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pottersolos · 3 months

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pinky promise ? • Joe Burrow.

summary : joe knows his fiancé, charleigh had a rough day so he try’s to make it better.

warnings : idk.

pairing : fiance!joeburrow x fiance!jizaiah

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“babe !” i shouted through joe and i’s shared house, i had just finished my skincare and was about to brush my teeth but i didn’t know where joe had put our toothpaste.

“yes ?” i could hear his foot steps on the stairs as he walked up them, i met him in the doorway before speaking, “where’d you put the toothpaste ?”

“it’s in the draw” he said, he could tell by the look on my face that my day had been hell, he grabbed my hand dragging me into the bathroom with him, he opened the draw and grabbed the tube out.

he propped up his phone-knowing i like to get moments like this on record-and engulfed me in a tight hug, kissing my wet hair as my arms snaked around his shirtless torso, my head resting on his chest.

his hand begun stroking my head as i rested my eyes, i felt his hand stop on the back of my neck, gently moving my head to look up at him “you okay ?” he question, i nodded my head, sending him a flatlipped smile.

“i ordered chick-fil-a it should be here soon” said joe, i looked up at him and kissed his cheek.

“how ‘bout you get a movie ready in the living room and i go to the store, and i promise i’ll be right back” he smiled at me, i nodded and grabbed one of his hands and held it as we walked down the stairs.

he slid on his tazman uggs and grabbed the keys off the counter, he opened the door, he was standing in the frame and i stuck to the side of the door holding the knob.

“be fast please” i begged, “i will” joe said and placed a passionate kiss on my lips, i wrapped my hands around his neck and hung on to him, not wanting him to leave. “baby i’ll be right back” he pulled away from the kiss.

i let go of him and he walked to the car, i closed the front door and walked into our living room, clicking through peacock before settling on my personal favorite, harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban.

i paused it before it could even start, scrolling through my phone as i waited for joe to come back home. i got bored so i decide to get out the book i’ve been reading.-hunting adeline by H.D Carlton-i relaxed into the corner of the couch, flipping the pages as i read through them.

when the food arrived i grabbed it, thanked and tipped the man before going back into the living room, i set the food down and waited for joe to come back home.

this week has just not been my week, earlier this week joe and i had gotten into an argument, he did something i didn’t like with jagger, my son, when we were fighting i called jagger “my son” and let’s just say joe didn’t like that, but he understood after everything jag has been through he knows i’m overprotective of him.

tonight jagger was with my mom and stepfather, they wanted to see him, i don’t let him go off a lot without me for a few reasons, one he’s only four, two i’m overprotective, three i can’t trust anyone with him.

sooner or later joe came back, he walked in with a basket full of my favorite snacks, a sprite, and some roses, i slightly smiled and got up to go over to him.

before i could even get around the couch he was already at me, putting his long legs to use, “here, these are for you, mama” he kissed my head and sat down i sat beside him cuddling into him.

“i’m sorry” i told him, he sent me a confused look but this is something i need to talk to him about.

“for what baby ?”

“the other day, you know how i am with jag, and i don’t want you to just leave or hurt hi-hurt us” i sat up straight and looked at him trying to read his body language.

“i wouldn’t be here if i planned on hurting either one of y’all, there wouldn’t be a ring on your finger if i planned on leaving, it just hurt a little hearing you call him your son as if i don’t do anything for him” he said his face becoming unreadable.

“i’m sorry” my eyes met his once again before he pulled my head to his chest, he stood up, still holding me and sat in the corner of the couch, i cuddled into his side even more.

“i love you charleigh” his index finger arched under my chin and lifted my head to his view.

“promise ?” i asked him.

“i pinky promise” he stuck his pinky out and interlinked it with my own, i smiled and kissed his cheek, for the rest of the night we sat there, sitting right next to each other, my head rested on his shoulder, watching the movie, eating, and talking every now and then.

“one last thing then we can put this away, okay ?” i said to him, he nodded and put his full attention on me. “do you want to adopt jagger ?” i questioned him, my eyes brimming with tears at the thought.

joe was speechless, his eyes also starting to tear up, i didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing “if you don’t want to it’s fine” i fidgeted with my fingers looking down at my bare feet.

his hand grabbed onto my foot as he began to speak “no. i want to, i wouldn’t want nothing else” the tears in both of our eyes finally falling, i wiped his cheeks as he wiped mine, laughing a little before pulling his head in and placing my lips to his.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow angst #joe burrow one shot #joe burrow imagine #burr baskets #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow one shots #joe burrow headcannons #joey burrow #joey b #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc #joe and char

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notelcol · 2 months

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Loss.

TW: murder, death

A tragic Wriothesley story.

Mildly edited, apologies for mistakes🫶

——-

You had been married to Wriothesley for quite some time. You both met in the Fortress when you were serving time. When Wriothesley decided to take over administration and become the Duke, you thought he was mad. But as your sentence drew closer to an end, the more you didn’t want to leave. He truly was making the Fortress a better place, and anywhere he was, was where you wanted to be. So when the time came, you decided to stay down in the Fortress with him. You took a job in the cafeteria and the two of you began your new life together with the promise of forever. For years the Fortress of Meropide ran in perfect harmony; or at least as close to that as a prison could get. But that all changed when a new group of inmates arrived. Usually people are quite rowdy and aggressive when they first arrive, but they soon settle down once they get into a routine and learn that this place was safe. This group however, seemed to escalate every day. It began as simple peacocking, trying to prove they weren’t to be messed with. But by the end of their first month the were mugging other inmates for coupons and leaving them in the infirmary for days. The ring leader was a man called Jon, he was particularly angry at the world and unfortunately a very large, strong man. Recently there had been a rumour that he was planning something against Wriothesley in an attempt to take over the prison. The very idea put a chill up your spine.

You had just finished clearing up after the cafeterias closing time at lights out. You made sure to lock up all the utensils and cutlery, as per your safety mandate, before heading off to have tea with your husband in his office. The Fortress was quiet and dark, your footsteps echoing through the expanse. It was always eerie at lights out. You stood in the elevator waiting for the door to close, when you heard heavy hurried footsteps racing towards you. The door started to close but they managed to bust in at the last second. You let out a scream, their dramatic entrance gave you quite the shock.

“Which way is this elevator set to go?!” The lady grabbed your shoulders as she frantically shouted. You recognised her as Lourvine, one of Wriothesley’s researchers.

“Down.” You answered her slowly while trying to take a step back from her. “I’m on my way to the Duke’s office.” Your words caused Lourvine to curse before pressing the ‘shut down’ button on the elevator.

“Hey!” You furrowed your brows. “What are you doing?!” You looked at her incredulously.

“You are in danger.” The serious look on her face made you afraid. You nodded for her to continue.

“Jon and his men are waiting for you down there. I expect they have a few men at the entrance above too, just in case.” You took in her words carefully and swallowed nervously before speaking.

“So what do you propose we do?” You asked her, hoping she had an idea. But instead of confidently laying out a plan, she sighed and admitted the worst.

“I don’t know. I had planned to catch you before you got on and hide you somewhere…now my only plan is to stay in the elevator until the Duke gets concerned and comes looking.” Lourvine suddenly looked less serious and more like the terrified young woman that she was.

You had been sitting in the shut down elevator for a few minutes, each second felt more excruciating than the last. You and Lourvine sat in silence, the only sound was two thumping hearts. That was when the clanging began. It started quietly, in the distance, but it seemed to get closer and louder until it became a thump on the roof of the elevator. You looked to Lourvine, both your eyes shook in fear. Then the roof panel was removed and the perpetrator dropped in. You prayed to every archon that it was Wriothesley. But the moment you saw the scuffed brown shoes you knew your hoped were dashed. The sneering face of Jon made you and Lourvine jump to your feet. She immediately pushed you behind her and your eyes began to well up. Not because you were terrified, which you were, but because of how Lourvine was so loyal to you and your husband that she would put her life on the line to keep you safe.

“I’ve been waiting for you. You’re certainly a slippery aren’t you.” He looked past Lourvine and straight into your eyes.

“I won’t let you hurt her!” She was determined to keep you alive.

“Now, now little bird. Get out of my way or I’ll have to clip your wings.” He spoke venomously. Lourvine stood her ground and did not even flinch when he stroked her cheek. You knew she was scared, you could feel her shaking violently as she held you behind her. Jon sighed before pulling out a gun. Where did he get that?! You barely had time to process before the shot rang out and Lourvine dropped like a sack of sunsettias. Horror filled your face as you fell to her side. Jon didn’t give you the chance to comfort her in her final moments, instead he grabbed your hair and pulled you up to him and away from her. He grinned at you and held the gun to your head. You closed your eyes and thought of your life. You always imagined you would die of old age, hand in hand with Wriothesley. Your future was being stolen from you. No more late night teas gossiping about the inmates. No more watching him and Sigewinne’s beautiful friendship. No more anything. Your spiralling thoughts were interrupted by another thud on the elevator roof.

