#the gate of freedom will involve two rooms

[basingstokemercury]

I've decided that the Gate Of Curiosity should take the form of a Christie-style mystery - there are holograms of people standing at the scene of a crime, and the players must ask the right questions and put clues together to solve it.

But I have one day to put that together in, so any suggestions for an existing story I could easily adapt to the d&d framework?

Not too long and complex, we don't necessarily have all that much time.

#the gate of freedom will involve two rooms #whichever the pcs choose to enter contains some impossible barrier (not sure what) #the right choice is to walk out and go to the other room #because if you choose wrong there's still the option to choose right next time #just need to actually do that tomorrow and the rest of the stat blocks and descriptions for pcs #I had a whole fairfaxing week without d&d and then other things happened last week too #why can I never work on this stuff before the last minute

[thecuriousquest]

How would Bakugo & Keigo (Separately) React to their darlings faking Stockholm syndrome just to attempt escape after privileges had been added (Ex: A walk, ect.)

Faking Stockholm Syndrome (Bakugou and Keigo)

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW (heavy abuse), punishment spanking, face slapping, isolation, starvation, calling Reader “bitch”, restraints (not sexual), beatings mentioned briefly

Master List

Request Rules

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Let’s start off with Bakugou.

He was suspicious at first with your change in behavior after the big punishment filled with beatings, starvation, and isolation.

You weren’t being stubborn or fighting him. You even willingly leaned against him while watching movies.

The longer this goes on for, he goes from being suspicious to pleasantly surprised. He even gives you some privileges such as being able to spend time outside a little bit longer. Then, he gives you walking privileges. He even lets you have hobbies where sharp objects are involved like gardening. At first, he would supervise, but he begins to trust you after months of seeing your good behavior. While you’re out gardening, he’ll stay inside, looking out the window every now and then just to make sure you’re okay.

He has very keen instincts however, and he checks on you when he feels like something is off. He doesn’t see you, so he checks his security footage and watches you finishing the dig underneath the locked gate out back.

How could he not have noticed you digging a hole underneath the gate? To be fair, he doesn’t use that one. He only uses the one in front of the house when he has to drive somewhere. This is the gate that goes to the woods behind the house.

He shakes his head and takes the pathway to the back gate. Just as you shimmy beneath the gate and poke your head out to freedom, you feel a vice like grip around your ankle, pulling you back towards hell.

The first thing he does is glare at you. Just silent glaring, stewing with his own thoughts. He feels rage, he feels betrayed, he feels heartbroken. He slaps you so hard that specks of dirt fly off of your face. He’s grabbing you by the ear and dragging you inside.

“You feel good about that? Feel like you did something? You won��t be seeing the light of day for a long time, bitch.”

He gives you a bath, but that’s the last bit of affection you receive from him for a long, long time. You’re back in the closet, back to only having one meal every two days, and back to only filling the lonely void with your thoughts.

———

Now for Keigo.

Keigo let you have cooking privileges because you expressed wanting to learn how to cook sometime after your change in behavior. He supervised you in the kitchen for a while before you earned his trust.

One night, he notices one of the knives in the knife block is missing. His immediate thought goes to you, and he curses before running to the room. You are locked in the bathroom, and once he sends a feather under the door to unlock the barrier, he pushes it open to find you trying to get your quirk cancelling cuff off.

Usually, he’s a pretty chill guy. Right now? Oh, he’s brimming with anger.

He stalks over to you, grabbing you by your arm, pulling you up off of the floor. He takes the knife from you, throwing it in the bathroom sink.

“I knew it was too good to be true. You just had to do it, had to go and ruin everything. Have anything to say?”

You don’t. You’re very quiet as he leads you to the bedroom, putting you back in chains. He turns you over on your stomach so that he can beat your ass black and blue, taking out all of his frustrations on your poor bottom.

When he stops, he sits with you until you’re done crying but only to tell you how things are going to be from now on. No more privileges, and you can forget about what walking even feels like because he will be carrying you everywhere.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere katsuki bakugou x reader #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki x reader #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere keigo #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo x reader #yandere hawks

[y-rhywbeth2]

The rich and nobility of Faerûn have a reputation for being "eccentric" - it's just a common fact of life that they've got the freedom to be downright fucking weird and they're going to buy weird shit.

But did nobody look into it when the Szarr family decided to buy up a swathe of land outside the Cliff Gate and later build a graveyard?

Baldur's Gate has no room for graveyards: all space available is required by the living, so cremation has historically been the only funeral plan available. The patriars also cremate their dead and have private little family shrines with the urns, so it's fashionable. It is the done thing. The proper thing amongst the real nobility of the city.

And then suddenly these new money shut-ins desperately need to build a private graveyard. Yes it's very important that their corpses be buried. And that they be buried outside the city limits, where the government and laws hold no power. Stop asking questions, please.

And alright, that could be easily dismissed as "rich people nonsense".

Except that stories keep coming back about dead family members walking around the graveyard. Like "yep the district we built around this graveyard is haunted, and people keep going missing. Oh well!" And certain Szarrs have this tendency to be pale as fuck, are never seen in the daylight, and their house in the city is giving off major undead vibes. Like the negative energy plane vibes are kind of unmistakable. And the fact that it's situated over even older, ancient cursed tombs.

There is a prominent shrine to Lathander in the city. There is a temple not that far off. Even if Faerûn's typically "live and let live" attitudes do sometimes extend to the undead, your religion does involve undead hunting, what are you doing with your spare time??

Alright, so whichever Szarrs were vampires (of whom there have been at least two) probably had the money and connections - and magic and vampire mind control - to shut down investigations, but it's still a massive hint!

The Szarrs should just install an enchanted flashing sign that says "we're vampires!"

#Starting on the Gate's planning and administration and this sticks out to me #Between the obvious Banite you voted in and the very unsubtle vampires and Sarevok #I'm starting to think the people running this city just want to hand control over to villains. #lore stuff

[henrysglock]

Ramble 10: Will, and Will Alone, Is The Key Component To Freeing Henry From Himself

Will is essential to Henry's end

Henry has never successfully broken out of a prison by himself. He tried to break out of the Creel house by himself and failed. He tried to break out of the lab and failed, just ending up in a new form of prison. He couldn't break out of the UD alone, he needed El to open that first gate. He couldn't open the rifts without the murders. He wouldn't even leave his own damn house until the older teens forced him out the window with their attack. He's been imprisoned, in various forms, his entire life. First with his mother, then with Brenner, and now with those he absorbed in his bid for freedom in 1979.

A spider in a jar cannot break the glass from the inside.

Henry has now broken his physical jar with the murders, and it was painful. It quite literally broke everything involved. Will says Henry's hurting, which connects to Hopper's "the hurt is good, the hurt means you're out of that cave". Henry has escaped his physical jar through hurt, and like a spider in smashed glass, he was heavily wounded. However, the physical jar is only one half of the equation.

What about his mental jar? What about the people he's absorbed, who are caging him in?

More hurt does not solve mental problems. More hurt does not reach people mentally, it drives them deeper into their jar. The only thing that's been shown to break someone out of their mental prison is love. Love can be painful, of course. The first step is acknowledging that you have hurt someone, and the fact that that person is now treating you with love is going to be confusing, and that combination of guilt and shame is going to sting like a bitch. But that hurt is good. That hurt means you're at the edge of the cave.

Music in ST may open the door, may lead a person to the edge of the cave, but love walks them through it. It worked with Will. It worked with Billy. It worked with Max. It's going to work with Henry. Love will save Hawkins.

Compassion is a form of love, and it's the form of love that Will is most adept at. It's blindfolding a horse to lead it out of a burning barn even though you, yourself, are susceptible to flame. It's seeing the physical manifestation of your trauma in a bathroom stall and saying "it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you", even though you, yourself, are in danger by it. It isn't synonymous with forgiveness; All it is is seeing the person on the other side of the bars and going "I see you, and I'm not going to hurt you. I'll let you out".

It's unscrewing the lid so the spider can crawl out, knowing full well that it could bite you, rather than smashing the jar and harming the creature inside.

Will can unscrew Henry's figurative lid with his two-way connection by showing Henry the truth, reminding him that he's loved (Victor is still alive, and he still very much loves Henry! Even 27 years after Henry's supposed death, Victor is still in shambles about it all), and then meeting him with the "I'm not going to hurt you" compassion to bring the whole thing home. It is, of course, up to Henry to crawl out of his jar. Will is our light source throughout all of ST4; he can guide Henry out of that mental cave, he can illuminate the edge, but Henry can only escape if he himself wants to leave.

Will will see everything that happened to Henry and essentially say "I see you, and it's time for you to be free of your suffering". He can open that door and offer compassion. Henry himself will walk through it by choice. He will choose to end his own suffering, because that is the first bit of true agency he's ever had for just him. Not Henry and Virginia, not Henry and Brenner, or Henry et. al.

Just. Henry.

It's the kind of ending that would make a room full of Netflix execs cry. It's going to be so messy. There would be so many tears involved. Raphael, Jamie, and Noah would shine. It would be a perfect ending to a story about the power of love and kindness in the face of cruelty.

#henry creel #will byers #st5 predictions #stranger things analysis #henry creel analysis #will byers analysis #stranger things #rambles

[coy-lee]

Cheater, Cheater

@afloofwithmultipleinterests and I had a mIGHTY NEEEED.

And someone in my ask box stirred it up lol. You know who you are >:3

Anyway, there was a need to write some muy fluffy content involving a jester and a spambot. So if you're into that kind of content, stop on by and take a look.

Description: Spamton and Jevil do battle quite often. Spamton feels like Jevil is hiding the secret to freedom in that cell of his. Jevil knows better than that and would rather keep Spamton from finding out the no such secret exists. So, they duke it out, both wanting to win for their own reasons. This time, though, Jevil is a bit worried about how good Spamton has gotten at fighting him...so he takes the battle in a different direction. A very fun direction.

Cheater, Cheater

He was back at the gate. He'd have to beat him eventually, right? Right! He'd have to... He had to. Spamton didn't need the key. Due to his broken nature, he could glitch right through the invisible door and straight into the void Jevil called home. He never knew what to expect when entering the jester's domain. The decor changed quite often, although it was always themed around the circus.

The stairwell above echoed with the sound of Spamton's heels tapping against the hard floor as he walked near the bars. The inside was just as dark as always, making chills go down Spamton's spine. He couldn't chicken out now no matter what. Before Spamton could glitch through the door, the imp materialized himself from the shadows, bells jingling behind him. 

"BOO HOO, BOO HOO, UEE HEE HEE! SO LONELY, SO LONELY I BE.. BUT LO, THREE VISI-" Jevil paused as he recognized Spamton almost instantly. "OH- ITS NOT A RESET, RESET! WHAT A WONDERFUL SURPRIZE!" The jester exclaimed in an illusionary tone of jubilation. "OH COME OUT, COME OUT! LET YOURSELF OUTSIDE, SPAMMY! WHAT FUN WE'LL HAVE, HAVE!"

Spamton groaned, already tired of the clown's antics. A small door appeared within the wall of bars before him. Jevil seemingly created it as a gag. Spamton walked through the door, only to step into a clown-themed tea room, but instead of there being a teapot, a gallon of carbonated 'Clown-Juice' sat in the middle of the table. There were various other jester themed decorations around the room, some that made sense... and some that didn't. Jevil proceeded to turn the chairs around, their backs against the table. 

"HERE! I EVEN PUSHED UP YOUR SEAT FOR YA!"

 The imp sat down in one of the chairs, holding up a spades teacup and slurping his drink as loudly as he could. 

"I'M NOT A [[kids 6 and under]]! AND YOU'RE [[insane deal]] IF Y OU THINK I'LL [[one big gulp!]] ANY 0F TH4T [[WHOOPY JUICE!!!]]" Spamton shouted, trying to establish some ounce of dominance in the clown's realm. He had been here many times before. Even though it wasn't his pocket of unreality, Spamton was now quite familiar with the place... or at least used to expecting the unexpected.  "Y0U KNOW DAMN WELL WHY I [[cruising around town]] DOWN HERE AND 1T ISN'T FOR A [[dinner for two]]."

Jevil went oddly quiet, however his smile widened. The table disappeared, and Jevil began to chug from the teacup he had in his gloved hand. After he was done he tossed the glass behind him, and it exploded similarly to how a certain prissy and popular queen's glass would back in Spamton's dark world. 

"ENLIGHTEN ME, ENLIGHTEN ME!" Jevil started, a smirk replacing his usual cold smile. "IS IT TO PLAY A CARD GAME? OH! OR A GAME OF TAG? OR- OH! I KNOW! YOU WANNA TELL JOKES, JOKES!? OH I LOVE JOKES, AND LAUGHING! I BET IT'S BEEN AWHILE SINCE YOU'VE LAUGHED, RIGHT?" Jevil's word vomit was soon cut off by Spamton who was taken aback by that last query.

"I'LL HAVE YO U KNOW THAT I [[unintelligible laughter]] PLENTY, ESPECIALLY AFTER I [[GAME OVER]] YOU [[juggalo]]!" Spamton countered, gritting his teeth. Admittedly, he was starting to feel the adrenaline rush and the nervousness right behind it. He wouldn't lose again. He WOULDN'T, but doubt was fluttering in his stomach. He could never tell what was going on in Jevil's mind. As an Addison, Spamton was used to predicting people's habits, wants and needs, but Jevil was a severe outlier, and that drove the salesman nuts.

"UEE HEE HEE!" His laugh was hollow, but imitated glee. "SO ITS THE OLD NUMBER'S GAME YOU WANT!" The clown tapped a gloved finger to his chin a moment in genuine thought, before snapping his tail similarly to fingers. He smiled widely at Spamton, his eyes sparkling with an unknown intent. "IF YOU INSIST... I'LL PLAY THAT GAME! BUT I WONT GO EASY ON YOU PINNOCHIO, CHIO~" 

Jevil turned Into his devilsknive, cracking the ground open to where he and Spamton would fall through into the endless void of space. It was the perfect place to battle... an empty canvas of freedom.

"AAYEGUFFFAH! [[$!?!]] WOULD IT [[killed]] YOU TO M4KE IT A SOFTER LANDING? [[JIMINY CHRISTMAS]]" Spamton exclaimed as he slowly got up, rubbing his bottom to relieve the pain from the sudden fall. He quickly shook it off. He had a fight to win. He couldn't let a little surprise like that throw him off. That was Jevil's whole shtick. Surprises. He huffed, getting himself ready for anything.

"BETTER BE QUICK ON YOUR TOES, TOES!" Jevil teased before healing Spamton up with magic for a fairly unfair battle, touching his shoulder to transfer the magic to his HP. "WHO KNOWS, KNOWS... MAYBE YOU'LL OUTSMART ME FOR A CHANGE!" Jevil vaguely encouraged, making spamton feel a little more hopeful... for only a few seconds. "EMPHASIS ON MAYBE." The puppet would scowl at the Imp if he could. Jevil disappeared, reappearing way across from Spamton, dancing and putting on a stage show for the lone audience member. "YOU CAN HAVE THE FIRST MOVE, MOVE!"

"OOOOH NONONO. I'M NOT F4LLING FOR   THAT [[tips and tricks]]. IF I GO FIRST YOU'LL [[uno reverse]] ME. [[Ladies first]], I INSIST," Spamton replied with a devilish grin of his own.

"OKIE DOKIE~ IF YOU INSIST THAT YOU INSIST!" Jevil shrugged, summoning his cliche card-deck bullets, shooting them in various patterns at Spamton, the puppet dodging them effortlessly by jumping, and defying gravity. He had gotten better since the last thousand attempts at trying to beat Jevil... To say the least, the imp was impressed. However, Jevil couldn't let that puppet find out the truth.  That's honestly what made the clown refuse to let Spamton win... It was the puppet's motivation that scared the jester. That was why Jevil needed to win no matter what, or else... Spamton would lose that spark he himself lost so long ago.

The carousel appeared, however it was a bit different. The top and lower border were see-sawing while it spun around, and around. Jevil shot his arms out straight in a T-Pose, summoning various rocking animals with his chaotic magic as they followed along to the beat of the carousel. ... However, despite that fact, Spamton was keeping up, and only got hit once. This was making Jevil kind of nervous..

The nervousness Spamton was feeling before began to wane as he was off to the best start he'd ever had. The carousel was one of the more difficult moves for Spamton to dodge, so this success was a promising sign. So long as Jevil stayed on his script of magical acts, the puppet had a chance.

"IS THAT THE [[Best in the business!]] 

Y OU'VE GOT, [[FOOL]]!? AHEAHEAHEA!" Spamton summoned a phone and spun it in the air like a lasso before flinging it directly at Jevil. The jester shot up into the air to avoid the attack only for the ringing coming from the phone to echo and bounce around the invisible box they were battling in. Jevil danced around most of the sound waves, only being nicked by one.

The carousel started to slow back to its original pace, but kept seesawing. Perhaps Jevil would have to up his game!

