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fellow-travelers-fic-recs · 4 months

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Fellow Travelers Fic Recs - Top Rated Fics (by hits and kudos on Ao3)

Be sure to show the authors some love and appreciation with kudos and comments on the fics you enjoyed!

✨ Likes are lovely, but please reblog to share this content with your mutuals! 😁

🟪 sacred word, bind me by @brokendrums // brokendrums [E, 8K] Tim takes a vow of silence, Hawk vows to break it.

🟪 we are tragically meant to be by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 1.5K] He looks softer in his sleep, Hawk muses; fingertips lightly skimming over the ridge of Tim’s cheek bone, the curve of his ear feeling the small indent from where the frames of his spectacles rest whenever he’s awake. Part 1 of fellow travelers

🟪 feeding on chaos and living in sin by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 2K] Tim doesn't expect Hawk to call. And even when he does, the call doesn't go as Tim expects. But then he should probably stop trying to predict what Hawkins Fuller will do. Part 2 of fellow travelers

🟪 more. by @redmyeyes // redmyeyes [E, 1.8K] "You would drop to your knees and blow me right here if I told you to," Hawk said, marveling at the realization. Part 2 of Fellow Travelers * *Red has their own series, not to be confused with fuddlewuddle's series of the same name. Two different series'--same name!

🟪 I'd walk a thousand miles without my shoes to make it work by @fuddlewuddle // fuddlewuddle [E, 1.5K] The strip of milk on Tim’s top lip gives Hawk ideas. Part 3 of Fellow Travelers

🟪 all through the midnight. by southernkiss [E, 9K] Hawk's eyes burned with lust and something dark, something that both terrified and excited Tim.

🟪 teacher's pet by @ascandalinpink // ascandalinpink [E, 10K, WIP] Tim’s first class for today is his first class ever in this particular elective. It’s a foreign affairs course taught by professor Fuller, whom Tim has never met, but he’s heard about him. All high praise, which leaves this course highly sought after.

As the professor enters the classroom and the chatter around him dies down, Tim understands perhaps why this course is so popular. And it might have nothing to do with the curriculum itself.

Or, Tim starts sleeping with and develops feelings for his college professor.

🟪 have you ever? by Cozy_coffee [M, 1.4K] “Has anyone ever licked that cute little ass of yours?”

A fic in which a bold Hawk introduces a somewhat shy Tim to the pleasures of rimming.

🟪 a joy, hard learned by @partialresonance // partialresonance [E, 12K, WIP] Tim and Hawk get snowed in together.

Later, Tim comes back from the war a changed man.

🟪 perhaps, perhaps, perhaps it's real by drabbleswabbles [NR, 16K, WIP] And then it happened. The metallic screech of the gate, the shuffle of men stepping out beyond the prison walls. And suddenly there he was. His hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it. And his glasses were different. But it was him. Their eyes met. Tim stared at him in wide-eyed shock before recognition melted his features into a confused outrage.

Basically a fix-it in which Hawk finds himself back in the early 70s.

🟪 sweet by Kimora_V [M, 1.4K] Tim noticed how Hawk is being sweet lately.

Or, what happened before the cuddle scene in episode 5.

🟪 this spells love by Cozy_coffee [M, 540] When Hawk gently cups his cheek and calls him ‘my beautiful boy’ and looks at him with nothing but pure, everlasting love, that is all Tim’s heart needed in this tender moment.

🟪 flame trees by @waterlilyrose // WaterlilyRose [G, 1K] (“I received a package from Marcus a few days later. It had been sent by Tim. I thought that Tim’s last gift (and a gentle fuck you to me) was that paperweight. But no...”

“What did he send?” Kimberley asked gently. Her father had looked at her and almost seemed ready to tell her… but then he closed his mouth.

“More than I deserved” was all the answer he gave. Kimberley wondered if he would even be Hawkins Fuller anymore if he didn’t have some secrets.)

Or, Hawk keeps Tim's final parting gift close as he faces his mortality.

🟪 lost somewhere by @trainofcommand // anagrrl [E, 1K] Humming to himself a little, fingers digging into his palms briefly, Tim leans forward.

🟪 together, here and now by Kimora_V [NR, 1.8K] Hawk and Tim are happy, set in the modern day. Because I am just tired of sad stories all the time.

🟪 love by ikharys [E, 1.8K] "It's going to be okay," Hawk whispers.

Something in Tim's eyes makes it clear that he doesn't believe it, but he's not willing to argue.

Or, the cabin scene, but a little different.

🟪 mad about the boy by @redmyeyes redmyeyes [E, 2.8K] “Tell me,” Hawk said, tilting Tim’s head back to give his forehead a quick kiss, “what does my boy want for his birthday?”

“Am I still? Your boy?” Part 3 of Fellow Travelers

🟪 you're my religion by anonymous [E, 956] After Tim and Hawk’s conversation on the bench, Tim does go to Church, and eventually finds that Hawk has attended the same mass.

Things go awry in the chapel.

🟪 i want you to fuck me by @carnivalrow // nightfall_in_winter [E, 2K] THAT scene from Episode 8 but slightly different. :) Chapter 1 is Hawk's POV, Chapter 2 is Tim's POV.

🟪 who do you belong to? by mrschesapeakeripper [E, 2.5K] “That’s my good boy.” All those years later, and the praise still made him blush.

Or, the missing scene from the mutual masturbation episode. None of that "no touching" nonsense.

#ftficrecs #fellow travelers fic recs #top rated fics #ftfics top rated fics #fellow travelers #fellow travelers fics #tim x hawk #hawkins fuller #tim laughlin #signal boost #ftfics collections #ftfics jan24

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muppetebbtide · 1 year

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classical name allusions in the locked tomb

sorry guys I'm a one trick pony. I'm sure most of these have been said before but I LOOOVE pulling on threads until they tangle up and get stuck so. these used to be in alphabetical order but then I remembered about some lol. spoilers for all the books. I'm not arguing anything I'm just kicking rocks around

alecto

one of the three furies sent to punish mortals for unforgivable crimes (like killing family members... or ppl who have 'sworn false oaths.' get that.)

alecto specifically was sent by juno in book 7 of the aeneid to stir up war amongst turnus and aeneas; she impersonates the latin queen and pretends to be a priestess. might pay off, might not.

cassiopeia

queen and mother of princess andromeda (from the perseus myth); infamously vain, boasted that she and her daughter were more beautiful than goddesses and got andromeda stuck on a rock as a sacrifice, good job hon. as punishment gets chained to her throne and set as a constellation forever (this does make me wonder about the parallel to alecto there w the chains, but I don't know if it's worth pursuing, likely not. but I have seen theories that like alecto, she's not actually dead)

tamsyn notes in the back of harrow that this comparison is 'doing her a disservice', however

juno

roman queen of the gods, goddess of marriage, ideal wife etc etc, honestly I think she is likely just called that for the matriarch vibe but if anyone has an insight on why else she's named that lmk. she's a lot chiller than the mythological juno is generally portrayed fjfhjd

priamhark (harrow's father)

priam was hector's father and king of the doomed city of troy; he had one hundred children, almost all of whom die. you can see the parallel I'm pulling here right.

pellemeana (harrow's mother)

peleus was the father of the vastly overpowered achilles, who was his only son. same implication; hundreds of kids from priam + one incredibly OP kid from peleus that spelled the doom of lots of priam's kids = barebone parallel to harrow's creation

if this means we have to consider harrowhark to be either achilles, or hector, or achilles-and-hector... lol oh dear

(if that makes gideon either patroclus or andromache... bonus fear. terror even)

sarpedon

I mean as far as I remember admiral sarpedon wasn't that important so far, but sarpedon is a son of zeus in the iliad that patroclus kills while impersonating achilles. it's like his Big Kill. zeus considers saving him but the others are like 'you didn't let US save our kids' and he's like 'damn true :/' and stops trying to intervene

cytherea

allusive of aphrodite; it's another name for her, linked to the island where she was supposedly born from the seafoam. an interesting choice. I do like that the dress she's first described wearing is 'seafoam green frills' though, it's like a little clue. the wiki points out that cytheran aphrodite was adopted from the canaanite (ha ha) deity astarte, and had war-like aspects that were later suppressed, which makes a lot of sense.

might be worth noting that if we're going with the ouranos-genital-seafoam thing for aphrodite's origin, that in one version the furies including alecto were also created then, from his blood. they're basically sisters. fun. (or not so fun for john but whatever)

palamedes

palamedes in mythology was the one to put the infant telemachus in front of odysseus's plough, and therefore force odysseus to renounce his faked madness and go to troy; odysseus never forgave him for this, and one way or the other he gets him killed.

