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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 7 months

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Astarion Very Happy Ending

So full disclosure, my Tav was a Selunite, and I can't stop thinking well if Bhaal can have a mortal chosen one, why can't Selune?

Also, spoiler warning, stop reading here if you don't want, but like damn girl I freaking turn a Shar priestess away from her god back to you, free a man from his devil's contact, high-key save the world, kill bhaals chocen, convince my vampiric lover to not sacrifice thousands of people, stop an entire goblin army from murdering Tieflings and druids alike, and literally free your daughter. A reward is in order!

This is that reward:

Astarion was slowly getting used to living in the shadows again, as loathe as he was to admit it. It was quite the transition, despite the fact that his time in the sun had amounted to less than a year. But what a lovely year it was. Nearly a perfect one in comparison to the rest of his life. And the promise of more of the same was a suitable balm to being cursed back into the darkness.

It was difficult, but with the love of his life by his side it was more than tolerable. Borderline beautiful in fact, to be able to live his life so freely despite the infuriating complications.

The money also certainly helped.

That was one thing Astarion always had over his brothers and sisters, his fantasies of a better life had always surrounded around Cazador's murder. Not his approval. He may have been completely unaware of the horrifying dungeon beneath their feet, but he did know where the deed to his estate and other properties were kept. And now had enough connections with the higher up's of Baldur's gate for some frankly exquisite forgeries. It had been a particularly satisfying feeling to sell all of his former master's possessions off, even more so when it came to the land. Almost like he was tearing apart his legacy and handing it off to the highest bitter, piece by piece.

Though, being there with you to find and settle in your own little corner of paradise was an even better feeling. Maybe it didn't quite reach his past dreams of grandeur, but it turned out settling in a quaint and poorly lit townhouse in the upper city was more than enough for him to be satisfied.

It was a good charming life, one that Astarion was sure he didn't deserve. But that certainly wasn't going to stop him from enjoying it. Though as much as he adored where he ended up, he'd be lying if he said it was perfect.

No, perfect would have been finding a way for him to ascend without becoming a monster, living in a world where he could be with you fully, completely, out in the sun like the kind of lover you deserved. It made him feel... startlingly inadequate. Everything you did had to be in accordance to his schedule. His lack of capabilities. And just because you always insisted it didn't matter didn't fix the feeling of inadequacy. He hated it, hated the fact that there were so many hours of the day that you couldn't share. He didn't regret his choice, not for a moment, but that didn't mean he was fully satisfied with the consequences.

But in his own defense, he did make up for it in other ways. Mildly frustrating and draining ways, if not a bit rewarding. It had been his own fault, falling so utterly and completely for such a goody two-shoes. A zealot to Selune, as fierce as she was compassionate, always trying to do what was fair and just. Always dragging Astarion on for the ride of her cleric duties.

But he couldn't blame you for all of his new do-gooder ways. Not when he was nearly the leader of a bizarre cult of repentant vampire spawn.

It was just the slightest bit exhausting to so often be playing the part of their heroic leader, fighting all of his murderous instincts to work for a better future for himself and the brethren he had personally damned. Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get any satisfaction from it. It felt... good to teach them new ways to live. To give them the chance at the beautiful life he had managed to secure for himself.

He wouldn't do it forever, just until he was confident enough to be sure that his departure wouldn't lead to a massacre on either side. Then the two of you would be off to explore the lands, working to do your goddesses work with just a touch of hedonistic activities on the way.

Astarion was looking forward to it. He hadn't done all that work to be selfless forever. No, he was going to be forced to insist on a few years of having you all to himself, with only the occasional bits of volunteer work for the temple as interruption. Then the two of you could go back to galivanting about the lands being local heroes. But he had earned an extended vacation.

One that, luckily, he hadn't had to fight you on too much. That was just one other thing he loved about you, your complete understanding that Astarion would always be a little selfish, especially when it came to you. The one person who had ever really been his, who loved him, who understood him, who believed in him. Could he be blamed for wanting to have you all to himself?

And admittedly, he did have you more often then not. Even if on occasion he did have to share with your beloved goddess.

Astarion sighed as he watched you pray in the moonlight, completely absorbed in your quiet, mystical chants. Despite his distaste for the length of your prayer sessions, Astarion did like seeing your more ritualistic side. Just... maybe not for the morally correct reasons.

He was well aware that being so involved with a vampire was clearly against your religious doctrine. But it didn't matter. You still choose him, despite how the knowledge nearly made you an outcast amongst your own kind. But he mattered more than your reputation, more than the lessons you had been taught your entire life regarding love and evil.

You still had your faith, but you never let it shake the faith you had in him, something that he valued more than he could ever express. It was perhaps a sick thought, but it also made him feel exceedingly powerful, to know the true extent of your feelings. Even more connected. It was almost... like he was defiling you, corrupting a beautiful flower to turn away from the sun to something even brighter. A love that Astarion doubted most could ever hope to feel.

Perhaps that was not the best outlook on your religion, but oh well. He'd keep those thoughts to himself. What you didn't know wouldn't kill you. Besides... if anyone had been corrupted it was him, plagued with a new sense of loyalty and gods, justice. All from the beautifully strange woman kneeling in the moonlight.

Though, you sure were taking awhile tonight. Nearly twice as long as your usual nightly prayer. He hated to interrupt your worship but this was starting to cut into his time a bit here.

"My dear," Astarion called out, swinging his legs over your shared bed to stand, "Don't you think that you've been kneeling there for a touch too long?"

But you didn't respond, still muttering under your breath, even faster than before.

Astarion narrowed his eyes as he walked closer towards you, confused by your lack of response, "Darling-Tav?"

Astarion stopped, eyes wide as he got a solid look at your first. Your eyes were wide open, body rim rod straight as your irises glowed a vibrant blue light.

What in the nine hells was happening? Astarion kneeled next to you, his heart in his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Tav, love, can you hear me? What is this?"

You didn't answer, you didn't even acknowledge his presence. But you did start floating in the god damn air. Astarion stared, helpless as he watched you levitate, words that he didn't understand spilling from your lips.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. You fell unceremoniously to the floor. Astarion scrambled towards you, his heart in his throat as you started to come to. He settled your head in his lap, his hands shaking as he touched your face, lost on what he should be doing.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, that angelic glow still radiating from your irises. But you didn't look frightened, more... excited.

You grinned up at him, your voice slightly cracking when you murmured, "We've been blessed."

Astarion stared at you, brow furrowed. He was happy you were alive and speaking but...

"That's lovely?" Astarion tried, "But severely lacking in terms of an explanation. Are you okay?"

You nodded eagerly, suddenly sitting up with an unexpected amount of energy, "I'll explain later, we don't have much time."

What was it that compelled you religious types to be so cryptic? But you didn't give him anytime to question. Instead you wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips together, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

He wrapped strong arms around your back, pulling you in closer, always helpless but to return your affection. But something about this was different. He could feel it, holy magic spreading through him through your lips, down throughout his veins, changing something inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant per say, but it certainly was startling. Startling enough for him to almost push you away, if it wasn't for the fact that he trusted you with everything inside of himself.

Neither of you pulled away until the blue fire in your eyes had died out, and Astarion was left with the intense sensation that something had changed, irrevocably inside of him.

You stared at each other, Astarion in confusion while you looked nothing short of gleeful, "Do you feel it?"

He felt... strange. A warmth still spreading through him that was settling. Astarion raised a brow at you, exceedingly impatient when he asked, "First, how about you explain to me what in the hells that was?"

But you didn't answer. Instead you stood with an adorable hop, lending a hand out to help him up, "Do you trust me?"

Astarion almost rolled his eyes as he took your hand, annoyed that he fell for someone that had just as much of a flair for the dramatic as he did, "You know I do."

You helped him to his feet before you started to mumble again, a startlingly familiar incantation seeping from your lips. It was the spell for daylight, the very same that you had used to help defeat Cazador. The kind that could now kill Astarion in mere moments.

He was too shocked at your audacity to even protest, believing for a split, terrifying second that he was about to die a fiery death. Sunlight suddenly filled the room, bright enough for Astarion to tightly shut his eyes.

Then...nothing. No burning, no pain, nothing but the sounds of you both breathing.

