#curse of the were-pyre

[hatsampixie]

I haven’t drawn this boi in a while, here’s a spooky Were-Pyre for y’all!

#black spy #spy vs spy #curse of the were-pyre #fangs #werepyre #hybrid #werewolf #vampire #vampwolf #red eyes #my art

[tojisun]

dunno where this came from bc i honestly just wanted a short ramble and not smthn long but here we are :'D this is an extension from my rambling yesterday about simon x reader but it's a dowry of blood au (brides of dracula retelling). i havent finished the book yet tbh but if ur planning on reading it, i do just wanna give a warning that it's dark and prose-heavy

cw: death/massacre; blood drinking; vampire-turning and stuff; inaccurate references to dracula lore

the village is gone. burnt. fire crackles amidst the broken hymns of the dead—they don't sing, not anymore of course, but their losses are catastrophic. you never realized how the apocalypse could be so loud.

you stand at the centre of the chaos, bloodied. bruised. ruined. the lone survivor.

the only one who was lucky enough to be saved.

brought out from the pyre, you were dragged into the shadowed corners and hidden from the pillagers who slaughtered everyone you loved and everyone you knew. you shook in your grief, screams erupting from the base of your throat, but all were silenced by an ice-cold palm over your mouth.

"shh, little one," he said. the first of his words; the first of his kindness. "you must be quiet."

your fury sputtered into anguish, the loss descending to you like the first drop of snow. tears spring from your strained eyes, staining even his hand; you did not know how to compress the bloating agony that was pressing into your lungs. your only comfort was that he seemed to favour you enough to keep you safe, even if just for a moment. 

rain had fallen by then—it seemed like it knew that tragedy had struck this little place. it extinguished enough of the fire, washing away the smell of ashes and leaving only the pungence of iron. blood.

with it, your adrenaline wore off, and you began to feel the extent of your pain. of course, you were not unscathed, but you didn’t expect your body to be so brittle. 

you fell, tumbling into the muddy ground and right before his feet. you croaked in pain, lungs constricting. it was becoming a lot more difficult to breathe, to speak. you wondered why death came to you slowly.

he knelt down by your side, cold hand brushing away at your dirty hair. he was speaking to you softly, words passing through his lips in soft lilts. you struggled to hear him, your ears ringing, numb, as your mind pulsed in your skull.

you groaned, begging him to stop. to go away. you had nothing to pay him back with, nothing to entertain him, so you told him just as much. you told him to let you die in silence because how else could he save you?

“that is troubling,” was all he said, his words were rumbled from the depths of his chest like he hadn't used his voice in eons. 

you peeled your eyes open, wondering what it must be that he was after, then you finally saw what he was—pale skin gleaming underneath the moonlight with eyes dark like wine. he was not a human. he couldn’t have been one.

your mother told you tales of the wicked. of those cursed and abandoned by the almighty father—she told you of their beauty, of their wealth, of their hunger.

(they do not know how to love, she said as she tucked you underneath your sheets. they only know how to deceive.)

your body locked, heart congested with fear—your body knew then, didn’t it? that this being that held you close was far more terrifying than the invaders. that your body survived the fire, the greed of humanity, only to be devoured by the devil.

“please,” you whimpered, the will to live burning inside you once again. you didn’t care about the pillagers, you didn’t want their mercy, but this being. this creature of the dark, oh how you craved his clemency.

“please, save me.”

“i cannot save you,” he said. 

his hand fell to your throat, grasping it gently, almost reverently. he swiped his thumb along the expanse of your skin to feel the way you swallowed. 

“but i can help.”

you tried to reply, to beg once more, but the words could not be sounded out, your throat having been too ruined for any prayer. you shook with your desperation, turning your eyes to him to express your ragged hope. you prayed that he may see your plea. you prayed that he may bless you with his curse.

he smiled, fangs glinting before your eyes. then, he murmured, “of course.”

(mama? how do you know when your prayers are answered?

well, sometimes it starts off painful.

painful?

yes, little star. but then, it becomes euphoric. freeing. good suffering.)

his teeth tore into your skin, ripping apart the muscles as it hunted for the blood. you screamed, throat scratching at the intensity of your pain; it was unbearable, burning unlike that of fire, scalding as it slithered down your very being. something was happening then. something unholy. 

you were being remade. reshaped. taken apart one bloodied fragment at a time.

you felt like you were at the precipice of death, so close to the edge and into eternal damnation, but he would not let you. chained to his hunger, your body writhed underneath the extent of his power; burning. burning. burning.

he was your new pyre. 

he was hell.

you begged for anything to subdue the pain; for a touch kinder, warmer; for the ceasing of it all. 

and it did.

his lips left the sensitive patch of your neck, pulling away with a hummed smile as though it were ambrosia he was sucking out of you. you stared at his lips, stained with your blood, and, within a fraction of a heartbeat, unrelenting hunger coursed through you.

you yowled, your mind heavy and your body sore. you felt lost; you felt like you were drained and left as nothing but a shell of what you once were.

“good. that’s good,” he crooned, his eyes wrinkled in his joy. “this hunger is proof of your new life.”

he brought his wrist to his lips and bit into his own skin. the first puncture oozed out with blood; you watched it pool, beading, before it trickled down the length of his arm. your throat constricted, tongue heavy all of a sudden in your mouth.

a taste. you craved for a taste.

he smiled as he pressed his wrist to your lips. “go on,” he murmured. “drink.”

you were delirious, or you must be, for you to have listened to him—your weak hands grasped at his wounded arm, pulling it closer to your maw.

you drank. 

that experience of having the first drop on your tongue was indescribable. it was like you have never eaten before; like you have never been fed. never been nourished.

it was like anything that sustained you before had been erased from your memories; you don’t remember the taste of your mother’s cooking anymore, nor the sweets that your grandmother brought home with her for you on occasions when her mistress remembered to reward her, nor the milk from your father’s cows. 

every sweet memory was washed away by the blood pouring down your throat; every gulp a sinister promise of what would be irreversible.

your body sang, skin mending itself, and bones healing underneath torn muscles. numbness filtered in—it had never felt like salvation before.

lost in your new paradise, you didn't notice as your saviour cupped your cheek once more. his touch was gentle. it was kind.

he leant forward and kissed your forehead—a reward for surviving.

“my name’s simon,” he whispered, nuzzling you. “and you will be my bride, won’t you, my dark miracle?”

your mouth left his arm, reluctant but necessary, because even before he said his name, you knew he was your master. you knew that in exchange for this new life he’s cursed you with, you were to be obedient to him no matter what. 

you nodded, breathless and ragged.

“yes, my lord.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cw blood #suns #so uhhh whatchall think

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I hate that Merlin got no good mentor figure in the show.

Like Gaius was fine, ish, because Merlin liked him and he did very genuinely try to keep Merlin safe. But he was also traumatised as fuck and literally agreed with a genocidal maniac who decided killing everyone was better than actually grieving his dead wife.

And Kilgharrah was a spiteful basement lizard and an absolute bastard. He did nothing other than be a convenient plot device who gave Merlin more trauma than he knew what to do with.

And it wasn’t like he had many other options either, like

Alator of the Catha, dead.

Balinor, dead

Hunnith, amazing but no idea about magic.

Uther, read it in a fic one time. I’ve had trips that were less trippy.

Gaius, traumatised to the pyre and back. A few times.

So I can’t really blame him, same as Morgana he just latched onto the first person (or nightmare cave beast basement lizard in his case) who told him he wasn’t cursed or a monster.

But the show would’ve been better if he actually had someone to turn to consistently instead of an immortal who wants to die, a cryptic shut in, a druid he sees twice a year or whoever else showed up for less than 15 minutes of screen time.

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #ramblings #i don’t know how to tag this #i’m too tired for this #there’s a merlin apologist point to this somewhere #uther pendragon #fuck uther #gaius merlin #hunith #does her name not have two n’s? I could’ve sworn it was Hunnith #balinor #Alator of the catha #druids #kilgharrah hate club #kilgharrah

[larluce]

Have you ever thought of the episode A Servant of Two Masters with a scene like Ella Enchanted when she breaks her curse? If you don't know the scene or the movie, that's okay because I have ✨a vision✨

Like that:

Merlin inside is dying because he's trying to kill Arthur and that's his worst nightmare, but Arthur decided that needs to be open and honest to Merlin and just tries to confess. I don't know how they got there, but just imagine that Arthur is talking sweetly to Merlin, holding his face with love and going to kiss him, but Merlin is crying because he's with a knife in his hand and trying to stab Arthur in the back. He breaks the curse, but Arthur saw the knife and assumes the worst.

I did watch that film! "A Servant of Two Masters" had the pontential to be very angsty indeed. But of course they decided to make it comedy. Not that I didn't like it anyways, but a more serious take like the one you are proposing would have been GOLD.

I recently saw a post similar to this, not quite, but kind of captures the same idea: LINK

But you inspired me. So I'll add this to your vision:

Just as the movie, Agravaine orders for Merlin to be arrested before he can explain anything, proclaiming he's in alliance with Morgana. However, Arthur, though still very hurt and confused, starts to analyse the situation. Why would Merlin try to kill him now? Is not like he didn't have better chances before. Has he done something to make Merlin change his mind about him? What did Morgana offer him? And why a knife? Merlin literally serves him his food, he could have poisoned him, find a more discret way to do it, he's a physician apprentice for gods sake! Was his servant this dumb? Then he remembers, Merlin was crying through all of it, and he seemed like he was trying to tell him something but couldn't. He thought it was due his emotional confession that his servant had tears in his eyes, but now... could it be that Merlin was forced to do it? Maybe Morgana threatened someone dear to him? Like his mother or Gaius. Or maybe he just can't bare the thought of yet other person betraying him, specially if is Merlin, that now he's making excuses for him? Doesn't matter, he can't execute Merlin, even when his uncle keeps insisting on it. So he just keeps him in the dungeons ad pospones his death sentence as much as he can.

Just as Arthur gathers the caurage to go visit Merlin to ask for answers, against his uncle's wishes of course, Gaius aproaches Arthur and tells him Merlin was under the fomorroh's control giving him the burned cut head of the snake as a prove. He explains he went to visit Merlin and Merlin gave him that and told him Morgana put it in his neck to control him when he was captured, but somehow he managed to break the spell. His uncle intervenes, telling him is all lies, that Gaius just wants to save the boy because he's dear to him and accuses him right then and there of being the traitor they were looking for. For Arthur, however, there was never a doubt, his Merlin is innocent, he never wanted to betray him. He almost cries of relief and, ignoring his uncle and his physician's dicussion, he runs to see Merlin.

His smile fades once he gets there though, cause Merlin, his Merlin, is hanging from a rope. Horrified and in full panic mode, he puts him down as quickly and as carefully as he can. He yells desperately for the guards to fetch Gaius and starts making CPR, but even when Gaius later appears to help it's too late. Merlin's dead and Arthur's whole world is put upside down.

There's a note Gaius finds hidden in Merlin's clothes, it says: "I'm sorry, Gaius. I couldn't fight it much longer, I could feel it, growing back again, trying to control me and I couldn't let it, not again. I would rather cut my own arms and legs and being burn in the pyre a thousen times than hurt Arthur, much less kill him. I won't go through that nightmare again. Please tell him I love him too, that i never mean to do it. I love him more than I love myself. But if he doesn't believe you, if he hates me forever, it's alright. I don't blame him, so don't blame him either. Keep protecting him, please. Specially from Agravaine. Loves you, Merlin".

Gaius shares this letter with Arthur and of course he breaks all over again, but then he asks, "Why did Merlin told you to protect me from my uncle, Gaius?". Gaius doesn't want to answer at first, but Arthur commands him and Gaius answers carefully "he believed he was the traitor, sire". Arthur responds after a pause "And you believe that too?". There's a silence before the physician says "I gave him the pergamine and the ink, he said he wanted to write a message for you that later I would deliver. I was a fool, I should have known..." he sighs. "But I wonder... where did he get the rope?". And that's when when all clicks to Arthur. Agravaine was the one insisting on killing Merlin inmediatly amd Merlin didn't have access to any rope. He confirms it when the guards tell him Agravaine visited Merlin once, they couldn't hear what the man was telling to the boy, but it sounded like he was threatening him.

Agravaine was the traitor, Agravaine gave Merlin the rope. Agravaine is the reason his Merlin now is gone.

