#wooooo this was a long one!

[boatemboys]

can i come over and pretend to be a normal human being except neither of us know what a normal human being is meant to look like

[expelliarmus]

[vale-writes]

when i feel icky i like to project onto whatever poor characters happen to be my hyper fixation at the time. might i recommend a hurt/comfort with our favorite vampire spawn when tav gets burnt out/depressed/dissociates?

i love this request <3 my dissociation has been horrible these past 3 weeks and i hadn't even thought of doing this. thank you!!

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, dissociation, reader is in depressive/dissociative episode, gender neutral reader, post-events of the game, bg3 and astarion spoilers

summary: ever since you defeated the netherbrain and saved baldur's gate from evil, astarion noticed you weren't yourself anymore. he started seeing pieces of himself in your behavior, which terrified him. he decides to ask what's wrong and tries to help you through it <3

Ah, sunrise. The time that Astarion should’ve despised the most, considering it’d kill him, but it was really one of the times of day that he loved the most. Because you were there waiting for him in bed.

He was just coming back from a night of haphazard drinking with Karlach and Wyll. They’d both invited you out, but you’d refused, saying you were too tired from all the work you’d been doing helping Baldur’s Gate rebuild. Astarion had been suspicious of you. You were never one to turn down some partying with friends, but he had tried not to think too much of it.

He quietly crept back in through the front door of your shared house, and a soft smile found its way onto his face when he saw that all the curtains had already been drawn to protect him. You must’ve drawn them before you went to bed, knowing he’d be back by sunrise. It was the little things like that that made his undead heart feel alive, even if just for a moment.

Astarion slowly pulled his boots off, trying not to make any noise. After centuries of slinking about, being silent wasn’t something he really had to try to do. But he always was extra conscious when it came to you. He didn’t want to wake you up or disturb your sleep. You deserved to rest.

He gently opened the door to your room and just stared at you for a bit. There was no light in the room, but his darkvision let him see you just fine, albeit in shades of grey. He changed into some more comfortable clothes for sleep and slid into bed with you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You were sleeping on your side with your back facing him, so he just buried his face in the back of your neck and deeply inhaled your scent. Gods, you were so warm. And soft. And the perfect person to sleep next to.

“I’m home, darling,” he murmured softly into your neck, though he knew you couldn’t hear him in your sleep. He always tried to savor this time. Your schedules never seemed to line up, what with him being nocturnal and you not, but sunrise was the one time you both could really rest together, even if it was only for a few hours.

“I love you,” he said before placing a light kiss on the back of your neck and closing his eyes, holding you tight against him. He let himself relax and fall into his trance, his breathing slowing and muscles relaxing into you.

He woke from his trance about four hours later with you still in his arms asleep. He blinked in confusion. By now, you should be out of bed and out of the house. He was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. Maybe you’d decided to take the day off to rest. He couldn’t complain about that. He simply nuzzled his face into your neck again and decided to just wait for you to wake up. You always looked so peaceful when you slept. He could stare at you for hours, just drinking in the sight of you.

He sat up and took out a new book he’d been reading. He wasn’t just going to sit around the house doing nothing when the sun was out. He ran a hand through your hair while he read; half because he knew you liked it, and half because he was a selfish bastard who kind of wanted you to wake up already so he could tell you about all the stupid shit he’d gotten into last night. You slowly stirred from your sleep at his touch, turning to look up at him. You lazily draped an arm over his blanket-covered legs.

“G’morning, ‘Starion,” you said groggily.

“Good morning, darling. You’re up late. Did you plan on taking the day off?” He continued running his hand through your hair and set his book down by his side.

“..What? What time is it?” You frowned in confusion.

“It’s already almost midday. Are you okay? You don’t usually oversleep. Well, this much, anyway.”

“..Midday..? Godsdamnit I’m so late,” you grumbled as you laid face first on your pillow. “Might as well just stay home at this point.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re not answering my question, darling.”

“What was the question?” you asked, your voice muffled by the pillow.

“Look, darling, as much as I love having your face in the pillow when we’re in bed, I need you to turn over so I can actually hear you.” He grinned at his own dirty joke and waited to hear your giggle back.

But he got nothing.

“..Are you hungover or something?” he scoffed. “You know, we invited you out last night. Did you go off partying with some other group of dashing bastards? You can tell me. I’ll pretend to not be offended.”

Again, nothing. He tried to hide the growing panic in his voice.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly, as if it couldn’t be true if he didn’t say it loud enough. “Did I do something?” He took his hand out of your hair and placed it on his lap. His eyes raked over you, trying to see if there was anything physically wrong with you. You were eerily still. Still breathing, but you weren’t moving at all, even though it couldn’t have been comfortable with your face in the pillow like that.

“No. ‘Starion.” Your voice sounded.. pained. Like every word was taking the life out of you to say. He reached over and picked your limp body up to turn you over onto your back. Your eyes were glazed over and half-lidded. If he couldn’t feel you breathing in that moment, he was sure he would’ve thought you died. He moved some of your hair out of your face as some was stuck to your mouth.

Astarion leaned over you, scanning your face to see what could possibly be wrong with you.

“Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” He hadn’t noticed any signs of someone breaking in and he didn’t smell your blood anywhere in the house. What in the Hells was wrong with you?

“‘M fuzzy..” Was all you said.

“You’re.. fuzzy..?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “What do you mean you’re-“

And then it clicked. He’d seen you like this once before. It was after you’d been imprisoned and chained up by that goblin priestess, Gut. You’d stumbled out of there in a daze, covered in blood but silent. Once you’d all gone back to camp, you just stayed in your tent for hours. Karlach had gone to check on you, but all she came back to tell the group was that you had been laying there silently. The only thing you’d said was that you were “fuzzy.” Gods, it was so long ago that he’d almost forgotten.

He stared into your eyes. Eyes that were looking, but not seeing. He saw himself laying there. In your eyes, he saw the same faraway look he made himself have every night when he was still enslaved by Cazador. It made him have a horrible nauseous feeling in his stomach. What could have possibly made you feel this awful?

“I’m going to get you some water, okay?”

You simply blinked at him. He tried to mask the anxiety on his face and hurried to pour you a cup of water. He came back into the room with your favorite cup in hand and set it on the nightstand next to you.

“Do you think you ca-“ He looked down at you and saw there were tears falling from your eyes. They fell down your temples and onto the pillow under you, but your expression hadn’t changed since he left. He gently wiped the tears from your eyes as if you were a delicate piece of glass. As if you could break.

Your mind was completely empty but unfathomably full at the same time. You wanted to tell Astarion what was wrong. That you never had time to process everything that happened in your adventure. That the faces of the people you killed or couldn’t save were always in your mind. That the wounds you’d taken always felt like they were still there, no matter how many times Shadowheart had healed you. It was too much.

But whenever you tried to tell him what happened, the thoughts drifted away from you. Your tongue felt heavy. It was better to just give in to the gnawing emptiness. To let it consume you. To let it drown you.

Astarion took your hand in his and gently rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand. The chill of his skin against yours brought you up for air for a moment.

“..cold,” you fought through the heaviness of your own tongue, trying to tell him that the cold was helping. He pulled his hand away from you immediately.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I thought it might-“ He looked down and saw that you had gripped his hand into yours before he could pull away, his cold hand now spreading its chill through your own. He frowned in confusion. “What..?”

You flicked your chin up to motion him closer. Every movement felt like dragging a thousand pounds behind you, but his touch lightened the load just a bit. He tentatively brought his face closer to yours, now about a foot away. You flicked your chin again, then pushed your head down so your forehead was closer to him.

His eyes flickered in understanding once you did this. He laid a gentle, cool kiss to your forehead before resting his forehead on yours.

“Is this helping? Me being cold?” he murmured, his nose brushing against yours as he spoke. You simply closed your eyes and took your first deep breath of the day. Gods, were you lucky your partner was undead.

“Mm,” you grunted in response. He took his free hand and wrapped it around the back of your neck to hold you closer. He picked you up to help you sit up against the headboard of the bed, then straddled you to sit in your lap. He wrapped his arms around you, trading his undead ice for your living warmth.

