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mammomlette · 9 days

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OBEY ME YOUNGER BROTHERS AS SOULMATE TROPES!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3(WIP rn)]

Includes: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, GN!Reader/MC

Warnings: Spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphies (not explicitly said but obvious foreshadowing for a twist), implied manipulation (Belphies) (not sure if that needs a warning but better safe than sorry)

Notes: I’m still quite new to fanfics and Tumblr, and honestly just writing in my free time in general so constructive criticism is defo encouraged!! Also I won’t lie to you, Satan did seem a tad ooc erm…

SATAN: writing/drawings on hands appear on eachother

* As soon as you turned 18, you noticed small phrases and notes appearing on your right hand

* It started off with small things like “page 562” or “British shorthair.” Just things to keep as a reminder or to be able to search it up later

* However, as time went by, the notes became a bit more… concerning

* Concerning book quotes from old literature, sometimes in other languages, and nefarious plans to prank someone called ‘Lucifer’

* Your soulmate plans to prank the devil himself. Haha. What a great idea.

* You brushed it off for a while, appreciating the occasional cat fact or chapter reminder and just ignoring the angry words about Lucifer.

* Eventually, you began to build up the courage to respond. Small things relating to things your soulmate wrote, like cat doodles (good or bad as your art skill may be) or going over the writing of the reminder when you notice it started to fade

* Not knowing if it was your place to write down your own notes or just not quite having that amount of bravery, you still did those little things to let your soulmate know that hey, you’re there and you’re always reading what they have to say.

* Satan thought he was hallucinating.

* Thousands of years spent just jotting things down to remind himself of things at a later date, frequently on his hand, and suddenly things started to change?

* He had wrote “British shorthair” on his palm in hopes of being able to look it up later, and a few minutes later he looks down to his palm to search it up and sees a… cat?? It’s really not clear. It’s round, with two points on the top of its head… yeah thats a cat.

* He’s become so obsessed he’s hallucinating badly drawn cats, which is probably a cause for concern, so naturally he confides in his brothers about this and is comforted that no he’s not hallucinating, however cats are just randomly appearing on his hand.

* They continue to appear, circles with two triangles, some looking better than others and some with more odd features likes birthday hats or weird outfits

* He finally decided to read up on what could be happening and was quickly met with the term ‘soulmates’

* He had heard of this a long time ago from one of his brothers while he was still young (for a demon) and brushed it off as a fairy tale. Why had his soulmate only started communicating with his just now?

* He moved on eventually and time passed, a new human being introduced to his home and his family.

* It took an embarrassingly long time to realise that his human was also his soulmate, it wasn’t until you were both just chilling in his room and you were doodling something next to some words on your arm that he noticed a cat appearing on his own arm.

* “Look! The cat thing is happening!” He shouted, a lot more emotion out into it that he would’ve liked due to the sheer shock

* You stopped what you were doing and look at his arm, the cat drawing having ceased its being drawn while you stared at the cat, face turning into shock and then seriousness. Because that is the cat that you just drew.

* “Satan.” You said, just staring into his eyes without any expression

* “Yes, MC?” He responded, worried at your monotony. His mouth then gaped open and you showed him your arm, cat half doodled next to the words “page 236, sticky notes needed”

* You both just made dead eye contact for a second before your eyes both began to flick back and forth and your lips slowly started to quiver

* Both of your sweet laughters filled the room, how ironic that such a common book trope would be what flew under Satan’s nose for so long.

ASMODEUS: soulmate telepathy

* Ever since you turned 18, you had been hearing a voice in your head.

* Not necessarily in a concerning way! In the way it happens when you and your soulmate have both turned 18 and can finally communicate.

* At first, you thought that you were hearing things. Things like “Ooo, this would be a great touch to my outfit! ♡” and “Can’t believe my bath wasn’t 3 hours long today…” flooding your mind. Since when were you SO picky about your clothes and hygiene, even when not in the process of dressing or washing? And since when were your baths 3 hours?

* Quickly though, you realised that this voice wasn’t your own. It was a melodic sounding voice that felt like honey and most definitely did not belong to you.

* You had heard from your family growing up and your friends recently that once you had become an adult you would be able to communicate with your soulmate through your thoughts, proof of the bond your souls shared, thoughts intertwining together.

* You found that whenever you were deep in thought and rambling to yourself you’d be met with a “hon, slow down” in your mind or that whenever you were trying to figure out an outfit your soulmate would chime in to offer their expert advice without hesitation

* No hesitation at all, because Asmo had waited his entire life for this.

* Thousands of years of life believing that he had no soulmate, destined to forever be a player

* So long spent reading and gushing over cute romance stories where soulmate meet and finding comfort in romcoms about that very topic, and here he was finally with his own soulmate in his mind

* The way you would thank him for his advice before his mind went quiet from your thoughts again until you later told him how well everything went and the way you would ramble internally to him without even realising you were connected to his mind made his heart flutter, even without your face your voice and soul were beautiful

* One day he had been summoned alongside his brothers to the student council room to welcome the new human exchange student. It was a hassle that could be spent doing something more productive like his skincare or extra time in the bath, but he was still just so excited he had to tell you how excited he was to meet the new human!

* “New human?” You thought, but had no response from your soulmate before you appeared inside of a council room in front of 5 attractive strange men.

* You panicked and were kind of in autopilot mode as a tall man in all red introduced you to your situation and a slightly-less-tall man in black started to introduce you to his brothers

* You still had small responses in your shock, and a certain demon recognised your voice.

* You were immediately snapped out of autopilot when you heard the voice of the second brother you were introduced to, an admitted handsome man with slightly-pink-tinted light brown hair and stunning orangeish eyes said “Oh come now. Really? You should be that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!” And you froze.