“Get away from her.” The familiar voice of your husband relaxed you a minuscule amount. You used Jons momentary distraction to duck your head away from the gun and try to get closer to Wriothesley. BANG! Another shot rang out, but you reached Wriothesley’s arms so that didn’t matter to you. He pushed you behind him, making you think of Lourvine. Your heart cracked a little more as you thought of her bravery tonight. The pain almost felt real. Wait. It was real. You were bleeding. You looked at the back of Wriothesley’s head, wanting to take in his silhouette one last time. He was arguing with Jon, but their words had little sound as you dropped to the ground. Your husband gasped and instantly crouched to hold your face, the other taking your hand. As much as you wanted to spend your last breath holding his hand, your dropped it to shakily point behind him. Jon was smiling maniacally, pointing the gun at Wriothesley. It was muffled but you could hear him shouting at the Duke to face him. A growl left your husband as he slowly turned around. The rage of losing a dear and loyal friend, and possibly his beloved wife started to take over. The corners of your vision began to fade as you watched Wriothesley grab Jons shooting arm. You were happy to spend your last moments looking at your love. You imagined him holding you close to his chest like you knew in your heart he wished he could do. The struggle in front of became a dark blur as you closed your eyes, fading away to the sound of a final shot

When you awoke, it was cold. You squinted at the bright lights of the infirmary. Sigewinne was instantly at your side, leaving you wondering why your husband wasn’t the one greeting you. You shot up, resulting in your would feeling like it was going to tear open. Sigewinne gently shushed your groans and helped you lay back down.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” Her voice could always soothe you. Once your pain had subsided you nervously asked her the burning question.

“Where is Wriothesley?” You watched as Sigewinne’s gaze moved to the floor.

“The Duke…he was supposed to wait for Clorinde to come back him up. But he couldn’t wait for her. By the time she arrived….” Sigewinne stopped. She needed to collect herself before continuing. “When Clorinde arrived, she got there too late. Lourvine was dead, you were unconscious and Wriothesley was taking on Jon alone.” Sigewinne’s eyes returned to your own. “Her entry into the elevator caused Jon to panic and shoot. Wriothesley…is dead.” And just like that, you wished you had never woken up.

——-

Thank you for reading 🌹

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slycooperconfessions · 3 months

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"Bentley's plans are quite frankly insane when you take a step back to look at them; Pulling down a large peacock sign over a nightclub to destroy a fountain, flooding a spice production facility, launching high-speed trains into prison walls, destroying ferris wheels, using windmill blades as shuriken to destroy blimps, outsmarting a seasoned pirate captain by taming a kraken, just to name a few. This turtle is an absolute mad lad, and a force of nature."

Confessed by: Anonymous

"That was real subtle, Bentley." -Sly, to this absolute mad lad.

#Sly Cooper #Bentley #Gaming #Confessions

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linguisticdiscovery · 7 months

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Ways English borrowed words from Latin

Latin has been influencing English since before English existed!

Here’s a non-exhaustive list of ways that English got vocabulary from Latin:

early Latin influence on the Germanic tribes: The Germanic tribes borrowed words from the Romans while still in continental Europe, before coming to England.

camp, wall, pit, street, mile, cheap, mint, wine, cheese, pillow, cup, linen, line, pepper, butter, onion, chalk, copper, dragon, peacock, pipe, bishop

Roman occupation of England: The Celts borrowed words from the Romans when the Romans invaded England, and the Anglo-Saxons later borrowed those Latin words from the Celts.

port, tower, -chester / -caster / -cester (place name suffix), mount

Christianization of the Anglo-Saxons: Roman missionaries to England converted the Anglo-Saxons to Christianity and brought Latin with them.

altar, angel, anthem, candle, disciple, litany, martyr, mass, noon, nun, offer, organ, palm, relic, rule, shrine, temple, tunic, cap, sock, purple, chest, mat, sack, school, master, fever, circle, talent

Norman Conquest: The Norman French invaded England in 1066 under William the Conqueror, making Norman French the language of the state. Many words were borrowed from French, which had evolved out of Latin.

noble, servant, messenger, feast, story, government, state, empire, royal, authority, tyrant, court, council, parliament, assembly, record, tax, subject, public, liberty, office, warden, peer, sir, madam, mistress, slave, religion, confession, prayer, lesson, novice, creator, saint, miracle, faith, temptation, charity, pity, obedience, justice, equity, judgment, plea, bill, panel, evidence, proof, sentence, award, fine, prison, punishment, plead, blame, arrest, judge, banish, property, arson, heir, defense, army, navy, peace, enemy, battle, combat, banner, havoc, fashion, robe, button, boots, luxury, blue, brown, jewel, crystal, taste, toast, cream, sugar, salad, lettuce, herb, mustard, cinnamon, nutmeg, roast, boil, stew, fry, curtain, couch, screen, lamp, blanket, dance, music, labor, fool, sculpture, beauty, color, image, tone, poet, romance, title, story, pen, chapter, medicine, pain, stomach, plague, poison

The Renaissance: The intense focus on writings from classical antiquity during the Renaissance led to the borrowing of numerous words directly from Latin.

atmosphere, disability, halo, agile, appropriate, expensive, external, habitual, impersonal, adapt, alienate, benefit, consolidate, disregard, erupt, exist, extinguish, harass, meditate

The Scientific Revolution: The need for new technical and scientific terms led to many neoclassical compounds formed from Classical Greek and Latin elements, or new uses of Latin prefixes.

automobile, transcontinental, transformer, prehistoric, preview, prequel, subtitle, deflate, component, data, experiment, formula, nucleus, ratio, structure

Not to mention most borrowings from other Romance languages, such as Spanish or Italian, which also evolved from Latin.

Further Reading: A history of the English language (Baugh & Cable)

#Latin #etymology #linguistics #language #history #borrowing #lingblr #langblr

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ckret2 · 9 months

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Super totally normal things happening in Gravity Falls today.

Just. Incredibly normal.

Chapter 13 of Human Bill Is The Mystery Shack's Prisoner And Mabel Has Decided To Be Nice To Him, featuring: medical marvels being used for stupid reasons. You can read the previous chapters here!

####

"... So there you have it," Pacifica said, running a gloved hand through her hair and gracing the country club members with a pristine plastic smile. "You too can have a full, beautiful head of hair in seconds."

The watching country club members clapped politely. Mabel slyly peeked at the woman next to her and tried to copy her Fancy Clap, patting one hand's fingertips on the other palm.

Dipper didn't clap. He'd been staring out a floor-to-ceiling window, making direct eye contact with an albino peacock, for the last five minutes. When he moved his head, so did the peacock. A bead of sweat dripped from Dipper's hairline. The peacock's gaze followed its progress down his cheek.

The assistant who'd just massaged Hairy Fairy lotion into Pacifica's hair carefully stoppered the bottle, delicately wiped it clean with a golden handkerchief, threw the handkerchief away, and handed the bottle to Pacifica so she could hold it out to the crowd. Pacifica said, "And it only takes a couple of drops to give you a full head of hair, so this little bottle will keep you looking beautiful for years. Using it all at once would make you look like Rapunzel."

Mabel gasped softly. "I want to look like Rapunzel."

Dipper dragged his gaze away from the peacock and whispered, "Do you want it enough to spend ten thousand dollars on it?"

She considered this. "Yes," she said. "Think about it, Dipper. I could make it into a rope, and then: grappling hair."

Dipper pictured Mabel firing her grappling hook and losing her head when she ran out of "rope," and shuddered. "Hey." He elbowed Mabel and pointed at the assistant. "Is it just me, or is he a little overdressed for June?"

The assistant was covered from his feet to his forehead. Nothing stood out too much about a man in a suit in the kind of country club Pacifica visited—he didn't look like a member, but he sure looked like a member's servant—but whenever he stood at an angle that gave a glimpse up his sleeve, it was clear his gloves went far further up his arm than was typical. What was really strange was the silk bandana covering the bottom half of his face, like a Wild West bandit's butler, and the designer sunglasses shaped a bit too much like goggles.

"Yeah, you're right," Mabel said. "In the commercial yesterday, the person who did Pacifica's hair looked like they were in a hazmat suit. Do you think...?"

"But Pacifica doesn't have any protection at all," Dipper said. "If it was dangerous, they probably wouldn't have hired her and risked her family suing, would they?"