It shocked your brain out of its spiral, finally letting you fully see Astarion. Your hands moved to his waist and you kissed his nose, earning a surprised noise from him. He pulled away to look at you again, his red eyes drinking in every inch of your face, as if he was trying to memorize every line and shape in it.

“What happened, love? Did someone hurt you? Did you eat or drink something odd? Gods, if anyone did anything to you, they’ll have to deal wi-“

“Astarion-“ you tried to cut him off before he could begin his “I’ll murder anyone,” rant.

He scowled. “No, I’m serious. Who did this to you? Where do they live? You know I’ve got plenty of experience killing. Nobody would know-“

“Astarion.” His face softened and he looked at you again. You gently tucked a stray curl back behind his ear. “Nobody hurt me. I just- life has been a lot, recently. I’ve been so busy helping everyone rebuild and I never had time to just.. rest, and recover from what happened to me. To us.”

“You fucking hero,” he rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Can you be selfish for just one second? Fuck them all. Are you saying spending the entire day shoveling bricks out of the street and listening to people cry for hours is more important than laying here with-“

You shot him a warning look. He rolled his head back and dramatically groaned in frustration.

“Why didn’t you tell me before this happened?” He rested one of his hands on your chest, toying with a stray thread coming out of your shirt. He’d have to fix that later.

“I didn’t want to worry you, ‘Starion. I thought I could handle it,” you mumbled and looked away from him, ashamed by your weakness. You couldn’t deal with a little zoning out and feeling sad every now and then? Really?

He took his other hand and pushed your face back to face him. When you saw him again, his eyes were narrowed and darkened at you. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” You squirmed under him, confused by the sudden firmness in his voice.

“Don’t say you didn’t want to worry me. That’s what led to.. this, which made me infinitely more worried than if you had just told me sooner.” He took a deep breath. He was trying to practice that whole “vulnerability” thing. “It scared me, seeing you like that,” he murmured. “At first, it was because I didn’t know what was wrong. And then it got worse when I did realize what was wrong. I don’t- I don’t want to see you like that. Like me, before.. all of this.”

Your heart felt full, but also dropped at the same time somehow. Gods, he really did care about you. In your efforts to try to shield him from what was happening, you ended up hurting him anyways. You took his hand on your face and kissed it softly before resting your face on his chest, tightly wrapping your arms around him.

“I’ll take that as an apology. You know, I’d prefer a bouquet and a new perfume—maybe a new pair of shoes as well—but I suppose this will do,” he sighed, trying to sound annoyed. You could hear the smile in his voice, though, even if he tried to hide it while you drank in his scent in his chest.

“Now, lay down again. You’re staying right next to me until I say you can leave. I never thought I’d say this, but I do miss our little camps, if only for the fire I could sleep by every night.” He pulled himself off of you and got back under the covers, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in as well. He was startlingly strong for a.. petite elf, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He spooned you, leaving kisses along your neck while holding you tightly against himself. Your heat spread through his chest and stomach, making him release a content sigh.

"You'll be my fire, won't you? All you have to do is stay here and rest with me, darling. Let me take care of you."

Yeah, the city could go without you for a few days. You had more important things to do now.

[acidxinxwonderland]

Pretty Eyes Made of Stardust

18 plus smut shot! Minors DNI!!!

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy x F!Reader

Summary: Freddy notices how stressed you are from being a manager at the Mega Pizzaplex, he wants you to take a break but it appears there is only one way to distract you from your heavy work load. 

Word Count: 4.3k A/N: This is a very rushed one shot to get some practice in! So it’s nothing too fancy, just thought Freddy deserved more pieces about him ;o; Enjoy all the praise and some sweet smut~ You can also read it on AO3 if that’s more of your style: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47706907

You sit at your desk with the light of the computer hitting your face while you hunch over, typing away on the keyboard with tired eyes in the comfort of your office. Working here made you quickly realize one of the things Fazbear Entertainment enjoyed doing was overworking their employees, especially if you’re the manager of all attractions. Every injury, the smallest of things breaking, an angry parent, all of that falls onto you. 

It was a lot of paperwork, an endless sea in fact, every day you have to spend hours into the night at the Pizzaplex just to get what you need to do to go home and not worry about it the next day. You press send a report in only for a new one to pop right up. You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up in your squeaky office chair and running a hand over your face, letting it settle down onto your chin as your eyes skim over the words that quickly become one, big blurry mess. You blink, shaking your head as you try once again to read the report - yet to no avail nothing was making sense. “Jesus.” You mumble underneath your breath, having to take a moment to place your elbows on your desk and cradle your face on the palm of your hands. Your body feels so tense, it was almost as if something was crawling underneath your skin as you tried to make yourself relax. 

As you practice slow deep breaths you hear a knock at your door, causing you to straighten up from surprise as your gaze shoots over to the sound. You take a moment to regain your composure, wondering who on earth would be visiting your office so late at night. “Come in!” You call out, swinging your chair to the side to greet the late night visitor.

The door opens to reveal none other than Freddy Fazbear. You are surprised to see him but a small welcoming smile appears on your face. You have always considered Freddy to be one of your friends, something that gave you company you truly enjoyed. He has made this year of working enjoyable, in more ways than one. “Ah, Freddy. I’ve never seen you at my office so late!” You say, adjusting in your seat. “Is everything alright?” Once you ask this question you immediately begin to pray that it wasn’t some last minute report that only added onto your workload. 

“No need to worry, everything is alright.” Freddy replies, his piercing blue eyes roaming around your office before settling back onto your face. “I wanted to check in on you, I’ve noticed this is your fourth night staying this late.” 

Your soft smile widens, a laugh leaving your lips as you nod your head. “Yeah, things seem to just be going wrong at all attractions recently. A lot of work to do so… Here I am!” You gesture towards your computer and he takes a step in, making everything in the office dwarf compared to him. 

“I see… That doesn’t sound too good.” His face seems to be scanning yours, you can only assume he is checking your vitals like he does everytime the two of you see each other. “You seem to be quite stressed, superstar, perhaps it would be in your best interest to take a break or even come back early tomorrow morning so you can get some well deserved rest!” 

His concerns were sweet and you were tempted to follow his advice but you knew what had to be done. You wave your hand at him dismissively. “Psh, nah. I’m fine! Nothing I can’t handle, I’ve been getting pretty good at this.” You lie right through your teeth, if it wasn’t for your tired eyes and tensed up body you might have been able to fool him. 

Freddy falls silent for a moment once you finish reassuring him that you were okay. All you can do is look up at him with a forced smile. “Are you… Sure superstar?” He asks in a cautious tone, seeing right through your lie.

Your smile drops immediately from the question. The jig was up. Your shoulders fall while you shake your head. “No. I’m not sure.” You look off to the side, letting your guard drop around the animatronic bear who always has brought you a comforting warmth. “It’s uh… It’s a lot. All of it is just… a lot.” You let out a sigh, gaze landing upon the document on your computer screen. 

The sound of large metal feet fitting the ground falls upon your ears as he comes closer to you, a large metallic paw landing on your shoulder. The contact causes you to immediately relax.

“There’s nothing wrong with it being too much. After all, you are only human superstar. Please don’t feel like you ever have to pretend you’re okay when you’re around me.” His soft tone feels like a warm fluffy blanket wrapping around you, each kind word leaving an impact on you. 

You feel your eyes begin to sting, heart skipping a beat as you finally look up at him with a sweet smile. How could something not even human show you so much compassion? “Freddy…” Your voice breaks and you try your best to not feel embarrassed from your vulnerability. “Wow, um, thank you. That’s really sweet of you to say.” His eyelids lower, looking at you with affection as you continue to talk about your issues. “It’s just hard, you know? Never ending pile of paperwork, having to check on your guys handlers, making sure the employees of the attractions are doing their best. It’s… Like god, it’s terrible. If I’m going to be honest I would have quit by now if it wasn’t for…” You trail off, feeling a small warmth dust across your cheeks from what you were just about to confess. 