 "FAR FROM IT PIKACHU, I'M JUST GETTIN' STARTED, STARTED! METAMORPHOSIS!" The clown transformed into his weapon form, boomeranging around spamton, and lunging at him every 8th of a second. After a few throuple hits, spamton caught onto the pattern, and used mini-spams as deflections to catapult the attention away from himself. Jevil growled a little in frustration as tiny baby Spamtons jumped in his way as he tried to hit Spamton. His smile, however, never left his face.

"YOU FORGET I HAVE [[the boys]] WITH ME AT ALL TIMES? SPEAKING OF WHICH, HOW ABOUT WE PLAY [[DODGE PIPIS!]]" Spamton exclaimed, hurling pipis after pipis at the jester like they were snowballs... Explosive snowballs!

Jevil had just changed back into his normal form when spamton attacked, catching the jester off guard. "OH SEAM IN THE ANGEL'S HEAVEN-" Jevil got hit by three, which knocked his head off his block, springing up and down on his coiled spring neck. If Spamton could use decoys, so could he! Jevil sped up, admittedly tiring him out more than he liked. He went so fast, duplicates of himself were summoned, and it was hard for Spamton to pinpoint a target. ... Jevil had to think of something QUICK, Or else.. that last speck of hope in spamton may die. Wait... he knew! Jevil just needed an opportunity to escape this blue egg barrage... 

"ALTHOUGH A BIT EGGS-TREME, YOUR MOVE IS QUITE A BLAST!"

"..."

Spamton stopped in the middle of a throw, his brain processing what he just heard. Dial-up sounds took over his speech while his glasses blue-screened temporarily. After a moment, he shook his head like a dog, coming back to reality... and he let out the biggest most tortured groan.

"UUUUUUUUHHHHG... THOSE PUNS WERE   SO [[rotten to the core]] I THINK I'M GONNA THROW UP! @c@" Spamton grimaced, glaring at the clown grinning back at him, proud as can be.

As expected, Spamton recoiled his attacks to revive from that hard, mental blow of awful punnery. Jevil teleported away from his spot, into the void, plotting a sneak attack Spamton would never expect out of the likes of him... at least not one in the midst of battle. After the doll was done cringing, he was about to dodge jevil's attack... when he noticed the imp was no longer there. Now THAT wasn't fair!

"HEY WISE GUY! WHAT'S THE BIG [[deal!]] HIDING IS [[cheater cheater pumpkin eater!]]" 

Silence. Complete and utter silence... until he felt two gloves vibrate into his sides, startling him. He spun around, only to see nobody there.

"AYEE! H-HEY! F4CE   ME LIKE A [[valued customer]]!" Spamton shouted, his voice cracking as he was surprised by the sudden assault to his sides. He did a decent job of keeping his composure. Now he needed to stay vigilant. That clown could be anywhere.

"FACE YA LIKE A VALUED CUSTOMER, CUSTOMER?" Jevil giggled, appearing behind him again, however this time the gloves were off. The devil poked slowly up, and down the glitch's ribs. "LAST TIME I CHECKED IT WAS OPPOSITE DAY IN THE DARK WORLDS, WORLDS! IM THE SALESMAN, AND YOU'RE THE CUSTOMER! CAN YOU GUESS WHAT I'M SELLIN~?" 

A mischievous smile stretched across the joker's features. Spamton wiggled, his hands shooting down to grab Jevil's fingers, but he had already disappeared again.

"GYA!TYEEHEEHE- [[$!?!]] THE PRESSES! W-WHAT ARE YOU    DOING!?" the puppet demanded, wide eyed and looking in every direction to locate the culprit. "Y OU'RE NOT PLAYING [[fair share]], CLOWN!"

"I'M NOT PLAYIN FAIR, FAIR?" The jester's voice echoed against the void. The joker in question  chuckled from the darkness at this new game that would surely tire this puppet out. "WELL THERE'S NOTHING IN THE RULES AGAINST A LITTLE..." Jevil now appeared in front of him, a devious grin spread across his cheeks,"GIGGLY, GIGGLY, TICKLE, TICKLE NOW AND THEN~ BELIEVE ME, I DOUBLE CHECKED AND IT'S COMPLETELY LEGAL!" Jevil wiggled his eight fingers at Spamton, dull claws catching the dealmaker's attention. He jumped back, tripping a little bit before putting his hand up in defense as Jevil floated closer with that playfully evil stare.

"W-W-WAIT! HOLD 0N! Y-Y-YOU THINK THAT [[silly billy]] MOVE WILL WORK ON [[number1ratedsalesman1997]]? HA! TOO BAD FOR Y OU! I'M NOT [[tickles your fancy]]," Spamton retorted, squaring up, crossing his arms defiantly, and standing his ground. He knew Jevil wouldn't buy what he was selling, but he had to try. Unfortunately, though he was a good actor, the sudden rosiness of his cheeks called his bluff.

"OH... YOU AREN'T?" Jevil pretended to look convinced, before shrugging. "WELL... GUESS I WAS WRONG! I KNOW YOU'RE AN HONEST, HONEST SALESMAN. HMPH...  FIGURES... GUESS ILL HAVE TO JUST USE MY SPECIAL ATTACK, ATTACK!" Jevil shrugged, sounding disappointed... Did Spamton's lie actually work!? YES!!! THAT HAD NEVER WORKED! It hadn't worked on any Addison that had asked him, or even Seam! But somehow it worked on JEVIL!? Spamton thought he would see through that scam! Jevil really was a fool... 

"WHAT A [[sham]]. GUESS IT'LL HAVE TO DO! IM SURE I CAN HANDLE [[Specil move]]."

"YOU SUUUUURE...? IT'S PRETTY HARD TO DODGE!" Jevil smirked, summoning Spamton's own smirk.

"AH! SHOWING YOUR HAND, HUH? WELL Y OUR [[light shower]] OF SCYTHES IS IMPRESSIVE, BUT NOT SPECIL ENOUGH T0 DEFEAT ME," the salesman replied cheekily. His blush receded as his confidence grew once more. He could handle this. Jevil's special attack was always that giant scythe move.

" LET'S GET THIS [[show on the road]]. THEN I'LL SHOW YOU A RE4L ATTACK!" Spamton taunted.

"WE'LL SEE SPAMTON, SPAMTON!" Jevil flew back over in position before metamorphosing into a scythe, and shooting up towards the ceiling. One scythe fell down, then another and another and another... Spamton knew the rhythm of this attack, becoming a pro at dodging the basic attacks Jevil would usually give the player. 

After all the scythes fell, it left the giant undodgeable one to slowly fall. Spamton braced for impact, raising his arms above his head to protect his plastic noggin upon impact... but it never came. He opened a single eye to see two clawed hands hovering above his underarms, but he was too late to correct his fatal mistake. Jevil touched down, scribbling, and drawing shapes with his nails across the cloth of the salesman's jacket, which was surprisingly thinner than spamton had remembered. 

He tried to fight it, but he couldn't hold in what he didn't expect to come out!

"AYEEEEAHEAHEAHEAHEA! TH-THAHAHAT'S NOT HOHOHOW THIS WOR-GYYYAaAaAaA!" Spamton squealed out, clamping his arms down, knees buckling immediately. He was falling backwards into Jevil's hold due to his weak knees. The puppet took a deep breath to spit out the last coherent sentence he would be saying for a while.

"PLEASE-JEVIL-YOU-DON'T-HAVE-T0-DO-THIS-WE'RE-FRIENDS-R1GHT-PAL-I'LL-GIVE-Y0U-BEST-DEALS-4-LIFE-I-SWEAR!!!"

"JEVIL, JEVIL!?" Jevil paused as soon as he heard his name. His ACTUAL name... Spamton had never said his actual name before! "YOU CALLED ME JEVIL!!" Overjoyed, he squeezed Spamton in a rib cracking hug.

"AG-G-G-GYUH-Y-YOUR EARS MUST BE [[out of batteries]]! I-UHG- NEVER SAID [[legal name]]!" Spamton wheezed out, wiggling to free himself from Jevil's crushing grip.

Jevil loosened his hug a bit, however not enough to let Spamton out of his grasp. "HMMM... YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU'RE RIGHT! I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING BECAUSE OF HOW HARD YOU'RE LAUGHING!"

"WH-" Jevil started tickling again, one arm around Spamton's chest, raising his undershirt up, and the other hand trailing around the doll's stomach. 

"COOOOCHIE COOCHIE COO LITTLE SALESMAN~ ARE YOU TICKLISH, TICKLISH HERE HM? I THINK I CAN HEAR YOU GIGGLING, GIGGLING! I'M TOO DEAF TO HEAR REALLY ANYTHING, SO I'M NOT TOO SURE~!" Jevil noticed a little X where Spamton's bellybutton was supposed to be. He stored that information for much later in his playfully evil onslaught.

"STYAHAHAHAHEAHEAHEAHEA![[HOLY TOLEDO]] NYEAHEAHEAHEAHEAHEA!" Spamton cackled, squirming and kicking aimlessly in the clutches of the clown. He tried to grab at the offending hand exploring his sensitive belly.

Jevil pretended to just now notice his tail was plugging his ears. "OHHHH... THERE WAS THE PROBLEM! NOW I CAN HEAR YOU JUUUUST FINE! UHEHEHEHEEE... SUCH A TICKLISH LITTLE TUM-TUM, HM? GEEZ, I DUNNO HOW YOU CAN STAND IT, NO WAY I'D LAST! TIIIICKLE TICKLE TICKLE, TIIIICKLE~ KITCHY KIIITCH~"

"OHOHO MYHYHYHY GOHOHOHOHOD! SHUHUHUHUT YOUR [[PIE HOLE]] YOU- AYEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEE!" the puppet cried out. The tickling was already making him lose all control, and that was embarrassing enough, but the teasing? Jevil was going to kill him with all that sickeningly sweet baby talk. You could hardly make out Spamton's red cheeks due to how red the rest of his face was. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide from his adversary, but he wasn't in a position to do that. All he could do was flail and squeal... But the part that truly made the salesman want to hide was the fact that... he didn't hate this... At all. 

BUT HIS WORST ENEMY COULD NEVER KNOW THAT SO-

"THIHIHIHIHIHIS IHIHIHIHIS [[AGAINST THE GENEVA CONVENTION]] YOHOHOHOHOU ANIMAHAHAL!"

"A WAR CRIME? KEHEHE~" Jevil stopped, letting Spamton catch his breath. The puppet relaxed, his giggling mixed in with static as he panted. "SMILING DURING A WARCRIME DOESN'T SEEM VERY ORDERLY... THEN AGAIN I WOULDN'T KNOW ABOUT ORDER, ORDER! UEE HEE EHEE~ I THINK YOU ENJOY, ENJOY THIS, DON'T YOU SPAM-MAN?" Jevil questioned, a rare, genuine smile coming out.

"W-W-WHAT!? N-N-NO!!! THAT'S [[Crazy bread]]! I'M A PROFESSIONAL! I'M A [[BIGSHOT]]! BIGSHOTS DON'T-

DON'T -

DON'T -

DON'T -" 

Spamton glitched, his glasses blue screening again. His entire face to the tip of his nose was bright red, steam puffed out from the sides of his head, and a car horn beeped, the sound coming from Spamton's agape mouth.

Jevil chortled a bit, letting his battle buddy let the embarrassment out of his system. "DON'T WHAT? DON'T HAVE FUN, FUN? WHAT'S WRONG WITH A LITTLE GIGGLE EVERY NOW AND THEN, HM?" Jevil questioned out of curiosity, and assurance. "ITS OKAY TO BE GOOFY AND FEEL GOOFY EVERY NOW AND AGAIN, AGAIN! DON'T YOU THINK SO?" Jevil poked just a single digit on Spamton's side just above his hip, feather light to just get giggles out of the salesman.

"GyeYEEhehehehe NOHOHOhoho!" Spamton laughed, shaking his head and trying to hide his face with his hands. He was no longer trying to stop Jevil's hands, now focusing on covering his red hot cheeks. "J-JEVIL IHEEHEEHeehee CAHAHAHAN'T!" He jerked away from the prodding finger and was able to rock forward, still breathless with giggles as he weakly attempted to crawl away.

Jevil giggled sinisterly, floating after spamton before grabbing both of his ankles. "GYEHEHE~? NYOHO YOU CAN'T? TELL ME STOP AND MAYBE I'LL BELIEVE YOU~!"  Spamton fell on his padded tum as the devil pulled his legs out straight and sat on the back of his knees, hovering those ungloved claws above spamton's shoed tootsies. "UNTIL THEN, I GUESS ILL HAVE FUN WITH AN ENSY WEENSIE SPOT YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE OPEN~" Jevil playfully reminded, before slipping off both of those flat heeled leather shoes the salesman always wore. With no money to afford socks for those old shoes he found in the trash, Spamton's plush little feet were now completely exposed. 

oh. NO.

"W-W-WAIT! TH-THAHAHAT'S EVIL!" Spamton's eyes widened to the size of saucers when he felt himself get pinned under the jester's weight. "THOSE ARE [[fine Italian leather]] YOU [[little sponge]]!" A wobbly smile stretched across the peddler's face just from the threat alone. He curled up his toes, trying to get ready for what was to come.

"REALLY!? I THOUGHT THESE WERE PLEATHER!" Jevil teased, tracing two nails down  tiny feet, the delicate jointed toes scrunching up in response. Spamton snorted, trying to cover his mouth to hide his giggles and high pitched squeals. He only uncovered it to speak. "IHIT'S UHUP TO PLAHAHAYER INTERPRETAHATION!!" His puppet hands slammed back over his teeth, one trying to keep his bottom jaw closed and the other attempting to block the puppet mouth gap.

And with that.. another finger joined on both feet, now swirling and wiggling. 

"OHO... IT ISNT HEALTHY TO HOLD BACK YOUR LAUGHTER SPAMTON! LET IT AAAALL OUT. KEHEHEE~"

"NNN-NNNGYKHKHKHK... MMM-PFFFFFTAHAHEAHEAHEAHEA!" Spamton finally burst out into hysterics. He was slapping the floor, trying to find relief from the sensations plaguing his tiny feetsies.

"OH MY FOX! SEE? ARENT YOU HAVING FUN? YOU SEEM TO BE ENJOYING YOURSELF! UEEHEHEHEE~" Jevil teased, ever so gently raking his nails over every inch of the doll's feet, including under and between those lil' toesies! "WE SHOULD BATTLE LIKE THIS MORE OFTEN! THIS KIND OF GAME IS SO MUCH MORE FUN THAN THAT OLD NUMBERS GAME!'' Jevil turned around slightly, seeing the jolly old puppet snorting, and thumping his fists on the ground. Snickering, the joker pulled away, turning around to face him, still on seated Spamton's knees. The imp temporarily stood to gently maneuver spamton facing up so the puppet could catch his breath easier. 

"YOUHOU OKAY PINOCCHIO?" Jevil asked, giggling a bit at Spamton's expression.

"@c@ I'M -pant- STILL [[breathing the fresh air!]]" the spambot replied, recovering from that last attack. He rubbed his feet together to shoo away those dastardly phantom tickles left behind. "BUT I WILL NOT CONCEDE TO YOUR [[TOMFOOLERY]]. NEVER..."

"NEVER YOU SAY, SAY?" Spamton should NOT have given the jester such a sweet treat of an opening... 

Jevil picked the puppet up under the arms, bringing the salesman onto his lap with a previous idea brewing to the forefront of his mind.

"PERHAPS THE RIGHT SPOT WOULD CHANGE YOUR MIND~" Jevil smirked, pulling Spamton's shirt back up from before revealing his plush tum, booping a side just barely with the pad of his finger, keeping his claws to himself for the time being.

"EEHEEHEEP! R-RIGHT SPOT? N-NO THERE ARE NOT MORE [[spot remover]] I SWEAR. Y-YOU'RE WASTING YOUR [[time sensitive offer]]..." Spamton rushed out. He giggled nervously and gave Jevil a pleading look... but he still never said the magic word. Instead, the salesman grabbed onto the jester's hands, holding them away from his body.

"NO MORE SPOTS? OH NO, NO, NO! I THINK YOU'VE FORGOTTEN, FORGOTTEN A FEW MISTER~!" Jevil giggled gently pushing Spamton's arms back, the salesman's arms still jelly after the prior attacks. "LIKE THESE TWO HIPS!" Jevil kneaded his thumbs into the joints, just barely skimming the doll's sides with his claws.  Spamton flailed, kicking those little legs of his faster than a roadrunner. 

"HAAEHAHEHEEHEA!! [[Fifty percent off!]] JEHEH-SNORT! [[Ha ha ha!]]AHAAH-" 

"OOOOOORRRR..." Jevil crawled his hands to Spamton's sides and started to tickle that stuffed tum of his! "THIS LITTLE SWEET SPOT RIGHT HERE, HERE!"

"GYAAAHAEHEAHEAHEAHEA! NAHAHAT THE [[tummy wummy]]! AYEEHEEHEEHEE!" The spambot was lightly slapping at Jevil's chest as he squirmed fruitlessly. "YOHOHOURE THE DEHEHEVIL!"

