#world map wood wall decor

[ofthewoodwork]

Improve Your Space with Of the Woodwork World Map Wood Wall Decor

Our area of expertise at Of the Woodwork is designing 3D wooden maps that both act as functional art pieces and discussion starters. Our collection includes complex designs that faithfully depict the geography of the world.

[pherelesytsia]

Who did this to you? - 5

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing, wounds,

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Faint, scarcely perceptible footsteps resounded throughout the mansion. The world was remote, and the storm had ceased, had travelled across the land, but ruled with an iron fist in her mind. Y/N couldn't find peace, needed a map, a guide to find the trail through the endless labyrinth of greyed memories.

Yellowish shades dimmed the vibrant light of the two lamps in the far corners of the richly decorated room. The walls of wood were silent, did not speak nor chant a forgotten tale of wrath and destruction. Her eyes did not search for the enemy, was safe in the unknown. The heavy curtains touched, forbid curious gazes to fall upon the woman dressed in the tattered and torn garment. The heavy coat caring the smell of alcohol and cigarettes protected her skin painted in wicked colours, deep shades of purple and blue with a hint of greenness, a deep tone of algae swaying in the depths of a raging torrent running wild across the emotionless face of the mountain.

Closing her eyes, Y/N rested her head on the pillow, leaned back, busied herself with her fingers, and played with the hem of the holey fabric covering her frame sparsely. The urge to cover herself, hide to aching wounds, the marks of a fight with the too large coat, at least a dozen of sizes, did not exist. Gazing at the door, she wondered if it was a wicked dream, but steps echoed and Y/N remembered Alfie left to fetch a first aid kit from another room.

Realisation hit her like a wave, a ripple swallowing ships, lonely islands, knew she was safe, and calmness flooded her body and mind. Not a word, not a single prayer, nor a complaint crossed her lips. Memories had fled, failed to overcome the high walls of defence protecting the building, failed to push open the door and shatter the windows.

Floral vines adorned the teapot on the round, dark wooden table. The calmness of his eyes healed the wounds. A friendly, almost encouraging smile graced his lips, partly shielded by the thick, dark beard. The scent of lavender rose and banished the stench of copper lingering in the air into oblivion. Steam was rising from the bowl in his possession. Swiftly, Alfie entered the room and attempted to prevent the warm liquid from spilling over the edge. The dimmed light caressed his features, but fear was beyond the layer of confidence, but Y/N couldn't see it, the fear, agony, and pain.

The hat was missing, revealing tousled hair in the same shade as the freshly trimmed beard. The top buttons of the button-down were undone, like the buttons of the waistcoat. He placed the white ceramic bowl with a golden frame on the table next to the teacup, followed by a bottle of transparent liquid. Alfie didn't push her, didn't ask questions, assumed what had happened, had read the answer her misty eyes carried. He laid the blanket slung around his shoulder on the floor within reach, followed by the first aid kit he had dropped a few times, and dragged the table back. Striding towards the sofa, he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up until the material was above his elbows, accentuating his masculine upper arms. Critically, Y/N eyed him, had heard too much about the ruthless man, but she doubted the accuracy of the unforgettable tales laced in terror, questioned the words, and thought the man was not the feared Alfie Solomons.

Desperately Y/N searched for a way out. Her eyes widened in horror, stared at the man standing right in front of her on the red carpet with the fine black embroidery. His hands were clean, clear of dirt, the marks of a struggle. He dropped to his knees. Flinching she leaned back, pressed herself against the soft material, but she couldn’t escape him. Tears were clouding her vision. He was too close far too close and he placed his hand on her knee, touched her skin in a reassuring gesture, telling her to calm down, not to fear, that everything was alright.

            "May I?" Alfie asked.

An answer was needless, superfluous, wouldn't allow Y/N to close her eyes to find a moment of peace with untreated wounds.

            "You are safe, Y/N/N. I won't call anyone; you can stay as long as you need to heal but it's a matter of time before your husband will search for you and find you.” he breathed.

Bitterly Y/N laughed, was applying pressure to her aching side, didn’t trust her ears, couldn't believe what the man was saying.

            "You foolishly think Thomas is going to set out to find me? Why would he do that?", "He's your husband," Alfie said.

The words sounded plausible, the most obvious thing in the world but not to Y/N. Ashamed, she lowered her gaze and listened to her thoughts, but she couldn’t pronounce the words laying heavy on her heart, unable to say how unhappy she was in the marriage, was longing for love, yearning for someone to let her know she was loved and missed. Alfie wrapped himself in silence, said nothing, watched over the breaking woman, accepted the silence, and moved closer to the edge of the sofa. Wordless the man turned, faced the table, set the ceramic bowl on the floor beside him and dipped a cloth into the warm water.

            "I'm going to undress you." the words shattered the silence.

A cold shiver travelled down her spine and shadows formed into faceless creatures, but they all were grinning, laughing, and dancing around the fire feasting on the wood.

            "Do you think you can undress? If not, I can help you.” Alfie continued.

She did not answer, couldn't, and pressed her lips into a fine line.

            "I wouldn't dare touch you." he clarified.

Faint rivers of crimson escaped the freshly torn open wounds of her lower lip. Self-hatred pulled her into the depths of the sea, hating herself for not being able to speak, for not telling him to finally rip the soaked dress from her skin, free her from her suffering, needed to be naked, didn’t need to be reminded of how weak she was, was a mere woman incapable of defending herself like a boxer facing the opponent in the ring.

            "And not because you are the Shelby's wife, but you are a woman and should be treated as one. I will treat your wounds. Afterwards, I will cook you some food and tea. In the meantime, when you eat, I will set up a bedroom. And as I said, you can stay as long as you need." Alfie explained in a calm voice.

Water dripped and darkened the carpet.

            “I'll wash the dirt and grime off your body and I have got you a shirt and a pair of trousers,” he added.

Patiently the man waited, remained calm, and clasped his hands in a praying gesture on his lap. Y/N consented, had never exposed herself, and he sensed it. She stiffened under his gentle touch. His fingers were rough, seemed as if he had worked his entire life in the depths of the woodland. Like a doll on a thread, a marionette Y/N rose as Alfie demanded it. Heat rose into her cheeks. The clock was ticking. With a thud, the heavy cloak fell from her shoulders and shaped into a pile next to the dark-coloured sofa. The fabric tore. Coldness feasted on her flesh. He undid the brown buttons of the dress, loosened the belt around her waist, and stepped back. Slowly, as if he feared the answer, his eyes slid over her battered body and almost shyly, as if he had never touched a woman, he freed her arms from the dress. Her breasts and intimate area were covered.

The light was not dim enough to make them unseen, to erase them. Like an eagle circling the fields in search of food, he followed the strange trail across her torso, witnessed wounds worse than discolouration's and huffed angered as his gaze fell on the marks around her calves. Marks coiled around her arms, telling a story, letting him know she was being held against her will, forced to stay. Her hands were maltreated, lightly stained with blood, had tried to defend herself from the voracious hands of men. His warm breath brushed her skin. Narrowing her eyes, she remembered who stood before her, but she did not trust the words resounding in her head like a melody. From his trouser pocket, he took out a hair tie, pushed her hair, framing her face like a heavy iron curtain away, and tied it into a loose ponytail at the back of her head. Wordlessly, Alfie pushed her down onto the sofa and lowered himself in front of Y/N, knelt, and inspected the wounds her body bore. He turned to the table and filled two glasses with the very strong liquid. The stench of alcohol filled her nostrils. Y/N wrinkled her face in contempt and turned away.

            "Here drink,” Alfie said.

Brows touched.

            "Seriously, it will help you, believe me," he explained.

Hesitantly, Y/N accepted the glass and guided it to her mouth, but before she could put her lips on the glass, she gagged. Disgusted Y/N turned away, had to collect herself, and she gathered strength, and emptied it. Wrinkles deepened. The taste befuddled her senses, filling her mouth and numbing her tongue. Goosebumps spread over her body like an unstoppable wave. Alfie dipped his fingers into the warm water in the white bowl with the golden frame, took out the cloth, wrung it out and carefully washed her right leg, removing the mud glued to her feet.

            "Do you want to talk about it?", "You don't have to talk about it, but it will do you good," Alfie interjected, sliding his hand carefully over her leg.

Washing the traces of the fight away, he apologised, raised the cloth as he accidentally brushed across open flesh. Gingerly the cloth glided over her body, swept over her calf, but no lust lingered in his eyes, filled with anger and worry, and the very first thing he planned to do during the early hours of the next day was to figure out who had caused the harm.

            "What about your husband?" Alfie asked.

            "If he were my loving husband, then I wouldn't lie on your sofa, covered in blood and grime. He would take care of me instead of you." Y/N whispered, not trusting her voice.

The wood worked, creaked, and sang out.

            "What are you going to do when he calls you?", "What should I do?" he asked.

Pain welled in her eyes, smiled faintly, remembered the unforgettable, the days when he didn't even dignify her with a glance and the touches cold as the unforgiving north, icy and emotionless.

            "Nothing, don't answer the call or say you don't know where I am. I'm sure you'll find a good lie. I can't and don't want to see him." Y/N replied gruffly, couldn't imagine meeting her husband's eyes even in her wildest dreams, knew she would collapse like a house of cards under his stern gaze.

            "Why?" Alfie questioned. "If I had a wife, I would search every house, every forest, and not stop until I find her," Alfie replied.

She was speechless, swallowed, but couldn't swallow the ever-growing lump in her throat.

            "He doesn't love me. He forgot. I waited. He promised to pick me up, but he wasn't there. Thomas was not there to protect me.", "Do you love him?" he questioned.

Do I love him, Y/N wondered.

            "Yes, but he makes it impossible for me to love him. I fell for him when we met. He looked at me differently than the other men who asked my father for my hand in marriage. They all wanted one thing, money, power, wealth, a name many people know, but with him, I had the feeling that he loves me. Me and not the money and all that goes with it, because a Shelby doesn't need even more money. He has everything, money, wealth, all these things a heart desires, and I thought he loved me, but I'm sure he didn't even notice that I am not home, that I disappeared." Y/N breathed.

She was not ashamed of the tears, let them fall.

            "And it's only a matter of time before he finds someone else, someone who can give him what I can't, someone who can satisfy his cravings. Bless him with an heir. A good-looking woman worthy to rule at his side over his empire." Y/N couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't force herself to end it.

            "Why would I do such a thing?" a dark voice asked.

Water dripped down, slid down the darkened coat. The shirt was soaked. The strands of dark hair, dark as nightfall, stuck to his face. His eyes were bloodshot. How long Thomas had been standing in the doorway, Y/N did not know, but she sensed he had heard everything, all the words, the fears and concerns loud and clear, but she was not ashamed of the words escaping her heart.

TagList:

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[thebekerslegecy]

👑 MEDIEVAL MODS + CC | The BEKER LEGECY

I am currently playing Morbid’s ULTIMATE Decades Challenge. Below is a list of all of the Mods + CC I am using in my game🐝

🍯 MODS: Wicked Whims (+18) MC Command Center MC Woohoo More Traits in CAS Royalty Mod Medieval Interactions Ye Olde Cookbook + Stoves +Fires Require Wood  + Hunting & Foraging Mod Home Region +Townie Demographics by Kuttoe Fashion Authority 2 by Lot51 Functional Broom Functional Loom Functional Pottery Wheel Archery Skill Blacksmithing Skill Historical Simolean Override - English Shillings Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything Playable Harp + Lute Functional Horses & Carriages, No Helmet Create Campfire Bonfire Anywhere Arranged Marriages Custom Farm Animals Purchase Custom Animals Zero’s Historical Mods (pickpocket, disease, etc.) Phone to Notebook Replacement Sippy Cup + Toys Default Replacements Stuff for Pets Natural Knitting Stuff PreTeen LittleMsSam Mods ( Pick what you want) Sims4me

🐝 CC:

🍯Build:

TSR Ye Medieval - Ligna Windows Set TSR Ye Medieval - Timber Frame Walls TSR Ye Medieval - Framework Walls TSR - Broken Wood Door TSR Ye Medieval - Soil Terrain TSR Ye Medieval - Hay Ground Terrain

🐝Objects:

Lili’s Palace - Folklore Set No. 1 Linzlu’s Frontier Items TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 1 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 2 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 3 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 4 TRS Ye Medieval - Tristan Bathroom TSR Ye Medieval - Tavern Part 1 TSR Ye Medieval - Candle Holder TSR - Skara Stool TSR - The Old Garden Boat TSR - The Old Garden Quay Fish Market Decor Fish Rack Fish Crate V1 Fish Crate V2 Bohrium Vegetables I Old Rustic Well (“Eco Living” version) Stable Set by Moriel Rustic Animal Shed Rustic Chicken Coop Rustic Bee Box Bassinet + Infant Crib SimsHistoricalfinds tumblr (directory) SIMS 4 MEDIEVAL CC TheSenseMedieval Allhistorical cc tumblr Medieval & Fantasy Mods List | Notion Kosmic Hippie's CC Finds — 👑 MEDIEVAL MODS + CC | The Sims 4 antiquated plumbobs : Directory CC Finds Navigation

🍯CAS:

TheSimsResource (Ye Medieval) TheSimsResource (Sifix) Simverses  Melancholy Maiden | creating Historical Sims 4 CC | Patreon satterlly | creating The Sims 4 CC | Patreon

🐝 SAVE FILE:

Srsly’s Blank Save Map Replacement Medieval Windenburg Medieval Map Replacement

🍯MY SIMS 4 MEDIEVAL WORLDS:

How to change sims4 world names (for existing save) How to change sims4 world names ( for new save)

Kingdom of France – Willow Creek’ Mali Empire – Oasis Springs’ Kingdom of Norway – Newcrest’ Inca Empire – Granite Falls’ Holy Roman Empire – Windenburg’ Kingdom of Denmark– Magnolia Promenade’ Republic of Genoa – San Myshuno’ Kingdom of Hungary – Forgotten Hollow’ Grand Duchy of Lithuania – Brindleton Bay’ Aztec Empire – Selvadorada’ Kingdom of Sicily – Del Sol Valley’ Ottoman Empire – StrangerVille’ Hawai’i – Sulani’ Kingdom of Scotland- Glimmerbrook’ Duchy of Milan – Brightchester’ Maya city-states – Evergreen Harbor’ Tatooine– Batuu’ Goryeo– Mt. Komorebi’ Kingdom of England – Henford-on-Bagley’ Republic of Venice– Tartosa’ Duchy of Burgundy – Moonwood Mill’ Kingdom of Aragon – Copperdale’ Mongol Empire – San Sequoia’ Mamluk Sultanate – Chestnut Ridge’ Kingdom of Ayutthaya – Tomarang’ Kingdom of Castile - Ciudad Enamorada

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Want to say thank you to @lovelivingmydreams not only for being my beta, but actually transforming my simple draft into this beautiful story

Chapter 1: The arch mage's tower

Next

Summary: When investigating the dissapearance of the arch mage, a trio of mages stumble upon a long kept secret that will throw their lives into complete dissaray.

The tower of the arch mage was old, abandoned and yet still breathtakingly majestic.

Moss and vines were creeping up the stone weeds had overrun the once pristinely kept front yard. But stainglass whindows, while covered in dust, still held gorgeous art pieces depicting mind boggling feats. The collored tiles on the damaged roof had faded but still held their eye catching pattern.

The reason it was in such a sorry state is because it’s owner had disappeared nearly 30 years ago. None had dared to enter it for fear of the dangers it might hold.

But finally the consulate had produced three mages powerful and brave enough to face the dangers and discover what had happened.

Arch Mage Noctora had been the most powerful mage to ever grace the magical community. He was an icon, a true legend.

Someone who sacrificed his own health to research the most dangerous brands of magic and teach the magical world about the horrid consequences of dark magic and did whatever he could to protect the public from it’s evils.

Potentially his kindness had finally cost him his life.

Today three of his adherents stood in front of his tower, barely containing their excitement.

They felt truly blessed to be given the honor to enter the great Mage’s home, it was a boyhood dream come true.

“Here we are. About to set eyes on the sanctum of the wisest man to ever wield magic,” the mage dressed in blue robes dotted with silver stars mused.

“The bravest man in recent history,” the man in red robes adorned with golden flowers agreed.

“The kindest soul to grace this planet,” the last of them, wearing lighter blue robes embroidered with bronze animal footprints, sighed.

The trio had been friends ever since they could remember and had been excited to find they all passed the test to find magical potential getting them all a place at the school for magic. And ever since first hearing about the Arch Mage and his great deeds they all agreed they’d be just as great one day.

When they learned off the mystery of his disappearance they wanted nothing more than to be the ones to find him. And now, it seemed that that dream would truly come true.

“Well, no mystery has ever been solved by just standing around. Let’s go!” the red mage insisted, leading the way across the overgrown path, frowning a little bit at the types of plants growing there. They carefully made their way up the stairwell, passing living quarters without a second glance. Agreeing that those should be left for last, and only if the study yielded absolutely no answers.

When they came to the study, they found a right mess. The walls were covered in cabinets and shelves and all were overly full, crates were strewn across the floor also overflowing with trinkets and herbs and scrolls and all sorts of things.

The cleanest place was the desk surprisingly. It stood there covered in dust near the one window in the room. A burnt out candle on the right hand side, along with a dried up inkwell, a mostly finished map an open box with herbs and a verry deliberately closed box right in the middle that pretty much sang “I am important look at me”.

It looked verry old, the wood had a crack running across the length of the lid which was once intricately decorated, but the chipped paint and the rusted chains made it hard to really see what the decoration was meant to represent.

Clearly this was the last thing that had held the arch mage’s attention in this tower, which meant it could be a vital clue to their quest.

The trio looked at each other and gave a determined nod. They had to know what was inside.

Of course the box looked very suspicious and chains rarely meant anything good so they opted to try a hands off method first.

Which meant Logan, in his stary blue robe, stepped forward and used his divination magic to tell him what they would find.

The box glowed blue and then elegant blue letters appeared in the air above it.

“Essence of the mage of a thousand lives,” Logan read out loud.

“Why are these things always so vague?” The red mage sighed impatiently.

Logan ignored his friend and frowned. “Mage of a thousand lives… That has to be the arch mage. It probably refers to the thousands of lives he saved. And essence… The essence of what he was doing…? One thing is for sure. This has to hold a clue. We have to open it no matter the danger. There is far to much to be gained here!” Logan stated determinedly.

“Wow, that was quick,” Patton, their martial caster in light blue, giggled. “Can I?” he offered. His friends both made room for him. He took a breath, focused and with a swift symbol in the air and a focused push towards the box the chains snapped and fell to the side.

Roman, their redclad herbalist stepped forward and opened the box to find a white powder. A lot of it actually. He held it in the light, a bit annoyed at the stained glass window right now.

As an herbalist he could recognize most herbs, minerals and even most finished medicine and potions with just a quick look. But not if the only light he was offered was filtered through reds and greens and blues. Nevermind, he could probably rule out most things by the texture, though he kept a cleansing spell ready just in case it turned out toxic to touch…

The second he ran his fingers through it though he wanted to throw the box away.

The box held no herbs, no minerals, no. Roman knew what these were.

Ashes.

Them being kept in such a box told him that these couldn’t possibly be remnants of burning herbs either. Which meant animal or even more disturbing human remains were in here.

The very act of making such a thing was considered practicing dark magic.

The Arch Mage had banned certain brands of magic or ingredients for the safety of their casters.

Such as changing your body to enhance it or to resemble someone else, both on ethical grounds and the fact that such changes could do irreparable damage to you in the long run.

Animal shifting was allowed so long as these were non magical creatures, again trying to encapsulate the primal magic of such creatures was incredibly dangerous.

The practice of chronomancy was ended mostly because it always required some form of ashes to be used.

Ashes, among other pieces of an animal or human were forbidden.