* You looked like a deer in headlights to lucifer who was trying to introduce you to a blonde demon, but to Asmo, you looked like the most beautiful creature to ever walk the three realms (asides from himself, naturally) and the only person worthy of him.

* Asmo saw beauty in everyone, but everyone else paled in comparison to your face in this moment and your voice every other previous time he had heard it.

* He looked at you with knowing eyes and your eyes finally softened from your shocked face, finally understanding what he meant earlier by “new human”

* It would take time for you to get used to being in a new world with a demon as your soulmate, it would take time for him to get used to loving someone more intimately than as lust, but you both had eachother and the bond that ties your minds together and that’s all you needed.

BEELZEBUB: you share (some of) your soulmate’s pain

* It was growing unbearable.

* The slight yet constant ache in your stomach, a pit that was never quite full.

* For years you mistook it for your own hunger, not sure if you should be eating more or not

* It was always there, always something that disctracted you whenever you were left alone in silence or trying to sleep at night, always waiting for you to finish a meal just to make you feel that familiar ache again.

* It was just insufferable.

* It wasn’t just the hunger, though. There would be times where your muscles would ache like you had been working out without a proper cool down or your arms felt like they had bruised from defending or blocking against something

* You inquired with your friends about this and were just told that it would be your soulmate. You shared pain with your soulmate, and your soulmate always seemed in pain

* It wasn’t a pain that came from attacks or falling, just a pit that always felt so empty it hurt but could never be filled.

* Was your soulmate starving to death? You wished there was a way to help them, to soothe the pain, but without knowing who they are there was no way to fix it.

* As of present, you had been sent into the devildom a few weeks ago and had began to slowly feel adjusted to the devildom and your roommates and you had grown fond of one in particular: Beelzebub, the avatar of gluttony.

* You sympathised with him and his constant hunger since you yourself always felt a small bit of this hunger, even if you’d learnt by now that it wasn’t yours to fix

* So naturally, you hung a round him more

* You spent time with him whenever you could just because you wanted to, accompanying him to the gym or treating him to Hell’s Kitchen or even just sitting with him when he was lonely and missing his brother who had gone to the human world

* And it felt like every time you gave him the food you were craving so much, that pit in your stomach was filled just a bit

* Always there, never going away, but it felt just that bit more bearable and ignorable for a short while

* Who knew you were such an empath?

* Of course it crossed your mind of that Beel could be your soulmate, but what are the chances? You dismissed the thought whenever it appeared, not wanting to get your hopes up

* However, your hopes were validated one night in the kitchen with Beel.

* You were preparing him a small snack, just cutting up some devildom-style bread for him when you accidentally put your finger down at the wrong time in the wrong place and cut it

* You hissed at the pain, putting down the knife to look at your finger and you thought you heard Beel grunt.

* “MC, are you okay?” He inquired, approaching you to look at your finger while slightly cradling his own for some reason

* “Uh, yeah, I just need a plaster or something, would you mind..?” “Yeah, of course.” He continued to clutch his finger while reaching for the cabinet, letting go for a second to open it and grab you a plaster

* “Are you okay? You’re holding your finger too.” You were slightly worried by his mannerisms even though you didn’t see a cut on his fingers.

* “Yeah, my finger just hurt all of a sudden. It’s fine though. Here, I’ll put the plaster on for you.”

* You fell into comfortable silence as he opened the plaster and began pressing in down, but he pressed down a bit too hard which hurt you, causing both of you to hiss.

* “Seriously Beel, are you okay?” He nodded. “Yeah, it’s just like whenever you get hurt my finger hurts too.”

* Lightbulb. You realised finally that those slight considerations were valid and the connection you felt with Beel was real. The hunger you felt wasn’t yours and the reason it was numbed when you gave him food is because it was his.

* He seemed to have realised this too, because he paused and looked at you, slowly smiling.

* “MC, I just realised something. I think that-“ you cut him off with a kiss, smiling now too.

BELPHEGOR: you have a countdown until your soulmate’s death

* Surely there was an error in the system.

* Call you crazy but you didn’t quite think that 378,691,205,018 seconds is applicable to the human life span.

* You had come to the conclusion that your soulmate was either non-existent and the universe was fucking with you or they were some kind of non human entity and obviously both of these answers were stupid but at least the former was possible.

* You’d grown accepting overtime that you didn’t have a soulmate unlike how most of your friends did and that you’d never have that sort of unconditional love

* Not having a soulmate wasn’t unheard of, just uncommon.

* And you got the short end of the stick. That’s all there was to it.

* UNTIL you got randomly abducted one day into literal hell where pretty much all beings there loved for thousands of years.

* ‘Maybe I have a chance now?’ You crossed the thought out from your mind. First of all, these were demons and most of them had made attempts on your life at some point or another, and secondly almost all of them either a) didn’t have a timer, which meant no soulmate, b) had an insanely high timer that you’d never be able to reach or c) had already found their soulmate

* You sighed to yourself and began to lose hope again, walking up the stairs to the attic

* A short while ago, you had found a human locked in the attic, who had asked you to help him. You clicked, something in that moment just felt like it had been put in place like the final puzzle piece so you trusted him without really knowing why

* But you had even more recently found out from his brother that he was bulshitting you and that he was probably the demon Belphegor, so now you just wanted to figure out what was going on

* You continued to march up the stairs and finally arrived at the attic to confront him or at least question him

* “Are you Belphegor?” You cut to the chase not wanting to bother with any more of his lies.

* He was silent for a second before grinning, devilish look that you’d expect from the decent ruler or the underworld gleaming in his eyes as he said “Aww, so you’ve already figured me out, have you? Well, you’re no fun at all.”

* You glared, and tried to decide whether declaring he was a liar or asking why he was a liar would be a better idea

* But he spoke up again before you could decide.

* “That timer on your neck, what does it say?”

* You paused, not knowing the exact number. “Um, like, there’s hundred billion seconds-ish? Why?”