Arthur goes to his uncle a sword in hand and demands answer with the blade on his throat. First he dinies it, but then he laughs. "You killed my sister. You and your father" he admits. Arthur's expression remains as a stone "What did you tell him?" Arthur demands. "I just offer him a less painful way to die". Arthur kills him, but finds no satisfaction. He's dead inside. His Merlin died thinking he hated him and he let him believe that. He didn't visit him for days after all, he didn't confront him inmediatly for answers, he let his uncle cloud his mind. This was his fault.

Arthur looks at his sword and puts the point of the blade on his heart. He's about to push the blade when suddenly the doors open and the sword flies from his hand. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" a familiar panic voice shouts at him and Arthur turns. A Merlin with golden eyes is running to him and then hugs him tightly. "Are you mad?!" Merlin's still scolding him, but Arthur's just watches him in shock. "Merlin" he's only capable to mumble.

It turn's out Merlin's magic saved him somehow. It just put his body on the verge of death enough to make the fomorroh believe that the body was uninhabitable so it left his body completely. His mortal body was now too weak though, so his only vital energy left is his magic. That's why his eyes are constanly gold now. It takes a while for Arthur to understand it. Specially the magic part, but honestly, he's far too happy and relief to have Merlin back that he can't be mad about Merlin lying about his magic. In fact, if anything, he's thankful for it, since it saved Merlin's life.

"But you didn't plan that, did you? You did actually try to kill yourself" he accusses however, still heartbroken at the fact.

"It was the only way I could think of-"

"Never, Merlin" he commands him very serious. "Never do that again"

"I can't promise you that"

"Then any harm you do to yourself, I'll do it to me"

"You can't do that!" the warlock shouts horrified. "You are the king! You have a kingdom-"

"Our kingdom, Merlin! We built it together and it's nothing without you either"

"I'm just a servant, an illegal warlock now. My life doesn't matter."

"Don't ever say that again!" Arthur holds Merlin fiercely. "Didn't I tell you're the most valuable person to me? The only person I could trust with my life" tears run down his eyes.

"But.. I lied to you. I even tried to kill you"

"Lie to me then, kill me. You have my permission"

"Arthur-"

"No, I just got I glimse of what a life without you would be and I won't live it again. Not for a second. I can't lose you again".

"I can't lose you either". Merlin cries too. "My magic, everything I am, is yours. It has always been yours". Arthur caresses his cheek.

"Then let me take care of what it's mine"

Between tears, they kiss. Is not really tender or passionate, but pure necessity for the other.

"I'm sorry" Merlin snifs separating the kiss "Gods! My eyes won't stop shining" he says embarrasssed and tries to cover them.

"Don't" Arthur says while he uncovers his eyes gently. "They're beautiful" Merlin smiles but then sighs, sadly.

"The rest won't think the same"

"You don't have to worry about that"

Arthur gives Merlin a royal pardon so he's the 'only legal sorcerer' unless until he can make magic legal again completely. Gwen and the knights accept him inmediatly. The rest are wary at first but eventually they accept him too, when they realise he's the same clumsy servant they always knew. As Merlin recovers from his near death experience, his eyes glow less, but Arthur loves to see Merlin's eyes turn gold everytime.

Aaaand that's all I got. My imagination can't do much.

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin prompt #merlin fic #merthur fic #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #ask me anything #ask #i got carried away

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

The Taming of Man - Dragon-shifting Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Ay Yo, Starting a series maybe perhaps??? Idk, felt cute, might delete later. seriously though, lemme know what you think, because I'd really enjoy writing this out all the way.

EXTREMELY BASED ON The Willow Maid by Erutan, pls listen for best experience, lyrics at the end are from this!

words: 1,958

warnings: cursing, blood, probably poorly translated German, reader is she/her and will be AFAB in the future if I write this all the way out

"Fuckin' Bluebloods," Katsuki grumbled to himself, waving the Pyre Pine twig he'd picked up, batting at cobwebs and whipping tall Acrimony Trees. The trees, true to their namesake, warped their crimson roots up through the maroon dirt to try and trip him. He had been in this forest a thousand times before though, and simply dodged them, hopping on top of them as his clunky boots pounded into the ground.

He kicked at popping Portobello's, their ashy and highly spiced spores exploding out with a crackle into what fittingly appeared to be mushroom clouds, and jabbed at the star-shaped Fire flowers, which attempted to burn away his stick with flickering flames and a high-pitched squealing sound. The good thing about Pyre Pines is that they were fire-resistant, so the flowers died without retribution.

Yes, Prince Katsuki of Forrmidūl was in a terrible mood, and it was all thanks to some rich asshole who thought he was better than him. He had met with the prince of Novia earlier that day, Katsuki's mother and Prince Tenya's Father hoping for some kinship between them as the people of their countries were viciously feuding. Sure, the guy was civil, nice even, but Katsuki hated the way he looked at him. Like he was a brute. A savage. He hated the way he picked at their nations best delicacies, scraping off perfectly good Portobello paste, and he hated the way he couldn't do anything about it.

The very remembrance of it made his jaw clench, his fists tightening. He wacked at a blazing thistle with all his strength, the wine-colored stemming tips of the petals shooting off into mini red fireworks. A couple went wayward, flying into the skin of his arm. Shit. They set off, causing wounds similar to ones you might get from being shot with a BB. "God Fucking Dammit," He yelped, gripping at his left tricep and scowling at the dead plant. He swung at it a couple times more, beating the poor thing to a red mess. It wasn't blood, of course, but rather crimson chlorophyll that all plants this ring of the forest contained.

You see, he was currently in the first and largest ring of the Farbenreich Forest, known as either Böse or simply Rot, an area many dared not enter. Sure, other countries sat near the outer rim of it, but none were brave enough to seek entertainment or peace there. The area was highly dangerous, as you could definitely see, and the only people who explored it were highly skilled Dragonborne such as the Soon to be king, Katsuki.

The rings of the rainbow forest went as followed:

Böse or Rot; the ring of Rage

Eisen or Orange; The Ring of Protection

Schatz or Gelb; The Ring of Treasures

Leben or Grün; The Ring of Life

Nebel or Blau; The Ring of Mist

Unbekannt; The Unknown.

Some called Unbekannt, the center, Leela, assuming it'd be purple and follow the pattern of all the other rings, but many simply called it Unbekannt because that's what it was; Unknown. Katsuki had read about each ring in books, craving to know what was in the center, but he himself actually feared it. He never went farther than the very beginnings of Eisen, something deep within him compelling him to turn back.

He sighed, taking a seat on a rock and making sure no moss was present. The vivid memory of traveling this place with his father and sitting on a rock covered in Magma moss still haunts him. If he could recall, he couldn't sit down without being in pain from the burns for a month after. He hung his head for a moment, regaining what little calm he had, and tried to figure out what to do about his little wounds.

They'd heal in no time, surely, but at the moment blood was trickling out of each little indent in his skin. he decided to take off his linen shirt, ripping off the sleeves. He wrapped one around his muscled arm, flexing after securing it to make sure it wouldn't fall off. He took the other one and repeated, adding two layers of protection.

He told his mother he'd go camping tonight, bringing nothing with him so he could truly rough it like he always did, but given the circumstances he decided it'd be best to head back home. He stood up, turning around to head back, before something reached his ears. What was that? The humming of a dragonfly? no, it wasn't dragonfly season...no, it was definitely someone singing. Singing like an angel. He turned to the sound, whipping around but unable to face it. Who the hell was in here?!

He finally pinpointed it, realizing it was coming from deeper in the forest. Dare he wander farther? He heard many a story of mischievous Faerie creatures luring unsuspecting men to their deaths, but it was all fiction. He just wanted to know what it was...who it was...

He hesitantly began walking farther into the woods, his attention no longer on abusing the flora. He stopped periodically to close his eyes, keying in on the sound to be sure he was following it closely. Before he knew it, he was already entering Eisen, The sturdy and squat mahogany trees practically forming a wall, a maze of sorts. Mind you, when I say Mahogany, I mean the color and not the breed of wood we know.

He walked as far as he could, before the grove became too tightly packed for his muscled body to fit through. He looked around, determined to move forward and find the source of the lovely music, before finally looking up. He immediately began to climb up the dense tree formation, climbing for a solid 2 minutes before reaching the top. He stood amongst the tangerine leaves, examining what was before him.

These trees were hardly as tall as Acrimonies, so he couldn't see far, but he could see a break in the amber foliage. He carefully hopped from tree to tree, the leaves and branches unmoving, thanking whatever deity blessed him to have this adventure in the fall when most snakes and other deadly animals were hibernating. He eventually was able to make his way down, already at the joining between Eisen and Schatz.

He looked down, the soft orange grass transitioning into golden shreds. He carefully stepped on the new grass, grass he had never seen the likes of before, and it crunched beneath his feet. Pulling back, He saw that it bent like metal flakes, curling under. He began to continue his trek inward, looking around at the tall and thin fruit trees that appeared to be made of solid gold or silver. They held apples made of ruby, blueberry bushes made of sapphire, acorns of diamond...even the leaves were made of paper thin shreds of metal. Everything was shiny, and it appeased his dragon brain.

He reached up, snatching an apple off its lustrous stem, something that would take the average man all his strength to do. Stuffing it in his pack, he continued to grab up different leaves and gemstone fruits. It was heavy, really fucking heavy, but he was compelled to take as much as possible. At least, he was, before stumbling upon a skull. A human skull. A human skull, who's body was crushed beneath piles of treasure. Yeah...fuck that. He immediately dropped what was in his arms, whatever dragon instinct that had enraptured his brain being forced to silence for a moment.

Besides, that voice was getting louder, meaning he was getting closer. At this point, he could just barely tell that the singing wasn't just a tune, it had words, words that hurt his ears to try and make out at this distance. He shook off the greed he once felt, forcing himself to carry on and simply avoid looking at the stuff around him.

This section felt like the longest because of the fact that he'd have to ignore his animal brain, but it was probably smaller than all the others. He finally reached Leben, the smell hitting him before anything else. He could smell rain, and fresh flowers, and dirt. It was earthy, it was floral, it was life. He stepped to the border, watching the plants fade from gold to green. All around him was green, he'd never seen anything like it.

The trees had spirals of moss growing up the sides, a cool breeze flowing through the flora and ventilating the area. Pink flowers, similar in look to the fire flowers, sat close to the ground, it's petals facing up to the sky. Katsuki watched as a fly slowly and leisurely buzzed past, before one of the flowers shot up and snapped around it like a shark closing its jaws. Good to know.

Katsuki trod through the forest, the damp and rich soil sinking beneath his weighty step, doing his best to touch nothing as he needed to stay cautious. As he moved along, the singing got louder, and he finally could make out a couple words. The ones that stood out to him were "man" and "Forest."

He had to know what this was, who this was. He didn't even realize he had been walking for two hours in total, nor did he realize that the end of Leben was fast approaching.

The air became wetter as he reached Nebel, and he could see the misty area ahead. It was as if there was a wall of fog, a marker for the point of no return. He took a deep breath, gulping a little. "Toughen the fuck up," he muttered to himself, before finally stepping in.

The second he entered the area, it was as if night fell. He couldn't see the sky, nor the plants, nor the ground. Only fog. Even with his night vision he was blind here, and it irritated him. He began to walk forward, keeping his eyes open to try and see the slightest differences, but soon found himself re-entering Leben.

The fuck?

He tried again, and again he was in Leben. He knew now why Unbekannt was Unbekannt. He sighed, closing his eyes. This time, he saw with his ears. He cued in on the beautiful voice, the tone, the words. He slowly began walking towards it, redirecting himself when the sound began to get farther instead of nearer.

Louder and louder the voice became, Clearer and clearer, Until he no longer felt wet fog on his face. He opened his eyes, and what he saw amazed him. The trees were full of life, vibrant with fruit and leaves of all colors hanging from them, wildflowers growing in hefty fields in all arrangements of hue and style, and best of all, the singing maiden.

She was sitting on a ginormous tree stump, centered in the ring of trees, washing her feet in a brook that shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow. Her clothes looked handmade, a sage green dress layered atop a tight silk button up shirt and a white flouncy underskirt. She had more clothing in a basket next to her, presumably to wash.

Song poured from her lips like honey, her face serene as she unknowingly preformed for her audience of one.

"A young man walked through the forest With his quiver and hunting bow He heard a young girl singing And followed the sound below There he found the maiden Who lives in the willow He called to her as she listened From a ring of toadstools red Come with me, my maiden Come from thy willow bed' She looked at him serenely And only shook her head"

you were mesmerizing. You were a faerie.