(one might also look to the arthurian sir palamedes, who was in unrequited love with iseult, lost her to sir tristan but wasn't a little bitch about it, and then goes on a quest concerning a 'questing beast', and eventually in one version he, percival and galahad trap the beast in a lake and slay it, so stick a pin in that why don't you)

originally called diomedes (who is, as tamsyn puts it, 'athena's favourite goodboy') but I think that could say interesting things about his ability to go up against lyctors (or even jod) since with a little help from an A-named goddess, the big thing diomedes does in the iliad is wound two gods and make them flee the battlefield... hm

also diomedes is one of the only ones who makes it out the other side of the trojan war lol

camilla:

possibly allusive of the warrior maiden camilla in book 11 of the aeneid, who kills hella men before being killed herself (because she's the token lady warrior on the opposite side in an ancient epic, she can't survive haha how preposterous.)

happily camilla as she is in the locked tomb cannot be killed off as camilla... because she no longer exists as camilla. paul's here now. say hi.

ulysses:

a (roman) name for odysseus. I know john SAYS he didn't name him after the mythological one, he named him after a dog (the implications there are so... bad), but john lies like a rug and frankly insisting that he didn't makes me feel even MORE like he did, or even if he's not lying it works anyway.

after all, odysseus wouldn't have gotten far without athena's divine intervention; one might even say he owes everything to his patron god, the same way ulysses literally owes everything to john since he and titania were the pet projects from pre-resurrection

I do not want to talk about james joyce I only read one chapter of ulysses for a seminar and that was enough thanks

also, what was ulysses known for but vanishing for ages, being presumed dead, then pulling back up miraculously Not Dead and killing a bunch of people. he could be back... he had that suspicious stoma death like augustine. this is making me realise that loads of the lyctors have suspect deaths

(also by the time the romans got to odysseus they were kind of dubious about him since he had a lot of non-roman traits like 'no honour' and 'outright lying to people for funzies' so if he does come back I half-expect him to be a bit of a nightmare lol but that's probably unfounded)

pyrrha:

as mentioned by tamsyn, the name that achilles takes while he's disgused as a woman on scyros to avoid the war, but exposes himself as achilles when he forgets himself and tries to fight instead of flee. I think the parallel there is pretty obvious lol

(and achilles's son, who goes absolutely nutters and kills loads of people in the siege of troy, is called neoptolemus... or pyrrhus.)

means red-haired as well lol... it's a great name for the g1deon / pyrrha / wake / gideon car crash going on

#i might have forgotten something/someone but this is what I got rn #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth #harrow the ninth #tlt #my post

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spiralingemptyness · 5 months

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I worked on Christmas Eve (voluntarily (that’s really weird spelling))….

never again… never fucking again

anyways hc’s for mortal kombat

but a bit angsty with other games incorporated into it…. Also mainly Lin kuei trio

Kuai Liang and Bi han both have scars due to their power things (still don’t got a name for it), Bi han has frostbite/ice looking things, and Kuai has different level of burn scars

Tomas still got sacrificed by a cult but he kept his past memories (except for the sacrifice itself) and reunited with his family, b4 they were murked

Liu kang probably has some memory or dissociation problem for being alive as long as he has (Geras helps ground him tho)

The realization of being second best stung to Kung Lao, but when he realized he was second best in every timeline is what really shattered

After Shang tsung’s laboratory, Kung Lao claustrophobia became worse

Liu kang always keeps shao khan away from Kung Lao, he’s not taking another chance that what happened in mk9 happens again

bi han and kuai used to have a older sister, bi han remembers her while kuai has vague memories/deja vu feelings bout her

Bi han and Kuai Liang still got taken by the Lin Kuei (only the mother survived with them before later killed), Bi han saw both his father and sister killed, while Kuai doesn’t remember what happened

Only Bi han knows bout the dark parts of the Lin kuei, Kuai and Tomas are left in the dark, but both have suspicions

raiden has random muscle spasm because of the amulet

Madam Bo is a mother figure specifically to Kung Lao bc he has mommy issues (🤷)

Bi han lost out on his childhood when he watched his father and sister die, Tomas should’ve lost his when the cult took him but lost it when his family was murdered, Kuai lost his when his when the Lin kuei took him in

sektor is more chill in mk1 bc he’s not the grandmasters son, instead he’s someone who could never be good enough in his fathers eyes

bi han would take punishments for Kuai and Tomas, finding any excuse, reason or lie to get them out of trouble

same with Bi Han, never good enough in the grandmasters eyes even when he was bleeding

the grandmaster before bi han basically gaslighted and gatekept everyone, he’s a shady guy with a shady past, but seem so nice, but his training ends with you coughing blood, passing out of dying

I have more bc but I currently have a puppy who is treating me and my phone like a chew toy

#hc #mk1 #mk9 #angst #lin kuei #bi han #kuai liang #tomas vrbada #kung lao #liu kang #geras mk #raiden #i want a hug #sektor

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bluegekk0 · 11 months

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Hello there, curious lil goblin here, I was wondering what started your Feral PK au?? As in, what was your first post regarding the au and if you’ve figured out how he ends up “feral” ??

hello! hope you're having a good day!

it's a bit of a story. it first started with the random idea i had for pk returning after the game's ending, but since i didn't want to think of a bullshit reason for him to come back to life, i thought to myself "hey what if he was in some kind of coma or hibernating, and the knight hitting him was what woke him up?", which was inspired by the fact that his body disappears when you return to the throne room afterwards. the hibernation itself i thought would be an interesting way for him to deal with being completely mentally broken down after the infection returned, and would work as kind of a reset that would allow him to function again

then i thought it would be interesting if his powers were gone as a result, which funnily enough was inspired by my pc drive dying twice. i thought "what if the hibernation being interrupted messed up his brain and thus ended up stripping him of his powers, similar to how you risk losing valuable data if you power off your computer while it's processing it?". so he ended up without powers, which i later expanded on with his backstory. basically, he was never born an actual god, and was a weak runt among his siblings, so the god-like powers were quite frankly just him finding ancient writings from other gods and deciphering them in order to learn the spells and have a chance to defend himself (and later to create a prospering kingdom, as he had a fascination with mortals). and because the hibernation's final goal was to essentially reset his brain, he ended up losing a chunk of his memories, particularly the distant ones, which included his knowledge of spells

one of those spells was the ability to sustain himself with soul rather than eating actual food. he had two reasons to do that. first, while he was still a giant wyrm, it was so he wouldn't have to eat anyone. difficult to start a kingdom if you eat all of the mortals, isn't it? then, after changing forms and creating the kingdom, he continued doing it. why? being born a runt that had to fight for scraps for most of his life, it was coded in his brain to eat fast and sloppily, and get defensive over your meal. that part never left him, and thus whenever he eats, he acts like a wild beast and he can't control it, no matter how hard he tries. so he continued sustaining himself with soul to avoid grossing out his wife, the retainers and everyone else, and out of fear of hypocrisy (as he was the main voice behind the "rise above beast" mindset)

the unfortunate side effect of him barely eating actual food was that, while on the outside it seemed normal, it was slowly killing him. the lack of proper nutrition made his body weak and sickly, he would end up in a constant cycle of being sick, healing himself with soul so that no one can tell, and then falling ill again and so on. he hid it from everyone, even his wife, and pretended that it was fine and there was nothing to be worried about. i like to think that this connects to the fact that, outside of his natural immortality, he was never a god. his body was built to eat and digest, he couldn't change that. the soul was just a temporary solution that he decided to cling onto out of fear of being rejected

and because he lost those powers, after waking up from hibernation, he was forced to eat to survive. it was a clear situation. eat, or you'll die, no tricks this time. so he did, and over time grew more comfortable with doing it, as there was no one around to judge or fear him for it, and he "failed the kingdom anyway. so what's the point of acting all proper and kingly now"

he would run around hallownest doing that for weeks before hornet found him and took him to dirtmouth. he was afraid that he would be rejected for his more feral instincts, but to his surprise most bugs in there did not particularly care. as long as he did not do it out in the open and didn't hurt anyone (which was an extremely important rule for him anyway. only hunt animals, never other sentient bugs), they didn't really judge him for it. moreover, he reunited with grimm, who very much supported the idea of fpk just being himself and finding happiness in doing that. so he never stopped hunting and eating animals. it was a part of him, and grimm was right, rejecting it did nothing but hurt him. both mentally and physically

as a little fun side story. the actual idea for him being a bit of a feral little beast and eating raw meat was lowkey inspired by a fanfic i read. i can never remember the title, but essentially the part in which he was attacked by xero and ended up killing him with his own teeth and claws was what got me thinking. i thought it would be fun to see this great king of hallownest chasing and eating bugs like tiktiks or vengeflies like a feral animal. a little bit of hypocrisy for that extra spice. also, it carried over to my idea of how the whole xero deal went in my au. it is a bit similar to what happened in the fic, with pk protecting baby hornet, except here he ends up not only blacking out and killing him with his jaws, but also begins to eat him in a blind feral and ravenous state, before he collects himself and runs back to the palace with hornet. i think it's not only a cool mental image, but also gives him a reason to 1. be more afraid of embracing his instinct while he was a king and 2. be extremely careful not to hurt other sapient bugs during his hunts after he lost his powers

but yeah, hope this answers your question! and sorry if it's a bit long, i have so many thoughts about him and i had to restrain myself from going all crazy about it hahaha

#ask stuff #feral pk au

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nostalgiachan · 1 month

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Blooddrunk

Thirtieth Prompt: A drunken night out

C/W: basically NSFW (vampire feeding GONE SEXUAL whoa wow), blood

Summary: Vier wants to take Astarion out for drinks, but remembers there's only one real way for him to get drunk. Good thing she's a cleric. (3,018 words)

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It had only been two months since Vier had brought Astarion to her home in Dawnshire, but she could tell the provincial life was making him a bit antsy. While his nights in Baldur’s Gate had been an endless nightmare of blood and suffering, the fact remained that the hustle and bustle of the city was what he was used to. Eventually, she hoped he’d come to enjoy the comparative peace and quiet of small town life, but it would take time before his wild heart settled into it. What he needed in the meantime was a little excitement.