That didn't-how was he-what did you just do?

Astarion stared at you, absolutely flabbergasted with his mouth hanging open, staring at the borrowed daylight like a simpleton, "But how?"

You were still grinning ear to ear, looking happier than Astarion had ever seen you before. You grasped his hands in yours, your smile gentle as you explained, "I told you. We were blessed. Our Lady of Silver gave me one gift, and this is what I choose."

If sunlight wasn't already staring him in the face, Astarion would never believe it. But here he was, alive and standing under it's warmth. A gift from a goddess, spent on him of all creatures.

"It can't fix everything," You clarified with the slightest frown, "But it can fix this."

He could feel the truth in your words. He was still... wrong. A creature born of something awful, doomed to eternity and a life of bloodlust. But part of that wrongness had been culled, curling up and dying from Selune's holy magic, from your enduring love.

It was a dream he never thought possible. One that he had accepted never having. But here he was, here you were, continuing to give him the impossible.

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Astarion reached up, cupping your face before confessing the truth he couldn't quell.

"I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice hoarse, "I'll never deserve you. Words can't express my thanks. You have given me everything, while I have nothing but myself to give in return. But it's always yours. Everything inside of me."

He meant every word, he always would. Until his last breath.

You shook your head, gentling cooing at him, "This is a time for celebration my love, not for doubt. You've earned this."

He hadn't. And he doubted you'd ever be able to convince him he had. But he'd still take it. Gladly.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, helpless to say anything else. He pressed his lips against yours, the gravity of his new life just starting to settle in his mind.

He was free, as free as he could ever hope for. You had achieved what Cazador could not, all without a hint of malice or horrifying sacrifice. But through kindness, love, and perseverance. You had already freed him once from his own mental shackles, his last remaining ties to the tyrant that made him.

And now you've done it again, saving him from at least a portion of the taint on his soul.

It was beautiful, wonderful, and Astarion would never waste a moment of it.

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #spoilers #and that's how selune got herself a cult of 7000 vampiric spawn hoping for the same blessing #this is very fairytale romance #like mr. i'm not a fairytale prince is kind of acting like it here #or is he the saved princess?#up for debate #romance #very romantic #i think #fluff #very fluffy

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y-rhywbeth2 · 5 months

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Durge's contempt for Ketheric amuses me. For some reason I interpreted it as a sort of disgust; like my take on Durge is that they were a religious fanatic who very much existed only to serve their god. They are aware that they are a tool and extension of Bhaal, not a real person. It was a one-sided relationship where Durge gives, and if they do well Bhaal... "rewards" them with a state of ecstasy. Durge is a self-described "good child" who gives and gives and gives, desperately seeking Bhaal's love, to make him proud of them. I doubt they thought they were entitled to it, however.

Ketheric is sick of the gods and very much into religion at this point on the basis of "what this god can do for me". Selûne didn't give him what he wanted in his grief, so he betrayed her for Shar. Shar, true to her nature, didn't give him what he wanted and he went to Myrkul. He serves Myrkul because the Lord of Bones does what he wants - even though what he wants is blasphemy in the eyes of the Myrkulite faith (I dread to think what Myrkul's angle was, here, but I doubt it would've gone well for Ketheric in the end).

Ketheric is a False soul, abandoning one faith after another, and for a heavily conditioned zealot like Durge, I feel like that'd be a revolting concept.

And I think in turn, Ketheric kind of viewed them with his own brand of contempt (and maybe some pity): this brainwashed godchild, with their personhood hollowed out, clinging to their master, desperate for love that master fundamentally cannot give them.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #durge #the dark urge #ketheric thorm

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trivanvanile · 20 days

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The absolute vile behaviour of Bobby Dawn, televangelist of Sol. To show up, promising impartiality to the students and immediately punishing students of different faiths.

To take away the accommodations of a student in a specific circumstance, and then punish them for not being the embodiment of his version of success. Cassandra is alive. Kristen knows this. Others know this. She’s just not *here*. Kristen’s powers have returned and she is able to cast and perform miracles in Cassandra’s name. Her god is not dead.

And if he truly cared or desired to understand her situation, he would use any number of high level cleric spells to aid in confirming the survival of Cassandra. Instead, he belittles and shames Kristen for walking away from Helio, calling her arrogant for refusing a path laid out before her.

What’s worse is that I love his southern drawl, and the utter contempt that drips from his voice. Bleem has successfully made a character voice that is usually used in a comedic sense and made a manipulative, scheming Zealot who can destroy a person while sounding as charming as possible.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fhjy #fhjy spoilers

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lastflowerofyourhouse · 7 months

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she was a devout nun she fully believed that Some Guy™️ was god she killed herself to bolster someone else's power not once but twice we know like 5 things about her and all of them are fucked up insane she was a delight she was effervescent she was kind to animals and children she probably initiated a suicide pact which she then carried out she didn't mind being trepanned on the regular she was god's favorite sacraficial lamb she had strange and unnerving eyes and a strange and unnerving worldview she probably invented soul siphoning she was seemingly incapable of separating love from fanatical devotion she's haunting the narrative she was a zealot she was an idolator and a heretic she was the first one to figure out what needed to be done and the only one with the balls to do it and she didn't have the intellect you'd ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange. i didn't say her name but she popped into your head didn't she.

#cristabel oct #the locked tomb #tlt #my post #ntn spoilers

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yostresswritinggirl · 1 year

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Kintsugi (1)

: "to repair with gold"

Scaramouche / Wanderer x First Puppet Reader

Based off of this plot with major alterations; After his third betrayal, he stumbles upon the one thing that would never deceive him. Not a god, not a human; a broken puppet, discarded just like him. Part 2.

He had heard of this tale multiple times by now, all in different versions and walks of life.

From his bladesmith friend who recounted the tale of a statue that guards a sakura tree in a faraway village in Tatarasuna, and that those who dare harm either of the two meet a fate most foul. But he remembered it only as a made up story, ever spoken to him once as a bedtime story and forgotten soon after.

Another iteration the puppet heard was of a beautiful ghost, who had died by the tree and lingered since then as a spirit awaiting its lover. Its doll-like feature had left many humans falling for the specter, while some find it tradition to leave offerings for love and fortune. He remembered shaking his head as he turned away from the intoxicated villager, focusing on bringing the lavender melons back home.

And the last one came from someone old, with a wrinkled smile shy of teeth, and eyes perpetually closed. When the elder heard of the versions he had recounted, he could not help but laugh, despite the scathing glare sent his way.

"None of those versions are true." But how can he be so sure? "There is one more, while we cannot verify its authenticity, it is at least the first one to ever exist." And he with his straw hat followed after the mortal as they walked.

The guardian of eternal slumber, is a tale of a puppet (to this, he perked up) who wondered into the village in search of something. Upon seeing the sakura tree, they made home at its roots, dutifully waiting. Generations came and went, but neither of its visitors could ever sway it to leave.

Soon enough, the villagers began leaving items in sympathy of the lonely puppet. And if it is up to its unspoken standards, the puppet would open its eyes. Zealots began to view that gaze as divine, and preached that those who were to see it are blessed.

Gifts became offerings, and visitors all over Inazuma went out of their way for a chance to be blessed with fortune.

He and the old man found themselves in a scarce village, of rundown houses and deathly silence. "But in the greed of desperate devotees, one group decided to steal the puppet one night in hopes of monopolizing the blessings." They passed by the only house that looked functional. "Lightning struck our sakura tree and the village's lands began to lose life. The criminals were never found."

The puppet only comprehended the darkened grass flattening under their steps, dried out and crumbling from the pressure. But he could not pay it any more mind as they reached a staircase, leading up a hill where a sakura tree in full bloom resides.

"You are like them." His violet gaze turned sharp and his attempts to climb the steps stopped. "May you both find what you're looking for."

"Musings of an old man." His moves forward, fingers clenching his sleeves in contempt and anticipation. "What I'm looking for is beyond your understanding." There is no reply.

When the base of the tree slowly appeared over the horizon, the sakura tree began shedding its leaves in with the gust of the wind. And he found himself stopping at the last step upon meeting eyes with a visage.