"NOT THE TUMMY WUMMY? AW! BUT YOU SOUND LIKE YOU LOVE, LOVE THIS ON YOUR TUMMY WUMMY!" Jevil cooed, slowing the tickles down to be gentle. "DEVIL IS IN MY NAME! DON'T WEAR IT OUT~ OH! SPEAKING OF BEING EVIL,"  Jevil trailed off, drawing a single swirling finger around the canvas of spamton's belly, slithering around his middle in circles like a snake. "I WANNA SEE WHAT KIND OF GIGGLY TREASURE I CAN GET FROM THAT X!"

"NONONOHOHOHO! THAT [[parking spot]] IS [[out of commission]]! D-DOHOHON'T Y OU DAHAHAHARE!" Spamton squealed in protest. He immediately slapped his hands over his belly button to guard it from the devious clown.

"WELL THATS NOT VERY NICE!" Jevil teased, a challenging grin stretching onto his face... did Spamton really think he would only use his hands to tickle him to snorts? "GUESS WE'RE GONNA HAVE TO DO THIS THE HARD WAY... SAY, SPAMTON," the imp stretched his tail around and bent the tips of the J to tuck under the dummy's arms.  "I DON'T RECALL, BUT IS THIS A TERRIBLY, TERRIBLY SENSITIVE AREA~? COOOCHIE COOCHIE COOO LITTLE ADDISON~"

"NYAHAEHAEHAEHAEHAE! YOHOHOU [[$!?!]]!" That clever move by Jevil did the trick. Spamton immediately clamped his arms down, bringing his fists up to his chest. "STYAHAHAP TEASING MEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!"

"DO YOU NOT LIKE BEING TEASED TO BITS, SPAMMY? ALSO, IF YOU WANT TO KEEP MY TAIL UNDER YOUR ARMS, BE MY GUEST! OTHERWISE, OTHERWISE YOU CAN RAISE THEM UP AND TRY YOUR LUCK! UEEHEEHEE!'' While explaining this in a playful tone, Jevil went back to swirling around the little belly pudge, getting closer and closer to the spot of buried belly laughs.

"AHEAHAEHAEHAEHAE! YOU'RE GOHOHONNAHAHA [[killed]] MEEEEHEEHEE! SNORT!" the salesman cackled, hardly able to focus enough to make any comebacks. He was losing his mind, but he wasn't ready to surrender to this fiend.

Jevil etched closer... and closer... until finally he swirled right onto the little X, before stopping entirely. Everything stopped in place, the movement under his arms, the swirling, all that was on focus was the finger sitting still on the little stitch. Jevil gave Spamton a cat-like look of mischief, not doing anything but waiting out the inevitable. "YOU KNOW WHAT? LET'S STAY LIKE THIS A MOMENT, MOMENT! YOU ENJOYIN' YOURSELF? I KNOW A GENUINE SMILE WHEN I SEE ONE~" In actuality.. Jevil was planning his ultra tickle attack in the back of his mind during this one-sided conversation before finally unleashing the mother of all tickles.

"I-pant- [[dont trust like that]]... YOU... -pant- YOUR TEASING ME AGAIN! I-pant- I ADMIT TO NOTHING!" Spamton said defiantly. Maybe he could tough it out…

"DON'T TRUST ME? WHY SPAMMY! WHAT HAVE I DONE FOR YOU NOT TO TRUST ME?!" the joker questioned, feigning innocence. Spamton knew better than to trust a literal Jester devil after tickling him half to death when they were having a fair and square battle just before! Whatever happened to that anyway!? This wasn't fair at all! Spamton was getting tired. The look the doll gave Jevil after saying that said it all.

"AW... SPAMTON, I'M HURT! HEARTBROKEN, SHOT IN THE CHEST!" Jevil overdramatized, cocking an arm over his forehead, Spamton not seeming to notice both hands were off his belly. The puppet slowly but surely caught his breath as Jevil did his theatrics, all the while giving the purple imp a look of suspicion. After a moment, Jevil smirked, bringing a single arm around Spamton's ribs in a gentle hug to keep him still. "WELL, I THINK YOU DESERVE A PRESENT FOR BEIN SUCH A GOOD SPORT, AND HAVING AN ADORABLE LIL LAUGH!"

"I-I-I-I [[shut your yaps]]! WHAT ARE Y 0U PLANNING JEVIL?" the doll inquired suspiciously, his cheeks flushed from the embarrassing compliment on top.

"I DUNNO, DUNNO! I THINK IM PLANNING ON GIVING YOU A PRESENT FOR BEING A SNORTY, FLUFFY LITTLE GIGGLEBUG!" Jevil replied, his smirk unhindered. He leaned down just a little bit, trying to be inconspicuous.

"I-I'M NOT [[soft and fluffy]]! AND DON'T CALL ME A... [[ERROR 404]]!" Spamton squeaked in response, not wanting to repeat the new nickname. He didn't know what was going through that clown's mind, but he knew it was a grand finale. That look in Jevil's eyes said it all.

The look on Spamton's face read that the jig was up. With that, Jevil suddenly shifted his face downward towards the tummy before him, giggling a little before starting to ticklishly nom on the sensitive belly with those teefers of his! "OMNYomNYOMNOM~! I KNOWM YOUWH LOWVE WHEM SHAWM DIB DISH! OMNYOMMONCHCROMCHMOOMCH!" the devil teased playfully before bringing one claw down to tease a side while nomming away like a cat on a ball of yarn.

"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAEHAEHAEHAE! OHOHO [H E A V E N] IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN'T! ICANTTAKEIT!" Spammy shrieked, shaking his head and pushing weakly at the little devil's shoulders. Tears of mirth were streaming down his rosy cheeks, and his glasses slid off his face and toppled to the side. He tossed his head back and curled forward over and over again, not knowing what to do. After 30 seconds or so, he broke.

"OHOHOHOKAAAAYEEEEHEEHEEHEE! Y 0U [[W1NNER]]! PLEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEE-SNORT-EEHEEHEASE! MEHEHERCYEEEEEHEEHEEE!"

As soon as the word was given, Jevil retracted his tail, and rose up from Spamton's tummy, letting the puppet recover from that final attack that left him breathless.

"AH... HAEHAE... HEHE... HEH... Ahhhh..." The puppet let the residual giggles bubble out of his throat while he breathed. He closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion take over. Spamton was waiting for Jevil to declare victory and kick him to the curb, back to his dumpster like the clown always did... But... He opened one of his eyes to see Jevil hovering with his legs crisscross, sitting on his tail, a genuine smile taking over his features.

"....SO?" The salesman asked, sitting up slightly to look the joker in the eye. 

"SO WHAT, WHAT?" the jester replied while leaning on two fists curiously.

"AREN'T YOU GOING TO [[dispose of any used needles!]]?"

Jevil's eyes widened in realization, before his face softened into an unnaturally gentle expression. 

"YOU CAN STAY HERE AS LONG AS YOU NEED, NEED! YOU DID JUST LAUGH YOUR STUFFING OUT AND ALL, "  Jevil explained, magically pulling a blanket out from behind his back and tossing it to Spamton, who caught it out of surprise. The salesman really didn't know what to think of all of this... The clown had never been nice to him like this. The other boss-darkner tended to be cold behind that mischievous, playful look in his eyes... He was that one step away from freedom, blocking his only escape to the real world.. HEAVEN. ... but never had Jevil acted like this before... It almost reminded him of a family he lost long ago.

The doll looked down at the blanket in his lap. Then up at the clown.

"I... um... thank you..." Spamton was shocked enough to lose the glitches that stole his speech for just a moment.  A sudden "POOF" from under his butt and a cushiony feeling alerted him to the cat bed he was now sitting in. He tried to take offense to that, but he couldn't. Instead he took the opportunity to get some sleep in a real bed...first time in a long time. He curled up, snuggled in the blanket. The salesman drifted off to sleep quickly, having not been this comfortable in so long.

Jevil hummed in content. He needed this. They both did. They were both being tortured endlessly by the game they lived in ... and them fighting all the time was tiring. In this moment they both realized how stupid it was, the endless fighting. They both understood what it was like to be thrown away, not only by society, but by the game itself. If anything they should be allies... No... friends.

Of all the things to make them see that... It was this particular fight. Jevil giggled at the prospect that something so silly may have just permanently changed how the two misfits saw each other.

And that was a wonderful thing.

#lee!spamton #spamton lee spamton #ler!jevil #deltarune tickles #tickle fanfiction #ticklish!spamton #Ohmygoshthiswassomuchfun #I needed this severely #deltarune fluff #FLUUUUUFF #[[no Spamtons were harmed in the making of this fic]] #OH LOOK THEY MADE A FIC OF US US #W-WAIT WHY DID I HAVE TO BE THE [[sacrifice]] IN THIS [[Best selling novel]]!? #CUZ I GOTS MORE LER ENERGY THAT YOU YOU #UEEHEEHEE #I RESENT TH4T [[5 pounds of balogna]] STATEMENT #Man we have to do this again... Vengeance perhaps??? #Yeeeeees >:3

[jtargaryen18]

Scenting Their Prey

Scenting Their Prey

Masterlist

Words: 4.5k

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: Kidnapping, captivity, drugging, explicit sex, non-con, dub-con, oral (fr), A/B/O dynamics.

Relationships: Alpha!Tony Stark x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Summary: As an Omega, you had control of your life and your choices. Until you didn't...

A/N: This is for @ironlady1993's I love you 3000 Challenge and it's VERY late. I'm so sorry. The next and final part will post this week. Bucky's turn. Thank you so much!🙏

Tags are a mess. If you aren't tagged, it's not intentional. I'm working on another way to get word out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're just letting me go?" you asked.

"Wait by the gate," one of the soldiers told you.

He motioned you toward a simple farmer's gate that broke up the barbed wire fence that stretched out as far as the eye could see. That the man stood slightly in front of the others told you he was the leader. All of them dressed in black tactical gear, all holding rifles except for the one who spoke to you. His was slung across his back.

Your heart raced as you timidly did as you were told. You shivered in the chilly autumn breeze.

Beyond that rusted gate was an open field with a forest at its edge. There were no visible guards beyond the gate: just wide-open spaces, freedom.

You swallowed hard. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

When the northern states began invading the southern border of Canada, everyone knew why. Omega birth rates in the US had been dropping for the last twenty-five years, causing the land of the free to resurrect some very archaic restrictions on the few they had. The alpha population, on the other hand, flourished.

But despite all their twisted efforts, very few omegas were born in the US over the last two decades.

It started with a rash of disappearances. It didn't take long for the media to ascertain that every one of those missing young Canadians was an omega. Once the invasions started in small border towns, the politicians got involved. A war between the two nations would be declared at any time.

None of it helped the omegas caught in the crosshairs. Not yet. One by one, the border towns were invaded. The younger omegas were rounded up and taken into custody. The stories were all over social media. The kidnap victims, male and female, were illegally transported into the US and auctioned off to alphas for vast sums of money.

Your town had been invaded. They'd plucked you out of your life along with all the other young omegas in your community, mated and unmated. You were kept in a makeshift prison on the outskirts of town for the last few weeks, kept company by armed guards.

The facility was run like a prison. All of you were fed three meals a day and allowed a daily shower. But there was no communication with the outside world. No television, internet, or smartphones. You got an hour in a community room each evening after dinner. They provided jigsaw puzzles, craft baskets, and a handful of books. All the books were educational, written to educate omegas on what to expect during heat cycles, nesting, mating and bonding, birth, and parenthood.

The writing was on the wall. You were all held captive, deprived of the suppressants most of you took to control your biology. You were all like death row inmates, waiting for the permanent death of your freedom. It was only a matter of time before you found yourself shipped off to America for auction to some unknown wealthy alpha to claim.

That's why you were so confused now.

With your heart flying, you glanced over your shoulder to see another omega from your town standing in the place where you'd been standing before. She looked as confused as you felt. Both of you wearing the camouflage-colored sweatshirts and jeans they handed out this morning. The boots they gave you were too small, squeezing your toes.

You waited by the gate, exhaling a shaky breath.

What was going to happen next?

The leader marched in your direction, stopping in front of you. The man towered over you, his gaze hard. The subtle scent of him told you he was a beta. All of the guards were.

You froze when he pulled out a small pistol. In the blink of an eye, he pressed it to the side of your neck. You flinched when he pulled the trigger, felt a sharp pinch. Then it burned. What had he shot you with?

"I'm going to open the gate," he said meaningfully. "And you're going to run across the field to the woods. If you stop running, you'll be shot."

Oh, shit.

"Once you get to the woods, you're on your own," he went on. "If you can find your way out of those woods, you're free."

Free, huh? You didn't buy it. They wouldn't have invaded your town, taken you captive, and held you for weeks just to let you go. What was going on here?

With an efficiency that was startling, he lifted the latch on the gate and pulled it open.

"Run!" he yelled.

Your body sprang into action despite the thoughts swirling around in your head, despite the burn spreading out from your neck. You sprinted out of the gate, running like hell for the woods to avoid being shot. You were winded by the time you reached the woods. Your activity had been very limited since they took you.

Fear wouldn't allow you to look back. You paused for a beat to catch your breath and then you began wandering the woods. Something told you the offer was too good to be true, that you wouldn't be allowed to just wander out of the woods to freedom. But if there was any chance you could find a way to free yourself...

You scanned the area around you wildly at first. Did you know this place? Was it close to home?

You made your way through the woods, but nothing looked familiar. As the line of trees where you'd entered the forest got farther away, you came to realize how dense and deep these woods were.

You weren't watching where you were going and collided hard with someone. Your heart flew as you stared at another captive from the facility where you'd been kept. Her eyes were wide in alarm.

"Watch it!" she hissed.

"Sorry."

When you started to go about your way, she grabbed you by the sleeve and hauled you back with her behind a huge tree trunk. You looked at her in question.

"They are hunting us," she whispered loud enough for you to hear. "Don't you get it?"

 Hunting?

 "What?" you mouthed.

She leaned close, getting in your ear. "There are alphas hunting us," she said. "It's just a game to them."

You stared at her in horror as you moved back. You didn't miss the perspiration on her brow, her labored breathing. Her scent was strong around both of you. Climbing warmth spread out from your neck to the rest of you. Now that you'd paused, you became aware of it. Your fear escalated as your hand flew up to cover where he'd shot you.

"What did they give us?" you asked.

The other omega glared. "What do you think?"

With horror, you realized what they'd done.

"My heat is coming on fast," she said. "Yours will too. If we stay together, the scents will be too concentrated. They'll find us easily."

You knew she was right, but your heart sank. You'd just found someone else in your situation. It would have been nice to work together, find a way out of the woods.

If you ever did. If you even could.

"Go!" she said, and you started moving.

Even though it was a cool autumn day, you were hot and it was getting worse. Your mind spun as you tried to move quickly but quietly. How many of you were they sending out? How many alphas were looking for the lot of you? What was going to happen?

You struggled to breathe through your nose, to watch where you stepped. There was a chance you'd make it out, right? Could you survive this without being found by some arrogant American alpha? You needed to keep track of your direction. Glancing up in desperation, you were looking for the position of the sun through the canopy of trees.

And that's when you spotted him.

The man perched high up in a tree, dressed in black tactical gear like the soldiers at the facility except one of his sleeves was shiny, threaded with gold. Is that how the alphas are dressed? Brown hair that just touched his shoulders framed his face.The bottom half of that face was concealed by a black mask and steely blue eyes watched you intently above it. Crouching in the tree, you couldn't tell how big he was. You hoped he wasn't fast.

You sprinted away, racing through the forest as fast you could and praying you wouldn't trip and fall. You heard him hit the ground hard. Your heart threatened to beat its way out of your chest as you just kept going, hoping he hurt himself in the fall.

The heavy sounds of his footfalls came up behind you fast. A strong arm grabbed the back of your sweatshirt and swung you around. You were shoved back against a tree hard, knocking the wind from your lungs. The edge of your vision faded to black to see the man in front of you, his blue eyes lit up in determination. He held you to the tree by your neck. When you tried to pry his hand off, you found it was unnaturally hard. It wasn't a shiny sleeve. It was a metal arm.

The man plucked the black mask off his face, dropping it to the ground as he leaned in and pressed his face into your scent glands. He took another whiff of you as you trembled in his grasp. His own scent invaded your senses: deep plum, leather, and winter forest. The scent of him pushed the growing flames burning inside you higher, your thighs clenched together, and moisture flooded your panties. Was it the chemical they gave you to provoke a heat cycle? Would you have reacted to him anyway?

Even so, he was a head taller than you with wide shoulders and long muscular limbs. His intent gaze burned into you as he held you there, struggling in his grip. You jerked as his flesh hand grabbed the waist of your jeans, plucking them open before sliding down into your panties. Your range of movement was limited as he held you by the neck against the tree. No matter how much you twisted and squirmed, you couldn't keep his seeking fingers from sliding through your heated folds on all the slick your body was producing. The slight smile that curved his mouth filled you with dread as he pulled his hand free of your denim.

All you could do was stare when he brought those fingers up to his mouth, his lips and tongue cleaning them. His low hum was a deep sound that you felt in every inch of your body. Some dark intent lit up those dark blue eyes as he focused on you.

But he wasn't saying anything.