Anything that lives contains mana, that’s where the magic comes from. And that mana does not perish with the body. When it comes to animals and even certain plants, unleashing that mana by using it in a spell was dangerous. Weak minded mages had lost limbs trying to use a fishbone. The corruption it caused could be lethal!

That was what the Arch Mage’s research had unveiled. That was how he compiled a list of ingredients that were too harmful to the body to be considered to be used.

That was what had weakened his health. What possibly caused his demise.

Roman shook his hand desperately trying to get the ashes off, setting off his cleansing spell.

He felt a tingling sensation, almost warm and pleasant, spread across his fingers. Oh no. Oh no the ashes were reacting to his magic, he was activating the mana…

“We need to get rid of it!” he yelled closing the box and sprinting towards the stairs, whatever he’d just done, he couldn’t let it go off in an enclosed space near his friends.

“What is it!?” his friends called after him sounding confused.

“Ashes!” Roman called heading down the stairs, praying he wouldn’t fall down.

“Sweet stars above, let me survive this,” he whispered under his breath as he almost tripped on the last step and headed outside. The flowers, the ashes could go and fertilize the flowers.

He kicked open the door and shook out the box, watching with a breath of relief as the wind caught them and kindly spread them amongst the flowers.

He was catching his breath as he heard his friends join him.

He tossed the box to the side and let out a laugh. Well he had never gone through so many emotions in such a short amount of time.

“Roman, your hands,” he heard Patton say, his voice soft and trembling with worry.

Roman caught his friend’s eyes and then followed their horrified gaze.

There was still ash on his hand and it was glowing purple.

“Nope, no. I don’t want to hold onto you, go!” he pleaded, shaking his hand again.

He felt a strange pull on his hand toward the field, he let it guide him and watched with horrified fascination as the field where the ashes had landed was alit with a same glow.

What was going on?

A new gust of wind, this one definitely not natural whipped around them and made the ashes rise up in the air in a cloud it spun around and around and Roman felt his hand being pulled forward, in his shock he was powerless to stop himself from following until he was in the middle of it. Roman didn’t like this. The cloud felt alive, he could feel it connecting to him, little specks of his own signature red magic appearing in the purple shine. No. No this was definitely too much magic for him to play with. He was cocky, not crazy.

Roman finally got his bearings and made to step away from the mass, losing his balance in the process and falling backwards. As he looked up he was just in time to see the process come to a close. With a mighty cry that shook Roman and his friends to his core a majestic bird they’d only ever seen pictures off spread it’s wings where the ashes had been. It had gorgeous purple feathers and it looked absolutely heartbreakingly beautiful backlit by the afternoon sun.

“Is that…” Logan whispered.

“It has to be,” Patton agreed.

Roman was at a loss for words. The creature looked down upon him as the last bits of magic faded away, little sparks of red and purple disappearing at last and then it glided towards him and landed on his chest. Amethyst eyes judging him severely.

What the heck?

[hey-august]

I'll Be Your Whatever - Chapter 3

Story Description: Life is full of all sorts of characters - some who come and go, and others that stay. After propelling yourself into a lie you can't (won't) take back, a certain pirate captain may have a reason to come by more often. (Chapter 1, Chapter 2) Word count: ~2.2k Warnings: SFW, some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader. No use of Y/N. Brief argument, mention of a deceased family member. A/N: Sorry this took a bit - I got in my head with writing it, but I think we're back on track! Tag list: @rorywritesjunk @ane5e @venulus

The title comes from "your whatever" by lovelytheband.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

With Buggy in town, you felt comfortable leaving home for the first time in days. Although you two had to work out this “relationship,” at least that was the next step. There were still unknowns and uncertainty, but also hope.

After agreeing to write up a contract over lunch, you excused yourself for a moment to run upstairs and put on clothes that hadn’t been slept in. Thankfully you kept an acceptable standard of hygiene during your isolation, so all you needed was to put on a fresh outfit, shake out your hair, and brush your teeth. You bounded back downstairs in record time and walked into the kitchen. The empty kitchen.

A wooden door leading out of the room was open. You tried to ignore the feelings bubbling in your chest as you peered through the open doorframe and found your visitor.

Buggy was inside, looking at a ship in a bottle. The desire to snatch the item from his presumptuous hold dissolved when you noticed how cautious the pirate was. He held the glass trinket with surprising delicacy, rotating the bottle to see the ship from all angles.

Even though he was a guest in your house, you gently knocked on the door to announce your presence. Buggy glanced over his shoulder and returned the decoration to the wood desk it previously sat on. Well, his hands did. Just his hands, while his body turned to face you. You watched silently, your thoughts retracing their steps as they tried to fall in line with the information your eyes sent over. The puzzled look on your face was met with a grin - the kind where only one person knows the punchline to a joke.

“The Oro Jackson,” Buggy commented, acting oblivious to your confusion. “Belongs to your dad?”

“Yeah…it did. He was a big fan of pirates.” 

Buggy held in a wince at the past-tense. He forgot that you said something similar about the map. Belonged.

You continued explaining. “He wanted to become one, to see the world. He even had plans to join a crew, but that changed when my mom got pregnant.”

“Tch, what a sap.” Buggy’s remark collapsed into a mumble under the look you threw at him.

“Instead, he began collecting.” You gestured around the room. Aside from your supplies and artwork on the mahogany desk, the rest of the room was filled by your father. Pirate artifacts, nautical knick-knacks, and faraway souvenirs were displayed on nearly every shelf, shoved between similar themed books, with more items hidden inside the cabinets. Anything that didn’t fit on a horizontal surface was attached to the wall. “He couldn’t see the world firsthand, so he did the best he could.” 

In your absence, Buggy had swept as much of the room as possible but didn’t find anything of high value. Nothing worth pocketing to sell later. Most of the Jolly Rogers and insignias on the artifacts weren’t from anyone special. There were framed maps on the walls, but they were generic land maps.

“What about you? Ever get tired of this place?” Buggy's question was spurred by the paintings littered across the desk. Most of them were of landscapes. Depictions of distant places filled with grand mountains, emerald forests, humid mangroves, murky swamps, and more.

“Mm-mmh, my dad watched from the sidelines so I could have the life I do. I can’t throw it away.” 

You walked over to the shelves near the desk and reached for the second highest shelf. Sandwiched between two tomes was a red book that was just a tad too far. Even on tiptoes, you could only graze the linen edging and weren’t able to hook the spine and drag the book closer. Huffing out a breath, you tried and failed to conjure a few extra centimeters. You settled back on your heels and thought about climbing the shelves like you did when you were younger. And smaller. They wouldn’t hold you now, but maybe you could get enough of a boost. 

While you were still considering that theory, a lone hand floated to the shelf to grab the red book. Underestimating the weight of the other books, the entire stack was pulled forwards and teetered on the edge. You threw up your hands, either to catch them or to keep them from falling on your head. Instead, you were yanked back so Buggy could step in and push the books back into place with a stubbed forearm.

Buggy let loose a dramatic sigh and recalled his hands to use them both to pull down the red book. He lazily dropped the book onto the desk, knocking loose a few paintbrushes. You bit your lip as the brushes clattered to the floor. It would have been nicer if he didn’t fuck around with your things, but he did just help you out. At least everything on the desk was dry.

“Thanks,” you said while flipping the book open. The paint brushes could wait.

“Of course, sweetheart. Good thing you had a big, strong man around.” 

“I could have gotten it myself.” The muttered words were nearly lost in the breeze from fluttering pages as you thumbed through the book. Nearly.

“Say again?” Buggy said through his teeth, leaning down to invade your space. 

You glanced at the pirate to assess the unsaid threat. He still maintained a forced smile, an expression you’ve seen often enough that you felt it signaled some level of safety. You started to turn away when Buggy slammed a fist on the desk hard enough to rattle the drawers and send more items to the wood floor. The only mask on his face now was the painted one. The ocean in his eyes was dark and stormy, the usual mischievous glint dimmed by a tempest.

“You think you could do this alone?” Buggy asked in a low voice. Rejection held him tight and whispered in his ear, saying he didn’t deserve to be treated like something useless.

A tremble stopped your response. The words fell apart as intimidation settled in your chest. He was still a stranger. A pirate. Maybe you would have been better off handling this yourself. Thoughts filled the darkness in your mind with momentary flashes like fireflies, but none stuck around. Blindly, you reached out and grabbed one.

“Yes, but no… I don’t-” You sighed. The thought you held was half-formed and unready to take flight.

“Whatever,” Buggy said dismissively. He played along with this ruse for too long and it wasn’t worth all the effort. Knocking on the desk with a gloved fist, he straightened up and tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves. “I think this show’s cancelled.”

Buggy turned to leave but a hand on his arm stopped him. You leaned over the desk to hold onto the only lifeline within reach. Fingers dug into the meat of his arm - you weren’t clinging to the fabric of his coat, but to him. 

“I need help.” Yes - you could have gotten the book yourself. You could pull yourself out of this mess alone. But that doesn’t mean it would be easy. Shelves could snap and books could fall. You could fall. “I can do things on my own, but I don’t want to do this alone. Please, don’t go.”

The plea stopped the pirate’s escape. Buggy studied your face, contemplating his next steps and whether he should continue with this improv workshop. He liked hearing you beg him to stay, but that wasn’t enough. Pulling out of your hold, Buggy clapped his hands and licked his lips.

“Show me the map. Maybe I could be convinced to stay.” 

Buggy chuckled as you gaped at him, desperation fading from your face. It wasn’t an unexpected request, but you still felt nervous. He was unpredictable.

As if he could read your thoughts, Buggy spoke up. “C’moooon, you can trust me. I could have done this all differently and had the map by now. I’m being nice, a team player.” His voice was anything but kind, but there was truth in his statement. In a twisted way, the truth felt like his way of being kind.

“Why? I’ll show you, but why are you doing this?” The question stung as you asked, but you would have succumbed to the poison if you held onto it.

Buggy shrugged. “I’m curious to see what happens. Plus, you could learn a thing or two from a real performer.” He flourished towards himself and winked. The compulsion Buggy felt must be curiosity. A passing interest.

You bit your lip and nodded, sure he wouldn’t elaborate further. It took some convincing, but you shooed Buggy out of the room and back into the kitchen. Showing him the map was one thing, but letting him see where it was kept was different. Once the door was closed, you traipsed around the room and opened a few drawers and cabinets at random. Shuffling papers and clunking books added to the distractions.

A few minutes later, you opened the door and invited Buggy back into the room. The parchment shook slightly as you held it aloft for him to observe. Both of you ignored the tremor. Buggy pinched the map between his pointer and thumb before dragging a finger along an unseen trail. You listened to the soft rasp of the glove against the old dry paper. The pirate was focused, intent on assessing the reward. 

The color of his eyes shifted between blue and green as they traveled the map. Long eyelashes danced with the movement. A glint in his face paint caught your attention - the blue diamonds that stretched from the crossbones on his forehead down to his cheeks shimmered.

The paint wasn’t crisp. The edges were smudged and feathered. Not on his bulbous nose though, the appendage was a different shade of red and looked real. Like really real and not part of his clowny attire. He had a unique nose and while it did stand out, it didn’t detract. If anything, it enhanced his features positively, drawing your attention across his face. From his stubbled cleft chin, to the smile lines that were almost always present, the blue hair peeking from his bandana, and back to his eyes. Which were looking back at you.

“What’re you staring at?” Buggy snipped, anticipating you’d give the answer everyone else gives. Some cheap shot about his fucking nose. What he didn’t expect was you would simply say you were looking at him. “What about me? My no-”

“Your eyes,” you rushed to say, seeing the anger bubble up again. “The colors were changing in the light. I like- They’re pre-...You have nice eyes.” A warmth crept up your neck and tickled your cheeks. You felt self-conscious talking about his eyes while they were looking into yours. Nervous. As if you were about to fall into the depths of the ocean.

“Anyways, that’s enough with the map. I should put it away.” 

Stepping back from the pirate, you rolled up the paper and hustled him back out of the room. When he moved too slowly, reluctant to part from the future treasure, you swatted him on the shoulder. Once you were alone in the room, you repeated the charade from earlier and put the map back in a different location. Then you took an extra moment to rub your cheeks, hoping to massage away the lingering heat. Finally exiting the room, you asked your companion if he was ready for lunch.

Buggy responded with a drawn-out groan and flapped his arms. “It’s about time, I thought I was going to die from starvation.” 

The theatrics brought out a smile and you shook your head amusedly. “Alright honey, let’s get you some food. My treat.”

“Lucky me! Maybe this isn’t such a bad deal, getting wine and dine’d. Rum and yum. Beer and…cheer.” Buggy chattered like an excited toddler as he followed you through the house and back to the front door. He couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but he could hear the huffs of laughter with each quip he spouted.

It wasn’t until the door closed with a thud that Buggy thought back to the book you had been intent on retrieving. It seemed so important to you at the moment, only to be forgotten after it kicked off the first fight you two had a as a “couple.” Interested in knowing whether the book actually held any importance, Buggy asked what you were looking for.

“Oh, devil fruit! Your hands, right?” You held up your own and rotated your wrists, pleased at the impressed look on Buggy’s face. “That book referenced old diaries and there was an entry about devil fruit. It didn’t have a lot of information, but mentioned that they have weird side effects, like turning people into animals and stuff, or giving unusual powers. So I thought…”

You trailed off, realizing how quickly you had been speaking. Buggy was still walking next to you, with a strange expression on his face. It looked like pride. Not directed towards you, but himself.

“Ooh, so my sweetie is a book nerd. You’re smart. I ate the chop-chop fruit,” Buggy boasted. He stretched out his body, disconnecting numerous joints and sections before reassembling.

A revealing trick that was often met with unpleasant surprise and shock was met with excitement and interest this time. You grabbed Buggy’s arm and pulled back the cuff of his sleeve to look at his wrist. There were no marks and you couldn’t even feel anything odd.

Your touch was light and delicate. Unexpected, but not entirely uncomfortable. Buggy’s jaw tensed as he resisted the urge to pull away, wanting to soak in your admiration a little longer.

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR → A BLAZE OF HORROR

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 3.3k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

a/n: we're nearing the end of season 2! many exciting things to come :)

Sunshine landed on the ground with a light thud as she let go of the rope they had fastened to Billy Hargrove’s stolen car. She found herself inside one section of tunnel that she’d been staring at in drawing form on the walls of Will’s Byers home. The temperature dropped upon entrance, causing her to shiver and pull her jacket closer to her body. She adjusted her goggles over her eyes and made sure the bandana tied around her nose and mouth was secure as she waited for everyone else to drop down into the tunnel after her. 

The tunnels looked like they stretched for miles in a terrible darkness that was only made worse by the cut of flashlights. Particles floated in the air, resembling ash, and vines decorated the walls and floor. 

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered under his breath as he landed beside Sunshine and took in their new surroundings. 

Once all of the kids were there, Mike took the lead with a drawn map in his hands that he had made between the chaos at the Byers. “I’m pretty sure it’s this way,” he said. 

“You’re pretty sure or are you certain?” Dustin asked. 

Mike sighed and Sunshine was sure he rolled his eyes somewhere under his goggles. “I’m one hundred percent sure. Just follow me and you’ll know.” He began to walk down the tunnel but was promptly stopped by Steve snatching the map from the kid’s grasp. “Hey!” Mike tried to object. 

“I don’t think so.” Steve held the map high enough that Mike couldn’t grab it. “If any of you little shits down here, we’re getting blamed. From here on out, Sunshine and I are leading the way.” If they couldn’t stop the kids from doing something stupidly dangerous, then they had to lead the way into danger. 

The kids seemed almost unsure of Steve’s authority, and all looked to Sunshine like she was supposed to make the final call. Of course, she agreed with Steve, so she nodded her head, and they all didn’t put up an argument. Then they were off. 

As they ventured through the tunnel, drenched in the cold and strange air, Sunshine was struck with Deja vu. The tunnels felt awfully similar to when she and Nancy had crawled through a small gateway in the woods that placed them inside the Upside Down. 

The other, terrible world infected Hawkins like a disease. The tunnels stretched for miles, according to Will’s map, underneath the outskirts of the town and threatened to reach the residents unless El closed the Gate and stopped it from spreading. Sunshine couldn’t imagine the kind of hysteria that would come from the people of Hawkins if they were exposed to the Upside Down, the Demogorgons, and the Mind Flyer. 

And it was up to them to keep that from happening and keep the world from ending, which seemed wildly unfair. Yet, there was no time or space for them to refute their position, no matter how bad of shape they were in. 

All of the events of the night, good and terrible, weighed heavily upon all of them, leaving them beaten, bruised, and tired. Sunshine wasn’t sure if they had another round of monster fighting in them, but she wasn’t sure they’d get a choice in the matter. 

As they ventured deeper into the tunnels, they came upon odd plants that grew beside the vines. The plants expanded and retracted as if they were breathing. They stopped to observe the strange scenery for only a moment before they started walking again, but they didn’t get far before a shrill scream came from the back of the group, startling everyone. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Dustin yelled as he hastily pulled down his bandana and began coughing violently. 

Sunshine had whipped around at the scream and hurried to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder with panic rising quickly in her chest. “What happened?” 

“It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth! Shit!” Dustin yelled and coughed while Sunshine shared a worried look with Steve. Neither one of them knew what to do; there wasn’t exactly common knowledge on what to do when someone breathed in otherworldly plant fumes. Luckily, Dustin’s panic faded with his coughs, and settled with a deep breath from the kid before he said, “I think I’m okay. It’s fine.” 

Sunshine let out a sigh of relief and pulled Dustin’s bandana back up over his nose and mouth. “Let’s keep going, yeah?” she said. Dustin nodded and the rest of the kids all started following Steve’s lead once more. 

After she made her way back to the front of the pack, Sunshine peered over at the map Steve held and tried to figure out how close they were to the hub.

“If we make it out of here, remind me to never volunteer to babysit again,” Steve said. 

“When we make out of here,” she corrected. Not making it out wasn’t a choice they had. Sunshine promised to protect all of them, and she didn’t plan on breaking that promise. “I will. But I don’t know how well that’ll go over.” She glanced behind them at the group filing behind them with brave faces and good hearts. “I think they’re really warming up to you.” 

Steve shook his head. “They said, like ten minutes ago, they wanted to leave me behind at the house.”

“Well, yeah, but to be fair, they were right about you freaking out in the car.” Steve scoffed. “And I wouldn’t have let that happen. We wouldn’t have left you behind.” 

Over the last year, Sunshine had grown a closeness with Steve that she didn’t want to let go of. She had learned what it was like to have a best friend, to have someone who was patient and kind to her without any obligation to do so. Sunshine wanted to hang onto Steve; she liked having him around, whether it was to study at the library or fight monsters. 

“I can’t believe you punch Hargrove,” Steve said after a beat of silence. “I bet that threw him off. Most girls in town are trying to get with him, not break his jaw.” 

It was her turn to scoff, playfully. “I didn’t break his jaw. I think his jaw hurt my hand more than my punch hurt him.” She flexed her fingers and winced. The way Billy looked at Max and Lucas still unsettled her; the idea that anyone, even an angry teenage boy, would think for even a second of hurting a kid half their size caused rage to flood Sunshine’s veins. Maybe it was her memories of the Lab and how far the violence inside there went, but she refused to let anyone lay a hand on any member of the party. And even though Sunshine had just met Max that week, she still felt a sense of protectiveness over her, considering how she was roped into the mess of their lives. 

“I also take babysitting very seriously,” Sunshine added, half-joking. 

“I’ve noticed.” 

They continued to trudge through the tunnels until they reached a large opening that multiple tunnels spilled into. It was a large space right where Mike had said. 

“Alright, Wheeler,” Steve said. “I think we found your hub.” 

Mike stepped forward holding a canister of gasoline. “Let’s drench it.” And that they did. 