You guys don't understand, this is BARELY THE BEGINNING 😭 please comment if you want more, really I'd love the feedback.

Check the comments for extra info!

#fanfic #fan fiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #new writeblr #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #bakugo #katsuki bakugo #The Taming of Man

[frodo-with-glasses]

Dreams in the House of Tom Bombadil (and the Four Elements of Trauma)

Now that we've gotten to the point where the hobbits spend the night in Tom Bombadil's house, I'd like to expand on this bullet point from my chapter review:

Much apologies to my girlies on the server who headcanon the hobbits with phobias corresponding to the four elements; sadly, Tolkien is not on the same page as us this time.

For context, I present to you these screenshots of messages sent on the Fig Tree Discord Server back in January:

This started as a half-joke, but it's since evolved into something of a shared headcanon for some of us. Pippin has a Thing about fire, because of the Pyre of Denethor. Frodo has a Thing about water, because his parents drowned. Bri has since told me that she headcanons Merry has a Thing about air, specifically cold air, after his encounters with the Black Breath. And that leaves Earth to Sam.

The good news is that this is a really fun headcanon; and when you look at LotR through this lens, it's actually kind of staggering how well it fits with the events of the book.

The bad news is that Tolkien did not write LotR with this idea in mind; and the whole thing with Old Man Willow, and the subsequent nightmares that the hobbits have in Tom Bombadil's house, make that abundantly clear.

After all, what does Old Man Willow do to Frodo? Lulls him to sleep and then tips him face-first into the water. He almost drowns. He almost drowns. Sam finds him face-down in the water, unconscious, held down by a root and not struggling; there's water in his nose and his mouth and his eyes and ears and he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he nearly goes out the same way his parents did, in a river that connects to the one where they died. If Tolkien was writing Frodo with hydrophobia, this probably would've gotten a bit more attention than it did. But no; in Tom's house, Frodo dreams of Gandalf and Black Riders, because he's the protagonist and Tolkien needed an efficient way to foreshadow things a bit.

What does Old Man Willow do to Merry? Closes its roots over him, so that only his legs are sticking out; and when Frodo and Sam set fire to the tree, Merry screams, and begs them to put it out. "He'll squeeze me in two, if you don't. He says so!" He could feel the roots of the tree clamping like a vice under his ribs, squeezing, crushing, bruising; he could hear the voice of the tree in his head, demanding he communicate the ransom message. And as our beloved former anon, Meg, pointed out: Could he breathe in there? Was it dry and stuffy and stifling inside the tree? How much air could he even draw in, when his lungs were being crushed and had no space to expand? He screams with what little breath he has left, but can they hear him? He's going to die. He can't breathe. He's going to die.

But, ironically, he's the one who dreams about nearly drowning, and his dream-brain convinces him he's lying in a "soft slimy bog" before he wakes up and finds himself in Tom's house again. He's not the one who got tipped into the water, but go off Tolkien I guess.

What does Old Man Willow do to Pippin? Closes its roots over him completely, with a click like a lock snapping into place; and when Frodo and Sam set fire to the bark, and Old Man Willow gets angry, they can hear Pippin's "muffled yell" from deep inside the tree. Fire. Smoke and ash and anger. Could Pippin smell the burning wood around him? Could he feel any heat or sting? Did he hear Old Man Willow's voice, the same way Merry did, cursing the flames and threatening to smother him if it wasn't put out?

His nightmare, out of the three of them, is the only one that makes sense to me; he dreams that he is again inside the willow, hearing the wood creak as it sways in the breeze over him, and hearing the voice of the tree laughing at him again. But, sadly, no mention of fire.

All of that to say, if I wrote Lord of the Rings—which I realize is a terribly presumptuous thing to say given that I am, unlike Tolkien, Not A Genius, but hear me out—I definitely would have Frodo's nightmare be about drowning, Merry's be about suffocation, and Pippin's be about burning alive. This would then be foreshadowing for the later horrific stuff they're going to encounter concerning water, air, and fire respectively.

I dunno. It just seems like a missed opportunity is all. Which is probably why, despite how much I adore the “nightmares revealing inner turmoil and then characters waking up in safety and comfort” trope, I never really liked this sequence in the book all that much.

Sam, meanwhile, is welcome to continue sleeping “in deep content, if logs are contented". Good for him. 10/10, no notes.

#four elements of trauma #old man willow #frodo baggins #meriadoc brandybuck #merry #peregrin took #pippin #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #long post #i do realize that it is very silly to criticize tolkien for not adhering to a headcanon we made decades after his death but hear me out #we’re right 🤣 #that is all

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

The Many Names of Lady Sabitha Blackwood - Meet Me in the After

Lady Sabitha Blackwood has been known by many names through the years, not all of them kind. As a girl, Sabitha was said to have greendreams, often seeing events that would unfold well into the future. For this gift, her father, Lord Owen Blackwood, bestowed on her the endearment Raventouched. Upon her wedding to Ser Theodred Smallwood, the second son of the widowed Lord Theomer of Acorn Hall, she was known as Lady Smallwood. Two years into her marriage, and her service to Queen Aemma, who was known to have called the Blackwood girl friend, her clandestine affair with Prince Daemon Targaryen was discovered, earning her the moniker of The Dragon's Plaything, oft believed to draw attention to the many years between the lovers in age. Though there were fifteen summers between them, it was said that the prince sought her council, and referred to his mistress as nuhos ozzālanos, or my pyre in High Valyrian, a term that filled his elder brother with a simmering anger.

It was recorded that at one time, the new Queen of Westeros, Alicent Hightower, called her former friend and confidant secret keeper, though many wondered exactly what secret the queen was referring to. Maester Mellos recorded that it was to do with King Viserys' choice of second wife, though Maester Gyldayne is confident that the secret in question had nothing to do with Queen Alicent at all, and everything to do with the sudden death of Queen Aemma. One evening, while in his cups, King Viserys cornered Lady Sabitha at a feast in celebration of his second daughter's birth, loudly proclaiming for all the hear that she would henceforth be known as The Barren Bride for her inability to provide Ser Theodred or his own brother with a child. He cursed her, saying she would bear neither heir nor bastard. It is noted that Ser Theodred did nothing to dissuade the king and made no effort to comfort his wife. After the brutal murder of his grandson, Prince Jaehaerys, and the attack on his daughter and granddaughter, Lord Otto Hightower declared that Lady Sabitha was a shapechanger and a witch, accusing the woman of shedding her human body to take the form of a rat, leading the murderers Blood and Cheese through the tunnels of the holdfast and assisting in their heinous crimes. "The whore knows no shame, no bounds," the Hand raged to his grandson, Prince Aemond. "She is guilty of blood magic and more and I will have her head and her husband's for the death of the heir." When Lady Sabitha heard of the Hand's outburst, she rolled her eyes, waving off the accusation. "A rat, he says? Fitting, considering his own loyalties and betrayals. Perhaps Lord Otto should learn more about his enemies, and his own family, for what use does a dragon have for a rat?" Lady Sabitha lived out her days as The Lady of Whispers, maintaining the once-ruined keep on the northeastern coast of the crownlands that Prince Daemon was granted upon their wedding, largely believed to be the eye of a storm in the Black Queen's attempt to reclaim the Iron Throne. Many believe the granting of this keep to be King Viserys' final jab at his younger brother, sending him away from King's Landing one last time to live out his days with his barren bride.

#daemon targaryen x original character #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen edit #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #house of the dragon edit #daemon targaryen x oc #house of the dragon #hotd #fyeahhotdocs #fyeahasoiafocs #ocappreciation #oc: sabitha blackwood #daemon x sabitha #fic: meet me in the after #my edit

[burningvelvet]

that time shelley and byron made a macabre bet and it may or may not have cursed them for decades to come: a tale

at christmas dinner in 1821 byron and shelley were complaining about when they would inherit their estates — byron from his hated and estranged mother-in-law, shelley from his hated and estranged father. like the dramatic rich poets they were, byron made a bet with shelley of £1000 that his 70-year-old mother-in-law would die before shelley’s 68-year-old dad, and shelley readily accepted the bet convinced he would win.

by some stroke of fate, byron’s mother-in-law actually died almost exactly one month later. byron quickly inherited his part of the fortune but he refused to pay shelley, which everyone found annoying and awkward. especially since shelley had just given byron a fancy case of gold napoleonic medals for his birthday. byron was known for being charitable, especially with friends, so it isn’t clear why he refused to pay shelley but it’s possibly because he had been very drunk at the time whereas shelley had been very sober (as was usually the case when byron hosted dinner parties).

ANYWAY, to the point. to make things more morbid (because we’re talking about byron and the shelleys here), byron’s daughter died unexpectedly 3 months after his mother-in-law, and then shelley died less than 3 months after that in a wrecked boat named after byron’s poem don juan. its original name was ariel after shakespeare’s the tempest (a play about a boat wreck…!) but byron renamed it don juan as a prank which pissed shelley off, probably partly because historically it’s considered very bad luck to rename a boat.

meanwhile, percy’s father (who he was so sure would die soon) outlived him by over 20 years, dying at age 91 (which was ancient back then). this was to the great annoyance of mary, her son, claire, and everyone else shelley had named in his will, who were all intently waiting to inherit the money from his dad, who prevented execution of the will due to being a general asshole and hating all of shelley’s friends. to heighten the irony, shelley had also left lord byron £2000 in his will (more than twice their bet) and named him an executor. however, byron died two years after shelley, so he did not live to inherit the money from shelley’s dad.

to heighten the irony further, one of the reasons that byron died of a fever in 1824 was (in his own words & speculation beforehand) because his immune system never fully recovered from an illness he got after swimming for over five hours at percy shelley’s funeral in 1822. * shelley died from drowning (as he often predicted he would) after his boat don juan was wrecked during a storm.

and if all this wasn’t insane enough…

*as an aside: that last part may sound especially insensitive of byron, but he wasn’t the only one swimming at shelley’s funeral! it was a beach side funeral pyre (as shelley died in a boat wreck, & italian quarantine laws forced them to cremate him where he was) on one of the hottest days of the year. all attendees were severely sunburnt, exhausted, & drunkenly delirious after being out multiple days in a row looking for the bodies, burning williams the day before (shelley’s friend who also died), & mourning. byron was also famously known for his swimming talent — he actually pioneered open water swimming & competitions are still held annually in his honor — but that day in the water, he went drastically overboard (no pun intended) likely from his emotional disturbance!

#to be fair they didnt need to be cursed #they just did it themselves #rich fuckboy goth poets #lord byron #percy shelley #mary shelley #sir timothy shelley #the romantics #romanticism #history #funny #bizarre #rich people #poets #writers #literary history #the geneva squad #geneva squad

[apocalypseornaw]

Rather have You

Dean Winchester x reader

Follow up to Last Night

Warnings: cursing, mention of violence, attempted suicide?

You felt your heart drop to your feet when the door of the cabin slammed open and in walked an extremely pissed off looking Dean.

Before you could move from your spot he'd flipped the table in front of you causing a wide assortment of spell ingredients and blood to splash across the room. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON IN YOUR HEAD?" He yelled as he stood over you.

You quickly climbed to your feet, facing him as both of you stared each other down. You watched as his anger quickly dissolved, tears brimming in his green eyes "You left me" He sounded so damn broken it made your own tears threaten to spill "Dean, it's not that simple"

He waved a hand towards the mess that was littered around the room "So this was?" You swallowed hard "Rowena promised she wouldn't tell you until it was done" he laughed humorlessly "oh that's where you messed up sweetheart, cause she kept the promise but you didn't make her promise to not tell Crowley and it was easy to get a hellhound to sniff you out considering"

"Dean, the spell would reset everything. You and Sam would never be hunters, you'd had a normal..safe life and it would even shield the people you've saved..they wouldn't be effected" you knew he'd never have agreed to it. That's why you'd left when you found the spell, hidden amongst the journals long buried in the men of letters bunker you'd uncovered in New Orleans.

You'd snuck into Billie's library and read over a thousand of his and Sam's ending, they were all bloody and violent. You couldn't lose anyone else like that. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Rufus...the list was too long. You refused to light the pyre on either Winchester.

He shook his head slowly, tears sliding down his face making your heart crumble "What about you?" You swallowed hard again, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you "My life would be the fuel for it. I'd be erased from having ever existed" "let me guess but you figured out a way to shield the people you saved too right?"