In a flash, he threw you over his right shoulder, held in place with his flesh hand. He started moving and your stomach lurched as the woods flew past you at an unnatural speed. Your hands clutched the back of his jacket, the black leather cold under your fingers. You spotted another girl from your confinement, running from another alpha. The omega who told you what happened was further into the woods on her hands and knees, being fucked from behind by the alpha who caught her.

Adrenaline spiked your growing fear. You didn't even try to fight the beast of a man who had you. What was wrong with you?

Planting your hands on his back, you pushed off hard and fast. It worked because you surprised him, landing on the ground with a thump behind him. Pain seared your knees and elbows as you scrambled up. Now if you could be fast enough in getting away.

You dashed off, screaming when another man darted out from behind a tree and caught you in his arms. The one who held you wasn't as tall as the other man, but you could feel the muscular wall of his chest under your fingers as he held onto you. Unlike the first one, he wore a deep burgundy sweater and jeans like he was just walking through the woods. His scent was an intoxicating blend of ash, iron, and molten lava. You fought to breathe, unable to prevent yourself from pressing your face into his neck and taking a deep breath of the alpha's essence.

"Thank you, Barnes," he said, his hold on you tightening. "I'll see you back at the cabin."

Planting your hands on that chest, you tried to push back, to free yourself. This alpha with his perfectly coiffed dark hair, goatee, and deep hazel eyes chuckled as he held onto you with ease.

"Feisty," he said, startling you when he fastened a heavy metal device around your wrists with a speed that was scary. "I like it."

"No." The man behind you growled the word. You felt the heat of him behind you, his scent invaded your senses and went to your head. "She's mine."

The other alpha stiffened against you.

"Ah, no," he said confidently. "She's the one I picked out. I showed you, remember? I realize you're on the edge of a rut, buddy. But this one is mine. Go find your own."

Barnes' low growl sent a spike of fear through you. Would he accept that?

To you, the alpha who cuffed you said, "Start walking. You get more than three feet away from me and those cuffs are going to get very uncomfortable."

What?

You sped up, trying to dash away. Electric pulses sent searing pain up your arms. The pain was so acute, it took your breath away. It momentarily overpowered the biological process they'd artificially induced in you. And that was saying something.

Grabbing your elbow, he urged you to walk along next to him, in no particular hurry. A smirk formed on his handsome face as he pulled you along in the forest. You were afraid of what it might mean. You were so overwhelmed by everything, you cooperated. You didn't want to feel the pain again.

And Barnes couldn’t take you away from him without causing you a lot of pain. He wouldn’t, would he?

The lewd sounds of coupling were all around you, a macabre symphony of domination that pushed your fears higher. They were also making the powerful craving building in your body so much worse. The slick  soaked your panties, your jeans, clinging to you in a sticky mess. Your core was aching, and your thighs were starting to tremble. You hadn't been given bras and the scrape of your sweatshirt against your tight nipples was impossible to ignore.

The one he'd called Barnes wasn't trying to stop you. Was he still back there? Had he gone to find another omega? It was hard to tell over the sounds of coupling and hard to focus on with waves of heat and need pulsing through your body.

As your heart raced and your breath came faster, you saw the edge of the forest ahead. He'd mentioned a cabin to Barnes. Did that mean he didn't intend to claim you in the woods? If you were now going to belong to this alpha, was he sparing you at least that indignation?

A few feet from the break in the trees, the alpha stopped you. Walking around in front of you, his gaze on your plucked-open jeans. His smile widened.

"This will make him insane," he said, reaching in and gripping your panties. They were so wet there wasn't even a rending sound as he ripped them from you, pulling them free of your jeans. Humiliation had you dropping your gaze as he brought them up to his nose. "Fucking perfect."

Why did he want to make Barnes insane?

A low whine escaped you as your pussy lips absorbed the pain of that extraction. Craving more. The alpha's expression held a touch of sympathy.

"Not much farther," he said, dropping your underwear to the forest floor. He's leaving them for the other alpha? Why? A display of dominance? "We'll take good care of you. I promise."

It wasn't lost on you that he said we.

When you emerged from the woods, at a different point than you'd entered them, you saw more armed soldiers. Another drove up in an open black cart, nodding to the alpha as he pulled you toward it.

"Everything has been arranged, Mr. Stark,"

 "Thank you," he muttered.

Helping you in first, he climbed into the driver's seat, and off you went. It was a short drive until you reached what looked like an expensive resort. Yes, all the buildings were styled as rustic log cabins. But as you got closer, you saw that they were upscale and luxurious with huge shimmering windows and other fancy architectural touches that would have been expensive. If you hadn't been cramping so badly, you might have appreciated the sprawling resort.

As it was, you were in a lot of discomfort bordering on pain. By the time he pulled into the garage of the largest cabin you would see, you were shaking. The heat they'd forced on you made you desperate. The scent of him next to you had your mouth watering. You were ready to crawl into the alpha's lap even as your mind was screaming at you to fight and resist.

Reaching over, he freed you from the cuffs. His fingers felt so good as they soothed the flesh marked by the metal. His heated gaze was intent on you.

"They dosed you good, didn't they? Have you ever been through a heat before?" he asked.

“Alone,” you said, tears gathering. Frustration burned your body while your mind was spinning.

“I’m Tony. And I know you don’t think so right now,” he told you, “but you will have a good life with me. Our cubs will have a good life. You won’t want for anything.”

Dropping your head, steeling yourself against the ache, you managed to mutter, “freedom.”

“Freedom?” Tony said, his chuckle was a deep, rich sound. “You haven’t even experienced freedom yet. But you will.”

With impressive speed, he dashed around the cart and scooped you out, carrying you bridal style into the luxurious cabin. Your face pressed into his neck, breathing him in. The heat and strength of him were compelling, had you grinding your thighs together in agony.

The huge bedroom was warm, cozy. The fireplace next to the bed held a bright flame adding its glow to the soft lighting. The bedding looked sumptuous and soft. The extra blankets neatly folded on the bed had your mind spinning, wishing you’d had time in advance to work with those blankets. Get everything just right.

A cart on the other side of the bed, loaded with food. There was a basket of fruit and a small stack of protein bars. There were sweets too with cookies and pastries. The small cooler next to it was filled with ice, bottles of water.

Tony was careful in placing you on the huge bed. Smoothing a hand over your cheek, his eyes were kind. But there was something… some mischief. What was happening? He’d went to all the trouble to pluck you out of the forest.

A quick glance around the room and he sighed. “I think we’re all set.”

You were panting, a hand down in your jeans. You were burning alive from the inside and your desperate fingers on your clit couldn’t bring you relief. Your tears were bitter. Your life was being stolen by an obviously wealthy American alpha. You’d been thrown into heat against your will. Heat swallowed you. Your throat was parched.

Were you even going to survive this?

“Let’s make you more comfortable,” Tony purred, grabbing the hem of your sweatshirt and pulling it over your head. His gaze roamed over your breasts, his smile widening. He lifted a hand, barely touching one tight nipple with his fingertips.

That simple touch pulled a desperate whine from you.

“It’s okay.” That hand slid down over your ribs and darted into your jeans. When his fingers pushed in around yours and found your clit, you thought you were going to explode. You froze, taking in the delicate way he was tracing circles around that tiny bundle of nerves at your center. His lips chained kisses along your neck, the light scratch of his beard made you shiver. “You really are perfect.”

Tony moved to push your jeans down and you were frantic to help him, managing to shed the shoes and socks you wore too. His hands skimmed over your thighs as you did, the rough pads of his fingers making your crazy and surprising you all at once. Why would a wealthy alpha has rough hands?

When you were fully revealed to him, he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into him for a kiss. Every part of your body was on fire, aching. It didn’t speed him up. He took his time, claiming your mouth with a seeking kiss. He enticed you, tasted your lips. When he eased back, you just stared.

“What are you doing?” Your voice sounded desperate to your own ears.

Tony chuckled. “In a weird way, I’m reinstating Prima Nocta.”

You had no idea what that meant, and you didn’t care. Taking you in his arms, he took both of you further up the bed, into the small mountain of pillows at the top. His lips blazed a path over your jaw, down to your chest. When his mouth closed around one of your nipples, it was all you could do not to scream. You choked it back, losing your mind as the tip of his tongue danced around that tight little peak.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispered around it. “I want to hear you.”

You gasped as he moved down your body, his mouth cleaning the slick from the tender flesh of your inner thighs. Your hands shook as your fingers sank into his hair. You parted your legs for him, closer now to getting the relief you needed. When he got his mouth on you, you screamed long and loud. While his tongue strummed your clit with precision when it wasn’t exploring your folds, you were howling wantonly in the quiet of the cabin.

You begged for relief, pleaded for more. The alpha held you open for him easily, humming into your flesh until you thought you’d blow apart. You came the first time just from that vibration. Tony brought you off the second time on his tongue.

Tony lifted from you, pulling the sweater he wore off and revealing a dazzling display of muscles. But there were so many scars, including a nasty looking one right at the center of his chest. You were about to reach out and trace it with a finger, but he caught your chin in his hand and made you meet his gaze.

“Present for me,” he said. Not an order but a sensual request.

And you scrambled to get on all fours for him, facing the pile of pillows at the end of the bed. Tony’s hand caressed your ass, and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Let’s turn you around,” he whispered.

Whatever you want. You turned to face the huge picture window at the other end of the huge room. The sun was setting and smearing the sky in vivid red and orange, almost dark. You dropped down to your elbows, whining a little as you did to let him know you were still in need. The two orgasms you already had took the edge off, but everything still hurt.

You’d had a couple of lovers, betas, who you’d been happy with for a time. They’d been good lovers. You’d never been with an alpha. Tony slid easily into your weeping entrance. But the size of him… You gasped as he reached the end of you, your walls trembling to stretch around him. You wondered how it would feel when you weren’t in heat.

At the moment, it was bliss. His hands gripped your hips tightly and he began to move in you, knowing what you needed. His cock pounded into you once he established a rhythm, making you fight to stay in place for him. Your slick walls tried in vain to grip him, the slide tightening the grip lust had on you, spinning your senses.

The first howl you heard was on the edge of your awareness. It might have been Tony. It could have been you. But as Tony fucked you, the heat and lust consumed you. Your fingers clawed at the lavish bedding beneath you while your body craved more. Your heart slammed in your chest, in time with his powerful thrusts. You were panting, whining. By the time you were coming again, sensation overwhelmed you, coursing through your veins.

You dropped your head, a slave to your biology as Tony worked you from behind. You braced for him to reach his release, to knot you.

Yet, even in your chaotic state, you noticed he wasn’t in a frenzy as you were. Tony’s movements and breathing were controlled. His grip was firm but not demanding. While the string of orgasms helped quench the out-of-control flames of your heat, he wasn’t as desperate as you were.

Did he find you lacking? If you didn’t satisfy him, would you be sent back to the woods? The facility where you’d been kept for weeks?

Would they let you live?

Grabbing your hair, Tony pulled your head back up and holding you there. The move put the picture window in your view. The sun was sinking beneath the horizon and its dying rays offered enough light to see his shadow outside the window.

You saw the silhouette of the first alpha who caught you and it both terrified and excited you.

When his metal hand struck the window, cracking the glass beneath his fist, you came hard.

“Fuck yeah,” Tony growled behind you.

The world spun for you and Tony released your hair. His grip on your hips was iron-hard, almost hurt. Tony doubled down then, coming inside you as the echoes of your release went on and on until everything went black.

@youngmarquis @blameitonthecauseway @rootcrop @salomewrites @honeyhan-123 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @4charmed @n7siha @threeminutesoflife @dusuncelidusuncesiz-blog @you-are-my-sanctuary @steveodinsonbarnes @glassheartandconcreteflowers @jaysayey @21stcenturywitchcraft @caffiend-queen  @candy-and-writing  @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl  @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe  @daughterofthenight117  @hv-chw3  @iheartsebastianstan @imanuglywombat @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903  @kitkatd7  @lok1sgrl  @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @marvelouspottering @maxwelllee2020 @nannies-dont-date @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose   @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31  @rayofdawnworld  @richonne4life @rissysthoughts @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldierrr @shygirl-00 @stargazingfangirl18 @supernaturaldean67  @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee  @tonib666  @villanellevi  @vitamingummies  @weebid  @what-is-your-plan-today  @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox  @onetwo3000 @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @nerdygirl8203 @princesssterek  @vampy-doll @alexakeyloveloki @littlelurkinglark  @bluemusickid @tenaciousperfectionunknown @marvelovernfan @violentyoshi @chris-butt @thiskindahotkindamusic @meetmeatyourworst @ice-dtae  @evans-sims @biiskuitx @jevans2 @xoxabs88xox @peaceandloverry @jesevans

#Scenting Their Prey #A/B/O #Tony Stark #Bucky Barnes #Alpha!Tony Stark #Alpha!Bucky Barnes #Omega!Reader #Soft/dark fic

[give-soup-please]

Hello hello! Do you think I could get a narrator and reader but the reader is very very clumsy and accident prone? Like they trip over their own feet and some how get a paper it when they literally just picked up a piece of paper.

Perhaps the Narrator has to like “baby proof” the entire office so the reader doesn’t keep getting hurt because he is stressed and worried out of his mind for them.

Romantic is preferred but obviously platonic fine too!

Narrator with an accident prone reader (romantic)

He winces every time you hit your arm or leg on the corners of the cubicles, grimaces when you hit your head on a low hanging painting, and tries very hard to not cringe when you trip on the bucket pedestal, knock it to one side, and end up wearing the bucket as a hat.

You’re hopeless. It would be absolutely endearing if it weren’t for the fact that the narrator is worried sick about you.

He doesn’t understand the specifics of how fragile humans are. A couple of bumps, scratches or bruises won’t damage you permanently. All he can see is someone he cares about getting hurt.   

He begins babyproofing the office, for lack of a better word. He finds plastic balls to round out all the corners, he cuts all of the paper into smooth ovals so you won’t get a papercut, and he puts the gate on the lift permanently. He’s not going to let you fall to your death. 

If he has nails, he’d be biting them every time you went off script. He has rules to follow, he can’t directly interfere, as much as he wants to. He just wants to pick you up and put you in his shirt pocket or something, but he can’t. Not only is that physically impossible unless he edits the code for his size, it’s also irrational. 

He does his best to direct you to the freedom ending over and over, but he knows that you’ll get bored eventually. 

At least the employee lounge is relatively safe- and then he sees you try and pick up the pieces of a mug you accidentally broke and now you’ve got some cuts on your fingers. He lets out a string of swears under his breath, and starts replacing the mugs with plastic cups.

You step on a plastic cup, slip, and now you’re on the floor. Good lord. 

He can’t let anything happen to you. He mustn’t! You’re important and precious to him, though he’s loath to admit it.

The zending room is banished until he can find a way to get rid of the stairwell permanently. 

Romantically, he’s very gentle too. He’ll kiss each one of your injuries, while editing them away. He doesn’t need to kiss them for the edit to work, but it makes him feel better about it. 

If you two are romantically involved and he’s worried about your safety, he becomes the gentlest lover imaginable. He will not be the cause of your pain. 

He’s so stressed about you because his feelings are running that deep for you. He wants to protect you so badly, but he also- believe it or not - wants to respect your autonomy and freedom. He doesn’t want you to resent him for taking your choices away, so he bites his tongue and stops his hands from editing the script, no matter how badly he wants to.

Please help him, he’s a nervous wreck.  

#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #headcanon #answered ask #tsp #stanley parable #narrator #tsp narrator x reader

[csphire]

Meet Tav (Gustav the VIII)

Legal Name: Gustav the VIII, Future Duke of the House of Sunshard

Nickname / Aliases: Tav / That Foolish Brat He's not fond of his first name Gustav as he shares it with his father, his grandfather, and so forth in his lineage. It takes him a while to open up to Astarion, and later the others, about his proper name, past, and not-so-happy "privileged" life. His mother gave him the nickname Tav, and it stuck. It's his father and grandfather who usually call him "That Foolish Brat." Background: Noble Age: 26 Pronouns: He / Him / They Race/Subrace: High Half-Elf Alignment: Chaotic Good Deities: It's complicated. Lathander, Mystra, Loviatar and Ilmater Class / Subclass: Bard / Wizard Instruments of Choice: Flute / Violin / Lute Weapons of Choice: Hand Crossbows, Daggers, Staves, Mace and Shield

Love Interest: Astarion Their relationship was a bit bumpy at first. Although both were snatched up in Yartar they had not officially met until crossing paths on the beach after the crash of the nautiloid. Before that, as Tav performed in a tavern he had watched Astarion prowl the crowd night after night and eventually ended up whispering sweet nothings in another young nobleman's ear. Tav found the colorfully dressed elf handsome but by now knew a charlatan on the hunt when he saw one. He followed the two out in concern that Astarion was going to rob the other man or do something worse but the two of them ended up abducted instead. The noble Tav would like to think was spared. Astarion on the other hand at first assumed Tav an easy mark for later. Pretty but far too gullible, and idealistic given all who the half-elf helped. Astarion also presumed by the young man's attire and easygoing manner that he had zero understanding of hardship or the dark underbelly of this world.