The group worked to soak every inch of the room with gasoline. They worked quickly and tossed the empty canisters aside before they regrouped at the entrance of the tunnel they had come from. They had a straight shot back to the entrance and a quick trip back to the Byers. Sunshine hoped they beat everyone back and then she nor Steve would have to explain why they let the kids out of the house when that was the last thing they were supposed to do. 

Steve pulled a lighter from his coat pocket and everyone braced themselves. He breathed deeply and muttered, “I’m in such deep shit,” before he dropped the lighter and caught the hub on fire. 

The flames drank the gasoline hungrily, spreading alarmingly fast. Bright orange exploded before their eyes and the heat was felt through their layers of clothing. The vines that covered the ground and walls hissed loudly in pain like they were alive. 

“Go! Go! Go!” Steve yelled and prompted the kids to start running. 

A final wave of adrenaline gave them one last push to run as fast as their legs could carry them. Steve led the way, remembering each twist and turn even in the eerie darkness, and Sunshine brought up the rear to ensure no kid got left behind. That was a good thing, too, because as they ran, one of the vines snaked up from where it was curled against the ground and latched onto Mike’s leg as he tried to run by. 

He was pulled to the ground and Sunshine stumbled to a stop with him. Mike kicked his leg in an attempt to shake the vine, but it encircled his ankle, locking him in place.

Sunshine kneeled beside him and dug her fingernails into the vine, trying to yank it off of Mike, but it refused to let him go. 

“Sunshine! Get it off! Get it off!” Mike cried. 

She knew her powers were shot, but she thought she’d get lucky again like she had with Billy. Sunshine cupped her hands together, but before she could even think about igniting them, another vine shot out of the wall and curled around her wrist. 

An angry scream tore through her throat as she tried to escape and help Mike. 

The rest of the group had heard their yells and stopped running. 

“Oh, shit!” Lucas gasped, looking between Mike’s trapped leg and Sunshine’s bound wrists. 

“Steve, do something!” Dustin demanded, full of panic. 

Steve quickly pulled his bat from his backpack and hurried over to the two. He first brought the bat down against the ground, where Mike’s vine squirmed. The nails that had been hammered into the bat struck the vine and cut through its thick skin, causing the plant to ooze black goo. Mike pulled the dead half of the vine from around his ankle and scrambled toward Sunshine. He grabbed a hold of the vine that squeezed Sunshine’s wrists and pulled it taught between her and the wall. 

“Hit it! Hurry!” Mike yelled at Steve. Steve swung his bat again and cut the vine. 

Mike pulled Sunshine to her feet with a heavy breath. 

“Are you okay?” she asked him. 

With a nod, Mike brushed the sweaty pieces of hair back from his forehead. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine. But we’ve gotta go.” 

Sunshine spun around to resume their journey through the tunnels, but instead of an empty path, they were met with the faceless gaze of a Demo-dog. Instinctively, she grabbed a hold of the kids nearest to her, Mike and Luke, and shoved them behind her. She moved to grab the rest of the kids, but Dustin stepped forward toward the monster before she could. 

“Dart,” Dustin said, his voice steady. 

Sunshine’s heart dropped violently. “Dustin-” she hissed, but he held up his hand to quiet her as Dart growled. 

“Stop,” Dustin whispered to the group. “Just trust me.” 

Sunshine trusted Dustin: the kid was one of the smartest she knew, but he and all of the kids acted like they were invincible. 

Stepping forward slowly, Dustin kept all of his focus on Dart. Sunshine held her breath and tried to think of the quickest way to get him and everyone else away if the monster decided to attack. There wasn’t anywhere for them to run away unless it was back toward the hub that was burning. The only escape was past the Demo-dog. 

“Hey, it’s me. It’s your friend, Dustin. Do you remember me? Will you let us pass?” Dart growled once more in response, but it didn’t seem to deter Dustin. He spoke again, calm and slow, like he was talking to his mom’s dead cat, Mews, and not a creature that wanted to rip them from limb to limb. “I’m sorry about the storm cellar, that was a pretty douchey thing to do.” He reached into the side pocket of his backpack and pulled out a candy bar. “You hungry? I’ve got your favorite, see? Nought.” He tossed the candy to the ground in front of Dart. The monster sniffed it for a moment, and Sunshine feared it would ignore the candy and take to eating them instead. 

However, Dart turned his attention away from Dustin and began eating the candy bar similar to how a dog snacked on a bone. Dustin tossed a look over his shoulder at the group and waved them along. “Let’s go.” 

As carefully and quietly as they could, the group slid past Dart and resumed their sprint toward the exit. The crackle of the fire faded, and the tunnel was only filled with their labored breaths and heavy steps. 

They managed to make it fairly far before another problem was tossed their way. What was supposed to be a quick and sneaky task had taken several turns for the worse. 

A steady rumble began to shake the ground and a symphony of howls and growls sucked the nasty air from Sunshine’s lungs. 

“They’re coming!” Mike rushed out. “Run!” 

Sunshine spared a quick look over her shoulder and saw the monsters’ shadows growing on the wall behind them. She quickened her pace with her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest. 

Several feet ahead, the rope came into view, swinging down from the surface as their saving grace. 

Steve, having led everyone, was the first to reach the rope and he immediately started ushering the kids up it and to the safety above. Max was the first one up and the second she was out she reached her hand down into the hole and helped the others up. 

Together, Steve and Sunshine made quick work of hoisting the kids up, one after another as the monster enclosed around them. Sunshine could hear them coming toward at a rapid pace. As the seconds ticked by, and the Demo-dogs grew closer, she worried they wouldn’t get all of the kids up in time. 

Lucas followed Max, and then Mike, Dustin, and Luke all managed to scramble out with the help of one another. All who were left were Steve and Sunshine, but the monsters turned the corner and were only a couple of feet from them. 

“Guys! Come on!” Dustin screamed and all of the kids reached out their hands, but there was no time. It was mere seconds until the monsters reached them, not allowing enough time for even one of them to climb, let alone both of them. 

Sunshine didn’t even have time to think about dying. All she could think about was the way her sides ached from running and how the kids’ voices all bled together from above. She stared at the incoming creatures, too drained and stunned to fight. All she did was close her eyes and hold her breath. An arm hooked around her waist, and she was pulled into a tight embrace. 

For an agonizing moment, she and Steve braced for impact. They were either going to be eaten or trampled to death, perhaps both.

But nothing happened. 

The howls came and left with a strong gush of air that nearly knocked Sunshine off her feet if it hadn’t been for Steve. It was like the monster hadn’t even seen them. They slipped away down the tunnel before their very eyes. 

Sunshine peeled her eyes open and tried to catch her breath. She had Steve’s coat clutched tight in her shaky hands and he kept his one arm around her waist, while his other held onto the rope. For a moment, they stared at each other, unsure of what the hell just happened.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed out with a bewildered look overcoming his features. He suddenly grabbed the sides of Sunshine’s face, like he was checking to make sure she was real and that they both were still standing. “We’re not dead. We’re not dead!” 

A startled laugh fell from Sunshine’s lips. They should be dead. Why didn’t the monsters attack them? Why didn’t they even seem to notice them? 

The kids all called to them, frantically overlapping with each other so that Sunshine couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

Steve stepped back and looked up at the series of faces that peered down at them. “We’re okay,” he told them, but that didn’t seem to ease the worry that had overtaken each of their faces. 

“Something’s wrong!” Max cried, looking at something over her shoulder. “Hurry!” 

Steve hoisted Sunshine up first. She climbed the rope until the kids were within reach, and they helped her the rest of the way up. She fell into the dirt with a deep breath of fresh air. 

They only had a second to collect themselves before the kids pulled their attention toward Luke, who sat still on the ground a couple of feet from the tunnel entrance. 

“Something’s wrong with him,” Lucas said, nervously glancing between the older teens and Luke. 

Luke’s eyes were rolled into the back of his head and a single line of blood dripped from his nose. Sunshine cursed under her breath as she kneeled in front of it. As she did so, the headlights of Billy’s car suddenly burned brightly, nearly blinding all of them. The lights grew brighter and brighter until they switched off, leaving them in the darkness of night in the middle of an empty field. 

“El,” said Mike. “She did it.” 

Sunshine didn’t know what it was exactly, but she knew he was right. There was something, a feeling that buzzed through the air that quelled the doom that had been thick for weeks. El had closed the Gate. It was over. That allowed her attention to be fully on Luke. 

“Luke? Luke, can you hear me?” She didn’t touch him, but her hands hovered close to the young boy. Everyone else crowded around the two of them on the ground. “Who helped him up?” 

Max slowly raised her hand, her face blanched. “I did. D-Did I do something wrong? I didn’t-” 

“No, you didn’t,” Sunshine said. “When Luke touches someone, skin to skin, he gets a vision. That’s how his abilities work.” That’s why he often curled into himself and kept his hands tucked away in his pockets, but in the chaos of the incoming Demo-dogs, Luke had no choice but to accept the help of Max to get to safety. 

“Whoa, wait,” Dustin gasped. “You mean, he’s seeing the future right now?” 

Sunshine sighed, “Yes.” 

Another couple of quiet moments passed as they waited out Luke’s vision. He returned with a loud gasp and his eyes blinked back into focus. His hand pressed against his chest, and he looked around wildly until Sunshine gently placed a hand on his coat-clad shoulder. 

“Hey, Luke. You’re okay,” she soothed. Luke visibility relaxed, but not before his gaze fell onto Max. What Sunshine didn’t mention was that the future he saw was specific to the person he had touched. But he said nothing, and she was sure that meant he needed time to digest the flashes of the future he saw before he could make sense of them. 

No one was sure of what to do after that. The cold air nipped at their noses and their heavy breaths were visible in the dim moonlight. Sunshine felt her adrenaline wear off, and she had to resist the urge to fall back into the dirt and close her eyes for the night. 

“We should get back to Will’s before everyone else,” Mike said after a moment. Everyone silently agreed and started toward the car.

“Um, is Max driving again?” Lucas asked. 

“No!” Both Sunshine and Steve answered simultaneously. Max scoffed, but her attitude was watered down by the night, and she tiredly shrugged them off before tossing the keys she had kept safe in her pocket to Steve. 

Everyone fell into their seats, and they started back to the Byers, all ready for the night to conclude.

Tag List. @sattlersquarry , @leptitlu , @echoing-oursong

[moramaisis]

Characters: Ascended Astarion x tav tiefling Pairing: M/F Status: Happily evil together. In a stable relationship. Warnings: Heavy smut, murder, villain couple, dark romance, dark humor, unhinged horniness. Long story! Keywords: Mutual masturbation, hand job, rim job, oral sex, threesome, biting, vaginal sex, light dom/sub, light degrading, femdom, teasing. Notes: This is a third story....yeah.....it's sad. The brainrot is thriving. It's smut with a plot and i tried to world-build, though it might stray away from canon...a little. Ao3 Summary: After defeating the Elder Brain ascended Astarion and his tiefling bride decide to travel the world. The first place they visit is a town in the north with interesting pagan traditions. The couple gets bored after a while and Arsenia proposes they convert their first spawn. A certain elf of high class has caught her eye and the couple decides to seduce him.

After everything was over, it was time to move on. I said i didn't want to settle down and Astarion has been stuck for 200 years. Stuck in those 200 years. He wanted to see the world. I was used to travelling and could travel some more.

I said we could hang a map on the wall and throw daggers at it, see where fate takes us. He said i was too dramatic.

„I excelled in geography and i'm very good with daggers, my love. I couldn't make a random throw even if i was blindfolded.“

I said i will throw him at the map if he doesn't make a choice. So, we did the next best thing. We were staying at an inn, so, i went downstairs, snatched the most disheveled drunk and threw him at the map. He survived the encounter, but the mark left by his bloody nose was enough to start our quest. The location happened to be lovely as well. We were quite lucky, as it appeared.

Before leaving we had to make a one last trip to the Cazador's palace. Astarion gathered his mortal minions and gave them instructions to clean out the castle. There were a lot of gore leftovers in the dungeons. The castle had to be maintained while we were gone. A few days later we rented a carriage and left Baldur's Gate. I wore a suit topped with a long coat. I considered a dress, but decided against it. Astarion made sure that my suit was made from the best fabrics and finely tailored. I had never felt so fancy in my life. Our destination was a large town in the North, it was a place i have never been to.

As we approached our destination the landscape began to change dramatically. Dense forests encircled boulder fields, eroding cliff edges broke the surface of meadows coated in dead grasses. The closer we got, the whiter the earth became. One morning we opened the carriage curtains to witness falling snow. Air became colder, snow thickened. Soon we exchanged our carriage for a horse-drawn sleigh.

We entered the town coated in furs and blankets, with frosty eyelashes and visible breath. It was very different to the views we were used to, however, it was breathtaking. The streets were decorated with lanterns, evergreen branches hanging from doors and windows. Colorful ribbons and ornaments - woven from twigs, hay and carved from wood - adorned the greenery. We rented a small house near the wall and sat by the fireplace. The nights were long and short days heavily clouded. Every morning workers shovelled snow on the streets. Strange creatures of all sorts pulled sleighs around town, horses, furry horned beasts, odd deer-looking things. Even a couple pulled by dogs!

Daily walks became our routine, my hand in the crook of my lover's arm, both of us dressed in furs.

„I can't believe i killed 7000 spawn just to move to a place without the sun,“ Astarion groaned as we were walking between shops.

„What is your obsession with the sun? Do you want a fucking tan?“

„I'd look great with a tan, you must admit,“ Astarion smiled amusedly.

„You look good in anything, beloved,“ i teased him. „I like it here. It's beautiful, peaceful, the air smells fresh…“

„That's because the sewers are frozen, my love.“

“That certainly helps,“ i smirked, gazing up at the sky as flashes of color snaked across the darkness. „Look up. You can't see that in Baldur's Gate.“

Astarion turned his eyes to the sky and we both watched the Northern Lights in silence.

“I have seen these before. Back when i used to travel and work as a blade for hire. I always wanted to see them again.“ I fought back distant memories, now that time has passed a dusting of bittersweetness coated them. Astarion caught on to that.

“Is that longing in your voice that i hear ?“

“Maybe“, i sighed.

Astarion turned to face me and took my hands. „Sounds like you're missing your former life filled with danger and adventure. We don't have to carry on like this, you know. Pretending to be an honorable married couple. We're on vacation, after all. We can do whatever we want.“

I squeezed his hand, bringing it close to my heart. „You're so sweet that you're making my teeth rot. I don't want to spoil our fun. I love travelling with you and i need a vacation. It's just…i liked my job. New day, new person to find, a new skull to smash. There were ups and downs, for sure, and i don't miss working for assholes…but….i feel like an impostor. We don't quite fit in, do we, love?“

He liked my train of thought, it was safe to say he felt the same.

“I always knew you're a thrill-seeker, it's one of the many things i love about you. So, tell me, what twisted little ideas are festering in that demented brain of yours?“

My smirk grew wider, menacing and flirty. „Too early to say. The city needs exploring. But, lover, you'll be the first to know.“ I reached out and twirled a curl of Astarion's hair, then ran my hand down the front of his coat possessively. I have always been very…tactile. „Lets pay less glamorous parts of this city a visit, shall we?“

“Excellent choice, my treasure. Lets remember the good old times.“

We walked to the poor section of the town. Buildings were smaller here, still in good condition, but visibly older. It was like going back in time. People walking past us were also dressed simply, mainly wearing goat or sheep skin coats. Astarion spotted a lively pub and we entered the rustic, dimly lit building. We took a seat near the back and gave a lovely maiden, who approached our table, the order. Coins were exchanged and our drinks arrived soon. Astarion got himself a cup of wine, while i took some ale. Both locally brewed, with unusual spicy additives, and pretty good!

The buzz hit me quickly and i relaxed on the bench. We were eavesdropping and the conversations were exactly what you'd expect to hear in a pub. Although, one peaked my interest. It was held by a two men behind a corner table. The taller man was chewing on some dried meat, while the stouter one was downing his ale.

“The solstice is coming, i promised my daughter a new skirt. She will be taking part in the celebrations, doing the ritual. It's not proper to show up in a patched dress. She wants to impress someone, she said,“ spoke the taller man.

The other nodded in a daze. „I will be at home. Marena will be working.“

“Working during celebrations?“

The stout man sighed, „She's working at the house of Anvegg now. She's in the kitchen and the fancy folk are having a ball. All the big noses will be there.“

“Right, right. It's not posh enough to celebrate amongst the commoners.“

I scraped my claw on the table, it was our sign that i was interested. Astarion looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Felt an urge to mingle with high society? Although, crashing a ball would be an act of rebellion in itself. These kind of things are usually invitation only.“

“I think the house of Anvegg is one of the oldest elf families ruling this town.“ This town had more elves and half-elves than any other race. It was quite diverse otherwise, except for humans. It would be curious to see the forces behind this place. Especially as old as these.

Astarion's eyes unfocused, he was somewhere else for a second. „Hmm, Cazador had spawn for these kinds of activities. Prowling around crowded places, hiding in dark alleyways, sharpening fangs on unwilling necks…“

“…and look where it got him. Tigers who don't hunt become lazy. And overconfident.“ I filled the pause, spitting venom at that lost name.

Astarion smirked, he seemed to experience a special kind of joy each time i bad-mouthed his former master. I liked to indulge him, but he knew i was right. I wasn't going to let my lover become stagnant, he was mine and i will look after him.

“It does feel nice being back in the trenches,“ he admitted. „Watching the events unfold, being in control.“

I touched his hand, my face hidden by shadow. My touch was passionate as i played with his fingers. I wanted to reassure him, bring him some peace of mind. Every time he mentioned his former master i felt a violent impulse to cuss out Cazador. However, his reminiscing was becoming more frequent. After the ritual his confidence was soaring, just mentioning his former master's name could send him into rage. Time passed and he started to change. He began mentioning his spawn life again. Something about that filled me with sadness and a carnal desire to comfort him.

“Control is everything, my darkest desire,“ i lulled a song of seduction.

His response was fiery, his hand caressed mine as he leaned over the table.

“You are right, my little dragon,“ his tone carried a similar amount of allure.

“We need more information about the upper echelon, if we proceed.“ I tilted my head, a plan already brewing.

“I love seeing you scheme. The wickedest ideas rise from the depths of that deviant little mind of yours, especially when you look at me like that.“

“Call my mind little one more time and i'll fuck you right on the spot.“ There was a threat hidden in my lustful whisper. My tease carried the intensity of the sun.

“You're making it very hard to stop, my little love.“

His eyes burned me and i felt an urge to make him scream. It sent shivers down my spine. I would never say that to him – it would be simply too cruel - but Cazasor was right when he said his screams sounded sweet. Besides, i didn't want to give him the wrong impression. His suffering did bring me pleasure, but only if it led to delight. And bringing him delight was equally arousing to me. I adored messing with his head. My love has always been toothy and bloodstained. It was understandably too much for the majority, that's why my list of lovers was so short. I think he was attracted to my duality.

“Go on, try me.“ My voice challenged him.

Astarion snatched my jaw and pulled me closer. Our eyes met, holding a staring contest. A tingle danced between my legs. His thumb brushed over my lips, repeating the motion after reaching the corner of my mouth. I parted my lips and bit his thumb. His eyebrows furrowed as he gasped from pain.

“You're fucking feral…mmm, i'm glad i made you mine.“ He leaned to kiss me and the crowded room melted away, there was nobody else but us. The spot between my legs moistened and throbbed in yearning. I grabbed the back of his head and sat up in my seat. Astarion broke our kiss.

“We should find a more private place,“ he said.