Never had he felt such hopeful and wide gaze on him before, framed by the pink shower of sakura petals both old and new where they sat, pulling one's attention away from the dead vines and clinging dust.

But as quickly as it came, the smile on their face slowly fades.

And those eyes once brimming with hope turned to hate so searing, it burned him more than the hate in his empty chest.

"Have we truly exhausted all our options?" A passing wind felt like a gentle caress, swaying the pink petals above to a comforting, simple melody.

The sakura tree stands tall and beautiful, gaze unable to look away, its color flooding your vision successfully.

"Quell your doubts now, the proof is already in your arms." The soft cloth cradling you moves, prompting your gaze to look up, from pink to purple hues.

"It is nothing short of miraculous." She's more beautiful than the sakura tree. You blink at her, she smiles. And warm too, even more so when she cradles you closer, the softness of her embrace and kimono lulling you to sleep. "The proof of eternity."

Your face was half-buried by the silken cloths as you simply watched closely, your creator and another person's conversation passing. At one point, you reached out to take a petal that landed on your creator's sleeve. She smiles again.

"Then I shall be in your care." You curl your fingers around the petal as a soft hand covers your eyes.

"It is my duty, Ei."

Stumbling out of the dark room into an empty world shrouded by the night, you clutched the pink petal close to your chest as you set out for your creator.

Blindly stumbling in the dark, in your haste and desperation, you find your feet take you to a familiar sight. A pretty sakura tree, just as beautiful as the one you've seen. And so you sat between roots, waiting for your mother.

You haven't heard footsteps in a long time, was the first thing that came into your mind as you rubbed at your eyes with your haori. How long has it been since you last woke up?

Yet despite your tired eyes and blurry vision, that familiar shade of purple began to climb the stairs.

Could it be? After all this time, she's finally -

The weakness in your knees were more than the fatigue, as your smile fell in realization that it wasn't her.

But those eyes, that hair - that faltering smile.

There is emptiness, no purchase, no purpose - to your steps as your legs carried you to walk away from the tree, down the steps, away from here. Anywhere, anywhere else but here.

The puppet sputters as he turns to your retreating form, only for his attention to be divided as the old man found his way over to the tree, sitting on the root where he had seen you perched on.

"The sakura tree has shed its last leaf." The old man looks up at the empty branches before looking at him. "Go after them, there is nothing left here to see." And closed his eyes.

He turns to follow and never looked back.

She left you. She abandoned you. She's forgotten you. She replaced you.

It doesn't take a child to come to that conclusion and they echo in your mind repeatedly in every waking moment.

"Where are we going?" You dug your foot harshly in the sand before turning around, watching his eyes that scanned the area to land on you.

"Why are you still following me?" You watched his curious eyes widen to perplexity, lips parting and closing as he scrambles to find the right answer. Only a few seconds pass before you turn again and resume your walk.

You wouldn't be able to answer him either.

Your desire to get away from him was never answered either, opting to follow the footprints in the sand for hours upon hours. At times, you'd find yourself stumbling when your joints struggled to follow orders. You'd hear him mumble, make noise, but they stop after you brush off the incident and continue.

This was the first time he addressed you, and this was the first time you talked.

That was also the only time you looked at him - and nothing had changed. He still looked like her, the same presence, the same energy.

She replaced you?

Looking over your shoulder, you chanced another glance to see his gaze elsewhere again, as if looking out for something. Only then did you notice a transparent cloth folded, hung, and tucked beneath an arm.

"Are you certain you are fine with that attire?" His attention was on you again, looking over your form. At your glare, he seemed to backtrack after realizing the misunderstanding. "I mean no harm, I'm simply mentioning due to your... Exposed joints and the petals hanging on your form."

If you could only see yourself in his perspective. Perhaps it was due to being divine creations but despite the unsightly details that clung to you (no doubt due to time), there is still a magnificence to you that made you look ethereal.

He supposes that would make sense, as you are worthy of folklore and tales.

He watched as you gingerly rubbed at your left wrist's joint (he had yet to see you ease your curled up left hand) while his eyes lingered on the pink sakura blooms that's found home in your hair and the folds of your clothes.

Whenever he closed his eyes, it feels like he's still standing next to the sakura tree, the sweet scent permanently lingering so long as you're nearby. It's soothing.

With a raised brow, you looked at him with questioning eyes. A good sign, and he finds that you looked much better without a glare.

"Not all humans are open to the concepts of our existence." The gloom fading the light in his eyes doesn't sit right with you. "It would be best to cover up."

It was only then that you noticed the black arm guards conveniently covering his wrists. But what can you use to hide them here?

Watching your eyes scan the area for something, the second puppet stepped close and unfolded the cloth in arm to reveal a very long but beautiful veil. "While it's still transparent, it should be good enough to at least camouflage it." What a beautiful shade of purple. "May I?"

You do not miss the eagerness in his eyes, hands clutching the cloth in waiting. It's the best you can do for now, you thought as you bowed your head.

He was expecting a glare, a refusal, anything to dispel his suggestion. But the moment the agreement registered in his head, he quickly but carefully draped the veil over your head like he had worn before.

You gasped when the cloth almost slipped off when you straightened up, only for his hands to pull it over again. "Careful, perhaps we can find pins to keep it in place."

Your gaze lingered at the hands close to you. Porcelain white and perfectly unharmed. You reached up - with a hand littered with cuts and creaky movement - before pushing his hands off as you turn to walk again.

You hear him gasp, pause, and his footsteps follows behind you again.

She may have replaced you.

But she abandoned you both.

He doesn't miss the way you pull the veil over your face whenever you look at him.

Even now when you accept the lavender melon slice to eat. At one point, he had forgotten that puppets need not eat, but before he could fix his mistake you took the food and ate like normal.

Perhaps you had gotten used to the offerings given to you back at the village, just like how you carried the mora you received despite not knowing how to use it. Something you easily lent him at the promise of necessities.

His eyes lingered on your wrists and ankles where the black guards now cover it. And then to the veil that had lost its purpose, or at least, its initial purpose. (With his kasa, he also sees no purpose to take it back.)

He also bought you a new yukata to replace your old one but - "It's still not fully dried, it seems." His eyes lingered on the damp purple haori he had hanged on one of the branches, the only clothing you refused to part with. He took the liberty to wash it seeing as he knew how to, and he was more than estatic when he realized the scent of the sakura blooms still stuck to it.

That, and there's not much one can do with just one hand.

Sitting next to you, he watches as the hand resting on the grassy floor hides underneath the veil. Still clenched to a fist, still hiding.

He must have been staring obviously when you finally spoke. "I can't open it."

His eyes met your veiled ones before looking back to your hand - and then he quickly looks away despite his gaze still glancing in the corner of his eyes. He's flustered for being caught, you recognize the shyness.

"Then... Can I try and help with prying it open?" He is too curious for his own good.

Despite your nod, you make no move to pull your hand from under the veil. More so, you simply looked back to watching the clouds pass. Alright, it's up to him then.

Mumbling a please excuse me, he swipes the veil away to take your hand. He feels a slight flinch but continued on without any other sign of discomfort.

Your fingers are stuck close. He knows it's not intentional when there's no tension in your arm that indicates you're forcing it closed. So you weren't lying, he pursed his lips as he began nudging and uncurling each finger.

For each digit he takes time to flex each section to alleviate the jagged, mechanical movement. Before he could lose himself to the tender proximity, something on your finally open palm catches his eyes.

A sakura petal. Creased on some places but still looking fresh.

"Mother..." He sees you mouth before the fingers slowly curled around the pink blossom.

He doesn't ask anything further. Not when his feather necklace weighs heavily in his own pocket.

"Why are you still here?" You ask again. This time, he does not miss the question you wanted to ask.

This time he speaks. "I would never abandon you." Because you only have each other now.

It was your turn to become quiet.

Only the wind through the leaves dared to break the silence.

Sora. Sakura. Aoi. Haru. Hana. Kami.

You bow your head to look at the black fan in your hand. Sensu.

Feeling the gaze of someone's attention on you, your furrowed brows deepened as you unfolded the fan to cover the lower half of your face, turning to the other puppet sitting by the hill with you.