"Maybe her 'modeling gig' was getting cloned. And this is Pacifica's clone stunt double for the beauty industry to test its products on!" (The woman standing next to Mabel gave her a worried look.)

The Hairy Fairy spokesman who'd presented Pacifica—a thin man with a too-big mustache and a suit that matched Pacifica's hair—stepped forward to take over the presentation again. "Wasn't that magical, folks? That's exactly why we call this stuff 'Hairy Fairy'—because it's like something out of a fairy tale!" The spokesman laughed; several country club members joined in. "And definitely not because of any other reason. Now, are there any questions—no, no questions?" The spokesman pointedly ignored the raised hand of the woman next to Mabel. "Then who's interested in placing orders today? You can order later, of course, but we have a limited stock and it's going fast—if you're intrigued, you do not want to miss out on this exclusive opportunity to buy a bottle without having to compete with the common masses. Maybe you sir, with the receding hairline? How about you, ma'am—having second thoughts about that bob cut...?"

Her job done, Pacifica had started edging away from the front of the room. She caught sight of Dipper and Mabel and tilted her head toward a nearby hallway.

The twins quietly slipped from the crowd and followed her. Dipper looked at the albino peacock, pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at it, and left.

The peacock fanned its tail threateningly.

####

"So—funny thing," Pacifica said, leading Dipper and Mabel into a wood-paneled and Persian-rugged locker room. Several boxes of Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula were stacked against a wall, in hopes the club members would make some purchases. "I asked my manager why the Hairy Fairy commercial was airing in Gravity Falls, of all places, and get this: our marketing campaign is targeting communities whose population of over-65-year-old men has a high enough average net worth to afford our prices. Ultra rich balding old dudes. And Old Man McGucket has made so much money selling his patents that he's raised the average worth of the entire town's elderly male population. So, basically, the commercial's running for his benefit!"

Dipper laughed. "Whoa, seriously? If he wanted a hair growth formula, he could probably invent one in his bath tub with motor oil."

"I know, right?"

"This is the fanciest locker room I've ever seen," Mabel said. "All the lockers are made out of real wood!" She pulled open a locker that hadn't been properly shut. "Wow. Adult golf clubs."

"Oh, yeah," Pacifica said. "Most country clubs have golf. There's a full 19-hole course outside."

Dipper frowned. "Isn't golf usually 18 holes?"

"This is the rich people's country club. They go the extra mile here."

Mabel stood on one of the velvet-cushioned benches between two rows of lockers to give herself enough height to experimentally swing a club. "I've never played adult golf before."

"I play here from time to time, when my parents bring me along to network with their colleagues' offspring. I could let you in sometime if you want."

"That sounds great!" Mabel punctuated the exclamation with a full swing of the club. It hit the ceiling. She stared in horror at the long scratch she'd left in the wood, then started sheepishly practicing more modest swings, acting like nothing had happened. "Is adult golf better than mini-golf?"

Pacifica paused. "No. It's super boring."

"Aww."

"But coming here is more fun with friends," Pacifica said. "Thanks for, um, showing up to watch my demonstration, by the way. And for... trying to dress up." Dipper had paired his usual t-shirt, vest, backpack, and trapper hat with a nice dressy pair of slacks. Mabel had knit a sweater covered in dollar signs. "Don't tell anyone, but I was actually kind of nervous about doing it live, in case something went wrong? Having you guys there really helped. I knew I had to look perfect in front of the normal people in the audience."

Mabel groaned lightheartedly. "Pacificaaa! You got so close to saying something sweet and spoiled it at the last moment."

"I knowww. Being too sincere still feels weird. I had to water it down."

Dipper said, "Hold on. Before we say anything else: I need you to prove you're you and not some kind of clone. Tell me something only the original Pacifica would know."

Pacifica raised a brow. "Seriously? I'm like a minor celebrity, who would clone me?"

"You'd be surprised, Pacifica." Dipper adopted that squinty-eyed look and mysterious voice that he thought made him look like a worldly adventurer. "You'd be surprised."

"Okay, uh..." She sighed huffily. "The first time you played Bloodcraft, you got so mad at me for trying to get you into the armor shop to upgrade your embarrassing newb gear, because there was a dragon attacking the town."

Dipper grimaced. "I didn't know that going into a building cancels a combat encounter, okay! I've played games where the enemy follows you through the next loading screen, I did not want to fight a dragon in an armor shop."

Pacifica laughed. "You were like, 'Are you just gonna let him burn down the town,' waving around your little tutorial-level handgun. As if the dragon didn't have twenty levels on you—"

"Okay, okay, got it. I believe you. You're Pacifica."

"It's really polite of the dragon to wait outside while you're shopping," Mabel said. She put on a fake deep dragon voice: "'You two find some cute clothes; I'll just be out here breathing... FIRE!'" Her next swing collided with a chandelier, smashing a couple of bulbs. Mabel jumped off the bench to stuff the golf club back in its bag and slam the locker shut. "That... wasn't polite of me."

Pacifica opened her mouth. Dipper cut in before she had a chance to speak: "Okay, before my sister gets us kicked out for destroying the ceiling: we did come here for a reason."

"Right!" Mabel put on her Serious Face and focused on Pacifica. "Could we get a little of that hair stuff?"

"No," Pacifica said flatly. "I said you could come to watch my demonstration, and that's it."

"Pleeease?" Mabel begged, hands clasped together. "Just a tiny bit? It's really important. I have this friend—" She paused. "That's the wrong word. Not a friend, more like an enemy—an enemy that I'm trying to be nice to—? It's complicated, I'm not making any sense—"

Pacifica said, "Hey. You don't have to explain. I'm a popular mean girl. You just described, like, every single one of my friendships."

Mabel went on, "But anyway, he got this awful haircut and it is ruining his life and I need this stuff to fix it."

Pacifica put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Listen. I empathize, really. But I can't just hand this stuff out, even to friends. I'm not even saying that to be a jerk, I will literally get in so much trouble if I give this stuff away."

"Even just a few drops?" Mabel pled.

"They would measure it. I'm not kidding!" Pacifica started pacing. "You have no idea what this company is like. Hairy Fairy's formula is crazy controlled, down to the last drop. Even I don't get free samples. There's a limited supply—something about the active ingredient going extinct? Anyway, they only have a few thousand bottles total and stock's going fast."

(As Pacifica spoke, wrapped up in her monologue, Mabel realized she could mosey behind her and rummage through one of the boxes without Pacifica noticing. Dipper watched and said nothing.)

"Besides, it's not something for public consumption," Pacifica went on. "There's super specific application techniques, it's got to be handed over to a trained hairdresser to apply, I can't even tell you everything about the handling techniques because just to get hired on as their model I had to sign like a mountain of non-disclosure agreements—"

(Mabel retrieved a bottle, pulled out the glass stopper, and rubbed it against the palm of her right hand so she could sniff the fragrance.)

"So, like, even if I did let you take some home, you'd probably apply it wrong anyway and it wouldn't do you any good—"

"Uhhh, Pacifica? Dipper?" There was a note of suppressed panic in Mabel's voice. "Why do I look like Grunkle Ford?"

Pacifica whipped around so fast her hair smacked Dipper's face. All three of them gaped at Mabel's right hand, which had just sprouted a sixth finger.

And then, as they watched, the finger extended—and developed into a full second hand sprouting off the same wrist.

Mabel opened her mouth to shriek. Pacifica clapped a hand over it. "Be quiet, you'll get us in trouble!" she hissed. "See this is why professionals need to apply it!"

Horrified, Dipper asked, "Wait—you knew?"

"Uh, yeah? Why do you think they made me sign an NDA just to help advertise the stuff?"

"But—hold on—it can do this? And it's being sold to grow hair? If it can grow limbs, it could revolutionize medicine! It can heal injuries, reverse amputations, produce donor organs—!"

Pacifica shrugged. "Yeah, but the beauty industry paid better, sooo..."

Mabel tapped Pacifica's arm with her double hand. Pacifica shuddered and jerked her hand off Mabel's face. "Ew."

"Dipper," Mabel said, eyes wide. "Imagine all the cool new shadow puppets I could do!"

Dipper stared at Mabel. "I'm glad you're taking this well."

To Pacifica, Mabel said, "Is this why everyone who touches the stuff is covered in hazmat gear?"

"Yes," Pacifica snapped.

"But you're not! What's protecting you from getting mutated?!"