* “Because I’m a demon. I’m going to live long enough to fulfil that. Look at my timer, here. It has 13,140,014 seconds. No demon would live that short.”

* “And is thirteen million a lot of time?”

* “About a human lifespan, bit under.”

* You hummed. It made sense to you looking at it at the moment, though you could’ve sworn it was a little bit under your guess, you trusted him.

* Why? He lied to you about being a human, so why do you trust him?

* Because he’s your soulmate. There’s no doubt in your mind. The click, the need to trust him, even seeing him in your dreams. It was right.

* So you believed him, and didn’t give the thirteen million seconds much question. You were going to save him, save your soulmate.

* Because thirteen million seems like a long time, and I guess it was long enough for you to save him. Just not enough to do much more.

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suzukiblu · 16 days

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WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move.

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever.

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes.

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells?

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes.

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum.

Or survival instincts.

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . .

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion.

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still.

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.”

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person.

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem.

A serious problem.

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?”

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head.

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?”

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was.

Flattering, but incredibly obvious.

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.”

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.”

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves.

Or a lot harder, sometimes.

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . .

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes.

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside.

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe?

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone.

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now.

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.”

Red Hood laughs.

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!”

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes?

She spent way too long in Amity, yes.

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake.

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . .

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . .

Then again, her life is her life.

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now.

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.”

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?”

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling.

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that.

Hm.

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies.

Well, so is Amity Park, of course.

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not.

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances.

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved.

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells.

Definitely inappropriate.

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says.

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means.

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly.

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.”

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it.

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment.

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering.

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that.

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?”

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows.

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . .

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . .

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.”

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because.

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

#dpxdc #anger management ship #hardcover ship #wip: alpha jazz and a dark alley #tabetharasa #omegaverse

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 months

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hey guys.

so my grandfather passed earlier this evening, after some time in palliative care. this has put a shit ton of stress on my family. i'm also desperately trying to chug my way through my overloaded final semester of undergrad, plus work, plus trying to figure out next year's living situation and finances. i'm overloaded. i'm stressed.

and, unfortunately, over the past little bit, this account has gone from stress relieving, to neutral, to stress inducing, and i just to not have the space for that right now.

i'm heartbroken about it, to be honest. for two years i have poured my entire heart and soul into this. it has taken up every inch of my free time. i spent all my time thinking about it, i put all my creative energy here. not only did this account make me truly, genuinely happy, but i made a lot of friends and had a lot of fun. it hasn't been that place of joy for me for a while now, but i was keeping up, anyway, because i'm so proud of all i've managed here and i don't want to let go, i don't want to move on.

however, i need a break. a long one.

i have been in and out of the voltron fandom since i was 13 years old. 2022-2023 has been the longest consecutive amount of time i have been fully, both feet, petal to the metal engaged, and i actually think that's the longest i've ever been obsessed with one thing. i usually fluctuate. i have no doubt that one day, probably in the not-too-distant (but not too close either) future, i will come back here. i will pick things up again. they're not going anywhere, after all.

for now, what i've posted is what there is. i have lots of wips, and lots of outlines, and lots of things i've started and let stay unfinished, and i'm going to keep it that way. i heard something about some law coming for fanworks on tumblr, so i might shift anything that's been posted here onto ao3, but as for updates -- it'll be awhile. i hope what i already have holds up.

i've read all your comments and reblogs and asks and messages, even if i haven't responded to them. i'm touched by your concern and endeared by your flattery. i appreciate all the energy you guys have returned here, and i wish all of you the best. have so, so so much fun with this fandom until i come back to it.

love, and hugs, and kisses,

-jackie

#:)#<3 #personal #longpost

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puppetmaster13u · 3 days

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I Might Be Writing a Thing For This

So anyway, have a short snippet/wip of it :) It's even Outsider POV :)

👻🦇🐦‍⬛👻🦇🐦‍⬛👻🦇🐦‍⬛👻🦇🐦‍⬛👻🦇🐦‍⬛👻🦇🐦‍⬛👻🦇🐦‍⬛👻

It all started when the boss had missed one of the biweekly meetings- cancelled it and rescheduled for the next day, but still. The red-hooded man (though he barely counted as such, and the amount of heart attacks they had all had at that fact was crazy) had never missed a meeting before.

Been late? Only when Black Mask had decided to try and push his luck one night, but miss it entirely? Never.

So the lot of them- the second in commands for Hood’s gang that the other goonion members were starting to call his “Merry Men” however jokingly- were already on edge. Their boss may be incredibly competent, but he was also incredibly young, like should still be in high school young, not running a crime ring.

But that was Crime Alley for you- everyone grew up far faster than they should, no matter how young they were.

Alex- who usually dealt with their lower members- exchanged a look with their usual partner Liam across the table, silently motioning with their head as though to ask if this was actually happening or what they should do. So yes, all of them were worried, some more visibly so than others.

Did they go searching for the boss? Did they wait? He wasn’t answering his phone, which was even more concerning than before, even if he did go radio silent sometimes. Everything was melding into a worrying situation that they weren’t entirely sure what to do with.

Honestly they were expecting the boss to be covered in blood or dealing with some sort of horrible wound when he finally entered the warehouse almost a full thirty minutes without so much as a message.

That? Was not what they got.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #my writing #winged ghosts #Hood's goons might be slightly overprotective #Goons: uh whacha got there #Hood with 3 near newborns in his arm: a duffel bag #Jason: THERE WAS NO MPREG-#Goons: Dunno boss that's kind of suss #goonion #hood's merry men #halfa jason #dad hood #wing au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

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Blurred Lines 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: some more Nicky for the girlies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The next day, you arrive to an empty house. After Nick’s stormy mood, you’re grateful for the respite. Despite your efforts to forget his comments, to not let them seep too far into your head, you spent most of the night thinking of your marriage; of your widowhood. You’ve worked through most of those emotions but you’ll always miss your husband.