His purple gaze took time to register the eye contact that told him he was caught staring, and when he did his small smile faded in his fluster, turning to hide in the open book he was supposed to be reading. Was he basking in your frustrations? Perhaps he was, especially since it was his own doing that caused this turmoil to begin with.

In your wandering, you came across a bustling small town that he decided to walk through instead of around for once. Mostly because of the approaching rain clouds that threatens to soak your perfectly dry selves, and through your joints and cracks - there was an incident before that he didn't want to deal with again, didn't want to be careless of your condition when it not only deterred you from properly functioning but from also looking at him with kinder eyes.

But the pretty stalls, the whispers and shouts, it was all drawing your attention. He learned from the long trips you two had done that there was a lot of things you have yet to discover, see for yourself, after staying by the Sakura tree for hundreds of years. A festival seems to be one of those.

He took note of the way your eyes lingered on interesting things, familiar objects, counted your pocket money and bought what might look cheap enough to spare. Like a kanzashi that you used to fasten the veil to your haori, a stick of tricolor dango that he gently blew on when he thought it was still too hot.

And lastly - he watched your gaze linger on a black folding fan in display, eyes solemn in comparison to the other many things that caught your eye. He can tell why, simply because he knows what it meant too. His memories with her are far and few but he remembers them in full detail, they haunt his dreams every night, after all. "We should -"

"I... want that fan."

Only when you finally looked at him with furrowed brows (mayhaps due to impatience) did he finally make his way forward to address the vendor. "Only 300 mora." More than what he wanted but he it won't be a huge loss. "If you add 100 mora, I can also write on the fan. Do you want your name on it?"

His grip on the pouch tightened, sending a glare to the vendor that she conveniently misses in her sole attention focused on you. Still that same sales lady smile, how irritating she lacked the common sense to read the room.

"Ah, perhaps you didn't want to share your name, you two do seem like you're not from around here. How about -"

"We only need the fan, you annoying hag." Throwing the coins on the stall, the pristine puppet roughly snatched the fan away and pulled you away, far from the village and far from any stupid human who might catch on to the hateful sneer hidden by the shadow of his hat.

That was hours ago, and the moon replaced the sun by now. Tsuki.

It was time for rest, if you can call it that. Carefully folding the fan close, you lean back against the tree trunk as the stars above began to shine, a familiar sight you've seen more times than you can count. You close your eyes all the same.

You never sleep. It was something that he had discovered only some time ago when nightmares would find him instead, and his frazzled mind would notice your eyes on him every time he awakens. And many times he wonders if you simply do not trust him to be vulnerable in his presence.

Yet you would always answer when he tests the waters, and the one time he tried to sneak up on you, a tight grip on his wrist immediately pulled him away. He remembers the fear and the pain, the same ones reflected in your eyes that followed him in his unfortunate nights.

He thought he would never be able to sleep too when the fear of finding out that his dreams were true when he wakes up kept him from dozing off.

But one night when he thought the long silence of the night would accompany him once again, a comforting melody slowly coaxed him to the land of dreams so easily. When he turned to you with barely open eyes, you barely moved, the expressions on your face only privy to the moon and the stars and the veil that hides you.

That was the only time he wished he could take it away from you.

That same lullaby echoed tonight and you opened your eyes, turning to the other puppet to see his lids closed, concentrated on recreating that same melody he had only heard briefly. Somehow, you mused as your eyelids slowly started to droop, his voice soothed the nightly song more. So peaceful.

And it would turn softer in your dreams, as soft as the silk that wraps around you, as soft as the petals that lands on you, as soft as the woman that calls for you.

When he woke up, he saw the start of the beautiful sakura shower, the blooms finally cascading to color the sea of green he laid on. He sees why you can never look away when they are in full bloom, just as he couldn't look away from your form that watched on with eyes full of life.

"What's your name?"

His hand brushes against the book he took from the village as he sits up. "Kunikuzushi." The rustling leaves made your mutters incoherent, but his eyes do not betray him when he saw your lips move to test out the syllables.

"What about yours?" Your gaze slowly left the sakura tree to watch 'Kunikuzushi' make his way over. "Have you made up your mind?" Despite looking forward, his purple hues would occasionally flicker to you in obvious anticipation.

The dream in a thousand restless nights speaks to you clearer now, and you mimic that word, that name.

"(Y/N)." He let it roll off his tongue in a deliberate manner, with such wonder and awe so child-like the first time you met. 'Kunikuzushi' dropped the facade to hide his elation and smiled freely this time. You turn your head to look back at the Sakura tree. "It sounds pleasant, it suits you."

You pull the veil over your face for good measure.

Only when the last petal fell from the tree did you finally step away with purpose, hand in crumbling hand with Kunikuzushi, never looking back.

Too sleep-deprived and sick to write anything else so you get this early. Part 2 releases either the next day or the day after that.

@deepdinosaurwizard @local-mr-frog @angryhope @rowielol @shoujishu @notyuki @asteriacos @willburzone @crystalcosplays @hxqlou @rolo-at-midnight @ireallylikehamsters @crxwned-mxnarch @reveltica @seddiepilled

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #exile.flower #exile.pocketwatch #genshin impact angst #exile.reader #gender neutral #another case of drabbles that should have stayed as drabbles #sumeru arc

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penny-anna · 25 days

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@snaitf recommended i check out this production of JSC on youtube so i gave it a watch & had a really good time!!

i found Judas a little underwhelming (sadly) but every else very on point. really great vocal performances. will probably listen to this one through again.

soo let's rank it:

How do they style Simon Zealotes?

costuming very minimal throughout so taking that into account yeah this is a good look ✔️

How camp do they play Herod?

ok uh. due to the above mentioned minimal costuming i wasn't expecting much from this but uh

the fuck?

this is where the entire costuming budget went huh dghfdkjghjk

anyway. she was a delight & the whole number was mesmerisingly weird & jarring in a way i've only seen before in the 2000 production. no notes 10/10 ✔️✔️✔️

How’s the high note?

ok this production as a whole has a very heavy emphasis on vocal performances BUT he actually acted the hell out of this number. big tick. ✔️

How do they stage Judas taking the money?

boo 👎i realise this is a very minimal production but they couldn't spring for 1 prop for this scene. c'mon. nothing wrong w the performances we just don't actually see him take the money!! ❌

How’s Judas’s Superstar outfit?

ok i don't actually love this as a look but in keeping w the rest of the production i think it's appropriate so i'll give that a ✔️

How gay is the betrayal with a kiss?

so at first i was like boooo bcos Jesus said the line but they didn't actually kiss??

but no turns out they'd just made the intriguing decision to switch the order on the line & the kiss. anyway this whole production is pretty firmly platonic (which is fine) but the kiss is very soft & tender so i'm giving it a pass ✔️

anyway some other things i enjoyed:

this is a tiny detail but one i don't recall seeing before, they had the line 'come on god, this is not like you' in the arrest scene delivered by Simon?? i love that actually.

Mary Magdalene is so so beautiful & has the voice of an angel im in love with her

Pilate played by a woman is a new one on me. im VERY into it. took me a little while to click w her bcos she started out playing it very villainous but by the end im like actually that was all pitch-perfect. loved it.

Mary fully scream-crying through the crucifixion was another choice i haven't seen before and honestly. harrowing to watch.

#jesus christ superstar

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yourplayersaidwhat · 1 year

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I asked for this

Context: Well before session 0 of this campaign I approached my dm about my character. She is a "human" (technically undead) zealot barbarian/phantom rogue. I pitched the idea that she doesn't remember much of anything about her past, except she sold her soul to her god on the battlefield so she could continue fighting. Only for that god to keep bringing her back to life to serve his bidding. DM loved this. We joked about how healing abilities like cure wounds should harm instead of heal cause . Then decided lets do it. So we both agreed to this character, and I love it. DM and I agreed we should inform them about the healing thing ahead of time.

The Session DM: Alright. How are you doing?

Me: 5 hp I'm doing fine.

DM: Great. Alright [Druid] your move.

Druid: Ok. First, bonus action healing word on [Me]. That's 6 not too bad.

Me: Whelp.

DM: Alright. So. Druid. You cast healing word, and you notice something strange. Instead of the bright light you usually see as it hits [Me] it curls into this disgusting dark color.