Then, after learning the nature of all of Tav's physical scars and background, he was left baffled. He couldn't understand why anyone would flee from such a life of seemingly rich comforts and safety to barely eke out a living by performing music alone. But eventually, he came to realize just how trapped Tav felt in his old life. How the younger man had no room to breathe and be himself. It paled to his own suffering but the yearning for freedom was still something they both held in common and bonded over. Best Friends: Gale and Wyll Tav is friends with all of his companions. However, when it comes to Gale there is a mentorship aspect to their friendship as well due to they are both wizards. With Wyll they relate to one another deeply by being a part of nobility and an inability to obey or please their fathers.

Personality: Among his peers, he was always a touch aloof but polite at first. He's learned from court life to always be on guard and to listen more than talk. All to learn enough to unleash either the sharpest of retorts to anyone who dared to insult him first or the sweetest complement to charm. He maybe haughty at times, but only to cover up the fact he's actually quite shy when it comes to dealing with people, especially one-on-one. At his first ball, he soon found standing and chatting in a large group easier as it mostly involved observation. "So many like to hear themselves talk. I say let them," he decided with a smile. If any focus fell upon him, Tav learned quickly to pivot it to another when the need arose. It was only when he started to perform before a crowd, the more raucous and lower class the better, he found the courage to drop his mask at long last, cut loose, and rediscover his true playful self. "Why under that thin layer of ice you're as warm as a sunbeam and such a sweetheart," Astarion would tease but lightly. Bio: Tav was born to a rich family who can trace their lineage back farther than the founding of Baldur's Gate. Like most of the city's nobles, as the heir to his family line, he was highly educated and sheltered well beyond his childhood. He was also expected to find someone suitable and marry to continue the Sunshard line. Once puberty hit, however, Tav could no longer stand his family's guided cage or their carefully laid plans for his life.

At first woefully naive about the world beyond his family's garden wall and court life, he rebelled, ran away, and ended up with a few scars after a near-fatal fight. But from them, he also learned more about himself and life in general. Each time he wiggled free, he managed to stay out of his father's and grandfather's clutches a little longer. At first, it was a handful of days but by his late twenties, he managed to dodge them and survive all on his own for over a year.

In fact, on his recent nineteenth attempt, he had made it all the way to Yartar. There he hoped to finally be beyond his family's reach. He had been an established bard for a few months with no sign of any of his father and grandfather's hirelings or mutual acquaintances. He was at last happy and fully prepared to be disowned. A threat his father had made when they last spoke. But then one terrible night he along with Astarion and countless others were abducted by mindflayers.

Trapped in one of their pods his only small comfort was knowing his mother might continue to think he's only fled from the nest again. That he was out enjoying the world and doing what he loves. Unlike his father, she never begrudged him for taking off and only demanded he send word home to assure her of his safety now and then. Given all that's happened he's not sure where to begin and just how much he should leave out, least upset her.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #tav oc #I just keep making them #OC Gustav BG3 #bard #wizard #brat #noble #mama's boy

[slothquisitor]

Imperfect Gifts

Shadowheart and Astarion go shopping. They have a mild crisis in fantasy target. There's friendship and gift-giving, and also some fluff. Astarion x Liv, 3k words, fluff and friendship with a mild dose of reality 'cause it's me.

Also on AO3.

It’s a bright morning in the Lower City, and Astarion keeps having to remind himself not to gawk at everything he passes. He’d forgotten just how full of color the city is, and how loud it can be with people going about their days, buying and selling things, gossiping on corners, and living their lives. He’d forgotten that there could be light. If he purposefully keeps from glancing up the hill, at the palace that looms there, well that’s his business. Perhaps if he doesn’t look at it, he can pretend it’s not there. He doesn’t have any leads on where Cazador is performing the ritual, not yet, but soon he won’t have to look over his shoulder anymore.

They’ve only been in Baldur’s Gate proper for two days now, and they’ve spent most of that time investigating murders and warning potential targets before finally stopping the murderer altogether. This is the first morning they’ve awoken in the Elfsong without something immediately pressing unless you’re counting the general matter of the looming threat of the Absolute. And he’s not, because today, he’s got gold in his pocket and the freedom to go spend it. Besides, Gale had begged to go to Sorcerous Sundries and because Liv can never say no and also it involved books, they set off as soon as breakfast was over. 

It’s the first truly free moment any of them have had in weeks, and it shows since most of their companions idle around the upper rooms of the Elfsong looking a little lost. But Astarion, for once, knows what he wants to do, and he cajoles Shadowheart into joining him to go out into the city. 

 He cannot remember the last time he had money. Cazador didn’t allow for it, so anything he had wanted he had stolen, manipulated someone else into buying, or simply gone without. His options were slim anyway, most shops closed up by sunset. Sometimes, he’d take his time walking past the windows on his way to whatever tavern or corner of the city he was being ordered to, and he’d wish for the simple freedom of walking into a store and buying whatever he wanted.  

Cazador be damned, he’s decided that today is that day. He’s not exactly flush with gold, but he’s got enough to his name that he can buy something. Maybe many somethings. It’s quite exciting.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Shadowheart asks as they turn down a sunlit street, banners zigzagging above them, flapping in the breeze. 

“Oh, I haven’t a clue. Isn’t it wonderful?” he replies. He has exactly zero plans besides going into stores and buying pretty things. It’s a giddy sort of feeling. 

Shadowheart’s answering frown fills him with utter delight. “You mean to say that you dragged me out here without a plan or goal in mind? Are we…we’re not bonding are we?” 

“Perish the thought!” Astarion clutches his heart mockingly. “Liv simply suggested that no one should be alone with all these doppelgangers hanging about. You should take it as quite the compliment that I invited you to come with me of all our illustrious companions.”

Shadowheart’s eyes narrow. “You invited me because I’m the least likely to cause an incident in a store.”

He’s laughing now. “Well, there is that.” 

All joking aside, he’s actually enjoyed Shadowheart’s company these last few weeks. After her little crisis of faith, she’s become much better company; not that he’s about to tell her that. It’s a funny thing, most of their companions have become…entertaining to be around if nothing else. 

“We probably shouldn’t be gone overly long; I’m sure that Liv will want to go investigate that Steel Watcher Foundry or something now that a murderer isn’t on the loose.”

“Darling, the two wizards went to inquire about books. I don’t think we need to be in a hurry. Besides, weren’t you the one saying that you wanted to be done with black and purple for a while? You’ve just as much gold as I do.”

She sighs. “You’re not wrong…”

It’s as close as he’s going to get to an agreement from her. “You know, I walked these same streets for two hundred years, but I hardly ever paid attention to anything that wasn’t open at night. I’m not sure I even know what types of stores are on this street.”

“Don’t look at me. If I’ve ever been here, I’ve no memory of it.”

What a pair they are, Shadowheart with her missing memories, and him with two centuries of pain and starvation warping his own. The first shop they duck into, they don’t stay long. The clerk is overbearing, too friendly, hovering as they try to browse, and it’s all too much. They make excuses as they step back out into the street, not a single gold spent. 

“That store was…not my favorite,” Shadowheart says, tone uneasy. 

He nods in agreement, it had been a lot. Too much. He wants this experience, but he’s not really sure how he feels about the audience. The fact that they might notice his discomfort while he tries to do this very simple thing fills him with an odd amount of dread. “I was definitely not impressed.”

“Perhaps the next store will be less disappointing,” Shadowheart remarks snidely. This particular brand of coping he understands perfectly.

They wander for a while through labyrinthine streets, avoiding smaller stores that don’t look busy until they finally follow a few citizens into a store that has its double doors thrown open in welcome. It’s more of a general store, large and full of different sections rather than any one specialization. It’s a relief when the proprietor simply offers him and Shadowheart a nod, and then they go back to assisting other customers. Astarion is determined to buy something here, to not get overwhelmed and leave like the last place. Shadowheart seems similarly intent as she leaves his side to do her own wandering. 

He walks the aisles looking at all the many items on display. There are plenty of things worth having, though he can’t seem to think of a use he’d have for half of them. There are potions and dyes, gloves and boots, and cooking supplies. There are pretty baubles and tools and an entire display of different types of rope. 

Some part of him feels like he has always been starving, even before becoming Cazador’s puppet. The appetites have changed, perhaps, he doesn’t remember much from before he was turned, but a content and sated person does not accept a deal with a vampire; that is the very definition of desperation. He doesn’t know what he wants, but he does know that he wants . He wants and he wants and he wants. This shop is a veritable feast of things, and he could buy so many of them…but for someone who has been starving for so long, he’s surprised he cannot summon much enthusiasm for anything. 

Nothing…moves him. It’s all just stuff, things, these objects he has no use for. But he is determined to find something, to reclaim this piece of himself, if only for a moment. 

His wanderings take him to a small corner of the shop. There are books across the wooden shelves framing the windows. The sunlight streams in, and dust motes dance in the sunbeams. It’s a sad collection of books even by a general store’s standards. Gods, he’s seen abandoned houses with better selection. All it contains are the most popular and overrated books of the last few years. But near the bottom shelf, there is a pretty copy of an older novel, something he read once, and feels like he loved once upon a time. He picks up the book, it’s not something found or pilfered from a forgotten bookcase. It’s new, unsullied, and entirely his. 

He buys it. 

When he rejoins Shadowheart, she seems just as lost, just as unsure as he is, but she’s holding a pretty green scarf in her hands. He tells her that it matches her eyes, but they don’t talk about the struggle or the fact that this is perhaps the most depressing shopping trip that anyone has ever gone on. He won’t tell her this, but he’s grateful for her company, grateful that he didn’t go and try to do this alone. 

On their way back to the Elfsong, he spots an art supply shop, and it gives him an idea. Shadowheart agrees readily once he tells her his plan, and it’s the easiest stop of their day. 

Later, after a long afternoon out in the city, investigating Gortash’s connections and the Steel Watchers, their group finds themselves back at the Elfsong, tired and exhausted. For every problem they solve, new ones seem to appear. Still, it’s not an unpleasant evening. He and Liv sit together on one of the couches near the fire. He’s curled himself into the corner to read his new book, but he’s angled himself so she can lean against him while she sketches, and it’s…very nice. It’s a quiet sort of intimacy he would have never expected would be something he enjoys so much.

There are a lot of benefits to staying at the Elfsong, but privacy isn’t one of them. Karlach loudly announced the first night that it was a sleepover party as they all claimed their beds. He’s grateful for a real bed, for warm baths, and fresh cooked meals. But he misses the space his own tent allowed, for the conversations, and the ability to be alone with Liv. He’s pretty sure she misses it too, since she’s still here, staying up later to be with him than she ought to in this little sunken area of the room. 

Once he’s reasonably sure that everyone is asleep, or at least not paying attention to them, he pulls his arm back from where it rested had been draped around her. She shifts positions immediately, giving him space. “Sorry, that probably wasn’t that comfortable for you,” she says. 

“I just need to go get something. I’ll be right back,” he replies. 

“Okay.” She’s already turned her attention back to her sketchbook in her new position.

Gale is snoring softly, as he approaches their little shared alcove, and he quietly pulls his other purchases from the day out of his bag. Then, he softly pads back down to the couch where Liv waits. The light from the fire is all that brightens the room, and her face is thrown in sharp relief by the orange blaze. In this light, her dark brown hair takes on a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges. If moments could be suspended, he’d want to live in this one. It’s far from perfect, but it’s his and he is overtaken by how much he wants more just like this. 

“I have something for you,” he says, keeping his words quiet. He’s specifically waited for this moment tonight, for the relative privacy of these quiet hours. He doesn’t like having an audience for these sorts of things. He’s still worried he’s doing this wrong, and while Liv never complains, never makes him feel like he’s out of his depth, he feels the others’ eyes. He worries that they watch him stumbling through this thing that is so easy, and so instinctual for so many, and they’re judging him and all the ways he isn’t good enough. 

Liv looks up at him, and there is genuine shock on her face as he holds out the wrapped parcel. “For me?” 

“I am nice sometimes, you know,” he says as he sits back down beside her. He leans back casually on the couch, as if pretending that this is the most banal thing in the world, might make it true. 

She twists to look at him, hands cradling the parcel. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just... I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a gift.”

Oh. He can; it was her. A drawing he stole. Books left at his tent. Moments of comfort and peace. All gifts he’s not sure he deserves. “Surely your family…” he responds automatically without realizing the stupidity of the assumption. She told him what her family was like. 

He waits for the sadness in her eyes to come, for him to have ruined this moment. But instead, she shrugs. “Not big on gift-giving, if you can believe that.” And the tension eases. 

“Well, I understand you’re not familiar with the practice, but people usually have opened a gift given to them by now,” he says with a teasing grin. He’s not familiar with the practice either, but he’s getting impatient. 

She takes the parcel in her hands, pulling the twine away and trying to open the paper as quietly as possible. They both laugh when her attempts at being quiet are almost louder than just opening the damn thing normally. The brown paper is heavy and he’s sure that they’ve somehow managed to wake everyone in the large room. But finally, the contents are free and he pulls the paper away, setting it off the side of the couch. 

The sketchbook is plain, just a gray cloth-bound book. But what he’s most excited about is the leather case, filled with graphite and inking tools and everything the clerk had assured him and Shadowheart that an artist might need. They’d both been considerably out of their depth in the art store, but they had tried. And besides, Liv is running out of pages in the sketchbook she’d salvaged back at the grove, and so she needs a new one anyway. This is a small token really, something that hardly matters in the grand scheme of things she’s done for him. 

She stares and the sketchbook and case for long enough that he’s starting to worry that he’s done something wrong, breached some sort of etiquette that he’s ignorant of within their still-new relationship. 

When she finally looks up at him, all concern vanishes. “You did all this for me?” 

And he’d do a hell of a lot more if it meant more smiles like the one she’s giving him now. “Of course.” 

“Thank you,” she whispers, clutching the gifts to her chest. 

She still always waits for him to reach out first, but he’s gotten better at reading her, at knowing when there’s a question in the air. “Come here,” he says, and she melts into him, head resting on his chest. He kisses her hair as he wraps his arms around her. 

“You’re almost out of pages in your current one,” he explains. 

“I’d have more but someone stole some,” she says, face still buried in his shirt.

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “I wondered if you were ever going to bring that up.”

She angles her head to glare up at him. “You’re not even sorry, are you?”

“Not even a little.” He wasn’t sorry then, and he’s even less sorry now. 

Liv flicks his shoulder. “I thought I’d done a shit job drawing you and then you just stole the page.” 

Well, maybe he is a little sorry. “You’re not shit at anything you do.” The comment is offhand enough, but she squeezes him tightly as he says it. 

“So why did you take it then?” she asks. 

“Because I wanted it, and I didn’t know how to ask after making such an ass of myself.” And because it was a kindness, a bit of tangible proof that maybe life needn’t be so bleak. He had been afraid, so afraid to show any amount of weakness to another person. They’re on more even footing now, and he trusts her. 

She nods like she understands. “Thank you again, this is…just thank you.” 

He kisses her then because he’s not sure what to say in the face of her gratitude. Gratitude is not an emotion he’s well-versed in. He was often told to be grateful, to show gratitude for scraps, for not getting more lashes, for being able to walk after a days-long torture. He’s even less familiar with having anyone be grateful to him, to feeling like he’s done something for another. Oh sure, their little group has helped many people these last few weeks and there’s been plenty of gratitude, but none of it felt like this: genuine and full of promise. 

This kiss lingers longer than others they’ve shared since Moonrise. It used to be that every touch, every escalation of contact, felt like giving something away that he could never get back. Night after night, lover after lover, he would hollow himself out until he was only a shell of the person he used to be - that man he can’t even remember, that shadow that looms on the edge of memory. 

But Liv treats every touch, every brush of fingers like they’re a gift. In these moments, he feels like he is discovering he is not as hollow as he once believed. He is still here, still wanting to be present. 

She pulls away first, before kissing the tip of his nose. “Thank you again,” she says, the words soft but firm. He thinks she means for more than just the book, but neither of them says so. 

He tucks a strand of hair behind her pointed ear and smiles. “You are welcome, my dear.” Perhaps this is all imperfect, this new life of his, but it is his. And that’s a hell of a lot more than he had before.

#Astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x liv #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #slothquisitorwrites #listen i am so exhausted post parent-teacher conferences #i can't even tell if this is good anymore #but i want it out of my damn brain #so here #*hands you fic *

[samseabxrn]

helllllloooooooo ad i have some questions about your wips!!! will you please ramble a little about (cut down at the garden’s gate) and (remember me to one who lives there) 👀 if there are snippets to share i will eat them up 👯‍♀️

Hiiiii Rowan thank you so much!! I’ll take any excuse (and somehow you picked the two I’ve had the most brainrot about lately, haha!) I'll put this under a 'read more' because it's long...

cut down at the garden’s gate

Hawke spares Anders and runs away with a Bethany who was sent to the Circle; years later they end up passing through Starkhaven because with a burned-down Circle and no templars, it's looking like a solid option

Sebastian had so much potential for part of the base game, like he got sent to the Chantry for being too slutty…. Hawke is sugar daddy to a literal prince, there's so much there 

But mainly, I love how he's so driven by revenge when you wouldn't expect it, and it raises a lot of questions I love: how much of his devotion to the Chantry comes from real faith and how much is wanting a family or wanting a purpose? How much is hiding from his past? I love the conflicting beliefs he holds and how leaving the Chantry would let him see all its flaws but he gets thrown into ruling instead

I also love the idea of Fenris coming with him to Starkhaven but that's an idea for another day...