Around noon, you receive the crate of bottles you ordered the day before. The man who drives the large truck offers to bring them inside. You’ve noticed that as you get a few finer lines and a little more cushion, others tend to treat you as fragile. You don’t complain. Liquor is heavier than you would assume at a glance.

You thank the driver and send him off, returning to the den to sift through the box. You keep the glass cabinet open and pluck out the empty glass, or those with barely a sip left in them. Nick does the same with the milk; if there’s even a drop left, he’ll put the carton back. Not his problem, a new one always just appears.

You take the decanter and swish around the dregs of scotch. It wouldn’t be much of a waste to dump it, that amount will barely cover the bottom of a glass. You set it aside with the matching crystal glasses. You need to wash them.

As you line up the newer bottles on the shelf, you feel a buzz in your back pocket. You pause and wiggle your phone free, putting it to your ear as you work with one hand. Clunk, slide, clink.

“Hello,” you trill as you squint at another label. You’re supposed to wear glasses to read but you consistently leave them by your couch.

“Mom,” your daughter greets bluntly, “what are you doing?”

“Uh, Joey?” You lower the bottle in your hand, “everything okay?”

“Y-yeah, I just... I’m on my break and wanted to call you while I have the chance.”

“Break? You’re at your internship?” You ask brightly, “how is it? Amazing?”

“Erm, sure,” she utters.

She sounds disappointed. Concern trickle down your neck, she’s only ever been excited about school and her future. It’s what you admire in her. She’ll go so much further than sorting out liquor and dump spoiled almond milk for some rich guy.

“What’s going on?” You prompt again, facing the cabinet as you set down another bottle.

“I... I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. It’s a lot of work,” she mutters and you hear her biting her nails. An old habit she hadn’t had since middle school.

“Honey, your nails,” you gird, “it’s new. You’re learning. Give yourself a bit of patience. I’m not saying it isn’t hard, but don’t be so hard on yourself. You can do it but you know what, even if it isn’t for you, I’ll be proud. You know I only want the best for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” she grumbles, “I just don’t want to let you down.”

“Never,” you assure her. “Take a few breaths, have some water, and no more caffeine. It will only make your anxiety worse.”

“Yeah,” she sniffs, “yeah, I did have an extra shot in my latte.”

“Alright, well, you call me later. Take your break for yourself. You know I’m always here for you, honey.”

“Love ya,” she resigns with a sigh.

“Love you too. Hey, if you need a break, let me know. We can make it work.”

“No, no, I can do this,” she insists, “it's only week two. I'm just being a baby.”

“My baby,” you tease and she gives and ‘ech’ which makes you laugh, “alright, we'll talk later.”

“Yep, bye, mom.”

“Bye,” you tap the red button and look down at your phone.

For as much as got nostalgic about your youth, you don't miss the uncertainty. You slide your phone away and something scuffs. Nick clears his throat and draws your attention.

“Sir,” you greet, wondering if he'd heard any of that, “just in time, I'm sorting your cabinet.”

“Mm, so you are,” he struts over, a hand in his pocket. He wears dark slacks and a button-up without a tie. “Family emergency?”

“Nope, everything's under control,” you shrug and take out a bottle of cognac. You place it with the rest.

You hear glass clink and turn. Nick uncaps the crystal decanter and drains what's left of the scotch. He eyes the container and puts it back on the table.

“What's your poison? Wine? Cocktails? You seem the type,” he muses.

“I only drink on special occasions,” you say. “Whatever's on special.”

“Mm, and Saturday? You sounded like you had a few. Pretty early too.”

You wince and look at him. You hadn't thought you were that obvious, especially over the phone. Well, he did say he reads people. You suppose you're not that hard to decipher.

“Two dollar mimosas,” you slip the empties into box and close the flaps.

“Mm,” he scoffs, “bubbly.”

“Gives me heartburn,” you say dismissively as you pick up the box. “Did you need anything, sir? Should I make lunch?”

He squints as you and sucks in his cheeks, emphasizing the squareness of his jaw.

“I'm having people over,” he states.

“Right, I'll get the good porcelain out,” you say.

“Work,” he intones. “You can't be here.”

“Yes, sir. I'll have the food done and kept warm in my absence.”

He nods. You don't ask questions. It's part of your job. Just do what he tells you and be on your way.

“Sure,” he says dully and spins on his heel.

He walks off and you carry the box through to the backroom. There's nothing unusual and yet it feels abnormal. Those last few days just feel off.

Work. The word echoes with an edge in your head. Ah, well, that's the crux of most human stress. You suppose, much like your daughter, Nick must be feeling the pressure. He might be your boss but someone up the line is his. That's just the order of things.

🥃

A night to yourself is welcome. Joey messages to say she’s okay now and she won’t bother calling you. You know by her Insta that she’s found friends to keep her company. You hope they can also offer some reassurance.

You settle in with a book on the sofa, eager to retrace your way through the last chapter you can’t quite recall. You don’t get further than a few paragraphs before you pass out. You sink down into motley dreams that sway between reality and fiction; the villain of the novel resembles your boss a bit too closely in your mind.

You wake with a start at the steady rattle of your phone against the end table. You reach up blindly, feeling around to still its buzz. You check the display, expecting your daughter, but instead you’re met with ‘Private’. You already know.

You check the time. It’s close to two in the morning. You sit up and yawn as you let the call roll through to your voicemail. You bend forward and rub your eyes, groggily rubbing your forehead. You’re stiff as hell. You know better than to sleep on the couch.

The phone starts again, shaking your hand. You answer it. If he’s trying a second time, it means he must really need something.

“Hello,” you creak out through your dry throat.