I took his hand and pulled him up, we swivelled the tables and escaped into the snowy streets. He led me down a narrow street, snow crunching under out boots, and we stopped in a passage between two buildings. Conveniently, there were no windows. Astarion pushed me against the worn stone wall and unbuttoned my coat. I lifted my leg and he pressed it to his waist. Our kiss was raw. His hand made its way down my pants, i throbbed and let him play with myself. His hand was stroking my folds, drawing circles around my bud. It was wonderful, i could do anything when i felt like this.

I began opening his coat, then his pants. My hand clenched his member, toying with it like it was my treat. His breath quickened as his hips thrust into my hand. I started kneading his length, finishing each motion with a tight squeeze at the base of his shaft. He was my plaything and couldn't keep my hands off him. It was driving him crazy and he repaid me by pushing his fingers inside me. My silky walls clenched around him and he thrust his fingers into me. It was blissful!

My hand clamped around my lover's member, kneading it upwards. Once i reached the tip i pulled aside his skin and circled the head. Astarion shuddered and dug into the crook of my neck, his fangs meeting my skin. I arched my back, welcoming the bite. It turned me on like nothing else, electrified the tips of my nerves. Asatrion knew it well. He released my neck and dragged his tongue down my skin, only to suddenly bite me again. I undulated against him, moaning from delight. My fingers were swirling delicate patterns into the tender head of his member. He thrust his hips, looking for some kind of friction to end my tease.

I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. I removed my hand from his length and slipped it under, caressing his balls, then moved deeper down to stroke the tender skin around his rear entrance. Astarion exhaled with pleasure, his hot breath wafting over my neck. His fingers were moving at a steady pace inside me, my wetness dripping down my thigh. It was wonderful and i didn't want it to end, not yet.

My fingers stroked him, giving him a delicate rim job. I could feel him clenching under my touch, his breath quickened and his teeth sunk into my shoulder. The pleasure was building inside me, i would finish soon if he let me.

„Slow down your fingers, just a little,“ i mumbled in his ear.

Astarion was kissing and nipping my neck, his hand complied with my request. Meantime, i was caressing his back entrance, pushing a finger into his tight bundle of muscle, then easing down. He was heaving his hips in unison with my fingers, his fully hard member brushing against my arm, smearing precum on my skin.

We spent a while like rutting animals, grunting against the cold wall. Then i removed my hand and he pulled down my pants. It didn't take any effort to slide inside me. I exhaled in ecstasy, grasping at his clothing, awaiting him to speed up his hips. He did exactly that, unwilling to wait any longer. He fucked me right there, in the snow, my hands clenching is ass. The orgasm was delicious and my vampire lord finished soon after, my clenching silkiness driving him over the edge.

Next day we had to go out during the working hours. The sky was heavily clouded by gray, wide snowflakes were falling from the sky. I took us to a bookshop, it was a beautiful room filled with dark wood. I introduced us as traveling merchants who are looking into expanding our business. The shopkeeper was a sweet woman, who took kindly to my conversation. Of course, our fancy clothing and furs helped to sell the illusion. I bought a book about local poetry and asked about the city. The woman told us everything we wanted to know. It appears there were three major houses who ruled the city. Three big elven families who had formed a council.

I also asked about the celebrations. She told me about the winter solstice and the goddess of death and cold. They held huge celebrations each winter, when the night was the longest. It was a local deity, whose familiars haunted the barren winter lands. We were lucky, the solstice was happening very soon.

We enjoyed the town until that day. Explored streets, buildings. I rented a sleigh and we drove around like royalty. Locals were skiing in the hills and ice skating on frozen lakes. I bought some skates and tried it out. It was a lot harder than it looked, but my vampiric reflexes helped. I wanted to experience as much as i could. Surprisingly, i managed to get Astarion to try out ice skating too. It was amusing to no end seeing a vampire lord on ice. I was so proud of him, although it took some convincing. In the end we managed to explore the frozen lake together, holding hands like the cheesiest old couple.

Two young girls passed us. I heard one say that were were adorable and she hopes to be just like us when she grows old. I almost turned around and ripped their heads off but Astarion stopped me.

The day of the solstice citizens lit candles on their windows. The day itself was incredibly short, the night, however, lit by golden lights. We heard the commotion from our house. People were wearing masks and clothing in bright colors, chanting and singing. Many masks depicted skulls, decorated with ribbons and runes. It was the night to execute our plan. I wore a dress with a tight bodice – that gave be excellent cleavage – and a huge skirt. Astarion dressed in an elaborately decorated suit. We had no chance entering through the main doors without unwanted attention, so we had to sneak in. While inside we had to look the part, so we fluffed our feathers like a pair of peacocks.

We put on our fur coats and hired a sleigh to take us to the upper city. My jewelry felt cold and heavy against my chest and neck. It was a freezing cold. We sneaked as close to the Anvegg palace as we could, but the streets were crowded by sleighs. People were waiting in a queue to pass through huge metal gates. The palace itself was magnificent, resembling a castle. Its architecture was elegant and detailed. We spotted guards everywhere and had to sneak along the palace wall. After careful inspection we decided to climb over the wall behind the palace gardens. The guards were pacing along the wall, but since it was so long they were fairly spaced out.

Astarion shapeshifted into mist and flew up the wall, there he snapped the neck of the nearest guard and threw him into the garden's evergreen bushes. I – being a sorcerer after all – conjured a spell that allowed me to fly. From there we jumped down and hid behind the bushes. Astarion called forth a fog and it blanketed the palace like a tender curtain. We snuck in through the palace backdoor, but not before casting a spell of invisibility upon us both.

We made our way to the ballroom and stood at the back. The scene was a sight to behold. Elves and races of different kind were dressed to impress. The room was adorned by evergreen branches, lanterns, candles and decorations made of crystal. The latter reflected light in different colors, creating prismatic speckles on the walls. Drinks flowed freely, a table with light foods and desserts was under arched columns. Musicians were playing a fast-paced, but oddly melancholic, tune. Nobody was dancing yet, people were exchanging pleasantries, still entering.

“Looks like we got here too early,“ Astarion noted.

“Bollocks, i'll fetch us some drinks.“ I dodged people masterfully to get us two glasses. The drinks were spicy, but very good.

“So, this is how the upper crust parties in this piece of the world? Is this what you expected?“

I glanced around and sipped from my glass. „Yes and no. With the masks and sad music there better be a sacrifice coming.“

I found it odd that although all the townsfolk was masked, no one in the ballroom was wearing one.

“The nobles have too much money and status to hide their face. Just showing up here is a sign of success. Why hide that?“ Astarion spoke, tasting his drink. I think he noticed me glaring at people.

The ballroom was filling up and the song changed, still melancholic. Soon a chime of bells echoed in the hall. People's murmur quieted down and a figure appeared on a balcony above the crowd. It was a handsome finely-dressed elf.

“Dear guests, beloved neighbors, and those who had to make a long journey to get here, i welcome you in the house of Anvegg. I'm lord Ronegard Anvegg and this palace has been the heart of our family for more than 500 years. Ever since it was built, it has been welcoming to guests and hosting a winter solstice ceremony to ward off dark spirits of the cold and thank the winter goddess Lendera. This year we have something special prepared. But, until then, let us dance and drink like the sun will never rise! We shall honor the eternal night!“

The crowd cheered. Lord Ronegard smiled and raised his glass, then continued.

“To those who are new, i'd like to present my family. My beautiful wife Ereida. „

A stunning woman walked forth, taking her husband's hand. She wore a gown with a long train, jewelry and a headdress. The crowd sheered again.

“Be warmed by the light of Anvegg's palace. Friends will always find a refuge here,“ she said, her voice like a song. By the whispers it became clear she was greatly loved and admired.

Lord Ronegard spoke again, holding his wife's gentle hand, “this is my oldest son, Obreon!“

An elf nodded at the back of the balcony, while making a step forward, surrounded by his siblings who were waiting to be presented. My eyes snapped onto him and never left. I don't think i have seen such a face in a long time, the noble modesty and elegant movements crowned him in excellence. He was stunning, long white hair that glimmered in light blue, dark gray eyes, sensual lips. The handsome elf was wearing a suit in gray and blue colors, silver rings and an elegant silver headdress.

“….Obreon is a skilled dancer, sorcerer and talented musician.“

The named son kept an impassive face, but his mask cracked as a glimmer of annoyance sparked in his eyes. He stepped back into the row and his father proceeded to present his other children, two sons and three daughters – all equally gorgeous. My eyes were glued to Obreon. I recalled what the bookshop keeper told me. Anvegg family were powerful sorcerers, who wielded old magic, kept magical artifacts and had fought battles for this city.

There was something about him that i couldn't comprehend, something magnetic, something familiar. I wanted to possess him. Add him to my collection. Break him, make him kneel. Desire and violence mixed in my twisted head.

I turned to Astarion and whispered in his ear, “you wanted an army of spawn. Have you though about turning somebody?“

“Who do you have in mind?“ He lowered his head curiously.

“How about the oldest son of the Anvegg family?“

Astarion looked up at the balcony, eyes narrowing. He noted the white hair, his overall visage and raised an eyebrow, snickering loudly. „You clearly have a type. Taking the son of a powerful family will blow our cover, not to mention put a target on our backs, my treasure. Maybe you should make another choice?“

My tongue thrashed, rubbing against the back of my teeth, an animal trying desperately to escape its cage. Astarion was right, it was a huge risk, but i couldn't stop thinking about it. The more i entertained the idea, the more i liked it. My hand slid up his chest, stopping on his shoulder.

“It will be dangerous, but if we play our cards right this might become our secret weapon,“ i whispered in his ear.

“You love this city, if we make ourselves the public enemy we'll have to leave.“

I glanced at the balcony, the noble family were slowly disappearing, probably going down the stairs to join the ballroom. I knew this, i didn't feel like leaving, not yet. The danger of this idea, however, had a hold on me, it made me tingle.

My lips were almost touching Astarion's ear as they formed a breathy purr, “imagine, the beloved son of this city as your spawn…listening for you, being your eyes…the most powerful house would stand at your feet. There won't be a better way to infiltrate.“ My siren song tickled his neck, wafted curls of hair across his skin.

“You'd have to use your master's restraint on him…maybe spice it with some spells. As long as he doesn't talk, who will rat us out? We're the heroes of Baldur's Gate, remember.“

He turned to look at me, our faces almost touching. “You know how to be convincing, but be honest with me, why did you pick him?“

“He would make a great plaything, in more ways than one. Can't give you a solid reason, my darkest desire. It's just instincts.“

Astarion chuckled victoriously, his voice sweet and sedative. „So that's how it is then? My treasure has finally started shopping for some bedroom furniture? You started quite late, i expected someone with your appetites to begin a lot sooner.“

“Maybe he won't be any good at all. For his own sake, he better be. Do you like him? If the sands of time ran backwards, and you were standing in a dark alleyway, would you have taken someone like him?“

He paused, looking out into the crowd. The noble family had entered the room, scattering to greet their guests, old and new.

“I had low standards in my former life. He's the sort you'd rarely find in one. Had i met him back then…well…“ he drawled, voice cracking, eyes locked to something in the distance, „he would have certainly caught my eye.“

I smiled, it was all i wanted to hear.

“He looks like he could be your son….or a long lost relative. Maybe fathered in the bushes of some lost elven kingdom,“ i teased.

Astarion snorted with amusement, „Not all elves look the same, you know. It's flattering, but don't ascribe me any children, i assure you, i have none. I'm one of a kind.“

“We'll have to wait until he's alone. This greeting ceremony will go on for a long time.“

So we waited, crawling around the ballroom like shadows, waiting and watching. Guests started making merry, cups were filled and couples danced. I pulled Astarion to an empty hallway and took his waist.

“Excuse me, noble sir, will you spare me a dance?“ I was feeling playful and the night was simply too good waste. The fast-paced melancholic music echoed in the hallways, bouncing off high ceilings and candelabras. Astarion held my hand, whilst enchanting me with an elegant bow.

“It would be a pleasure, my lady.“ He placed a hand on my waist and i took the long train of my skirt into my hand, we started swirling around in a light-footed dance. We were ghosts haunting this castle, invisible yet present.

The night went on and soon another chime of bells wafted through air. It was Ronegard Anvegg standing on the steps of an elaborate staircase.

“Dear guests, it's time to witness the ritual and fulfil the hunger of winter's ghosts. Please, proceed to the inner garden, our servants will lead your way.“

Servants in fancy clothing and holding lanterns stood near the main doors. A flow of guests began moving outside, where more servants lit their way. The night was cold, a light sprinkling of snow descending from the sky. The winter moon hung low, enormous like a bulging eye. The passage of guests, who had put on their coats and gloves, was travelling to the garden located in the inner circle of the castle. We followed, still cloaked by the invisibility spell. It was a joyful trip, full of murmur and excited conversation. I had a strange anticipation in my chest, the thrill of something great and menacing igniting my nerves.

The crowd gathered in an open area with a frozen fountain at the back and evergreen trees surrounding the space. There was a tall stack of dry wood and hay in the center of the arena, decorated with red ribbons. Two dead hares were placed on each side, adorned with fresh flowers. Lord Anvegg walked in front of it, his family kept to the side of the funeral pyre.

“Some of you know these lands well, while some have not yet had the time to become acquainted. These lands are bountiful in summer, yet deadly in winter. For centuries locals held rituals to make wintertide a safer time. Before, the hungry ghosts of Lendera's familiars roamed the lands, hunting people down, spilling blood. Venturing outside was not safe, going into the woods was deadly. Only by appeasing the winter soul have we gained safety and freedom.“

Ronegard gestured to his servants and they carried something to the arena. It was a tall bundle, tightly bound by colorful ribbons. The servants carried it to the stack of kindling and rested it against the wood. It stood up, now vaguely human shaped.

“Each winter solstice we give the winter's kiss a sacrifice, usually we choose someone from the town's prison. Someone worthy of death. This year, however…“ He raised his hand elegantly and a servant lifted a flap of fabric from the top of the bundle. A pale face emerged, eyes wide open, cheeks glistening with tears. A gasp travelled through the crowd, some were snickering.

“Tonight we are giving away one of our own. Some of you know him as Florian Denere, an elf who worked for the council. It was discovered he had been selling our information and filling his pockets with our gold. A betrayal is an act worthy of death in these parts, we keep close to survive and there simply isn't any room for those who put themselves above everyone else. Today, we shall give him to the winter hounds!“

His last words turned into an ecstatic yell, making the crowd cheer and clap. The sacrifice stared at the crowd, sweat running down his face, unable to speak as his lips were sewn shut. A servant brought Ronegard a torch and he placed in onto the kindling. The fire catched on and started to spread, a yellow glow reflecting in the terrified eyes of the sacrifice. He seemed paralysed by some potion, the only part animated being his eyes, those were nearly bulging out of his head, staring at the fire that was creeping closer to his feet.

Ronegard lifted a cup and yelled out into the night, „goddess of winter, ruler of death, take thy offering and stay benignant to our people. This soul is yours!“

The crowd screamed out in bloodlust, though some were averting their eyes in horror. I was spellbound by this sudden act of violence, my eyes taking in every movement, every scent and sound. The hair on my neck stood up, the energy of this ritual was unmatched. The sacrifice's eyes reflected a golden orange as the flames swept over him, he was engulfed in seconds, the fabric soaked in something flammable. My hand reached out for Astarion, grabbing his hand into mine. He squeezed me in return. Coming here was worth it after all.

“What an unexpected turn! The noble family is a lot more unhinged than i imagined! Bloody human sacrifices for old forgotten gods, how quaint! I have to admit, Ronegard knows how to throw an unforgettable party. I think some guests will be revisiting the highlight of this event in their nightmares,“ Astarion laughed, enjoying the performance as much as i did. The stench of burning human hair and flesh washed over the guests. It was so revolting that many covered their noses, some retched.

Ronegard was standing motionlessly and gazing into the flames, captivated by the sparks rising up into the night sky. Or maybe there was something else he saw in the fire? His eyes were oddly absent. He woke from his stupor and turned to guests with a wide smile.

“Dear guests, i'm asking you to go back inside. The ritual is over and it's getting rather unpleasant.“

He left the scene surrounded by servants who began guiding the crowd inside. The Anvegg family was last to move, they exchanged a few glances and haste words, then dispersed into the darkness. All but one – Obreon, he stared into the fire for a few more minutes, then began slowly sauntering to the castle. I nudged Astarion, it was our chance! I removed the invisibility spell. We had found a secluded spot away from the crowd, near the evergreen trees, where we could remain undisturbed.

“I want you to approach him first,“ i whispered. „Get a feeling for him, then introduce me.“ „Keen on watching, are you?“ He was joyous, eyes glinting from the anticipation of a challenge. „You always liked to see me at work. Don't forget to blink, darling.“

He was teasing me, but not too far from the truth. My eyes were fixated on our target, predatory, merciless.

Obreon didn't see him coming. Astarion just popped out from the dark void, that was this night, making the elf wince.

„What a powerful performance! It's going to be the talk for days to come. Not to mention a masterfully crafted exposition of a warning.“

The surprise on Obreon's face dissipated, replaced by formal coldness. „Excuse me, i don't think we've been introduced?“

„That is entirely our fault. We had to undertake a very long journey to get here and exprienced a few delays. We were late, but lucky enough to see the main event.“

„Oh, i'm sorry to hear that. It explains why i didn't see you at the dance.“ Obreon's demeanor seemed to soften up a little.

„You have an extraordinary memory, Lord Anvegg. How many people were there? A few hundred?“

„It's more of a curse, really,“ Obreon sighed. „I wanted to take a little walk, you may join me, if you don't mind the cold.“ The two began slowly encircling the gardens, snow crunching under their feet.

“I couldn't help but notice your disapproval during the ceremony. Were you close with the burning man?“ Astarion's question was blunt, yet not carrying any kind of accusations.

Obreon looked up in to the sky, the snowfall was becoming denser.

“I dearly hope it wasn't that obvious. Yes, i knew him. At one point i may have called him a friend, but it was a long time ago. In the council everybody knows each other. It was a shock to find out what he had been doing.“

Astarion sensed that the elf had nobody to talk to about the loss. It was an open door.

“It's always the ones who we least expect that tend to surprise us. My condolences for the loss of your friend.“

Obreon thanked him with a tired, yet grateful smile. “I will be fine. He knew what he was risking. The council has always been ruthless to traitors.“

“So you're telling me, private executions are widely practiced in these parts?“

“Private – only on special occasions. Public – not anymore. I'm guessing you outsiders think it's barbaric.“

“Not really, if the sacrifice is a criminal, then does it truly matter what kind of a punishment they receive? At least they're spending their last moments doing something useful. Or do you think otherwise?“

Obreon moistened his lips while admiring the castle. Snow was building on his head and coat.

“I would be a hypocrite to say that i care about the sacrificed. The dangers my father spoke about are very real. Townsfolk used go missing during wintertide, then be found ripped apart. The messengers of the goddess howled and scratched behind closed doors. People were scared to go into the forests, to go outside at night. Although, attacks happened during daytime, too. These are a necessary measure. A life has to be given, a thinking feeling being, such is the law.“

“Ah, gods love exercising their unyielding power, often as a detriment to their own worshippers. Are there any more human sacrifices planned in your yearly calendar? I can free up a spot in my schedule.“ Astarion's voice dropped flirtatiously. It worked as Obreon smiled.

“Not this kind. We celebrate summer solstice, but only sacrifice animals and wine during the ceremony. Some may sacrifice their virginity, but that's up to the gods of luck to decide.“ Obreon stopped and turned to look at Astarion. „You didn't say your name. It's not fair since you know mine.“

“I'm lord Astarion Ancunin and there's someone i'd like you to meet.“

“It's a pleasure, though, i haven't heard your name before.“ Obreon followed Astarion, who was leading them towards the row of evergreen trees.