"Nothing! The first time we tried to film the commercial, I tilted my head at the wrong moment and grew a third ear," Pacifica said. "The danger is the whole reason they hired me: I am super good at staying calm while getting hazardous cosmetic procedures. My mom taught me to never show weakness in front of somebody I'm paying to alter my appearance." She cast a nervous glance toward the locker room door. "And now I'll get in so much trouble for letting you find out—and you're gonna get in trouble just for knowing—"

"Wh—us?" Dipper said. "Why us?"

"You literally just stole product. There's hundreds of dollars of lotion on Mabel's hand right now—"

"Don't worry about it!" Mabel put the bottle back in the box where she'd found it and clumsily closed it up. "We'll just sneak out and nobody will know anything happened!" She took off her sweater and wrapped it around her hands like a muffler. "Ta-da! What do you think!"

Pacifica grimaced, and looked at Dipper.

He shrugged. "Do you like the thought of losing your job better?"

####

"Hey, Mrs. Le Mónjelo," Pacifica said, smiling politely. "Hi, Mr. And Mrs. Oilbaron, good to see you... Hi there, senator, I haven't seen you since your fundraiser dinner—oh you bought some formula? That's awesome, I know you've got portraits for campaign season coming up soon..."

Trailing a step behind Pacifica with Mabel, Dipper leaned forward and hissed in her ear, "And you don't think you should warn any of them about—?"

Pacifica elbowed him hard. "I signed an NDA," she hissed. "Besides, as long as they read the instructions and let a hairdresser do it, they'll be fine."

"Pacifica!" A woman with red lips and redder hair stopped in front of them, smiling widely. "I haven't seen you here since the badminton club disbanded, what a pleasure."

"Oh hey, Mrs...." Pacifica blinked, drawing a blank. "Uhh..."

"Who are your little friends, here? I don't think I know them." The woman focused on Dipper and Mabel. "Do your parents ever come here? How do you know Pacifica?"

"Oh no," Pacifica said, "they're from California, they're just visiting. Their great uncles, um... own a startup... in the tourism industry."

"Oh, I see," the woman said, disapproval in her voice. "New money. Well, you'll grow into your wealth. It's good to be exposed to it from childhood, I always say. It's a pleasure to meet you." She reached past Pacifica to grab and shake Dipper's hand, then reached for Mabel—

Mabel jerked back, turning her hands away from the woman. "Aaahahah I can't do that! Sorry!"

The woman blinked at Mabel in bewilderment. "W—?"

"Because," Mabel said. "Because—I'm a hand model! Gotta keep the ol' moneymakers pristine!" She shook her dollar-sign-covered "muffler" demonstratively. "Yeah, me and Pacifica met through modeling."

"Oh," the woman said, now looking suitably impressed. "Do you protect them all the time? What remarkable dedication to your craft. Have I seen any of your work anywhere?"

"Uh, yeah," Mabel said, "did you catch the... two page spread in the... spring issue of... Diamond Rings Monthly... For Teens?"

"We should get going," Pacifica said, shooting Mabel a glare. "We don't want to miss your... finger yoga class."

Dipper buried his face in his hands.

"Right! Finger yoga! Can't miss it!" Mabel skipped toward the door. "Nice meeting you, ma'am!"

"A pleasure," the woman said, then mused to herself, "I don't think I've picked up that issue yet."

Outside the country club, an albino peacock glared balefully at Dipper through the wrought iron fence around the property. Mabel glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then unwrapped her sweater, made a mocking three-handed finger-peacock, and blew a raspberry. The peacock let out an offended honk.

"Thanks for covering for me," Pacifica said. "And sorry about your hand. Hands. I can call my mom's plastic surgeon to get that fixed, he's super discreet—"

"No no, it's okay," Dipper said. "Don't worry about it."

Struggling to pull her sweater back on over her double hand, Mabel said, "We know this Hand Witch, she'd be thrilled to take a donation."

Frowning, Pacifica silently mouthed hand witch.

"Buuut," Mabel said, "if you want to make it up to us, maaaybe you can get us a few drops of that stuff—?"

"What?! After all that, you still—" Pacifica stomped a foot. "No, absolutely not! And if anything, covering for me is the least you could do after wasting some product and risking me getting in trouble when they figure out the bottle's off! You don't get it! I can't afford to endanger this job! I have a family to support!"

Mabel and Dipper stared at Pacifica. They exchanged a look.

Mabel said, "Pacifica, you are thirteen."

"What the heck are you talking about," Dipper asked.

Pacifica stared at them, mouth open, face going red. "I—That—I'll—" She groaned. "I'll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret."

They both nodded.

Pacifica whipped out her phone. "I'm texting you an address. Meet me here after seven."

Dipper and Mabel leaned over Mabel's phone together. "That's kind of out of town, isn't it?" Dipper said.

Mabel said, "We can take the long way back from the Hand Witch's cave."

Dipper and Mabel waved bye to Pacifica as they walked off—at which point Mabel realized she could move all ten of her right fingers independently, and she trailed behind Dipper, distracted by making her fingers roll like a wave.

####

Ford said, "All right, what are you up to?"

Bill looked toward the living room doorway. He was sitting on the sofa, watching a Russian-language romcom, with a bowl filled with hard cider and colorful marshmallow cereal. He'd stuck a neon green straw that had been curled into the word "Queen" in the cider-cereal. "Do you mean the movie or my lunch?"

"I meant Mabel. Don't think I haven't noticed that you're trying to recruit her as your newest minion."

Bill rolled his eye. (Ford wasn't sure if his other eye was still glued shut by paint and makeup—the majority of Mabel's makeover had flaked off—or if Bill had just gotten into the habit of keeping it shut.) "Minion's such a strong word, Stanford! She wants me to feel comfortable here. I appreciate that and I accepted her help."

"And I don't suppose you've been taking advantage of her generosity to manipulate her into doing your wicked work, have you."

"If by 'manipulate' you mean 'telling her what would make me comfortable when she asked,' then I suppose I have." Bill scoffed. "When did you get so paranoid?" He took a sip from his boozy cereal.

"Around the time I learned the monster I thought was my friend was trying to destroy my dimension."

"Well, I have no idea who you're talking about, but he sounds like a real piece of work."

"And it's not paranoia when it's about someone who warrants that much distrust," Ford said. "Now tell me what you're up to with my niece."

Bill scoffed again. "If I were 'up to' something, I wouldn't tell you. And if I was innocent, you wouldn't trust me even if I told you the truth. So why are you asking me what Mabel's doing instead of her?"

Ford's scowl deepened; but he said, "You're right," and trudged off.

"There, see?" Bill called after Ford. "You didn't actually want information from me. You just wanted a confrontation! If you're looking for a little verbal fencing, we could be doing it over chess."

"Not on your life, Cipher."

"Checkers?" he suggested. "Parcheesi? DD&MD? Go Fish? Candy Kingdom? Oui-Oui Spirit Board?"

Ford didn't reply.

Bill shrugged and settled back in his seat.

Ford trudged back. "All right." He gestured impatiently at the TV. "Is this broadcasting from Russia?"

"Sharp as ever, Ford."

"How the devil are you picking it up from here?"

Bill's grin widened. "Want me to show you?"

Ford contemplated the slippery slope of allowing Bill to share his knowledge with him again, said, "No," and trudged off.

Bill was right—there was no reason for Ford to ask Bill what he had Mabel doing rather than asking Mabel herself, except that he'd wanted to talk to Bill. He was frustrated. Since the day they'd locked Bill in the Mystery Shack, Ford had spent every waking moment poring over all the old notes he'd kept during his interdimensional travels, every scrap of research he'd accumulated on Bill that he hadn't burned at the end of last summer, all the data he'd recorded on the portal to the Nightmare Realm and the rifts around Gravity Falls it had left behind, looking for something he'd missed that could explain why Bill was back and what it would take to get rid of him for good.

But so far he'd found nothing. Not a hint. And part of him felt like if he could just face Bill down again, have it out with him, that some stuck gear in his head would finally shake loose—

Obviously, that was stupid.

This morning, Stan had pointed out how exhausted Ford looked. He'd told Ford he wasn't about to kill the triangle if he worked himself to death first. He'd said Ford needed somebody helping him. Stan couldn't help—not considering the kinds of advanced sciences he'd need to master just to enter a conversation on destroying something like Bill Cipher—but he was right that Ford couldn't do this in isolation. Here Ford was trying to futilely provoke Bill into giving something away; what more proof did he need that he was at the end of his rope?

When Soos had finished with the latest tourist group and led them into the gift shop, Ford waved him over from the other side of the room. "'Scuse me, folks," Soos said, with a wink, "it looks like one of our professional paranormal investigators might have something mysterious for me to check out."

(Ford glanced down at himself. He supposed he did look like some sort of mysterious investigator of oddities. Which he was, but knowing he looked like one felt kind of cool.)