Me: And I fall over?

DM: Indeed you do.

Party: *Freaks out*

Druid: THAT SHOULD HAVE HEALED HER WHAT HAPPENED?

Paladin: I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T RECOGNIZE THIS?

Me:...

DM: ...

Me: We forgot to tell them didn't we.

DM: I think we did.

Paladin: FORGOT TO TELL US WHAT?

Me: So.... Cause she's undead--

Bard: SHE'S UNDEAD?!

Me: We thought it'd be funny to have healing spells harm her, and necrotic damage heal her... sorry we meant to tell you guys.

DM: I'm blaming you.

Me: Fair.

DM: Ok, [Druid] I'm letting you redo your turn, cause I swore one of us told you.

Druid: Uhhhh oh ha! I have wither and bloom! So if I attack [Me] with the necrotic I can heal another character?

DM:.... I'm starting to hate that I agreed to this.

Me: NEW HACK!

#shit my players say #dnd #rpg #submission #shareable

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vodid · 4 months

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building upon an upcoming au with a spark color scale for.. reasons... in which the closer a descendant of primus you are, the golder your spark. pure gold is an immediate child of god. while the farther your lineage goes, the bluer it becomes

(spark range not drawn to scale. i'm sure it'd take a LOT of generations to get through it like that. but id think its easy to get through the gold; its the blue that has a wider range)

both are positive in their own ways. child of god? you are cherished. have a deep cool blue spark? you have impressive ancestry.

most cybertronians are in the far blue range as cybertron has a lot of history to it, and it could be in such a way that gold has become entirely obscure, only known through word of mouth and could have even ended up a myth to many. religion would uphold this legend (ugh y'all know i LOVE me some gold halo iconography and this would be SO fun to play with) but we all know how deep a religion runs through someone can vary, from entirely atheist to devout.

i can also see more extremist religions twisting it a little bit, in a sort of "the bluer your spark is, the farther from primus you are and thus the more of a sinner you are" and potentially to a point where your bloodline "should be removed from the world." or if you have a gold spark, you MUST have some religious duty to fulfill. primus sent you for a reason. the closer to gold it is, the more expectation there is for you to become a religious figure. this could lead to an actual pattern in differences of religious devotion between those with golder and bluer sparks, which in turn could affirm zealots even more (your spark is blue? no wonder you're not a follower of primus. shameful!)

the thing that really ruins that perspective though is the matrix. it doesn't discriminate against spark color when choosing its prime (have a gold spark? you're closer to primus. have a blue spark? your lineage has made you strong. have a spark in between? you have the past and the future with you.) even if the matrix might not be the will of primus himself, it is the will of his direct children, the original primes with sparks of the purest, untouched gold.

perhaps, despite how private sparks are (unless you are a religious figure), some may decorate their spark casing in a way that stained glass could give their sparks the appearance of a golder or bluer spark, depending on what they want. it can be easy to balance it to a silver, which can really hide which color they are

but don't be fooled, most do not care as they generally have a similar blue in the current day and age. your spark could be cyan, it could be pushing the lines of indigo, but at the end of the day, it's not gold. maybe you'll see a silver in the temple, maybe you'll see a priest with the barest hint of a gold tinge, but not many who have yellower sparks are left. (not to say NO religious figures have blue sparks. many, many do and even a prime may have the deepest blue anyone's seen)

it really doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things unless you're the purest of gold, which nobody is ...at least, not for a while.

now the super fun issue is: cybertronians, in a post-apocalyptic world, would have no idea if gold means a child of primus. or a child of unicron. ;3c

#i like the idea that primus and unicron are split spark twins specifically #so while they are opposites they do come from the same gold spark and you would not be able to differentiate #polaris au #long post #excited to delve into this in my au and assign everyone a spark color LOL #i hope this wasnt too confusing

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loveoaths · 1 year

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i refuse to write luke skywalker as always rational and sunshiney and din djarin as always stoic and honorable.

because luke can be whiny and enjoys complaining and doubts himself but he keeps going and it’s his refusal to quit that gets him to the other side. and he had to learn that, that dogged tenacity, with time and experience and yoda’s help on dagobah. he wears coco chanel and could kill god but he’s too busy housing hot milk juice. he’s the greatest jedi who ever lived but he also knows jack-all shit about the legacy he carries because he got the jedi speedrun. his first student knows more about being a jedi than he does and luke feels weird and less capable because of it. he still doesn’t quite know how to feel about his biofather, his feelings change every day, and he doesn’t know if he ever will. he knows next to nothing about his biomother and no one seems to think that’s weird at all. he loves sand. he misses home. he never wants to go home. he doesn’t know where home is anymore. he wanted to be a cool hero all his life and now that he is one he isn’t sure he’d have left tattooine if he’d known what it would have cost him back then, even if he knows now it was the right thing to do. he loves quickly and deeply and it’s his greatest strength and his greatest flaw, and his love is what saves his father but dooms his nephew. he’s a happy guy, not a naive one. he knows too much and not enough all at once. he’s brave and proud and freaky and normal and laughing and groaning all at once. he is a cambrian explosion, the universe convexing and convexing into itself all at once. he’s a hick from space arizonabama. he’s luke skywalker.

and din is not always selfless and honorable or deadly and murderous. that man does some reckless as shit sometimes. like get in a concrete boat in a lava river when he had a jet pack. or nearly getting eaten by every large-to-giant animal he stumbles across. or bringing a baby to a gunfight (although to his credit, the baby usually wins the gunfight). he’s also vengeful and leaves a guy to get eaten by street ratdogs with the calm air of a man who has done this before and walks away playing with his baby while a man screams bloody murder behind him. he tries to be polite and avoids killing people he doesn’t need to, but if you step to him he will cut you down without a second thought, and he will not feel bad about it. he was going to leave a teenager/young man toro calican to die because he was annoying until he begrudgingly agreed to help him. when he was young he referred to enemy combatants as “target practice” and fucked around with xi’an so he has terrible-good taste simultaneously. he just be doing shit and surviving because he’s literally wearing plot armor. he has anxiety. he has a heart— not a big one, but an honest one. he’s practical and ruthless when necessary. he’s a warrior and a protector, a father and an orphan, a zealot and an apostate, the sword and the shield, the hunter and the hunted. he lashes out when he’s frustrated and reins himself in to get a job done. he takes no bullshit but also, yes he does. he’s faced The Horrors and takes a space ambien before bed because his middle aged back fucking hurts. he’s a little guy. that’s din djarin.

they’re both complex and weird and funny and tragic and hopeful and messy as hell and basically i’m saying they should fight then fuck about it.

#yelling at myself on my blog instead of writing the fic? more likely than you’d think.#walkie talkie.#din djarin #luke skywalker #dinluke

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shortkingvi · 10 months

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thinking about midnight mass again and the expendability of humanity by religious zealotism and the social sacrificial nature of blind religious loyalty and how yet, in spite of all that,,,, the beauty of community and love and forgiveness and peace,, god……….

#what a show #just like… so beautifully painful in a christian way #i grapple with my christianity still to this day and the symbolism of the show is a Lot for me #bev leading this witch hunt indoctrination effort and then.. in the end.. trying to escape the judgement of her actions…… damn.#flanagan’s best work and i stand by that #midnight mass

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my-own-walker · 10 months

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please do a smut where y/n is like an innocent catholic girl who has recently arrived at the cortez and has already caught the attention of james, one evening he invites her to his room for a dinner together and she ends up doing it for the first time with james who convinces her (ps i love your writing sm)

Eros

note: you are too kind for tacking on that compliment there ☺️ don't give me a big head nowwwww 🥰

warnings: anti-catholic stuff, sm*t, some pretty strange dirty talk, light bondage, corruption k!nk, reader not being entirely sober during s3x...

+++

James' POV

Dirty streets, these days, are graced by angels of white and gold. Pure, uncorrupted souls with soft skin and far-fetched dreams. I hadn't been able to see that until she arrived.

I used to think Los Angeles was teeming with dirty cretins and disgusting ne'er-do-wells. When Y/N checked into the Hotel Cortez, my worldview shifted.