Lots of threads here, including but not limited to: the Hawke sibling relationship, whether Hawke and Sebastian could ever commit fully to each other in Kirkwall, how Starkhaven is a new beginning and the dynamics have shifted, their shared grief over losing family... and also a political marriage

Hawke comes by for the morning service every time she wants his company on a mission: when she can't take mages, when she has to get in the thick of the fight, anytime she craves another archer at her back. She has a keen trust in anyone who can view a battle from a distance and size up the opponents by her terms. Sometimes it feels like she brings him just to see if he’ll bite when she makes a decision, to see his reaction. It has become lovelier to indulge her impulses than to practice patience.   She sits in the third row on the right, her hair swooping into her eyes and one foot tapping against the floor, her knee bouncing up and down out of rhythm with the Chant. Like an equal exchange, after, she comes to him with her request, her eyes tinged with pink from the perfumed air. I’m allergic, she says when he asks why she does not attend more often, her red mouth set in a lovely smirk.  She is messy and imperfect, and he sees Andraste in her face and in her lies. It is no surprise that when he closes his eyes, he sees Hawke, perched on his knee when he takes the throne, panting into his ear while he undoes her slowly; Hawke under him in the bed of the lord’s chamber, that secret which lies behind the tall door deep in her family estate; Hawke, rocking against his mouth as he kneels between her legs, all these profane thoughts wind through his head as he lies in his narrow cot in the chantry basement.

remember me to one who lives there

I think this is one of the first things I started writing for DA and I really want to come back to it one day!

I’m obsessed with impossible tasks and folklore lol, especially ones that involve hidden identities/second chances—so I took the title from "Scarborough Fair" and all those strange and impossible tasks the singer asks for!

I really deviated from my "canon" for this one; the main idea is that Ashna drank from the Well of Sorrows and the Divine reinstated the Circles, so she's made a series of bargains for her freedom and left room for one person to undo them and find her

I also just love all the ambiguity around the Well and how it might compel someone to make all these strange decisions; that idea of its constant whispering is so haunting

Cullen takes an “extended leave” from the Inquisition to find her, but also to understand the choices he must make for the world he wants

The woman is quiet as she thinks, and eventually, she offers him a place in the kitchen, on a makeshift bedroll laid out on the thatched floor. He lies against the firm ground, wondering about the look in the woman’s eyes, the way she stuttered for once when choosing a room for him. As if she was unused to company, and she is set out of the way in the outskirts of this village, and maybe she hasn’t had a visitor in too long. And then he gets back to remembering, or trying to. He remembers being happy, remembers mornings spent in bed with his wife, his wife, in his arms. Remembers nights of travel and low conversations and nightmares, of anything but sleep. There was always a lightness that he is beginning to forget. If he were better—in general, really, but better at accepting what he cannot change—it might have been enough to have loved and been loved once, no matter the ending. Cullen used to consider himself properly sacrificial and duty-bound. Only recently did he allow himself to grow greedy, and now, the memory of her will never be enough. He married her; they were going to have children, perhaps, at least a dog, and gather wrinkles and aches and a full lifetime of memories. He wants it all still; sometimes, he feels he is nothing but wanting. “You’re hurting me, Cullen,” she said absently. Half-mad with panic, he dropped her hand like it burned.  “We will figure this out,” she said calmly. He didn’t understand it, but he should have. She’d always had the same reaction to bad news—thinking two steps ahead, a foot out the door at even the slightest tug of the thread, gone by the time the rest began to unravel. Two mornings later, he woke in an empty bed.

Thanks again bestie!!! 👯‍♀️ 💕

#my writing #asks #rowanisawriter

[tanzanite-zircon]

The Fractured but Whole: Freedom Pals Unite! Chapter 1: I’ve got just the ‘Toolshed’ for this problem

(… Well shit.)

I stare at the line of lava covering Cartman’s door step in annoyance. All I wanted was to play with my friends and now I’m a prisoner in Cartman’s living room. I was playing Fighters of Zaron with Kyle, Butters, Craig, Clyde, and Jimmy when Cartman suddenly jumped into his backyard dressed up as some sort of mutant racoon claiming to be from the future. Seriously, what the fuck is going on! He called us over to his house, saying that he needed help from the Fighters of Zaron and their king.

… It should be ‘queen’ since I’m actually a girl, but they’re not ready to know that yet. I might lose them and the others as my friends if they find out I’m really a girl. Cartman wouldn’t be that big of a loss, but losing Kenny, Butters, Stan, Kyle, and the others would be a huge blow. I’ll never understand why my parents force me to pretend that I’m a boy.

… Anyway, back to the flashback. I hear Craig say that they’re not playing that anymore and then Clyde said that they were all split up. What were they talking about?

(Now that I think about it, I didn’t see Kenny, Stan, Token, Tweek, or Timmy anywhere. And what did Clyde mean by they were all split up? Are they fighting again?)

I then saw Cartman holding poster showing a missing cat named Scrambles and that it would offer an award of $100 to anyone who finds Scrambles. It wouldn’t surprise me that the fatass would seize the chance to earn $100. I then heard him say something about a massive crime wave threatening our town. Some sort of crime syndicate. I then hear Clyde say that this would be too big of a problem for Coon and Friends. Cartman then asks the guys if they would rather let the Freedom Pals find Scrambles first and get the reward for their franchise.

I am just completely lost at this point. Mrs. Cartman then alerts Cartman that some sort of noise is coming from his basement. Apparently, it’s something called the Coon alert. The next thing I know, Kyle, Craig, Jimmy, Clyde, Butters, and Cartman all run out on me, Kevin, and the other two members of the Moorish tribe. Cartman just basically calls us dorks and says that we can’t play with them anymore. I try to follow him to see what’s going on but he stops me.

“Sorry Douchebag,” He snarled, “but I’m not going to let you play this game with us. Nothing you say will convince me, not even the fact that your dad fucked your mom.” He closes the sliding door of his kitchen.

(What that actual fuck! Why would he bring something like that up?)

And that now leaves me stranded in Cartman’s living room. Kevin and the others did invite me to hang out with them, but that mostly involved sulking and doing nothing. I left them at the gates of Kupa Keep and entered Cartman’s house. I noticed that there was a password lock on the basement door, so I won’t be able to get in without the code. Cartman probably has it written somewhere, but do I really want to get involved with Cartman again after last time?

I decide to try and leave his house, but that’s where the lava comes in. I can feel heat from the Lego brick lava pile covering the steps. Curse my dedication to the game. Mrs. Cartman is apparently calling the police to remove the lava from the door step.

(… Ok, we can get away with calling this lava because we’re kids, but come on! How gullible is this woman? … Come on Sally, stay focused. Maybe I can climb the fence of Cartman’s backyard to get out.) I turn on my heels and slowly walk back towards the backyard.

I suddenly hear the sound of crunching snow. I turn back towards the open door and notice a kid decked out with power tools talking into his wrist.

“Yeah. I’ll be there in five minutes Mysterion. Toolshed out!”

(Toolshed? … Wait. I recognize that voice. Is that… Stan? It is!) As he ends his call with this ‘Mysterion,’ he turns towards Cartman’s house and notices me.

“Douchebag,” I hear him say, “What are you doing here?”

The only answer I can give him is a quick glance at the lava. I had become used to being silent, since my family tries to isolate me from other people most of the time. They have been able to determine what I want to say by looking at my eyes or body language.

“Oh, that’s why,” Stan replies, “Ok, hang on. I’ll take care of it.” He then jogs over to Cartman’s garage and opens the garage door. He comes back carrying a small portable generator. I watch as he plugs in a large jack-hammer shaped tool and points it at the lava.

“Stand back Douchebag,” Stan warns, “My sandblaster is pretty powerful. I don’t want you to get hit with any lava.” I quickly nod and take two steps to my right. I hear the sandblaster reave up and the next thing I see is red bricks flying into Cartman’s living room.

“Oh, never mind,” Mrs. Cartman sings into the phone, “One of my Poopsickins’ friends took care of it.”

(… Damn this woman.)

“You can come out now dude,” I hear Stan declare. I pull myself away from the wall and walk out of living room. I greet Stan with a grateful smile. He smirks at me while twirling an electric drill with his fingers as if to say ‘You’re welcome.’ I get a better look at his costume and I have to say, it’s awesome. He’s equipped with yellow eye glasses, a white t-shirt, blue jeans, black and red tennis shoes, red and black gloves, and a utility belt.

(Hey! He’s not wearing his hat! That’s a rare sight.) I notice him looking me over.

“Dude, why are you dressed like that,” Stan questions. I wasn’t wearing the costume given to me during our raid on the Fortress of Darkness. I basically looked like Jesus without the beard he is usually seen with. My costume now consisted of black tennis shoes, blue jeans, a light blue t-shirt, a red cape, and a crown. I point towards Cartman’s backyard, showing Stan the castle of Kupa Keep.

“I thought we stopped playing that when Cartman threw the Stick of Truth into Stark’s Pond,” Stan replies.

(I thought it had more to do with the fact that Kenny became a Nazi zombie and nearly killed us.)

We didn’t exactly stop playing the game. After saving Kenny by farting on his balls, we ended the war and united the kingdoms to form the Fighters of Zaron. I was crowned a king, but I was considered lower in rank to Cartman and Kyle.

I then see Kevin and the other two boys walk out of Cartman’s living room.

“Well, I’m gonna go play Star Trek VR,” Kevin says with excitement, “Bye Johnny. Bye Andre.” He waves goodbye before walking towards his house.

(Oh. Their names are Johnny and Andre. Good to know.)

I guess Andre and Johnny don’t see me and Stan since they start walking in the same direction as Kevin, probably back to their houses.

“Who just switches games like that,” Andre questions.

“Yeah, we could’ve had an epic showdown between us and the king,” Johnny mutters. I slightly frown as I watch them leave. I guess Stan notices because he places his hand on my shoulder. I turn my attention back to him and give him a gentle smile, letting him know I’m alright.

“Sorry you got kicked out dude,” Stan says, “Honestly, I don’t know why Cartman didn’t let you in. You kicked some serious ass on our past quests.”

(Maybe he’s still butthurt that I fought for Kyle and kicked his ass during the raid of the school. I guess the fact that my class was a Jew didn’t help either.)

“Say, how about you join Freedom Pals with me and the guys” Stan askes, “I’m sure Doctor Timothy would welcome a new member. Stan holds out his hand to me and offers a warm smile.

(I always liked playing superheroes before moving to South Park. And it’s been a while since our last group game.) I grin and quickly nod my head. I grasp Stan’s hand for quick handshake and the next thing I know, Stan is leading me away from Cartman’s house and towards the Freedom Pals’ base.

Note: This is a fanfiction I started a few years ago that I want to get back into writing. It was on fanfiction.net but I haven't been back in years. These chapters will be slightly different due to grammer corrections or story changes that I thought were needed. If anyone has issues with these stories, please message me and I will fix them.

#the fractured but whole #south park #new kid sp #freedom pals #toolshed #fanfic #my writing

[cutie-shouta]

Chapter .22 Too Close To Home

After the events of the cyclops fight the band of adventurers would make their way to a guild to ensure the safety of their party and the supplies which was returned safely along with the animals however the situation was handled there was still the aftermath of what the cyclops did so the outpost would begin to rebuild now with the cyclops out of the picture

Aless: you know?? We should visit the elven kingdom sometime??

Yuka: eh?? You kidding we go back there Nova's father is gonna rip her throat out for even leaving?? Doesn't help he doesn't much like me due to convincing her mother to let her have some freedom I mean come on who wouldn't want this??

Munchkin: I-I would like to go there..?

Yuka: hm..? Well maybe I can have a spot for you little buddy

Yuka would run her hands through the fur on his head and with a bright smile he would give her a soft nod

Kratos: what's all this talk about the elven kingdom??

Yuka: these two idiots wanna go see it??

Munchkin: hey!!

Yuka: I'm only kidding dear

She smiled towards munchkin to see Nova come approaching with a large tray of food for the group and setting it on the table

Nova: I say we don't go home

Nova would give a laugh along with Yuka who spoke immediately after

Yuka: I think it would lead to a more positive outcome for the party's relations with other places??

Aless: so long as we don't go to Alexandrian we should be fine?? Well you three should be fine

Munchkin: isn't that the place with that mean queen??

Yuka: yes it is munchkin but don't worry she won't be involved in any of our adventures

Nova: well I could make an exception to going there..? So long as my dad isn't around

Kratos: what's wrong with him??

Nova: oh he despises humans with his whole soul

Aless: ah a racist??

Yuka: alright can you not say that around me you dumbass?? You know I work for the guy

She would smack Aless against the chest and begin to eat the meal before them in which they would spend about a whole hour just enjoying and drinking at the guild as time went on Yuka would soon make a suggestion

Yuka: how about this?? We take you three to the elven kingdom? And in return you can take us somewhere of human culture?? Hmmm??

Aless: I'd be down for that offer??

Nova: well..?

Nova would look towards Kratos would just have a sigh and scoffed at the idea

Kratos: sure.

Nova would smile and give Kratos a soft hug before jumping from her seat and retrieving her things as did the rest of the party and they'd make their way off to the elven kingdom however after the long trip on their mounts they would come to a stop to see the illusionary barrier for the elven kingdom was gone

Nova: oh no..?? Mom!?! Dad!?!

Nova would go rushing ahead of everyone as Yuka would go rushing behind trying to keep her from getting herself killed however upon entering the kingdom it was all in disaster, destruction, and more rushing their way up to the castle gates only to see the gates were blown off its walls and left laying within the castle's entrance as she rushed her way to the throne room she would find massacred guards, and warriors in the throne room however she was met with a rather gruesome sight every single guard, and royal protector was found murdered in very cruel ways all that remained was a simple magic crystal against the ground

Yuka: you can't run in like that!!! Are you-? Whoa..

The others would come rushing up behind Munchkin hiding behind the large fighter Kratos and Aless, Nova would waste no time to grip the crystal and crush it and out came a message just for the adventurers

Harvor: Too those who do not understand yet indeed I destroyed your home archer. And showed them all the power of what a real demon looks like. And now I hold your mother and father hostage. Should you want them to return you will head out to the Gnoll Waste where you can fight your parents and their lives intact tho that may not be for long after all you all understand how Unsafe the Gnoll Waste can really be.. should someone intervene with its ecosystem??

Kratos: this fucker is psychotic??

Nova would yell out in anger smashing the rest of the crystal against the ground where Yuka would grab onto her and force her down to her knees while Nova would simply break under Yuka's grasp

Kratos: hm.. we can get them back. I won't let that fucker get away with this..

Kratos would step towards them over the bloody and cruel scene walking up to them and kneeling in front of Nova who would latch onto kratos with a rather very tight hug

Void: ahhh.. the Gnoll Waste.. home..

Munchkin: home..? L-like you come from there??

Void: indeed young one maybe if we can find my bones I can help with this demon problem..

End of Chapter .22

[thesummerstorms]

Anyway, I'm still revising this character as I explore the game and learn the lore. I started with a Mystra/Sage background for this cleric, knowing only minor spoilers about Mystra and Gale and because I myself love the whole magic librarian lore seeker thing.

But through play, I think she actually fits better as a cleric of Elistraee with an Acolyte or Folk Hero background.

(I still want to keep her a Tempest Domain Cleric despite Elistraee being typically light/life/nature. But I can probably spin something thematic about her finding beauty/the representation of freedom in lightning and a good storm.)

Her name is still Sylereth for now, even though I really want to change it.

I probably will keep her with Wyll as she's come out pretty Ace, so his slow, romance-focused relationship works.

The background I've developed: She's dramatically less traumatized than most of her companions.

Sylereth's relationship with her mother is messed up. Her mother being Malthenes Thalwest, high Priestess of Corellon, a 600 something year old elf who has come to see the shorter lived races as dismissively, and has some background Rhea-from-Fire-Emblem scheming/social domination/manipulation going on.

But her mother left a good portion of her actual raising to two of the Temple retainers, Pelingail Gilroch, a former mercenary (Eldritch Knight), and her platonic husband, Faelon Dinalagos, a grumpy clerk with a penchant for music and cantrips. Their support sheltered and nurtured Sylereth where her mother wouldn't, and she's relatively well adjusted because of it.

Her mother absolutely has some scheming plan involving her, and was coldly furious when she ran off from the Temple of Corellon with a member of Pelingail's old crew and eventually became a cleric of Elistraee. But she's biding her time because elves are so long lived and she sees Sylereth as basically a rebellious young adult in her mid/late 200s. So far, Sylereth hasn't actually had to confront whatever is going on there, though she still gets weirdly passive and restrained at the mere mention of her mother

Prior to the game she had just landed in Baldur's Gate at the request of another cleric, and was rooming in the lower city in the spare room of a sweet, elderly half-elven land lady. She loathed the smells of the city, but her land lady kept chickens and quilted and baked on the regular, and it was all very homey.