Soos went on, "So you guys check out the merch and I'll be right back. We've got a sale on postcards!"

A woman with a fanny pack asked, "Does that investigator have six fingers?" Several tourists murmured appreciatively.

Soos tried to think of an answer that avoided framing Ford like he was part of the Mystery Shack's freak show, said, "No," and left.

"Sorry to bother you at work," Ford said. "I need to borrow your cell phone to text Mabel."

"Oh, sure dude." He fished it out and handed it over. "Is something going on?" His gaze drifted toward the "Employees Only" door to the living room. He didn't need to mention Bill.

"Hopefully not, but that's what I'm trying to find out." He went silent for a moment so he could focus on typing on the glassy keyboard.

There. He exited the conversation with Mabel and offered the phone back to Soos, but not before noticing one of Soos's recent conversations was with Fiddleford. "You and Melody go over to Fiddleford's from time to time, don't you? To... watch foreign cinema?"

"Oh—yeah, dude! We've been introducing him to the anime classics! He's gotten surprisingly passionate over Neon Crisis Revelations. Like—really passionate. I think we might have to retire mecha anime for a while," Soos said. "Sometimes Tate watches, too. Not every week, but... they're working on it. We, uh—actually kinda wanted to ask if you might want to come, sometime? When you're not working on the... 'Goldilocks' project? I get it if you're too busy or just not interested or whatever, but you seem like the kind of nerd who'd be really into anime. No offense. I meant it as a compliment, actually—most people consider an accusation of liking anime to be pejorative, but I think it speaks well to their tastes—"

"Soos." Ford offered him a small smile. "I was actually trying to figure out how to politely ask for an invitation."

"Oh. Phew! Mutually awkward social encounter: successfully navigated!" Soos held up a hand. "Up top!"

Ford high-sixed him. He appreciated having the little social successes celebrated. "Let me know if Mabel texts back, would you?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Pines!" Soos flashed Ford a thumbs up as he left the gift shop.

"'The Goldilocks project'?"

Soos started. "Oh! Wendy! Wow, I uh... totally forgot you were like... right there."

"Yup." She had her elbow propped next to the cash register and her chin in her hand. "Five days a week."

"Right. Right." Soos tugged his collar. "It's... it's nothing. But it's secret. But it's no big deal."

Wendy blinked at him. "Right."

"Right." Soos gestured vaguely at the tourists moseying around the gift shop. "I, uh, I should... bye."

Wendy watched him go, frowning.

Whatever "crisis" had happened on the first day of summer, it wasn't over. Something was wrong. She felt it every time she was at work, every time Dipper and Mabel made up an excuse to hang with Wendy away from the shack, and every time the Stans ventured into the Mystery Shack to draw Soos aside for a quick conversation. She felt it in her bones. Which seemed like something her dad would probably say, very loudly, so she hated feeling things in her bones.

It probably wasn't her business. Okay. Fine. Sure. Pines family stuff. She was just an employee/family friend, she didn't need to know all about their personal lives.

But—her gaze drifted toward the "Employees Only" door—much more of this, and she might have to start snooping anyway.

####

(Hi! Author here! I appreciate hearing what y'all think and what y'all enjoyed! Thanks! Next chapter and the conclusion of the Hairy Fairy plot arc coming this time next week!)

#mabel pines #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #(for the art)#(also they're the main characters this chapter and next)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #(for the overall fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #bill goldilocks cipher #my writing #my art

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1v31182m5 · 1 year

Text

Shen as a Snow Leopard and Tai as a Peacock

I wasn’t satisfied with Tai’s look and it was better in my head so I had to do a few more. Shen was looking straight up gorgeous from bottom to top already

Peacock!Tai escaping the prison also his additional tail which I failed to show in the previous other two but you know I had to show that part man it’s like this animal’s signature

#Kung fu panda #Kung fu panda 2 #kfp #kfp 2 #kfp fanart #kung fu panda fanart #tai lung #lord shen

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thewritetofreespeech · 4 months

Note

Could I request Vanitas with an s/o who inherited her father's family's ability to transform into a bird? Everyone transforms into a different bird; S/O is a crow, her father is a peacock, her uncle's a robin, and so on.

He was trying to get some sleep when he heard the peaking at the window. Vanitas rolled over, then glared, before he got up & opened the window. If it had been any other bird, he would have thrown his shoe at it (glass be damned) and gone back to sleep. But he knew those eyes, and that purple shade on its breast meant that it was no ordinary bird. “Couldn’t you just come to the front door like everyone else?”

The crow let out a ‘kaw’ then flew in to land on the floor. A dark shadow enveloping it before fading away to reveal a beautiful woman. “Come in through the front door? In this traffic?”

Vanitas scoffed and shuffled off to his bed again. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just hadn’t seen you in a while.” She told him.

“Whose fault is that?”

It might have been a little mean, but he wasn’t the one who was constantly called away.

Being of an old, noble vampire family, [Y/N] already had their commitments to society. Coupled with their strength and inherited technique from their family, Oiseaux d'une Plume, they rose in rank and became a valuable member of the vampire court. That’s how they met. On one of the more hospitable meetings with Lord Ruthven and his much more abiding nephew.

“I can’t exactly say no when asked to do a job, Vanitas. We would see each other even less if I was in prison for treason.”

“I know. I know.” Vanitas replied. His hand coming up to his face. “It’s just frustrating sometimes that you’re on their beck and call.”

“Or rather beak and call.” She snickered at her own joke and Vanitas had to smile a little at that. “I’m here now though. Do you really want to fight?”

“No. I guess not.” He agreed and got ready for bed again, with [Y/N] by his side. “Tell me a story.”

“What are you, 6?” [Y/N] asked, glancing up at him from her position on his chest, but still smiled as she tucked herself back in. “Have I ever told you about my second cousin Antwane?” Vanitas shook his head. “Well, he was a nice young man. Got the short end of the stick on the family ability though. His bird was a chicken. They’re actually really smart birds, but no one knows that because they spend some much time eating them. One time, while he was transformed, someone mistook him for a plain old farmer’s chicken and tried to catch him to put him in a stew. Poor Antwane refused to transform for months after that because he was terrified someone would catch him and turn him into Coq Au Vin or something. Anyway….”

Vanitas listened to the story as he drifted off to sleep. He dreamt about what bird he would want to be if he had that ability. How it would be to fly. What it would be like to be truly free for a change.

When he woke up [Y/N] was gone. Literally flown the coop with a note of ‘urgent business. I will see you soon’. But maybe birds weren’t all that free either.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#vanitas of the blue moon #vanitas #vanitas no carte imagine #vanitas no carte scenarios #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas x reader #vanitas no carte x reader #imagine #scenarios #female reader

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shotmrmiller · 26 days

Note

I am back, both ghosts can't handle eye contact when playing in the sheets it ruins everything, this is brought to you by nothing I had a dream and needed to share it.~ local pocket dragon might write domestic ghost au someday not today but like holler if you want what I have so far.

both ghosts as in what 09 and reboot? wait what they just go softer than dirt once eye contact is made? lmaoooo

domestic househusband ghost that is this ragged, gross man littered with scars on his arms ranging from silver to knotted pink and he seriously looks like he's gonna kill someone but in reality he's just waiting for the school bus to drop his kid off.

ghost who couldn't (still can't) cook for shit but his kid likes the prison slop he makes and he preens like a peacock when his kid's like yummy.

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choicesmaychallenge24 · 3 days

Text

MAY 2024 PROMPTS

Have fun! Take liberties! Be weird!

Playlist Inspo

SPOTIFY || YOUTUBE

Deity Inspo

(extensive list of Dieties can be found here)

Zeus

Power, Oak tree, unfaithful

"Statistically, you've got better chances being struck by lightning"

Hera

Marriage, revenge, peacock

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"

Poseidon

Ocean, earthquakes, horses

"stormy eyes"

Demeter

Wheat fields, middle child, poppy

"...moods that changed like the weather"

Apollo

Harp, medicine, prophesy

"...like they were the sun"

Artemis

Wilderness, moon, archery

"lets go lesbians, lets go!"

Ares

War, strength, hated

"Don't be a boar"

Athena

Wisdom, strategy, owl

"You're giving me a headache"

Hephaestus

Inventive, disability, overlooked

"...Like a volcano about to erupt"

Aphrodite

Pearls, swan, passion

"You know ___ is an aphrodisiac"

Hermes

Guide, messages, travel

"That's just an eloquent way of saying, 'fuck you.'"

Hestia

Home comforts, Eldest Daughter problems, gentle

"Sometimes a family is (insert found family here)"

Dionysus

Wine, celebration, mania

"I heard it though the grapevine..."