“If it wasn’t for what, superstar?” Freddy asks with curiosity laced in his tone. 

You take a moment but decide to admit what you were going to tell him, why not? He’s a robot, he wasn’t capable of judging you. “For you.” You breathe out, giving him another smile. “I mean it, I know there are days where we don’t see much of each other, but even a kind look from you can make me feel better about… Well everything really.” 

Freddy seems a little taken aback from your admission but a warm look remains on his features causing your heart to skip a beat. 

“I can’t express how much that means to me to hear you say that. If I may tell the truth as well, I feel the same way. Ever since you started working here, you added a splash of color to my daily routines, the days I don’t see you… It feels as though something is missing. It’s strange really.” 

It was strange, you didn’t expect an animatronic of all things to say something so sweet to you. A tear slips down your cheek as you let out a laugh, your cheeks heating up more. 

“Well, I guess I just have that effect on people, even on animatronics apparently.” You say jokingly, giving him a look of admiration. 

The hand on your shoulder goes up to your cheek, the cool metal against your warm cheek was soothing even if it increased your heart rate. “I guess you do.” He says in that deep voice that you’ve come to love. He leans down closer to you and you tilt your head up more, blinking up at the bear with intrigue. “You know. Your eyes are like big pools, I adore it. It hurts to see tears in them.” Your breath hitches in your throat as every word of his sinks in. You can’t help but let out a nervous laugh. “Freddy, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.” Freddy lets out a deep chuckle. “What if I am?” 

What… The fuck is happening? 

The large thumb of his paw gently strokes your skin as you try to keep your cool. You are completely taken by surprise, not expecting a family friendly animatronic to be making moves on you. 

You force yourself to speak, wanting to let him know you are one hundred percent on board with this. “Then I must be the luckiest girl on earth.” You utter out, finding yourself leaning against the hand on your cheek.

“Is that so?” He rumbles, his hand sliding down to your chin and gently lifting it up. “Then… You wouldn’t mind if I kissed you, would you?” His question made your cheeks bloom into a brilliant shade of red, eyes widening as you feel as though you could die right then and there. You take a moment, staring up at him as your heart pounds in your ears. A slow shaky breath leaves you as your hands go up to his shoulders.

“I… I wouldn’t mind at all.” You manage to say despite your lungs feeling like they're getting crushed by two large hands. 

“That’s good.” Freddy gives you a wink before leaning in at an agonizingly slow pace, his lids sliding shut. You don’t hesitate, posture straightening so your warm lips can meet his muzzle. It wasn’t like kissing another person, of course it wasn’t, but it was more enticing than anything in the entire world. Your hands slide up further on his shoulders, tugging to bring him even closer to you. 

The hand on your cheek slides to the nape of your neck as his head tilts to the side, pressing against your lips harder as he gives a gentle squeeze to your skin. Your racing heart begins to calm, muscles relaxing as you find yourself getting lost in the feeling. You let out a sigh through your nose, melting into the warmth of the contact between the two of you. 

After a few passing moments Freddy pulls away and you have to suppress a whine from the loss; you open your eyes to see electric blue ones staring right back at you. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, letting out a laugh of disbelief. Did this really just happen to you?

“So beautiful.” He admires, running a hand through your hair as he lets out a deep chuckle. “I’m surprised you allowed me to do this…” 

“Are you kidding me? I’m surprised you even wanted to do this in the first place. It’s um… For sure not in your programming.” 

Freddy lets out a mechanical hum, taking a moment to think before responding. “It isn’t in my programming at all. Sounds like you’re a bad influence on me, superstar.” 

You let out a breathy giggle, shrugging your shoulders. “I suppose I am.” Your hand goes down to his chest, rubbing up and down tantalizingly. “Does that bother you?” 

“No.” 

“Good. Because now that you’ve given me a taste, I want more.” You murmur, feeling a bit shy from your confession. 

“If that’s what you wish, I can give the world.” He leans back in and presses his muzzle against your lips again but this time with more pressure. You let out a small squeak in surprise before immediately melting, kissing him back with a matched eagerness, bringing your arms back up to wrap around his thick neck. 

You feel your breath becoming more uneven, your heart beginning to pick up its pace as you pour all your feelings into the kiss, eyes screwed shut as you move your lips against the metal. You feel large paws fall to your hips and before you know it he lifts you up as if you weigh nothing more than a feather. Without skipping a beat your legs go to wrap around his large torso, keeping your mouth upon his as you feel the air escape your lungs. 

He turns towards your desk, one hand leaving your body to push everything to the side in one swoop before placing you on the desk, not breaking the kiss once. The large metal paws begin to run up and down your sides causing you to shiver as you let out a small noise. 

Freddy pulls away and you let out a gasp for air, looking up at him with desperation now. He lets out a deep chuckle that sounds like a beautiful melody to you. 

“Why don’t I help you relax, superstar?” He says in a seductive tone that feels like pure honey. His paw finds its way to your thigh, rubbing up and down in a slow, teasing way. You only take a few seconds for you to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Uh, I-I-” 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He says firmly, staring into your eyes. “The last thing I’d like to do is ruin what we have going on here.” 

“No, it’s n-not like that.” You say, letting out a shaky breath as you look down to see his immense paw covering up the entirety of your thigh. He was so big, you feel as though you should be threatened by this fact but you feel more safe than you ever have with another. “Just a little nervous, I.. Want this more than anything.” 

Freddy lets out a deep chuckle, giving your flesh a light squeeze that sets your nerves on fire. “Oh I know you’re nervous… Don’t think I don’t notice how fast your heart races whenever I do something as little as grazing against your arm. I can practically feel it.” His free hand goes up to your neck, gently wrapping his hand around the base and placing his thumb over your pulse. “It’s adorable.” 

The other hand slides further up your thigh before reaching your stomach, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt to go towards your chest and you feel like you’re going to die from what was taking place. Your gaze goes back up to his, completely memorized as the palm of his hand covers your breast, giving a gentle squeeze that entices you further, thighs spreading apart as you feel a wetness building up. 

“Look at you… The smallest of touch and you’re practically begging for more.” Freddy muses, a rumble vibrating his chest plate. You feel yourself tremble against his touch as your body begins to feel impossibly warm. “Lovely girl.” 

“F-Freddy…” You whimper out, a gasp leaving your lips as you eagerly lean into his touch. You cannot believe this is happening to you, never once in your life did you think an animatronic like Freddy would come on to you and then proceed to grope you in your own office. It left your head spinning, making every second a bit harder to breathe. 

The hand leaves your breast, going back to the end of your shirt to carefully lift it up over your head and place it beside you on the desk. You can’t help but feel timid exposed to him like this in your bra, his gaze roaming up and down your torso with half lidded eyes. 

“Wow.” He finally says, bringing his hands to your back to unclasp your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders to take in the sight of your bare breasts. “Superstar…” He murmurs, bringing his hands back to your breasts, gently squeezing them together. “You are otherworldly.” 

Your heart skips a beat from his amorous words, each compliment ingraining itself into your mind. You can’t help but look away, getting more timid as soft moans leave your mouth as he begins to massage your chest. 

“Don’t shy away from me now, I admire those lovely eyes.” Freddy was just saying all the right things, no one has ever made you feel this way. You bring your gaze back onto his, despite being an animatronic it was clear he was looking at you with pure adoration. “That’s my girl.” 

His thumbs cover the expanse of your nipples, rubbing in slow circles that sends delightful shivers throughout your body. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this, how much I have daydreamed about you.” 

You are surprised by his admission. You always felt an attraction towards Freddy, something about him enthralled you but long ago you came to terms with the fact he could never return those feelings. Yet, here you are now, feeling drunk off the strong feelings the two of you seem to have for one another.

“Really?” You squeak out, letting out another sigh of pleasure as his thumbs press down. The feeling of arousal between your legs only grows, wanting nothing more than to feel more of his touch. “I… Wish you told me sooner.” You admit in a quiet tone. You find yourself wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, having to spread your legs even farther so his large frame can fit in between them. “All those restless nights thinking about you and yearning for something I didn’t think was possible.” 