Perhaps, Vier thought, a night out on the town would do him some good. While much of the village was still rebuilding in the wake of the nautiloid attack, through sheer providence, the Golden Dew Inn had survived - not a particularly bawdy tavern, especially by Baldur’s Gate’s standards, but still a lovely place to spend an evening. They could head out, mill about town a while, get some drinks and–

Wait. Shit.

Did Astarion much care for drinking if it couldn’t get him drunk? And now that her mind was on the subject, how was he able to drink wine, anyway? She was certainly no expert on vampire biology, but to her knowledge, all food turned to ash and all drink to bile in a vampire’s mouth, thus the whole need to consume blood. Had that been why he’d always complained about perfectly good wines tasting like vinegar, or had he just been hard to please? And despite his attempts at drinking, the only time she remembered seeing him actually drunk was that night he’d exsanguinated a bear.

Planning a date would’ve been hard enough for Vier had Astarion been mortal; how did one go planning a date with a vampire spawn?

The memory of the night with the bear stuck around a bit longer than expected, and slowly, a question rose to the forefront of her thoughts: would she be able to replicate that effect with her own blood? How much blood did a bear have, exactly? Obviously, more than your average mortal, given the massive size difference. Even if she allowed Astarion to drain every last drop from her - a thoroughly idiotic notion, given she was not about to waste a truly hard-earned resurrection scroll on a flight of fancy, and she doubted that Withers (wherever he was) would summon her back if she ended up dead of her own folly - he still likely wouldn’t receive the same amount of blood.

But there was always her steadfast ally, the lesser restoration spell, wasn’t there? Casting it on herself had become almost as much a daily ritual for Vier as giving thanks to Lathander at each sunrise. Frankly, she was amazed Astarion hadn’t gotten tired of her taste yet, given how he indulged himself in her each and every night. She worked out a few more numbers in her head. By her estimation, she could lose about a liter and a half before she would need to cast the spell. Once she crossed that line, it would be much more difficult to focus on casting, and once she hit two liters, she was almost certainly a goner. She could cast the spell up to thrice, with short breaks between to allow time for the blood to regenerate, meaning she could give somewhere between four-and-a-half and six liters, all in all. Would that be enough?

As her mind lost itself in puzzling out the details, her body was left quite vulnerable as she sat on the couch in her office. Sensing this moment of weakness, a certain pale form was drawn to her side, quietly wrapping its cold embrace about her shoulders and startling her nearly out of her skin.

“Oh, dear,” Astarion cooed into her ear as he nestled his head against her left shoulder. “Someone looks deep in thought. Nothing’s troubling you, I hope?”

“No, no,” Vier quickly breathed as her pulse quickly evened out. “Just thinking, is all. Though now that you’re here, I wanted to float an idea your way.”

Astarion picked up his head to get a better look at Vier as she regaled him with the details. “Ooh, by all means, float on.”

As Vier walked him through the entire thought process, from the desire for a date night to the blood plan, a smile slowly crept across his face. “You know, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you being so sweet on me,” he finally said as she wrapped up her explanation, “but I do have one teensy concern. See, as much as I absolutely want this,” - his words positively dripped with desire - “are you sure you’re not going to hurt yourself? A bloodthirsty scoundrel I may be, but I’m not as alright with the idea of accidentally killing you as I used to be.”

Vier couldn’t entirely tell if he was joking with her. “I would hope you wouldn’t be alright with it at all, but we’ll get there one day, I suppose,” she grumbled with a grimace. “And about the only thing I’m sure of is that I want to try this for you. Worse comes to worse, I keep the resurrection scroll in a hidden drawer in my desk. I know you’ve already figured out how to pop that one open.”

With a tut and a pout, Astarion asked, “Have I really gotten that sloppy?”

“No, but I know you, dear,” Vier explained, “and I know you’ve probably rummaged through every container in my dormitory and at least half of those in the rest of the temple by now.”

“Aw, you really do know me,” Astarion said with a wistful sigh and a mischievous glint in his eye. “Promise I haven’t stolen anything, though; you took a great risk convincing your colleagues to let me stay here, and I swear I won’t do anything to get myself thrown out. On purpose, anyway.”

An opportunity presented itself, and Vier simply couldn’t pass it up. “You’re being a good boy?” she asked as her head leaned in just a touch, a sly smile crossing her face. Astarion responded in kind, leaning in even closer.

“Oh, I’m being a very good boy,” he hummed, his voice dropping dangerously low and quiet with each word.

“Which is why you’ve earned this little treat,” Vier replied. But just as Astarion could no longer contained himself and pressed in towards her neck, she put a finger to his lips to stop him. “Ah, wait, before you start.”

If Vier didn’t know any better, she’d have thought the man had started panting with anticipation. His red-eyed gaze locked on her intensely as she pushed him back just a hair. “Do you think you can keep your feeding clean, or should I put down some rags? I’d rather my office not look like the infirmary when all’s said and done.”

“I’ll keep the feeding clean, I’m sure,” he breathed with impatience, “but I make no guarantees about the rest. Now, may I?”

Something about the way he asked flipped a switch in Vier’s mind. A warm blush spread across her cheeks, and her gut fluttered like it was their first night all over again. It was going to be a lot harder to focus if her mind was half turned to love-drunk mush. This elf truly did have an incredible power over her, didn’t he? The next word came out much weaker, much softer, much more submissive than she’d initially intended.

“Please.”

With a flash of a fanged smile, Astarion reached across Vier’s lap and guided her to straddle his waist. The moment she was mounted and ready, he threaded one of his pale hands into her sussur bark hair and pulled her throat down to his eager mouth. His plush lips pressed against the skin in a teasing kiss, as if he wanted to make her wait for what lay just behind them - as though he hadn’t already shown her just how much he wanted to dive right in. She wanted to roll her eyes and say, “Sweetheart, just get in there already,” but the familiar sensation of his teeth finally piercing into her neck stopped the words.

Vier braced herself against the top of the couch as Astarion drained the sweet crimson from her, the sound of his lewd swallowing filling her ears. She wanted to cling tightly to him, to grip him by his luxurious hair and pull him in more and more, but she needed to stay focused. She couldn’t let herself get lost in the feeling of her lifeblood blissfully ebbing away and the delicious pain of his fangs piercing deep.

But gods, was it hard. Vier’s pulse had already been set to racing purely by being wrapped in Astarion’s deathly cold embrace, making it difficult to gauge when it began racing due in greater part to the blood loss. The heat of her body seemed to rise and fall in equal measure as he drank deeply from her. Had he started drinking faster, or was that the illusion of her brain beginning to cloud over?

No, don’t lose focus now.

Vier recentered herself, slipping as she was into the haze. She lifted a hand from the back of the couch, and intoned the words, “Vincere est vivere”. This was Astarion’s cue to take a break for a moment, and to her slight surprise, he freed her from his hungry jaws, slumping back onto the cushions with a half-lidded look in his eye. Vier’s body followed, her head resting against his shoulder a moment as the blood quickly regenerated within her veins. Her breathing steadied, her mind cleared, and her body temperature evened out - though as her faculties returned, each would be sent into total overdrive.

Once her head stopped swimming, she simply couldn’t help herself from turning his face towards her and kissing him deeply, harshly, the acrid taste of iron filling her mouth as their tongues collided. It was almost embarrassing the way she loved how he killed her, little by little. She could feel his skin growing the slightest bit warmer to the touch, and a distinct movement beneath her let her know he was enjoying himself as much as she was. At that rate, they weren’t going to make it to the second round. But for the experiment’s sake, they needed to continue.

Vier pulled away, her breathing ragged, and moaned out, “Alright, keep going.” Astarion wasted no time obliging her, swiftly pushing back her hair and tucking in once more. Loudly, Vier whined as fangs once again met flesh and her blood became his. Though she should have kept herself braced, did everything she could to maintain awareness, she was getting far too into it now. Once more, her heart set to beating wildly in her chest, once more her mind was awash in a haze of confusion and arousal. She could feel his nails digging into the back of her neck and the base of her spine. She couldn’t tell which of the two of them started grinding against the other first, but both of them were greedily pulling at each other, wanting to sink deeper inside one another.