Nyx

Mysterious, rest, starlight

"Goodnight, My Love"

Hades

Rich, death, responsibility

"who's a good puppy?"

Quotes

"You wish to be considered righteous, but not to act with justice." (Eumenides)

"Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish." (The Bacchae)

"Isn’t it delightful to forget how old we are?" (The Bacchae)

"I was born to join in love, not hate - that is my nature" (Antigone)

“I have no love for a friend who loves in words alone.” (Antigone)

“Have you ever been struck by a sudden desire for - soup?” (The Frogs)

Dionysus [doing everything wrong], "Like that?" (The Frogs)

“If you try to cure evil with evil, you will add more pain to your fate.” (Ajax)

“Which would you choose if you could: pleasure for yourself despite your friends, or a share in their grief?” (Ajax)

“I ask this one thing: let me go mad in my own way.” (Electra)

"Oh, it is easy for the one who stands outside the prison-wall of pain to exhort and teach the one who suffers” (Prometheus Bound)

“In childbirth grief begins.” (Medea)

"I'll take care of you."

"it's rotten work."

"Not to me. Not if it's you." (Euripides)

“Love, stealing with grace into the heart you wish to destroy, love, turning us blind with the bitter poison of desire, love come not my way. And when you whirl through the streets, wild steps to unchained rhythms, love, I pray you, brush not against me, love, I beg you, pass me by.” (The Love of the Nightingale)

“There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.” (The Odyssey)

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.” (The Odyssey)

FASHION INSPO

From Dolce & Gabbana

STORY INSPO

Many of these stories have different tellings and variations, embrace whichever version you most enjoy.

Echo and Narcissus (painting) (story)

Pandora's Box (painting) (story)

Arachne (painting) (story)

Hades and Persephone (painting) (story)

The Gorgon Medusa (painting) (story)

Cygnus (painting) (story)

Theseus, Ariadne, and the Minotaur (painting) (story)

Daedalus and Icarus (painting) (story)

Eros and Psyche (sculpture) (story)

Orpheus and Euydice (painting) (story)

Myth of Sisyphus (painting) (story)

Cassandra (painting) (story)

The Fates (painting) (story)

Atlas (sculpture) (story)

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wickedholl0w · 8 months

Text

An eternal bond pt.2

Part 1 👇

Fandom: Baldurs Gate 3

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader

Rating: 16+

Summary:

Continuation of the one-shot An eternal bond.

In this story we see a little more of your pregnancy where you carry Astarion's baby, after his ascension.

From memories of a hot bath, to the vampire's troubled mind, separation and reunion after years apart.

Notes:

If you liked the first one, give a chance to this one. :D

warnings: mature content, unprotected sex, pregnancy, a lot of angst, fluffly?, bittersweet, labor, murder mind.

P.S: English is not my first language, I apologize in advance if I make any mistakes.

************************************************************************

As much as you wanted to deny it, the luxury of Astarion's palace was undoubtedly very good, even if you were restricted to the room with Scratch and the cub, even though the boredom was sometimes so great that you felt like running away... But, the luxury prison would soon disappear from your life, after all, your strength was regained, your baby was well and strong, growing, and you already knew very well how to deal with a pregnancy that was somewhat different than the usual one.

Sometimes he kicked nonstop, moved a lot during the night which always led you to take a hot bath while singing songs to make him calm down, and that night was one of those nights.

Sitting in the bathtub with your back against the edge, you hum a lullaby while caressing your rounded belly. The baby liked that, the hot bath, the cuddles and the song, which made you happy.

“Gods, don't you ever get out of the bathtub?” Astarion says standing at the bathroom door and you look towards him, surprised to see him covered in blood.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Nothing much, just a spawn that was being a bit...” he says, approaching while opening his red jacket embroidered with golden peacocks. “Rebel. So, he had to be used as an example for the others...”

“I don't want to know details,” you say, covering your belly with your arms and the baby father's red eyes hover over there. “He is calming down now, hearing one of your cruelties will not be beneficial.”

Astarion raises his eyebrows and clicks his tongue in an irritated manner.

“I imagine,” he says, taking off his leather boots. “Our little one should not be exposed to violence and in this,” he turns to you as he pulls down his pants, leaving him completely naked. “I completely agree, my dear.”

You look straight at Astarion's flaccid member, it didn't do any justice to its glorious form when hard.

“And what makes you think I'm going to allow you to come in here?” you ask, looking at him from under your eyelashes and Astarion gives a slight seductive smile, one that makes all your organs melt.

“I don't need your permission, my dear” he says, walking towards you, climbing the three steps to reach the edge of the large bathtub. “I command here.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he bends down and sits right in front of you.

“Besides, I must enjoy your company and our little devil while I can, after all, I don't know how long I'll have you here” he says, running his wet hands through his white hair, combing the curls back.

You swallow dryly as you see his gaze staring into nothing, his face and hair still stained with the rebellious spawn's blood. You take a deep breath and take a bowl, fill it with water and approach Astarion who looks at you from the corner of his eye with a suggestive smile on his beautiful lips.

“Turn around” you say and he lets out a low laugh, turning his back to you.

You fill the bowl with water and then wet the white curls, causing the blood that painted it red to run down Astarion's shoulders and back. You take the scented soap and soap your hands and then start massaging the vampire's hair, who lets out a kind of hoarse purr of pleasure and leans his head back further.

You smile and slide your hands over the back of his neck, massaging the area and you can feel him smile, you slide your hands to his broad shoulders, massaging there and Astarion lets out a groan and leans back, resting his back against you,supporting his head on your shoulder and turns his face touching his nose to your jaw.

“This way I'm going to keep you here forever” he says in a sensual purr and you give a small sideways smile.

“You can try” you respond in a light tone of voice, but without hiding the threat.

Astarion laughs and then brushes his cold lips against your skin and you arch your eyebrow and push him forward. He protests, but you refill the bowl with water and begin rinsing his pale hair until there is no trace of suds or blood left.

“Okay, clean now, you can leave” you say, moving away and leaning your back against the edge of the bathtub.

The Vampire Lord looks at you over his shoulder, a vile, sensual smile on the corner of his handsome lips. He turns to you and crawls towards you.

“My intentions go beyond leaving my beautiful body clean again” he says, reaching your knees that were together and holding your thighs with his cold hands, squeezing them lightly and placing a kiss on each knee.

“I thought we agreed we weren't going to do this anymore” you say as he slowly separates your knees.

“Yes, after we had sex seven times” he says, kissing the inside of your thigh.

You feel your body heat up, your skin and nipples rise, your breasts begin to feel heavy and your breathing becomes unregulated, but most importantly, the baby had become quiet since Astarion's presence in the bathtub.

“And I'm not even counting the repeated times” he says in a low, hoarse voice, his mouth approaches your belly, gives a cold, long kiss there and moves up between your breasts, bringing his body closer to yours.

You sigh deeply, taking your hands to Astarion's shoulders, whose cold kisses go up to your neck and you turn your face away. The vampire gently takes your earlobe between his teeth and licks it.

“Even if you want to deny it, my love,” he says opening a wide smile. “You are mine; you will always be mine...”

The weight of his body against yours, his breath on your neck, his smell... You want to resist, but you can't, you grab his face between your hands and give him a kiss that borders on desperation, reciprocated in the same intensity way by the man who slides his hand down your right thigh, lifting your leg, making you place your foot on his back.

Yes, you wanted to deny it, completely, you told yourself over and over again, you ran away, but you couldn't deny the desire for him, the desire to be his.

***

Astarion was sitting in a luxurious dark wooden chair with red velvet upholstery, behind him the huge window that overlooked Baldurs Gate and the large, full, blue moon in the sky. The bluish light enters through the large window and illuminates the dark room, illuminating the woman lying on the bed dressed in his own simple white tunic.

The Vampire Lord's eyes shine like burning rubies with his face partially hidden in darkness, his hand resting on his jaw and his fingers covering his mouth. He watches her sleep, so beautiful, so serene, so... Vulnerable.

He gets up from the chair and slowly approaches the bed, his eyes never leaving his prey for a second. Astarion stops at the side of the bed, tilts his head to the side like a true predator analyzing its prey. He could seize the opportunity, could sink his teeth into her soft, fragrant skin and suck the last hour of her life away.

The only thought about this was so powerful in his mind that he reached out his claw-shaped hand towards her neck, but the woman moved on the bed, lying with her back against the mattress, her face facing the other side and the Lord's red eyes go to the belly marked in the fabric of the tunic.