“Oh superstar, I am so sorry that I caused you those feelings. I wish I said something as well, but…” He presses his pelvic plate against your sex, the smallest bit of friction causing you to gasp. “Here we are now, let’s make the most out of it.” 

You nod your head, feeling as though you were in a dream. You lean in closer, pressing your lips against his muzzle as you gently grind up against him while he continues to massage your breasts. You let out a pleasurable moan against his metal, grabbing one of his hands to bring it down towards your sex.

Freddy pulls away, resting his forehead on yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. “Eager, are we?” 

“You have no idea.” You laugh out, feeling a sense of excitement as he takes a small step back, his other hand leaving your breast to grab onto the edge of your pants. You lift your hips up to assist him as he slowly slides your pants down your thighs and off your legs. 

You spread your legs for him, watching as he drinks in the sight of you. “Even better than what I imagined.” He says in a soft tone, eyes not leaving your crotch as he places the palm of his large hand against your clothed sex. You immediately push into his touch, letting out a low moan from the contact. “I can feel how wet you are for me through your panties, desperate little thing.” 

His words left you squirming in place, the Freddy Fazbear dirty talking to you had a very strong effect on you. It seems he quickly noticed the pleasure it brings to you, beginning to move his hand against your panties as he leans in to talk into your ear. “Look at you, I’m barely doing anything to you and you’re already coming undone.” 

You push your hips up against his hand, your noises getting louder as your face flushes red. “Can you blame me?” You say through shaky breaths. “I want you so bad.” 

“And you have me.” He replies with a warm tone, stopping his movements to push your panties to the side. He leans back to look down, letting out a mechanical groan just from the sight. “Oh my, I…” His pause makes you feel a twinge of nervousness creeping up in the back of your mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a lovely sight before.” 

His thumb moves to rub against the outside of your folds, making you shift in place with this almost uncomfortable desperation deep inside your core. “Please…” You whisper, trying your best to relax. 

“Hm, please what superstar? Is there something you’re wanting?” He says in this teasing tone that makes you giggle, shooting him a playful glare. 

You still give him what he wants, not wanting to put up a fight, for now at least. “Please touch me?” You ask sweetly, spreading your legs further apart for him. 

“As you wish.” Freddy murmurs, his large thumb going past your folds to cover your clit. You instinctively push against his touch, feeling as though you were touch starved. “There we go. Let all your worries melt away my star, you’re doing such a good job.” He praises, beginning to rub up against your sensitive nub. 

You let out a moan from the sensation, twitching underneath his touch as his free hand soothingly glides up and down your side. “Ah, so good.” You breathe out. 

“Yeah? You like that?” His tone dripped with arousal and desire, causing you to become even more desperate for the stimulation he was giving you. “You look so beautiful like this, I could play with you all night long.” 

You’d gladly let him, no one has ever brought you such pleasure. He applies more pressure and you let out a louder moan, it’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, you needed more. 

You grind up into his touch, your soft pants and moans growing in volume as he rubs you at a steady pace. “Oh, oh fuck Freddy.” 

Freddy’s thumb pauses its movements and you let out a small whine. “Watch your language.” He practically growls. “A delicate flower such as yourself shouldn’t say vulgar words like that.”

You blush deeply, nodding your head. “S-sorry… Please keep going.” 

His gaze softens. “Good girl.” Freddy murmurs out, returning to rub against your engorged clit, now with a faster pace. “So fragile. So perfect for me.” 

Freddy’s words and touch sent your mind into overdrive, having a hard time keeping up with what was happening. At this point you’ve completely forgotten about your work, the only thing that mattered was the bear right in front of you. 

“Would you like me to go faster?” He asks and you immediately nod your head in response. He chuckles out, quickening the pace of his movement without wasting any time. You only grow louder with your noises, leaning back as you feel your stomach tie up in knots. 

“Ah, oh god… Y-you’re going to make me cum.” Your hands squeeze at his shoulders, writhing underneath him as you feel your body beginning to tense up. 

“Already? Mm… Eager little thing, cum for me superstar. You sound so gorgeous when you’re like this.” 

Your grip only tightens as you feel a pressure in your core, thighs tensing as you are easily pushed off the edge. Something about him saying such dirty things really did it for you. Your head falls back as a loud moan pushes past your lips, twitching as you go through the motions of your delightful orgasm, enjoying every second. 

Once you finish Freddy stops his movements, still keeping his thumb on your sensitive nub. “Wow… I can feel you twitching.” He marvels, looking down in between your legs. “What a mess you left, superstar. You really needed this, didn’t you?” 

Your body slumps against the wall as you slowly nod your head, shivering from the best orgasm you’ve had in your life. “Yeah… Especially from you.” You stare up at him as you come down from your high, feeling a warmth bubble up in your chest. “I… I can’t believe we did this. I mean, how did you even know how to do this?” 

“I may be an animatronic, but I am not dumb.” Freddy says, chuckling out. “It’s always been basic knowledge, especially when you have access to the internet all in here.” He brings his arm up to tap a finger against his head. “As well as some other tools you never knew you had had.” 

“Tools?” You repeat, sitting back up as you tilt your head. “What do you mean tools?” 

Freddy looks down at his pelvic area and your eyes follow. It doesn’t take long for you to put two and two together. “No… Way.” You say in pure surprise. 

“Yes way. I actually figured out I had this when I met you.” He admits rather sheepishly, making you even more curious. “One night I was erm, thinking of you in not the most appropriate of ways. Then I felt a pressure and I opened up my pelvic hatch to reveal… A shaft.” 

“You’re-you’re kidding me. Oh my god, I seriously am a bad influence on you.” Your eyes are trained on his pelvic plate, biting your bottom lip. You really wanted to see it and he easily reads your expression, letting out a deep chuckle. 

“We can explore it another time, but I have kept you from work long enough.” 

“Work…?” You ask out, eye brows knitting together before the realization dawns on you. “Oh, oh god! Work!” You look back at your computer, feeling a sense of panic. 

“Hey, hey. It’s alright.” Freddy says comfortingly, running a hand through your hair to soothe you. “How about I help you? How are you feeling now, a bit more relaxed?” 

You gaze back up at him, feeling your worries melt away from his touch alone. “Yes, I do. Th-thank you Freddy for, uh, taking care of me. I really enjoyed it.” 

“I did too, superstar, you were so hot.” He admits and your face flushes red for the umpteenth time. Him of all things in the world calling you hot causes your heart to race. 

“Y-you were too.” You squeak out, taking a deep breath. “And, I’d really like some help. Even just having you here is more than enough. You can uh, sit on the chair and I can sit on your lap?” 

“Are you sure? That might not be very comfortable for you.” “Oh trust me, it’ll be more than comfy.” You say, giving him a bright smile. “You chose this, good luck not having me all over you whenever we are alone together.” 

Freddy lets out a loud laugh, leaning to press his muzzle against your forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

You can already tell this was the start of something beautiful.

[culssi]

Late entry but here. Kinda proud :)

Ink demonth 5: Secret

I’ve seen the word secret so many times, it’s started to look weird.

I haven’t drawn Sammys face in colour in a long while but it was quite fun to do so. I refuse to draw graphic novel sammy, he simply is a different person.

I simply did not want to draw joeys face so I blacked it out with an ink blot.

For some odd reasons, when I draw human batim characters, I like to draw their eyes as if they are water color, I guess to hint to how it’s all sort of paper and such. Revolves around art.

More underneath

Without lighting and background + joey without ink blot 💀.

Text reading: “I can trust you to keep a secret can’t I?” Said by Joey

Background 💀 I wrote the word secret because I thought it looked more interesting with my hand writing.

Bro this is hard to do I don’t have an apple pen I use my finger. This pixel looking brush looks kinda bad but it feels so good to draw with.