You nodded slowly and he scoffed "And it never occurred to you to ask if that's what we wanted? A safe, normal life..notice you didn't say happy. How the hell am I supposed to live a happy life without you?" You felt tears start to slide down your face "Dean, yours and Sam's endings are always bloody. I read so many..it's not worth it"

He took a step towards you and that was when any resolve you had broke. Without thinking you were in his arms. "Fuck fate, everything that says what's supposed to happen can go to hell. We can change it. I have faith in me, you and Sam, I know we've handled everything that's came our way but I can't let the Winchester trait of self sacrificing take you from me. I love you and I'd rather have you and a bloody, violent life then a safe one without you. Sam's your best friend and I know he feels the same"

You were sobbing in Dean's arms by the time he was through talking. You looked up at him and he smiled softly, wiping your tears away "Can we go home?" You asked and he nodded before asking "Can I trust I can fall asleep without the woman I love disappearing and trying to sacrifice herself for me?"

"I'm sorry" you whispered before he brushed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss, full of everything he couldn't put into words. When he pulled away he leaned his forehead against yours "Don't do that sweetheart. Don't apologize, hell you learned this shit from us just talk to me please...I don't want to think about what would've happened if I hadn't made it here in enough time"

You moved to catch his lips in another kiss, pulling him as close as humanly possible "Take me home Dean"

@deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @winchestersgirl222

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader

[gamesbyalbie]

The Cursed Journey

The Cursed Journey is a work of short fiction I'm in the process of writing and releasing. Entries are treated as drafts (and thus are subject to change). Below the cut you'll find links to all the entries, release dates, and a list of changes I've made to the story.

The Cursed Journey: A Summary

The Cursed Journey is about a world where writer's block kills. Those who fall victim to the Writer's Curse enter a catatonic state and are kept alive at The Ward—if they can afford the treatment.

Ody Specter is one of the few remaining authors, though they can feel the curse breathing down their neck. They can't write forever, no matter how hard they try.

No one knows what writers experience once they've been seized by the curse. Some remain peaceful. Others twitch and murmur. Most thrash and scream until their bodies give out. But why? What's happening to them?

And what will happen to Ody?

Read the Cursed Journey...

PROXY (released March 14, 2024)

INTERVIEW (released March 14, 2024)

DEMIGHOST (released March 16, 2024)

DELIVERED (released March 14, 2024)

BRAINSTORM (released March 30, 2024)

BEDSIDE (released March 29, 2024)

SUMMIT (released March 30, 2024)

MOTIVE (released March 29, 2024)

GENESIS (released April 3, 2024)

DESCENT (coming soon)

TRIAL (coming soon)

ZOMBIE (coming soon)

DISTANCE (coming soon)

PYRE (coming soon)

UNREAD (coming soon)

REWRITE (coming soon)

Changes

Motive (now part 8) was originally released as part 6. This changed to part 7 on March 30th, 2024.

Order of entries changed March 31st, 2024 (flashback sequences with Minjoon were all moved up by one).

Images from Unsplash

#writing #fiction #short fiction #cursed journey #albie writes

[pigeon-princess]

If you've ever wanted to know about our Curse of Strahd campaign this is a summary of everything so far. We have been playing for over a year so it's a very long read!

We are about halfway through the campaign so there are still a few major plot points and important NPCs that we have not encountered yet so please no spoilers in any tags, questions or responses! 

Our campaign has a few added homebrew elements, extended lore from the novels and some NPCs that have been added/changed by our DM so some things will vary from the source book!

Disclaimers: Spoilers below the cut for major Curse of Strahd plot points in Vallaki, Argynvostholt, Dinner at Ravenloft, Wizard of Wines and more. 

Our party members: 

Benoit - Tiefling Druid (Circle of Stars) 

Silas Shaw - Human Wizard (Order of Scribes)

Lucius “Thornhill”- Aasimar Paladin (Oath of devotion) (+ his golden retriever summoned familiar called Dog) 

Benoit was looking for a way into Barovia Valley to search for his missing mentor who was looking into the situation happening with the Dusk Elves. 

Lucius, a paladin with a sordid past, was following a mysterious letter from a “Kolyan Indirovich” who apparently needed help to save the love of his life. 

Silas was desperately trying to get out of the city after escaping his abusive mother who kept him sick and locked in their dilapidated home, while also hoping to get any information about his absent wizard father. 

ENTERING BAROVIA

The party started their journey at the Elfsong Tavern in Balder’s Gate. 

The unlikely group of three made their way into Barovia Valley, following the road until they were quickly lost in the mists.

While camping on the first night, Silas had a very vivid dream of being trapped back in his house. He had lost the ability to walk again and had to crawl through a pool of blood to rescue his father’s spellbook that had been cast into the fire. 

On the road, the party discovered the body of a dead man. His pockets contained another version of Kolyan’s letter (seemingly the real one) detailing a vampire attack on his daughter Ireena Kolyana. 

The group arrived in Barovia Village where they met Ismark at the Blood of the Vine Tavern. Discovering that his father Kolyan (The Burgomaster of Barovia Village) had recently died, drunk and distressed, Ismark further explained the attacks from Strahd von Zarovich (A vampire and the dark lord of Barovia Valley) on his sister Ireena.

The party agreed to help Ismark bury his father and assist in finding a safer place for Ireena to stay. 

While staying in the Burgomaster’s house. Luci experienced a dream in a beautiful church, where a faceless man stood in the flames of a burning pyre. The figure invited Luci to come and sit with him.

The group assisted Ireena and Ismark in getting their father’s coffin to the local church and there they met Father Donovich. After hearing screaming from the floor beneath, Ismark attempted to force his way into the cellar and Donovich started to grapple him. Silas cast levitate on Father Donovich, sending him high into the rafters of the church. The group discovered Doru in the basement, Donovich’s son who had been turned into a vampire spawn. 

With the horrible condition Doru was in the party decided that a mercy killing was the only solution. The party locked a crying Donovich in a spare room and sent Ismark and Ireena outside. Silas firmly stayed upstairs while Luci and Benoit went down to put Doru out of his misery. 

Doru fought back, making an escape for the stairs and scaring the absolute shit out of Silas who then cast fireball for the first time. This completely annihilated Doru. His burning corpse tumbled down the stairs and landed right at Lucius’s feet, a vivid memory of the burning man from his dream resurfacing.

In a solemn mood, the party burned what remained of Kolyan and Doru in the graveyard.

A supernatural mist surrounded the party and large wolves began to attack. Combat commenced and after the fight, the party got their first glance of Strahd. He appeared on horseback from a distance before turning and leaving. 

OLD BONEGRINDER

The group decided to head towards Vallaki, in hopes that the Church of St Andral would be consecrated ground where Ireena would be safe from Strahd. 

The party encountered a woman selling “Dream Pies” to soulless people. They saw a couple give their child to the woman in exchange for pies and the little girl was thrown into a sack.

 Lucius insisted that the party needed to intervene and much to Silas’s annoyance, they followed the woman towards the mill known as Old Bonegrinder. 

Just outside of Old Bonegrinder, the party discovered their first megalith and saw that the shrine was desecrated with teeth. A very large raven flew over and was clearly trying to communicate something about the teeth to the party. 

The group stormed into Old Bonegrinder and began combat with two hags, the third one apparently still out. 

During combat the party realised that one of the Hags had turned herself into Ismark, shoving the real Ismark into the oven. 

After dragging Ismark out of the oven and saving him by mere seconds, the party managed to make it out alive as the entire Bonegrinder burnt to the ground. Luckily saving the little girl in the process. 

Running over from the megalith, the raven turned into a person and the party met Falkon Targolov for the first time. A wereraven and relative of the Martikov family. He said he was planning to take down the hags himself and that he worked for a group called the Keepers of the Feather.

VALLAKI 

The group agreed to meet with Falkon later at the Bluewater Inn and before long, finally arrived in Vallaki. 

They made a very quick beeline to the Church of St Andral, but were surprised by the four fresh gravestones out front that listed everyone's names, excluding Ireena. 

As soon as Luci’s familiar was able to cross the threshold of the church, being a demonic creature, Luci could immediately sense that the church was not consecrated. 

Lucius spoke with Father Lucien Petrovich, inquiring about the graves and asking if he could take in the little girl with the other orphans at the church. 

Father Lucien explained that the graves were recently commissioned and he would look into the records. Sensing that Luci was a man of god, he admitted that the bones of St Andral that usually kept the church consecrated had been stolen.

Silas attempted to have a conversation with a boy called Milivoj who was digging the graves and completely embarrassed himself. 

While heading to the inn, the group walked past the Burgomaster's mansion and saw a bright pink flash of energy from the attic. Silas recognised the flash as a spell going off and was immediately intrigued.

Outside the inn the party saw a colourful caravan with "Rictavio's Carnival of Wonders" painted on the side. Silas attempted to look inside but bailed when he heard a growl from behind the bars.

The party met the owners of the Bluewater Inn, Urwin and Danika Martikov and their sons - all wereravens like Falkon. 

Falkon arrived soon after looking battered, carrying an ancient looking book. He had apparently defeated the last hag by himself.  

Falkon took them up to his room in the cramped attic called the Raven Loft. Silas asked hesitantly, “Do you… pay to live here?” And Falkon said “No.” To which Silas replied, “Good.” 

Benoit helped translate the parts of the book that were in druidic. They learnt about the history of the valley, including the Delmorians and the Fanes. 

Falkon asked the party for assistance with the druids who had taken over the Wizard of Wines. 

Later that night, the party met Karl and Nikolai Wachter and played a game of cards with them, learning more about the political situation in Vallaki, the Burgomaster’s family and the constant festivals. 

That night Benoit had a dream of the Gulthias tree burning and spoke with a ghostly dusk elf woman called Petrina. 

The following morning the party met the owner of the caravan, Rictavio. He told them he had a monkey but gave it to Blinksy the toymaker. 

BURGOMASTER'S ATTIC

On the way back to the church of St Andral, Silas begged the party to peek in the attic at the Burgomaster’s mansion. Through various means of levitating and flying the party broke into the top floor. 

The door on the far end had a ward that electrocuted Luci when he went to knock. 

Inside the party found a workshop belonging to the baronet, Viktor Vallakovich. After snooping around and admiring the skeleton cats, the party discovered a faulty teleportation circle. It was only when Luci tried to destroy the circle with a dagger that Viktor revealed himself from his invisibility spell and attempted to stop him.  

He immediately said he would have us all arrested for breaking in since he was the Burgomaster’s son. The party had a long and tense conversation with him, discussing his experiments to find a way out of Barovia. He talked about exploding a few of his maids in the process and the treatment of his once promised fiancee, Stella Wachter, who he modified her memory into believing she was a cat. He mentioned important books and information at Wachterhaus (The Wachter family’s home) that he believed would be useful. 

Silas was ecstatic about meeting another wizard for the first time; the party was less enthusiastic. 

At the church, Luci and Benoit found a fish hook near where the bones had been stolen from. The party learnt that Milivoj was the one who took the bones and that would usually help a fisherman called Bluuto out on Lake Zarovich. 

LAKE ZAROVICH

Travelling to the Lake, the party stopped by the Vistani camp There they found out about the missing 7 year old oracle, Arabelle. 

The party spoke briefly with Kassimir the dusk elf, Benoit mentioning the dreams with Petrina and learnt that she was once Kassimir’s sister and engaged to Strahd. He asked for assistance with ancient knowledge at the Amber Temple.

At the lake the party managed to stop Bluuto attempting to sacrifice Arabelle to the lake by throwing her overboard in a sack.

Silas levitated him and in his dying breaths he said “The feast…two days” before biting his tongue and dying. Great.

After bringing Arabelle home safely, she gave the part Tarokka readings which mentioned a tome of ancient knowledge, a sword of sunlight and an artefact of protection.

FESTIVAL OF THE BLAZING SUN 

The party returned to Vallaki before the festival of the blazing sun. 

That night Silas received a dream where he spoke directly to Strahd - Strahd gave Silas the ability to finally open his fathers spellbook. Scared of the party’s reaction, Silas decided not to tell anyone about it. 

Shortly after the dream, Silas snuck out at 3am to go over to the Burgomasters mansion. He levitated up to Viktor’s bedroom and asked if he would be interested in sharing spells. It was only when Silas mentioned his father's spell book that Viktor took an interest. 

The next day was the festival of the blazing sun. The party attended the bizarre display hosted by Vargus the Burgomaster and a very sad band. 