A Los Angeles local, she found herself in my grasp after unknown circumstances left her 'stranded' in the city for the night. At least, that's what she told reception. Her silken hair reflected the dim light of the halls so beautifully as she walked to her room. She almost glowed in her white lace dress, made fairer with her gold jewelry.

I watched as she unlocked the door to suite 61. I was left entirely shocked when her body made a quarter turn, making clear the rosary hanging from her neck. The white beads hung so hauntingly from her fair neck. She wore no makeup. Her nails were bare. She was so clearly Catholic.

Oh, how I had such contempt for her god.

It should have been no surprise to me that the purest being I had ever seen was some religious zealot. But, nonetheless, I found myself utterly speechless, albeit all too tempted to aid her in straying from her 'god's' light.

I approached her as she sat at the bar in the lobby later on. She twisted strands of her hair in her fingers, nervously sipping some water out of a crystal glass.

'Why come to a bar to drink water?' I asked.

'Oh,' she spun around, startled by my sudden appearance. 'Hello, uh?'

'James Patrick March,' I announced, bowing slightly. 'And you are?'

'Uh, Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. And, um, I don't imbibe.'

'Ah, I see,' I replied. 'Well, you'll have no fun in this lobby then. Spirits are about the only thing worth seeing down here.' I looked around, feigning disgust.

'I just, uh, wanted some time away from the room...is all,' she stammered.

'Come to my suite, then, darling,' I purred, extending a hand. She thought for a moment, staring into my eyes with her big, petrified, innocent gaze. Instead of responding, she took my hand and hopped down from the bar stool.

'Oh my, what a wonderful suite you have,' she gasped, gaping at the luxury my space offered. 'I've never seen anything this nice.'

'Oh? And how's that?' I inquired, walking over to the bar to fix us both drinks. She sat down on one of the couches in the front room, feeling the velvet texture with both of her hands. When she placed her hands back in her lap, her lace dress rode up deliciously, exposing a great portion of her thighs. She worked quickly to smooth the fabric back over her soft skin.

'This is embarrassing, but in all honesty, I grew up pretty poor,' she explained. 'I just trust in God, though. I don't need much. I never have. Because all I need is God's love. And I know I have it.' I watched her face light up, smiling widely as she spoke nonsense. She twirled that blasted rosary in her dainty fingers.

'Do you wish god would bring you a life like mine?' I couldn't help but toy with her in this way. Her face shifted expressions so quickly, I almost didn't catch the desperation and angst in her eyes before she replaced it with a grin.

'No, sir,' she smiled. 'I trust in the plan He's laid out for me. I just do what I feel called to do.'

'So, god told you to come up here?' I countered. She cast her gaze down, not replying. I glided across the room to where she sat and handed her the drink I prepared.

'I-I don't imbib-'

'This drink is not alcohol, dearie. It's sweet,' I smirked, sipping from my own glass. She looked down into the glass of green-hued liquid and shifted it in her hands. 'I promise.' She brought the glass up to her lips and took a small taste.

'Ooh,' she hummed, 'it's like licorice.'

'I knew you'd like it, sweet girl,' I murmured.

Her next sip was much larger. We conversed until I was sure the absinthe had taken effect. I idly rubbed her back, my arm around her shoulders as we spoke. She relaxed into my touch in no time. Before long, I was caressing her thighs and making her purr like a kitten. I would have her in my grip in no time.

'Precious girl, what really brought you to the Hotel Cortez, hm?' I asked, breaking contact for just a moment.

'You want the real truth?' she slurred.

'Nothing but, dearest.'

'I ran away from home,' she explained. 'More like...I was cast out. My parents...they caught me with a boy from church this past spring.'

'Ah, I see,' I replied, trying to encourage her to go on.

'We were in my bedroom...I promise we weren't doing anything...just kissing...' she continued to slur. 'I wanted more...he was taking so long...but Dad opened the door before anything happened.'

'That's just too bad,' I cooed, stroking her silken hair. Her scent was intoxicating. Sugary sweet.

'I loved him...Dad said he would kill him if he saw him again,' she whispered. 'It hasn't been the same since...so I ran away...they weren't talking to me anymore. I-I sinned.'

'Ah, see, that is where you are wrong. Sin is not real,' I tutted. 'What you need to understand is that religion is a phase. It is not based in reality.'

'No, Mr. March-'

'Please, love, call me James,' I smirked. 'Your god is not watching you. He does not care about you. If he did, he would allow you the simple pleasures in life. Like spirits...'

I gestured to her glass.

'Sex...' I began peppering kisses on her neck. She shivered and moaned lightly.

'And freedom. You see, your belief in him is a passing phase. Passing phases wear you thin. You can only believe for so long...'

'I don't, I don't think that's right,' she breathed as my hand ran up her thigh.

'It is quite right, dear. I am nothing like the boy you loved in spring. I am nothing like your god,' I growled. 'I will let you have pleasure.'

'I want that,' she whined, my hand continuing to creep up to her soft, pure, untouched center.

'Yes, you do.' I took her relaxed body in my arms and carried her to the bedroom. Her white dress made her look so untainted against my dark silk sheets. It almost made me sad to remove it.

Once her dress was off, I twisted her rosary in my hand and pulled. The string popped. A couple of beads clattered to the ground. I used what was left of the necklace to tie her right hand to the bedpost. A leather strap from the drawer in the bedside table bound her left hand. She was so vulnerable. So willing.

'James,' she whined. 'Are you really real?'

I ran my hand from her calf all the way up to her soft tummy, watching the goosebumps rise on her skin. 'Very real,' I answered.

I removed my own clothing in a flash and crawled onto the bed, stooping my face down to meet hers. Her doe eyes looked up at me so beautifully. She was almost too delicious to drink in.

I entered her forcefully. She yelped loudly, her eyes widening at the feeling. Her walls tightened around me. I couldn't help but groan.

I kissed her as I pumped in and out of her. She didn't kiss back. Instead, she panted and whimpered into my mouth. I moved my attention to her breasts, peppering kisses all over. I took my time taking each of them in my mouth, swirling my tongue and making her back arch.

'Does this feel good?' I asked, still thrusting in and out of her warm cunt.

'Y-yes,' she panted.

'Nothing like what your god has made you feel, yes?'

'No, no, never,' she whimpered, her hips bucking.

'You were surrounded by insolent fools. Those Catholics. Jokers, happy-go xenophobe locals,' I growled. 'The men that wrung us all dry, the boys that poked your eye, the common fools. Your people.' I thrust harder and harder. She tried to move her arms but to no avail.

'James,' she moaned.

'Y/N,' I replied. 'Don’t you think we make a good pair?' Sweat began forming on my brow. My breathing became ragged. ' We could join forces like carousels and their horses, forever spinning 'round.'

'Yes!' she howled. I felt her hot fluids rush out of her. She was experiencing pure bliss. Her eyes screwed shut and her mouth hung open. I had no choice but to finish as well. I groaned lightly and removed myself from her. She lay there, breathing heavily.

'Come out of your shell and join us honey, we will sort you out,' I breathed, running my fingers through her hair. 'You belong here.'

+++

AHH sorry if this was too much for some of y'all, I really had to restrain myself. My OG ending had him killing her (as most of my JPM pics end hehehehehe). Thank u again for the request!

#evan peters x female reader #evan peters #evan peters fic #evan peters x reader #ahs #james patrick march #evan peters oneshot #james patrick march x you #james patrick march x reader #jpm #jpm x reader #ahs hotel

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bakugotrashpanda · 1 year

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Vampire!Bakugou x Fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

All Souls Trilogy AU (if you squint)

!!: blood, angst

Your wish is his command… except for one thing.

Ornate metal lattice digs into Bakugou’s hands as he listens to your councilors inform you of the situation at hand. Inform. That’s a joke. More like condescend or manipulate. If he was actually allowed in the room as opposed to hiding behind the equivalent of a confessional, they wouldn’t treat you like that.

Bronze creaks under his hand. Conversation that, to normal human ears, would be muffled by a red curtain pauses. You dismiss the sound. The conversation continues.

“Patience,” your voice finds his ears. A futile command meant for him. But he waits. And when the simpering men leave your court, he finally emerges. Male stench hangs in the room. God, he hates these meetings. You can’t smell it, but Bakugou can’t help but pick up the underlying notes of ambition, hatred, lust. He could break their necks at the drop of a hat.

