shaking even more forcefully now. You knew what he was doing; he was trying to make you hate him. He wanted you to be so angry at him that you could easily cast the curse. Unfortunately, the tactic seemed to have the opposite effect on you. Your heart ached for the boy, listening to each word he said and knowing somewhere in your heart that he thought this of himself. Apologies filled your mouth and spilled out like a waterfall of dismay. They splashed against the ground and the droplets sprayed everywhere, bouncing harshly against the echo chamber walls.

Sebastian continued yelling, rage pouring from his being, “Stop apologizing! I brought us down here, it’s my fault we’re in this situation to begin with! I’m the reason you have to cast this spell! You didn’t want to come here at all before I basically forced you and Ominis. Look at him, he’s petrified! I did this, cast it on me!”

Tears gathered in your eyes, horrified terror coursed through your body because of the boy across from you. He was breathing heavily, eyes ablaze and nostrils flaring like a bull. You had never seen him like this before. The anger poured from him and swirled around the air like a dense cloud, permeating every inch of the desolate cavern. Ominis hesitantly stood from the corner, intense worry spreading across his face. He slowly approached the two, steps soft and slow, hands outstretched in front of him like he was dealing with a raging animal. He could smell the tension, feel the red hot heat of fury and agitation.

He hesitantly spoke, his voice shaking with a soft timber, “Sebastian, take a step back. You’re scaring them.”

The frenzied boy rounded at his friend, snarling and gnashing his teeth, “No, they have to do this!”

You continued to spew apologies, the words getting swallowed by the thick, maroon fog and evaporating into vapor. Tears cascaded down your frightened face, staring unblinking at your rampaging friend. He was nearly foaming at the mouth in outrage, his eyes wild and hardened. He didn’t look like himself, a complete stranger in his own body. All Sebastian could feel was anger, extremely hot and branding his very soul with a wave of wrath. He could hear your pitiful cries, Ominis’ begging for him to stop. He wouldn’t let you both stand in the way of curing his sister.

“Crucio!”

Your screams filled the small room, ricocheting off the walls and burying inside the duo's ears. Ominis slapped his arms around his head, bending over in pain, his sensitive ears amplifying the violent outburst tenfold. His heart shattered in his chest at the sound of your pain, crushing his soul in its devastating grasp. The sound snapped Sebastian out of his trance, his face morphing into one of absolute horror and revoltion at what he had just done. He dropped his wand in shock, stumbling backwards into the nearest wall and sliding down it. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched you writhe on the floor in never-ending pain. He brought his hands up to his mouth, covering it in distress, and whispered curses and pleading apologies against his skin.

“Oh Merlin, what have I done? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”

Pain— that’s all you knew. Your blood was boiling under your skin, the veins feeling like they were going to burst out of you in a shower of blood at any moment. You clutched your abdomen in agony, nails biting into your arms in desperation. Blood ran down from your hands, coating your sleeves and staining them red. Each organ felt like it was dying slowly, decay seeping deep into your body and coating every surface. Your heart pounded harder than ever before, threatening to combust right through your ribs and out of your chest. Every nerve ending fired off in rapid succession, blazing through your body like a wild inferno and leaving intense burns in its wake. Your head was the worst. It felt like someone stabbed a freezing ice pick through your eye socket, retracting it and pushing back in with each pound of your heart against your skull. Bile rose into your throat, evaporating around the force of your wails of pain. You were curled on the ground, arms tight against yourself in protection. It felt like you would never be happy, be well, again. The torment went on for what felt like years, centuries even, wracking your body with heaving sobs and otherworldly screams.

In an instant it was over. Sparks of residual magic shot against your skin, shaking your body to its core. The world around you was dark and silent, your senses absolutely fried. A heavy weight was resting against your back, pressing against you with a relieving, grounding pressure. Your hearing returned first, flooding in like you had just rinsed the water from them.

“Come back to us! Are you alright? Damn it, please say something!” The panicked voice of Ominis filled your electrified brain, the sound grating against your ears. He pressed his palms against your cheeks and raised your head from its spot on the cold ground, wiping the tears from your face. He rested his forehead against yours, listening closely to your shuddering breaths. “Please, give me a sign that you’re still in there.”

A groan eased its way out of your tight throat, pushing past the damage your screams had done and croaking through like a toad. Ominis sighed in relief, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gathering you gently in his arms. He stroked your hair, letting the last of the tremors make their way out of your body. Your consciousness faded in and out, lids fluttering open and closed around the blackness resting just behind your eyes.

“Shush now, don’t push yourself. Everything’s going to be okay.” Ominis gently coaxed your head to rest against his collarbone, his cheek pressing against the roof of your head. He continued his movements along your hair absentmindedly, lulling you into a soft sense of security.

The blond spoke to the distraught boy behind him, voice devoid of any emotion. “We need to get them to the infirmary.”

Sebastian broke out of his morose stupor, panic rising in his voice, “We can’t! She’ll know that we’ve used an unforgivable! Not to mention, we’re out past curfew. We’ll likely get expelled, or worse!”

Ominis sighed inwardly, his head leaning back and smacking against the wall behind him with a dull thunk. He knew that Sebastian was right, no matter how much he wanted to throw the boy to the wolves at that very moment. If they were to bring you to the hospital wing the nurse would ask all three of them questions, and none of them were prepared for that. There wasn’t a single lie in the world that would be that convincing. With a final growl of agitation, he made a decision.

“Fine, the Undercroft, then.” He leveled the taller boy with a harsh glare. “Go get whatever you’re looking for and meet us down there. I hope this trip was worth it, Sallow.”

The clock tower sounded three times, signaling the beginning of the witching hour. Two students rested against the chaise lounge conjured up out of an old shipping crate. Your shoulder had been dressed, the bandage peeking out from under your ripped blouse. The same was done for the indentations on your arms, half moons lining your biceps in a circle from your sharp nails digging into your skin. Ominis gently stroked your hair from where your head rested on his lap. You had fallen asleep not long ago, your quiet whines of pain tempered out and gave way to startling silence. Anger festered under the boy’s skin, warming him to an uncomfortable degree. It burned in the back of his mind, boiling against the memory of your screams and whimpers of immense pain. He had half a mind to curse Sebastian where he had stood in the Scriptorium. Ominis heard his panicked breaths and whispered apologies after he brought you to your knees, truly realizing the damage that he had done and the dangers of dark magic. Good, he thought. Maybe he’d finally stop moving down the dark path that he was so set on. He deserved to beg for your forgiveness.

The metal gate of the Undercroft squeaked open, the sound of heavy footfalls following after. Ominis gently picked up your sleeping head, standing from the chaise and lowering you onto one of the many pillows lining the cushions. He quickly paced towards the brunette, eyes blazing with barely concealed fury. Sebastian paid no mind, flipping through the large tomb he had collected from Salazar’s Scriptorium. He looked up and saw the approaching boy, not noticing the very prevalent anger on his face.

“Ominis, you’re not going to believe what I found—”

The smaller boy slammed into him, pressing his forearm against his neck and shoving him harshly into the nearest wall. His wand was pressed against his chin, glowing menacingly in the candlelight of the hideaway. The blond’s mouth was twisted into a gruesome snarl, teeth looking like fangs in the dim lighting. Sebastian gulped against the arm pressed against his larynx. He dropped the book in surprise, a cloud of dust puffing up from the ground at its harsh landing. Even though Sebastian knew that Ominis couldn’t truly see him, the boy’s heated glare seemed to set fire to his very soul.

Ominis growled at the taller boy in a gravely low voice, his teeth gnashing around each word. “If you ever hurt them again, you will be dead where you stand. This is the last I want to hear of dark magic, Sebastian. You’ve gone too far; people have gotten hurt. Promise me that you’ll stop— you’ll find some other way to heal Anne, or this friendship will continue no longer.”

Sebastian nodded as much as he could around his friend’s arm, squeezing the words out of his crushed throat, “Yes, I understand, I’m sorry!”

The anger seemed to evaporate from the smaller boy in mere seconds, his arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slumping. He grasped the front of the freckled boy’s shirt, leaning his forehead against his chest with a heavy sigh.

“I almost lost you both today. I can’t do that, don’t make me live through that again. Please, I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t bear the thought.”

His shoulders began to shake, tremors rocking his entire body and sending the tears gathering in his eyes down his pale cheeks. He softly cries into the shirt of his friend, grasping harder at the cotton between his fingers and burying his face even deeper. The freckled boy stands still for a moment, startled by the sudden emotional whiplash. He hesitantly raises his arms and circles them around the shoulders of the crying boy, looking over to your sleeping form with guilt swirling in his eyes.

He had hurt both of his friends today over something he thought was so trivial, so insignificant. He just wanted to find a cure for his sister, not cause undeniable pain to those he loved. He truly was turning into a monster; the dark magic he was so fascinated by had begun to circle around his heart, squeezing it with its thick tentacles. Sebastian buried his head into Ominis’ neck, deeply breathing in his scent. The mildew of the cellar was thick against his skin, but reminisce of his expensive cologne and natural scent, something musky and rich, still lingered there. He focused on it, the familiar smell warming his insides and bringing his heartbeat to a slight increase.

He hadn’t promised the boy that he’d stop exploring the dark arts, instead twisting his words into something that sounded like agreement. Sebastian knew that he would come to regret that decision, but he couldn’t give up on Anne. She was his flesh and blood, his twin sister. She was everything to him. He knew that he would hurt his two closest friends more than words can express with his decisions, but deep in his heart he believed that he was doing the right thing.

With a heavy heart, Sebastian basked in the comfort of the Undercroft and the arms wrapped around his waist, praying to anyone who would listen that this wouldn’t be the last time he felt this safe.

AN: Did I make an "Ominis gets pegged" joke? Yes, yes I did.

***

like what you read? here's more!

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anne-chloe · 11 months ago

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Underground | III |

Jareth/The Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary: You discover a beautiful green area and the company of a gorgeous unicorn. The beauty of the labyrinth is almost blinding, and you find it even more so when the Goblin King shows up.

You entered the greenery with extreme pride, pleased that you had made it so far with only a scratch for an injury. Albeit, bleeding and trickling down your arm, but still a much preferred option compared to the alternative.

You weaved around the tall hedges, craning your neck back to spot the tops. They were all meticulously cut and trimmed, not a single piece of leaf or twig sticking out. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the labyrinth, which seemed jagged and deliberately dangerous. This, however, felt calm and serene, like you had just stepped into a dream.

You admired the flowers that poked out from underneath the hedges. You blinked in awe at the bees and ladybirds that danced around the delicious nectar. You watched, feeling happy, as a butterfly soared past your face, its wing brushing delicately against your nose. You hummed in excitement, sensing the life that this very section of the labyrinth contained.

For a moment, you had almost forgotten as to why you were within the labyrinth. The calm of this section made you feel extremely at ease. You caught yourself smiling. You let the sun shine down on you. You soaked up the moment.

And then, you spotted a horse moving behind the hedge. You listened to his hooves clicking against the stone floor. You stepped beyond the hedge, careful with your placement as you searched for the creature that would surely add to the serenity.

To your amazement, you came face to face with a mythical creature, even more dazzling than fairies and goblins. You concealed a gasp, your eyes twinkling under its cautious stare.