Hope you like it! Have a good day/night

[sockdooe]

the moon has no light of its own, only the sun allows her to glow

solar eclipse shance for the soul :,)

[gloombeaches]

Sweet 1600 printable roller bead bracelet (apparently a key reward item. Monster High website, archived via Wayback machine)

[whumble-beeee]

The Waiting Game

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 3

Contains: disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, PTSD, past captivity references, needles mention, tied up/retstraints, blood, collar

* * * * * * * *

[As the warden of your captured hero, you are responsible for their health, for better or for worse. So it is generally advised that you should make a habit of tracking what injuries you cause on or in the hero’s body. Write it all down in a journal!

Another reliable approach is to examine them physically. This approach is best used if you think the hero is lying or trying to hide a physical ailment they so stupidly caused to themself while you were away. There will usually be resistance from the hero to such an approach, so you may have to restrain the hero to use this method. This also comes with the drawback that only external ailments can be detected, so you will likely have to also pick up on cues in the way the hero acts to detect more invisible sicknesses; Are they dizzy, lurching around, or exhibiting other signs of illness? Then they might just be ill! But be wary of faking! How stupid they’ll feel when you don’t fall for it because you’ve read The Unofficial Guide to Hero-keeping! (for more information, turn to ‘Identifying Faked Behaviors’ on pg. XX)]

* * * * * * * *

Stan felt like he was dying. 

The way his arms wrenched behind his back had him constantly readjusting just to find even a semi-comfortable way to lie on the hard flooring. Every time he readjusted, the horrible aches and pains marring his body lit up as if it were the first time all over again, continually reawakening him with an infuriatingly small shot of adrenaline that only served to make him just conscious enough to feel the buzzing agony anew. He wove in and out of consciousness like a speedboat hurtled over the waves of choppy storming seas.

Genuinely a waking nightmare.

A bitter feeling at the top of his mouth stung lightly, clouding his mind, pulling him away from the terror, the torture, pulling him closer to an uneasy unconsciousness before the ever-present danger of the situation stormed back to the front of his mind and jolted him back awake.  Because yeah, the mercenary was still here in the room, sitting in his stupid chair and scrolling on his stupid phone. At least when he wasn’t standing up every so often to bounce around the room like a bouncy ball, or restlessly spin around in circles like a toddler or quietly seethe in a sort of Spanglish about “¿por qué tardan tonto?” and “God, are they fucking with me?” and “Ughhhhh, I’m bored.”

The intermittent movement only served to constantly remind Stan of his place on the floor, tied up, beat up, ankle chained, dizzy, collared, and without his cane.

Oh, and the collar. It sat heavily on his throat, restricting any and all use of his powers. Making the possibility of fighting back stretch ever farther away. 

He swallowed. Pushed the thoughts away. He tried not to think about it too much. The memories returned in the form of twisting waking nightmares if he thought about it too much. He did his best to just focus on the good things instead;

The fact that Chloe, his amazing little sister, didn’t seem to be involved in any of this. And if he ever found out she was, he would burn this entire place to the ground. He’d done it before for her, and he’d do it again. For her.

The fact that when (not if) he got out of this situation, he still had his fiance, Marcus, to go back home to. And in fact, Marcus was probably planning a rescue mission right this second, and when he saved Stan and put this Deeby guy in prison, they could all go back to normal and Stan could forget any of this had ever even–

“Oye! Chico! Stan, you better not be dying on me!”

Stan flinched out of his half-asleep daze and tried to move his hands out from behind him. His shoulders felt so stiff.

Didn’t work. 

Right. 

Then his eyes focused on the bounty hunter, and a glaring jolt of danger danger danger made him avert his gaze downward. The action made this vision swim, and he swayed. Had he always had a headache this bad?

The bounty hunter snorted at him.

“You givin’ me the silent treatment or something?” He started a slow meander toward Stan. “I was just checking up on you, bud. You stopped twitching and whining and shit, thought you were dead.”

And suddenly Stan found out that, in fact, there was a much more comfortable position for him to take in his bound-up state, that being him scootching back as quickly as possible from the encroaching mercenary until his back hit the wall. 

“I wasn’t–!” Stan did not want to be a part of whatever recreational activities he would come up with to stave off the aforementioned boredom. Especially now that he was so defenseless. “Just–... I just– tired… and hurting. Wasn’t ignoring you.”

He stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I can understand the hurting, considering…” he gestured vaguely to all of Stan. “That. But you’re tired? Really? You’ve been sleeping since you first got here.”

Stan took a deep breath and managed to roll his eyes against his better judgment.

“Getting kidnapped, beat to shit, and tied up so you can barely move really has a way of doing that to you, I guess…”

Stan knew his mistake as soon as he voiced the thought. Then it all but was confirmed when he saw the way the mercenary perked up, that lively glint in his eye, the way his smile widened just slightly. Stan found himself tensing and pressing even further into the wall, as if that would help at all when the mercenary came over to do whatever tortures he saw fit.

Instead, the man quirked his head at him. “When was the last time you ate? You hungry?”

Then he didn’t wait for an answer before rushing to leave the room.

Stan had to take a moment to process.

“I– What?!” he tried to call after the mercenary, already feeling his heart pounding in his chest. The bounty hunter reentered the room again with his hands in his jacket pockets, and Stan couldn't cover up the small whimper that escaped from his throat when Deeby trotted up to him and pulled out that same horrible pocket knife from before. 

“Turn around.” The bounty hunter ordered with a little twirling motion of his blade.

What was happening?

“A-ah– What?! N-no!”

His mouth pressed into a straight line, an agitated huff leaving his nose at the challenge. Though, the shine never left his eyes even when they narrowed.

“I’m gonna undo the cuffs, turn around.”

What?

Stan balked. “Why would–... What’s the knife–!”

The mercenary surged forward and reached for the back of Stan's neck. Stan ducked down with a screech, more out of instinct than anything else as he braced himself for the pulling of the strap around his throat, his breath being stolen away from him as it tightened, constricting his windpipe, cutting off his air supply and inevitably wrenching him around like a ragdoll. 

Only for the pressure to instead pull on the back of his shirt. 

And sure, yeah, he was still wrenched forward so that he splayed out onto his stomach, barely avoiding smacking his face into the ground after a blinding white light filled his vision when he fell hard onto his injured, overworked knee, and a hoarse cry forced from his throat when the bounty hunter's own perfectly working knee dug into his upper back right between the shoulder blades. But Stan could barely even find it in himself to be mad about that over the overwhelming and very confusing relief he felt at not being choked out.

He still squirmed and struggled to get out of the pin, though the struggle was very short-lived as he fell into a forced freeze when the point of the knife rested threateningly on the small of his back. Right above the cuffs.

“Cálmate! Jesuchristo,”  the hunter’s voice sounded from above him. “Sit tight and shut up, I’m doing you a favor.”

His wrists lifted up and the sliding shing and clicks of metal against metal sounded out, the cuffs shifting and clacking against his wrists as Deeby worked. Then one of the cuffs momentarily tightened before clicking open and wrenching off, and before he could even think of struggling again, the knee on his back swiveled around, grinding painful bone into bone as his arms swung above his head and were recuffed there. 

Stan grit his teeth against the various pitiful noises threatening his vocal cords. If he wasn't going to fight back, he at least wasn't going to yelp like a wounded puppy.

Even if the man sitting on his back did make him agonizingly reaware of the beating he took earlier, the punch to the liver, the throws against the wall, the sprint on a knee that barely worked. And newly aware of a few possibly cracked ribs that shot lightning-quick stabs up through his chest and arms.

The manhandling was truly a gift that just kept on giving.

“There, that wasn't so hard, was it runt?” The bounty hunter said smugly as he pinched the back of Stan's shirt and pulled him back upright to his knees, which Stan quickly readjusted to sit crisscross. He had to bite his tongue from another defiant ‘yes’ and possible ‘that's what she said’ joke. 

The mercenary nudged his leg with his boot. “Verbal response, bud.”

Stan pursed his lips as he inspected the cuffs adorning his wrists, noticing for the first time the dark fuzziness that clouded the edges of his vision. “You… you could have just… let me just turn around…”

He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked rapidly, shaking his head to clear the fuzz. Unsuccessfully.

“I gave you two chances. Told you what I was about to do. Plus, you need to learn to just do what I say. We can practice now actually! Eat this!”