There’s rustling on the other end and some murmurs, but nothing clear. You tilt your head and press the phone closer, hitting the volume button with your thumb as you try to discern the noise on the other end. What is going on?

“...baby...” Nick’s tone is silty and low and met with a fluttery moan. You gulp. It can’t be. Flesh claps and he growls, “you like that, huh?”

You hang up before you can hear anything else. Oh god. You throw the phone across the room and shake out your hands. Yikes. You’ve been the victim of a pocket dial but nothing ever like that. You wonder how it even happened.

Well, you try not to think about it too much. You get up and move your book onto the table. You don’t even dare to touch your phone, leaving it on the seat of the chair. You’re too tired for all this. Hopefully, sleeping in your own bed will wash it all away.

🥃

You talk in with Nick’s dry cleaning over your shoulder. You’re not shocked to find the house in disarray. Social nights are often met with grim mornings. It seems of late that both come more and more frequent.

You set down the garment bags on hangers and stop in the kitchen to put on a brew of coffee in anticipation of another of your boss’ hangovers. The aroma rises as you cross the tile floor and snatch up the suits and shirts. You hesitate at the bottom of the stairs. Like days before, you suspect he also has some lingering company. You wonder if it’s better to wait and put away his clothes once you are certain.

A long rumble distracts you from your dread. You turn and walk towards the broad archway that opens into the front room. Somehow you hadn’t noticed the body on the couch and now you regret that you have. Nick’s bare ass flashes you from across the room as he lays with his shoulders curled forward and his head under a pillow. He must’ve had quite the work dinner.

You tiptoe across the room and pick up the mussed throw from the floor. You drape it around his waist to cover the most intimate part of him. He groans and brings his arm up over the pillow.

“Baby,” he mutters and roles onto his back. You swiftly catch the blanket before it can expose him further and keep it over his middle, letting it fall across his pelvis. You can only do so much as his dick springs up beneath the waffle knit. “Why don’t you get on it?”

You nearly choke at the suggestion. He still has the pillow over his head as his hand crawls down his muscular torso, reaching for... that.

“Baby is gone,” you cross your arms, “coffee is on, sir. Would you like a cup?”

He grunts and retracts his hand, pulling the pillow from his head and hugging it to his stomach. He blinks, his brow furrowed in surprise and chagrin. He stares at you and lets his head loll.

“Mm, guess it’ll wake me up just the same,” he mutters as his eyes flick up and down. “Morning, honey.”

“Morning, sir,” you hike up your armful, “let me get these hung and I’ll get your coffee.”

You turn as he sighs and the couch creaks beneath him. You don’t look back, wary of seeing more than you already have. It’s not unlike him to have his little get-togethers and to indulge but it’s a bit much. If you thought he’d be honest, you might ask if something’s wrong. Then again, your his maid, not his therapist.

“And Advil,” he calls after you, “maybe put some whiskey in the coffee, too.”

You nod and march to the stairs. Minding your boss isn’t too much different than raising a child, though you think Joey was much easier to deal with. And not so demanding.

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #au #maid au #the 355 #nick fowler x reader #blurred lines #series #fic #dark!fic #dark fic

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2-dsimp · 1 month

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Yandere spin-offs (wip)

Introducing the Hero

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(Fem! Reader)

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Synopsis: Featuring the Yandere Hero who happened to coincidentally save you from a potential robbery and became infatuated with you once he discovered that you knew of his true nature.

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Adonis was a hero known by the public as the chivalrous Sunset Knight who protected the people and also kept the evildoers in line with his immense power. But that couldn’t be any further from the truth, as the Sunset Knight was nothing but a sadistic murderer pretending to be an enforcer of justice.

He would frequently use excessive amounts of force when apprehending criminals no matter if the crime being committed was petty or severe all his victims would equally suffer underneath the brutality of his hands that always itches to inflict pain. Almost like a coping mechanism to keep his innermost darkest desires for destruction at bay.

One day when Adonis was off duty in his civilian persona dressed casual with his platinum blonde wavy hair that was covering his eyes. As he happened to walk by and witness a woman getting assaulted by some ruffians looking for a quick buck. He was tempted to ignore the situation entirely as it didn’t concern him one bit. But who was he to turn down a chance to let off some steam by beating some stupid idiots half to death without any consequences since it’ll fall under the category of self defense.

Trying to conceal the bloodlust leaking from his pores he made an effort to appear like the usual outstanding smararian who risked his safety to protect a typical damsel in distress. Before administering some good hands on “disciplinary action” on the poor unfortunate souls who happened to try and mug you.

Suddenly the sound of a picture being taken made him snap out of his tunnel vision haze in a brief moment of shock. And his golden slited pupils roamed the area spotting you with a camera that was pointed at him while he was covered in splotches of the dirty blood of the offenders. But before he could say a single word he saw you vanish like a thief in the night.

This was the first time that Adonis was genuinely at a lost of what to do. Sure he could’ve killed her but that would’ve been too suspicious should a certain detective happen to connect the dots.

Even though he had been spotted indulging in his destructive impluses he was in his civilian persona. So he pondered what exactly that woman was trying to accomplish by taking a picture of a mere stranger who had happened to step in for her when she was in danger.

Until it clicked within his head that somehow she knew who he really was. As her movements were too fluid to be recognized as an mere amateur taking pictures for shits and giggles. Which must mean that the woman he saved had been keeping an eye on his actions for a long period of time.

‘She knows…’

He thought to himself his bloodied hands covering the bottom half of his face in surprise and a certain degree of respect for the boldness this woman he encountered seemed to possess.

‘She knows how I really am and yet she still chooses to stick close to me?’

He couldn’t help but let out a full blown fit of mad laughter at his discovery.

“What a farce haha! I can’t tell if she’s stupid or just doesn’t have a shred of self preservation”

He cackled, before taking a moment to calm his mind wiping off the flecks off blood of his handsome face with their arm sleeve the hero made himself look presentable.