You remained rooted to the spot, watching as the unicorn huffed and wheezed, shaking his head. Glitter sparkled from its mane; its tail swished, sending a wave of wind in your direction. You stared in awe, your childhood self urging you to approach it and fulfil your childish dreams and wants.

"How beautiful," you mutter softly. You step closer, amazed that the stark white unicorn didn't even flinch or flee at your approach. It watched, curious, as if it knew you meant no harm at all, no malice. You lifted up your hand, your fingers gently brushing again the unicorns nose. "I never thought I'd meet a creature as stunning as yourself."

As if it understood you, the unicorn stood proudly. You smiled and continued to run your fingers through its soft coat. You were filled with glee at this very moment. The entire situation felt unreal, so serene that it must be a dream of sorts. But the pain in your arm kept you grounded to reality—it wasn't a dream, and you were truly here, standing in the middle of a labyrinth and fussing over a unicorn.

"I wonder, are there more of you?" You asked calmly, the unicorns eyes catching your curious gaze. It snorted, pulling its head away and looking into another direction. You followed its gaze, eyes trailing to a fountain that depicted a unicorn and a fae rider. You blinked in awe, approaching the detailed fountain, watching as water spurted from the fae's hand and pooled into the bottom.

At the base of the fountain were words carved in stone.

The Last Of Us

You frowned.

The last of us? You repeated in your mind, trying to pick apart its meaning. You turned back to the unicorn, who lingered nearby, a sadness present in its gorgeous eyes. You timidly approached, this time you hand stroking its nose with a particular type of love.

"The last of your kind," you repeated quietly. "You must be so incredibly lonely."

The unicorn seemed to sense this. It huffed again, now pushing its nose into your side. It nudged you firmly, as if to now guide you away from the fountain. You furrowed your brows at this, trying to understand what the unicorn was doing. It continued to guide you forcefully to a gap in the hedges—if you hadn't have been looking, you wouldn't have even noticed it. Then, the unicorn stopped pushing you, but it planted itself firmly behind to stop you from moving backwards.

"Does this lead to the castle?" You asked, glancing over your shoulder at the creature. It snorted, nodding its head in a motion that signaled 'yes'. You turned to fully face it, hands cupping both sides of its nose, thumbs massaging in circles. "Why don't you come with me? I'd love the company."

The unicorn seemed to digest this suggestion. It paused, contemplating. Then, as if decided, it lowered itself to the floor. You laughed in excitement and gently climbed onto its back, fingers entangling into its mane. You scratched between its ears as it carefully stood up, now mindful of its passenger.

You immediately felt taller. "Okay, let's just keep moving forwards. You seem to know your way around the labyrinth, is it okay for you to take me straight to the castle?"

Again, the unicorn nodded. You gave another appreciated scratch, pleased that something was going right for you. You thought you'd be stuck navigating the labyrinth on your own, facing the traps and tricks with only your own wit about you. So this came as a relief, to have secured a partner to help overcome such hurdles.

The unicorn began moving forwards, taking you deeper into the hedged labyrinth. This way, you were able to admire the beauty behind the Goblin Kings domain. It truly was a sight to behold. He didn't seem scarce on the glitter; everything had a glimmer to it, and that made you feel as though you had truly stepped into a fairy tale, especially with the added company of a unicorn.

It made you wonder about the Goblin Kings main goal. When granting wishes made to his goblins, it was clear he took the words very seriously. Is that how he remained to firm in power? Or was there something else that kept him at the throne? If the Goblin King continued to make humans part of his kingdom forever once the timer ran out, what would he do with them? The labyrinth was huge, and from what you could see, the city was too, which meant it housed a lot of his subjects. The Goblin King couldn't have just secured his power by snatching away humans; there must be something more that kept him in charge.

The unicorn came to a stop and lowered itself down. You slid off of its back and eyed the area cautiously. It seemed serene, even more calm and relaxed than the hedge maze you had willingly walked into. You turned around, taking in all the glistening trees, the crystal clear water that ran through the wooded area, the luscious green grass under your feet, the golden flowers that dotted the landscape.

You moved to the flowing water. It wouldn't be difficult to jump across, or even walk through. It wasn't very deep at all. You peered down at your reflection, grimacing at what you saw.

You looked like a total mess.

Your hair had been thrown into a haphazard, messy bun during your intense session of dance at rehearsals. Your makeup, though still intact, the mascara was slightly smudged under your eyes, a few thin streaks of black stained into your cheeks from where you had been crying at Harry's infidelity. You frowned, fingers gingerly touching the stained streaks. Your lip gloss had since faded, not that it would make much of a difference to your appearance.

Is this what you looked like when the Goblin King had arrived? So torn apart and broken? You felt embarrassed. You always tried to look your best no matter the situation, and this was definitely not it.

You lowered to your knees and scooped some water into your palms. Then, you splashed the water into your face. You continued this motion a few times, washing away the makeup that made you look so distraught. Perhaps it was why the creatures of the labyrinth had taken pity on you, insisting on helping you when you asked for it.

Finally, you looked down into your reflection once the water settled again. Much better. Without a trace of makeup behind, your bare face remained. You sighed, now looking back over at the unicorn, who had taken to sipping some water from the river. It seemed so content and at ease, it made you wonder if there truly was anything dangerous in the labyrinth like the Goblin King had warned.

"I see you found my gardens."

You flinched and tended at the silk voice of the Goblin King. You snapped your head to the side, immediately identifying that the Goblin King was standing behind you, leaning casually against a tree with his arms folded. He eyed you with a certain fondness that you couldn't place, and his eyes flickered between you and the unicorn.

"Are your gardens not part of your labyrinth?" You asked, raising a brow at his choice of wording.

He nodded with a smirk. "They are. You can only find these gardens if you're deliberately searching for them. I suppose recruiting my steed opened its access to you."

His steed. You glanced sparingly at the unicorn, who hadn't taken any notice of the Goblin Kings arrival. It seemed indifferent to him, uncaring and unbothered. Unlike the way it had greeted you back in the hedge maze, with an air of friendliness, it simply acted as though the Goblin King was not there at all.

The Goblin King sauntered closer to you. He reached out his hand, offering for you to take it. You accepted, slipping your fingers between his gloved fingers. He gently helped you to your feet, and now you stood in front of him, closer than ever before. You tried not to shiver as his gaze scrutinised you from above, knowing he was analysing every aspect of your person.

Then, he leaned down, his nose dangerously close to brushing against yours. "How are you enjoying my labyrinth?"

What an odd question. You had been expecting a riddle of sorts, a phrase of trickery that would send you fleeing into the main section of the labyrinth. Perhaps even a taunt that your ex fiancé was experiencing a horrid time in his castle, a word of warning that would set you back on track. Instead, he desired to know of your experience in his domain.

You mulled it over. It hadn't been... completely terrible. Aside from the fact that you had almost plunged to your death, with no thanks to the Goblin Kings cruel intervention, you had found that the labyrinth was rather pleasant. Sure, it was tricky with its twists and turns that left you spinning in circles, feeling dizzy and lost at times, but the dangers he had promised seemed utterly absent.

"Your labyrinth is beautiful," you settled with, a compliment that would surely flatter the King. You watched with ease as his lips quirked into a genuine smile, and you knew then that you had made the right choice of words. "It's very thought out," you continued smoothly, "and the creatures I have encountered are simply wonderful. Being here is almost like a dream."

The Goblin King's smile faltered, now turning into a rather strange smirk. "Almost?" He echoed.

You nodded. "Almost," you repeated, "because as a dream it would be disappointing, but as reality it's truly something to admire."

The Goblin King reached his hand out, his fingers encircling your injured arm with great care. He lifted the limb into view, his eyes trailing over the cut that ran from your wrist to your elbow. He pursed his lips at the sight, and you wondered if he didn't like the view of blood stained to your skin. You tried to pull your arm back, but he kept it firmly in place.

"The water has healing properties," he interjected, successfully changing the subject. You directed your stare between your arm and the water, which continued to trickle serenely to your side. "It's good for more than just drinking and washing your face."

You felt your cheeks flush in slight embarrassment, to which his eyes twinkled in amusement.

The Goblin King released your arm and stepped back. You turned to the water and crouched down again, willingly sinking your arm into the water. You used your other hand to splash water at the sections of your arm still visible. You hadn't even noticed that your arm was still hurting, but as the pain practically washed away with the water, you released a sigh of relief.

You turned your head back to the Goblin King, to thank him for his advice, but found your words falling on deaf ears as both the King and unicorn were no longer in sight.

You were alone again.

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rose-and-thorn-fanfics · 2 years ago

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“We’re Choosing The Path Between The Stars…” (Jareth x Fem! Reader) Fanfic Part 2

“What could I possibly wear to a masquerade? I’d hate to be dressed too plainly,” Y/n wondered out loud.

Jareth laughed. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I have an entire chamber filled with the finest garments for occasions like this.” He stood up, offering her his arm and gently guiding her down a long candlelit hall riddled with puzzling and abrupt turns. “Here we are.” He said, ushering her inside a circular chamber decorated much more extravagantly than the basic stone halls he had led Y/n through. Y/n let out a quick gasp, eyes sparkling with joy as she beheld the gowns with big sweeping skirts and bejeweled bodices, and suits with shining sequins and silk cravats. She let go of Jareth’s arm, rushing towards one of the gowns and picking it up, holding it to her chest and twirling around the room.

Jareth tilted his head to the side, observing with a good deal of amusement as Y/n stood in front of a mirror, comparing the colors of the different dresses against herself. He had never seen such a lively girl as the one before him. She seemed completely different from the girl he had found beaten and bruised in her bedroom just a few hours ago. Jareth made a mental note to be careful. It was important he maintained his regal countenance. This girl was dangerously close to melting his cold heart.

“Which one should I wear?” Y/n asked, gesturing to several different dresses. “I like the one with these dramatic sleeves, but the fabric on this one is exceptional, and oh! This one has such detailed embroidery, I think it would highlight my waist nicely.”

Jareth smirked, wearing a a mask of smug indifference. “Surprise me.” He said.

Y/n feigned pouting, slightly annoyed he didn’t contribute any opinions. “Fine by me. I’m going to change now, so you should probably leave.” She said, picking up another gown. When she looked back up Jareth was gone. Y/n paused, staring at the empty doorway for a bit, then closing the door and trying on the dark burgundy dress with the red garnets. As se looked in the mirror, she smiled. But her smile faded as a thought occurred to her. ‘What was the true motive behind the dashing and powerful goblin king saving her from her abusive parents? If Y/n remembered correctly (from the fantasy fiction novel called Labyrinth) Jareth was a master of lies and manipulation. He was as deceitful and treacherous as he was beautiful. She frowned, shaking her head. ‘Whatever his intentions are… anything is better than returning to my wretched life at home. I was so lonely before. No one in the world cared about me. At least for now I have someone who looks at me without hatred and disappointment, even if Jareth’s interest in me is only a fickle whim of fancy.” Y/n tried on a few more dresses before deciding on the one that looked most magical on her form.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Y/n wandered the halls, following the sound of the music she heard in the distance. Soon enough she arrived in front of wrought iron and glass double-doors that emitted a soft, dreamy glow. She entered, her heels that she had found in the other chamber clicking softly on the white marble tile with silvery veins running through it. She gaped in awe, unsure of where to look. Tables draped in pearly satin were piled with delicacies, and diamonds hung overhead from ghostly chandeliers as masked dancers spun gracefully around Y/n. The music was hauntingly beautiful, like a music box playing the notes of a love song long forgotten. The walls were mirrors, reflecting the light of the candles in a dizzying spectacle. Y/n realized she wasn’t wearing a mask, and a few of the dancers stared at her with curiosity. She weaved through the crowd, searching for Jareth. Something seemed off about the other guests at the masquerade. She shivered as she passed two women laughing heartily at a man with a particularly odd mask.