“It's to be expected, i've led a rather secluded lifestyle and made my debut recently.“

I was watching from the bushes in silent awe, the plan had worked out perfectly. Astarion was enchanting to observe, his performance truly noteworthy. I could never get tired of this. He was good at what he did best – seducing. Cazador, you bastard, you made the perfect monster.

Astarion's hand reached out for me, parting the snow coated branches, and i gave him mine. He guided me out of the shadows, where i could see Obreon up close for the first time. He didn't disappoint, still as magnetic as when i first saw him, only now he wore a cautiously furrowed brow.

“This is my consort, my love and my partner in crime – Arsenia.“

I smiled, trying to not scare the elf with my intense staring. I stretched out my hand, as was customary. He took it gently and brought it to his lips. It was a gentle kiss, i barely felt any warmth. I caught his gaze and smiled. Obreon's eyes stayed on mine for longer than was decent.

“I apologize for stalking you in the bushes, but i was dying to meet you.“

Obreon was amused, „it seems i walked into an ambush. You must be freezing, you had to wait a long time for me.“

“I don't mind the cold, especially on a night like this. The gardens are beautiful, i went on a stroll.“

It was so difficult not to stare, i tried my best to soften my expression, but the hunter in me was enthralled by the chase. I was hyper-aware of myself, the air and the falling snow. I felt alive! There has always been a predatory aspect to my being, which was amplified by me becoming a vampire spawn. No, a vampire bride. I had tasted my lover in more ways than one. He had given me his blood. I was truly free to unleash my horrors into the world.

Obreon sensed the energy, there was no way for it to be unnoticed, it crackled through the air like distant lightening, filling the air with the scent of ozone. I doubt he understood what it meant, yet he was enticed. The elf's gray eyes darted from Astarion's smug smirk to my alluring little smile. My eyes were full of unspoken promises. Calling to him, inviting him to take part of unfathomable pleasures. Astarion's act was unmatched, he was spellbinding and gentlemanly.

“The gardens are one my favorite places, too. It's even more beautiful during the summer when everything is in bloom,“ Obreon said.

“It's also very private, i noticed. A lot of alcoves to hide in.“ My voice was silky smooth, brimming with temptation.

Obreon looked down shyly, a playful smile lingering on his lips. “It's by design. Many unions have been formed in this greenery.“

“I imagine many confessions of love, as well. This maze of green is built for the lecherous whispers of lovers and their hastened breaths,“ Astarion noted, his voice becoming deep and seductive.

We started moving, walking slowly between the snow-capped trees and bushes, many of which still held on to their berries. White pearlescent drops peeked out from the snow. As we were ambling the gardens Astarion drifted to Obreon's left side, while i kept to his right. He was cornered, the poor thing didn't even have a clue. Or did he? Perhaps he was waiting for a special kind of treat?

Obreon nodded with amusement. „If it was warmer these paths would be filled with guests. I'm ashamed to say that i have seen lifted skirts and bare thighs on more occasions than i dare to admit. My family turns a blind eye, as long as the guests are content.“

Astarion leaned closer. „Have you ever thought about joining one of them?“ His tone was controlled, yet flirtatious.

Obreon was impressed and entertained by his bluntness. “I have received a few invitations over the years, but none of them enticed me.“ The elf glanced at Astarion playfully.

I wrapped my arm around his bicep, caressing the silky fabric with my fingers. “It was brave to admit that, but it would be even braver to explain why.“

Obreon turned to look at me, our eyes met and his gaze travelled down to my lips, then to my cleavage, before bouncing back up. I let him know i caught him staring, he could look if he wanted to. I certainly didn't hide my wandering stare. My glowing tiefling eyes ran down his delicious frame, stopping briefly at his crotch.

Obreon gulped, „i'm very selective when it comes to that. There wasn't any chemistry between the us, or there wasn't enough of it.“

Astarion looked at him intensely. „Having high standards is paramount in these times, but especially to a person of your importance. Do entertain us, how do we measure up to your desires?“

Obreon's cheeks flushed, he gathered himself and looked in Astarion's eyes. „Are you going to make a proposal?“ The question was soft and quiet, more of a whisper.

“Would you like to get one?“ I squeezed his bicep, coming to a kissing distance of his lips.

Obreon smiled anxiously, his breath quickened. He stopped the walk. Large flakes of snow were gliding from the sky. It was so still and peaceful outside. The elf was firmly pressed between us, cornered like a deer by a pack of wolves. Yet, he didn't seem to want to run.

“Maybe,“ Obreon whispered lustfully.

I brushed his long hair out of the way and kissed his neck. Obreon closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, blissfully. Astarion touched Obreon's jaw to turn his face and kissed him on the lips. Obreon accepted the kiss eagerly, melting into position. He moved his hand to Astarion's neck, holding him gently.

I wrapped my arms around the elf, allowing them to wander shamelessly. My kisses on his neck were demanding, my tongue made an appearance and licked his soft skin. He tasted of nothing, maybe with a barely noticeable flavor of salt. His hair was silky soft, a lot of care went into it's upkeep for sure. I played with it, letting it slide between the tender flesh of my fingers.

Having him in our arms was victorious, the aloof prince at our mercy. The pretty man in a lion's den. I watched him kiss my beloved one, the scene made my heart beat faster. It was unusually satisfying to see my lover in action from a bystander's point of view. I could fully appreciate his beauty only when observing him from afar. Well, not afar in this case. I was still up close.

Astarion's lips moved in a hypnotizing way. They were soft, skilled and deadly. Those very lips that brought me pleasure were now making someone else sigh lustfully. I heard Obreon, i couldn't be fooled. I watched, tilting my head to catch every minute detail. The place between my legs tingled, becoming tender and responsive to every movement and friction. I needed to see Obreon flinching, his body was a plaything i wanted to engage.

I pressed my hand against Obreon's crotch and felt him through the fabric. He winced, gasping from the pleasant surprise. I rubbed him through the clothing and he thrust into my hand. This sent waves of pleasure up my body. I cupped his face and snatched him from Astarion, then kissed him passionately. Obreon let me inside his mouth, let me play with his tongue, while his hand touched my breasts that were mischievously bulging out from by bodice.

Suddenly, i felt a brush of wind on my neck. It was Astarion, he stood behind me, kissing my neck and nipping my skin. My pussy throbbed, eager to be touched. He caressed my shoulders, his fingers were running down my back, squeezing my waist. It was fantastic and i channeled that into the body in front of me – Obreon.

My hand was stroking him harder and faster, making the elf squirm underneath me, his kisses became more savage. I unbuttoned Obreon's trousers and slipped my hand into his undergarments, his erect cock fitting perfectlty into my fist, burning it with heat. Obreon moaned out loud, his hips bucking into my hand, begging to get off. I began stroking him, pausing to play with him like i saw fit, teasing him, edging him.

Meantime, Astarion was decorating my shoulder blades with toothy kisses, finally lifting up my skirts to touch me. His hand fluttered to my crotch and slipped a finger into my wetness, gently rubbing my swollen bud. I never wanted him to stop. His finger glided over my bud so delightfully, every stroke sending flickers of pleasure up my nerves. I uttered a blissful growl, the wetness dripping down my thigh. Then his hand started rubbing me in circles and i felt ecstatic! My hips started moving on their own, helping the orgasm build. My swollen bud was overly sensitive and the epicentre of my current state. I broke Obreon's kiss, my head tilted back in ecstasy.

All this time i made sure my hand in Obreon's pants never stopped for a second. The noble elf was watching us now, eyes darkened by deviant, perverted lust. He was breathing heavily, lips parted, tongue slithering behind the white cages of his teeth. He lunged forward and kissed Astarion over my shoulder. There i was, squeezed between two warm bodies, flushed and dripping wet.

Obreon took my leg and pulled it up to his waist, holding me, clinging to me like i was a wuthering wave and he a drowning sailor. The tingling delightfulness in my groin started to expand and my walls flexed, welcoming an intense orgasm. My eyebrows furrowed and mouth gaped as it shot up inside me, the wonderful spark-filled sensation. My eyes drifted out of focus, my head falling back, i was enjoying the aftertaste. My hand was still working on Obreon, now speeding up with the intent to make him groan.

Obreon tightened his hold on my thigh, his hips moving along with my hand. The cheeky bastard was basically jerking off into my hand. There was a viciousness to his movements, a desperate kind of lust.

Astarion parted their kiss and grazed his lips down the nobleman's neck, sucking on him, teasing his flesh. Obreon whimpered in bliss, allowing himself to be devoured. He was in a state, cheeks adorned with a heavy blush, clothes and hair disheveled. His voice formed a hoarse moan, whilst his hips continued to hump my hand. I was holding him firmly, moving quickly along his shaft. My thumb made sure to brush the tip of his member as it pulled out.

Obreon's voice cracked in the middle of a moan, his body shuddered and slowed down. I felt his seed in my fist, but i kept on stroking him. Obreon embraced me tightly, his thumb caressing my thigh. He was breathless as he humped me jerkingly throughout his orgasm. I pulled out my sticky, semen coated hand and shoved it into Obreon's mouth. He sucked on it obediently, cleaning my fingers with his tongue.

„Mm, what a good boy,“ i exhaled sweetly. Astarion glanced at me, he was still toying with the nobleman's neck. We understood each other well. His jaw flung open, sharp fangs glistening with saliva, and latched onto Obreon's flesh. Obreon gasped, but was still licking my fingers in his mouth. I smiled watching my lover drain him. My fingers dug deeper into Obreon's mouth, caressing his tongue possessively. His eyes drifted shut, long eyelashes fluttering as if he was dreaming. I could feel him sucking my finger, a heavy lustful gasp flowing from his lips.

„You were such a delight, my lovely elf,“ i whispered in his ear.

Obreon's body began to weaken, his hand released my leg and it dropped to the ground. Astarion embraced him and held him up, while the nobleman drifted silently into a dreamless sleep. Obreon's body fell limp, his beautiful face peaceful and dignified. Astarion placed his body into the snow. He stood back up and stared at the lifeless shape.

„It was beautiful, my love,“ i said serenely and reached out to wipe away the blood on Astarion's chin.

He turned to look at me, smug and pleased with himself. A hint of dark passion glinted in his red eyes.

„It's been a long time since i've seen someone welcome death so willingly. I expected him to put up a fight. Well, i guess this is what happens if you let yourself starve.“ „Or his parents never taught him to be wary of strangers.“

Astarion touched my cheek lovingly. „We must bury him, my darling. We have to find a place where we can meet him tomorrow, without prying eyes. He will be confused and in need of soothing words. Potentially dangerous.“

„We'll bury him in the forest. The ground is frozen, but i will melt it with fire. And i'll need you to call upon a mist even bigger than envelops this castle.“

„Aren't i lucky to snag a sorcerer. Consider it done, my dear,“ he smiled.

I kissed him and it tasted of dark lust. I couldn't stop, my hand drifted to his loins and squeezed his cock. It was hard and begging to be played with.

Astarion groaned into our kiss and mumbled, „behave now, my insatiable lover, there's a dead body that's in need of a burial. After it's taken care of i'm all yours.“ I gave his member a possessive squeeze before letting it go.

„As you want, my desire,“ i growled.

The fog that came over the town was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. I heaved Obreon's body over my shoulder and cast a flying spell. Astarion turned into a swarm of bats and we departed our hunting grounds. Roof tiles clanked under my heels as i soared from building to building. The swarm of bats was faithfully by my side, sometimes surrounding me like a halo. Below us echoed the cheers and chanting of the partygoers, some exclamations of surprise, some curses at the mist. Street lanterns gave the mist a golden glow, so defused and distant that it seemed unreal. Like the light that's seeping between the eyelids when they're barely open.

We jumped off the town wall and wandered into the dark forest. It was pitch-black but the snow made it seem lighter. It was still snowing, the moon was our only witness. We travelled deep into the woods, so deep that nobody should wander there by accident. I placed Obreon's body into the snow and looked around. The trees here were ancient and contorted, branches and nubs covered in fluffy snowcaps. Near me the flock of bats undulated between trunks, descended and took the shape of a man.

„There's a clearing worthy of a grave,“ Astarion said and trekked through deep snow to a place below a rocky hill.

The ground there was flat, no big trees around. The hill with boulders provided cover.

„Мove aside, dear,“ i said as i started moving my hands in circular patterns, channeling my fire.

A huge blazing sphere materialized above the clearing. I danced my fingers in the air and it lowered closer to the ground, melting the snow. When green grasses appeared i pushed the sphere even lower and it touched the ground. The smell of burning wafted up and i clenched my fists. The fire snuffed out. This wasn't enough, still. I cast a spell that allowed me to move objects around, then focused on the dirt and scooped a human-sized hole into the earth. Astarion carried Obreon to his grave and laid him to rest. I commanded the giant clump of soil to move back into its place and the body was finally covered.

I stared at the fresh grave. The deed was done, there was no way back. Tomorrow we will have to welcome whatever crawls out of that grave, be it doom or blessing. I could have summoned a snowstorm to cover the naked dirt, but we were too far into the woods to have a need for it.

„I hope it's not doubt in your eyes that i'm seeing,“ Astarion whispered with amusement, while embracing me from behind. „It was your idea, after all. His family will slaughter us with a concerto, if they find out what we did.“ His voice lowered in tone, becoming a breathy, sultry whisper.

He was pent-up ever since our debauchery in the gardens. His hands encircled my waist.

„I'm deeply impressed by your sixth sense for masochists. Perhaps i should leave finding all future spawn to you…that, and i love indulging your whims, my darkest dream.“ As he was talking his lips were leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. I sighed with delight, letting him seduce me.

„Кeep talking….and kissing me, my love. I was hoping you would want to fuck on his grave.“

Astarion laughed alluringly and spun me around as if we were on a dance floor. My hands landed on his shoulders and snapped to his neck.

„We were in the middle of something. Well, you were, at least.“

„Want me to continue?“ I laughed smugly.

„Mmm,“ he drawled lustfully, „a certain part of me has been waiting very eagerly to meet you again.“ Astarion pulled my hand from his neck, pressed it against his face and traced his lips with my fingers.

My eyes were burning holes into him. Astarion opened his soft mouth and stuck his tongue out, running my manicured fingers across its moist surface. A sting of pleasure shot up my loins and i snapped my other hand from his neck and cupped his crotch. Astarion's heavily-lidded eyes were glued to mine, desire written on his parted lips.

My walls throbbed, i simply could not resist him. My hand clenched his member through his pants, traced its prominent outline, then kneaded it possessively. Astarion's mouth gaped further open, it was inviting me to do horrible things. I pushed my lips against his, but didn't kiss him just yet. My lips rubbed against his, teasing, soothing. My hand on his crotch began rubbing him off. Astarion shivered from delight, his hands grabbing my waist and starting to lift my skirts.

I smiled and took his lower lip between my teeth, sucking it, then clamping down at full force. Astarion moaned from the sudden pain, his brow frowning, but he didn't stop me. I sucked on his lip while my hand was hard at work on his cock. The opposing sensations were driving him mad, conflicting in his brain, enhancing one another. I released his lip and grasped the front of his jacket, beginning to lead him backwards towards the fresh grave. He complied, staring at me with vengeful lust. I shoved him onto the ground. It turned me on that our 'third wheel' was underneath us, even in death. You shall serve, Obreon, serve in every possible way.

Once my lord was down i crawled on top of him, my hands reaching for the clasps of his pants. I opened them and set his hard, aching member free. Just looking at it made me wet, it was mine, only mine, i will do whatever i damn please. I stooped and stuck my tongue out, licking up his shaft. I made a dramatic pause at the tip and began teasing it with my tongue. A pair of shaky moans from below let me know just how appreciative my lover was. His moans echoed with tingles in my crotch. I reached down and stroked my bud, making sure that Astarion sees it. He stared, moistening his lips with his tongue. I lowered myself to suck his tip again, prodding it with my tongue, all this time rubbing myself. It was heavenly.

Astarion closed his eyes in delight, his hips thrusting upwards, asking for more. I gave his shaft a few strokes, while my mouth was working on him with wicked devotion.

„Just fuck me already, my love,“ he groaned out grimly, while in desperate need of release.

I gazed up at him with evil self-satisfaction, as my tongue was swirling around his tip. I was pleasuring myself shamelessly, putting on a performance.

„Is this begging worthy of a vampire lord? Don't think so,“ i teased him cruelly, returning back to slurping his length. I sucked his tip like a lollipop.

Astarion shuddered and moaned out loud. „Damn you, do you want me to beg?! You evil, wicked, wretched little…“ His cursing got cut off by a needy groan, since i sucked him in and gave his member a few rough, fast-paced bounces. I spat him out shortly and began kneading him.

„Shit,“ he swore crudely.

I chuckled and heaved my hips, my hand still between my legs.

Astarion gulped and gathered himself, it wasn't easy since his mind was foggy. „Alright…“ he panted. His voice became low and seductive, the kind that drove me feral. „I need you to fuck me…i beg of you, my darkest desire.“

I listened intently, of course that voice got to me. I took great pleasure in stroking myself faster as he spoke. I nearly gave in, but decided to torture him further.

I smiled looking at him, then shook my head cruelly.

Astarion huffed annoyingly and frowned at me. His mask was quickly broken.

„Fuck, what do you want now? A poem of 50 paragraphs?!“

His frustration was deeply amusing to me. Watching him squirm made my bud grow bigger and more sensitive.

„You wouldn't be able to make one, you're a shitty poet,“ i said with a hoarse chuckle.

Astarion glared at me without blinking, eyes narrow. My evil foreplay was starting to dawn on him.

„I could command you…“ He started, but i cut him off.

„Command me to what? Sit on your cock? No you fucking can't….“ I laughed loudly, getting a deep satisfaction from his blight. I moved down and ran my tongue across his length, leaving a kiss on the tip. Then sat up and added, „or you would have already done so. You're powerless, vampire ascendant.“

Astarion trembled as i teased his member, something in his presence shifting. His face turned emotionless while his upper lip curled, exposing his fangs. He lunged forward and grabbed my neck. He pulled me close until our faces almost touched.

„I'm powerless…and yet here you are grinding yourself against me. Look at yourself, you're absolutely dripping feral, you'd do anything for me. What is this if not power?“

I looked at him silently. This was a fun turn of events, i loved it when he grabbed me like that. I grasped his member and smirked widely.

„Not bad, but i'm not afraid of you,“ i said and shoved him back onto the ground.

He wasn't expecting that and growled at me.

„You witch!“

I waved my finger, scolding him alluringly. „No, no, be nice now, my beloved.“

Astarion stared at me with a deep frown. „You're enjoying this, aren't you? Does my suffering satiate your sadistic little heart?“

I licked my lips, my hands moving to undo the lacing of my bodice. I moved up on his body so that my hips were right above his. I sat down, my wet folds pressing onto his length. As i was untying my bodice i rotated my hips, grinding myself against his hardness. Astarion inhaled sharply and arched his back, enjoying the delightful friction. I opened my bodice and freed my breasts, my hips now grinding more intentionally. A groan escaped him and his hands snapped onto my hips, making sure i never stop.

„You have no idea, my beloved,“ i purred, carried away by the sweet sensation between my legs.

I humped him further, my movements becoming more rough and desperate. My vampire was grunting underneath me, jerking my hips faster and faster. I needed him inside me. I reached down, grabbed his cock and guided it inside me. It slid in effortlessly for my wetness had stained even the front of his pants. Entering me made Astarion gasp out in ecstasy, his chest heaving with each heavy breath. I started riding him, angling myself in a way that i could grind my bud against his stomach. Astarion's hands dug deeper into my hips, pushing me down harder. I was panting, moans of pleasure flying from my lips each time his cock brushed against my walls. We spent a while like this. Astarion's frown softened, his visage revealing a desperation for pleasure.