Astarion was moaning now, growling now, as he feasted upon Vier, and though he’d promised to keep things clean, he was beginning to grow quite messy. At first, only a trickle of blood escaped the confines of his lips. But then, the trickle grew into a stream which traveled down Vier’s chest, staining her white blouse a deep maroon. She could feel him start to pull away, intent on following the stream and catching what he’d lost on his tongue, but she kept her hand locked on the back of his head to hold him where he was - if he pulled out now, her blood could very well end up staining more than just her shirt.

Once more, the edges of Vier’s vision began to darken, and as much as every fiber of her form seemed to cry out for that sweet, final release, she needed to restore herself. Again, she raised her hand, and again, she spoke the words. But this time, her mind and body struggled to summon up the healing energies within. While they did find their strength at last, would she be able to do it once more, or would she be too far gone to pull herself back?

More importantly, would Astarion have the willpower to stop himself? Because with the second cast, he didn’t release Vier immediately. No, he seemed to clamp down tighter this time, desperate to take just a bit more before the positive energies coursed through her circulation and sent him reeling away with a sputter - for the days of being healed by healing magic were once again behind him. As he leaned back on the couch once more, a groan pouring forth from his blood-soaked mouth, Vier noticed something peculiar - the sclerae of his eyes had turned pitch black, a curious reaction.

“It’s funny,” Vier rasped, her breathing slowly growing less haggard as the restorative magic took hold again, “your eyes look just like mine now.”

“Do they, now?” Astarion asked, his words coming out in a relaxed drawl. “Then I must have some lovely eyes, indeed.”

With a tired laugh, Vier’s head slumped onto Astarion’s shoulder once more. His skin had begun to gain a blush of life, nearly as warm as her own. If she listened closely, she swore she could almost hear a faint thud somewhere within his chest. Her lips returned to his, the sanguine taste even more overwhelming now as her tongue delved deep within.

“Are you ready for the last of it, my sweet,” Astarion moaned after their lips finally parted, “or are you going to make me beg?”

“Oh, I’m very tempted to, dear,” Vier chuckled dangerously, “but you did say you’ve been a very good boy, so I won’t keep your treat from you. I’m–”

The word “ready” had barely left her tongue before Astarion pounced upon her for the last time. Harder now, he bit into her, tighter now, his arms constricted her, as though he feared she could escape his clutches at any moment. Cries of pleasure echoed across the walls of the office, cries which Vier was far too gone to attempt to stifle now. She tried to snake one of her hands down into the infinitesimally small space between their legs to massage the mound which pressed against her, but her arms quickly grew weak with the speed of his feeding. Her mind struggled to remember her purpose, torn as her body was between sweet ecstasy and rapidly approaching death. Colder and colder, she grew, as more of her lifeblood fell from his lips and drenched them both. For a moment, she nearly forgot the words of the spell entire, and she was tempted to simply allow herself to go - she’d told Astarion where the scroll was, after all, and perhaps a little death wouldn’t be so bad?

No! She’d come too far to fail at the last hurdle now. One more cast was all she needed. Astarion would have an entire person’s worth of blood within him, he’d be happy, and they could go out and…do the thing…whatever she’d said she was going to do with him. What had it been? What was she even doing there? Why was she feeling so cold…

But just as Vier’s mind began to slip past the threshold, Astarion suddenly disengaged with a deep and thoroughly satisfied moan and a great shudder of ecstasy, and the feeling of her blood seeping out into the open air jolted her back into awareness. Though her arms felt heavier than stones, she raised a hand and strained to get the words out as the world turned to mist around her. “Vincere est…shit…Vincere est vivere!”

As he came to himself, Astarion pulled Vier back into a much gentler embrace, his hand delicately petting her head as it slumped against his shoulder yet again. “Oh gods, did we go too far?” he asked, his voice filled with a surprisingly genuine concern. “You’re alright. Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be fine, once all my blood’s back,” she sighed against his now quite warm skin. “Just, you know…give me a minute.”

Vier couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Astarion sigh with relief. “Good, because I would feel just terrible if I was the only one feeling as good as I do right now.”

With a hint of a struggle, Vier pushed herself back up to look at him. Though he was still pale, his skin now held a healthy pink glow to it. His eyes had returned to their normal state, and he looked deeply, truly satiated in a way she’d never seen before.

“So, er…was it good for you?” she wearily joked, wiping the sweat from her still slightly clammy skin.

“Darling, aside from the bits where I was worried for your life, it was absolutely incredible,” Astarion replied, practically vibrating with excitement. “Look at me, I’m harder than adamantine and feel like I could fuck an orthon to death. You have utterly spoiled me tonight, my love.” “Oh, good, good. I think we’ll need to practice this whole process, because it was a bit touch-and-go for a while, but I’m glad the first attempt was a success. Say, erm…we can’t go out looking like this.”

For seemingly the first time, Astarion noted the fact they looked like they’d just gotten back from a visit with Bhaal - their clothes were absolutely soaked through, the couch was half-smeared, and a few splatters had even made it to the wall behind them.

“Oh…no, we certainly cannot,” he noted.

“So, I’ve got a bottle of Stagswift tucked away in my desk,” Vier continued. “What say we throw our clothes in the laundry, I polish off that bottle, and then you clean off all the blood you spilled on me, if you catch my meaning?”

“Darling, there is nothing I’d like more.”

#my writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion #named tav #drow tav #cleric tav #vier alurlssrin #vampire feeding

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short-black-diamond · 10 months

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I'm sorry could I ask for a tonny x reader where they basically just.act like an old married couple because tonny's a literal peepaw..

PEE-

PEEPAW

OH MY GOD

not you already calling him peepaw bro.

Anyways-

Not me having to look up what old married couples do☠

---

Tonny and you acting like an old married couple :]

Since the circus was running on a vehicle, you guys travelled a lot

like, a lot lot

so, you learned many new languages or the basics of them to communicate with the people

as you guys travelled pretty much around the globe, it was still fascinating to see what each new generation was able to create

from bicycles to motorbikes to real cars and also trams...

you bought some jewellr- ok no, Anthonn bought you some jewellry

Tonny purchased a camera

and let me tell you, he took more pictures of you than any other place

what can he say? You're the center of his universe

and that being said, Tonny likes to go with the flow, while you like to do it in the traditional way

you paint

and while he was busy photographing you, you were drawing him

(I think I spelled this wrong⤴)

it was also on those nice and warm summer places, where you guys were on a field, and just...enjoyed everything

away from the drawing, and forward to the culinaries!

with each country and new formed/founded city, you guys were always amazed by all the new food that you got to taste wherever you guys were

to the normal mortals, you guys looked like teenagers who were on a date

but well, since Tonny was a PEEPAW and you were a granny, you guys took your time enjoying things in blissfull slowlyness

whenever you guys would eat breakfast other than the circus, the 'adults' would scold you for coming late to school

you and Tonny had to stifle your laughter one too many times

with each new recipe which you and Tonny would try to replicate in the circus' kitchen, a new memory got made

you were actually surprised that you, nor Tonny or anybody else got Alzheimer's yet

it was truly amazing

you guys also like to go on walks????

why didn't I think of this sooner???

like, just hand in hand, relishing the moment of nature, or watching the real teens run around

poking at each other when you guys saw some fresh couples act shy around each other, reminding you of your earlier days

ah yes, wonderful memories

but you had pity with the children

you had all the time in the world while theirs ended by the drop of a needle

but, you did your best to give them as much advice as possible, even when you got weird looks from them

Tonny frowned sadly upon you consoling a heartbroken girl, a poor man, a child that lost its parents...

he also felt like it wasn't fair

I mean, you guys could live forever in fun and party and doing some acrobatic tricks-

no, he didn't want to think about it

(and i don't want to make this any more angsty)

back to the now, where you and Tonny look at some of the pictures you guys took!

and you were laughing again, something Anthonn cherished very much

"Remember when you fell from the well? Gosh, you were soaked with turf water!"

"...yea...", cue to him looking at you lovingly while you cracked up like a hyena-

and you guys give each other new types of flowers???

everywhere you guys go, and you see a flower shop, it turns into a competition of who can gist the other one a new species of flowers

it's still a draw, after all these decades/or centuries?

(what do old people do else besides that?)

---

Alrighty, let's stop here! I really have no idea what old couples do, cuz all i see them do is go to cafés and walk around?, nothing more.

Anyways, I hope you liked it!

Read you guys in my next post!

#marionetta webtoon #marionetta x reader #marionetta x you #marionetta #tonny x reader #tonny x you #anthonn x reader #“tonny's a literal peepaw...”#seriously how could you

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kisuminight · 20 days

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So what is c!Karl doing in this AU?

...Well, basically the same thing as in the canon 'verse.