Jareth watched Y/n from a distance. She was so angelic. The dress she had chosen enhanced her beauty in ever way without taking away from her natural radiance. Her bruises were almost unnoticeable with the wa her hair fell on her shoulders and brushed her cheeks. He wondered if such an angel would ever fall for a devil like him. The thought triggered a feeling inside him that Jareth could not explain. The last time he had felt that way…. He grinned, suppressing any doubts and striding towards Y/n.

Y/n was growing more and more alarmed with the way the other guests were watching her and snickering. Finally, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Is something the matter, darling?”

“Jareth?” Y/n said spinning around to face the goblin king. She sighed with relief upon seeing him. “You look-“ Her voice cut off. She searched for words, but felt overwhelmed by how handsome the king was.

He chuckled, aware there wouldn’t be a word to finish that sentence. “Shall we dance?” He offered, gesturing to the dance floor. Y/n blushed and nodded. Jareth took her into his arms, carefully leading her through the steps of a waltz. There was an unmistakable electricity between them, and while Y/n had never considered herself to be much of a talented dancer, Jareth made the movements seemingly effortless for both of them.

On their second dance, Y/n finally built up the courage to ask him the question that had been bothering her. “So…” She said, meeting the goblin king’s gaze. “Why did you save me? And why are the other… dancers staring at us like that? They seem to be mocking us, or at least, mocking me.”

Jareth sighed, as if he had been expecting that question. “Would you really like to know? Sometimes ignorance is bliss, Y/n.”

“I really want to know.” Y/n insisted.

The goblin king frowned, displeased by this answer. He led her off to the side of the dance floor and onto a balcony that overlooked a seemingly endless starry night. When he was sure they were alone, just the two of them, he began. “Those dancers are… were… the High Court of this kingdom, under my rule. Surely you didn’t think a man of my status would only rule over mindless goblins, did you?”

Y/n was silent, curious and concerned at where this conversation was going.

Jareth continued. “I also… had a queen. That was many years ago.” His face was expressionless but the pain shone in his eyes. “The High Court hated her. They conspired against her and killed her while I was away. And when I returned…” Jareth turned to Y/n laughing bitterly. “I killed them all in my rage, trapping their ghosts in an eternal masquerade. It was easy enough, as they were no match for my magic. Suitable, too. Their falsehood and facades mirrored in the masks they can never go without. He grinned, slightly crazed by the memory.

Y/n stood, watching Jareth in shock, before she said simply, “A poet once said… ‘tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway’.” She placed her hand in Jareth’s as she looked out over the balcony at the glittering midnight abyss below.

Jareth entwined his fingers around her’s, staring out with her at the night sky.

“So why am I here?” Y/n whispered gently.

The goblin king turned, leaning towards her and initiating a passionate kiss that stole Y/n’s breath away. When their embrace parted, he brushed her hair behind her ear. And cupped his hands around her face. “You’re here because you deserve the world. And I can give that to you. Would you be my new queen?”

“I…” Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. “If you promise to love me… If you promise to never hurt me… then yes. I would love to be your queen. I’d love to be your anything… I’d love to be your everything.”

Jareth pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “I promise.”

The End!

#fanfic #labyrinth movie #Jareth #jareth x fem! reader #labyrinth 1986 #labyrinth #labyrinth 1986 fanfic #labyrinth fanfiction #the goblin king #movie #fanfic writers #fanfic reading #writing #fanfiction

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obsidiancreates · 1 year ago

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The Second Chance Of The Third Age (Part 2)

“Right, let's get these lined up,” Bilbo says as he helps cram the chairs around the table. “Got so carried away with the food I forgot about this. Thorin, can I sit beside-”

Thorin sits and pats a chair that's already next to his, and Bilbo smiles and takes the seat. Thorin reaches over and clasps Bilbo’s hand tightly in his own, and Bilbo turns his hand over to hold it back.

“I think we should start by making sure everyone's caught up,” Bimbo says as Gandalf, last of all, settles into a chair a bit to the side. The wizard in question raises his eyebrows.

“I don't believe that to be wise, Bilbo-”

“Oh, but I do. We're not dancing around the topic, Gandalf, not when things are as serious as they are.”

“That's an understatement,” Gloin grumbles, well aware of exactly what Bilbo was thinking of. “That should go first, I think.”

“Right. Yes. Six of you… never knew.” Bilbo clears his throat, clearly withholding a few tears. “Well, to keep it short, in about seventy or so years Sauron will return.”

Thorin stiffens, and Fili and Kili gape. Oin turns to Dwalin with wide eyes, and he doesn't even need to ask if he'd heard right for Dwalin to nod. Balin presses his hands to his mouth, muffling a low, mournful sound, and Ori chokes on the ale he'd been drinking.

“What's more, I uh… may have discovered, when he did, that I ah… picked up his One Ring in the goblin tunnels. And I'd used that ring on our adventure many times, as well as to, ahem, to avoid unwanted guests and relatives, later on.” His voice is tight, and his expression much the same. An old, old guilt rests behind it all.

For a moment there’s nothing but silence and stares, horrified stares. All but those returned from early death and Gandalf knew that he'd had The Ring, of course, but hearing he used something so terrible so often and on such casual uses as avoiding company…

“It did get destroyed,” Bilbo quickly assures, looking at Gandalf. “And I did give it up. My nephew- well, technically cousin, but we'd always been more like nephew and uncle than cousins- took it to Mordor and destroyed it. You were involved in that too, of course.”

Gandalf eyes Bilbo quizzically. “You gave it up? By your own will?”

“And a push, from um, from you,” Bilbo admits. “But yes, I left it behind when I was eleventy-one and traveled to- well, I intended The Lonely Mountain, but I only got as far as Rivendell before age caught up.”

“My son helped in the quest,” Gloin chimes in, eyes shining with pride. “And got that miserable wood elf prince wrapped around his finger in the process! ‘Goblin Mutant’ indeed, ha! The right bastard couldn’t stand to be parted with my boy after they returned!”

Bilbo makes a sort of hum-whine noise. “Not quite how that went. Granted, Legolas smuggled Gimli into Valinor, but I wouldn't say he was wra-”

“Well I do. Imagine Thranduil's face! His own son, bringing a Dwarf of Erebor to their cherished lands! Ha!”

There's a cheer with the much lighter, happier news, and a quick round of drinking in honor of Gimli, Elf-Charmer.

Gandalf looks near ill.

“Wait.” Fili looks around the table. “Bilbo said six of us didn't make it.”

Balin, Oin, and Ori raise their hands- Ori somewhat hesitantly. Dori and Nori have been glued to his side the entire time, and now they both somehow manage to move even closer to him, like an overfilled sandwich crushed in a desperate grip.

“In Khazad-dûm.” Balin's voice shakes, eyes brimming with tears. “I… I lead a party to try and reclaim it. I can never beg enough for your forgiveness-”

“Don’ you dare to start, then,” Oin interrupts. “Ori and I knew what we signed up for.”

Ori has both of his arms around his older brothers, all three crying quietly. In his own last moments, as he scratched out a recounting of their doom, Ori’s last thoughts had been that he hoped his brothers would be alright without him.

“Balin.” Thorin's voice cracked. “Why?”

Balin shakes his head, drawing a shuddering breath. “I don't know. Grief, maybe. Hubris, after we reclaimed Erebor. It's hard to remember why I felt it so important after all it took from us.”

“... If-if it helps,” Bilbo says, “Gimli was able to pass through with his company. He saw the mines of mithril, the great halls- Frodo said it was a wonder, for all the perils it brought them, and… all the grief.”

Balin is quiet for a moment, and then nods. “At least one Dwarf lived to see it, I suppose. But I hope he won't pass through it again in this life.”

“As if I'd let him,” Gloin says, mostly reassuring his brother. Oin nods thankfully.

“But that’s only three, four counting me.” Fili’s eyes travel the table, but they never land on the remainders- not until Kili puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and then looks to their uncle as well. Fili looks between them, paling. “No.”

“It won’t happen again.” Kili grips his brother’s shoulder tightly. “We’ll stick together, no matter what.”

“And with luck, kill Azog long before The Battle. I’m sure I couldn’t convince either of you to return home even I tried-”

“Not a chance of it,” the two princes say in unison. Forgiveness is unspoken but present, clear in the loyalty still shining in their eyes- and for now, in this moment of joyous reunion and somber planning, it keeps the guilt of the king at bay.

“Now uh, onto the business of The Ring. I'll have to find it again, to destroy it, of course.” Bilbo swallows thickly at the thought, so tantalizing yet so repulsive. He hates it, and loves it, in near equal measures- but he loves Frodo far more. “Which does mean we'll have to face the goblins again at the very least.”

It seems to jar the table, going back to the topic of travesty dealt across all of Middle-Earth and not just within their own Company.

“Can't you just leave it?” Kili looks to Gandalf. “Sauron can't conquer Middle-Earth without it, can he?”

“I would doubt it…” Gandalf looks skeptically at Bilbo. “But I think our hobbit has more to share.”

“Well, he did have help.” Bilbo scowls. “Saruman. Don't trust him, Gandalf. If I ever see himself I'll-” Bilbo puffs out a breath, so teeming with rage at the thought of the wicked wizard, of being face-to-face with someone so remorseless in their evil-!

“Saruman wouldn't aid Sauron,” Gandalf whispers, quickly and with no small amount of panic. “Not without a terrible plague on his mind!”

“Plague on his-! He made armies of tens of thousands and sent them to slaughter kingdoms! He sent out goblin-orc hybrids to capture my nephew! He tried to kill you and the rest of Frodo's Fellowship in an avalanche! Plague, ha! A common cold might be enough to turn him.”

“These are not accusations you can make lightly, Bilbo Baggins!”

“Gimli told me the same!” Gloin slams his fist onto the table. “He witnessed it! Fought in Helm's Deep alongside the king of Rohan, king of Gondor, even the elf! They all said the same!”

Gandalf looks near ill. “These are grave, grave tidings. How do we know you fourteen haven't been sent back by the very power your descendants sought to destroy? Only one power in this world has been known to raise the dead.”

“I have no intentions of aiding this filth,” Thorin spits. “If Sauron sent us back for some dark purpose, he’ll barely live to regret his decision.” He turns to Bilbo. “The Ring, what had it done to you? The old tales say it had a will of it's own.”

“It did worse to Frodo. But it did… have a hold, on me. From the moment I picked it up, it held enough sway to make me hide it from you all. I won't be able to take it to Mordor alone, I-I fear it would claim me more easily than it did Frodo.”

“I would go with you.” Thorin presses his forehead to Bilbo’s. “We all would, I'm sure of it.”

Resounding agreements fill the smial. All but Gandalf, who still looks so shaken by such news that he hardly seems to be focusing on the party in front of him.