Suddenly he sat up and pushed me to the ground, nudging my thighs up and entered me again. It was fantastic! He held my legs and thrust into me with speed and vigour. Each friction of his delicious cock against my throbbing walls sending waves of bliss up my body. I sunk my claws into his shoulders and let him have me however he wanted. The ecstasy in his eyes was unlike anything i've seen so far – bliss, impatience, adoration. I felt the orgasm build and screamed as it expanded, my head flying back, eyes fluttering shut.

Astarion fucked me through my contractions, groaning from the intensity of the sensation. There was an absence in his eyes that told me, he was coming soon. His hips kept moving, unable to stop even if he tried, aching for the sweet kiss of release. Finally, he moaned loudly and grabbed me into a tight embrace. His hips were still moving, riding out his prolonged frustration. I stroked his hair and held him lovingly. Once he stopped we just lay there in each other's arms. Gasping and covered in dirt.

We returned to the city and enjoyed the luxuries of our rented cottage. We filled the wooden tub and had a bath, drank wine, rested on soft fresh sheets. I asked Astarion to wash my hair and he fulfilled my request. Then i washed his. I have become used to his presence, even during the most intimate moments, and i demanded the same from him. He didn't seem to mind it either. Astarion said he was always watching, but so was i. I watched him unbashfully as he bathed, changed or slept. He was a feast for my eyes, something worthy of admiration.

„You always stare so eagerly,“ he noted.

„You can return the favor, i don't mind feeling your eyes on me,“ i smirked alluringly, or…have you become bored of this?“ I ran my hand down my leg to make a point.

„How could i possibly get bored of you, darling? I chose you as my consort for a reason,“ he flirted back.

„I hope you chose me for my personality, because you'll never get rid of me.“ My flirtation had a dark aftertaste, a playful warning just under top layers. „The only acceptable divorce i'll take is decapitation.“

„Are you threatening me or flirting? It sounds the same coming from your lips, my love.“ Astarion leaned closer to brush my neck, whispering, „Do not fear, my love, i know about the hidden recesses of your mind, ah, the horrors that lurk in that darkness are abundant. I met you when you were a merciless assassin and was captivated by your steady hand, by your stoic character. Though, i know now that your stoicism was simply a facade, there's hardly anyone in Faerun more passionate in nature than you. We're a good match, don't you think ?“

His seduction worked well on me. I put my hand on his chest, my claws dragging on his skin.

„Say it!“ i hissed, my eyes burning with fire.

His lips formed a devious smirk, but his eyes were clouded by lust.

„I love you and i will burn the world down for you.“

I laughed victoriously, drunk on desire.

„I will slaughter anyone who dares to lay a finger on you.“

Astarion lowered himself slowly onto my lips, his voice a hoarse whisper.

„It's a promise.“

Next night we made our leave, i used a flight spell again. It was still snowing and the forest was even more difficult to travel. Large snowdrifts were leaning against trees, the wind was knocking the buildup of snow from tree crowns. The grave site was coated in a blanket of snow, but still lightly dented. The hill made finding the spot a lot easier. We stood at the foot of the grave, dressed in our furs and waiting.

„It's quite romantic,“ i said playfully. „Еven while waiting something to chew its way out of the dirt.“

„The noble family has probably noticed the absence of their oldest son by now, but there's no commotion, no search patrols on the streets.“

„You think they're keeping it quiet on purpose? The palace is being searched, i'm sure of it.“

„The Anvegg family wants to save face, we must use it against them.“

An eerie scream echoed in the distance, bouncing off trees and stone. I grabbed Astarion's hand out of instinct. He comforted me.

„It must be one of those hungry winter ghosts Ronegard was speaking about. It's a good thing they have been appeased.“

I looked into the darkness of the forest, something was watching us, something ancient and incorporeal. This land was truly haunted, haunted by monsters scarier than us. Suddenly the snow on the grave started moving, a hollow formed on its surface, and a pale hand reached out into the sky.

„He is coming,“ i noted calmly. We watched as the snow got shovelled aside, mixed with the darkness of dirt, and a figure crawled out. Obreon was hard to recognize, his clothes were filthy, hair tangled and stained by soil. His gorgeous eyes we now red, wide from fear and confusion. Obreon clawed at the snow, pulling himself further into the moonlight. His head was whipping around, looking for something in the trees. Then he finally noticed us and froze.

„Where am i? W-what have you done to me?“ The nobleman growled.

„You have been reborn, sweet prince,“ Astarion spoke to him smugly.

„With term and conditions, dear. Now you belong to us.“ I stepped closer and squatted down in front of him, gently touching his hair.

„What are you saying? What did you do? Did you curse me?“ Obreon stared into my soul. He was so confused, so dazed.

„You're a vampire spawn now. He is your master.“ I stroked his hair, cleaning it from dirt, nodding towards Astarion.

Obreon frowned and shook his head in disbelief.

„No, no….no! This can't be true!“

I took a small mirror from the pocket of my trousers and held it up in front of Obreon's face. His eyes locked on it, widening with horror. He crawled closer, staring into the glossy surface that showed no reflection. Something inside him broke, his head dropped, long hair dragging on the snow.

„Мy family will kill you for this,“ he mumbled.

„I'm afraid you won't be able to tell them. I don't want to exert total control over you, so i need you to behave. Being a spawn doesn't have to mean endless suffering, however, if you to put us in any danger…“ Astarion was menacing, confident and powerful.

He was going to be an excellent master and i was so proud of him. He was all mine.

„..Astarion will command you to walk into the sun,“ i finished the sentence for him.

Obreon clenched his teeth and made a loud whimper - as if about to cry or burst out laughing, a grotesque gag of a sound. He raised his head, eyes glistening with tears, mouth contorted.

„Whatever you planned is destined to fail. My family….the council… will never let themselves to be influenced and if they find out that i'm a…“ he struggled to utter the word, „they will burn me as a traitor.“

„Вurn their own son?“ i chuckled, my hand caressing his head. „That's too heartless for a man who introduced his family so lovingly. Come on now, it's not all doom and gloom. We will take care of you, i promise.“

I knelt and pulled the elf into my lap. Obreon didn't resist and laid his head on my thigh, i started gently stroking his head. It was an odd scene, but he seemed to calm down.

Astarion was satisfied with the outcome, he stood and watched us quietly.

„What happens next?“ Obreon asked.

„We will take you home, but first, you have to make yourself presentable,“ Astarion replied. „Your family should remain blissfully unaware of your nightly escapades.“

„You can take a bath at our place and we will clean up your clothes,“ i chimed in, brushing dirty hair off his cheekbone.

„And you will tell your family a story with a very happy ending: you succumbed to a night of wild debauchery with two of your guests, who lured you out of the castle. You got drunk and passed out somewhere, only to stagger back home the next day. You can add whatever details you desire to make it more convincing. Lying shouldn't be too difficult, since it's basically the truth.“

Obreon listened quietly, eyes distant. Confusion and shock was written all over his face. He was scared, too. I tried my best to calm him, we didn't need him to panic.

„And…what do you want to be called? Should i call you master now?“ The nobleman barked bitterly.

Astarion rolled his eyes. „Мaster is such an old-fashioned, formal title, i prefer something more…casual. You may call me by my name.“

„You must stay out of the sun and be ready for the hunger, sweetheart. Astarion, will you read him the rules?“ I averted my eyes to my beloved.

The vampire hummed and replied with a delay, „Things will be different from when i was a spawn and it's no secret i feel aversion towards my former master's rules. Mine will be a lot easier to follow. Keep your nature a secret, i recommend drinking from criminals, it's about time they'd be useful for something. Animals are another good source to keep in mind. Secondly, obey my every command. You won't mention us to anyone. And you will come when called.“

„Think of us as your extended family,“ i added tenderly.

„It's time, my love,“ Astarion gestured.

I cast the flight spell on myself and Obreon, whilst Astarion shapeshifted into a swarm of bats. The mist was still veiling the town, so there was no chance of being seen. I held Obreon's hand as we jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

„So, you're a sorcerer,“ he mentioned midair. „He isn't building an army of sorcerers and wizards, is he?

That made me laugh. „Оf course not, it was i who chose you.“

Obreon stared at me with a frown, worry and confusion plastered all over his face.

We landed on the balcony and entered our humble abode. I filled him a lovely hot bath. The noble elf seemed to enter another stage of apathy, he just stood in the middle of the room stolidly, eyes vacant. I had to undress him and he behaved like a doll, allowing to be manipulated without any resistance. I guided him into the bath, where he sat in silence. I washed his body, then his hair, led him out of the bathtub and wrapped him in a blanket. Astarion stood next to a wall, sipping a glass of wine. He offered it to me, as i passed by, and i took it gladly. I downed the whole thing and pressed the empty glass back into his hand.

The next thing that needed to be done were Obreon's clothes. I washed them, then used a fireball to heat up the room and speed dry the garments. When i entered the room with fresh laundry in my hands, i stumbled upon a charming scene. Astarion was drying Obreon's hair with a towel. He did it so gently, so methodically. Then he picked something from the table and proceeded to comb his hair.

I placed the folded clothes on the table and sat down, enjoying the view.

„Has he said anything?“

„No, he's been ruminating.“

„Can we really send him back in such a state?“

„He will be fine in a minute. I was in a similar state myself. Though, a lot more self-aware,“ Astarion snickered.

„Poor thing, he must be blaming himself,“ i said mockingly, tilting my head.

„This is just the first stage, rage will come next.“ Astarion knew what he was talking about.

In a way, Obreon was at fault. He did follow two strangers into the night and succumbed to their seduction. At the same time, his decisions didn't have much gravity in the outcome. We would have turned him even if he resisted. In that case, he would have been at a greater risk of death. I wasn't sure i wanted a spawn that fought against us. There was no use for a biting dog. Astarion would trust my opinion, i'm sure, he knew i was good at picking people apart.

I walked up to Obreon and cupped his face with both hands. „Don't blame yourself. If you want to hate someone, hate me. Your hate shall be the wind under my wings. I can promise you one thing, if you accept us, we will keep you out of harm's way. You shall taste all the pleasures of eternity,“ i said to him in the most charming way.

I needed Obreon to be strong and cast aside his doubts. He was going back into the lion's den and had to be mentally sound. Astarion, who was still combing his hair, sent me an amused glance.

„I'm giving him something to focus on,“ i whispered to my beloved. „It's better if his aversion is aimed at me, not at his master.“

Astarion shook his head in charming disbelief. „You're positively diabolical, my darling. Not to mention impishly clever.“

His praise tickled me like nothing else. „Мove aside, i'll dry his hair.“ My smile was sly and flirty.

I brought my hands in front of me and summoned a fireball. The brightly colored flame filled the room with elongated shadows. I blew onto the fire ever so gently and a wave of hot air wafted over Obreon's hair. I repeated this a few times before extinguishing the flame.

Astarion began combing his hair again as if nothing happened.

„I wish someone took care of me, instead of feeding me dead rats and carving my skin off. My spawn should be grateful to have me as their master.“

„I wish i met you sooner, i would have draped his intestines on palace windows. You will be a better master than him, it will be your advantage. Your gift to those ingrates.“

„You're as lovely as ever,“ he stated.

Astarion put the comb down and walked out of the room.

„I'll fetch us some more wine.“

I followed him with my loving eyes, but i got interrupted by the pressure around my arm. I looked at Obreon and confirmed that he was indeed holding me. His red eyes were glued to mine, bottomless and glistening.

„You never answered me.“

„What was the question, my dear?“

„Why did you choose me?“

I lingered with my answer, letting Obreon's eyes melt into mine, his expectations to churn and tangle.

„Because i liked you.“ My answer was blunt, yet alluring. „Weren't you attracted to us, too?“

„You seduced me.“ Obreon was feverish.

„And you enjoyed it.“ My voice was sweet as honey, dark charm in full bloom. „In fact, it seemed you were waiting for it your whole life, judging by the way you were humping my hand.“

I could swear i saw the shadow of hesitation sliding across Obreon's face. He was doubting himself, questioning everything, ashamed.

„I will neve forgive you,“ he said, „but i can't hate you either.“

Simply admitting that made him feel small and guilty. It made me happy to see that we had made such a memorable impression on him, that we were messing with his pretty little head.

„There's no need to sulk. Eternal life is a gift not offered to many. You shall prosper under a reasonable master. You ought to be grateful to have Astarion,“ i cooed and leaned in to leave him tender kiss on the lips. „Get ready now.“

Obreon stood up, wrapped in his towel like a protective shell. I turned my back out of politeness and heard his towel drop to the floor. He started dressing himself. After some time i turned around and he was in his evening outfit. I ran my hand up his chest and smiled.

„So handsome. You'll need a spell to hide those eyes.“

Obreon nodded silently. He closed his eyes and began chanting. I felt a burst of magic and when he opened his eyes, they were his former color.

Astarion was back, holding two glasses of wine. He seemed pleased to see that things were going well. He walked up to us and splashed wine all over Obreon's outfit. The latter stared at him in shock, but the vampire lord simply smirked.

„You're far too clean for someone who spent the night hugging the bottle,“ Astarion said. „This will help you with your mission.“

I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and dried his face.

„Just remember this, your new abilities brought you a lot of advantages, not just weaknesses. We will meet again soon.“ I kissed him sensually and he succumbed to the charm once more. My hands moved on their own, slithering down his chest and grasping at his sides. A heavy sigh fluttered from Obreon's throat. I kissed him for a second longer and pulled away.

„You have to go now,“ i said. „I'll take you.“

Obreon shook his head, still recovering from the kiss.

„There's no need. I'll go alone. It won't be hard with a dense fog outside.“

„Have a safe journey.“

Obreon dashed past us and down the stairs. I heard the door open and slam shut. Once we were alone Astarion burst out laughing.

„That poor boy! You messed up his head and his loins! I wouldn't be surprised if he is infatuated with you, anyway, he will be eating from your hand.“

I huffed flirtatiously, „Me? You were there too, if i remember it correctly, messing with his head just as keenly as i was. He's in love with us both. He just doesn't understand it yet.“ My hand slid down the trim of his jacket.

Astarion's hand took my waist and pulled me closer. „We woke his hunger and he will be coming back until it's satiated,“ he spoke in a soft, tempting voice.

„I hope he does. Lust is more powerful than fear,“ my eyes had a sinister glow. I took the glass of wine Astarion was holding and sipped.

[shining-scion]

Your heart always remembered this, but your mind is just starting to. 

Of course, you were too young to really remember anything at all, but you know.

You were too small to see past the walls of the deck, so it was all sky, all colors— pinks and blues and purples and stars. Oh, the stars, how you loved them, glimmering with mana you’d never harness for yourself, falling and trailing light and dust, marking the path to a place you’d never go.

If you couldn’t see past the deck walls, you surely couldn’t see their faces, but you knew who they were. She was a long coattail and a decorated sword at her belt, a wide brimmed hat that shrouded her face in shadow when she knelt down to speak to you face to face. She was a sharp confident voice that commanded and a cheerful song that celebrated. She was recklessness and passion and chance.

He was her mirror, a short shining pistol that covered her flank and a quiet smooth voice that spoke with purpose. He was tall boots and rough gloves, a worn map aged yellow clasped in his hand. You can’t remember his face either, but he was logic and reason and observation.

And you were with them always, from the moment you knew you were yourself. They would put you on their shoulders and you’d see the world from the eyes of indomitable giants, aboard a little world all its own as you strode through a much bigger one. You’d reach up and touch worn cloth, pull on rough rope, and sometimes you’d fly just close enough to a cloud that you could almost graze your fingers against it if you were quick enough.

There were others too. You know there was a shorter man who spent quite a lot of time playing with you when they were too busy to. You called him uncle, which they approved of, and found rather charming. You know who he is now, and the name you called him back in that dream of a memory was incorrect, said by a voice too young to know such a thing.

Both of you were in the room below the surface when it happened. The night was warm and seeping through the boards of the ship, creaking of wood replacing cricket song, and you had no idea where you were sailing to, or if you were going anywhere at all, or even where in the great sky you were. You were only in the sky, surrounded by faceless giants that laughed and split shiny things amongst themselves, and that was all you cared to know.

You were speaking to your uncle excitedly when he came in, ruffling your hair first before speaking with soft urgency.

Ship. Looks strange. Not one I recognize.

And then a reply.

War. Machines. Men.

A word you were told not to repeat.

He leaves, quicker than he came in. Your uncle tries to return back to the fun you were having a moment ago, but now you’re curious. You ask to go to the surface, where you can see the sky. He tells you you’ll catch a cold, but the night is warm so you know he’s lying.

You know not to be trouble when a lot of things start happening, so you try to return to playing. She comes in a few moments later, just as the room shakes.

She leans down to your level, but the light in the room obscures her expression. She speaks to you sweetly, calmly, but quickly.

It’s going to be loud. Stay here. Stay with uncle ???.

And she hugs you, and then she draws her sword, shouting words you don’t understand. Your uncle slams the door just as you see something bright and orange. He begins to open drawers and cabinets, stuffing a bag older than you are with things you don’t have time to see. He explains some things, but the words are big and unknowable. You only catch a few.

Military. Mechanical. Inhuman.

The room shakes and quivers, and you begin to cry as he takes your hand, rushing out to the deck, starry sky obscured by black clouds and bright hot metals you only see when they rush past you and hit a sail. 

There’s a man with her, and he’s wearing well pressed clothes with a stiff posture. His head is white but you can’t really tell.

There’s nowhere to go and all the giants in your little world are rushing to stand by her. The man you do not recognize has a ship behind him, and that ship has claws digging into the soft wood you thought invincible. The man says something without moving even an inch, a flat monotone voice you can’t make words out of. She draws her sword and stabs towards him, but he’s smooth and has something silver in his hand that he points when he steps aside and your uncle covers your eyes as another loud sound slams against your little ears.

Your eyes are covered as the world grows more unsteady, and when they’re not covered you’re running, and it’s so bright, but not like the day when there’s birds and singing. 

At some point your uncle is gone and your world is breaking and cracking and on fire. You find a big piece of what you now know is ruin, and you cling to it very tightly as it floats with magic you’ll never learn or understand, and when everything is quiet again you are alone and the sky is empty and you are small.

The sun shines down on your skin when something grabs the back of your shirt. You don’t look at your rescuers as they take you somewhere where the stars always shine and smog crushes your chest. They speak of you in a tone that makes you ashamed, that you were raised strangely, without “discipline”— that it’ll take strict effort to make you a person worth much at all. Your little voice doesn’t speak, instead staring towards that sky and wishing it was you departing from those docks you’re soon not allowed to even walk near.

There’s pirate in you, they say as you grow. Dangerous and untamed, impolite. You’ll thank us later, when you’re older and have a good head on your shoulders.

One of them insists you call them father, and the other insists she’s your mother, but you feel no attachment to either of them as they tell you how to dress and walk and speak and act and think.

So you become greedy and hold onto every piece of gold you can find on the street, from money for lunch you never buy, and then you sneak out one very cold and very dark night, to that dock, and you beg the man with the worn ship to take a passenger. He looks at you, and you’re a little taller now, so you look up back at him.

He steps aside and does not say a word. You lose another home that night.

You think you’re almost grown up when you see the men in the well pressed coats again. You know their name now.

Armada.

Your mind forgot, but your heart remembers, and when the metal men come to your new home, it’s only a matter of days before you act brashly, swift as you’ve become from years of exploring your world. You think yourself free now, and that was true— it feels very good to stand against the machines you don’t remember, until your little sword— a plaything, really— is knocked from your hands and you’re led away in chains, made an example of.

You smile bravely as they take you.

Now in your present, you lay in the same room he and she once did, and your mind knows their names now— Mama and Papa. You know some of their crewmates, and you know just exactly where they went to that made them so infallible. Now you’re to head there yourself, you assume.