So it's a bit more complicated then that. DreamXD is basically letting him do his time traveling thing, so he will write books about what he sees time traveling, so DreamXD can search for something that he lost a long time ago, using those books as a reference.

To further explain, we have to get into the basis of the Blade system's life cycle and a bit of ancient history!

So, at the beginning of the world, Blades hadn't really hit "population" yet. Population is roughly 1 Blade to 5 Players, even though not every Blade is in Resonance at any one time.

XC2 has Blades coming from Titans--but we don't have those here. YWKON does Blades growing on trees, which is very cool but there's a simpler solution. Blades spawn when a server is created.

Now, when the universe was young, you'd get maybe 5 - 10 Blades spawn per server. Now that the population has reached its optimum level, you will have a very small chance of 1 Blade being spawned per server creation.

And it's not like the core crystals are just showing up at spawn. If a Blade spawns with the server, the core crystal is somewhere completely random in the world. There is only one way to make sure that a Blade spawns with a server, and that is to offer the shards of a broken Blade when the server seed is being generated. It's a balance thing--offer a broken/dead Blade to guarantee the spawn of a new Blade. No matter how many shards you offer, it's always 1-1 for the spawn rate.

Now people don't go breaking core crystals for fun. A Blade that has been in circulation for a while has more Procedural Memory than a newly-spawned Blade. That means that they will automatically have more inbuilt skill with the powers that they have, even if the new Blade is going to be roughly the same power level.

This comes to the history lesson! A long time ago, there was a war involving the gods and their Aegis. This had 3 notable outcomes:

The Blood God straight up died. He is gone. The current "Blood God" is the original Blood God's Aegis Blade, who ripped their Driver's heart out of their corpse and used it to become the first Heartstealer.

If this hadn't been done they all would've died. The current Blood God has a fondness for Heartstealers because of it--see their relationship with c!Techno.

2. The Aegis of the Goddess of Death asked to have his memory erased in the aftermath. He wanted to see the world they worked so hard to save with his own eyes and explore it as a mortal. This is how we get the current c!Phil.

3. DreamXD's Aegis Blade sacrificed themselves to buy time. They used a literal spell called "Sacrifice," which heals everyone in the party to full heath and does massive damage to the entire enemy party. It also automatically kills the user. This isn't final for a Blade, which reverts to a core crystal, but one of the nearby enemies survived. And used the opening to shatter the core crystal and throw it away, to different servers. And DreamXD was left alone, with no Resonance.

Now, normally smashing a core crystal kills the Blade completely. And no matter how many shards you offer to how many servers, one Blade dead is one new Blade spawn. But Aegis Blades are special. Each of the pieces of the core crystal became a new Blade, with the same color of core crystal, same light element, same healer affinity, and same instinctive call to return to DreamXD's original server.

DreamXD wants his Aegis Blade back. His very first friend. Maybe then they can go back to the beginning, where everything was good and happy.

To get back to the point, DreamXD gave Karl his time traveling powers so he could use Karl's stories to track down the Blades made from the pieces of his Aegis when they were called back to the server.

Karl was chosen for this task partly because DreamXD picked up a bit of lingering energy on him, where he'd met and been around one or more of the Blades (c!Dream, Mamacita, Drista). Karl's adventures did lead to him locating Cornelius and claiming that Blade after Cornelius' apparent "death" in The Village that Went Mad.

The reason that Karl is having memory issues in this AU is that his brain just isn't built to process the time travel magic that he has. He is a non-Blade, who has been given access to Blade magic, without actually being in Resonance. Every time he time travels, the magic is using his memories to help build a frame of reference, and then the magic is putting them back incorrectly, because Karl's brain does not save memories the way a Blade's half-digital existence would.

As an example, Karl's mind is like a library. Every time the time travel powers activate, books are removed from the shelves. But without being a Blade or in Resonance with a Blade, the books are being put back wrong. Either they've been shelved wrong (emotions connecting to the wrong memories, thoughts triggering things that are unrelated) or they haven't been put back at all (there's empty spaces, in the bookshelves of Karl's mind). It's not that they're gone, it's just a mess. If he were a Blade, the memories would sort back automatically. If he were in Resonance with a Blade, then that would act as a "librarian" and slowly help get his mind back in order.

#DSMP Blade System AU #c!karl #DreamXD #Would DreamXD's plan to get his Aegis back work?#Yes #But the Blades that had their individual existences created by the shattering would all be erased forever #All the scattered Blades look like the Aegis they were born from #DreamXD looks like that because their form of grieving involves dressing like their dead Blade

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thecreaturecodex · 2 years

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Lesovik

“The Leshy” © Toly Kivshar, accessed at his ArtStation page here

[I quite like the leshys in Pathfinder; little humanoid plant spirits are a good way to add some whimsy and wonder to low level games. But they’re a terrible representation of the actual folkloric leshy. Even the Witcher games have a more accurate leshy, and that’s something I can basically never say about the Witcher franchise. Fortunately, since the leshy is found under many different names in different Slavic cultures, I could find an alternate name easily.]

Lesovik CR 16 CN Fey This creature is humanoid, but made as much from wood and fungus as it is flesh and blood. Its skin is like bark, and hair, moss and lichen all grow from it, granting it a shaggy pelage and facial hair. They have antlers made of forking branches, hooves for feet, and clawed hands.

A lesovik is a fey creature that considers itself the lord of the forest in which it dwells. They watch over the animals and plants in their domain, and may be helpful or harmful to humanoids, as the whim suits them. Lesoviks are skilled shapechangers, and often take humanoid form to interact with travelers and ferret out their intentions. Those who are polite and respectful of the forest may receive aid in the form of pointing out game trails or helpful advice, but those who are rude or destructive will be led on a wild goose chase and lost in the woods, sometimes to fatal effect.

A lesovik can change its size, so it can become as tall as a tree or small enough to hide behind a blade of grass. If challenged to combat, they usually take their largest form. Any branch or stick held by a lesovik becomes a magical club, which they supplement with their natural attacks. All lesoviks are powerful spellcasters, capable of drawing from druid spells—no two lesoviks are likely to have the exact same tactics.

Lesoviks get along with other fey creatures in their forests, as long as they show proper respect. They consider treants too deliberate and stodgy, but do not try to drive them out. Most lesoviks love gambling, and when the lesoviks from multiple forests come together peacefully, it is usually to gossip and play cards. They may wager the plants and animals in their domains in these games; rapid shifts in animal distributions may be due to a lesovik paying off a debt. Not all interactions between lesoviks are peaceful, and unseasonable storms, spontaneous forest fires and outbreaks of plant diseases may be signs of a battle between lesoviks.

Lesoviks do not grant boons and banes the way some other fey creatures do; they instead use druidic magic to benefit or harm mortals respectively. Some druids were taught by the lesoviks; they tend to have the Plant or Weather domain rather than an animal companion. Lesoviks treat leshys with grandfatherly affection.