If you ordered it, he’d do anything.

“Well?” you sigh, “You heard them. The armada will be at our port in three days. Our fleet is battered. We wouldn’t be able to hold them off.”

Bakugou walks beside your chair and looks down at you. It was built for your grandfather. Big man, big ego, big dreams. Big shoes to fill. In comparison, you look like a child slumped at the dinner table waiting to be allowed to leave.

“And they want you to lock the capital,” he sneers, “Leaving the masses — your people — the fend for themselves.” They want to stay safe in their cushy houses, and they currently do while the average person suffers.

A grim smile twists your lovely features. Bakugou longs to see your natural smile as opposed to this mockery of it. Oh how war hardens even the softest of hearts.

“So, my Shadow,” you look up at him now, “What are my other options?”

Bakugou clenches a fist at his side. There’s nothing more in the world he wants than to reach out and cup your cheek and memorize the glimmer of hope hiding in your eyes. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, your intoxicating scent causing his heart to beat once. Exhaling, he rolls his shoulders before answering you. “The witches are eager to prove themselves. Become useful in your eyes.”

“They want protection from the masses.”

Bakugou holds back a smirk. Of course you’d read between the lines. Nothing is given for free. “I advise you use them.”

“And then what? Offer them carte blanche?” you scoff. “If one more zealot cries foul again I’ll have an uprising worse than what my father faced.” You wince. You may try to forget the way he was dragged from the castle and beheaded and your shaky rise to power – eyes of the masses hungry for bloodshed, but he remembers it as vividly as yesterday. You were barely a woman, fear and a shattered innocence filled you to the core as you swore before all the powers that be to protect your realms.

And Bakugou silently promised to guide you better than he had your father and his father before him.

“You’ll think of something.”

“What use are you then if you don’t aid your queen?” Your tongue and eyes are sharp and turned on him. “You will not make me a vampire such as yourself and grant me the powers I need to stabilize my kingdom. You tease solutions, but offer nothing more than that.” Bakugou watches you stand, your face hardening into an impassive mask. “The witches worry that I will turn my back on them, but perhaps it is the vampires who will lose favor.”

Pacing back and forth, you watch him, waiting for any reaction — something you can use to move the argument along.

But all he gives you is. He can’t say anything – no matter how much he wants to. In truth, he has no more power than your advisors who bow their heads with a ‘yes, Your Majesty’ and say what you want to hear in an attempt to curry favor for themselves.

Your shoulders slump when it’s clear he’s not going to take the bait. “I have a kingdom to protect and ensure that we will see better days. I swore an oath before all the gods that I would do this,” your jaw juts out stubbornly. “I still have no consort and no heir. Everything will fall to chaos. Will you really deny your queen the ability to ensure there is a future for my people?”

Bakugou falls into a wide stance and clasps his hands behind his back. He’s heard this argument time and time again. No doubt your stubbornness will hold strong this time too. “I told your father and your father’s father the same thing: no. We do not lead in human politics.”

“Yet you’ll meddle.”

Bakugou sighs. He’ll respond that yes, creatures will meddle – who wouldn’t? You’ll spew more stories meant to guilt trip him. He’ll hold fast in his position that you will not be made a vampire. You’ll insinuate that if he won’t do it, you’ll find someone who will. His heart will beat again, and he’ll snarl that whatever vampire you find would sooner kill you than turn you. You’ll storm away. Nothing will be resolved.

If he tries a different approach, maybe he can avoid what will surely be a weeklong headache. “My Queen,” he grits out. Fuck these insufferable games he must play in order to speak his mind. “Permission to speak freely?”

Back when he was reborn there was no need to ask to speak. He and his brethren did what they wanted without consequence. Lands were conquered on whims, the blood flowed freely. And now? He’s reduced to acting like one of the humans who advises you.

You nod. How generous.

“If I made you what I am,” he says silkily, “I would have your kingdom at my mercy. I could order you to do my bidding, and you would not be able to deny me. As a vampire you wouldn’t have the heir you so desperately want. I would ruin you.” He stalks towards you, only a plumper of the predator within. To your credit, you stand your ground and appear unimpressed — your scent, however, betrays you. “In the time it would take for you to control your blood thirst, your people that you so valiantly want to protect would all be dead.”

He bends at the waist so your faces are even. Smiling, he adds on, “And that’s if you don’t kill them all yourself.” With a flourish, he bows and stalks towards the door. He doesn’t care that you’re fuming at his breach in etiquette.

Bakugou isn’t summoned for more than a week. That whole time he does what he does best: stick to the shadows. To say you’re irritated is an understatement. The only time you do call upon him is to send him on an errand worthy of a human. Maybe it’s your form of punishment – to remind him of what you are.

But he’s addicted to you and can’t stay away. Many nights he finds himself spending time with the gargoyles lining the roof outside your window.

He’s late tonight — not that sitting outside your chambers has a set time. A questioning took longer than he expected, and had extra clean up to deal with. Bakugou settles in at his usual spot and listens. Normal nightly ambience quickly filters away. All he wants to hear is you.

Elevated heartbeat. Rapid breathing. Excitement. Bakugou turns his head away from your window. This isn’t the first time he’s heard you… enjoy yourself. But it’s a moment when you think you’re alone, so he does his best to give you privacy. He’s about to leave his hiding spot outside your window when he hears another faint heartbeat. Jealousy shoots through him. His hold on the nearest statue cracks the stone. Pebbles fall to the ground stories below. Who would you possibly have there with you?

About to break one of his own self-imposed rules and peek into your chambers, he’s blindsided by a scent.

Hatred.

It assaults his senses. A putrid scent wraps around his nose. It’s cloying, stinging his nose and pricking his eyes.

You’re not alone. But you’re not enjoying yourself either. No, if his senses are anything to go off of, there’s someone in your chambers with you who intends to do you harm.

Flashes of green cloud his vision. A past he swore he left behind eons ago.

A mumbling. Yours?

Bakugou can’t wait. He dives into the room and pinpoints the stench. It’s reflex at this point – sharpened claws embed into flesh. Warmth trickles down his fingers. He’s probably the only one who can hear the final exhale from the human hidden behind thick curtains in your room. Iron hitting the floor and bouncing around before coming to rest ricochets in his ears.

You inhale sharply and sit up in your bed. Even in your anger and silence with him, you call for Bakugou – albeit at a whisper. Bakugou emerges from the curtain, blood drips down his hand in the moonlight. Your eyes fixate on the dark liquid. He sniffs it, but disdain taints it. There’s no point in savoring it, or even drinking it.

And then it hits him.

The blood curdling scream ripped from your lungs.

Soldiers rush into the room, swords drawn. Your blood spikes. There’s no way you’re in any shape to issue orders. Bakugou takes over, barking out demands to round up your advisors. Little do you know, but the human who had planned on destroying you was one of the people you trusted most – outside of him.

You’re still in shock – in bed staring dumbfounded as the chaos in your bedchambers winds down. Bakugou aches to hold you close, make promises that nothing like this will happen again. But he can’t.

Could he even handle a rejection from you? Or would he snap? It wouldn’t be the first time.

No, it’s better if he excuses himself first.

“Katuski, please, stay.”

Against his better judgment, his feet stumble to a stop and he stares at the door in front of him. Does he stay? Is it wise?

He turns. Faces you for the first time since you cast him out of your council chambers. For the first time since your father’s death, you look your age. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but you’ve made a valiant effort to keep your head held high despite all the troubles and tribulations thrown your way. Now though, in a bed that dwarfs you, you look more like yourself and less like the young queen he serves.

Bakugou tentatively sits on the edge of your bed. You play with a stray thread from the enormous cover. He watches you wind and unwind it around your finger. It’s only when it snaps completely that you speak.

“He… I… I trusted him. And he wanted to kill me.” Bakugou remains silent. He watches you process the moment. Your brows push together and pull apart as sadness overtakes you. “I trusted him. He advised me. And he wanted me dead.”

Visions of the past swim in his eyes. He wanted me dead. A deep, garbled voice pleads with him. For what? Desperation. Blood. Death.