“But after Erebor,” Bilbo says firmly once it quiets down. “The Battle thinned out Sauron's armies, it'll be an easier journey. Possibly. And-and with Smaug dead, Sauron will have a major blow to his plans, because they're in league, Smaug told me so the last time around. I didn't understand it at the time but, they are.”

“And what of my part in this?” Gandalf's voice is somber. “What path must I take?”

“Let me remember- you only told me this once in Valinor, and I was very old. … I believe you went to Dol Guldur, after a meeting with the White Council in Rivendell and after taking us to Mirkwood. I think- and I hope my memory is right- you said you were saved by Lady Galadriel.”

“Who my Gimli also charmed,” Gloin couldn't help but add. “She gave him three of her hairs! He asked for one, and she gave him three! Silver-tongued like no other. We should put him on your Council, Thorin.”

“In due time, Gloin. Bilbo, The Ring-”

“Will probably get a strong hold of me again. Even knowing what it was, I-I never, truly, rid myself of it's influence, neither did Frodo. Even now, I feel empty without it. But it has to be done, Thorin. I just ask you all watch me, and make sure I don't… don't make off with it.”

“It's a promise.” Thorin whispers the words almost reverently.

“... Are you two going to be together this time, then?” Dwalin asks suddenly, with all the subtlety of his usual endeavors. Bilbo’s mouth drops open and he looks at Thorin, who-

Well, who shares none of the shock, actually. Instead he has a soft smile. Bilbo’s mouth snaps shut, though his eyes remain wide, and he gives a quick nod. Thorin gives him a much less quick, reverently lingering kiss on the forehead, and coins are tossed about the table- an old, old bet, that had never seen a true conclusion, now finally fulfilled. Gandalf rubs his forehead. “One more surprise from this party and I shall go through the entire Shire’s worth of Old Toby before our journey even begins.”

#the hobbit #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin's company #the company of thorin oakenshield

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critter-genfic-events · 1 year ago

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This week, we have nine (nein!) fics dedicated to the beginning stages of friendship. Check them out after the cut, and don't forget to kudos or comment if you liked them!

Unnecessary by chockfullofsecrets (2339, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Yussa Errenis & Allura Vysoren

How Allura befriended Yussa

Reccer says: It features a touch-starved lonely Yussa and a slightly-more-well-adjusted but still a little clueless Allura (and her wife, who can explain things to her).

The Glow and Shine of Rotten Wood by sociallychallengednerd (1664, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Essek&Nott

Au where Essek ends up in that jail cell with Nott the Brave instead of Caleb, and the bond forged there.

Reccer says: I just really love the idea of what their relationship would be like if Nott had adopted Essek like that. There's something about imagining a goblin and a drow running around the empire in disguise that just tugs my heart strings.

Light & Shadow by quinn_of_aebradore (2141, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Reanminere "Reani" & Essek Thelyss

Essek teams up with Reani to fight crime

Reccer says: I loved the idea of this teamup since it was hinted at in the C2 finale, and this one really nails Reani's voice

What to Make of Me When I'm Gone by Angel Ascending (1949, General) Warnings: Casual discussion of death Pairings:

The Hells have morbidly adorable bonding session about what they should do with each other's corpses.

Reccer says: This fic perfectly encapsulates the early bonding vibe of a party, especially one as weird as the Hells and could easily slot into canon.

and each falling star changed the song of the sky by grayintogreen (5967, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Background Percy/Vex

A chance encounter changes fates. It's never too late to adopt an adventuring party, after all. (Or Percy and Vex adopt the Tombtakers.)

Reccer says: I liked it

disruption and development by ivelostmyspectacles (4062, Teen) Warnings: gender dysphoria around menstruation Pairings: Ashton Greymoore & Orym

Ashton runs off from the group in the middle of Bassuras, Orym follows, and does his best to help

Reccer says: The characterization for both of them is spot on - Ashton running off without expecting anyone to care or follow, Orym doing his best to protect and help

both my broken hands are true by quothhh (1805,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Veth Brenatto & Caleb Widogast

An AU where Veth is running an apothecary; and Bren breaks in one night to rob her

Reccer says: It's spot on characterization in an AU, and I love the aggressive Veth's caretaking is.

we're like a song that ends in major key by friendly_ficus (2920, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Yussa Errenis & The Mighty Nein, Yussa Errenis & Allura Vysoren

The Mighty Nein adopts another prickly wizard.

Reccer says: Yussa is the best wet cat wizard, and I love the little glimpses into Yussa's thought processes and relationship with Allura.

mask of many faces by SongOfWizardry (1638, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Dairon & Essek Thelyss, Beauregard Lionett & Essek Thelyss

Long after the Xhorhaus, a (disguised) Essek runs into an (undisguised) Expositor Dairon.

Reccer says: Extremely early on in their friendship, but you can imagine them becoming closer after the fic. I love the way that both of them understand what's going on, even if they're careful enough to not say anything explicit

If you liked this rec list, follow along for more! We'll be posting a new list with a new theme each Monday. Want to make your own recs? Check out the rules, and then use the form to submit!

Next week, we'll be reccing fic featuring Molly, Kingsley, or Lucien! Or all three! They're popular in fandom, I hear, so I think there will be some good stuff.

If you're looking for some more, there's some good stuff in the critter genfic bingo tag! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

#Critical Role #Fic Recs #CR Fic recs #Essek Thelyss #yussa errenis #caleb widogast #veth brenatto #Reani CriticalRole #Dairon Criticalrole #Bells Hells #orym of the air ashari #ashton greymoore #allura vysoren #Percy De Rolo #vexhalia #The Tombtakers

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deathbyvalentine · 2 months ago

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Goblin Ball Inspired Poems

Swords

We do not shine; we are not new. We aged in the forgotten earth in tombs or nothing at all Verdigris creeping up our sharp spines but we can still cut. Amputee. Maim.

Do not think our age makes us infirm. Time only makes us wiser Only beds us in to where we stand. We will not be readily parried. Not without blood.

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Staves

We existed before our craft Growing up from the ground Reaching to the sky. Then we were shaped With knife and chisel and hand Shaped into tools of progress and we went to work.

Each of us a little god Who plays a part in creation. Leaning on us for support, We change change shape Lose parts of ourselves To be whatever you need us To be. ________________________________________________________________

Pentacles

You know us best by our sound The clinking, the slide of metal on metal Do not let us slip through your fingertips Do not let us clatter to the ground We should not be sullied.

We should be polished until we gleam Live in pockets of silk, velvet, finest cotton or in towering vaults, with thousands of our brethren drowning in our reflecting light.

Don’t mistake us for salvation. We are only worth what you promise. ________________________________________________________________

Cups

We aren’t there to hold you just to hold your tears. Pour yourself into me, we will give nothing back. We hold salt and fresh water just the same.

When we shatter we burst into cutting colour. You cannot pick up our pieces We stay broken.

Stay broken with us. Learn that beauty lies Between the cracks.

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Spring

Sit with me, knees touching, cross legged. Be here with me. Drive this knife into your heart I will bleed. Love as you love Hurt as you hurt I grow in your shadow.

We beings are not made to be alone. I will grow so close to you, I share your skin. We can blossom together, petal upon petal upon petal.

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Summer

I see everything Rule over all There is nothing that exists here that I do not touch. Even the envious moon glows only because of me.

I live for the long months Where the fields themselves bleach yellow Where storms thunder and grow Where partners part, too sticky to hold each other.

I suit arguments best, Dark clouds and mixed drinks. I shine even when you don’t deserve me.

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Autumn

We are a season of sunsets, An entire court where everything is always ending but never ended.

Take a walk through the fields Sickle held low, Lonely scarecrow observing with a corvid’s grace.

Come sit with us at the table What did you bring or reap or sow? What are you carrying with you, Now the sun is low and it’s time to eat?

A fox's russet holds the room in We are carpeted by leaves When the sun hits the bower We blaze like flames and We are on fire.

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Winter

On Tuesday, we invited the wolf inside to eat. It had hungry eyes and a thrashing tail Searching us for arrows and horses Things that pierce and chase and frighten

We had none. We had plates and bowls and cups All of which it ignored. It was not civilised. It did not thank us It licked the plate clean and cracked the mug Left claw marks on the tablecloth. We watched from the doorway. It was our guest it would not be polite to tell it how to eat.

It left past midnight Running silently in to the snow Heading towards the phantom mountains Standing as passive custodians, unwilling to move We watched it disappear Growing smaller until it became one with the black trees.

That night, all I could dream of was howling.

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Day

Blink. Blink. Pay no attention to the momentary dark. It will be nothing compared to the eternal light of knowing. Blink. Blink. Did you ever wonder how the sun purifies? It chases away shadows. Scrubs away the hidden. Blink. Ignore the burning. Ignore the ache. Ignore all that is not shining and holy. You will never seen another sun. This one you have is all you have. Upon strange worlds, the light falls differently. Who can say if it’s softer? Kinder? Kindness is rarely clean. Blink. Blink. Stop. Keep them open. You never know what you might see. ________________________________________________________________

Night

We are not ourselves when we are waking. We walk together in dreams. On a silver path all bedecked with ringing bells. Ascension and descension both. Every star a beacon. Every lantern a star. Why can’t you find your way home? Perhaps it wasn’t your home to begin with. Build a new one, gossamer and silk Wishes and regrets, Don’t tell me you don’t dream for a better life. Don’t tell me where your nightmares live. Lay down here, waxing and waning Sing yourself to sleep. We are all waiting for you.

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Water

You can only cross a river once Walk a street once Step on a sea of grass Nothing is static Nothing stays the same We flow and move We change, we alter ourselves With every conversation, every kiss Every step forward in time We cannot go back Not to the way things were The way we were We drown the past Under the weight of the present.

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Wind

I go anywhere that suits me. (Nowhere suits me.) I’m always going nowhere. What do I love? Or should that be -- what should I love? I’m never happy unless I’m giving something away. I can’t stand holding on I burn my palms To grasp is to lose. To want is to burden. I feel the present at me Trying to grasp me tight. I twist and I am gone. Like a nightmare (Like a dream.)

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Earth

Hibernate. Make yourself small in the loving earth. She will not let you fall. Look at how she embraces you tight.

Whoever taught you there was shaming in resting? Whoever made you think a retreat was a defeat? Gather yourself. Sleep. Rest. Be in your body. Know I am your body too. There is no ending but death And even your bones will rest easy here too.

Bury yourself, for you are treasure. You may be uncovered You may lie undiscovered Wake when you wake Leave history to the diggers You belong to the earth.

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Stone

They say opals are unlucky. A story said so. The luck lies in the earth. It doesn’t seep. It hardens. Forms a crust. It glitters even as it shuts the world out. Catches light only to throw it right back.

Look at what is carved. Look at stone protecting the dead against the sin of being forgotten. Look upon the mausoleums, tombstones, angels watching over mossy grass hiding the bones. The dead are defenceless without us.

So in the soil there’s stone, crystal, jewels. There’s rot, death, that which is hidden. We are one and protect the other. We’re unlucky. A story said so.

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Fire

Quick, flash, bang, move Never let a candle gutter Never let a wick cool Never stop tending, touching, transforming Fuel to heat, light, smoke, Never one thing for too long Never still.

More than a match. More than a candle. More than a fireplace.

Have you ever seen a fire eat a house? Cram its greedy mouth full of roof timber, Photographs, toys, chairs? It’s always hungry. The last thing it wants to do is go out.