The hero was determined to have fun with his new recent obsession…You

————

The Sunset Knight was patrolling the streets wearing his signature knight helmet while the rest of his body was adorned in flexible loose clothing. Leaping from roof to roof he happens to spot a supervillain mutant terrorizing the citizens demanding them to give him back his brethren or else he’d kill them all.

A pretty bland demand as per usual done by petty villains so without breaking a sweat Adonis drop kicked the octopus mutant who was holding multiple hostages within their tentacles one of which happened to be a certain woman that he had been actively searching for ever since their first encounter.

He couldn’t believe his luck as he disregarded all the other hostages that would’ve all probably fell to their potential deaths if not thanks to the minor heros who appeared on the scene right after he knocked out the criminal as the only one he cared about was you.

The Hero swiftly caught you within his arms and couldn’t help the deranged grin that spreader across his face as he finally had the object of his curiosity trapped wriggling defiantly against him in his arms. Which indicated that his hunches were correct, licking his lips like a predator as he looked down at you from behind his helmet.

He couldn’t help but get excited.

Oh how he couldn’t wait to get you home.

#yandere imagines #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabble #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yanderecore #yandere content #yandere #yandere hero #wip stuff #fem reader

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emsgwenstan · 3 months

Text

Unending, undone.

Larissa Weems x fem reader. (Angst)

Words: 2k?

Warnings: angst, delusions, unrequited love.

Note: I hate this. one of my wips I need to get rid of, I didn’t want to delete the entire thing, I really couldn’t be bothered to edit and make it better. Anyway- hopefully it’s kinda enjoyable, apologies in advance I wrote this like 7 months ago.

———

It was the weekend and as of that, yourself, Larissa, vlad and the elderly library lady from nevermore were chaperoning the students that wanted to go into Jericho. Before the kids got off the bus it was made clear once again that they will all be departing at 3:30pm and if not accounted for find your own way back to the school and expect consequences.

all departed off the bus to do their own things, old mrs Byrnes to the local library, vlad to the sports and recreation shop, Larissa entered the wethervain and you opted to stroll the streets.

After about two hours of walking in the bone chilling autumn air, you decide to cross the street to take refuge in the weathervane, hoping Larissa is willing to have you as company if she’s still in there, you hadn't seen her since she walked into the café. Reaching the door her silver hair caught your attention, Larissa was sat at her usual booth close to the back almost tucked away, your gaze was strictly on her, eyebrows slightly furrowed eyes glued to a spot out side, but the small twitch of her lips made her seem to be deep in thought. after working with Larissa for a long period of time you found yourself observing her closely, admiring her from afar, knowing, understanding what makes her happy or mad, keeping a mask was enough to fool others but to you, she was like an open book.

Entering, you walked up to the counter, ordered and paid. Turning to face her, she still hadn’t moved, her shoulders rigged and back straight, statue looking. You waltz over, placing your phone and purse on the table in hopes it breaks her trans like state with a simple. “Hey.” It doesn’t. You took to squatting down and wrapping you hand gently around her gloved wrist that was nursing a cup of black coffee, Larissa let out a small gasp turning to face who ever it was that startled her, only to look down a bit to find you.

“Oh how rude of me I didn’t realise you were there, apologies.” She said softly with a forced smile. You didn’t respond, merely giving her a look of concern, the longer she peered into your eyes the more she knew what you were trying to say. “How could I be so daft to think she couldn’t see right through me?” She thought.

“Do you want me to sit across you or beside you?” You asked standing, sounding maybe a little to stern, however when it comes to the people you deeply care about only seriousness and attentiveness are needed plus a ton of comfort. Larissa shifted over in the seat to make room for you and took to peering back out into the town.

"two large hot chocolates?" the waiter asked slipping the cups gently onto the table. You whipped your head around to him. "yes! thank you so much." you said feeling a little reprieved having to take your eyes away from Larissa, although her interest was piqued at the words 'hot' and 'chocolate'. "oh um would you mind taking this one please?" you asked him, whilst dragging the coffee from Larissa grasp. "yeah no worries, enjoy ladies." he said before returning behind the counter.

Larissa was giving you the biggest look, at this point. “I wasn’t fini-“. She began. “No.” You simply said cutting her off. “The amount of sips you took from the time of me being here, to the lack of steam, means you have had the same cup for quite some time, so you have most definitely finished dearest. Not to mention it was straight black coffee, very unlike you.” You stated proudly, whilst pushing her a cup and pulling one towards yourself.

Watching her hesitantly take a drink, not wanting you to see her defeat, you smirked in victory. Sitting in silence for a while you noticed her demeanour shift, reverting back to her former melancholy state. You took to laying your hand on her thigh and tilting your head in a concerned way. Larissa was unfazed by the action, however still hyper aware of you touch.

Stroking your thumb over her exposed knee, “come, we only have ten minutes.” She blinked a few times to settle back into the air of reality before downing the remanence of her drink. You scooted out of the booth and offered a hand to Larissa, you could feel the warmth radiating from her soft leather gloves. Once standing, she habitably smooths down her dress, you take ahold of her upper arm and waltz out of the cafe and towards the bus.

Doing a head count of all the students that re-entered the vehicle you usher vlad and help mrs Byrnes, before resting your hand on the small of Larissa’s back to help her get in, not that she couldn’t do it herself of course, but you felt the need to gently coax her out of her mind and try getting her to focus until she was back at the school.

With all the children off and back on campus, you were the last ones off I the bus. “I’ll take you to your room.” You said, reaching for her hand. Instantly though, she dodged your grasp only to looked at you as if you tried to burn her, confused you took a step back thing you overstepped. After a moment of awkward silence you spoke. “I’ll uh.. I’ll just go and leave you to it.” You said turning to walk away, your face bright red from embarrassment.