The wooden boards creek in the darkness, and you can swear you hear your mama’s voice singing in the space between. The swaying of the old vessel almost feels like how she used to sway you on stormy nights, and if you close your eyes you can almost pull yourself back there, tear a hole in time just like a stormgate tears a hole to the outer dark. Some part of you is forever in this sky, your surname etched in the windlines— no longer bound by mortal syllabary, rather written in the script of stars and clouds.

Forever in the wind, never to be anyone’s daughter.

[kaivenom]

The Harry Potter World having a Spanish Wizarding School HCS Part 1

I know many people don't like Harry Potter anymore because of the author and i get it, i don't like J.K. Rowling either. That's when i realized that didn't exist a wizarding school in Spain, and Beauxbatouns don't exactly represent an especific culture (it looks more like a fancy rich kids boarding school). So, since i don't give credit or money to J.K. Rowling in any form, i decided to created a prototype of how wizards in Spain could be.

I give permision to use this info for OC's or inspo but please, give it the credit it deserves and not attribute the idea to yourselves and if you see someone using it, please tell me.

Masterlist | Part 2

I present you.....

"SierraEncantada"

The image is a reference

Location:

Grazalema's Natural Park on Aldalucía, Spain

History:

It isn't known how much older the school it is because it wasn't always on the south of Spain. Until the 1200 was on the north, nut then the Inquisition arrived and made a big fire and hunt to all the students (which is now called "The night of the Queima"). Thanks to the help of the King Alfonso X "the Wise", they could evacuate almost all of the students but the school and the evidence of magic were discovered.

With the school out of the map, the Inquisition tought they exterminated almost all the magic of Spain, which helped the King Alfonso to give funds clandestinely to make a new school on Andalucia, on the south (in that time this region of Spain was a part of the Castilla's reign, which was Alfonso's Kingdom).

Even with most of the previous knowledge was lost, they could remade the school house's and everyone tried to contribute to made new books about every subject. Alfonso's commitment was so big that he was burried in the new school and became a ghost after his dead.

The only thing known from the previous admisions of the school were that they permmited wizards and muggles to enter but after the replacement they don't let normal people enter.

Until these days, a lot of inofrmation is missing so it can be one of the most old school's of Europe.

School appearance:

Obviusly it is a medieval castle, which is placed between to mountains. It's surrounded bu forrests, waterfalls and mistic caves between many other natural settings. It has a lot of towers with silver colours, terracotta's walls, a lot of orange trees and enchanted fountains can be found all over the place.

Sometimes if you watch it from a long distance, the school looks like a yellow and silver waterfall between the mountains.

Thanks to the caves and the laws of natural life protecction given by the Spain Ministry of Magic, the school has many unique plants and creatures coexisting with the students.

Due to Andalucia's hot weather or just not very cold one, many of the school's classes can be done outside. Thats why the school has many open-air classrooms and terraces between floors. Exterior terraces are niveled and have gardens, resting areas and go all the way down thru the sides of the mountains. A lot of these places have exterior stairs to so you don't have to get inside to go up or down between floors (they all have railings and roofs to cover from wind gusts).

Because it is placed in between to mountains, the top part of the castle is habilitated to be the comedor for the students. In winter is covered and has big stoves, but in summer let's people see the night sky while dinning.

The Quidditch field is in a cave underground to preserve the temperature and avoid problems with being seen.

In matter of interior design, they have really open spaces and warm colours (thanks to musulman influence). Most of the decorations are made with wood, marble, colored glass, mosaics and tapestries. It has a lot of hidden passages to get out of the school, it was planned to be evacuating routes but after so many time, is now used by the students to get out.

Education on the school:

The school has classes during the morning in winter but in the summer they have classes in the afternoon and even nocturnal classes.

They have eight shool years, like Hogwarts but unlike the british school, they teach Animagus transformatión and dark arts (not just the defense against them). They get TIMO's at the age of 15.

Like many schools in Spain, they make excursions to emblematic places like the Ministry of Magic or Trasmoz (a Spanish village known for being habitated by witches placed in Zaragoza).

Thanks to the closeness of places in Spain, many students have the posibility to visit their homes on weekends but they have a special permit to do it.

Practically all magical children in Spain go to the school, the only exception are the ones whose parents don't want them to go but the Ministry is thinking about making the education obligatory.

The students get to the school thru the crouse that picks them up in different stations along the river or busses that peak them up in Grazalema under the address of a school trip.

The schools provides all the supplies to the students, which means making a trip to Trasmoz a week before the school starts. Some students already have materials, thanks to their parents being previous students but the muggle borns appreciate having the opportunity to be in equal posibilities with all the students.

Electronic or digital devices or any muggle technology is forbidden if it isn't registered when entering the school. The teachers have to permite it. Most of the times it's not permited but old phones without media signal or even analogic speakers are permited to "student's experimentation".

Spanish Wizards

Due to Spain's more increasing of dishabitation of the interior regions of the peninsule, many wizard villages are placed all over the territory freely but still there are a lot of wizards that like the chaotic style of muggles. That's why they know many things about muggle culture and devices, cause even if you live in the wizard's dictrict of Mdrid or Barcelona, you are connected to the muggle's ways.

Wands in Spain are made from typical trees such as eucalyptus, pine, castiñeiro, etc.

In the domestic elf's matter, it is a little less bad than in Uk. This is due to the connections with muggles, which makes elf's ownership a thing from the past (wizard families tends to have one muggle member, it's very mixed). The only ones who still have domestic elfs are families from the interior and old families. This makes the elfs an "extension" of the family or another member of it. Many families have been with the same line of elfs so many generations that are "part of the family" themselves. They still have the condition of servitude but it's rare to see wizard families using them in actual days.

All things related to houses will be in another post cause i don't want this to get too long.

[aramblingjay]

When the bones are good (Chapter 1) Clegan, hurt/comfort, post-war (3K)

The thing is, Gale is safe. He knows it. But the only thing that has ever made him feel unequivocally safe is Bucky. And god, how he just wants to collapse into those familiar arms. - Or: After the war, Gale gets on a bus to Wisconsin.

ao3

-

The thing is, Bucky is safety.

Gale wakes up with a scream lodged in the base of his throat, the kind of scream that would’ve woken the neighbors if he wasn’t well-trained by now to endure even the harshest of horrors in absolute silence. His first thought, just as it is every night he wakes like this, is that they’re being roused for inspection at the stalag.

He’s already out of bed, eyes wandering frantically to take in his surroundings, before his mind catches up with his body.

There are no curtains on his window anymore, and enough moonlight shines through to illuminate a map of constellations hanging on the wall directly in his eyeline, placed there specifically for this purpose. Every window in the stalag was boarded up to keep out as much of the cold as a few slats of decaying wood could, and there was certainly no wall decor.

Gale sits on the edge of the bed and releases a long breath. He’s home. In Casper, Wyoming, under friendly skies on friendly soil, not a threat within miles except for the four-legged kind in the woods at the edge of the property.

He’s safe. He’s safe.

But it doesn’t feel that way. His heart still races in his chest, the sputtering engine of a fort needing to be feathered, and there’s a pit in his stomach as solid as any ball-bearing that refuses to budge.

A scuffling sound in the corner—he springs off the bed and whips around, eyes wide, half convinced a kraut is about to knock him to his knees for being up past curfew until he sees the sheaf of paper rustling on the floor. Probably fluttered off his bedside table during the night.

The thing is, he’s safe. He knows it.

But the only person, the only thing, that has ever made him feel unequivocally safe is Bucky.

He’s safe, but Bucky is safety.

And god—how he just wants to collapse into those familiar arms, curled between broad shoulders that could carry the weight of the world and have certainly carried him all the way around it. He wants and wants, just like he’s wanted every single night for the last three months, but today—

Today, Gale pulls on his boots, stuffs enough money for a bus ticket in the pocket of the first jacket he finds, and starts walking.

-

It takes three days.

Gale doesn’t sleep for a single second of the journey, when before the war he would likely have seized the chance for uninterrupted shuteye before the bus even started moving. Now, after, the hum of the engine is nothing like the roar of a fort—he remembers proudly writing home to Marge once, young and naïve and drunk off the thrill of flying, that there was no sound in the world better than the roar of a fort in the sky—but it’s just close enough to the low groan of enemy fighters thousands of feet overhead to keep his eyes wide open.

There’s not much to see along the way, just miles and miles and miles of fields that all blur together over the days. It’s not until he sees the Welcome to Wisconsin signboard through the window that he starts to pay closer attention to each stop they pass, waiting for the one he needs. It would be just like him, really, to make it all the way here and miss Manitowoc by one town, like flying a plane with barely a working engine all the way to Africa and missing the runway by three feet.

God, how he misses Bucky ribbing him.

Bucky sent him a postcard, their first week back stateside. It had a picture of the Eiffel Towel on the front—where Bucky found that in the middle of Wisconsin he has no idea, but Bucky’s always been the most resourceful person he knows. The card was short and simple—Buck, I’m back home safe. Come visit anytime—but Gale has traced over the scrawled letters every morning since it arrived on his front doorstep, like touching the words would feel almost as good as touching the hand that wrote them. It was the closest he knew he would get, certainly. Until now.

It’s raining when he gets off the bus, but he’s marched in worse conditions than a light daytime drizzle. The return address on Bucky’s postcard—which he knows was the real gift—is about a half day’s walk from the main city, not that he spent the better part of an afternoon in the Casper library weeks ago working that out or anything. He’s determined to make it there before nightfall.

A couple of people give him odd looks as he passes through the busy parts of town. Whether that’s because the stalag still lingers on his face in hollow eyes and sunken cheeks, as clear as if former POW was tattooed on his forehead, or because he really does look like this Buck from Manitowoc that’s supposedly his namesake, he ignores them all. There’s only one face he wants to see, and he’d bet all his money Bucky avoids town now just as stubbornly as he used to frequent it.

No other reason for him to pick a place on the very outskirts of the city, several miles from his family.

Twilight approaches. The rain worsens, falling in heavy sheets. He’s wearing a light leather jacket with no hood and is soaked to the absolute bone, but the steady left-right-left-right rhythm of his feet never wavers. He’s marched through Germany in the bitter winter, half-starved and crawling with fleas, waded through snow with threadbare shoes expecting nothing but a cold grave at the end of it all. This, good boots on his feet and the promise of seeing Bucky on the other side, this is easy.

What’s new is that now, there’s an ache in his right knee with every step. Another souvenir of the war. The doc asked him, when he got back to Thorpe Abbotts, if he knew what caused the initial injury. No idea doc, he remembers saying. Take your pick, I guess. Between bailing out, landing hard, interrogation, and the stalag, the opportunities were endless. The truth is that he doesn’t know, not because he can’t remember but because it wasn’t any single blow, just the relentless grind of one thing after another pushing his body to the limit until something finally broke.

His knee. And maybe, he thinks some days, his mind.

In any case, it means he can’t move quite as fast as he used to. By the time the moon is up in the sky, surrounded by constellations he once knew how to name, he’s not nearly as far as he hoped to be.

He briefly considers stopping for the night when he comes across an empty bench by the side of the road. It’s kind of place he’s spent the night more than once, but he’s no longer just the kid who learned to sleep rough anywhere he could get horizontal for a few hours. An uneasy fear crawls down his spine at the thought of lying in the open like that, vulnerable on all sides. There are no krauts this side of the Atlantic, but he dismisses the bench all the same and keeps walking.

Almost there.

He thinks of Bucky’s wide smile, the curl of the cowlick on the back of his head, the feel of his hand cupping Gale’s cheek in that bar a lifetime ago, and keeps walking. Almost there, almost there. God, he wants.

He’s just starting to think maybe he needs Crosby here to give him a more accurate bearing when a house comes into view. There’s a little porch light on, and Gale would cry if he could at the indication that someone is home. Bucky, hopefully.

He’s long past keeping up appearances, several states away from home with nothing but the clothes on his back, and runs up the dirt path to the house, bad knee be damned. Only when he’s already cleared the stairs, each one groaning under his weight like the wood has seen better days, does he consider that Bucky is most likely asleep.

Gale comes to a standstill in front of the door, suddenly nauseous, the decisions of the last several days catching up to him in a rush.

Shame rises like acid in his throat, hot and scalding.

He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be here, at Bucky’s doorstep in the middle of the night, disturbing him without so much as a warning. He should’ve written ahead, asked permission—he should’ve responded to Bucky’s postcard at least, something, instead of turning up unannounced like this, a bad smell that lingers, the stone in a shoe he used to accuse Bucky of being without ever really meaning it.

Goddammit, what was he thinking?

He shouldn’t be here, not like this.

There’s a raw, scratchy pressure behind his eyelids that he doesn’t think about, and his feet feel like lead blocks as he turns away, but he turns away nonetheless. If Bucky’s found some kind of peace here, he deserves to keep it.

“Buck?”

He stops. Flinches despite himself, despite it being the most beautiful sound he’s heard in three months, Buck in that familiar voice. Turns, carefully, like it might all be a dream.

And it’s not, it’s not, it’s not, because Bucky is right there in front of his eyes, alive and solid and so very real.

“John,” he whispers, like a prayer, and then the world slides away.

-

He comes to, if it can be called that when he hasn’t really passed out, on his knees on Bucky’s porch, warm hands pressed against his shoulders.

Bucky’s hands. He’d recognize them anywhere.

“Hey, c’mon. Scared me half to death storming up the stairs like that in the middle of the night. What’re you even doing out here in—jesus, you’re drenched. Get inside, c’mon.”

The words wash over him like a salve, the familiar drawl, the timbre, the cadence. He rises to his feet, helped in no small part by Bucky’s steadying hands gripping his arms, and staggers into the house. It’s not quite the entrance he was planning to make, even before he realized coming here was probably a monumentally selfish idea.

Too late, he wonders if maybe Bucky’s settled here with a nice Wisconsin woman, and he’s gone and interrupted that as well.

But there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. Just Bucky, who deposits him on the couch of what looks like a living room, flicks on a lamp, and hands him a glass of cold water. Their fingers touch, briefly, as he takes the glass, and Gale doesn’t think about that.

He takes a sip, then another, only realizing after he’s drained every last drop how parched he was.

“You look like shit,” Bucky opens with, standing and leaning back against something he can’t make out in the half-dark.

Bucky’s eyes are roaming over his body in a precise, methodical scan—checking for injuries and signs of illness. Gale has no room to complain, because he’s doing the same back. Like they’re both still in the stalag, aware the other would sooner gnaw off their arm than admit something was wrong, but even more aware that the smallest thing could tip the scales of survival.

All in all, Bucky looks alright. He’s clearly been eating his portions, filling out his sleep shorts better than he would have when Gale last saw him. He’s freshly shaved, his clothes clean, his hands steady enough by his side that he can’t have touched a bottle in at least a day or two.

There are also bags under his eyes dark enough to be shiners, and his hair is long and messy and clearly a month or two out from having seen a barber, but Gale would be more worried if Bucky looked perfect, ready to stroll onto the front pages of a G.I. Joe magazine like he wasn’t on death’s door not four months ago.

“What’s the matter, huh? You’re worryin’ me here.”

Only then does he realize he hasn’t said a word since they came inside. It’s hard to find any, confronted with the enormity of Bucky in front of him. This is what he travelled three days and four states for, but now that he’s here, all the words shrivel up and die on the tip of his tongue.

I’ve been falling apart without you there to hold me together, he thinks, but couldn’t say all that even if he could shape the sounds.

“Fallin’ apart,” is what comes out of his mouth instead, raspy from having said nothing to anyone after ticket to Wisconsin ma’am several days ago.

Bucky’s face, illuminated in beautiful planes by the lamplight—not that there’s any kind of light that doesn’t love Bucky—softens into something so raw and fond that Gale has to look away.

There’s that pressure behind his eyelids again, every time he blinks, but he hasn’t been able to cry in years. This won’t be the moment that changes.

“Buck—”

“No one’s called me that in—” Well, three months and six days, give or take, except he knows exactly how many days and hours and minutes and fucking seconds it’s been since Bucky’s see you on the other side, Buck back in England, before they crossed the Atlantic in different planes and came home to different states and the only thing he had of Bucky was a few words on a knockoff Paris postcard. Knows exactly how long it’s been since he felt like Buck, or like a person at all, because he has no idea who Gale is and doesn’t really want to find out, but he’s always been good at being the Buck to John’s Bucky.

He’s had three days to plan what he was going to do after landing on Bucky’s doorstep, and spent every minute of it thinking instead about Bucky’s hair and his shoulders and his smile and his voice and the feeling of safety he’s been missing for so long. Still, that’s no excuse for what falls out of his mouth next.

“Feels safe.”

Maybe the excuse is that he hasn’t eaten or slept in days, probably weeks if he’s being entirely honest. He’s soaked to the bone and his knee hurts something fierce and the soles of his feet aren’t as accustomed to this after three months of sedentary life as they once were and there’s a great big fog in his head that’s making any kind of thinking quite difficult.

Or maybe the excuse is just that Bucky’s always been his weakness.

“Christ, Buck. Alright, c’mon, let me get you some dry clothes. C’mon. I’ve got a guest room, you can crash there. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

He stands and doesn’t think too hard about the fact that Bucky’s using his gentlest talking new recruits down from the ledge after their first mission voice on him, too busy drowning in the safety and comfort of it instead. “In the morning,” he repeats, and doesn’t even realize it’s a hidden question until Bucky answers.

“It’s my house, you numpty, of course I’ll still be here in the morning. Up you go, c’mon.”

Bucky shepherds him up a narrow staircase, a hand ghosting over his back but not quite touching. Gale briefly contemplates tipping backwards just to feel those hands catch him, but they’re at the top before he can decide—he thinks about before, when it was easier to count the days Bucky didn’t touch him than the ones he did, and wonders how it’s come to this.

Then again, Bucky hasn’t asked any questions and is offering him a place to sleep after letting him in during the middle of the night. Maybe what they are to each other now doesn’t look like shoulder pats and thigh grabs and a hand on his cheek anymore, but this. Maybe this can be enough.

He falls asleep in Bucky’s clothes, dwarfed by slightly-too-long pants and a slightly-too-broad crewneck that smells just like the man, and has never felt more at home in anything he’s worn.

-

Gale wakes up to a scream. It takes him a distressingly long time to realize it’s not coming from him.

After that realization, however, he’s out of bed and padding across the narrow hallway toward Bucky’s door before he’s really even conscious of having made the choice to do so, breath a harsh pant in the silence. He imagines he was probably reliving some vivid horrors of his own before Bucky’s scream broke him out of them—only difference is, whenever Gale wakes up he can’t find it in himself to make a single sound.

Bucky’s door is slightly ajar, but not enough to see inside without giving himself away. Would Bucky want him to come in? Would he, if the roles were reversed?

In the stalag every man had his own demons to fight in the night, whether the echo of flak or ghosts from the past or simply the winter chill. Men sniffling into their pillows in the small hours of morning or taking themselves into hand for a different kind of relief was all met with the same detached, resigned, whatever he needs to see him through. No one looked twice at the sight of two soldiers bunking together or otherwise finding comfort in whatever way they could, not in a place like that.

This is Bucky’s house, not the stalag, but most nights Gale wakes up and can’t immediately tell the difference. Perhaps, in some ways, it isn’t so different at all.

There’s only one decision to make in the end.

“Bucky?” He pushes open the door and walks toward the shape in the bed, taking care to announce himself well before he’s within arm’s reach. There’s a faint thought in the back of his head that a man shouldn’t enter another man’s bedroom for the first time without express permission, but he pushes it away. “You alright?”

“Was starting to wonder if you were gonna haver outside my door all night,” Bucky says, neither soft nor scornful, just a statement. But he shifts his pillow just a fraction, a clear invitation.

Gale shuffles over and maneuvers himself into the narrow space on the bed, hesitating only for a moment before pressing his knees to the back of Bucky’s thighs and throwing an arm around Bucky’s waist. They’re well-practiced at the art of fitting two bodies into a bed barely large enough for one, and though the Wisconsin summer is too warm for this kind of tangling of limbs, that’s a price Gale is willing to pay to have Bucky this close.