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Metal

Grind

You need more than metal to love metal. The slip of oil. The sparks of flint.

Know that the machine is a creature. Know it has blood of mercury. Know it could swallow you whole, Take fingers, a hand, a leg.

It is never tame. Only contained. Soothe it. Keep the clogs clicking contentedly. Feed it iron chips and endless tools. What you give it Keeps it alive.

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Thorn

Make a gate of thorns. Make a wall of vines. Make a carpet of brambles Where no trespassers may tread.

Set a guard. Set a lock. Set a challenge. None may pass, none unclean.

Keep silent. Keep steady. Keep sharp. Who knows what waits outside your door.

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Oak

Summer’s coming. I am waking up. I can feel it in my planted feet. Soon there will be stories. Soon there will be songs. Soon I will rise from last years grave.

Shake the soil from my antlers. Shake the leaves from my hands. The resting keeps me strong. The waking makes me alive.

Come bards, poets, singers and all. Come and sit at my feet. Show me the wonders that I have missed.

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Willow

Waiting for the war to be over, You trail your fingers in the blue blue water. Spring has been here for too long, The grass cannot get any greener. You sigh yourself away.

If she were a knight, You were her lady. You know how this story ends. All the best poetry is a tragedy.

But still, you look for the white horse on the horizon. You look for the snap of a banner, The sun finally setting.

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Ash

Nine days is the custom. Nine days to hang by the neck. Nine days of the wind against your skin, the rain coming (if it comes), the sun beating down.

You’ve got to give nine things away.

Count your names. Count the knots. Count whatever coins you have in your pocket, and if you just have the one, just be glad you’ve got it. Count the years. Count the stars. Count the teeth in your skull and scars on your skin. Count your heartbeats. Count your blessings.

When you open your wind scorched eyes The gift is not your life, (Broken and precious it may be) But the whole wide world.

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Dusk

It could pool around your feet, creep up your ankles. Soak up through the fabric until your skirts are weighed heavy with the blood of a sunset.

Maybe then you could wring it with your hands, Stain your fingers red, orange, bruise-like purple, The sky painted upon you like ink.

When the dark comes (and the dark always comes) You will remember the last of the light.

You will remember how it bled and bled to let you see the stars.

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Dawn

Chase away the shadows! Morning is coming in! Ring the bells, Release the animals, Open all of the windows - Breathe it all in, Another day waking. Another day alive. And you, brilliant star-stuff, Made it through the blackest night. Tonight, you will commit the same miracle. Each morning, an unspoken prayer answered.

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Storms

The breaking of a mother’s voice. The snap of a bond.

The ozone gathers.

The politician at the podium. The crowd at the door. The screamer on stage. Among all this, the single crack of lightning.

Who cares about who wins Who care about the losses This is about the music of tumult The moment you realise Tomorrow isn’t promised.

Go, Stand outside in the rain, Among the bricks flying from the tower. If the dawn comes, Who knows who you’ll be. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snow

The moment before, The thundering snow quickens, The air is all light.

The mountain standing The breath freezing in the lungs The cold unmoving.

If we do die here, Our dear frozen hearts remain, A monument, still.

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Lightning

A flash of light illuminates - but not for long.

A shock of electricity hurts - but it’ll pass.

An idea comes to you - gotta scrawl it down.

Genius never stays for long before it hop skips and jumps away.

Better move fast. Better move smart Better zig before you zag Better snap before you pop Better move faster than the next guy Before the bottled lightning fades.

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Smoke

Did you hear? Did you know? Who told you?

It takes a lot To walk through the smokescreen And leave With no ash upon your feet.

Did you see? Did she tell you? How did you find out?

It takes a lot To walk across burning coals And finish With no burns upon your soul.

Can you tell? Can you find out? How did he take it?

It takes a little To set a blazing fire With nothing more flammable Than your mouth

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Magma

If fire is the rebirth We are the growing up. If earth is the beginning We are the end.

We leave nothing behind. We are not faultless guests. We will leave you empty and wanting.

We do not act all at once. We do not act in a rush. Slowly, we take. Slowly, we win.

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Clay

Work your will. Leave your mark. Through heat we will shine. Through hardship we shall endure.

Magic can be captured Held close, like a secret. Not instant, not a snap of the fingers, But worked into the clay, Kneaded in with love and sweat. A hundred years from now What will they find in your grave?

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Marketers

Come buy, come buy! The cunning voices cry

And what wares, Laid out, shining like pearls, The bright fruits, The flowing fabric, Pretty flowers for a lady’s hair, Jewels for a gentleman’s cuffs, All held out with grasping hands Looking for coins in the palms of all.

The stalls jostle each other, Pressing forward with their hawkers, Copper eyes glinting,

Further back, Hidden from view, Different deals are made, Contracts of paper, contracts of gold, Ink seeping into a mind like a river, You better come good, son. You better find your crown. When you make a deal with the goblins There is no going back. ________________________________________________________________

The Motley Crew

Who am I? Am I who I am at my worst Or at my best? When I am left Or when I am right?

A name could never find me. A home could never chase me. I find myself in a hundred places Take what I can bear Leave the rest behind.

A patchwork person Made from all the people I never wanted to be And all the people I never managed to love.

If I am cursed, Who took my blessing?

________________________________________________________________

Wild Cards

The Scheming Doctor The Devoted Lover The Braggart Captain The Capering Fool -

A shadow theatre Performing beside a spotlight Swapping masks while the audience claps Taking a bow at the beginning of the play Ready for the music that will pour forth From other people’s speeches.

Who wrote our footsteps? On what sacred boards do we tread? A dazzling dance, a story like no other Only the masks remembered. Only the masks remain.

#poems #the goblin ball #i finally finished this project!#larp

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zheniakirsikkalove · 9 months ago

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Goblin: The Lonely Shining God (2016)

Gong Yoo / Goblin / Kim Shin

Lee Dong Wook / Grim Reaper / Wang Yeo

source

#Lee Dong Wook #Lee Dong Wook 2016 #이동욱 #Grim Reaper #Wang Yeo #Goblin #Dokkaebi #Gong Yoo #공유 #Kim Shin #Gong Ji-cheol #lee dongwook

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shattered-realm-twisted-reality · 8 months ago

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PART TWO: Thoxa’s Voice

(This is the beginning of Thoxa's tale, her links with the wider world of SRTR, and the beginning of a great adventure for a small wanna-be idol! Please forgive any spelling/grammar issues, I'm not the best editor!) From an early age there had always been a rumor, a passed down story that was still believed within the little community in the Crystal Caverns. Everyone had some sort of taint from the Crystals all around them. The goblins had adapted best of all being the first of the cave dwellers. They knew the magic in the shining walls. Crystal Goblins as they were now called, had been the first because of their mysterious ancestor bringing her family here and raising them within the caverns and their wealth of resources and safety within the large network of cave systems, spread worldwide.

“Fae folk created the caverns,” Graying sparkling goblin grandmas would whisper by the hearth at night. “There was a great war among them, as humanity began to crawl out of its cradle. They created a twin world, a shining realm—but their conflict shattered it. It’s said the magic collapsed into the Earth, spreading like a virus through the Underground.” Wide eyed listeners would admire the formations all around them, the gently glowing cyan and pink and every color in between. Pulsing with life, with ancient power that worked in unpredictable ways. Another rumor about these mysterious Fae was far more substantial when those who explored outside the caves came back with tales about a mysterious forest at the base of the mountain. It was a beautiful and confusing place, and no matter what the weather was, the closer they got to it the warmer and more spring-like it became, and the sun would seem to set. This was enough to deter most: they needed to get home before dark. If they ventured on, they’d begin to find structures that seemed to be made of crystals: great cracked pillars shining stories high, or crumbling walls and roads. Eventually though, before they could explore further, the outsiders would feel dizzy and then return to their original path, the forest now behind them.

“It has to be Fae folk, still out there. No other kin or kind can do such tricks.” The elders of the caves would say among one another, shaking their heads. “Best to steer clear, it’s more than we can understand.”

These rumors are the mysteries of the Underground, the world Thoxa has always known. Born to simple farming folk in the Southern Reaches of the Caverns, she was eagerly independent from a young age, knowing that someday the tunnels could lead her to new and exciting places, much like that ancient ancestor learned. The rumors of fae, of the magic, of course always fascinated her–she loved the glittering power of the crystals, how they took her over from a young age, growing from her smooth skin, little glowing gems. Even her stretch marks seemed to show she was a glowing crystal herself, cracking over her glowing skin like a geode. “Built-In Glam!” She’d call it, also obsessed with any little trinket about pop stars, idols, as well as fashion and music of all kinds. She began to learn the tunnels around her home well, making friends and exploring the Above, usually little suburban neighborhood dumps where she could find discarded CD’s and tapes, ripped clothes and out of style magazines. Her glowing skin and eyes made these trips work best at night, when they aided her in searching for her treasures. She’d make herself little shows in abandoned small caves, bending over tees to bedazzle them and lip syncing to decades old Britney. When she reached maturity, these girlish fantasies never seemed to die along with the rest of her childhood dreams. Eventually Thoxa was on her own, packing her things and setting off to live further into the mountains, finding some friendly locals to share a home with for protection’s sake, and because well–life is lonely in the Underground without some cavemates.

It was this same mountain that those who explored Above said the Fae Forest was. When she heard that, she became excited–glittering faeries were another childhood dream of sorts, but the forest alone sounded beautiful. Whole towers of crystal? She had to find out for herself. However she was used to striking out at night, so plotted her journey and set out after dusk, her eyes keen on the dark trail. “This way,” She muttered, studying a little hand-drawn map she’d made, based on all that she had researched. Despite the young goblin woman’s silly demeanor, she was rather mature and clever, planning ahead for weeks before setting out. She’d even made sure the weather would be nice, but not too warm. She had to feel the Springtime for herself.

The cave entrance was near the base of the mountain, so thankfully finding her way down the narrow path wasn’t too difficult. Even if some of the steeper drops made her nervous, feet always a bit clumsy. Once at the bottom, she looked around…it was a little hilly landscape, dotted with stands of pine and oak here and there, but not exactly a forest. A landmark–she’d been told that they turned when they reached a big bounder, fallen from the mountain. Which direction, and where the boulder might be, she didn’t know. Gathering a courageous little inhale, she set her repaired hiking boots in the direction of the pines, figuring some trees meant more trees, and the boulder had to roll down straight-ish from the rocky hillside. It felt like hours, going through the nighttime world, on edge to be Above in a still unfamiliar territory.

This wasn’t the quiet Above back home, it was wilderness all around with owls and bats sweeping overhead for their supper, and the slow start of spring frogs chirping from the nearby creek. She saw this world in shades of gray and black, the moon hidden away behind the clouds, but the cave dweller still pressed on, able to clearly see her path and avoid tripping over tree roots. At last a boulder, covered over with moss, called from the right hand side, a big mound in the dark. Rushing over, she put her hand on it with a little laugh, smacking the ancient granite. “HA! Found ya. Now…what next.” She looked around at the trees, closed her eyes, tried to feel the air, get a hint somehow. It was possible she’d find nothing—that the researched stories from old borrowed books and talking with the locals were all too old and the information a true fairy tale now.