From the crowd Silas tried to get Viktor’s attention on the podium. Viktor did a spinning motion with his finger telling Silas to spin in a circle, which he did immediately to Viktor's amusement. Luci hurriedly told Silas to cut it out. 

It started to rain as the guards failed to light the wicker sun, and when one guard started to laugh, Vargus ordered him to be killed. 

 Before the party could intervene they quickly discovered that the Wachter brothers had released a sabertooth tiger into the streets, one that was apparently in Rictavio’s caravan. 

After a lot of running around, rescuing an injured Nikolai and herding the creature out of town, they managed to get the tiger back into the caravan. 

Rictavio told them he would be leaving, before giving a very stern talking to Silas where his poor deception revealed he had spoken with Strahd. Rictavio promptly removed a tracking spell that Strahd had put on Silas’s spellbook. 

WACHTERHAUS + LORD VASILI

Taking advantage of the fact that Nikolai had gotten hurt, the party went over to Wachterhaus to check on him while also snooping around. Silas got his arm stuck in the fence while trying to get inside. 

Karl informed them that his mother currently had a guest staying over called Lord Vasili von Holz.

After meeting Vasili who was surprised to find the entire party snooping around the small library, he invited them all to have dinner with him.

The party had a pleasant evening with Lady Wachter and Vasili, hearing all about Lady Wachter’s dissatisfaction with the current leader of Vallaki. 

The next day the party discovered that Silas's spellbook could directly copy the contents of other books within a 8-10 ft radius. This included important documents from Wachterhaus and all of Luci’s personal diary which Silas had been reading secretly every night. 

Reading his father's book, Silas also found out that his father was Otto (Inventor of Otto's Irresistible Dance), a famous wizard and bard who was close friends of Mordenkainen. Silas was utterly humiliated that his father was a Bard Wizard but was more gutted to realise that Otto had died 2 years prior at the hands of Vecna. 

THE FEAST 

With no new leads on the missing bones, the party went on a search through Vallaki. Silas decided to attach his spellbook to Falkon in raven form so he could fly around and look for any clues with a detect magic spell.  

Finding a strong source of magic, the party very aggressively barged into the coffin maker's shop at the edge of town. Once again terrorising and killing an elderly man as he ran through Benoit's Spike Groth spell.  

Not only did the party manage to find the bones, but also an entire shop filled with vampire spawn. 

An intense combat ensued where the party was completely swarmed. Silas managed to dimension door out with Ismark while Luci jumped from the second floor skewering a vampire spawn and crushing it with the weight of his armour. 

The city fell into complete chaos with buildings on fire and citizens being killed by vampires left and right. This was “The Feast” that Bluuto had mentioned. 

The party ran into Vasili who was protecting a group of children from two vampire spawn. With his help the party managed to get to the Church of St Andral just in time to meet Anastrasya, a full blooded vampire and one of Strahd’s wives.

She killed Father Lucien in front of the party and then turned her attention to Vasili where she called him “Dear” and exposed him as Strahd Von Zarovich in disguise. (We all screamed at the table) 

To protect the party, Luci handed over the bones to Strahd and in return he promised to clean up Anastrasya’s mess. 

Due to a poor perception check from Luci and many bad rolls in the future, Luci continues to see Strahd in his handsome Vasili form throughout the campaign.

The party facing the aftermath of The Feast

LEAVING VALLAKI 

Safely back at the Bluewater Inn, Luci had a dream where he spoke with Strahd in the church of St Andral. Strahd handed the ownership of the church over to Luci and asked him to fix it up.

Silas insisted that the party should allow Viktor to travel with them, saying "I need to bring him along to teach me more spells." And Ismark replied snarkily "Oh yeah? He's going to teach you spells? How is he going to teach you? Is he going to teach you orally? with tongue?!"  And Silas flew into a complete fit of rage and embarrassment.

The party investigated Wachterhaus again, finding the long dead body of Lady Wachter's husband hidden in their bedroom but also finding the Tome of Strahd in a box of bones.  

The party told Karl and Nikolai about the body and encouraged them to get out of town and head to Kresk.

In the chaos that followed, the party made plans to leave town as soon as possible, with their sights set on Argynvostholt where Luci’s tarokka reading spoke of a sword of sunlight. 

With a revolt happening against the Burgomaster, Silas told Viktor to meet them at the Bluewater Inn. He waited for Viktor like a nervous war wife while Luci and Ismark went to look at Luci’s new church. On the way there they saw Lady Wachter leading a mob against the Burgomaster and his wife and allowed them to carry on. While the Burgomaster’s Mansion was set on fire, Luci and Ismark continued to clean up the church and had a heart to heart conversation.

Falkon dragged Viktor into the inn by the scruff of his collar and with no home left to return to, Silas invited Viktor to travel with them. He very quickly agreed to tag along. The party were mostly outraged but Luci firmly said "Make your choices, Silas."

That night Strahd talked with Luci again in his dreams, this time by a lake from Luci’s hometown. The following morning Luci woke up with an invitation for the entire party to a dinner at Castle Ravenloft scheduled in the next few days. Ireena adamantly insisted that she wanted to go to give Strahd a piece of her mind.

Silas was becoming increasingly jealous that Strahd was now only contacting Luci.

The party found a scroll of resurrection that was left by Rictavio. The scroll was given to Ireena to hold onto. 

THE ROAD TO ARGYNVOSTHOLT 

With a huge travelling party consisting of Falkon, Viktor, Ismark, Ireena, Luci, Benoit and Silas, the group grabbed new winter clothes, got their weapons silvered and bought horses from the Vistani for their trip up the mountain.

Just off the main road out of Vallaki, Luci, Ismark and Benoit stumbled on a body strung up between two trees, yellow flowers and fungi growing from his chest with druidic writing written across the stones. 

When a storm started to get too strong, the group found shelter in an abandoned cabin.

The party took some time to read Strahd’s tome (We are using the interactive tome) learning about his childhood and the battle of Argynvostholt. They learnt about his right hand Rahadin the dusk elf and his best friend Alek Guilym who looked not exactly the same but very similar to Luci. They found information about his brother Sergei, the sun sword that he wielded and Tatyana, a woman identical to Ireena. 

Within the tome, Benoit had a very important conversation with a woman called Lysaga who he quickly realised was still alive from hundreds of years ago and was very aware that she was communicating through a book.

Silas asked Viktor if he would form a wizard alliance with him.

On the way up the side of the mountain, the group met a Vistani man called Arrigal, who told them he was looking for a horse thief called Esmerelda - The party learnt that Esmerelda is a vampire hunter and was once a student of Van Richten. (Silas's favourite author and famous monster hunter)

Inside Argynvostholt the group stole a bunch of stuff from Godfrey Guilym’s room and absolutely decimated some revenants in an overkill combat (This incredible combat involved Luci’s insanely strong addon damage, a moonbeam spell revealing Falkon’s true form and a double fireball spell from Silas and Viktor.) 

In one of the hallways, the party saw a line of marble busts. For a moment one appeared as Benoit's decapitated head. Benoit called Strahd pathetic for trying to scare him. They realised that Strahd harbours a lot of resentment as he is unable to contact Benoit through dreams like he can with the rest of the party.

Speaking with the revenant of Godfrey (And sheepishly returning his stolen property), he let us know that the revenant of Vladimir Horngaard was the one who had the sun sword. 

The party had an absolutely agonising (and incredible) combat against Vladimir. Luci was caught in close quarters and was pinned to the ground, having his head smashed against the ground over and over by Vladimir, leaving him dead. 

Once Vladimir was defeated and the sun sword obtained, Ireena used the scroll of resurrection to bring Luci back to life (He now has a fear of fire). Ismark being unable to stop Vladimir in the fight took Luci's death very personally.

The party returned back to Arrigal’s campsite in silence, getting a short sleep in before they were expected to be picked up for their dinner at Castle Ravenloft. 

Strahd’s black carriage arrived and the party gave the tome to Falkon for safe-keeping and agreed to meet back up again at the Wizard of Wines. 

Although he was not invited, Viktor decided that he was also going to attend the dinner and faced the realisation that he was no longer the Burgomaster's son. 

DINNER WITH STRAHD

The exhausted party arrived at the gates of Castle Ravenloft and were met by Rahadin. Just being within his "deathly choir" aura took a bunch of hit points off Silas. 

They met Strahd at the grand staircase, Luci still completely covered in his own blood. 

Strahd was unimpressed by their attire and with Viktor being an uninvited guest. He informed them he had already selected new clothes for them to wear and that Rahadin would escort them to the guest wing.

When Silas hesitated to follow Rahadin up the stairs, the deathly choir got louder, making Silas collapse on the stairs. 

In the guest wing they met Escher, Strahd's newest consort. They had already heard a lot about Escher from Falkon as they were dating before Escher decided to leave and turn into a vampire.

The party in their dinner outfits 

After changing into new clothes, Escher refused to take the group downstairs.

When the party arrived in the dining hall by themselves, Strahd had very purposefully arranged the seating plan. Ireena on his left and Luci directly on his right. 

Silas’s jealousy of Strahd's attention towards Luci was starting to boil over at this point.

At the table they met the other brides, Ludmilla and Anastrasya again - they were informed that Volenta was currently out.

After directing Ireena to sit, Strahd said “This seat is for Ireena’s brother.” And when Ismark went to sit, Strahd instructed “No, no. not you.” and made him sit one seat over. 

As the dinner started, a new person entered the room, a bodyguard working for Strahd called Izek. He was very confused when Strahd told him to dine with us. The party discovered that Izek was Ireena’s real biological brother who she believed had died when they were children. 

The very awkward dinner continued.

Benoit started up a charming conversation with Ludmilla. Since she wanted to discuss some more sensitive topics, Ludmilla stood and told Strahd very boldly she would be getting more wine from downstairs with Benoit. Strahd watched in silent fury as they left the room.

After Luci accidentally mentioned that he had died earlier that day, Strahd stood from the table and politely asked if Luci would join him for a walk since he had something to show him. 

Luci turned to Silas as he stood and said “I’ll just be a few minutes” and Silas replied with the most sarcastic and acidic “Sure.” 

With Benoit and Luci both gone from the table, completely filled with rage and jealousy, Silas grabbed a wine bottle and began to drink heavily. 

PRIVATE CONVERSATIONS

Strahd had a very intimate conversation with Luci, taking him to his study and showing him the brand new red and black platemail armour that he had commissioned specifically for him.

Luci bashfully replied saying “Red is not really my colour.” Strahd smiled and said, “Well that’s not true, you looked beautiful in red when you arrived here.” referring to when Luci arrived covered in blood. Strahd casually offered Luci the idea of companionship and the opportunity to do good work in Barovia, and Luci hesitated leaving the answer vague but not turning down the offer down completely. 

Benoit downstairs in the wine cellar saw the dead body of Milivoj and a number of others strung up in the basement, blood being drained from their bodies and into wine barrels.

He took note but continued his conversation with Ludmilla, asking her what she would do if Strahd was no longer in the picture and organised to meet up with her in the library after dinner to discuss further.

Drunk Silas started to pick fights with Ismark, asking if everyone was going to let Luci get away with this.

Silas demanded that Izek take him and Viktor to look at Strahd’s Library.

In the library Viktor started to hunt through books while Silas had a really pleasant and sobering conversation with Izek. Learning that he seemed to be a very kind hearted man in a difficult situation. He even asked “What's a wizard?” to Silas’s absolute surprise and horror. 

Silas offered to lend some of his books to Izek, asked about his job and if there was a chance he’d be able to travel with them for a short time,with the hope he could speak properly with Ireena.

After Viktor found castle floor plans, Silas attempted a high five but since neither of them had ever done one before, they ended up just touching their palms together for a weird amount of time before both awkwardly shrugging it off. 

Benoit, Ludmilla, Luci and Strahd arrived back to realise three people were no longer at the table.

As the library trio were about to leave, Izek opened the door to reveal Strahd standing in the hallway.

Izek immediately took the fall for Silas and lied saying that he offered to take them to the Library. Strahd told Izek and Viktor to leave and Viktor left Silas behind without even a second glance. 

Strahd offered Silas the role of his successor and Silas's response was extremely sceptical. Strahd also mentioned that apparently the famous monster hunter Van Richten wants to kill Silas since he has Strahd's Tome. Silas is Van Richten's biggest fan and was extremely concerned and confused about this information.  