It’s been a long time since he’s been held. It’s been equally as long since he’s held someone—since he’s held Bucky, the only person who has ever offered their back to him in this way, not as a reproach but with an offer to guard it.

He shifts on his pillow to find a more comfortable position and resolutely does not think about why there was already a second pillow ready on the bed.

Minutes pass, long and short in the surreal darkness. He keeps time only by the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s chest beside him and lets the fragile peace of the moment stretch on. Sleep is a long way away, but that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing pressed up like this against Bucky’s warmth.

Bucky breaks the silence first, because he’s always been the braver of them both. Willing to tread paths anew, where all Gale has ever wanted to do is close his eyes and follow Bucky’s lead. “What’re you doing here, Buck?”

He knows how the question is meant, but that’s not something he can answer. His mind is clearer than it was just a few hours ago, could probably produce something better than feels safe, even though that’s still the truest thing he’s said in weeks, but he merely replies, “Heard you scream. I wanted to—” There are a million things he could add but Bucky knows all of them, doesn’t need to hear check if you were okay or be sure the krauts hadn’t come back or maybe even hold you in my arms. He falls silent.

Bucky, because he’s a kinder man than Gale deserves, interrupts before he has to decide which of those to say. “Sorry I woke you.”

It’s not really an apology, or at least not for that. If anything, it feels like a tacit acknowledgment of their situation—Gale is at Bucky’s house in the middle of the night, Bucky has nightmares that make him scream, these circumstances have led to them spooning in Bucky’s bed.

In some ways, this is everything he wanted in coming here. In other ways, the distance between them feels larger than ever, this close to Bucky but separated by all the things they aren’t talking about.

“Usually I’m the one screaming at night,” Gale offers, because Bucky might be the only person left in the world to whom he can say something more than stiff pleasantries.

“Is that why you’re here, then?”

Coming from anyone else, the question would be unfathomable. But Bucky’s allowed, has always been allowed, to peek into the parts of him that are fortressed off to the rest of the world—maybe, deep down, part of the reason he came here was specifically to be poked at in just this way.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he says honestly. “Just—couldn’t be there anymore.” Whether there is Casper or the stalag he visits every night in his dreams, he doesn’t know himself. Couldn’t be alone anymore lingers in the air, unsaid but likely heard all the same.

“I’m glad you’re here, Buck.” Quiet and sincere, like a confession.

“Mm.”

Gale closes his eyes, and doesn’t dream.

[ofthewoodwork]

Enhance Your Space with Of the Woodwork’s World Map Home Decor

Including world map home decor into your living area offers an interesting mix of wanderlust and elegance. Our area of expertise at Of the Woodwork is transforming areas with distinctive, handcrafted designs that tell a story. Including a world map in your house not only creates a beautiful visual focal point but also encourages adventure and inquiry. Our selection of world map wall décor is meant to inspire your imagination and improve the look of your house regardless of your level of experience with travel or dream of far-off places.

[watagashiiiii]

🧠 stardew valley

mod list ② 🧠

🎮Gameplay Mechanics

🧠Better Beehouses

🧠Farm Type Manager (FTM)

🧠Tractor Mod

🧠Automate

🧠Winter Grass

🧠Skull Cavern Elevator

🧠AutoAnimalDoors

🧠Automatic Gates

🛋️Interiors

🧠Asters Beam and Kitchen Mod for Farm Building Interiors

🧠Less Ugly Spouse Rooms

🧠Increased Fish Tank Capacity

🧠Cozy Farmhouse Kitchen

🧠IdaIda's Wallpapers and Floors (CP and AT)

🧠Coop and Barn Facelift (Content Patcher)

🧠DustBeauty's Rustic Country Walls and Floors for Alternative Textures

🧠Make Your Bed

🧠Clean Bathhouse Spa- Recolour

🧠K10_FTW's Woods Wainscotting Walls and Floors for Alternative Textures

🧠Expanded Big Shed

🧠Oasis Greenhouse

🎈Items

🧠Trinkets

🧠Wooly Plushies for Alternative Textures

🧠Ilyeana's Bearcrows for Alternative Textures (Scarecrows)

🧠Wildflour's Specialty Ales and Meads

🧠The Strawberry Way and Celeste

🧠Floral Essences by Wickedy

🧠Hatmann's Strange Weapon Collection

🧠Axolotl Scarecrows

🧠Custom Resource Clumps

🧠Shell Collection - JA

🧠Animal Statues for Alternative Textxures (AT)

🧠Natural Terrarium Project - Critter Additions

🧠Tractor Remodel for Alternative Textures

🧠IdaIda's Craftables (for CP and AT)

🧠Bug Net

🧠Fish Breeding Tanks

🧠Hisame's New Recipes

🧠Witchy decorations (Json assets)

🧠PPJA - Artisan Valley

🧠Wickedy's Theater Concessions Vending Machine

🧠Displays

🧠Doll Maker

🧠Project Populate JsonAssets Content Pack Collection

🧠Character Scarecrows for Alternative Textures (AT)

🧠Fippsie's Alternative Lamp Posts

🧠Seasonal Path and Flooring

🐮Livestock and Animals

🧠BFAV Axolotls

🧠Better Ranching

🧠Prospurrity (BFAV Cats)

🧠BFAV Shops by Asunai

🧠Ancient Animals (BFAV)

🧠Farmable Pam for BFAV

🧠Paritee's Better Farm Animal Variety (BFAV)

🧠Otters Coop Animals -Alternative Textures-

🧠Otters Barn Animals -Alternative Textures-

🏖️Locations

🧠DeepWoods

🧠Boarding House and Bus Stop Extension

🧠Mermaid Island

🗺️Maps

🧠Lnh's Community Center Expanded

🧠Lnh's Natural Cellar

🧠Lnh's More Greenhouse

🧠Walk to the Desert - Redux

🧠Stardew Aquarium

🧠Starblue Valley World Recolor 1.5 Update (The Dirty Fix)

🧠Lnh's Farm Cave

📝Miscellaneous

🧠Integrated Minecarts

🧠Giant Crop Fertilizer

🧠Tap Giant Crops

🧠AtraCore

🧠Non Destructive NPCs

🧠Natural Terrarium Project - Custom Flying Critters

🧠Mermaid Paths and Flooring

🧠Realistic Wildflower Grass for More Grass

🧠Alex's Frozen Treats

🧠PPJA Icon Pack for Better Artisan Goods Icons

🧠Stardew Foliage Redone - Foliage Only

🧠(Content Patcher mod) Pam Scarecrow

[desos-records]

Chapter 3: Little Talks

First | Prev / Next

Ghost possession doesn't happen often, but fatality rates are high. Even if an agent does survive, there are the aftereffects to worry about.

After surviving a possession, Lucy Carlyle struggles with recovery, delving ever deeper into the memories of Visitors and, in the process, stumbling into the world of blackmarket Sources.

Meanwhile, George Karim races to learn the truth behind ghost possession in order to protect Lucy and save future agents.

And Anthony Lockwood must face his own past with the London underworld if he wants to save his friends and himself.

-

Little fragments of Lockwood's childhood appeared wherever Lucy looked in the little attic room. While clearing out the wardrobe, she found quilts sewn with iron threads and decorated with cartoonish lions and unicorns, done in the agency colors of Rotwell and Fittes. Silhouettes of animals made from colorful silver-glass hung from strings by the window, catching the morning light and throwing cheerful shapes over the walls. A small rubber duck with glasses and a pith helmet guarded the shower. She found toy rapiers while poking through boxes one sleepless night.

The other boxes held old mosaic tiles or bits of statues—ears, noses, fingers—wooden flutes or maps of countries she'd never heard of. What had Lockwood's parents done for a living anyway?

Usually it helped, having concrete proof of her present, when she caught herself slipping into the past—hers or, more often these days, someone else's. But nothing seemed to help her against Annabel Ward.

Lucy struggled to breathe through shallow lungs. She leaned against the cold wood of her attic room door and slid down until she landed, curled up in the space between it and the stairs. Even many hours later, the thick hands of Annabel's killer still pressed around her neck. 

Frustration boiled in her gut. If she had to relive a death loop, could she at least remember what the man looked like? All she had to go on was a looming silhouette. The outline of him cut into her eyes, superimposed over Lockwood's pale face.

you love me, don't you? you love me

She remembered saying it and desperately wished she could just be embarrassed about it. Instead, she felt everything Annabel felt, a sickening need to placate the man's every outburst, a blind, obsessive, careless love, and a fear running deep through her like cold water under ice. Betrayal tore through her chest, or maybe that was pain from lack of oxygen.

They weren't real feelings—she repeated that over and over to herself. Or not her real feelings. She damn well wasn't going to placate him about anything. She certainly wasn't afraid of him. And she wasn't in love with Lockwood, just like he wasn't in love with her.

Besides, Anthony J. Lockwood fit right in with all those polished people in the society pages he read. Lucy could just imagine that Headline Hero smile of his lighting up a magazine. Whether Lockwood & Co ever got off the ground or not, she knew he would be shaking hands with Fittes and Rotwell and whoever else one day. 

She was no starlet, just a nobody from nowhere. Her self-cut bangs, wrinkled skirts, and Northern accent made her stick out, and not in the right way. She knew that. Not that she envied Annabel Ward, mind. She'd much rather be a nobody than end up dead in a chimney with all the gory details splashed over the papers.

you'd never hurt me

Annabel's doubt twisted her stomach even as she said it, but Lockwood would never strangle her and brick her up in a chimney. She trusted him like she trusted the sun to come up in the morning—more so, given the dark London winters.

It was not real. She knew that. Even through the cold, twisting ghost fog turning the light of the library a plasm green, she'd seen the expression on Lockwood's face when she touched him. He flickered like a broken magnesium flare, sparking with shock, concern, unease. Light fractured over his eyes—ordinarily dark and warm, always reminding her of returning safely home following a difficult case—carrying a hollow kind of pain she couldn't place.

She'd asked him if she hurt him and for the most part she'd meant the long, jagged gashes Annabel Ward left in the arms of her killer. Part of her also meant that flash of pain she saw in his face, the hitch she heard in his breath.

Tears cut burning tracks down her face that would. not. stop. no matter how she screwed her face up or brushed them roughly away. A frightened ache of betrayal, laced with delayed anger, twisted through her, infecting every vein and artery.

She leaned her head back against the door, hands curling into fists so hard her nails dug crescent moons into her palms. Agents controlled their emotions above anything else. She could beat this if she just tried hard enough.

But she couldn't breathe. Her hand came up to rest against her throat like she was still trying to break the man's hold. Strangled sobs leapt out of her no matter how she braced her teeth together.

Back home, Lucy never cried. Not if she could help it, not where anyone could see or hear her.

Stop sniveling, her mother had said once, or I'll really give you something to cry about

Now, tears spilled down in heavy waves. She bit into her fist trying to keep her heaving breaths quiet. As she shivered under the weight of them, she suddenly realized that these tears did not belong to her and so she could not stop them.

A knock vibrated the wood behind her and she shot to her feet, stumbling against the stairwell walls as her head spun. Distantly, she understood she was hyperventilating, but she could not work out how to break out of it.

"Luce?"

Fear struck her hard as lightning at the thought of Lockwood—anyone, but especially Lockwood—finding her like this. Some agent she was, he'd bench her for sure, probably turn her out when he found out how she couldn't control her emotions like a proper agent. He'd already overlooked her lack of a Grade Four. Who would trust a cowardly, blubbering girl like her to back them up on nasty cases like Annabel Ward? The cases that earned the money and prestige the agency desperately needed to stay afloat.

What would he do when she wasn't useful anymore?

The memory of her mother's cold, dead eyes glaring at her from the doorway washed over her. She could almost feel her cheek still stinging.

"There's doughnuts. As promised."

Lucy shook her head and rubbed her hands hard over her face to shake herself free. How long had she been sitting there, drowning?

"Be—" She took a heaving breath, digging into her lungs in search of air. "—be right there."

Silence for a moment, except that she swore she could almost hear Lockwood thinking on the other side of the door. Her mind warred with itself. She wished he would leave, wanted him to stay, could not bear it if he opened the door.

"Is everything alright?"

Her gut churned with fear now that she'd been found out, but she managed to pull words out from her closing throat. "I'm fine," she said.

His disbelief had a sound to it, she thought, the hum after a bell stopped ringing. She shook from the effort of keeping herself from bolting and never coming back.

"Can I come in?"

Anthony Lockwood had many different tones of voice, more than most in Lucy's experience. He had the confident, steady rhythm of an agency leader, the low, charming roll of a rising star, the battered, limping voice of an exhausted teenager. She'd heard it all.

All except this one.

He spoke softly, but not in the hurried way he might on a case. The warmth of it sank down into her bones. It reminded her of his steadfast hold when their hands found each other during cases, the reassuring squeeze he sometimes gave her.

Not everyone is out to get you, Norrie would tell her.

Lucy opened the door.

The instant concern in Lockwood's face—like he'd found her bleeding instead of crying—only made another wave of tears spill over her cheeks, running down to her jaw. She caught them before they dripped off her chin and turned her face away, blinking furiously, trying to clear her watery vision.

"Sorry," she started, "Just—"

"Lucy." He reached out like he might take her hand—hers were still braced in shaking fists—but he hesitated.

The gentle way he handled her name pushed all the fear out of her lungs. She could take a deep, steady breath without her ribs feeling like they might crack.

Fuck it.

She put her arms around his shoulders and rested her head against his collarbone. Her tears bled into his jacket. For a moment, he stood there rigid, tense as hugging a ghost lamp. Doubt crept in around the edges, but she didn't move.

Please, please—find me like you always do, she wanted to say.

Slowly, he moved. He placed one arm across her shoulders and the other around her lower ribs—hesitant and so, so different from careless, confident Lockwood. He held her with almost no pressure at all, as if afraid she might break or bolt.

After a moment, when it proved obvious she wouldn't do either, he relaxed and pulled her closer. His hands pressed into her back, warm and secure. She could feel him breathing and tried to match the steady rhythm.

This was real. He was real. Not the shadowy hands and leering figure. This boy with his stupid, posh voice and his Greek fire smile and his big, old house filled with memories and the smell of burnt toast.

"It's okay, Luce," he said softly, voice humming against her ear. His head leaned comfortably against hers. "I've got you. You're safe here."

She couldn't bring herself to say anything. Whatever she thought of sounded just the wrong side of sincere. Besides, she didn't have much more energy than it took to hold onto him and breathe.

"Nothing like that will ever happen again. I promise." He squeezed her gently, only letting go when she stepped back and not a moment before.

[cleanyoman]

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[rin-and-jade]

hello, cohost of a relatively newly discovered system here, i just saw a post you made in response to new system ask, and i was curious about how we would go about developing an innerworld.

i am led to believe we have aphantasia, so we cant "picture" anything in our head so i dont know if that prevents us from having a headspace/innerworld. i know some systems just dont have a headspace (a roommate of mine has DID and she has told us that she does not have a headspace, and she cannot communicate with her sysmates outside a discord server)

anyways, i was just curious if there would be a way for us to try devloping an innerworld or not after reading that post. ty

I can be of help to you, but this will heavily depend on yourselves as im here only capable of sharing what might work, from my own experiences.

To understand what makes innerworld an innerworld, by simple means,, it is a place that is reconstructed by senses mentally, vision (mental images) is one of them. You see where this is going.. right?

What if you try it by theory, i know you can't imagine, but im sure you know what it'll be like correct? For first advice, a small but functional innerworld will do because navigating in a big one whilst being 'blind' does not spark joy. Ok so, let's start the steps:

Using your other senses (tactile and hearing) as advantage: How do you want your floors,, is it solid, warm to touch and smooth? That could be porcelain. Straight ridges, un-even textures and cool to touch? That could be wood planks. Fluffy, scruffy texture and it damps noises? That could be carpet/rug floors. Now how do you want your walls,, is it wallpaper patterns you can feel by tactile? Maybe you want it the regular way that is painted smoothly? How thick or thin do you want it to be, enough to produce an echo from a knock or nothing at all? The rest then lies on personalization like furnitures and decorations,, i bet you can do this yourself. Also recommend you by practicing with little things for now and work from there, to bigger things.

Map it out: after determining which fits best, this is where the floor plan is arranged, you might want to draw it out physically (or use apps/webs its ok), from arial, or from side, or in 3d,, anything works. This will help you keep the world consistent as you can't see, as well as serving as a map to navigate around. I also have aphantasia where i can barely see anything as it fleets away so fast (i believe its in a spectrum, i saw it), leaving me having to navigate by touching the walls and guess the floor and temperature (i think windows make rooms feel hotter and in this case my living room has a big balcony). Do not over do the items as it can block your walking route leading to unnecessary bumps, if you want shelves or something hanged above, place them in a reasonable spot because bumping to it by forehead or elses is annoying.. i changed the height of my hanged shelf at the end and it never happen again. Especially if you don't have the innate 'gps' to navigate around.

Teamwork makes dreamwork: I assure you that you don't want to do this alone.. why not share some ideas of what the fronting room should 'look' like, or what the communal place should,, this is honestly done to make everyone feel at ease living in it, as well as sharing the work. You CAN do this yourself but it feels overwhelming and could lead to a burn out.. anyway, it'll take a while to properly build a world, so don't feel bad if its still going to be on progress for months,, no worlds are made perfectly in one try. Incase if you want to remodel the world to a new one at future, just repeat the steps.

Hope this serves you as an insight, this has definitely work for me, and i am not 100% sure it could for you, though, you still learn a few things from here. If you feel like giving up or see this as too much work there is no shame,, and so, i wish you the best luck.

- j

[okapirose]

I built Elias's house from "The Ancient Magus Bride"

I started in January (actually before January on my old computer) and decided to finally call it done. Ignore the skeleton horses they're eventually getting moved I just didn't have a place to put them lol

I built this in the Vault Hunters season 3 mod pack which is absolutely addicting and I've been having a blast with both with running vaults as well as just building.

This house and the island I built it on have been the biggest project I've ever done in Minecraft.I didn't plan any of this in a creative world. Fortunately Kore Yamazaki provided a lot of references to the house and its interior which made layout and decorating pretty easy. Some parts like Elias' bedroom felt too bare so I added more bookshelves. There is apparently a room in the house that we've never seen inside of and doesn't seem to have windows, hence why there's a blank wall. I didn't decorate the inside but right now its where my Spirit Extractor is for when I die in a vault.

The trouble with the overall build was the surrounding landscape, because for all Yamazaki has given us for references of the house, the land around it is largely not mapped/shown except for the front's flat walkway.

I knew there was a pond somewhere and of course the portal to the faerie kingdom farther into the woods (which btw are all custom trees) so I took some liberties with placement. I also added a "food stuffs" garden to the left of the house and a few sitting areas with more books and flora. The Gazebo/well that Josef snoozes in is missing and I may add at a later time if I feel like it.

I also didn't want to leave the front area open and plain so I built Nevin and his tree facing the house. I think the tree took me as long as it took me to do the house lol To help fill in some of the empty landscape I made some massive Woolly Bugs floating about and giant mushrooms.

Finally, I also had a need for honey for my underground build beneath the house so I made another house in the corner of the island for my bees to automatically make comb and bottled honey. The design was loosely based on one of GeminiTay's but it was mostly for roof reference because I suck at different heighted roofs.

Below Elias' house is what I call The Honeycomb, inspired by one of the Vaults' themes for my storage, forge, and other things.

Overall I'm very happy with it. If I had time/energy to devote more into it, I'd tear out and terraform the island more and fix the sandstone wall, but I have other ideas for this world and I've outgrown The Honeycomb's storage and unloading after every vault takes almost as long as it does running them.

Next project is already underway and is another anime house, though considerably larger <3