A protein bar fell into Stan's lap. He stared at it. 

He hadn't really noticed over the various screeching aches consuming his body which warranted more immediate attention, but a small, almost unbearable void was starting to take the place of his stomach. Maybe that's why he was so lightheaded. He tried not to dwell on how long he must have been here for the hunger to get that bad, and very tentatively picked up the bar to inspect it for… tampering he supposed. Poisoning.

As he turned the bar over in his hand, a small flash of dark red blotching his hand caught his eye; A little smiley face, lightly bloodied and scabbed over carved into the back of his hand. Taunting him with its joy.

He gawked at it, clenching his fist and watching the scab move lightly over the tendons. This must have been what the mercenary had carved into his hand that made him freak out when he'd first woken up. A perversion of everything the symbol was supposed to represent.

A fucking tiny little smiley face.

“It's not poisoned or anything.” 

Stan practically jumped out of his skin as the mercenary appeared right beside him and deafeningly thumped one of the chairs down.

“If I wanted to drug you, I'd just–” he pressed the side of his fist into Stan's flinching arm and made a small popping sound, pantomiming a syringe. “Works a lot quicker than orally. And I can control the dose better.”

Oh. Oh no.

If the mercenary was ever going to drug him– Which there was almost no doubt he would try at some point–

He would use a needle.

“If– If you…” he was breathless, head spinning all of a sudden, vision tunneling on the death grip he held the protein bar in. “If you try to give me a shot, I'm going to– gonna freak ALL the way out. All the way. The entire way.”

He chuckled. “Damn, maybe I should poison your food then, calm down runt. Just sit in your chair and eat the protein bar.”

Stan wrenched his gaze up to the chair. He felt so hot. Was the room always this warm? He did not want to sit back in the chair. What would the bounty hunter do to him if he sat in the chair? What would he do if he didn't? Tie him up again? Torture him? Or maybe the plan was to poison him with the food. Deeby must have known he'd be hungry, he must’ve been here for hours at this point, if not a day. Or days?! He wasn't sure he could take much more of a beatdown, he already felt like he was teetering on the edge of a never-ending spiraling hole that he would never be able to escape from if there were any more restraints, more pain, more collars and taking away his powers so he couldn't defend himself even though he tried, more nonchalant bantering as if his entire life wasn't being torn apart at the seams, as if he weren’t in chains on the floor of some unknown warehouse with a collar forced onto him again with absolutely no chance of escape and no chance he would ever see any of his family ever again, no way to protect Chloe from the same fate, no–

“--Chico! STAN!!”

Two thunderous finger snaps shot through his consciousness. Stan screeched and tried to slam his elbows back, straining against the cuffs and shoving back into the wall as hard as he could, breath shuddering, feet skidding across the floor, eyes darting around trying to see through the pinhole that his vision provided for the source of the noise as the world spun on its axis around him.

Then his vision locked on the source of the noise, darkness slowly receding back to the edges of his vision. The source of the noise stared at him with a probing look on his face. Stan shrank even further into himself, if that was possible. He had curled up into a little ball at some point.

“Let go of the collar,” the hunter said, voice scarily even.

Stan felt his heart skip a beat as he realized that he was indeed white-knuckling the collar. He pried his hands off of his neck as his heart pounded in his ears, only barely drowning out the deafening sound of his own gasping breaths

“Wait wait, I didn't–!...” The mercenary stalked toward him, and suddenly he felt like a trapped animal again, collar and chains and all. “Please, I– I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I wasn't trying– trying– I wasn’t–!”

The hunter squatted down right in front of him and sharply held up a finger, and Stan slapped his hands over his mouth to stop any more words from tumbling out at the command.

“Follow my finger with your eyes, yeah?”

Stan jerkily nodded. Tears burned his eyelids and wet his hands.

Deeby moved his hand around and around in front of Stan's face. Stan did his best to follow it. The motion made Stan's head spin, as well as the piercing red gaze of the mercenary staring into his pupils that he did his best to ignore. 

“Oof, yeah,” Deeby said finally, resting his arm back down on his knee. “Concussion.”

Stan finally removed his hands from his mouth just enough to squeak out a response. “Concussion?”

“Concussion. You're off balance even though you're literally sitting down, staring into space, spacing out. Not making eye contact. Swaying. Plus your pupils are all blown up and you can't track for shit,” the mercenary laughed. “Maybe tossed you around a bit too hard back there. But hey, I told you what would happen if you tried to escape. That's on you, bud.”

Stan’s breath hitched on a light growl bubbling up in his throat. So it was his fault that he was beaten so badly that his brain literally rattled around his head? His fault that he was having a very understandable breakdown?

He wiped at the tear tracks running down his cheeks and around his eyes. Snorted, tried to get his chronically hitching breath back to normal. He couldn’t even remember what normal breathing felt like. The metal of the cuffs was surprisingly warm as they accidentally scratched at his face. 

“So… What're, uh…” he whispered breathily. “What’re we gonna– gonna do about it?”

“The concussion?”

Stan nodded.

“Nothing to be done really. Just don't try anything stupid and you won't get tossed around again, I guess. But you can’t really treat a concussion.”

Stan clonked his head back against the wall with an exasperated whine. The mercenary just gave an amused shrug in return with an almost empathetic smile. “Maybe don’t do that though. Want some painkillers?”

“No,” Stan growled at the air. His vocal cords sounded strained and whiny from the crying, and he cleared his throat to get his voice back to normal.  “I want you to let me go–” 

Deeby scoffed, but Stan reinterrupted the interruption before he could start with another quip. “– OR failing that, I want you to leave me the-the hell alone!”

“Hm. Yeah, no. I'm bored. I’ve left you alone for the past day, and I think you're supposed to stay awake for a bit if you have a concussion anyway. So you're not going back to twitching on the floor for the time being. And I’ll assume you’ll get snarky if I say I wanna do something more physical…”

The mercenary stood up and went to go grab his chair, setting it down just a few feet away from Stan before patting the seat of the chair that he’d set down earlier, the one Stan had previously been tied to, flashing a smile that Stan could have almost mistaken as friendly with all the brain fog.

“So sit down, eat your protein bar. Let’s just have a chat.”

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy

[foolofatook001]

Faerie Fort Week Day Seven -- Knight (I also went for the alt "Role Reversal" prompt as well.)

Only 'Til the Night is Over

The first time the King of the North sees the Shadow Knight, he is— he will admit— taken aback. 

The reason they are even meeting in the first place is at his Hand's insistence. Martyn is from the Land of Faerie originally (some kind of wood sprite, if he recalls correctly), and with the Ender incursions growing in scale and severity, his silver-tongued Hand finally managed to convince him that it was at least worth entering into treaty negotiations with other lands in order to bolster their forces. Not to mention, Martyn had said, I have some family connections that may help. 

Ren still thinks their army will be just fine for quite some time, but he is a reasonable man, and the less men his army loses, the better. They are on the front line, as his kingdom runs right up to the abyssal drop where the Ender invaders have been emerging in waves— the first and best bastion against the voidborn. 

So a delegation from Faerie has been sent to the North. At their head is the infamous Shadow Knight, general of a hundred victories and scourge of the undead. Three pale wolves keep pace alongside her jet-black gelding, often disappearing among the snow drifts that cover his kingdom. Her banners fly high and flap merrily with the wind: a sigil of lilies in gold on a black field. But the thing that catches his attention, as he watches their arrival from the battlements, wrapped in his warmest fur-lined red cloak, is the Shadow Knight's hair: pink as the sunrise, and running down her back all the way to the saddle like a river. The polished steel of her armor catches the sun both shining down and reflecting off the snow, and the effect as a whole is dazzling. He stays out, watching, until the gate has shut behind the whole delegation, and then returns inside. 

-o0o-

The second time the King of the North sees the Shadow Knight, he is once again surprised. This time it's because she is a good deal shorter than he expects. He wouldn't dare underestimate her, of course— her reputation speaks much too loudly for that— but he's sure he must be nearly half again her height. She's changed from her armor into an elegant blue dress, though she has an ornamental sword-belt— and sword— still buckled around her waist. Two of her retainers follow behind her: a man with a green streak in his dark brown hair and mage's robes, and a tall woman with a powerful build, pale, green-tinged skin, and hair as red as fire, who also has a sword-belt to accompany her navy blue dress. 