“He can’t hurt you.” Bakugou masks the hollowness of his voice with a bow of his head. “I am your faithful servant, now and always.”

“Would he be able to kill me if I were a creature like you?”

Not again. He’s not ready for another argument. You’re only just beginning to talk to him again. “Not in the way he wanted.” It’s not impossible, but vampires are much harder to kill than mere mortals.

“Katsuki, I’m begging.” Warm fingers grasp his forearm. “Change me. Make me one of you.”

It would be so easy. “I am bound by the laws created by and for creatures. I can’t. And if I was able to, I wouldn’t.”

Your mouth opens, an objection on your tongue. He speaks quickly, cutting off a protest he’s heard countless times before. “I don’t have many regrets – I can count them on one hand.” A pair of eyes, pleading. A pair of emeralds that haunt him when he somehow sleeps. Shiny. Reflective. Crying? Blood everywhere. A life too soon extinguished. A love lost. All his fault. “I turned someone I thought I loved. I was ready to spend the rest of eternity with a mate.” It ended with a body, a broken heart, and a promise never to repeat that mistake.

“I’m not like her, I promise.”

“No, you’re not like him,” Bakugou snaps. How many times does he have to say it? “But I won’t do it, no matter how much I love you.”

The silence hangs heavy in the room. You sit back. The cavernous distance between your bodies makes his fingers itch.

Maybe you didn’t hear him. Maybe you’ll think he said something else. Maybe-

“Love?”

He curses himself. No, of course you heard, and now one of his secrets is out there. There’s no point in denying it. You’ll never let it drop. And… if he messes up now, he’ll have plenty of chances in the future to make it right. “I’ve always loved you. I always find you, not matter how far I have to go or how far you rise or fall in life.”

“You’ve… found me. Before.” Confusion turns to awe as realization washes over you. There are hushed whispers in religions about reincarnation, but very few have actually believed it.

“And I’ll find you again in your next life.”

“You wouldn’t have to find me again; you could have me now.”

“Don’t say that!” Bakugou’s roar echoes throughout the chamber.

“I’m not scared of you.” Defiance. Just like him. His other love. Only back then, Bakugou believed his words.

“You should be. I’m a monster.” He killed the one he loved. All because he was… afraid of being alone. What good is eternity if you can’t spend it with anyone? “I can hear your blood singing beneath your skin. On the best of days I hang on to my sanity by a thread.”

“What kind of life is that?”

“One I choose for myself.”

Your lips press together. Every incarnation of you never lets it drop. “What’s holding you back?” Maybe… just this once… “Katsuki… talk to me.”

“No. It doesn’t concern you.” He can’t.

You straighten up and arch an eyebrow. “Are you disobeying an order from your queen?”

He smirks. “Are you my queen now instead of the woman I covet most?”

Hesitation overtakes the haughty demeanor on your face. “I can be both.”

“Not to me.”

You sigh. A wry grin replaces the fake demeanor you save for your court. “Then tell me, the woman who wants to spend her whole life with you. What happened?”

He failed. That’s what happened. It was much like this night; an assassination attempt, only the assassin succeeded. And as the love of his life lay in Bakugou’s arms dying, Bakugou offered him a choice. And who can refuse the chance to live forever?

Bakugou licks his lips. How much should he tell you? Would you be jealous after hearing it all? “He was the chieftain,” he starts slowly. “He shouldn’t have been though. It was a different time. Politics… it was all brutal strength. When I heard there was a chief that couldn’t protect his people, I went to him with the intention of wiping him and his people off the face of the earth.”

He can remember the scent of fresh dirt after the rain. The mud squelching beneath his war horse’s hooves. People watched him warily as he rode into town. A green haired man emerged from the largest structure. Innocence.

“But you didn’t?”

“I didn’t,” he nods. “I saw how he led without an iron fist. At first it intrigued me. And then the more I watched, the more I wanted to protect him. He knew what I was and he welcomed me. Everyone did. The peacefulness messed with me. First time in eons I’d felt that way. But it didn’t last, and I couldn’t protect him. He was wounded and I offered him a chance to stay with me. Forever.”

His blood tasted sweet. It was laced with love and hope, none of the desperation that usually follows death.

“Did he take it?”

“He did. But it wasn’t successful.” Soft emerald eyes woke with a hardness Bakugou saw when he looked at his reflection. An unending hunger. A craving. A need for violence. “He woke with an uncontrollable bloodlust. He slaughtered everyone in his care. But he wasn’t done there. He ran. There was destruction wherever he went. My father…” Bakugou swallows thickly. He remembers his father riding over the hilltop. From across the field of carnage, Bakugou heard him sigh before turning away. “My step-father. He was disappointed in me. I would’ve preferred him being angry. But he calmly told me to clean up my mess. I…”

In the end, Bakugou caught him. It had to be done. I lo- There was peace on his face when Bakugou removed his heart from his chest. Acrid smoke filled Bakugou’s lungs as the body burned. And for a split second, he considered walking into the blazing pyre as well.

“I killed him in the end. I had to.” Bakugou studies his hands. How much blood did he have on them? “I spent centuries trying to find him again. He never resurfaced.”

“Maybe he-”

“No. You haven’t seen it. There are always similarities.” Bakugou studies you for a moment. Sometimes your hair changes. Sometimes you’re shorter than normal. Once it was your eyes, and that took him off guard once he realized it was you. “You, for example, are always in power whether you want it or not. You’re headstrong and stubborn as a mule. You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And your smile. I always recognize your smile. He’s gone. Forever. Turning him must’ve corrupted his soul.”

Your lips form a thin line as grim realization sets in. “That’s why you won’t turn me.”

“I won’t lose you too. At least this way I know that I can search to the ends of the earth and I’ll find you again.” Even if it’s a painful existence.

“Katsuki.” Your hand finds his cheek. Warmth floods his skin, just like it did before his rebirth. His eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation. “You may not make me one of you, but I give myself to you, and no other.” Bakugou’s eyes pinch tight. He’s heard those words before. They always spell your downfall. If he doesn’t push you away, there will be no heir to the throne. There will be no victory in the war. Your kingdom will collapse.

And yet…

He’s never had the willpower to say no before.

He cups your cheek. Your skin thrums beneath his touch. The siren’s call from your blood grows deafeningly loud. His lips graze over yours, barely skimming their surface, but his senses explode.

“Mine,” he whispers huskily, “Forever.” Sealing your fate in this life with a searing kiss, he moves his way down to the soft base of your neck. Teeth pierce skin. Your gasp is music to his ears. Your essence coats his tongue

It’s not enough to kill, nor is it enough to turn you, but it is enough to mark you as his territory for all other creatures.

They’ll know that you’re in league with a vampire, and they’ll grow suspicious of you and your word – turn on you when you least expect it.

Just like they have before.

Maybe next time – in your next life – he can stop himself or finally give in to your wishes and turn you.

But for this lifetime, you’re his.

—Modern day—

Bakugou stares out over the city. From the top floor, he can hardly see the people below. It’s hardly the tallest skyscraper, but he and his kind have had to adapt — be more… incognito. Gone are the days of raising hell and taking over. No, much to his chagrin, in this human dominated society, Bakugou has to pretend to be like them.

He glances at the framed magazine cover behind a grandiose oak desk. It’s been enlarged – at least three feet tall. You stand front and center in a smart blazer, arms crossed. Your eyes sear the viewer as if daring them to challenge you. The headline is as bold as you: New Queen of Philanthropy? Meet the latest woman to join the Top 100 Most Powerful People.

The boardroom door silently opens and clicks shut behind him. An intoxicating scent wraps around him, teasing his senses. And for a moment, he allows himself to get lost in it. Maybe this time will be different.

He spins on his heel and extends a hand to you. “Katsuki Bakugou, your father’s chief financial officer.” His heart gives a single beat as his skin makes contact with yours.

“I’ve heard all about you, Mr. Bakugou,” you reply and pointedly stare at the icy handshake. “They call you my father’s shadow; always working in the background, getting him the information he needed, never in the public eye.”

“Please, call me Katsuki,” he grins wolfishly. “I look forward to serving you.”

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#bnha imagines #bakugou #bakugou x reader #vampire #writing #blood #all souls trilogy au #sorta

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