The party all returned to the table. Luci asked Ismark if he was doing alright, and Ismark looked at Luci baffled saying "Why is it when something bad happens to you, you're always asking me if I'm alright? You're the one who just died."

Silas started an argument that Luci's death was more traumatic for him because he had to watch it happen.

After dinner Strahd decided to give a tour of the castle, leaving Viktor alone at the table with the brides. 

As they were leaving the dining room Strahd pulled Benoit aside and threatened him saying “Conspire with my wife again and I’ll have you killed.” Benoit stared him down defiantly said “Ok. Sure.” 

During the tour, out of spite Benoit revealed to everyone that he had found Milivoj dead and strung up in the wine cellar. Strahd furiously decided that the tour was over and that Izek would escort the party to their rooms for the night. 

AFTER DINNER CHAOS 

The post dinner conversations were very tense, the party sharing what Strahd had said to them. While Viktor was away the party raised concerns about his lack of participation in the fight that led to Luci’s death, to which Silas was very defensive.

Benoit went to talk privately with Ludmilla in the Library. He learnt more about the Druids at Yester Hill and the location of his mentor. Benoit very casually asked if she'd let him stay the night with her and having already endeared himself, she gave him a once over and nodded calmly allowing him to follow her to her room. (We all started to cheer for Benoit at the table!)

Luci decided to go and speak with Strahd alone to confront him about the all lies he had told him in his numerous dreams. When Luci showed up to Strahd's bedchambers, Escher was immediately kicked out by Strahd.

Strahd spoke with Luci, skillfully turning around every lie and positioning himself as lonely and sympathetic, endearing himself to Luci even more. At one point Strahd cast modify memory on Luci in order to make sure Luci believed him, spinning the story that the others were simply just jealous of him. Strahd offered a hand to Luci again, asking him to stay the night. Luci agreed and slept with Strahd. 

When Silas found out that Luci had gone to Strahd and wasn’t coming back for the night, he sent Luci the angriest sending spell saying “You’re an idiot, a fucking traitor and a waste of a perfectly good resurrection scroll.” Silas got no reply. 

After speaking with Ireena and Ismark about the state of the party, Silas numbly sat with Viktor in a spare bedroom. Silas ripped into Viktor questioning him about leaving Silas alone with Strahd. He reminded Viktor that without Silas, he would be abandoned by the party immediately so if he wanted to stay he needed to think of someone besides himself.

Viktor apologised and after some more conversations he admitted that he had witnessed his parents being stoned to death and that maybe he wasn’t completely alright after Vallaki.

They had a heart to heart, Silas telling him about his own situation with his abusive mother and Viktor telling Silas he was an idiot for believing that Van Richten wanted to kill him.

They spent the remainder of the evening studying together.

THE NEXT MORNING

Benoit and Luci sheepishly returned to the guest wing the following morning, walking into the room where Ismark, Ireena, Silas and Viktor sat waiting for them. 

Silas completely flew off the handle at both of them, Benoit also getting berated but not nearly as severely as Luci. 

Luci tried to explain the situation, sharing his belief that perhaps Strahd wasn’t as bad as everyone painted him as but was quickly and harshly scorned by Silas. Further pushing what Strahd had said about everyone being against Luci into his mind and dividing the party. 

Luci informed everyone that Strahd had granted Izek a short leave for him to travel with us. 

Silas discovered that he was unable to contact Falkon through sending spell and was worried something had happened to him and the tome.

To the surprise of everyone except for Silas, Ismark announced that he and Ireena would actually be going back to Barovia Village for a short time for their own safety. They wished the party luck and said that perhaps they would reconvene in Kresk. 

With the absence of Ireena and Ismark and the weighty understanding of why they had left, the atmosphere in the carriage ride back was horrendous and more arguments insued.

Luci swore that he would never do anything to put Ireena in danger and before Silas could argue back, Viktor interrupted saying “No. No Silas, he’s right…he’d fuck anyone to protect Ireena!” which made Silas laugh harder than he ever has in his life, while Luci and Benoit sat in heated silence. 

Art of Falkon and Izek by our incredible DM - @oneirotect

WIZARD OF WINES

The carriage dropped them off at the outskirts of the Wizard of Wines. The new, strange party were united in their goal of hopefully finding and recovering Falkon and Strahd's Tome.  

Luci donned his incredible new armour to the absolute horror of Silas. Luci's old armour was destroyed in the combat with Vladimir so he argued back that its better than no armour at all.

Travelling off the path and following another large raven, the party met the remainder of the Martikov Family who own the winery.

After explaining the situation, Falkon's uncle Elvir guessed that Falkon had decided to do a quick detour and deal with a hag in Berez.

Elvir invited himself along and only a few hours later mentioned that he couldn't fight but that the party could protect him.

The party made their way into the swamp to rescue Falkon.

This is where we last left off in game and if you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading such a long breakdown of our campaign! If you have any questions feel free to ask and again thank you so much for showing interest and support for our game, it means so much to all of us!

#dnd #Curse of Strahd #ravenloft #strahd #Dnd campaign #dnd character #Silas Shaw #Silas #Benoit #Luci #Lucius Thornhill #dungeons and dragons #dnd art #A MEDAL FOR ANYONE WHO READS THE ENTIRE THING ITS 5K I THINK #I tried to keep is brief but so much has happened #I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

[deanwritings]

Never Let You Go

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Request:

Word Count: 2,609

Gif:

A/N: Just some fluff for your Friday! Big thanks to @deanwinchesterwifesstufff for the adorable request 🥰💍

Dean’s knee taps wildly under the steering wheel as the Impala waits at a red light. If he was someone who chewed his fingernails, he would absolutely be tearing them apart right now as he focuses very hard on trying to keep his breathing steady. 

This was not an emotion Dean was used to. Sure, he usually got nervous before a hunt, but it was the type of nervous he was familiar with, one that helped keep him sharp before taking on the big bad of the week.

But this, this was full on panic. Dean hadn’t felt this type of anxiety since he was cursed with that ghost sickness from years ago. And that almost killed him. But the way his heart is pounding against his ribs, this might too. 

“Uh, Dean?” Your voice rings out and he whips his head to you. “Light’s green.” You point out the window. Dean follows your direction and sees the light has indeed changed, and he completely missed it. 

Without a word he lets his foot fall heavily to the gas, sending you both back into the seats at the sudden momentum. 

“Jesus, Dean you okay?” You brace one hand on the dashboard in front of you with a frown. Dean never hit the gas like that unless you were being chased. Not to mention the man looked paler than a ghost. Something was clearly wrong.

“Fine.” Is all he offers you without letting his eyes leave the road. You continue to stare him down, hoping your targeted gaze would force him to look at you, but he continues to either not see you or ignore you. 

With a deep breath you settle back into your seat as the car returns to a normal speed and turn out the window, a small smile gracing your lips at the passing scenery. You were happy to be back, even if it was for another hunt.  

You were in Colorado, a small town in the northwest corner that you had visited years ago. You had been hunting a Cacus, and after dodging fireballs and decapitating the thing, Dean Winchester decided to finally share his feelings for you. Those three little words you never thought you’d hear coming from the hunter, directed at you. 

Since then, you’ve been nearly inseparable. You moved your things into his room, you had movie nights in the Dean Cave, date nights at the local watering hole where you finally beat him at both darts and pool, and you two just seemed glued to each other’s side, completely unintentional, but like two souls tethered together that could never wander far from the other. 

And when things were good, life was great. It wasn't always perfect, nothing ever was, but no matter how bad things got, you two always came back to each other. And that’s what mattered. Every single time, no matter the argument, or how bad a hunt was, Dean Winchester chose you, and you chose him. 

It was more than most hunters ever got. Sure, some did the whole marriage and family thing, but those were outlying cases. Most ended up in a shallow grave or on top of a pyre. You were just happy to have Dean by your side, and you would take whatever you could with your time with him. 

You had no expectations of marriage or settling down. That wasn’t Dean’s thing, and to be honest, it wasn’t really yours. Once upon a time, a younger version of you would have dreamed of a chance of marrying Dean Winchester, but years of hunting taught you to take what you have and enjoy it, because you never knew if it was going to be stolen away. 

You shake your memories away as you pull up to a motel — no, a cabin — the facade covered in large birch logs and black shutters, and the roof slated sharply at both ends, meeting pointedly at the top. 

You turn to ask Dean what you’re doing here but he’s already out of the car, his door closing softly before he makes his way to the trunk and begins unloading. With another look through the windshield at your unexpected stay, you step out, taking a moment to take in the greenery-filled property, pine trees hiding you away from the rest of the world. 

As you look around, Dean steps up besides you, both of your bags in hand. 

“This isn’t a motel.” You cross your arms at him. His lips part but then he shuts them and shrugs. You didn’t like being surprised. Dean knew that. And he conveniently forgot to tell you that instead of some run-of-the-mill motel, you would be staying in this charming cabin in the middle of the White River National Forest. 

“Ask Sammy. Said somethin’ about the local place having reviews ‘bout bed bugs so he booked this for us instead.” Is all he offers you before he steps onto the porch and places a bag down to enter a code into the keypad lock.

Sam had found a case a few days ago, a suspected demon, based on the local crops and livestock dying. Though he had found the case, he decided to hang back at the bunker, stating his sudden, onset cold would make him more of a liability than a help. 

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but the weight in your stomach was saying something was off. Between Dean’s odd behavior, this cabin, and now you realizing Sam backed out of this hunt, something was definitely going on. You just had no idea what it was. 

After taking in the cabin and unpacking your bag, you head back out into the living room, leaving Dean to finish his very slow unpacking. He had to wait until you were gone. He couldn’t risk you noticing something unusual in his duffle. Then the whole trip would have been for nothing. Not to mention all of Sam’s hard work at faking documents and newspaper clippings. 

It was a hard thing surprising a hunter. Hunters had to always be observing, aware of anything that was amiss, otherwise it could get them killed. So sneaking around and lying was a hard thing to pull off, but so far, Dean had managed. He was in the home stretch now, just a few more hours. 

He peeks through the open door, seeing you in the kitchen, your back to him as you start a pot of complimentary coffee. 

Dean returns to his bag and pulls out the small box, his thumb rubbing over the velvet. He doesn’t open it. He doesn’t need to. He knows exactly what’s inside, and he smiles, his racing heart calming just a bit.

He shouldn’t be nervous. He was never more sure of anything he’s ever done in his life. But when happiness has been stolen away from Dean so many times before, he has to wonder if he’s the common denominator. If by asking you this, he was asking you to sign your life away. 

But you had told him so many times over the years that none of that was true, assured him through his self doubt that he wasn’t to blame, even when he was pretty sure you were lying to make him feel better. 

So he wanted you to have more. You were his everything, and he wanted you to know it. He wasn’t the best with words. “I love you,” didn’t fall from his lips as often as it did from you. And it wasn’t because he didn’t love you, hell, he never knew he could love one person so much, it just wasn’t something he was used to. So he made sure, every damn day, to show you how much he loved you, whether it was cooking your favorite dinner, to holding you tight at night, to making sure you were safe after every hunt. 

And there was no greater way to show just how much he loved you than this. 

Anyone who had known him would have laughed, thinking it was a joke, that the perpetually single, can’t commit to anyone, Dean Winchester was going to propose. But you took away his fears and replaced them with love and comfort. Instead of running for the door, Dean ran head first to you. And he wasn’t going to let you go. 

After you both got settled in, Dean managed to pull you away from the fake research to go with him into town to get groceries and supplies for your stay. He made sure to pick ingredients for your favorite dish and while you were buying wood for the fireplace, he snuck away to the liquor store to buy the best bottle of whiskey they had, neither of you enjoying champagne, even if this moment would call for it. 

Once you got back, Dean nodded and hummed as you shared your plan for the next day over dinner; interviewing witnesses, checking out the fake dead crops and animals, and Dean had to bite back his smile knowing he had successfully tricked you. He was worried you may have started catching on, but you seemed to be status quo. 

Once dinner was done and cleaned up, Dean built a fire in the stone hearth and convinced you to relax with him and put hunting away for the night. 

“There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow.” He falsely reminded you. Tonight, he wanted you to relax and enjoy not being in a motel that was older than the both of you. 

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?” Dean breaks the silence as the two of you cuddled on the couch, watching the flames with Dean’s arm draped around your shoulders, your hand holding his. You shake your head against his chest.

Dean licks his lips and takes a deep breath. This was it.