Lesovik CR 16 XP 76,800 CN Medium fey (shapechanger) Init +8; Senses darkvision 60 ft., greensight, low-light vision, Perception +33 Defense AC 30, touch 14, flat-footed 26 (+4 Dex, +16 natural) hp 264 (23d6+184) Fort +15, Ref +19, Will +21; +4 vs. mind influencing effects, paralysis, poison, polymorph, sleep, stunning DR 15/cold iron and slashing Defensive Abilities verdant body Offense Speed 40 ft. Melee shillelagh +20/+15/+10 (2d6+8/19-20 plus fear), claw +16 (1d4+3), gore +16 (1d8+3) or 2 claws +18 (1d4+7), gore +18 (1d8+7) Special Attacks cudgel of authority Spells CL 15th, concentration +23 (+27 casting defensively) 8th—quickened cure serious wounds (DC 21), finger of death (DC 26) 7th—control weather, heal (DC 25), transmute metal to wood (DC 25) 6th— quickened bull’s strength, greater dispel magic, move earth, transport via plants 5th—baleful polymorph (DC 23), blessing of the salamander, death ward, quickened entangle (DC 19), wall of thorns 4th—command plants (DC 22), freedom of movement, river of wind (DC 22), strong jaw, thorn body 3rd—greater magic fang, nature’s exile (DC 21), neutralize poison (DC 21), protection from energy, speak with plants, spike growth (DC 21) 2nd—barkskin, cat’s grace, fog cloud, resist energy, stone call, tree shape 1st—faerie fire, feather step, longstrider, produce flame, speak with animals (x2) 0th—detect magic, light, resistance, stabilize Statistics Str 24, Dex 19, Con 26, Int 15, Wis 26, Cha 17 Base Atk +11; CMB +18; CMD 44 Feats Alertness, Combat Casting, Deceitful, Defensive Combat Training, Improved Critical (club), Improved Initiative, Improved Vital Strike, Lightning Reflexes, Multiattack, Quicken Spell, Vital Strike, Weapon Focus (club) Skills Bluff +28, Climb +28, Disguise +28, Intimidate +24, Knowledge (geography, nature) +23, Linguistics +6, Perception +33, Sense Motive +33, Stealth +25 (+33 in forest environments), Survival +29 (+37 in forest environments); Racial Modifiers +8 Stealth in forest environments, +8 Survival in forest environments Languages Common, Druidic, Sylvan, 4 others SQ change shape (humanoid, animal or plant, greater polymorph), change size, improved woodland stride, nature empathy (+26), sound mimicry (voices, animal sounds), wild casting Ecology Environment cold or temperate forests Organization solitary or party (2-5) Treasure standard Special Abilities Change Size (Su) As a standard action, a lesovik can grow to Gargantuan size, or shrink to Diminutive size. It may remain as its new size as long as it likes, and return to its normal size as a standard action. The statistics for a lesovik at its different sizes are as follows Diminutive Lesovik: Init +11; AC 30 (+4 size, +7 Dex, +9 natural); Ref +22; Speed 20 ft.; Melee shillelagh +19/+14/+9 (1d4+3/19-20 plus fear), claw +15 (1+1), gore +15 (1d3+2) or 2 claws +17 (1+2), gore +17 (1d3+2); Space 1 ft.; Reach 0 ft.; Str 14, Dex 25; Skills Climb +23, Stealth +40 (+48 in forest environments) Gargantuan Lesovik: Init +6; AC 33, touch 8, flat-footed 31 (-4 size, +2 Dex, +25 natural); Ref +17; Speed 60 ft.; Melee shillelagh +22/+17/+12 (6d6+14/19-20 plus fear), claw +18 (2d6+6), gore +18 (4d6+6) or 2 claws +20 (2d6+13), gore +20 (4d6+13); Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft.; Str 36, Dex 15; Skills Climb +34, Stealth +11 (+19 in forest environments) Cudgel of Authority (Su) Any club held by a lesovik gains the benefits of a shillelagh spell. In addition, when a lesovik successfully makes a critical hit with its club, the creature struck must succeed a DC 24 Will save or cower in fear for 1d4 rounds. This is a mind-influencing fear effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Improved Woodland Stride (Su) A lesovik ignores all difficult terrain created by magical or mundane plant life. Nature Empathy (Ex) This functions as the wild empathy class ability of a druid, except that the lesovik can use this to influence the behavior of animals and plant creatures with an Intelligence of 2 or lower without penalty, but cannot influence the behavior of magical beasts. It can even use this ability on mindless plant creatures. Spells A lesovik can cast spells as a 15th level druid. It does not gain other benefits of the druid class, such as a domain or animal companion, unless it takes levels in druid. Verdant Body (Ex) A lesovik gains a +4 racial bonus on all saving throws against mind influencing effects, paralysis, poison, polymorph, sleep and stunning effects. Wild Casting (Ex) A lesovik can cast druid spells no matter what shape it is in. It treats its body as a holy symbol for the purposes of casting spells.

#lesovik #leshy #slavic folklore #russian folklore #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder rpg #the witcher #fey #world tour #if i ran the zoo

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rabbitheadcanonspuyo · 9 months

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In honor of ten posts, some Amitie headcanons

Amitie's heritage originated from some far-off village/town from Primp which still exists to this day, but was established well before the land of Primp was. Hint: It's not Arca. That fell into ruin.

Amitie's first ancestor came to be when the Goddess of the Sun decided to reincarnate into a mortal human almost 100,000 years after her "death".

The Goddess only reincarnates once in a lifetime (aka, when her current reincarnate dies and a new potential reincarnation is about to be born).

One of Amitie's ancestors and her family moved to Primp as some of the immigrants who lost their homes during the battle between Primp and Ta-Toon-Da Castle. Amitie's bloodline has lived there ever since.

The Goddess of the Sun had become forgotten about by Amitie's family by the time Amitie was born, which is probably why her parents ended up basing her name on the French word for "friendship".

Amitie started out using basic elemental spells, but eventually settled on using mostly wind and light-based spells for the most part. Just felt comfortable with that.

As to how she learned Bayoen, a spell originating from Arle's world, she managed to get her hands on a plaque that had text on how to use the spell when she was younger.

Amitie had normal parents. They're a bit concerned about her grades, but overall were very much caring towards her.

She met Raffina a few weeks before school began for them, although she didn't get to introduce herself properly until the first day of school. She spent her first ever semester trying to become friends with Raffina (I imagine Primp's magic school teaches K-12). At the time, it was only Amitie, Raffina and Lidelle, since Klug still lived in the same birth town as Lemres (they canonically apparently grew up in the same neighborhood together) and Tartar and Sig also were living in their respective original hometowns at the time.

She tried to befriend those three when they transferred to Primp Magic School. Tartar got along with her easily, Sig took a bit to become her friend, and Klug...took a while.

Amitie has pretty much worn her hat for so long that she forgot it was a family heirloom. No one has reminded her about that yet.

Wanting to become a wonderful magician was pretty much entirely her doing, not influenced by the Goddess of the Sun. Her mother is a pretty good mage herself (not up there with Raffina's parents or Lemres, but still pretty good), and seeing her cast spells has caused her to want to become a magician.

How I see Amitie's relationship with Sig: Amitie and Sig are close friends, but she does have feelings towards him that she never got to share. Sig isn't really pursuing romantic relationships at the moment, being more focused on trying to get his hand back to normal.

Canonically speaking, Amitie is curious about things that don't exist in Peimp but do in Ringo's world (such as an amusement park) since she had been in Primp Town her entire life. Because of this (back to headcanon), most things foreign to Primp can catch her attention.

No one who lives in Primp (not even herself) knows about the origins of Amitie's family line.

And of course, the ten post thing.

#10 posts #tumblr milestone #amitie #puyo puyo #puyo pop #headcanons #headcanon

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writtengalaxies · 2 years

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A Confession At Knife-point

Cup God Chronicles :: Part 4

Characters: God of Night, GN!Reader

Word Count: 730

Spicy Rating: Our dear reader has a foul mouth, so expect a lot of f-bombs y'all!

You stare across the table at him.

The God of Night has his hands folded in front of him, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but on the glow-in-the-dark plastic cup you're sipping juice from, the book open to that last ritual, and your face. Finally, you sigh, putting the cup down, folding your hands in front of your face. Sure, you feel a bit like an anime villain, but...the man made you a promise.

"I didn't die. So start talking. What's so ooky-spooky about this ritual that makes you so skittish?"

"How much do you understand of what's written here?"

You shrug, pointing out the sections. "This basically reads like it's a spell for a messy break up, but I can't read most of the page."

He sighs, honest to gods (ha) sighs, like a melodramatic teenager. "It's...more complicated than that."

"Explain it to me, then."

"I...I would rather not-"

"You made a deal, dude. What's in the damn book."

"...I don't have many followers. You're...you're honestly my only one any more, even by technicality. I exist because I am Night, and--"

"I don't care about your tragic backstory right now. Why's this spell freaking you out so bad. Just means I get my privacy back, right?

"It..." He sighs again, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. "It...it isn't just severing the connection between us. It...it takes from you."

"Like, what? I'll get dizzy, or--"

"Emotionally. It cuts out part of your emotional range as payment. It's not meant to make it...easy. You lose part of yourself. Based on what I've seen in the past, your particular witticisms, your sarcasm, your....you-ness...You might be a strange, weird little mortal, but you're my strange, weird little mortal--" He takes a breath, his hand covering the part of his face you can see, like he's embarrassed about saying that. "If you truly want me gone, I'll...I'll find a different way to sever our connection, I swear. I promise. But just...I..." He swallows, a motion you're not really certain he needs to do, before he speaks again. "I...I'm fond of you, in a way I haven't been in a very long time...and...I would be...put out if you lost your...spark, starlight."

You blink. He's never called you anything but 'mortal' before. Not your name, and certainly not what could best be described as a pet name.

You sigh, shoving to your feet to go process things, get a slice of cake. You bought it as a treat to yourself, and by fucking god, did you need it now. The last thought, that last word really lingered, however, and you turned, brandishing the knife as you started talking.

"Wait a fucking second. Why did you call me starlight? What kind of--Are you blushing?" The god shifted to turn away from you, leaving you to follow him around the table, trying to catch his attention. "You are! Why are you--oh my fuck. Do you have a crush on me?" He continued to look away, leaving you laughing almost hysterically as you headed back to the cake, gesturing as you spoke. "This is how I find out. Fucking figures! First time someone does in forever, and it's a god with a problem with personal space--"

"Please, starlight, can we talk about this--will you please put the knife down before I actually tell you--" He squawked, staring at you, then over his shoulder, where the the object you just threw rolled to a stop. "Did you just throw a cup at my head?!"

"I dunno, did you just decide to call me sweet things like we're already lovers?"

"...Fair point, but...perhaps...perhaps I am fond of you in that way as well. I just...you're interesting in many ways, and everything I learn about you I carry with me through each night..."