The child had grown well, so much so that since the day the mother arrived there, her belly had almost doubled in size... He had to admit that listening to the rapid heartbeat of that insignificantly sized being was a delight and if he killed his mother, even if he transformed her to bind she to him forever, the child would not be able to survive and would die in the womb.

Astarion obscured the growls and grunts of the two animals that were hers, his eyes seeing that they were in an attack position, ready to defend their master to the death, but with just one threatening look the two lay down surrendered.

He looks at her again, at her beautiful face, something inside him seemed to scream, scratch a wall begging for her, to abandon everything and be with her, but Astarion had already come very far in his conquests, with his powers, he wouldn't give up everything for no one.

You had noticed him approaching that night, you felt his cold and murderous gaze on your skin, you knew you ended up barely staying alive and after he left the room to solve problems related to the new rebellious spawns, you saw the opportunity to scape, you grabbed your things and supplements and leave with your two companions.

On the way to your freedom you heard screams of pain and terror, but you didn't want to approach the place and find out, or what, Astarion was doing with his new spanws. You knew you couldn't stop walking until you left Baldurs Gate, you knew you had to keep going as long as you could and like that until the sun came up.

Astarion didn't show up, he didn't follow you, he didn't do anything, maybe he hated you more than anything, but it didn't matter, what mattered was that you were okay and needed to find a home for yourself, your son and your animals.

You searched for months, but villages and towns didn't seem safe, until one day while making your way through an isolated forest you found an abandoned hut filled with ravines in the middle of a clearing. It wasn't the best place, but a village was a few minutes away, you could survive on agriculture and have farm animals, the house definitely needed renovation, but nothing you couldn't do yourself.

There were difficult weeks, storms, scorching suns and hard work, with the little money you had left managed to hire a carpenter who helped with the final renovations and even had the good heart to make the crib and furniture for the baby's room at no cost.

And it was just in time for everything to be ready for you to go into labor, alone, sitting on the floor of the house's small kitchen, with a storm of lightning and thunder outside, the only ones with you were Scratch and the cub, who watch yours suffering with pain. Hours of excruciating pain, contractions, fear, exhaustion... but it was all worth it when your little boy was born and you picked him up, you quickly tied and cut the umbilical cord and wrapped him in a warm cloth placing him against your chest. You managed to expel the placenta without difficulty and to your surprise the owl bear cub ate it, and even looked at you with pride after the act, which made you laugh even in the midst of the postpartum pain.

You looked at the blood-stained baby in your arms, calm, peaceful, his eyes had just opened and swollen in a dark bluish tone, and his hair... Well, the few he had were almost transparent, white, like his father's.

You hadn't thought of a name amidst all the turbulent chaos during the pregnancy, but, looking at the healthy boy in your arms who soon began to breastfeed, you had no doubt what his name would be:

“Welcome home, Astarion.”

You say with a sweet smile on your lips and tears falling down your sweaty and flushed face, your animal companions slowly approached to watch the little dhampir that grabbed your finger while sucking hungrily.

A small miracle from the darkness.

***

Your son had turned seven years old, a happy, energetic, sometimes chaotic boy, who already understood that he was not like other children and had been instructed from an early age to keep his race a secret, for his own sake and to prevent this spread information. Not that his father didn't know where they were, Astarion was there a few years ago, when the little one was just two and a half years old. He didn't get closer, he didn't try to make contact, he just stood looking from afar and sometimes when you close your eyes you can see the scene of him standing at the edge of the clearing, his hand partially stretched towards you and the boy, the pained look he wanted shout I love you, no matter how much you doubt it.

Since then, all you received from the Ascended Vampire Lord was money, a lot of money, which wasn't bad, quite the contrary, you managed to make improvements to your home, your property, even hire employees to take care of your few plantations that they helped support the household. Everything was going well, but not everything.

Your son, Astarion, was starting to show signs that he wasn't comfortable drinking your blood, which he had been doing since the little fangs grew in his gums. Every time you offered him your wrist to take, the boy looked at you with remorse, guilt, until there was no other alternative than to teach him how to hunt animals to satisfy his thirst for blood.

Always in the company of the big owl bear and old Scratch, Astarion quickly learned to hunt, so much so that at the age of 10 you no longer had to worry about him going alone, because in addition, you made sure to train him from an early age with weapons, bows, hand-to-hand combat and he was an excellent student.

He was fine, the "vegetarian" diet was doing him good, human food was also satisfying him more, and that was what mattered.

“What's he like?” Astarion asks while eating at the dinner table.

It wasn't the first time he asked about his father.

“You look like him,” you say. “In fact, it's almost a perfect copy.”

“Why almost?” the boy asks with his mouth full and you laugh.

“Your skin color is like mine, the color of your eyes too, but the rest... It's totally him.”

Astarion raises his pale eyebrows and nods.

“And you loved him?” he asks with a childish innocence that breaks your heart.

“Yes.”

“And he loved you?” the boy's eyes shine with expectation, one that you need to break, unfortunately.

“One day, yes, but I'm not sure,” you respond, making the sparkle in your son's eyes gradually disappear and he looks at the plate, chewing slowly. “But what matters is that he gave me my greatest treasure.”

He looks at you, eyes shining again.

“Me?” he asks and you smile widely, get up from the chair and go to the boy, grab his face between your hands and give him several kisses on the face, making him laugh, you turn his face to yours.

“Absolutely, you.”

Astarion opens a wide smile and hugs you, filling your face with kisses and jumping into your lap, making you laugh and hug him tightly.

You never regretted your choice to leave the castle that night, not when your son is your most beautiful and purest existence in this world.

The boy had gone to sleep and you took the opportunity to take care of the dirty dishes and cleaning the kitchen and then you would take a well-deserved bath after a hard day's work, yes, that was the ideia, until you felt a threatening presence next to you. Outside, you hears the heavy footsteps of the owl bear who makes the security at your priority, you knows that old Scratch is already sleeping next to Astarion, otherwise he would have already barked a warning.

You waste no time, you go to your room and grab two short swords, whatever was out there you were going to kill and make the person regret even thinking for a second that it could threaten you and your child.

You open the front door and go outside, you see the big owl bear standing in an attack position looking at the intruder and when you stop next to the huge animal you get a surprise that you certainly didn't expect.

The woman, who looked completely crazy, wore a thin red dress, tight to her body with beautiful curves, black hair and red eyes that shine in the darkness like liquid fire, and her pale skin betrays that this woman is not a totally living being.

“What do you want?” you ask threateningly.

“Your head” the woman replies.

“Mommy?” Astarion says at the door of the house, sleepy and wearing pajamas, old Scratch beside him. “What is happening?”

“Go inside, now” you order without taking your eyes off the enemy.

“Ah, the one I came to look for” the vampire says, looking at your son with eyes filled with madness.

“Inside now, Astarion!” you scream again.

“But I want to see you hit her!” the boy retorts.

The vampire laughs at the boy's speech.

“She won't even be able to get close to me” she says looking at you who gives you a mocking smile.

“For a little dog on a leash, you're being quite bold” you say and the vampire shows her teeth, getting into an attack position. “Bear, protect Astarion and the house.”

The great animal obeys your command.

The bloodthirsty vampire puts out claws, they look like blades and advances against you, your magic flows through your body and through the blades, an energy that has not passed through your body for many years, you smile at the sensation and receive the blow from the rival. No problem, you soon retaliate and she is surprised by your skill, you begin an arduous fight with exchanges of blows, sparks fly through the air due to the meeting of the steel of your swords with the opponent's claws.

“Get her, mom!” Astarion shouts motivating her.

The opponent takes a swing to move away from you, away, she looks at you panting, teeth exposed, furious look.

“You are not worthy!” she shouts and you raise your eyebrow. “I will take your head off, take it to my master and take his heir to home!”

You give a small smile.

“Dream on” you say, sticking the tips of your swords into the ground, which for the vampire was a good opportunity, but it was nothing more than a trap when she advanced against you again with claws and teeth ready to tear your flesh.

Her mistake.

You conjure a huge ball of fire, cast the spell and throw it at the creature that had no chance if it even touched you and turned into a piece of burning coal on the ground.

“Wow...” your son says impressed.

You take your swords back and when you were about to turn around to go back to your house you see another vampire, a man with a human and common appearance if it weren't for the features that betrayed his true nature. He is standing at the edge of the clearing, mouth open as he holds a large bag of what you know to be gold, in fact, you recognize the vampire: Alec, Astarion's most faithful spawn and responsible for watching over you and your son.

“Tell your Master that we are leaving and that he will never find us again” you say and Alex lowers his head as a sign. He soon disappears into the darkness.

You then run towards your house, towards your son.

“Quickly, let's pack our things!” you say and the boy quickly enters, pulling Scratch with him.