“Not gonna lie, I was pissed when you first showed up.” You both laugh. That was probably an understatement. “I thought what the hell is this lady doing here and she’s just going to screw everything up and get in the way. Which you did.” He looks down at you pointedly. 

“And then I saved your ass.” You remind him with a cheeky grin. Dean just scoffs, but he knows it’s true.

“Anyway, after it was over, I looked at you and I remember thinking ‘god damn now that’s a woman.’” You laugh again, your fingers tightening around his. 

“I never thought I’d see you again. Figured it was one and done. Besides, I could already tell then you were too good for me.” This time you take in the deep breath, familiar with Dean’s self deprecation. To you, that’s always been his biggest enemy, one you regularly fought so he would finally see the amazing man you saw every single day.  

“But then we ran into you in Alabama, then New Mexico, Indiana, North Carolina. It’s like I couldn’t escape you.” Dean takes a breath. Again, he wasn’t one for words or feelings. But he’s faced Heaven, Hell, and everything in between. He could do this. 

“Every time I saw you, it got harder and harder to say goodbye. And these last few years, well, I couldn’t imagine my life without you by my side, sweetheart.” He smiles down at you, and you return the gesture. 

Dean lets go of your hand and unwraps himself from around you, turning in his seat to face you before taking your hand, your left hand, back in his. 

“We don’t get a lot of good things in this life, but you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’d do everything again, if it means you ending up right here besides me.” In the light of the fire, Dean can see the glossiness in your eyes. You weren’t a crier, so he must be doing a good job. 

“I know I don’t say it much, and I’m not the best at words, but I love you, more than anythin’ in this life. And I’ll take on heaven, hell, and whoever else to make sure you’re safe. Because you mean everything to me.” Dean swallows as his eyes begin to mirror yours. He reaches behind him, sitting up slightly as he reaches into this back pocket, but instead of returning to the couch, his left knee rests against the floor and he pulls the box in front of him. Your eyes go wide and mouth falls open at the movement. 

“So,” he pops the lid open, revealing the gold band and solitaire diamond, the same one his mother wore. “Y/F/N Y/L/N, any chance you wanna marry me?” 

Without a word or a shake of your head, you fling yourself into Dean, toppling him over as you wrap your arms around his neck as you both hit the ground. 

“Christ,” Dean wheezes from your sudden attack. “Is that a yes?” 

“That’s a hell yes.” You beam before you crash your lips to his. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him, not wanting to let go. But after a moment he pulls away, there’s still something he needs to do.

He sits the two of you up, your legs stretching out behind him as you settle onto his lap. He grabs your hand away from his neck, his fingers rubbing along your knuckles before he gently pulls the ring from the box and slides it up your finger.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, bringing your hand to your face. You never imagined a ring would ever be sitting there. Let alone his mother’s ring, and you feel warm tears run down your cheeks. 

“Like it?” You look over to Dean. Though he’s smiling, you know him well enough to see the nervousness in his eyes.

“It’s absolutely perfect.” You assure him quietly, your voice getting caught in your throat. Because not only did Dean Winchester, the world’s most famous bachelor hunter, want to marry you, he was doing it with his mother’s ring, which spoke more words than Dean ever could. 

You cup his cheeks, the cool gold an unfamiliar sensation against his skin, as you lean in and leave a soft kiss against his lips. 

“Wait,” you pull back suddenly, still holding his face, and Dean frowns. “What about the hunt?” 

Dean laughs and shakes his head and your eyes narrow.

“There is no hunt, is there?” There’s a slight edge to your voice, and you realize all those weird things you noticed earlier finally made sense. 

“You tricked me!” You drop your hands and point at him accusingly. He just takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze. 

“For a good reason.” He rubs the ring on your finger, giving it a little wiggle.

You huff, hoping your frown holds up, but you can feel the corners of your lips starting to give away.

“I suppose I can forgive you.” You make a show of shrugging your shoulders, acting like you’re doing him a favor. Dean just rolls his eyes and tsks.

“Well I hope so, cause I got another surprise for you.” You raise your eyebrows at him, and you catch the mischief in his green eyes. 

Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and stands the both of you up. Your legs tighten around his waist and his hands grasp beneath you, giving an extra squeeze as he walks you both to the bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot as the empty velvet box sits discarded in front of the fire.

Forever Tags

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @deansgoddess @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean Winchester fluff #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean x y/n

[justpoliteconversations]

Lavender Armor [Servant!Reader + HW!Link]

There's a set of armor for every battlefield, even those fought with smiles.

This is a fic for this Poll. May the pile continue to grow.

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to tag, but implications of unsavory things. Be warned.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

It wasn't that the maids were neglecting him per say (Princess Zelda would have put a stop to that long ago if so), but you were well aware that they could do better than the minimum. As the Hero of Hyrule, one would think Link would be properly adored and catered to by the castle staff. Admired by the ladies in waiting and sought after by many a noble daughter (and son).

The reality, however, was messier than that.

He had been a low born noble before he'd become a palace knight and then The Hero of Hyrule. As such, by way of blood he was among the lowest ranking even amongst the staff. There were few exceptions to this, and by coincidence or the hand of fate, you were one of them.

You weren't paid much attention as a lowly baron's child, but so long as you kept your head down no one saw reason to disrupt your simple existence. If you were lucky, perhaps a lower cast noble would take notice of your diligence and manners and offer adoption (or marriage).

You'd be given a proper introduction into the upper echelon of society. Introduced to nobles and authorities far above your station. Given a chance to crawl your way from your lowly station to the top of society. Just as you were groomed and trained to do since childhood. The greatest possible future you could achieve given the circumstances of your birth.

And yet. That future had now become unattainable. In the span of one breath to the next, the path to your ruin was set in stone. The higher ups had noticed your diligence, and now, you would be punished for it.

You'd been assigned to be The Hero of Hyrule's, Link's, personal servant. Taken from your (hard earned) position amongst the Princess's staff and tossed down in quiet social suicide to the lowest rung of castle hierarchy.

'The baron's child was put in their place.' Many a maid giggled gleefully behind your back.

'To a socially inept war monger.' They'd gasp in delighted shock.

'Thier days are numbered. Shadows follow close behind the cursed chosen.' They'd whisper in dark corners.

You heard it all. You were no one now. Powerless under the servitude of a man without an ounce of social grace or aptitude. What need have they to fear what you heard whispered from above. Cast so low into destitution as you were.

They misunderstood one thing though.

"Master Link. From this day forward, I will train you to be a proper noble." You'd ordered firmly to the silent man the moment you were out of hearing range. His withdrawn, haggard face had twisted into shock, then confusion.

And then simple acceptance.

You were almost thrown off by such mindless obedience. You'd expected him to put up at least a token effort to assert his place as your superior. He was a military captain after all, and a noble, low born as his blood may be. You expected some resistance. Some pride.

To take orders from a Baron's child. To concede to their command when the whip lay securely in your hand.

You understood right then why this man's name had been thrown upon the sacrificial flame.

It would burn you too, in the end. As a personal servant (a coveted position, once), the ashes of your Master's pyre would fall upon you as well.

"Straighten your back soldier." You demanded, and his eyes widened, uncomprehending and confused. Frightfully young and fearful of threats unknown. "You have set foot onto a battlefield far crueler than anything you've faced before."

He had no comprehension. Not an once of awareness as to the knife's edge that lies silently beneath his feet. A lamb to the slaughter.

The capital would take him, mind and body, piece by piece. No need to swallow whole prey which knows naught how to flee.

"Monsters live freely in the skins of your fellow man. In these walls, their eyes are always watching, Master Link. Seeking weaknesses to exploit." You say, eyes sharp and glinting. The picture of the very monsters you speak of. "They will come in droves, and your sword will be useless to defend against their power."

You narrowed your eyes, features dark as you promised. "In a year's time, Master Link."

"I will have taught you what it means to control the field of battle."

And so, you did.

You taught him how to sit as he should, how to walk as he should. You drilled him on names and titles and the slow, cautious niceties of flattery.

You forced him before the mirror and molded his lips into a faultless smile. Reformed his wide, innocent eyes into glee and charm and every beguiling glance that would have nobles kissing his hands in admiration.

Upon his face you painted great canvases of artistry, made living by the gentle curve of his brow and the subtle shift of his lips. You put the brush and creams and rouge in his hands and taught him how to maintenance his greatest weapon.

You washed and brushed and twisted his hair until it glowed under the dim shine of ballroom light. You dressed him in the glimmering finery of a prince, in regality befitting a king.

Trimmed and groomed and plucked him to perfection, trained and guided and led him to powerful allies. Built him from the ground up, made him into something nobility could admire. And envy.

Brought him tea in the evenings (one sugar, enough milk to drown a calf). Pretended not to notice the extra cake slices he hid under his shield stand. Turned the other way when he fidgeted the end of his scarf while reading (an unsightly habit, as your own tutors would say).

Warmed his bed with hot stones when the heels of his dress shoes brought him low. Braided lavender into his nightly braid to help him sleep. Patted his face with a cool cloth when the summer months drew a profuse sweat from his brow.

Held his hand as he wept bitter, hysterical tears from night terrors so vivid the imprint of them stayed hollowed in his eyes come morning. Told the staff and guards and Princess herself he had taken ill the night before and would need bed rest for the rest of the week.

Bribed the royal doctor. Bribed the chamber maids. Bribed the cooks and the guards and the stable boys until a name came into your possession and Link's stayed out of the mouths of a dozen others.

An execution followed. Three men sent to the gallows for tampering with the Hero of Hyrule's water flask during drills. The intentions unknown but for the way Link had begged privacy for days after. The way he refused to give up his bed sheets for cleaning.

A secret you'd take to the grave, and ensured the laundry maid would take to hers.

His gaze had changed that day, watching those men fall lifeless to the delighted roar of the crowd. Comprehension had followed. The masks of monsters came into clarity as newly unveiled eyes beheld the world anew.

Innocence was lost. But not that strong, wondrous spirit. Link blossomed into something truly magnificent.

A white knight amidst a a flock of vultures. Untouchable. Unreachable. Unattainable.

Unstoppable.

You watched, in awe and pride and quiet humility, as the man who once bowed to your strict instruction now commanded a room of prideful nobles like dogs in a kennel. Stacked them like dominoes and watched them fall over themselves to sit quietly at his feet.

You watched as maids and noblewoman and princesses from many lands swooned as he passed, how the mouths of powerful men loosened when he spoke.

You watched it all, silent and unobtrusively from the sidelines. As the gates of The Sacred Realms themselves opened before his feet as though to welcome home a son. As he stepped through with unhurried dignity, assured in his right.

He had ascended passed his teachings. Beyond what you could offer. Beyond what you could even comprehend.

He had outgrown you in all the ways that mattered.

A year you'd said.

He'd taken 5 months.

You wondered, privately, when he'd discard you. It was to be expected after all, as he had surpassed the indignity of a baron's child's servitude. He would pay you for your service, and if he was charitable, put in a good word and you'd return to your duties as one of the Princess's many servants. It was simply the way things were.

You'd made sure to teach him that.

The night after the announcement of his newly elevated title (the highest a princess can bestow upon her knight), you braided Link's hair (delicate lavender interwoven into shimmering gold) and waited. Waited for the inevitable. Waited to leave this room one final time, to grab your bags (already packed) from your private room and return to your old quarters amongst your peers.

When he reached a hand up to lay upon yours, still laden with lavender, you steadied your heart. Steeled your nerves and kept dry your eyes.

It was to be expected. A baron's child is unworthy to serve as the personal servant of high nobility such as Master Link, The Hero of Hyrule.

"Let me adopt you." He asked calmly, quietly, inevitably, and your world view- shattered.

Your eyes, wide and confused and uncomprehending, met his. And he smiled, soft and slow and innocent (innocent still, after everything. innocence unbroken, for all it had been lost for a time). Trusting, as you've always taught him not to be.

The grip on your hand tightened. "Please." His eyes softened further, and in them you saw yourself reflected back at you.

"I wish to introduce my most trusted ally to the world. My dearest friend."

And you understood that it was not in your interest to refuse.

"I accept. Thank you for this opportunity, Mister Link. I will work hard to meet your expectations."

He laughed, free and open and honest as he interlaced his fingers with yours (sharing the sweet scent of lavender between your joined hands). "Oh. I know you will." His eyes glimmered. "I have no doubt."

And so, you rose. Hand in hand with the man who would be your closest ally. For the rest of your days.

---

Must retreat once more to recharge.