Why then did her heart race so much? She was nervous, even fearful of this unfamiliar dark. Biting her lip, she pulled out a cheap set of earbuds, attached to a long outdated Ipod. Music to steady the nerves, but one earbud out and dangling as she made her way towards the old oaks. “B-baby can’t you see, I’m callin’…” She sang nervously under her breath, clutching the map in one hand, her device in the other.

Her feet found a rhythm, a dance, and she began to move forward through the trees, hopeful as they thickened. The music helped, chasing away any spooky vibes with bubblegum stained optimism. She tucked her Ipod into her jacket pocket, shoving the arm up and holding it out as she paused. It was–a little warmer. “Ha, getting’ warmer,” She laughed to herself, and then nearly tripped. Stumbling, she turned to see what had caught her toe–only to gasp at the sight of the biggest single white crystal she’d ever seen, poking casually out of the ground, cracked a little on one side. “Woah.” She crouched, eyes wide as a hand stroked it. “So pretty.” It was still dark, so it glowed like her, but maybe brighter–warmer. It felt warm too, like sunshine had been beating down on it recently. She rose and kept going forward, determined. “I won’t let you turn me away,” She called out in a sing-song. “I know what you wanna do–” She reached into her backpack, taking out a little roll of pink ribbon and a pocket knife. “But I won’t let you confuse me.” She tied a bow around a low branch, and then kept moving. Every few trees, another bow to track her way. If she saw them again ahead, she knew she was being twisted.

However she wasn’t expecting her next find. A great stone and crystal gate–no it was ALL made of the same white quartz, shining and cracked around the edges. Her breath caught and she stopped still, hands tensing at her sides, still carrying the ribbon and map.

“No way…” She reached out, feeling something strange. A sensation that flooded her own emotions, making her fearful of the gate, doubtful of herself. Her hand hesitated before touching it, but when she did it was even warmer. Looking past it, she could see the trees closing in all around, dense and lush, different than before. The air even smelled different, fresher, the hint of nearby running water on the wind. Yet her body seemed to stay still in place, refusing to carry her through the gate. She didn’t have to go through it, she could have gone around—

She smiled to herself. “But that’s not the way we do things, right?” She took another deep breath again and took out her earbuds, tucked the ipod and ribbon into her bag again. All the stories, all the magic simmering in the background of her own existence–here it felt REAL. Like it was undeniable that this gate was purposeful, a trick, a challenge. So she forced her foot forward, with a grunt, then another. “I’m stubborn,” She huffed in defiement. “And too curious. I gotta know why we glow–I gotta know—” She didn’t make sense, she was standing inside the archway now and feeling a wave of dizziness. “It’s a trick,” She huffed, and pushed through. It felt like something sort of gave way, and from one second she was in the chilly forest and the next–someplace entirely. Someplace both beautiful and ruined.

Dusk had settled in, forever. The trees spaced now elegantly and healthy on either side, a cracked and meandering white path dotting through the lush grass under her feet. It was spring, balmy and delightful but not hot. The air smelled like sweet blooms, the sound of a nearby spring burbling away. As she walked, she noticed more cracked crystal, walls, pillars, doorways. Huge shards stuck out here and there, bursting from the soft earth and glowing like sunrise.

“Oh my what a sight.” A little voice chimed out of the tree above, a little blooming maple. Twisting, Thoxa found herself face to face with a little pixie. Dark round eyes shining down from the flowery branches, gossamer lavender and silver hair flowing down around her nude humanoid body, her arms like bird wings with blue and silver opal feathers, her legs feathery and clawed to match.

“I-I could say ditto.” Thoxa finally found her voice, unable to help the uneasy laughter as the little pixie fluttered down, perching on a closer branch as the goblin stepped forward. “What is this place?”

“A place where even the most glittery little goblin should not tread!” Pixie giggled, the sound shrill. “You remind me of a story though. Of a little goblin and a big dragon who live in caves in the mountain. She was shiny too, all ate up by the Glowing.”

“G-glowing, a dragon?!” Thoxa looked around–was this the only faerie here? She was told the Fae all disappeared eons before they knew about them. “H-how…”

“Oh I’ve been here a long time, but this place is frozen in time since—” The Pixie squinted. “Shouldn’t the Veil have turned you back though?”

“I’m guessing that’s the weirdness I felt going through that,” She hooked her thumb at the white archway many yards behind her. The Pixie giggled.

“Oh you are a little fool! Or brave. Or blessed! Who knows. The magic here is wild, returned to Gaia with very few orders in place.”

“I don’t–” Thoxa tried to keep up, not really understanding what the Pixie meant as she suddenly jumped to her feet, fluttering up in front of the goblin’s face.

“Keep going, explore. You might as well—you may never go back to where you came from now!” She giggled as Thoxa’s heart sank with fear, those panicked eyes wide as Pixie whizzed away into the treetops, leaving a little aura of glitter behind her. All around here, there seemed to stir some acknowledgement of her presence–she felt watched.

“I-I can just go back through, right…?” She said, turning—but the archway, the white gate, was gone. Nothing but more cracked towers leaning to one side, crumbling walls. All of it still shining and warm, some covered by moss and vines and wildflowers. A showing of time indeed passing, or simply nature struggling against the ruins. Thoxa moved forward, figuring the Pixie might have been helpful telling her to explore. Maybe something more lay ahead.

And something more did. Over a small hill, she was treated to the sight of an old building, the front walls destroyed entirely, the back and sides crumbling. It revealed the inside like a cracked open dollhouse of what looked to be a once grand room, with colorful stained glass motifs of graceful figures, shattered across their faces. The floor was made of wide tiles, leading up to a platform at the back, shredded tapestries hanging behind what remained of a throne. A creek had dug a path through the room, burbling clean water among the pale soft ruins, moss and grass taking over between the cracks.

As Thoxa drew near, all seemed to grow still and hushed. Her old boots shuffled across the stone, and she felt like she was in a fancy cathedral she had seen in movies, the hole in the ceiling of the place showing the lavender starry sky above. Always dusk. The tapestry shuffled without wind and Thoxa froze in place. “H-hello? I-I’m sorry to have come here–like this,” She began, speaking with uncertainty but compelled to talk to the mysterious chamber around her. “”I’ve always wanted to know–about the magic you know? The crystals have always been around me—they’re inside me.” She touched one stone on her face. “A-and I always thought–the stories of the F-fae were connected, truly. I believed.”

“We are all connected by a greater power,” A smooth delicate voice, not the shrill cry of the Pixie, answered her from behind the throne. A young human-like woman stepped out, as if the air simply breathed her into existence. She was of course taller than the goblin, but still small and willowy, her body clothed in a shift of pearly silk and her hair a shining pale opal–white, then pink, then blue, shifting colors in the dying light of the sun. Her skin even seemed the same, shimmering in a way even the Crystal Goblin’s couldn’t. Her eyes were strange, almost like opals too with no pupil at all. Yet clearly she wasn’t blind as she floated down to Thoxa, tilting her head and smiling a little as Thoxa stepped back. Her movements were unsettling as was her gaze.

“A long time ago, our kind, the Fae as you call them, had a great disaster. I am all that remains of my kingdom now, awakened only briefly in this place…trapped here as an Oracle for the other Courts.” She spoke with a whispering voice Thoxa leaned in close to hear, feeling her body tremble in the presence of this creature. A real Fae, talking to HER.

“I remember little of what caused it–but the violence of the disaster was so great, it cracked the Great Veil, sending Gaia into the Earth weeping–and so her soul, shattered, spread. Into the Underground.” A thin pale hand reached for Thoxa’s own, touching the blue crystal growing there. “It has left its mark so much more than shining rocks. Her magic is unpredictable, Her Will unknowable by even me, one so close to her grave.”

Thoxa felt like sobbing. The woman’s voice was smooth, unfaltering, but the words a melody of sadness, a song of a great tragedy she’d never understand. Kneeling, she shook her head and wiped her teary eyes.

“I-I’m sorry it’s just…” Maybe it was that single touch, a spark from the source. It compelled her to feel what this woman felt, in the realest sense of the word. Like she was sharing her emotions without knowing. The opal woman smiled serenely all the while, watching the goblin try to collect herself. “I also know of Gaia’s influence on one like you, saving you–and now look. You shine from within with the Goddess’ own power, in those shining marks. You knew it all along–you must share something of your ancestor, who was saved.”

“S-saved?” Thoxa blinked, looking up and finally rising. “Oh yes. I remember dreaming of her stirring, of how she felt connected to a goblin on the brink of her own death, a real death, caused by her own outpouring of Mana in the Underground. She reached out and pulled her back, leaving her with the touch of the Goddess. Who knows what might have happened since but clearly it’s had a lasting influence.” The woman paused, seeming to realize something as Thoxa turned over what it meant. What had that first goblin gone through, to nearly die and be saved by a Fae Goddess?! “You have a voice inclined to song,” She muttered thoughtfully after a moment. “It will manifest, if you let it. This Goddess power, this gift through the centuries. Perhaps you are that same soul reborn now for a new purpose.” She shrugged, smiling. “I am an Oracle, even if I feel like a caged one.” “My voice, a gift?” Thoxa chuckled, flushing deep teal at the thought. “Mnn, maybe. I do like to sing. The acoustics in the caverns can be great—” She paused though, frowning. “Why are you caged? Why not be free? Why stay here?” The woman’s emotions flooded her again, wistful and sad. “Many reasons for those many questions. I promise you, I bear it no ill will. It’s my duty now. And you should return—-” “W-wait how? The little…other fairy thing–said I won’t be able to…” “Because I will it. And the Goddess’ Will is in me. I am the Between. I can perform miracles beyond your knowing.” She didn’t say it pridefully, but almost sadly. A great power with great burdens. “Close your eyes.” Thoxa felt compelled to obey, but her heart raced and her mind was spinning like a washing machine with confusion.

The Oracle put her hands gently to Thoxa’s face, brushing those glowing stones. Thoxa gasped, opening her eyes. Suddenly she was in one of the beautiful pools of water in the Caverns, sinking deep, losing air. Reaching up, she felt it was all familiar. The water, the drowning…the way the insides of her, the crystals and the markings, seemed to burn. Blinking again, she was suddenly sitting, soaked and still in her clothes and gear, Alone, in the Caverns. Back home for sure, solid as she sat drenched and confused in the stone pool of clear blue water. “What the hell.” It was a simple statement, not a question, as she slowly stood, shaking off her shoes and climbing out of the pool. Making her way home through the tunnels, she studied the crystals on the walls, on her hands and arms. Every little flickering glow was now a pulse, a connection. To the past, to the Oracle, to the Crystals. She knew her Voice was blessed now, and her connection, while mysterious, was real. Now she had to harness it, use it—her idol dreams were calling.

#lore #worldbuilding #writing #shattered realms twisted reality #goblin #thoxa lore #vtuber lore #original writing

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mywildestdreams95 · 4 months ago

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Corrupting the Paladin, Chapter 1

Well then, isn't this a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into...

The paladin thought to himself as he looked up at his wrists, bound with a rather uncomfortable, and scratchy rope and chained to the ceiling with a nasty looking chain. He took in his surroundings again and, not surprisingly, nothing had changed. He was still in the same dank cell he had been in for the past three days. He wasn't given a bed or a pot to piss in. There wasn't even a window in his cramped cell.

Flickering light would sometimes shine through cracks in the heavy cell door, that was his only source of light. The goblins who captured him hoped that a few days chained to the ceiling would break him and force him to tell them of his mission.