You don't have time, you pack everything you can quickly, Astarion changes quickly and you also put on your old clothes from your adventure times. You blow out the candles in the house, placing it in eternal darkness, the next step would be to release the animals and then left as far away as possible.

You walk out the door with your backpacks full and ready to go, but you stop suddenly, your son behind you grabbing your arm.

“Well, not even going to invite me in and you're just going to leave?” Astarion says with a evil smile on his lips.

You swallow hard, pushing your son further behind you protectively.

“We need to talk, love.”

Your heart jumps out of your chest, a doubt between attacking and surrendering, but you have one certainty and that is keeping your son safe.

#fanfic #oneshot #smut #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion art #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion

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fulcrumwrites · 2 months

Text

Speaking is a Privilege

Summary: A prince is taken captive by a rival kingdom. The enemy king attempts to make the prisoner of war his slave, but the prince refuses to break. Luckily, he has an arsenal of tools at his disposal. The prince will soon learn his place.

CW: Medieval torture, scold’s bridle, POW, dehumanization, slavery, humiliation, brief sexist idealism from the villain

He’s a pompous brat, seethed Cor as he glared up at his enemy.

He didn’t choose to be on his knees before that ridiculous throne on a raised pedestal and that pathetic excuse of a king draped upon it. The man didn’t even sit upright and regal, deserving of his title and honor. Instead, his knees dangled over the arm, swinging in the air, with his back braced against the other arm. A goblet of wine swirled in one hand while the other picked from a gold plate of treats; the very image of aloof laziness. It was a mockery to monarchy… Ha, mockery monarchy. Okay, his brain had definitely rotted in that cell.

He didn’t choose to be kneeling before the throne, filthy and weak in chains compared to the exaggerated wealth surrounding them. No, he’d much rather be relaxing in the cold, wet dungeon, which was what he was doing before he was so rudely dragged from his cell before the brat and had his knees kicked out beneath him.

And now he had to entertain his captor’s outlandish fantasies. It’s as if he had some delusion that just because Cor was his prisoner of war, he could make him do whatever he wanted. Good thing Cor was here to set him straight.

“No.”

King Darius leaned forward, cupping a hand around his ear. “Please speak up. I can’t hear you all the way down there.”

Cor licked his chapped lips, scowling. “I said no.”

King Darius balked and placed an offended hand on his chest, like they didn’t play this game a thousand times before. “I beg your pardon. Did you just tell your king no?”

“You heard me. And you’re not my king.”

“So long as you reside in my lands I am.”

Cor rolled his eyes. ‘Reside’, he says. As if he wasn’t a prisoner and could leave anytime he wished.

King Darius dropped his legs and sat up properly. Finally. He brushed the crumbs from his lavish clothes made from the finest textiles and with bright colors that clashed so badly it made Cor’s eyes ache.

He stood and marched down the steps, looking exactly like a proud peacock. He stopped so that Cor was at his feet, peering down at him over his squashed nose. Though Cor could not stand without the guards knocking him down again, he refused to be meek and returned his gaze with his own steely glare.

King Darius threw back his head and laughed. Anger boiled in Cor’s gut as he willed himself not to tackle his enemy. They danced to this song too. Many. Times. Darius would make some ridiculous demand, Cor would be defiant and, instead of lashing out in anger, Darius would laugh in his face and force him to do it anyway. It was exhausting to be so stubborn and yet so powerless. A captive prince was nothing more than a slave in the hands of his enemy.

Still chuckling, Darius fisted Cor’s dark hair at the roots and dragged him to his feet. The manacles around his wrists clinked as Cor instinctively clawed at the hand pulling his hair. A guard stepped forward, but was halted by Darius’ dismissive wave.

“You may be weary of this game, Cor, but I’m not.” The king’s breath was hot on his skin. He jerked him by his hair once, twice. Unbidden tears pooled in his eyes. Cor furiously blinked them away. “In fact, I find your obstinance amusing. No slave would dare treat his master this way, and yet you continue to do so even though you know I hold all the cards. It’s truly a marvel you can keep this up for as long as you have.”

Cor gritted his teeth. “I’m not your slave.”

Darius released his hair and gently patted the spot as if he were a child or a dog. “Believe it however long you’d like, Cor. It has no effect on reality.”

Darius walked off to the left. Cor watched him with suspicion. He stayed standing under his own power, the granite tiles cold beneath his bare feet. Darius approached a silent servant carrying a wooden box. His neutral expression betrayed nothing to Cor.

“You know how this ends, Cor,” the king continued as he opened the lid. “You defy me, and I get what I want anyway because I am king and you are my prisoner.”

He carefully lifted the contents out. It was a twisted shape made entirely out of metal, like a birdcage only the bottom was missing. A short chain dangled from it. Darius turned it in his hands, nodding approvingly.

“As we speak, the palace is scrambling to finish preparing for the feast I demanded. We all have a role to play, and yours is to be at my side: a symbol of my coming victory over your kingdom. I originally planned for you to be chained to my throne merely by your cuffs so you could sit or stand as you please. Now I realize I can’t have you ruining the pleasure of my guests.”

Cor swallowed, throat suddenly dry by more than just a lack of water. “What the hell is that?”

Darius tore his eyes away from the contraption, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. “What, your country doesn’t use scold’s bridles? How very primitive. What do you do when women nag?” Darius shook his head. “It’s a device that locks over one’s head. This piece of metal right here slides inside the mouth, effectively silencing the wearer. This little chain is a handy thing to pull the wearer along or attach them to a wall for all to ogle. Makes a woman think twice about running her mouth.”

Darius laughed again. Cor didn’t see the humor in it. In his father’s kingdom, women were always treated with respect and dignity. Such a punishment was unheard of. As if his hatred for Darius and his kingdom couldn’t run deeper…

Cor was trembling with anger as the king approached him. If he could think through the white hot rage, he would’ve realized the danger. As two guards grabbed his arms, Cor realized what was happening.

“Wait. What are you–?” Darius raised the scold’s bridle over his head dramatically as if crowning him. Cor’s eyes followed it and he began to thrash against the guards’ grips. “Get that thing away from me. You’re crazy, Darius. Don’t you dare.”

His words did nothing as the metal cage slotted over his head. Yet it was the only defense Cor had, and he’ll use it till his last breath.

“You sick, pathetic excuse for a king! You’re a pompous, spoiled brat unfit to rule! We’ll win the war, and it’ll be you at our mer–”

“That’s quite enough now.”

The thick stub of metal was shoved between his lips and held down his tongue as Darius pushed together the sides. It tasted of rust. There was a click by his ear, followed by tugging as the king checked the strength of the padlock. A finger tilted his chin up to look Darius straight into his blue murky green eyes.

“Speaking is a privilege. By all means, be defiant. You know deep down your privileges are mine to give and take away.”

Heat crawled up Cor’s cheeks as he was forced to stand there silent, looking through metal bars as Darius examined him like an exotic animal in its enclosure.

The king nodded and smiled. “Yes, I think this will do.” He tugged the chain as if urging a dog to follow. “Come along, Cor. Let’s get you set up.”

The boy had no choice but to let himself be led by a leash up the stairs to the throne. A forceful yank on the chain threw him onto his knees as Darius attached it to the base of his throne.

“A shame you don’t understand the workings of a scold’s bridle,” Darius remarked as he fiddled with the chain. “Men in my kingdom consider this one of the upmost embarrassments should the bridle be used on them.”

Once he was done, Darius gripped the device, twisting it so Cor was forced to look up at him.

“My guests will be arriving in one hour. Your only task of the night is to be my trophy, a symbol of my power and victory. I would tell you to behave, but we both know you don’t have it in you. That’s why this–” he shook the bridle, causing Cor’s mouth and jaw to ache–“does all the work for you.”

With a triumphant smile, he released the bridle and turned his back, leaving Cor tethered to his throne. “Don’t go anywhere!” he couldn’t resist calling over his shoulder as he and his guards and servants swept out of the throne room.

Left unguarded, of course Cor couldn’t let the opportunity pass up. He raised his chained hands to his face and pulled at the metal encasing his head. It refused to budge. He wound his hands in the chain and pulled with what strength he had as if uprooting a stubborn weed. After a few minutes of struggling, Cor sagged against his heels, muscles burning, hands red, face sore.

Instead of despair or fear as others may feel in his situation, hate burned through every emotion like a purifying blaze. He hated Darius. He hated the guest who would come in and ogle. He hated this kingdom.

He hated losing.

Darius was right. No matter how hard Cor fought, his enemy would win. He was the puppet-master holding his strings. The one who held every card in the palm of his hand. The one who could strip a prince of all his honor.

The one who always wins.

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