Although you must have taken only about three steps until you felt a warm ungloved hand and fingers threaded through your own and another wrapped around your elbow. Stopping, you peered into her eyes trying to figure out what she’s trying to say, but instead of asking you resumed walking with her attached to you.

Reaching her quarters, she let herself inside only to turn around and see you didn’t follow her. Popping her head back out the door to see you walking back to your own room. “Y/n?” She questioned. You turned back to gaze at her. “What are you doing? Did… you want to come in?” She said softly. “I just thought that- well… you? I?” You stuttered not really knowing what you thought. Larissa left the doorway making a b-line for you. “Would you like to come in? I assumed you would come with me.” She started, sounding confident but gradually became more timid.

Nodding as a yes you both walked separately into her home. Your eyes widen in awe at her living decor, all pieces, trinkets and art were the embodiment of Larissa. She was amused at your staring, pointing out a couple of artists to the paintings you seamed fixated on. Your amazement wasn’t just about the objects themselves more the fact that Larissa and yourself have very similar tastes, however she can afford to buy the finer things in life.

Everything was gawked at, Larissa took note of how you shared the same interests. “Y/n? Do you happen to like shoes?….designer shoes?” She asked your face dropped. “Yes! I do.” She smiled and told you to follow her. You entered what seemed to be her very own room and walk in closet. It was beautiful and organised, she bent down and pulled out a few shoe boxes. “I have these brought over from London every couple of months and I haven’t gotten to sending them back, there the wrong sizes, I think they may fit you.” She said. “Really!… I mean no.” You said trying hard not to be overzealous.

She pulled out a pair of black heals. Ones you’ve had your eye on for years and there they were in her grasp. “Here try them on.” She pleaded. “I mustn’t.” You said “sit.” She commanded taking a hold of your shoe and pulling it off putting it on herself. “There perfect. You may have all of them.” She said. “No, Larissa I can’t.” You said. “Either you take them or I’ll find a way to put them in your room.” She said. Giving in you thanked her and you understand how much they cost and will take care of each one.

After a while of sitting on the floor she lay down with her eyes fluttering. “How about I put you to bed hmmm?” You asked. Larissa looked at her watch. “It’s only five.” You placed the shoes back in there boxes and stacked them on top of each other. “Yes but your exhausted, if you like I’ll come back later and bring some food?” You wondered taking a hold of her elbows as she held onto the insides of yours. Larissa didn’t answer, she merely smiled and walked out into her room and paced to a beautiful tall chested draws and pulled out a navy satin sleep set.

You stood awkwardly in the closet doorway as you watched her ‘should I go back and rearrange the shoes or?…’ you thought, not knowing if you should just leave to give her privacy or what. Larissa tossed the set on her ridiculously large and lavish bed and turned to you. “Y/n would you mind unzipping my dress, I just have trouble reaching behind.” She asked. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at her request, your strong, stern and hopeful front melting away.

You reached up and grabbed her zip dragging it down the expanse of her back, her bra clasp came into view as well as the freckles that littered her skin that you hadn’t seen before. Your hands lingered a little to long and Larissa slowly turned to face you. “I know, someone like me not being able to reach is quite sporadic isn’t it.” She blushed ducking her head. “Not at all, not everyone is as flexible as others, I know I’m certainly not.” You said with a chuckle.

Larissa smiled and moved her hand to her shoulder to peal the material away, slow enough for it to be your queue to leave if need be. That you did, you turned on your heals and made your way back into the walk-in robe to peer at her other belongings.

“You can come back.” She spoke softly, if it were you, you’d probably yell it for some reason even if it’s unnecessary. “Larissa?” You asked, walking to her bed pulling back the covers for her, she plopped on the bed taking out her earrings and removing the rest of her jewellery. “Mmm?” She hummed in acknowledgment. You busied yourself with pulling out the pins in her hair and for once you weren’t the first one to relies how intimate the whole afternoon has been.

“Do you think you could tell me what’s going on in your mind.” You asked concentrating on her hair, trying hard not to pull or hurt. Larissa let out a sigh as if she was dreading the question. “I’m just… not myself today. I’ve been thinking of the past a little to much lately and things I should have done and what things I could have done differently, unhealthy I know but that’s all.” She said in a low velvety voice. “I see. You know I’m here to listen to anything you have to say, I support you and care very much about your wellbeing, no matter how laughable that sounds.” You said.

Larissa raised her chin and looked up through her lashes at your face. A doting, sweet expression graced your face. “Thank you, darling.” She whispered. “Lay down, I’ll draw the curtains and I’ll go ok.” You pulled the covers up over her body to get warm.

With the curtains drawn and all things done, you made your way back to Larissa’s side of the bed. Her eyes fluttered shut as you dipped beside her, larissa looked peaceful and relaxed, it’s a little foreign being so close to larissa in her own home and in her most vulnerable state. You couldn’t manage to tear your eyes away from her soft lips and gorgeous free hair, until you relised her pyjamas had slightly fallen down her shoulder. More freckles adorned her pale skin, had you been aware of her lingering gaze you wouldn’t had stared for so long with out a word.

“What’s the matter?” She asked. “Oh! Nothing, I… sorry I was just, admiring.” You confessed. Your skin turned red once again, you could have just lied but what the use in not telling her how utterly beautiful she is. “Admiring?” She asked with a little smile. “Yes. Your just so…” you began. “A curiosity.” She whispered with her eyes turning sad and seemingly hurt. “No not at all, your beautiful, stunning, exquisite even.” You grinned down at her seeing the way her eyes sparkle at your words.

“Oh.” She said clearly not ready for you to say such wonderful things to her. ‘I love you’. You thought. For the longest time you had been alone and so had Larissa, it feels like your saving each other from drowning in loneliness, a life raft for one another. Her expression changed to complete confusion with wide eyes. “What?” You asked. “You-just…. Did you just say I love you.” She asked almost out of breath. ‘No. No fucking way I just did that.’ Without thinking you shot up and ran to the door and left without so much as a peep.