The paladin laughed out loud, his laughter echoing off the halls.

I am a knight of The White Hammer! It will take so much more than some minor discomfort and hunger to break me.

"I will not break!" he shouted, his proud words swallowed by the dungeon. Again, his voice echoed off the empty stone walls. How much longer could they...

What was that?

It sounded like...yes...yes those are footsteps! Were the goblins finally coming down to torture him? It was about time, he was sick of waiting.

But, no. No, those aren't goblin footsteps. Goblins sounded like cockroaches scurrying across the floor. But this sounded like a single pair of boots. Yes, just one person wearing what sounded like boots with a substantial heel.

No matter. Goblin, orc, wizard, no matter what, he was ready for whatever was about to come through that door. He closed his eyes and began a silent prayer of protection.

Keys slid into the lock and he heard the metal *click* as the lock was engaged. Rusted iron hinges screamed in protest as the door slowly swung open.

His eyes still closed, the paladin started to grin, knowing that no matter who had come to visit, he would be ready. Time to make his escape. Once the being got closer, he could headbutt them in the face, hopefully break their nose and then...

Oh...oh gods...

He was ready for everything, every possible creature, but he wasn't prepared for...her.

She let the door hit the wall as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"What's wrong holy one, expecting someone a bit shorter and more green?" She said as a smile danced across her crimson lips.

He caught himself before his eyes continued to drink in every curve of her body.

"What manner of creature are you?" He asked. Forcing himself to meet her eyes. Her...violet eyes.

"Creature?!" Her laugh was musical. He instantly loved it. He would do anything just to hear her laugh again.

No! No snap out of it! You're obviously being put under some sort of enchantment. This isn't good. This definitely is NOT good!

"Come now my dear, dear paladin...surely you've seen a woman before!" Her boots clicked against the stone floor as she lifted herself from the door frame and walked towards him. "I imagine it gets lonely in that monastery, surrounded by dusty old books..." She stopped inches from him.

Lilac...she smells of lilac. He couldn't help but breathe in her scent. He felt his muscles relax, his eyelids grow heavy, and he felt a stirring inside him. Deep in his core he felt a yearning, an ache that he hadn't felt in years. A hunger that he had been able to deny up to this point.

"Stop..." he whispered.

"Stop what?" she whispered back, placing her delicate hand on his chest. They had stripped him of his armor when he was captured. So there he stood, in a loose white shirt and trousers. She ran her fingers through his dark chest hair and his breath caught in his throat.

"S-St-Stop....touching.......me...." he was breathing heavily, his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. Something was wrong, he wasn't this weak! Women had tried to get their hands on him before and he had always been able to deflect any advances. Why was she different? Why was he so weak??

"Aww. But I love a hairy man." She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him with those scorching violet eyes. "especially when I can run my fingers through their chest hair...like this..."

She reached her hand out and grabbed a fistful of chest hair. He couldn't help it and let a small moan escape his lips. He immediately looked down and the succubus was standing there, smiling at him, biting her bottom lip.

To Be Continued...

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rawrsatthetree · 1 year ago

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Wanted to write down some stuff about my first Durge

Ilona (they/them), Dark Urge

Race: human? Probably human

Age: 26 although they don't remember this. Their companions assume they're the youngest at camp, a combo of their chubby baby face and behaving immaturely.

Class: Oathbreaker Paladin

Personality: Orin did a real number on them. Friendly, cheerful, and sweet if you can look past the horrors. Very high charisma just as you’d expect from a cult leader. Painfully lonely making them rather clingy to those they’re close to. They’re naive and easily manipulated by attention and validation. They have a bit of a temper and are often very stubborn.

Romance: Astarion. They’re partners in crime, twin flames, they see each other and they’re healing together. At first they were just an easy target for Astarion, desperate for his attention and easily swayed by his approval. They’re not sure why they were so drawn to him but something about him felt so familiar and comforting, to them it was love at sight. They win him over with their friendship and unrelenting trust in him. They not only protect him, but rely on him just as much. He knows they need him just as much as he needs them.

The Urge: At first it controls them completely, their mind a blank slate with nothing but the urge. However, slowly as they regain a sense of self through their journey and friends they begin to resist. In the past they’ve needed a lot of “guidance” from Fel, their urge used by Bhaal to punish and control them. They long to be free and refuse Bhaal in the end.

Some little facts: They’re a little chubby and very sensitive about it. They have a bit of a drinking problem. They have pretty bad anxiety from well everything. They never learned how to read. They adore children and animals. At one point they had a pet cat named Slaughter, Slaughter didn’t last long. They really love their family, especially Saravok. They’ve always wanted to learn necromancy. They’re the reason Balthazar is so protective of his chambers. It was their idea to recruit Goblins, Gnolls, and Orgers. They wear a silver locket with a small lock of black hair inside, they don't remember who's but looking at it makes them sad. Their nice camp clothes were a gift from Gortash, not that they remember.

Past: (tw: vague mention of sexual assault) They were only six when they killed their foster dads. After, they were kept confined in the temple with Fel and other worshipers always at their side, grooming them to be the perfect Bhaalspawn and one day lead the temple. They faced quite a bit of abuse at the hands of the temple. The brief moments of privacy they got they would use to sneak out of the temple. These were usually uneventful walks through the sewers and under city before they were tracked down and dragged back home.

Around when they were 15, on one of their little excursions, they came across an area they had never seen before, with strange golden bars and intricate stone work. There they met a devilishly handsome elf with piercing red eyes and long black hair, Cazador Szar. Cazador, having an interest in Bhaalspawn and keeping close tabs on everything in the city, knew exactly who they were. They were easily lured into his chamber with honeyed words and the promise of temporary escape from the temple.

To them, Cazador was everything: their friend, their mentor, and eventually their lover. He was their escape, a safe place to hide, and they loved him dearly. To Cazador, they were a shining prize to be won. He fully intended to make them his first spawn after his ascension and use them to claim control of the Bhaal’s cult - Bhaal’s army truly was an unsurpassable dowry after all.

He encouraged them to take their rightful place as Bhaal’s chosen and the leader of his temple. They wouldn’t need to fear Bhaal if they had his favor and the temple could no longer control them if they took charge.

With Bhaal's blessing, Cazador was the perfect match for his spawn. A ruthless powerful vampire lord that pushed his wayward spawn to follow his path. They would sire powerful immortal dhampire bhaalspawn to continue his plot should they fail and not see it complete in their short mortal life.

Ilona started thinking very seriously about the future of the temple and carrying out their purpose in life. After 14 years in the temple, it became apparent to them that this would be impossible with just the cult alone. They needed to seek allies and make a real plan. Cazador was happy to help them, after all any power they gained now would mean more power for him to take later. He was well acquainted with the city’s underground elite, hosting balls and other gatherings to ensure his position and power. It was one of his balls that Ilona first met Gortash.

News travels fast in the underworld and Gortash knew exactly who they were. The young leader of the Bhaal temple and the murder god’s chosen. They were unimpressed by him at first. He would have to earn their respect and friendship, only made harder by the vampire lord whispering in their ear. He managed this by appealing not to Ilona child of Bhaal but Ilona the young human. As their friendship grew, so did Enver’s feelings for them. He saw the real them, a rather silly and sweet but intelligent and determined individual. He also saw how their vampiric companion looked at them like a piece of meat, how he pulled their strings and bound them with sweet words. Enver tried to warn them, to show them Cazador’s abuse but it wouldn’t be so easy to convince them after five years of careful manipulation.

He eventually got in their head, convincing them if Cazador truly loved them, they should challenge him and disobey. He bet them that lord Szar would show his true colors at the first hint of disobedience. Stubborn as they were to believe Cazador loved them, they took Enver’s little wager.

They looked for the first opportunity to disobey him. It was as simple as denying him a kiss, a little test of their autonomy. One he punished in kind, showing his true nature and taking far more than their lips. At the time they were woefully out matched in strength. They begged for the urge to take over and save them, for their father to give them the strength to fight back but Bhaal was silent.

After taking what he wanted, Cazador locked them in a cell. Kenneling them like a dog, where he planned to keep them until after his ascension. He didn’t dare try and turn them without that power given Bhaal’s control over them. They cried and raged, scratching at the walls and hitting the bars until their hands bled. It was the sweet voice of one of Astarion’s victims that soothed them, caged near by and sympathetic to their plight. They wallowed in their misery for a week, until a few of their most loyal followers tracked them down and freed them.

Cazador didn’t dare try and take them back, not with their followers and the allies they had made with his help now protecting them. Gortash was quick to move in with the vampire out of the way, offering a shoulder to cry on and an evil plot to distract them from their broken heart.

They spent the next five years scheming and building the cult of the absolute as equal partners and friends. Enver had earned their trust and admiration. Slowly true feelings started to grow between them but were doomed to never be fully realized thanks to Orin’s betrayal. They spent the next year entombed and tortured under moonrise towers.

They would forget all of this. Only feeling the strangest sense of deja vu when leading Astarion through Cazador’s dungeon, navigating the halls with haunting familiarity much like they felt at Moonrise.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #baldurs gate 3 durge #dark urge #dark urge tav #durge #the dark urge #baldurs gate dark urge #dark urge oc #durge oc #baldurs gate tav #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #baldurs gate oc #my durge #my tav

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dabbles-in-drabbles · 7 months ago

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Forgiveness and Vengeance

Summary:

Andan knew her end would come, she had made peace with that. She knew exactly how she was going to die, and she knew it would not be at the hands of Mindflayers.

She was infected, survived the shipwreck, and defeated the goblins. All this with strangers watching her back, and a vampire watching her neck.

If she was to die, she knew she at least lived her life how she wanted to, even with all of the unexpected twists.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Tav: Andan, Oath of Vengeance Paladin

Chapter 8: Truths

Andan was awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of quiet shuffling. Blearily glancing around revealed Astarion was sitting up, arms bent in a way for his finger to trace the scars on his back. He was mumbling softly, making it so she could not hear him.

“Astarion..? Is everything alright?”

“Shit- yes, Dani, just fine.”

It took a few more seconds for Andan to wake up completely, to fully see what he was doing. Fingers desperately trying to trace the symbols.

“Astarion…”

He let loose a harsh sigh, whipping his head back with an annoyed look, “I’m fine.”

She raised a brow at him, “Do you need help?”

He turned away, going quiet for a few seconds. A great sigh released from him as he slumped over. He shot back up, sitting straight for a second before slowly hunching his shoulders in again.

“Yes… please.”

She got up on her knees, crawling over. She grabbed a spare sheet of parchment, a love letter printed on the front half of it that she loved to read from time to time. She turned it over to the blank side and set about sketching it out ever so carefully with a piece of charcoal.

Astarion was quiet, his ears flickering with every scratch on the parchment. He did not move until Andan moved to sit in front of him, parchment in hand. He glanced down, eyes widening as he took in the sketch.

“What… what is this?” “Definitely not a poem. It's infernal, though… Karlach may be able to translate-”

“- No. ”

Andan jumped, looking up at him. Momentarily he looked upset, then ever so briefly shocked. Astarion shut his eyes tight, lowering his chin to his chest.

“I don’t want anyone else to know… please, Andan.”

She gave a small nod, staying there with him in silence. Hesitantly, she placed her hand out with an open palm. A silent apology.

His head raised ever so slightly, looking at her open hand. He placed his hand in her own with little hesitation. His hand encased her own, squeezing.