Pelingail absolutely shows up looking for her in Act 3, scimitar in hand and shouting a very long lecture in Elvish that has Jaheira cackling. Sylereth is mortified, even though the other companions with her don't speak Elvish. The tone is enough, and Gale won't stop smirking.

#bg3

[rubysunnday]

it’s a bugs life | bridgerton!sis

A/N: I. AM. BACK, BITCHES!!!

Gregory Bridgerton had a slight obsession with animals and bugs. He loved the bugs he found in the garden of Bridgerton house, often collecting the caterpillars and spiders to put in shoeboxes that then lived in his room. Most of his family refused to go into his room when there were bugs within its walls - Gregory had a habit of forgetting to close the doors or lids of whatever receptacle he’d put the bugs in and they often escaped for freedom, ending up in, normally, Daphne’s room - but Colin and Y/N were the two exceptions.

Colin, thanks to his numerous travels, had a soft spot for animals and bugs, like Gregory, and was the main sibling who helped Gregory in capturing and looking after the bugs they found in the garden.

Y/N didn’t mind bugs. She did, however, hate spiders and refused to be in the same room as one - there was an infamous incident a few years back where she’d fallen down the stairs in a desperate attempt to escape a spider, narrowly avoiding smacking her head on the floor thanks to Anthony’s diving catch.

Colin and Y/N’s unfazed nature towards bugs meant that Gregory favoured them both when he need help capturing a bug or animal. Y/N had been roped in to numerous muddy and rainy escapades to collect frogs or worms - she’d ruined many dresses much to her mother’s annoyance - but she secretly enjoyed getting dirty and cold and being able to see Gregory admire the bug in his room and name it something ridiculous. 

The funniest bug incident had involved Anthony, Benedict and a baby bird.

 It’d been a particularly stormy day and Anthony had forbidden Gregory from even thinking of going outside to collect any type of bug. Anthony had sat down in his chair with a satisfied smile, knowing that his little brother wasn’t going to come back in covered in mud with a dozen new bugs.

Naturally Gregory hadn’t listened.

Y/N had been quietly reading a book in the main room when she’d noticed her youngest brother sneak down the stairs, several shoeboxes in hand. She looked over at Anthony, who was having a passionate ‘discussion’ (”It’s not an argument, Y/N,” Anthony said, whilst glaring daggers at Colin, “it’s a discussion”.) with Colin about why he couldn’t just flounce off to Wales for the week, and shut her book, quietly sneaking out the second door and following after Gregory.

“Gregory,” Y/N hissed as she caught him struggling to unlock the back door in the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

Gregory turned around and batted his eyes, looking like an angelic, innocent angel and not a mad, bug obsessed annoying human. “There’s a frog.”

“You have a frog,” Y/N replied, crossing her arms. “Why do you need this one?”

Gregory paused. “Well, there isn’t actually a frog,” he tried again. “I was looking out the window and spotted this baby bird on the ground, hiding under a bush.”

“Bird’s like the rain, Gregory,” Y/N reminded him, pushing herself up onto the counter near the door. “Besides, its mum will probably come back soon.”

“I don’t think it will,” Gregory said, leaning in to Y/N as if he was about to whisper a huge secret. “Its wing looks broken and I saw a fox.”

Y/N sighed and closed her eyes. She needed to not be so easily roped into things. She needed to build up a wall that couldn’t be broken and that no one could -

“Fine,” she said, jumping off the counter and grabbing the gardener’s jacket from the hook by the door. She pulled it on, buttoning it up as high as it would go and pulled the hood up. “Fine, come on.”

The wind ripped the door out of Y/N’s hand and it slammed against the wall. She ushered Gregory out the house and then forced the door shut, pulling it against the wind. Gregory quickly made a beeline to a bush near the side gate, kneeling down in the wet, muddy grass and setting his shoebox underneath the bush.

Y/N, knowing her dress was already ruined by this point, knelt down next to him, feeling the mud seeping through the material of her dress. The hood of the jacket had been blown down and her hair was soaking wet and falling out of it’s intricate styling.

Underneath the bush, cheeping nervously at them, was a tiny, baby bird. It’s left wing was hanging down slightly and looked to be at an awkward angle. Y/N reached her hands out and gently held out a finger for the bird to inspect. It hopped back a few steps, nervous of the newcomer in front of it. After a moment it hopped forward and cheeped, nudging Y/N’s finger.

Y/N took that as a sign and cupped her hands together, gently scooping the bird up and placing it in the shoebox which Gregory was holding out for her.

“Gregory!” 

Gregory swung around, falling on to his bum, at the sudden roar of his name. Anthony was marching towards them, struggling to keep his rain jacket on, holding the hood over his head as he glared at Gregory.

“I told you not to come outside!” Anthony yelled, pointing a threatening finger at Gregory.

Gregory looked down at the ground. “But -”

“No, there is no excuse -” Anthony trailed off as Y/N turned around, cradling the shoebox against her and protecting it from the worst of the rain. “Y/N.”

She gave him a wince of a smile. “Hello.”

Anthony looked like he might explode. “Inside, now.” He pointed a finger to the door but didn’t look away from his rebellious siblings. “Now.”

Gregory quickly stood up and ran inside, slipping on the step as he took the corner too fast. Y/N slowly stood up, shivering as the rain and wind began to get colder.

“Y/N, what were you thinking?!” Anthony yelled as she stepped around a puddle and approached him. “Out of all people -”

Anthony’s rant was cut off again as the biggest clap of thunder Y/N had heard in years went off directly over their heads. Y/N flinched and slipped on the grass, reaching an arm out to Anthony, refusing to let go of the shoe box.

Anthony grabbed her arm with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist, catching her before she fell into the mud. As soon as Y/N regained her footing, he marched her inside, pushing her inside the door and then slamming the door shut behind them.

Benedict was drying Gregory off with a towel and looked up as Anthony slammed the door. He let out a snort of laughter at his bedraggled brother and quickly looked away at Anthony’s scathing glare, busying himself with drying Gregory’s hair.

“What were you two thinking?” Anthony yelled, throwing his hands up. 

Y/N turned away from Anthony, only half listening. She set the shoebox on the counter and gently lifted the lid. 

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?” Anthony snapped. He went to continue his rant but was cut off by a quiet cheep. Anthony closed his eyes. “Please tell me that wasn’t a bird.”

“It wasn’t a bird,” Y/N and Gregory replied in unison, both giving the other a knowing smirk as Anthony let out a long, despairing sigh that only a big brother, who’d been putting up with his siblings for too long, could make.

Y/N picked the box up, turning around and showing her older brothers the tiny bird. “Gregory found it. It’s injured. I couldn’t leave it out there to be eaten!” Y/N exclaimed. She lowered her voice, nodding her head at Gregory. “He was going anyway, Anthony.”

Anthony took a step forward and looked down at the baby bird in the box. The bird cheeped as it noticed Anthony and hopped into a corner, burying itself in the moss.

Anthony sighed again. He looked over at Benedict, who had an arm around Gregory, the younger Bridgerton clinging to his side as he shivered.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Benedict said, shrugging. “We can get the gardener to look at it tomorrow morning.”

Anthony looked like he wanted to murder all three of his siblings. “Fine. Y/N get changed.”

And with that, Anthony took the shoe box containing the baby bird and disappeared from the kitchen.

“Did he just... did he just take the bird with him?” Y/N asked, staring after her brother with a frown.

Benedict chuckled, letting go of Gregory and wrapping a towel around Y/N’s shoulders. “He has a soft spot for animals, really,” he replied, rubbing her arms with the towel as she shivered. “Now, go get changed before you get ill.”

The baby bird was soon named ‘Anthony’ in honour of the eldest Bridgerton who had subconsciously adopted it for the few weeks it spent in his room as its wing healed. 

There had been numerous other bug incidents over the years. Y/N had fallen out of a tree trying to rescue a cat, Colin had been biting by an angry swan who’d refused to be rescued from the net it’d swam into and Gregory had broken his wrist as he chased away a fox trying to eat the chickens he’d insisted on Anthony getting for Audrey Hall.

The bug incidents tend to stay at home, however. Gregory rarely tried to collect or rescue animals or bugs from any of the garden parties of receptions he was allowed to attend - probably because he was scared of getting into trouble with the hosts.

The night of Lady Danbury’s birthday ball, however, was apparently an exception to this rule.

Y/N smiled and nodded as she listened to a lord (she had no idea what his name was) talk about politics. Colin was standing next to her and was nudging her every so often when he noticed her attention span wandering to other, more interesting things - even the chandeliers were more exciting to listen to.

Someone ran into Y/N from behind and she stumbled forward, almost dropping her glass of champagne. Colin grabbed her elbow, catching her with one hand as she turned to see who’d ran into her.

“Gregory, what -”

“Help me,” Gregory said, grabbing Y/N’s hand and dragging her away from the group she’d been talking to.

Y/N barely managed to shove her glass into Colin’s hand as Gregory dragged her through the ballroom and onto the terrace outside.

“Gregory, that was actually really rude,” Y/N said as he let go of her hand and stopped running. She looked at him and frowned, noting his panicked expression. “What’s wrong?”

“A duck is chasing me,” Gregory replied, his little face looking very serious. “It’s following me around and keeps... quacking.”

Y/N snorted. 

“It is not funny!”

“Oh, it is,” Y/N replied. “Why is this duck chasing you, then, brother?” 

Gregory squirmed and Y/N’s shoulders slumped. Whenever Gregory squirmed she knew that whatever he was going to say was going to be ridiculous or stupid. There’d been a time when he’d accidentally toppled a bookshelf onto her - long story - and he’d lied to their mother and Anthony about how it had happened. But one glare (well, attempt at a glare, Y/N was on the verge of passing out and was clinging on to Colin for dear life) from Y/N had him squirming and he’d told the truth.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Gregory Bridgerton.”

Gregory reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a baby duck.

Y/N had no other word other than, “Oh.”

“It was stuck on the steps so I picked it up to help it down and then the mother duck started flapping her wings and quacking and then ran at me and I panicked and ran away,” Gregory replied, barely stopping for breath. 

Y/N let out a soft sigh and crouched down until she was the same height as Gregory. “Pass it here.”

Gregory carefully handed her the fluffy, chirping duckling. Y/N let it sit in her palm and stroked its head with her little finger. 

“Where did you find it?” She asked quietly, looking up at Gregory.

He pointed to the door the other side of the ballroom. “The pond over there.”

“Come on, let’s go put it back,” Y/N said, standing up and cradling the duckling in her hands. “It’s mum is probably worried.”

Y/N and Gregory walked back into the ballroom, weaving through the crowds of people.

“Y/N!” 

Y/N closed her eyes as her mother called her. She looked down at Gregory. “I’ll be back, go to the pond,” she said, ushering him off.

She turned around and plastered a smile to her face as her mother, Anthony, Benedict and a very unhappy Eloise approached with Lady Danbury and a man who looked slightly familiar but she couldn’t for the life of her remember why.

“Y/N, dear, this is Mr Williams,” Violet said, gesturing to the man next to her.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Y/N said, remembering that she’d danced with the man last week. “We danced together at Lady Christy’s ball, last week, didn’t we?”

Mr Williams nodded. “We did indeed, Miss Bridgerton. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Mr Williams held out a hand and Y/N suddenly remembered that she was, in fact, holding a duckling in her hands.

“Can you just give me a minute?” She asked. “I’m sorry.” 

She slid past Anthony and her mother, ignoring their confused stares, and quickly walked to the door Gregory was hovering at. She was vaguely aware of the fact her mother was sending Anthony and Benedict after her but the duckling in her hands chirped and she focused on the pond and the fact that she was still holding a duck in her hands.

Gregory led the way down the stairs and halted suddenly. The mother duck and eight other ducklings were at the bottom of the stairs. The mother duck quacked loudly and hissed.

“Alright, it’s ok,” Y/N said softly, slowly walking forward to the mother duck. She knelt down on the last step and lowered her hands to the grass. “Here’s your baby.”

The baby duckling hopped out of Y/N’s hands and quickly waddled over to its mother, chirping happily as it reunited. The mother duck quacked and turned to the pond, the nine ducklings following after it in a line.

“See, she was probably just scared you were going to take her other babies,” Y/N told Gregory, still kneeling in the grass.

“I was just trying to help,” Gregory said softly, looking wistfully at the ducks.

“I know,” Y/N said, ruffling his hair. “But how would you feel if some stranger came and took you away from mother?”

“Scared,” Gregory admitted.

“Exactly. But you did the right thing, Greg. Even if I did have to interrupt mother’s attempt at match-making,” Y/N muttered, glancing behind her at the house. Anthony and Benedict were hovering at the top of the stairs, trying to make it obvious that they clearly weren’t listening but failing impressively.

“Go on,” Y/N said, shoving Gregory back towards the house, “go annoy Hyacinth.”

Gregory smiled and ran up the stairs, pausing for a second to hug Anthony around the legs, surprising the man. Anthony hugged him back and patted his head with a frown.

Y/N stood up, wincing as her legs tingled at the sudden movement. She looked up at her brothers, both of whom were watching her with a great deal of admiration.

“What?” She asked, frowning.

“You’re a good big sister,” Anthony replied, holding out his arm to her.

“I know I am,” Y/N said, taking his arm and smiling as he rolled his eyes. “And you two,” Y/N linked her other arm through Benedict’s, “are amazing big brothers.”

“Colin will be sad he was left out,” Benedict replied.

“Colin stole my cake, he can be jealous for all I care,” Y/N muttered, remembering her cake with a fond sigh.

The obsession with bug’s never did stop for Gregory. When Colin returned from his travels, he would always sit down with Gregory and go through all the drawings and writing’s he’d done on the bugs he’d seen whilst exploring. 

For his fourteenth birthday, Y/N bought her younger brother a book with detailed drawings of every insect known to man. It’d cost her the equivalent of almost her entire dowry but the joy on Gregory’s face had been worth it. And it was on that day that Anthony realised that, maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t done such a bad job of raising his siblings after all.

#benedict bridgerton #Bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton!sis #bridgerton sister #platonic #platonic imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #how the fuck do i tag again? #imagine #sibling reader #sister reader

[critterfloozy]

Worldbuilding Notes - The Last Safe House in Rexxentrum

Just a couple of behind-the scenes notes for my fic - The Last Safe House in Rexxentrum. Read if you like, but mind the tags! (It's Astrid/OFC, explicit, and has an unhappy ending).

Reading this doesn't spoil anything for the fic, I don't think, but i honestly don't know how interesting it would be without it.

On the Location:

We never leave the house (except when we’re in Beau’s office), but I ended up designing the entire block.

Originally the house was going to be literally the last house before the city gates in Rexxentrum, but I couldn’t figure out a reason for anyone to organically mention where the house was, so that got left out. But! In my mind, it’s still there, sassily doing crimes right next to the guard checkpoint to come in and out of the city. (It also would be the last stop before some level one adventurer would leave for the wilds, or the first for someone who is looking to make it big in the city).  

Next door is the bakery - partially because most of the businesses near me that do something for at-risk or homeless youth have a baked goods component. Also - bakery ovens were huge and hot and could also be used to heat the water for bathhouses, so that would be on the other side of the bakery. And bathhouses often meant sex work, so there’s the brothel next door to that. Nearby there’s also a gambling den of some sort - for the sort of followers of Avandra that would risk worshiping an illegal god (and the house is there for anyone who is desperate and loses at the gambling den).

So that’s the community. It’s mentioned a few times that the house is in the Mosaic Ward, one of the two slums of Rexxentrum. In EGTW, the healers are sort of led to the Mudtop Ward - the other slum where illness runs rampant because of poor conditions. The mosaic ward is instead a relatively unpoliced place filled with crime, violence, and vigilantes - which honestly, sounded more like where I’d expect an illegal adventure cleric to set up shop, so.

Then there’s the makeup of the house itself. I was thinking about priest-holes and all of the various panels in Maus depicting all of the places they’d hide people, and just imagined a whole house filled with various pockets and holes - that was built that way because a smuggler built the thing in the first place The basement has tunnels out of the city. There’s eight small bedrooms on the top floor, a half-floor with four more small rooms where Mari sleeps, and then the first floor.

On being a cleric of Avandra:

So the fun part of writing this is trying to make it relatively clear that Mari is a cleric of Avandra early on, despite the fact that Mari is doing her best not to name her god or even think hard about what she does for worship. Also, Avandra is not necessarily going to be a god that the reader is going to recognize easily (I’d expect someone who is familiar with CR2 to know about Melora, the Moonweaver, the Luxon, and maybe Ioun or Bahamut - but Avandra hasn’t been super important to the story). 

Avandra is the goddess of luck, gambling, freedom, adventure, travel and trade. Mari’s community is short on traveling merchants, since they generally have to care about their reputation too much to get involved in illegal worship. The people who she ends up helping are gamblers, would-be adventurers running away from something, former adventurers, and the vigilantes who are patrolling the Mosaic Ward. For a while I was trying to figure out if the vigilantes were more like street gangs or like Reani, but decided that for Mari’s purposes, it really didn’t matter - she’s either a mob doctor or Night Nurse, but she’s not in the business of judging morality.