"Lady Lizabet!" Martyn exclaims from his place at the foot of the dais that holds Ren's throne. He hurries forward to greet her. "It's been too long, dear cousin." He kisses her cheek and grins, and the Shadow Knight smiles, though she rolls her eyes as she does. 

"It's good to see thee whole, cousin," she replies. "I see thou hast not frozen solid in this wasteland yet."

"Not yet," Martyn says, and Ren can't hold back his snort of laughter. It draws the two faeries' attention, and Martyn steps to the side, bowing. "Your Majesty," he says. "May I present to you Lady Lizabet of Faerie, the Shadow Knight, Scourge of the Undead and Guardian of the Realm; Lady Cleo of Faerie, the Twice-Lived; and Magister Beans of the College of Enchanters."

The Shadow Knight curtsies, and her two retainers follow suit. 

"We welcome you all to our court," says the King of the North, and the delegation rises to their feet. 

"So, Your Majesty," Lady Lizabet begins, her head held high and something like a challenge in her voice. "What is it the mighty Kingdom of the North could want from the Land of Faerie? One does not often hear of the Red King asking for help.”

Magister Beans winces behind Lady Lizabet. Lady Cleo grins, resting one hand on the hilt of her sword and the other on her hip.

Ren only looks down at her, one eyebrow raised. She’s taking an awfully confrontational stance for a delegation meant to be negotiating a treaty. He’ll keep calm, for now— though she may be antagonizing him, he can’t really afford to do the same to her. “Then you know it is important,” he says gravely, “since we do not often ask.”

Lady Lizabet inclines her head, and Ren feels as though he's passed some kind of test. 

"We need aid. Military aid," he says, fingers drumming on the arm of his throne. "While our army stands strong against the voidborn for now, the Long Night grows ever closer, and soon they will be able to rally others to strike against us from the abyss. Our army may be good," he says, and meets Lady Lizabet's eyes directly, "but they are only human. And we prefer to avoid the loss of life when we can."

Lady Lizabet considers this. "And what could you give the Land of Faerie in return?"

He exchanges a glance with Martyn. They'd discussed this at length, both in private and with the privy council, and finally landed on something that the Hand said would certainly be tempting. "We will offer our netherwort to all merchants from the Land of Faerie at a steep discount. And of course, if you come to our aid, we also will come to yours, with the full might of the North." Assuming we survive the coming onslaught, he doesn't say aloud, but he's sure the Shadow Knight knows. Netherwort, though, grows exclusively in the North, and is a key ingredient in many popular potions. Surely she cannot turn down such a deal.

Magister Beans leans forward, whispering excitedly into Lady Lizabet's ear, and Ren presses his lips together to keep from smiling in triumph. He's got at least one of them hooked, and that's what he needs. The delegation confers for a few moments, and Ren waits patiently. 

Finally, Lady Lizabet steps forward. "I have been granted by the King and Queen the ability to make treaties in their name. If we can have the terms in writing and witnessed, I will accept this deal," she pronounces. 

"Then we will see it done," says Ren, and motions to Magister Bigbi, his chief scribe and notary, who he had prepare something in advance. 

He presses his seal to the blood-red wax at the bottom of the treaty, then waits as all three faeries carefully read it over. Then Lady Lizabet presses her lily seal below his, and a courier is dispatched to the Land of Faerie. 

"Now that that's settled," says Ren. "We offer you the opportunity to join us at our table this evening."

"Only this evening?" Lady Lizabet asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"Aren't you leaving for Faerie as well?" 

The Shadow Knight laughs, and just like out in the snow, her hair catches the light of the torches, sunset-pink and glorious as it spills over her shoulders. "Ah, Your Majesty, I think you have been under a misapprehension. We are the advance guard. We are here to fight for you."

Ren is taken aback once again. It's becoming something of a familiar experience, faced with the Shadow Knight. "Well, then, you are welcome as long as you are here," he says finally, and gestures for Martyn to lead the way to the Great Hall for the evening meal. 

-o0o-

Ren encounters the Shadow Knight on the Wall overlooking the abyss one night, far past the hour any reasonable person should be awake. 

"Lady Knight," he says, when he comes around the corner and nearly runs into her, his hands coming up automatically to steady her arms. 

"Your Majesty," she replies. "And why are you wandering the Wall so late at night?"

"We could ask the same question of you," he says, raising an eyebrow. 

"It's my duty to defend this Wall, I've a right to be on it when I like," she answers, lifting her chin. "And must you do that?"

"Do what?"

"It's just us, you know, Your Majesty. I should think we've done enough strategizing into the wee hours of the morning that you could be a little less formal, you know. I'm sure you don't go around saying We hereby proclaim such-and-such when you're speaking with my dear cousin."

The bark of laughter that leaves Ren's mouth is unexpected and much louder than he meant it to be— both he and Lady Lizabet peer into the abyss, searching for any sign that the noise has disturbed any Ender forces. When nothing happens, he lets the smile return to his face and crosses his arms. "If you continue to refer to us as Your Majesty, we are, of course, expected to reply in kind."

She looks unimpressed. "Sure. All right, Ren."

He feels his teasing smile soften into something a little sweeter. It's been a long time since anyone other than Martyn has called him by name. And she does have a point: they've both seen each other almost too tired for words but still trying to plan on multiple occasions over the past weeks now— occasions where the rest of the war council had already retired for the night, leaving only them to argue strategy. 

He enjoys those discussions with the Shadow Knight— it is there he can see her terrifying reputation is well-founded. (Well, that and when she takes to the sparring ring with Lady Cleo.) Together they have managed to draw up a plan to withstand the coming siege, and it has given him— not optimism, necessarily, but at least some hope for the future. 

"Lady Knight," he says now. "I'm still waiting for an answer to my question. Don't you sleep?"

Her smile, a pale flash in the darkness, is tired. "Not often."

"Yet another thing you and I have in common, I suppose," he comments, leaning on the outer edge of the Wall and peering down into the fathomless depths. "I'm pretty sure the guards out here have worked me into their rotation at this point."

"One can never be too alert, I always say," she says, stepping forward to join him. "Also if I'm calling you by name, I suppose it's only fair you call me by mine. It's Lizzie, among friends."

"Are we? Friends, I mean?" Ren asks, startled. Perhaps there will be a day the Shadow Knight doesn't surprise him, but that day has yet to come. 

"I just said so, didn't I?" She crosses her arms. "Unless you'd rather—"

"No!" he blurts out, rather gracelessly. "I would be glad to be your friend— Lizzie." He trips over the name, stripped of all titles or formality, but the full force of her smile turned on him makes him forget all his hesitation. 

They talk a little while longer— though if someone asked him to recall the conversation, Ren wouldn't have been able to tell them what they spoke of, only that it had happened. He'd paid more attention to Lizzie— her teasing smile, her steadfast belief that the North would survive the Long Night, the way she said his name, like it was nothing out of the ordinary.  

When the sun begins to show her face over the high northern peaks, however, they both realize they ought to at least get some sleep. 

"I'll let thee go," Ren says through a half-restrained yawn. "It's early— or late, rather." 

Lizzie's eyes widen, though only for a moment, as Ren does his best to hold back another yawn. "Well, I hope thou find'st rest for at least a couple hours," she says, and curtsies once before she leaves. 

It is only after she is long gone, and he is back in the comfort of his room for a few short hours, that what he said to her finally registers, and he slumps back against his pillows.

He's a fool— but she responded in kind, at least. She didn't take offense to his horrible lack of manners. 

He'll have to apologize.

…After he gets some sleep.

-o0o-

The opportunity to apologize for running slipshod all over the bounds of propriety never seems to materialize, however, because word comes from the farthest guard towers that there is a storm brewing in the west, and it is rapidly approaching; it will arrive in the next few days, just before the Long Night. Now, Ren isn't worried about the weather (though it's certainly not good) so much as he is what the cloud cover will allow— he knows if he were the Ender commander, and he were mobilizing a force of night-bound creatures, he would jump on the opportunity to strike early immediately. 