Their eyes met after a moment. She gave him a small smile, her other hand coming up to hold the back of his head as he leaned forward to rest on her shoulder.

“We can try to find books on reading infernal… if not then we can explore other options.”

Astarion was quiet for a moment before speaking once more, “We’ll see, darling.” Nothing else was said for the rest of the night.

They all saw it, even Gale and Shadowheart piped up with a warning before the rest of them.

Necrotic magic, undead. Nothing they have not dealt with before. One way or another, they had to get through, there was a Creche in these mountains. Either they would get through or Lae’zel would kill them all herself.

Gale and Wyll were flinging spells, Astarion was picking off the lone ghouls, Shadowheart was making sure people weren’t going to die. Karlach was running in head first with Lae’zel at her side. It was certain that they were going to win until she noticed the undead that had fallen were starting to rise back up.

The paladin combed the path, catching sight of a giant of a glowing skeleton carrying a reaper’s scythe. She watched for a moment as it continued to bring back the recently fallen undead. Her decision made, she dashed forward, ignoring the few claws that managed to snag her armor, one managing to rip her helmet off as she dashed her way through the battlefield.

Sword raised, the shining blade singing with holy light as she brought it down onto the Death Shepherd. She let a smirk grace her face as she heard its shriek, the monster turning its attention towards her completely.

Words echoed through her head, one of the first lessons Hilor had ever spoken to her, ‘Heed your surroundings in battle, Andan. You may think the battle is won, but there is always a chance of loss until you are all that stands.’

She did not see the second Death Shepherd. She did not see the scythe as it cut upward, catching her in the gut. She could barely hear the shouting, someone screaming her name. Pain began to erupt once more in her abdomen, and then her chest.

Images began to blur until it all went dark. The last thing she remembered seeing was a clash of red and white.

It was dark, flashes of memories from her childhood. The cold, the hunger, the loneliness. She saw a gauntleted hand reach out towards her, gold against the gray streets of the Gate. Safety. Andan remembered reaching her hand out towards it, then her chest began to hurt, her lungs gasping for air. Her vision was flitting between the golden gauntlet and an old withered hand.

Then her eyes finally opened, only to shut tight as she was blinded.

“Andan!”

“Fucking hells she’s up-”

“Say something, my friend, please-”

She took deep breaths, her chest wracked with pain. She cracked her eyes open this time, seeing the afternoon sun cresting the mountains. She spat out the blood in her mouth, not caring that it hit her armor.

“Still alive,” she let a grin grace her features, attempting to crack a joke.

“No, you weren’t.”

She looked up at the voice, meeting the wet gaze of Astarion. He had her head in his lap, hands on either side of her face. He was covered in black blood, face smeared in a way that looked like he had tried to rub it off. His normally immaculately distressed hair looked like it had been put through a den of rats.

“Astarion…”

“No, no. You fucking died , Andan. You ran ahead by yourself, and we couldn’t get to you in time with the scrolls. Withers is the only reason why we were even able to bring you back."

She blinked up at him. He looked pissed, but beneath that she could see how terrified he was. Terrified that it had happened, and terrified that it had scared him so much.

She gave him the smallest of smiles, “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again.”

He looked surprised for a second before settling on a stern look, “You fucking better not.”

“I’ll second that- the fuck were you thinking, Dani?” Karlach pipped in, leaning over to block out the Sun.

“Uhm…” the half elf paused, furrowing her brows to remember, “I think something was bringing the Ghouls back. I ran up to try to disrupt it, but I didn’t see the second one… was in my blindspot.”

“How about this, Dani.. let the ranged attackers get the ones that are through a horde of undead, yes?”

She felt a small chuckle wheeze through at that, “I’ll agree with you on that, Wyll.”

Shadowheart shook her head, “Just because you know how you’ll die doesn’t mean you can be reckless. We’re all in this together whether we like it or not, and we can’t have you dying on us. Again.”

“I’ll be more careful.”

Halsin approached, hands glowing with healing magic. There was silence as he healed what wounds she had left. Astarion stood by her, offering support as she slowly got to her feet. Andan smiled at her companions, giving them a thumbs up as she successfully stood.

“All better, now.”

Halsin placed a hand on her shoulder, “Excellent. Are you hungry, my friend?”

The growl of her stomach seemed to answer that. There was an amused look from the druid.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Sit and rest- the food will come to you.”

Andan spoke no other words, letting her feet carry her over to the fire. Once she sat down, she could hear the soft sound of Astarion’s tsking to her left.

“Yes, my dear?”

“You’re still in your armor.”

She blinked, looking down at the bloodied cloth and chainmail, “... so I am.”

“That you are.”

There was a small tap on one of the fastenings at her shoulder. She felt a small smile creep onto her face, giving a small nod. Seconds later she felt Astarion begin to release her person from her armor. He was mumbling minor obscenities the entire time, only breaking his tangent to ask her to bend over so he could slip the chainmail off.

By the time he had laid everything out for Gale to cast prestidigitation to clean it off, Halsin had finished dinner, setting it in her hands.

“Thank you, Halsin.”

He said nothing, a small smile gracing his lips.

The bowl was warm in her hands, a thick soup consisting of potatoes and cheese. It smelled delicious, and as much as her stomach begged her to eat it she was nauseous. She took small bites, taking her time.

“How are you feeling, soldier?”

Andnan glanced up at Karlach, a smile on her lips, “Better, thank you… Thank all of you, actually.”

“What for, Dani?” Wyll raised his brow, turning his head towards her.

The paladin gestured to herself, “For making sure I didn’t, well… stay dead.”

“Of course! I don’t know where we’d be without you, Dani.” the beaming grin from Karlach stayed until she leaned down to whisper into her ear, “Especially Astarion- you should’ve seen him the moment you went down.”

Andan raised her brow at the Tiefling, matching her tone “Is that so?”

“Mmhmmm,” Karlach smirked, glancing over at where Astarion was going through the paladin’s hoard of books, grumbling all the while, “all hissing and spitting. Shadowheart has to stop him from running in after you.” The half-elf hummed softly, keeping her gaze on the vampire. Otherwise, she kept quiet, letting Karlach giggle about the pale rogue.

“Helloooo- Mama K to Dani, are you there?”

Andan snapped out of it, blinking back to focus, “Oh- yes?”

“Did you hear my question, Dan?”

“Oh… sorry, no. Can you please repeat it?” She hated how red her face was.

The barbarian gave her a smirk, “Oh, I’m sorry- was I interrupting your fangy thoughts?”

She scowled at the red tiefling, “Your question, Karlach.”

The taller woman burst into laughter, drawing the attention of everyone else in camp, “I was askin’ about you- you didn’t seem too worried about that fight, I was just guessin’ that, that fight wasn’t it.”

It took Andan a moment to understand what Karlach meant. “Wasn’t it”? What does she mean by that- oh. Her death. Everyone was silent now, listening to what she would say next. The half-elf took a bite of her food before answering.

“No.”

“Good! You’re not allowed to like- actually stay dead until we’re done with this, at least.”

Andan let a smile slip onto her face, “Neither do I, nor do I plan on letting the rest of you pass on, either.”

Conversation returned to the camp, allowing the half-elf to finish her meal with minimal speaking. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to catch Halsin’s gaze. There was a spark of worry in them, their previous conversation from several days ago coming back to her.

“Your death- it’s coming isn’t.”

“The signs have been there for a bit now. It’s been hard to ignore it.”

“I assume you’re not going to tell me exactly what it is, are you, my friend?”

“At least you can respect that boundary, unlike others.”

Briefly, she did think the last thing she was going to see was the undead. Briefly, she did not think she was going to open her eyes again.

Her eyes glanced at Astarion out of habit, spending a second to watch him finally choose a book and saunter over to her. Seconds before the vampire reached her, her gaze found Halsin’s again, watching his own eyes widen. Something seemed to click in his gaze, an almost morbid understanding reflecting there.

She gave him a small, sad smile before turning her gaze to the book Astarion cracked open as soon as he sat down. “Volo's Guide to Spirits and Spectres” . An interesting read, but she knew he preferred the informational books over her own fictional ones.

She sat there with Astarion in silence while the rest chattered away. She could feel Halsin’s gaze on her as he wrote in his journal, undoubtedly writing his private thoughts on the matter. She felt the familiar gaze of Withers, and knew he would keep watch over them as the sun began to slowly descend behind the mountains.

Andan let her head rest against Astarion, her eyes falling heavy as sleep began to take her.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in Candlekeep. Her belly, full for the first time in what felt like eternity, and body jittery with nerves. She was treated with kindness and then left alone in the temple. In a city she had never been to. Thoughts raced through her little head. What if this is all a trick and he’ll sell me? I can’t steal for the rest of my life. Is he going to kill me? I thought he said he would make me a paladin. Was it all a lie? Is he going to sacrifice me to some demon?

Her childish thoughts were interrupted by a gentle, gauntleted hand on her shoulder. Her heterochromic gaze whipped up to the much taller, older elf. Gentle gold eyes and long blond hair that looked to be starting the process of graying.

“Be at ease, my child. You are safe here, you will still live, yet.”

“How do you know that?” Andan’s voice sounded oh so childlike, so young. So scared.

He stooped down to her level, the smile grew somber ever so slightly, “I can see how people will die. And your death will not be here.”

“... and how will I die, Ser Hilor?”

“Do you truly want to know, child?”

Andan thought for a moment before finally answering, “Yes.”

Hilor was quiet for a moment before he spoke at last, “Andan, dear child, your death shall be this: ‘A vampire shall be the reason for thy passing’.”

Her face scrunched up, “Vampires don’t exist, so I’ll never die.”

He let out a sad chuckle, “They do, young one. But I pray you will not meet anytime soon, they can be selfish creatures.”

Fear tickled through her. Maybe coming here was a bad idea after all-

“Do not let my words hinder you, Andan. Take it as a warning. Do not let fear guide your life. Live it how you want. If you wish to hunt down vampires, then you can. If you want to stay away from them, then who am I to stop you.”

“... how is the vampire going to kill me?”

A sad smile came to his aged face, “I do not know, dear child. You could be enemies, it could be a mistaken identity, it could all be an accident.”

Her gaze fell to the ground, fear wracking her body. She did not like that one bit, but her ten-year-old brain did cling onto one thing. Live life how she wanted to. I’ve almost died so many times from hunger, fighting others for scraps. What’s one more danger of death?

The dream came to an end, allowing Andan to truly open her eyes. She was inside her tent now, a cold presence next to her. Turning onto her side, she looked at her bed companion. Astarion was on his back, trancing. A book was laying neatly in his lap, and he looked at peace.

Dead.

Hilor’s words began to swirl in her mind again.

“A vampire shall be the reason for thy passing.”

The older she grew, the less she had thought of it. It would hit a point her social life was plagued with the fear of vampires, merely speaking the name was going to suffocate her. But, in all this time she had never met a vampire. All the way up till now.

A smile graced her lips, leaning in closer to him. If he knew what it was, it could turn out two different ways. He could be indifferent and brush it off as passing information. Given how Karlach said he had acted earlier when she went down, Andan did not think this would be the case.

I can’t tell him. I can’t let him know.

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#bg3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion #astarion bg3 #aastarion x tav #Astarion x Andan #Andan #Forgiveness and vengeance

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