And the reason why it’s Avandra is because I really liked how the concept of luck freed Mari from worrying if she’s doing enough, or helping the right people. Mari’s practice isn’t going to win any sort of grants, but she also doesn’t have to spend any time writing proposals. Her help is temporary and capricious, but that’s luck for you. She’s not there to maximize the odds, she’s there to help whoever gets sent her way, however she can.

A lot of the trade involved is less about currency exchange and more about trading skills or barter. Mari is, in fact, a knowledge domain cleric - which is how she knows augury - but it’s the ‘I know a guy’ type of knowledge. Along with providing food and shelter, a lot of her evening work is connecting people who could help each other. Otherwise, her worship involves creating the starter packs that you can find in the player’s handbook to give out to would-be adventurers, performing ceremonies, food, shelter, and random healing.

The box of random cards is based on the random box of playing cards my husband has - he does close up magic as a hobby, then saves the cards from damaged decks to practice throwing them (like Gambit, or Ricky Jay). I’d imagine she gets them as tribute from the local gambling dens from time to time, and occasionally Avandra changes them to suit her needs. There are ways to use a deck of playing cards as a tarot, but it’s deliberate that, instead of a traditional spread, she’s reading meanings in poker hands. The same idea with the rolling dice -  using gambling tools are used as religious symbols. This is partially because Avandra’s the patron of gamblers, but also because they wouldn’t incriminate Mari if she is caught. 

On Mari:  

So Mari’s an Elfling (with one elf and one halfling parent). I liked the idea of Astrid getting to experience being the taller one, but not by a substantial amount (Mari is about 4’8”, Astrid is around 5’0”). There’s also the Avandra/halfling connection, and I didn’t want her to have any human parents - I didn’t want people to think that she was related to either Caleb or Allura. Plus, I liked the perspective that being mixed race but not at all human in a human dominated society would give her. If I’m going to make a character fantasy biracial, making them real-life monoracial feels a little like cheating? So she’s biracial.

(on an extremely awkward note - the physical description Mari gives of herself ends up sounding uncomfortably close to two of my ex girlfriends, but I couldn't get myself to change her height or hair color, and I really didn't want her to mention her skin tone or 3c hair as reasons why she's not sexy, and it felt weird shoehorning in other physical descriptions. Thus the Erin Kellyman reference. This is why I don't write sexytimes, typically. People read into it, and then it gets awkward.)

One of the things with Mari is that she’s relatively young (she’s in the equivalent of her 20’s), she comes from a loving family, and she still has the same worldview and values that she had as a child. Which - they’re great values, but it also means that she doesn’t fully grasp what it’s like to grapple with the problems of the worldview they grew up with. It also makes her a little naive - she doesn’t have the tools to understand the hints that Astrid is giving her about how she was indoctrinated, because she doesn’t think the Empire would abuse their own weapons. We know what happened to Astrid’s parents, but it doesn’t even occur to Mari. On a lighter note - she’s an only child, so she rightfully guesses that Bren was a former lover of Astrid’s instead of, say, a sibling. But she’s also a second generation lesbian, so she fails to consider the possibility that Bren’s a man. (it’s my favorite Mari foible, along with disliking Eadwulf because he’s too tall).

A lot of the characterization comes together in Mari’s bedroom - it’s her childhood bedroom, something that’s just her size (and would be uncomfortable for many others). She’s never had to move out. It’s hidden away, but it’s still devoid of anything incriminating - Mari’s considered the presentation of this room to others, and has designed it so it only just says ‘a person’s bedroom’. She’s a very guarded person, because she has to be. It’s also designed to put others at ease - there’s the enchanted window that she doesn’t turn on for herself (for one thing, she doesn’t want to draw attention to the room if she randomly gets raided). Mari’s work is about caregiving, and it bleeds over to how she interacts with people - and how she considers her own safety.

On Astrid:

For Astrid - the biggest problem I had was justifying her giving her real name out to a potential enemy. I’m already writing a fanfic with a minor character/OC romance, calling her by a different name through the entire fic seemed a bridge too far. The solution was - Astrid slipped up. She’s just found out that her ex/partner-in-trauma has escaped from Vergesson, and she can’t be entirely sure if she helped him escape (and then modified her memory to help protect herself) or has since found and hurt him (and then had her memory modified against her will). It’s fucking her up enough that she came up with this plan in the first place! And of course - Mari doesn’t expect her to give her own name, so.

#fanfic meta #the last safe house in rexxentrum #astrid beck

[celamoon]

Warnings: Beheading, love at first sight

Pronouns: She/her

Summary: The royal life is full of tricks, strings and flaws from ages ago, but there are still some strings that even the highest of nobles can't reach. Emperor Kusuo and Princess Y/n knew that better than anyone.

Saiki Kusuo was what many people would define as, a textbook king. He was prim, proper, and he didn’t talk to his subjects much, only listening to the messenger’s reports on what the people wanted. He was an emperor, but he felt much more like a king than anything else.

It wasn’t like Kusuo particularly wanted to be a textbook king, it was just that rumours go around quickly in the nobility and then to the commonfolk. He wasn’t allowed to leave the castle since he had psychic powers, and it was thanks to the same psychic powers that he had accidentally destroyed another empire in battle.

But it was also thanks to the same psychic powers that the actual heir to the throne ran away to start his own empire. His older brother swore that he would ‘out-king Kusuo’ and come back for revenge one day. The two kingdoms now rest in peace because of a treaty, and Kuusuke doesn’t do much other than manage his own affairs.

Kusuo’s parents had disappeared under mysterious circumstances years before any of this madness had occurred. He was crowned king a year ago, despite not having a queen by his side. His grandparents didn’t live long enough for them to see grandchildren, but they didn’t worry. The priest said that Kusuo would find himself a queen in no time.

No time became two years, and soon, the royal advisors were nagging at him to get himself a queen. They had even brought up the idea to have the king call in commoners to date, but Kusuo wanted none of that.

Then came princess Kokomi. Princess of Gardenia, the embodiment of perfection itself. Kusuo had taken one peek at her thoughts before he decided that he wouldn’t date her. Her kingdom would’ve gone to war over this, so the king agreed that he would open up applications, and that anyone who wished to become queen could submit an application. They would get one meeting with the king before a yes or a no was chosen.

News of this spread to other kingdoms, and soon, news of this reached the Sirius Kingdom. Among the listeners was the infamous princess Y/n. Though not as gorgeous as the princess of Gardenia, she was still an enigma. The title of princess was placed upon her head since a young age, and she was a princess of the people. The girl who listened to whatever complaint was placed.

“Good Morning Princess Y/n!”

“Good morning Princess!”

“Good morning Sato-san! Good morning to you too Suzumiya-san!”

“How’s the castle life so far Princess Y/n?”

“It’s been alright. I’m still trying to get mother and father to listen to the requests. I do hope that you are doing well today?”

Y/n was charismatic to the people, despised by the nobles. To them, royalty and the working class should not intermingle, and the nobles were noble because God had chosen them to be. Not because of the lies and tricks behind the curtains of perfection. Y/n had learned from a young age that perfection was not real, and that flaws were just hidden by money and wealth instead.

Perfection meant marrying a royal, and with the news of King Saiki searching for a queen, Y/n’s parents were quick to sign her up for it. It resulted in a rather large strain the family relationship, but no outsider needed to know that. The facade put up was for the public to see, and the royals to uphold.

“You’re selling me off!” Y/n screamed one particular evening at dinner.

“We are in no way selling you off. We are simply sending you to the Psi empire to see if they would accept you.” Her father booms. “Stop putting words in my mouth,”

“You are selling me off.” Y/n glares. “I don’t wish to marry a textbook king! If I’m marrying a man then I’m going to do everything at my own pace. I am no queen who will sit around while my people’s requests and complaints are ignored by the nobility and royals.”

“Y/n darling-“ Her mother tries.

“You have one month.” The king bellows. Y/n pulls on her gown and leaves the room. The outfit is quickly ditched in her room as she wanders through the passageways of the castle. She meets the exit soon, and she rushes outside, wiping off any traces of her royal blood. She runs, and ignores all the greetings as she reaches for the flower field in the outskirts. The field was behind a noble bar surprisingly enough, and information was always passed there. The girl messes up her hair and leans against the back door to the bar.

“Miss f/n,” The bartender nods, locking the door behind him. “The nobles wish to overthrow the royal family by marrying one of the noblewomen over to the Gardenia Empire,”

“Ah?” Y/n looked up from the ground. “Which noblewoman?”

“I believe they wish to marry over Madam Hinata to Prince Makoto,” the bartender nods.

“When do they start negotiating?” Y/n looks up.

“I believe they start tomorrow,”

“Alright, thank you kind sir,” She hands the bartender a bag of gold and wanders off. Even if she wanted to hate her parents, she was still their daughter. She may hate the castle, but it was her home, and she was taught to protect what mattered to her.

“Mizuki-chan grab me a horse from the palace, I want to leave this wretched place as soon as possible.” Y/n calls for her servant when she gets the animal, she hands the servant a letter.

“No one other than mother and father is to see this letter,” You slip her the letter, and then you’re gone.

The night breeze feels good on your skin. It feels like freedom, running away from your past, embracing your future. Y/n feels free, but her goal isn’t to run away, it’s to protect what was hers and to protect what will be the royal lineage’s. She had siblings, people, and a country in a corrupt noble’s hands was no better than a fragmented one.

The gates to the Psi Empire are huge. Y/n goes through several checks before she’s let in, and she continues riding until it’s early morning. She’s exhausted, but she isn’t allowed to rest until she arrives at the palace.

The crack of dawn arrives at the Psi Palace and Kusuo arises. His day runs as usual, but he’s met with a sudden emergency guest. His advisors suggest that he ignore them to continue his job, but the person’s thoughts are too much to handle and he would rather get it over with.

“Call the person over,”

Y/n wanders into the room, lifting her cloak off of her head. “Your highness,” she bows.

“… Princess Y/n…” Kusuo raises a brow. “You may rise. What brings you here to my empire?”

“King Kusuo,” Y/n nods. “The nobles in my kingdom are planning to overthrow my family from the throne. I come here to request help in repressing them.”

“Why should I help you?” Saiki raises a brow at her figure.

“My kingdom would prove to be an excellent allegiance with yours.” Y/n held her head high. “On top of that, I could be promised to you in exchange for your help. I may end up as your queen from this exchange.”

Saiki stares at the princess. She look bold, strong, yet small and kind. Her thoughts are kind, caring, and he can tell that she has the best for the commonfolk in mind. He thinks over whether or not his empire should get involved.

“However I must be honest your highness,” She bows lightly. “The nobles wish to marry off a noblewoman to Prince Makoto of Gardenia. While I have no doubts that your kingdom would be able to hold them off, I believe that it would be extra trouble making an enemy out of a kingdom that has the fairest princess in all the land.”

“I am aware,” Saiki nods. “How urgent is this matter?”

Saiki wants to turn her down, but there’s something about the fire in her eyes and the truth in her words that draws him in. He feels slightly sick thinking about all the lives that would be lost if he sent men.

“They start negotiating with the kingdom tonight,” Y/n responds.

“Will there be lives lost?”

“I can not promise that there will be none,” She shakes her head. “But I can promise that if action is taken early enough, the nobles will be repressed with minimum bloodshed. I wish not for my people to take part in a bloody civil war.”

Her words are genuine and Saiki nods. “I understand. Do you have a messenger bird at home?”

“I do,” The princess nods. “I would prefer to pass laws onto the nobles, but they hold a much higher number in the government than I would like. My only hope would be being wed to you, or perhaps crushing them by force.”

“Becoming a tyrant?” Saiki raises a brow. “Do you not believe in any other alternative?”

“Noblemen have been in power for centuries your highness. If the root of the issue is not removed, then the weeds will still continue growing.” Y/n nods. Saiki eyes the girl once more and smirks.

“Then how about a proposal? I’ll help in exchange for you by my side for eternity.” Saiki knows you’re desperate. He admires you for thinking about the number of lives potentially lost to a civil war, and he cannot think of another way that would benefit both his empire and your kingdom.

Y/n pauses to look at the emperor. “Then Emperor Kusuo, I would like to propose that we take it slow, and that I do not be touched in any way that would make me uncomfortable,”

“Then I shall announce you as my lover.” Saiki smiles. “With the announcement, a portion of the noblemen in your kingdom would start to doubt the plan, and eventually the root of the problem would be weeded out. Do I have your permission Princess Y/n?”

Y/n looks at his challenging gaze with one of equal ambition. “Of course your highness,”

The news of Princess Y/n of Sirius dating Emperor Kusuo reaches the ears of all the kingdoms at the same time. Y/n’s parents are elated, and they welcome Emperor Kusuo with open arms. The commonfolk are in ecstasy, their beloved princess marrying an Emperor.

The news reaches the Castle of Gardenia and Princess Kokomi throws a tantrum.

“How come the emperor didn’t decide upon me? I’m the perfect princess, and I’d make an even better queen!” She sobs, and her brother consoles her.

“I’m forming an alliance with the nobles in Sirius, we’ll take down the royal family and then I’ll force the emperor to submit to me and marry you,” Makoto smiles. Kokomi only sniffs and nods.

The Sirius kingdom is flourishing. Saiki and Y/n are taking it slow, but they’ve made significant progress relationship wise. The two have started going on walks, and Kusuo joined Y/n one afternoon in town. He’s surprised to find so many commoners crowd around her.

“Suzumia-san! How have you been?”

“Ah I got married recently! I’m Mrs. Sato now!”

“Sato?? That’s incredible!” You clasped your hands together and Saiki had smiled at you softly. You looked so pretty, so gentle. He could picture you as his queen.

The calm is always before the storm though. The noblewoman who was supposed marry Prince Makoto pulled on with the plan, and the two started discussing about the wedding.

“For the wedding, I would like for it to be grand. I wish for it to make a statement to the opposing empire,” The noblewoman smiles.

“Ah yes,” Prince Makoto smiled. “It shall make a statement to the other empire for sure,”

The day of the wedding is grand, there’s palace guards everywhere. Neither royal from the Psi empire make an appearance, and the noblewoman thinks she’s scared the other empire into preparing for war. The wedding itself throws the woman off guard though.

“Do you, Miss agree to the crime of treason?” There’s an evil glint in the pastor’s eyes and the Psi royal guards rush in. The family looks around in confusion.

“I applaud you for trying to take over and become queen, but unfortunately there are strings that you as a noble simply can’t pull.” Y/n walks down the aisle, wearing a pair of white trousers and a simple dress shirt. Their hair is styled, and they looked like any other palace guard.

“W-wha?”

“I applaud you for trying,” You smile. “You were mistaken to think that I wasn’t best friends with other princes and princesses,”

“Huh?!” The noblewoman looks around and both Teruhashi’s are smiling.

“I may be in love with the emperor, and my brother may despise him, but sometimes throwing innocent commonfolk into a war isn’t what we wish to do,” Teruhashi smiles.

An agreement had been reached last minute between the Kingdom of Gardenia and Sirius. Neither side would shed blood, and they would arrest the nobles and strip them of their titles. While Princess Kokomi had grown up with Princess Y/n, it was also only reasonable to not shed innocent blood. Besides, the Teruhashi’s were far relatives of the L/n’s.

“Alright now Princess Y/n, I would like to know what you’ll pay with,” Teruhashi grins playfully as she holds her hand out. She had dropped her facade in front of the princess ever since Y/n had exposed her for it.

“I’m not sure, how about I pay you with an invitation to the golden ball later this month?”

Teruhashi pretends to think before she grins. “Nope! I want your lover right there~”

Y/n gasps in shock and pretends to be offended. “I am not giving you my future husband!”

“You never know,” Kokomi grins teasingly.

The execution is the next day, the jury had unanimously decided that the nobles were committing treason thanks to Princess Teruhashi. The blood curling screams and mess created from the beheading didn’t seem to bother Princess Y/n much as she had expected it to.

The rest of the half of the month passes quickly, and soon it’s the golden ball. Y/n is in a f/c ball gown, and Saiki’s suit matches her outfit. The two spend the evening close to each other and Kusuo leaves her side for a moment.

“Your highness!” A commoner approaches her and she smiles. “Congrats on the engagement!”

“Engagement?” The princess tilts their head in confusion.

“Are you two not yet engaged?” The commoner looks confused before they gasp as they look behind her.

She hears more gasping around her. She looks around and finds her lover on the ground.

“Your highness-“

Saiki raises a brow in question at the name and Y/n corrects herself. “Kuu…”

“My darling Y/n, there would be no honour greater than to become your king and emperor. I can not think of myself with anyone else in this life, and I hope that we would last through all of our lifetimes together. From the day that I saw you, to this very second, I have never been more in love. My darling Y/n, will you marry me?”

Y/n’s eyes water and a bit of their makeup comes off. A choked out “yes” leaves their lips and Kusuo pulls the princess in for a hug. The girl feels bad for ruining her lover’s shirt but her tears don’t stop coming.

“I’ll love you for eternity,”

“As will I, your highness”

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo #kusuo saiki #my royal aus are always so bland ngl #saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki #ngl I kinda hated that header at first but it looks rlly cute now for no reason #saiki no psi nan