You stare at him for a long time, then sigh. "Do it properly."

"...Sorry, what?"

"If you're going to try to flirt with me, do it properly. Woo me, motherfucker. Flowers. Dates...I don't know if gods do dates, but I'm not just gonna say 'oh boy! Time for deific dalliances!', you gotta work for this."

"...You're...not opposed. To..."

"We'll see. I'm not a cheap date."

You give him a smirk, not unlike the ones he's used to giving you.

It's worth it to see the small, truly happy smile come to life on his face.

#nighttime bastardass #the god of night #night x reader #my writing #cup god chronicles #gn!reader #council of the gods

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madam-monarch · 10 months

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What horrifting ways does the Lamb sona "Lomando" do to the poor mortals animals.

P.S. I like to see more creepy stuff from the Lamb sona.

[ Yippee someone asked about mah Lamb sona Lomando!!! ]

[ But yea they do have sertain way's to fight and kill! ]

[ Also heads up englisch aint my main language so this will probably have weird writing and spelling mistakes! also this is pretty long i kinda went full in! XD ]

[ Also just a quick content warning for talking about murder [obviously] and also a bit of mind terror, i mean Lomando is a scary motherfucker so its a bit obviouse but just in case! :) ]

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[ Their basic fighting style is rlly just whit their bare hand's, yes they can summon weapons from their crown, but mostly choose not to, they are just physicaly strong and like a bit of a challenge! ]

[ Tho one thing they can do is body mutation, that one's quite hard to use when there's mutiple enemies at once, but if its just one or two, they do like to use it! ]

[ Say'd mutations ussualy are either tentacles from their body, or unusual growth of limb's, it take's a bit for them to grow, which make's them a bit defensless in the moment, hence why its only smart to use it whit as few enemie's as possible! ]

[ Also doodle from last night to kinda show an example what it would look like ]

[ also when they do murder someone, its rarely quick, they do like to take their time on their enemie's, tho they try not to do ''uesless'' kill's, i mean, they do want follower's and a ''good'' reputation, would be bad to just go massacre everyone, tho they sometime's feel like it whit all their pumped up anger thats hiding behind their smile! ]

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[ Now one thing i wanna get into is the fact while they definetly kill, they prefer scae tactic's alot more, they love to scare their enemie's more than to kill them [They still love murder tho lol] and will sometime's even leave enemie's alone if they fuck off because they are to scared. ]

[ That doesn't mean that its over tho, they will definetly terrorize their enemie's not just in real life, but just go straight to their dream's and give them nightmare's, which yes, makes his enemie's suffer much more, no sleep, no energie, passing out, cannot function anymore. ]

[ Now its importand to know that Lomando has Illusion magic given by the crown, they dont look super scary to everyone! ]

Who see's them ''normal'': Followers, anyone who doesnt precieve them as evil [Most NPC'S]

Who see's the real face: Dissenters, The Bishop's, Follower's of the Bishop's, The One Who Waits, anyone who precieves them as evil, Mirror's [I'll get into that]

!!! EXAMPLE !!!

[ Rlly quick lore, Mirrors are not allowed in the cult at all times, justs o the followers wont find out about his real face ]

[ Ok but why is this importand? Well thanks to their illusion magic, they can not just look more appealing, but combined whit their mind powers [which they use to get into enemies dreams like stated above] can look into his enemies head and put up an illusion of a loved or lost one]

[ Example: Enemie corner's them, out of safety they look into the enemie's mind, find thoughts about an old dead lover, BAM! Perfect food for mindfuckery, take the form [or illusion] of say'd lover ]

[ There is a downpart tho, Nr 1, the eye's don't change, which some enemie's are smart enough to tell in an emotional moment. Nr 2 Lomando doesn't learn anything about say'd person they take the shape of, they could figure it out, but that takes a LONG time, meaning they kinda have to freeball the whole act, which sometimes goes bad and the enemie can tell that its not rlly their close one. But if it goes well, they can strike a pretty nasty attack on the enemie! ]

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[ In a whole, yes they kill, and that pretty brutaly whit bare hand's, but they do prefer more to get into peoples head's, and dream's, or let's rather call them nightmare's! ]

[ Anyway info dumping done! Ty for the question, was rlly fun to talk about my bby!^^ ]

#my art #art #my ocs #oc #lamb sona #madam talks #cotl #cult of the lamb #cw murder #cw Mindfuck

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cynicalmusings · 2 years

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Oh? Feel free to share the ideas you have on Cyno lore! I'd love to hear it. :D

You are quite welcome! :>

-🍣

OK OK so. basically.

the ideas i have so far are quite vague, but roughly go like this:

i’m slightly tempted to make it a sort of reincarnation au: so like, some time ago (probably, like, a few centuries, if not much longer), cyno was some mage who lived in a forest with his partner (sort-of you), and then one day some accident or attack happened which resulted in your death. distraught, cyno went to beg the gods to give you back, but they refused: your time had come, and that was that.

unable to accept this, he started delving into the dark arts, looking over old rituals and forbidden spells hidden from the gods’ gaze. basically, he was trying to drag your spirit back from the veil. the more he practiced these arts, the more powerful he became, until he caught the gods’ attention again. they warned him to stop— he was meddling with affairs that no mortal should have access to and playing with the power of a god for selfish reasons— but he refused, claiming that he would find a way to bring you back or die trying.

his practices started taking an effect on him, though: he grew addicted to this magic, and more and more intent on bringing you back until he didn’t care about the consequences and harm he let loose on the earth and people around him. he pulled stars down from the sky, harnessed the power of evil spirits— taking more than he gave, and taking things a human never should.

saying that enough was enough, the gods stripped him of his powers, leaving his abilities a mere fraction of what they once were, and banished him to a starless realm to serve as his eternal prison. they bound him to the area with a silver chime to be worn around his ankle— a shackle that prevented him from leaving, containing the dying songs of the stars he so mercilessly brought down. to tackle the dark corners of the woods, they also gave him an empty lantern. the catch was that he could only ever fill this lantern with the soul of star, which was a rare find to come by in the forest of his imprisonment.

they took his heart away, too: by that point a black, wretched thing, bent on and twisted by its singular desire to bring you back to his side. his one goal ripped from him, he lost his passion, doomed to walk an aimless path through a never ending loneliness. for a man with no heart could not love, and therefore could not be loved in turn.

and as a final punishment— almost a taunt— they told him that all his effort would not go to vain. you would return one day, but you would not remember him, and he would have to watch as you lived a happy life without him while he himself was still bound to the woods: a place where no wise soul would enter.

however, the gods had not expected you to stumble in yourself that one fateful day. and because the starless lands were a place that not even the gods could interfere with, they had no way of stopping you.

and when he saw you, there was nothing they could do to stop him from falling in love with you all over again; and you with him.

…yeah, you know when i said i only had a vague idea? i might have lied.

#thing is… despite losing most of his powers he’s still unmatched in the strength of his magic #he just wishes that you could see him at the height of his power because he wants to show off to you #not that he can’t show off to you in this state because he is very powerful #but in his eyes that’s not enough #because he thinks you deserve nothing less than the best #and in his current state— cursed and weakened and shameful— ‘the best’ is not something he can provide you with #r’s writing #sent: 🍣 anon #r answers

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floating--goblin · 5 months

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drops questions 2, 16, and 23 on your Dragonborn :3c

yooo thanks!! Can finally talk more about my boy Eld

2. If they were to join a pantheon (gods or daedric princes) what would they represent? Would they replace a current figure?

So I feel like he'd be a daedric prince, because he got so tangled with all of them throughout life and just kind of... finds them more tangible/trustworthy. The Divine may be out there but they don't show up to get you blackout drunk on a friday night, y'know

He'd represent community, the sacred duty to protect one another; and he'd be the patron of the lost. You know, runaways, wanderers, beggars, orphans, thieves... that kinda thing. If Nocturnal gives thieves luck, Eld would be giving them sound judgement; and honorable thieves who don't target already impoverished people and who share their spoils with the needy would be blessed and considered Eld's champions. Same with people who built/donated to/worked in shelters, because those would basically be his shrines.

I feel like he'd also pop into the mortal realm a lot, just to kind of... wander. Under a disguise, he'd go aimlessly around Tamriel, observe people and do odd jobs. Cause what the hell else is he supposed to do with immortality, really?

16. If they were a dragon, would they have a hoard?

Yes, but it'd probably not be made up on any valuable items lmao. He'd have like, piles of books, letters, pamphlets and recipe slips, pretty stones, dulled and rusted weapons and armor, pieces of Dwemer machinery, that sort of thing. The most pricey items in his hoard would probably be pelts or pieces of soft fabric, cause the guy needs a good bed.

23. If they could create a new spell, what would they create?

Eld doesn't use much magic in combat, but he's fascinated with it as a concept-- so it'd probably be a non-offensive spell, maybe some way to communicate across large distances. He's away from home 99% of the time and misses his daughter, he'd probably give his left leg to be able to talk to her anytime :')

That or something to let him defy gravity even further, because try as he might he can't quite conquer vertical walls and lord knows he's not gonna take the road. It's climb over the mountain or die.