#hyrule warriors #hyrule warriors link #hyrule warriors x reader #give his man an ally #let him have a friend

[broomsick]

I want to learn seidr but idk where to start or what resources are even valid and not tainted by bigotry or transphobia. A lot of posts are very vague, too. So I have no idea what they actually mean. Any thoughts?

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask.

Seiðr is quite the mysterious practice, which is why you must have found difficult to find trustworthy sources, or even one that could clearly define its nature. We currently know very, very little about it. What we do know for sure is that it was a form of pre-Christian magical practice, the uses of which stretched from divination to healing, luck-bringing, controlling weather and making game plentiful (archaeologist Neil Price). It was neither a force of "good" nor one of "evil", as it could also be used to fulfill malicious purposes, such as to cause conflicts or cast curses.

Unlike galdr, which was often practiced by men, seiðr was seen as a rather "feminine" practice. But as always, there have been exceptions to this: after all, mythology has it Óðinn himself, in his eternal search for knowledge, had learned to master seiðr! Though it was considered dishonorable for men to practice it back in Iron Age Scandinavia, it was common enough for a word to describe such men to emerge: seiðmenn. For this reason, neither galdr not seiðr are (or ever have been) confined to specific genders. This, I felt compelled to specify, especially since you've mentionned having stumbled upon many transphobic posts in your research. Galdr and seiðr do not belong to any given gender.

Another difference we could find in modern practice as opposed to historical practice is the means to reach the seiðrkona's staple trance. Archeological finds have informed us that the practice often would have involved trance-inducing intoxicants, which would have enabled the practionner to receive visions and use divination. It's possible for us to recreate such conditions in vastly different ways, namely, using music, chants, repetitive motions and the like.

Now, what's interesting to note is that the Goddess Freyja was also said to be a master of the art. Since she is often thought to be the archetype of a völva, magic practitionners who famously carried a long staff which was crucial to their craft. The term völur actually means "staff carrier", or "wand carrier". This means that to anybody seeking to re-construct this practice, the use of some sort of staff would be near essential.

Though the accounts describing völur and their work are sparse, it's still possible for us to make out a few recurring informations: they were wanderers (and were generally viewed as standing apart from society), which makes them likely to have had some sort of connection with the God Óðinn, and they went from village to village to offer their help and insights. When welcomed into a household, it's very likely they would have been offered to sit at the head of the table, replacing whoever was the head of house in their seat. This means that their presence was considered of the highest respectability. If you're interested in learning more about völur, I suggest checking out the Saga of Erik the Red, which contains the most detailed account of a völva known today.

Another interesting detail to be noted about seiðr is that weaving, whether it was physical or metaphysical, was a central part of the practice. After all, the Norns, who weave the Wyrd, are said to be the greatest of Seiðkonur. Another mythical element to support this theory is that Freyja as a deity seems to share lots of common points with Frigg. In fact, it's very likely the two were worshipped as one deity at some point in time, and depending on the areas. While Freyja is said to be a magician, capable of surviving a pyre thrice, famously, Frigg is more a clairvoyant master of divination, able to foresee the future. And both these different types of witchcraft could very well be considered seiðr practices! Now, Frigg is often depicted weaving using a spindle. That's because her myth has it she is the one who weaves the clouds, and is therefore a talented artist in this domain, which furthers the connection between magic (or at the very least, divination) and the textile arts. It's also interesting to note that the Nornir and Frigg have one major element in common: their ties with fate. While the Nornir weave fate, Frigg knows everything that's to come in the future, though she never speaks a word of it. This particular element of their respective stories greatly emphasizes the imortance of divination and foresight within seiðr practices.

Though I do work with witchcrat, I don't consider myself a practionner of this art per say. That's because oftentimes, the nordic magic I use takes the form of rune-carving, a practice inherent to taufr instead of seiðr. What little information we have on seiðr is unfortunately not enough to determine exactly how it was practiced, apart from the fiew hints here and there. I'm sorry that I can't be of much more help concerning this topic, but I'll link below a few online articles to check out if you're interested in some further reading.

Seidr

Seiðstaffs of the Völur

Encounters with Völur

Manning the High Seat: Seiðr as Self-Making in Contemporary Norse Neopaganisms

The double world: seidr and the problem of Old Norse 'magic'

Norse Magic: Seidr, Shapeshifting, Runes, & More

I will also suggest the book The Norse Sorceress Mind and Materiality in the Viking World and this video, which dive a lot deeper into the topic than I could. The YouTuber Arith Härger, who has multiple times stated his adherence to inclusive heathenry, has posted multiple videos on seiðr in the past, as well.

#magic #heathenry #witchcraft #norse paganism #polytheism #norse polytheism #spirituality #paganism #norse gods #deity work #deities #pagan

[gentleanddamned]

howl:werewolf x black fem!reader

summary: you told a man you would not be his wife and now they have harmed you and seek to set you ablaze. a creature in the woods doesn't like that.

triggers: violence against reader, some resus, slutshaming, piv, blood, so much blood, tetrophilia, cardiophilia, religious extremism, misogyny

minors dni.

you told a man no and the world had left you bloody for it.

you told father ezekiel you did not wish to be his wife so he handed your father and brother a stone and told him to do what God would. when your father would not and your brother could not, he went to the other men of your village.

they would do it.

two held your family back as the others kicked and cut and stoned you for whispering to the devil, for seducing a man of the cloth.

you did not.

they ripped your chemise and would not let your mother pass to cover you for a burning pyre had no use for modesty. you cried out for your family but father ezekiel had harmed them too, bloody hands reaching out for yours

you told a man no and the world would burn you for it.

it hurt to breathe, your heart was kicking in your chest, the blood from your wounds flowed in tandem with each beat. perhaps you would be dead before the first flame licked your skin.

but something else smelled the blood, heard the kicking of your dying heart, saw the semi conscious loved ones you moaned for.

and it howled.

the howl extinguished the good father's torch, not once but three times, an icy wind cut through the village, stealing the light from every fire in every cottage, until only shadow remained.

when the good father finally cursed the fire and decided to finish you with his great knife, he soon discovered his hand had fallen into the snow.

he had no time to scream before his head bounced at your feet, in thanks to the monstrous beast with father ezekiel's torso in it's great mouth.

when the wolf man finished swallowing father ezekiel, he stood to his full height and addressed the crowd that had formed in a frenzy to watch you burn, wiping his sticky red maw and started anew.

you were dowsed in the blood of the crowd as the creature turned the audience into a mountain of snapped limbs, the same fingers that threw stones at you bent back and severed.

the wolf would have continued had he not heard you cry in pain behind him.

the last thing your family, the few of your village left breathing, saw was the mighty wolf take you into his powerful arms and run.

you were too cold, too bloody, too far from his home to heal you but the monster would not, could not let you go and beneath the moonlight, he laid you up on the forest floor, a gargantuan paw wiping the blood trickling from your pretty mouth.

to bring you warmth quickly, he gently as a church mouse entered you only to thrust his weighty cock inside you, pumping and pumping into your pussy, a tender moan of pleasure and relief as warmth and wetness ran though your broken body.

but warmth was not enough when the kicking of your heart came to a stop and with a panicked roar he slid his massive cock from your warmed yet horrifying still body.

his paws met your chest and with a growl he began to push down, awkward at first until the wolf found his rhythm, pumping your precious mortal heart, guttural sounds emitting from his mouth ordering the darkness to bring you back to him. something cracked within you but the wolf would not stop until he had to.

and when he had to, a howl of mourning pierced the sky and rang in the chest of your mother and father.

his attempt at a second grieving wail was interrupted by the mortal beneath him, a pained gasp of air released from your lips, your chest rising and falling, slowly but surely, the kick of your heart felt beneath his claws.

you were too weak to manage much more than a shaking hand on his furry cheek but it was enough, he understood.

once upon a time, you told a man you did not wish to marry him.

he did not know you were already married.

open for requests, thank you for reading :)

#werewolf x reader #monster x reader #monster romance #monster fucker #original writing

[two-white-butterflies]

i want your heart | am. targaryen

Description: A vampire falls in love with a woman of science. The people of town burn her at the stake after a world-changing breakthrough.

Warning: Teen [mild angst]

Pairing: vampire!aemond-targaryen/doctor!reader

Author's Note: A bit inspired by @shruie and Castlevania (i haven't watched the series, just clips on tiktok)

(February 22, 1692.)

"Magic and medicine have always worked side-by-side," you cooed, combing through his platinum hair with adoration. He has loved you shorter than he's been alive - yet he swears that he cannot remember life before you.

"- but sleep and work have never happened side-by-side," he reminded, removing the book from your slender fingers. The light of the candle seems to illuminate his face perfectly. "You don't hear me complaining when you are engrossed in those novels," you pout - attempting to take the book off his hands.

"And mayhaps you should care more too." he raised an eyebrow, placing the book flatly on the table beside him. "I do! But I respect your use of time," you argue, hovering over him and reaching for the book on his side. He pulls your body down - lips merely centimeters away from each other.

A groan escapes his mouth - utterly enamored by your beauty. No other human or vampire has ever made him feel the same. You were different - you made him feel alive. "I propose something," he breathed - trailing his finger up your back.

"What?" you raise an eyebrow.

"A proper use of our time." he smiled - pulling your face closer and bridging your lips together.

To him - survival was never staying in the same place. Survival was roaming the world without end, shaking the hunters off his scent - and finally returning to his proper home. You.

"How long will you be gone this time?" you inquire, tracing your fingers on his bare chest. "A few months," he answered - placing a soft kiss to your forehead. "- I will long for you." he added, burying his face on your lavender scented hair.

"I can leave with you," you offer, pulling away from the embrace - and staring deep into his lavender eyes. "No. It will be too difficult." he asserted firmly - not wanting any harm to befall his beloved.

"As everything is meant to be." you smile, holding onto his forearm. "Not for you," he responded - placing another kiss at the top of your head. Fearing that it would be the last time you'd see each other.

"I love you then," you profess. "I love you most." he answers, lifting his cloak and whispering his final goodbyes.

If only you knew what was about to happen.

You yawn slowly - wiping the beads of sweat away from your forehead. "Holy fuck," you curse.

You've been working on this medicine for your entire life - everything you did was utterly dedicated to it.

And everything was making sense.

It was the light in the end of the tunnel.

The cure to peripneumonia - delivered to you on a silver plate.

When the village learnt about your discovery - they were quick to dismiss you - to call you names such as harlot and witch. But when the cure began to actually work - they called you the whore of satan.

A girl given by the devil to deliver others into evil.

"Burn the witch!" they screamed while tying you to a post. A tear trickles down your face - creating a soft line on your cheeks. "Burn the Bride of Satan!" the people you saved screamed - igniting the flames of your doom. "Don't," you whispered - shaking your head and staring at the sky.

Do not blame them father.

One of the priests began praying for your soul - holding his hands over the pyre as the scalding heat began to melt your skin.

What was Aemond going to do without you?

He always prided himself in being able to feel you - no matter how far you were - but for the past months he hasn't been able to.

"Welcome back, my lord." the man greeted, holding his boat steady as he began to dock.

He looked coldly at the fields in front of him. "Where is she?" he questioned - eyes searching for yours. The man lowers his head - removing his cap slowly. "S-she was punished, my lord. She is a witch." the man cursed - believing the words to be true.

He clenches his jaw.

Anger floods through his veins - he raises his hand, slowly draining the life out of the lowly servant.

How dare they.

(June 19, 2023)

Vampires were cursed to live forever - to walk as empty shells of who they previously were - never allowed to die. Only creatures with souls can die - and vampires didn't have that. Aemond raises his hood - prepared to fight against a monster hunter.

How long has it been since he's felt alive?

Three hundred and thirty one years since he's seen you.

He raged hellfire upon the town that killed you - slaying each and every one of the citizens - not caring if they were young or old, women or men, human or not. Their ignorance has led them to doom - and he was more than willing to execute them. He reaches for the lighter on the side, placing it loudly on the counter.

"Is that all?" you chew your gum, and he freezes at the familiar voice. "(Your Name)?" he hummed, lifting his hood slowly and gazing upon your face. "Yes, is that all?" you type on the keypad - assuming that he was reading your nameplate. "Y-yes." he answered.

A ghost of a smile is painted on his face.

He was finally alive again.

@nyctophilic0vitnir @bellstwd @pearlstiare @glame @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #the one eyed prince #prince aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targayren fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd smut #hotd angst #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fiction