The army is readied as fast as they can manage, and Ren is grateful that Lizzie pushed hard against the King and Queen of Faerie's hesitation to send forces in the name of integrating and training together for better defense— if the original plan had been followed, the Faerie force would only just now be arriving, and he has a feeling their defenses would not be so solid as they are currently. 

The howling of the oncoming snowstorm two days later is pierced by the shrieking of phantoms, and the entire fortress braces for what is coming. Ren stands at the top of the keep, armor on and battle-axe in hand. Martyn is down on the lower wall, he knows, though he cannot see him from here. Lady Cleo, the Twice-Lived, is down on the front lines with her infantrymen— Ren can just barely see her in her black armor, towering over everyone. Magister Beans is with the contingent of mages. 

And the Shadow Knight is standing at his side, surveying the field. 

"We ought to be down there," she says, scowling. 

"I will not disagree," he says mildly. "But my Hand might."

"It's silly," she continues, as though he hasn't said anything. 

"Sillier if we both get killed and leave the army leaderless," he points out.

She rounds on him, one eyebrow raised dangerously.

"Lizzie," he says, trying to keep his tone even. "I do not want to be up here away from the fight any more than you do." He glances at the sky again; the snow runs like waves, coming to crash on the shores of the abyss, and he can see the dark shapes of phantoms and their riders swooping in the clouds' shadow. "But I think we will have other things to worry about."

"Thou hast the right of it," she mutters, and reaches for her bow, leaning against her leg. She nocks, sights, and releases, and a phantom goes plummeting down from the sky. 

"Did that mak'st thou feel better?" Ren says, a ghost of a teasing note in his voice. 

"Well, Your Majesty, I did swear to protect thee," she says. "I can do that, at least." 

"Only until the Long Night is over," he says, and he can't lie— there's a heaviness that settles over his heart at the thought. Even if they both survive this siege, she will go back to the Land of Faerie, back to her normal life, before he interrupted it. He's grown accustomed to her presence. He'll have to unlearn those habits. 

Lizzie turns to look at him, lowering her bow, and she surprises him once again. "I'll stay as long as thou wilt have me, Ren," she says, and her voice is grave. 

"And if I ask thee to never leave?"

"Then I won't," she says, simply. "To the death."

"To the death," he agrees.

And they turn to face the oncoming tide.

and that's all, folks! (only a couple days late haha) thank you @faeriefort-daily for organizing this event and putting up the prompt lists! it's been a ton of fun <3

(also on ao3)

[dancrry]

the sheer number of gay people in ofmd makes me so happy. like yes my little pride parade of a tv show!!! i will love it forever!!!!!!

[tallbluelady]

i didn't know people like you existed.

Hear. Feel. Think.

Lucky Apple remembered those words from the story her father told her; the story of what lead him to the cereuleum well and made them lucky.

She found herself floating in a veritable sea of aether. Had she died, and returned to the Living Waters? Only her family believed in them now, the new church peddling salvation in Lightning aspected aether and the blood of the pure.

I am sorry. I'm... I am so very sorry.  That wasn't what Apple was expecting from the Voice of the Waters. Rejoining the Lifestream was to be a joyous event, especially to those waiting for her on the other side.

"Am I not dead then?" Apple asked, realizing she had a voice to speak with, and a body to move with.

"No. But I cannot prevent your death, nor the death of your world," the Voice seemed to center itself in a column of light.

Apple swam over to the light the voice was coming from. It was as easy as swimming in the lake as a child, back when there was still enough water in it to do so. Despite all of Apple's efforts to save what precious water there was left, it was as if all of it was being boiled away.

"I mean, I can't either," she said, trying to comfort the Voice. "I think we would have had to start a lot earlier and with a lot more people to do something like that."

The Voice in the column of light seemed to bend in on itself, almost as if holding back a sob. Was it?

"I am sorry I did not... I am sorry that you are one of the so very few who has heard my plea..." The Voice did sound as if it was holding back tears now. "I tried so long to ignore this world's plight. I cannot interfere. Its fate is set... but I see you. I see all of you and your pain and I wish to stop it. But I can't."

"Why not?" Lucky Apple asked. "Are you not powerful enough to do so?"

"Not if I am to save another," the column straightened, and the Voice took a stronger tone. "Though it may not seem so to you and yours, I am limited in my power to help you. And I must fulfill my mission to the future."

"Oh."

"Oh?" The Voice sounded incredulous. "Well, it's not like the power that the church is peddling is going to stop the world from ending either. At least there's a reason for it all to end. To save another. To save the future. I can accept being a sacrifice for that."

"Not everyone is as willing as you."

Apple shook her head. "No, and they shouldn't be. But... Voice? Actually, what should I call you? I think you're different than the Living Waters."

The light rippled for a moment, and a figure of a woman took shape. "I have many names, and the Living Waters is but one of them. You may continue using it if you wish."

Lucky Apple paused for a moment. The Living Waters had always been... not something person shaped. Occasionally, there were some called to be Its voice but the way it was speaking sounded like it was her God, not the representative...

"Mrs. Waters. I am making a choice to make the world a better place. For everyone that I can. For as long as I can. I've learned that sometimes, you have to let people pout and feel bad, but that doesn't mean that you, yourself, have to feel bad. Most of life isn't what happens to you, it's how you react to it. So I decided to take it as well as I can."

"That is very noble of you," the Living Waters said.

"I don't know how else to be," Apple admitted. "It's either happy or existentially depressed. So I guess I'll focus on the little things I can enjoy while I can."

The Living Waters smiled at her sadly but did not speak. 

Apple smiled back. "So... if I'm not dead... why am I here?"

"Ah... I... I did not assume there were any to hear my call on your world left. That you had ears to hear is a blessing."

"I'm a blessing?"

The Living Waters laughed, of all things. "Lucky Apple, you are by far one of the greatest blessings I've had in a long time. Someone who can see happiness, even in the darkness that comes to swallow her world and her life... it gives me hope for the future. And I need more and more of it as my enemies continue to grow in power."

"Oh!" Apple beamed at that.

"I suppose... I would ask you what you want from this encounter. What would make it easier for you to carry your light through the darkness, to help you ease the suffering of others?"

Apple put a hand to her chin at that. What would make it easier for her to continue on as the Living Waters wanted?

"You'll remember us, right?" Lucky Apple asked. "That we lived?"

"I will. Your souls will join the Great Lifestream of other worlds as well, so your very souls won't be lost either."

"Oh, neat! That's great. Uh. While that does make it easier... I, uh..."

"Is there anything specific that you want remembered?"

"My earring," Lucky Apple blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind.

"Your earring?" The Living Waters tilted her head, then put a hand over her mouth.

"It's, ah, I know it's..." Apple was blushing and sputtering. Why would she have that be the thing to be remembered?

"My child, I can say for a certainty that your earring will be remembered, and will bring hope to the future."

"Really, you can do that? It won't hurt the future?"

The Living Waters gave Apple a wink. "It is already written. For the hope you have given me, I shall make sure that your glass pumpkin earring is carried through to the next world."

Thanks for the prompt!

[pardonmydelays]

if you were a movie what kind of genre would it be?

probably a comedy because my life is a fucking joke

no, but seriously, i love this question! i think i'd be a mix of a musical and horror. actually, i'd love to be a sung-through story about ghosts! (and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that i am kinda obsessed with ghost quartet lately btw. i just think being a ghost would be fun, i could scare people i don't like.)

[quietferns]

turns out coloring is the problem

digital redraw/doodle of this drawing i did in 2020! (excuse the anatomy)

[heartsofhounds]

long runs the fox

…but at last, he is caught.

(Click for better quality!)

-

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST! Reblogs appreciated!

[welcometogrouchland]

Getting back into comics is fun. Minus the Getting Back Into Comics part of it all

[risingsunresistance]

i love minecraft body language