#he's a goat in a workaholic's body #which makes it even funnier that he's sanguine's current babygirl

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nycorix · 2 years

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Lucienne & The Throne Room

Posting another excerpt from the sandman fic I am working on! It's going to be long and Involved lmao but this scene is pretty close to the beginning - basically, the weather in the Dreaming is fucked and Lucienne has taken it upon herself to investigate why. (Lucienne, the real MVP at all times)

More of this nonsense can be found in this post ! *~*~*

It only takes her three tries to find the throne room. She allows herself a moment of satisfaction, then lets herself in, bracing almost unconsciously.

She has no idea what to expect—the Dream Lord experiences as wide a range of emotions and troubles and snits as the mortals whose unconsciousness he curates, though he is loath to admit it. And while she is a firm believer in the concept of expressing one’s emotions in a healthy way, and Dream has made leaps and bounds of progress in the time she has known him, she also knows his instinct is still to suppress the above with a vigilance bordering upon desperation.

The trouble with this is it invariably leaks out through the cracks of his consciousness despite his best efforts, which directly affects the very fabric and nature of the Dreaming itself—which is, of course, the environment that she and Nuala and the rest of his subjects all reside in. Whatever this fog is, she is certain that it must be dealt with as early as possible.

The throne room is bitterly cold.

She can see her breath in clouds before her as she strides across the cavernous space. The chill from the fog itself has not yet left her bones, but this is worse; and she shivers, slipping her hands into the pockets of her coat almost unconsciously.

She can see him, seated at the base of the throne stairs, cloak pooled around him like a shadow. His breath is cloudless.

Apart from the clime of the room, Lucienne can see nothing amiss—he is wraithlike and ephemeral in presence, alabaster-pale, bent gracefully over his work in either brooding or concentration, the fall of his dark hair hiding the deep furrow of his brow—but all of this, of course, is normal.

In his lap is a ledger, ornate and leather bound; he holds a feather quill, pinched between finger and thumb as if it may break or disappear, etching across the empty pages perfect lines of his loopy scrawl.

So: official business, then. The dream journals of the mortals and others under his care dutifully write themselves in his absence, but very occasionally a spell will come upon him, a trance almost, nearly fitlike, and he will spend hours upon hours transcribing entries himself, usually for a specific Dreamer that has for some reason arrested his attention.

Lucienne clears her throat to announce her presence, stepping forward.

I did not call for a librarian, he says before she’s even halved the distance.

Lucienne, to her credit, does not break pace, though even after untold centuries of devoted service she will never fully be prepared for the weight his words command, the way they seduce and rebuff in equal measures. His voice is the rust on an old blade, the first breath of a storm, sharp ivory sheathed in the darkest velvet—but it is distant, here, his consciousness lost in the pages of some special Dreamer’s dreams, a monotone echo of habit rather than any true expression of disapproval.

“I know, my Lord,” she answers—drawing near enough to speak quietly, keeping enough distance to remain unable to read the journal. “But perhaps you may yet have use of my assistance?”

And she waits.

He makes a sound that is neither acquiescence, acknowledgement, or dissent, yet manages to somehow be all three at once. The ledger shifts in his lap, and he catches the edge with a thumb. He frowns, pen stilling. Turns a page. The shadows on his face deepen, and his shoulders slowly drop.

He looks up.

Is something the matter? He stares at her with the wide-open concern of someone just woken from sleep, stars glinting in the facets of his eyes.

She tilts her head in deference as her gaze sweeps up and down the whole of him. While nothing seems pressingly wrong, she knows better than to trust his appearance alone. “I was hoping to ask that question of you, sir,” she replies, with all the gentle respect she can muster.

He blinks. Of me. Why would you think to…

There’s a distinct confusion buried beneath his careful mask, mixed with a worry so tinged with the promise of panic that she relents and spares him the spiral of thought. He is, after all, still getting his bearings. Would be, she thinks, for some time yet—for it’s not just the present Dream work that’s preoccupying him.

“The weather, my Lord,” she explains, swallowing the start of a smile as a part of him visibly relaxes. “We were….” she pauses, delicately. “Unsure.”

Morpheus rises as she speaks, eyes falling shut as he turns his attention to the Dreaming. Between moments, in a motion so fluid it is almost indiscernible, the book and pen are folded into the lining of his cloak. Something in his expression resolves, and he exhales, long and soft, thin smoke guttering from his lips. When he opens his eyes, they are blue again. And when he opens his eyes the room warms, as if touched by the first rays of a sunrise.

Unsure, he repeats, a dry twist of amusement bringing an almost human quality to him. And of what do you require certainty, then - my condition, or my intent?

“Both, sir.” She gives honesty without hesitation; and this time, she does allow herself a smile in reflection of his own.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #fanfiction #lucienne the librarian #GODS he is FUN to write y'all. like I am essentially trying to paint a picture with words here #he's also a pathetic emo wet rat man and I cannot wait to make that even more apparent #my apologies lucienne #also: bonus points to anyone who can guess the Dreamer he's writing about here. lmao #kasey writes

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dailycharacteroption · 1 year

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Drowned Channeler (Spiritualist Archetype)

(art by Thomas Griffith on Artstation)

Sea shanties and stories of the sea often speak of ghosts, of wayward souls lost at sea to drowning, to piracy, and to the fierce creatures that dwell within it.

Such tragedies would only naturally lead to undeath in a fantasy setting, and where there is undeath, there are spiritualists who provide solace from that terrible fate, accepting such spirits into their hearts and minds.

Whether they happened upon them by chance while their soul was still wandering, or they used mystic rituals to rescue a ghost from the watery trap they had been doomed to, some spiritualists bind with spirits lost at sea, and gain unique power over water as a result.

Regardless of their disposition, these spiritualists carry with them the terrible fear of drowning, of perishing in cold darkness, which they may leverage just as easily as their watery powers, not to mention how their phantom companion is also changed by their fate.

Dripping with phantom water and leaving patches of moisture on everything they touch, the phantoms of these mystics have a strong bond to the water, whether they like it or not. Such phantoms can move swiftly in water, fight as an aquatic creature, and venture further from their living partner in the water. However, they are forced to stay closer while on land, and the benefits of the phantom being inside their head don’t manifest unless water is nearby, though they can grant their gift for swimming to them.

These channelers can also choose to learn a variety of watery spells, ranging from transforming the body into a watery form, moving easily through the water, channeling life or unlife into the water, surviving in water and extreme pressure, and even using water as an attack.

In addition to these spells, they also learn how to spontaneously manifest similar magic, starting with a basic jet of pushing water, and improving to creating mobility-enhancing currents, enhanced mobility underwater, and even transforming themselves to a fluid form.

If you’re interested in playing a spiritualist in an aquatic or nautical campaign, this archetype might be right for you, the duo of channeler and aquatic phantom being very powerful in the water. However, if your campaign spends most of the time miles from the sea, perhaps this archetype is best left ignored. If you do choose to take it, consider building with underwater utility and combat in mind, as well as what phantom emotion to take. Desperation is thematically appropriate, but people can feel a lot of different things while death comes to them at sea.

This archetype paints a certain picture of a mystic guiding a drowned phantom away from their final resting place and back towards shore, though the water pulls them back, as evidenced by their strength when in or nearby water. A spiritualist with intentions to set their phantom free in the great beyond may have to work hard to find their family on the shore or anything else that may guide them away from the water and towards final judgement.

However, consider also if the channeler is a member of an aquatic race. How estranged may they feel with a phantom that died in a way they cannot relate with? Do they pity them? Seek to use them?

Legend has it that occasionally the dwarven maritime god visits the material plane on his ironclad vessel, a mighty craft that is crewed by chalkost sailors and other divine servants. Among them, surprisingly, are mortal crew as well. In addition to their normal duties, these crew are selected for their psychic potential, as vessels for any wayward souls or seabound spirits that the vessel encounters, something it does with uncanny frequency.

They say that there exists a ritual called the Rite of the Rescuing Hand, one meant to be performed at sea. The caster paints a myriad of sigils on their hand to turn it into a binding circle of sorts. When done correctly, the caster may offer a hand to a reaching spirit, and bind them to them. While it could be in theory used for nefarious ends, it’s intended purpose is to end the threat of spectral undead that try to grab and drag the living into the water, pulling them up out of the water and binding them as phantoms to the caster.

Rumors persist of a strange sight, that of a halfling man carrying an oar over his shoulder. If found an asked about it, he relates a strange tale. He claims that he bound to a spirit that drowned at sea, and that he must find some place so far from the ocean that they do not recognize the oar for its purpose. Only then will the phantom be set free.

#pathfinder #archetype #spiritualist #drowned channeler #dwarf #chalkost #halfling #Aquatic Adventures

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