“Wait-no! Please, I, y/n!” Larissa shouted clambering off and out of the bed, she ripped out her dressing gown and slipped on a pair of flats within 30 seconds and sprinted to your quarters through passage ways to avoid potential eyes. Arriving, she knocked on the door relentlessly to no avail, only to find that the door was unlocked. Stepping in the room cautiously she found you curled in bed with multiple layers of bedding covering your shaking body. Larissa took it upon herself to remove her shoes and gown before fighting you to let go of your vice grip on the blankets, you were laying on your stomach with your face pressed into the pillows. Larissa sunk down into the bed slipping beside you re-covering you both with the covers before she turned on her side and wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you flush to her, front to front.

You hid your head in your hands against her breasts wishing your were invisible. “Y/n. I need you to look at me for what I’m about to say.” She asked, earning a whimper of refusal from you. So she did what was necessary, Larissa grasped your hands prying them away from your face to be met with a wet mess of a face, your eyes open and involuntarily you mouth twitches into a small smile just by looking at her, but faded when you remember what just happened revoking your sight and shutting your eyes again. “Look at me love.” She asked, cupping your cheek using the backs of her fingers to wipe away the tears.

You took a deep breath and looked at her again. “Y/n..” she started. “I love you to.” She said running her fingers through your hair. You stared at her and waited for her to continue. “You asked me what I was thinking about today and I told you I wasn’t feeling like myself… but the truth is, I was watching you for a while this morning, admiring. But I relised that you could never want me. You could never possibly feel the same. Then when you walked in I started to think about previous relationships I’ve had and how terrible they turned out.”

You couldn’t believe it, Larissa Weems, your boss and friend, the most elegant and graceful woman you had ever met loves you. “I-I…” you stuttered , but being unable to conjure words the only option was to show her how you feel. You moved your hands to her face and slowly moved up, each others breath’s mingling, noses and lips lightly brushing, you pull back just to look into her eyes silently asking if it were ok. Larissa crashed her lips onto yours, passionate and strong but oh so loving.

Or at least that's what you wished would of happened if she hadn't let you go back to you quarters when you arrived back at the school. if only Larissa had caught up to you when you turned to leave her, if only she threaded her fingers through your own and stopped you. The small imaginary scenarios are what keeps your mind active but heart heavy, you wouldn't be laying in bed sobbing dreaming of such delusional things, but i suppose we cant all get the ones we love in the end right?

______

its been a week since your little awkward incident and both yourself and Larissa have been avoiding each other like the plague, although every night Larissa walks past your quarters to get back to her own, trying to have enough courage to just ask if your ok, but never does, not until she heard struggled breaths and choked sobs emanating from within your room. it was quiet late, very late in fact, almost ten past three in the morning.

she stood outside your door with her back resting on the architrave. "i don't know what I'm supposed to do, i mean i look so stupid crying over a woman i know doesn't want me, why would she? i give her no reason for her to be interested in me, I'm nothing, no one, but is it so wrong to be in love with Larissa?" you asked talking to no one in particular out your window. Larissa's pursed lips pried open in disbelief at your words.

she turned and and without hesitation knocked, wanting- needing to see you, needing your eyes to look at her, needing to be close, not caring who or what you were talking to. after a brief moment you swung open the door with furrowed brows until you saw her, your face dropped at her appearance.

standing there in silence her eyes seemed to tell you something you couldn't understand. Larissa brushed past you and welcomed herself into your room, confused, you closed the door to face her. "I'm afraid I've been quite the asshole." she said. "pardon?" you asked. “I’m sorry y/n, it’s been hard avoiding you and if you would let me… I’d like to apologise and hopefully we can work on this.” She said gesturing between the two of you.

You stood planted to the ground until you took small steps towards her and embraced her in a hug as an acceptance. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now but I only wish to help, please don’t push me away. Even though you don’t feel the same way about me, assuming you just heard, then that’s ok.” You said pulling away from her looking into Larissa’s sad eyes. “I think I can love you, I will learn to, I have to learn how to love again first y/n, but I won’t push you away I’ll try to keep you close I promise.”

At that you lead her out to your balcony and sat down watching the stars soaking in this new kind of relationship, whether it will eventuate into something more then a friendship doesn’t matter because at the end of the day Larissa knows you will always be there, the cards are now resting in her hands, not all expectations are met, not every story ends happily, but for now it’s just the two of you, no one else and you will forever be bonded, now we will never know.

@sabraaabra

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principle weems #wednesday #larissa weems x y/n #gwenchrist(ie)#larissa x reader #wlw fanfic #larissa weems x reader

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y-rhywbeth2 · 8 days

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Lore: Baldur's Gate #3

The Law and Legal System

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

The City #1 | Demographics | Law & Legal System | Administration & Government | ??? - WIP

There is a surprising amount of information on laws, and also on the legal system and law enforcement of Baldur's Gate. ...And it's fucking terrible! This is so long because there's so. Much. Terrible.

OK, let's see... corruption, corruption, corruption... • 9/10 crimes never go to trial: the police are your judge, jury and executioners. You do have rights; let's hope they care. • The four classifications of crimes. (Nobles get away with so much. Also, frankly, the clergy.) • The Flaming Fist - the police, the military and the secret police in one nifty corrupt package. • Courts of Law and Magistrates • Alternate courses of justice: The Crews. Also, have you considered praying for your tormentor's horrible death? No, seriously. • The Code Legal: the actual laws, the crimes and their punishments • How the temples might self-police and how a recap on how the law gets... flexible with evil-aligned faiths.

Arrests and Processing Crimes

Baldur's Gate, like most of the Western Heartlands (and frankly, a lot of Faerûn beyond that), follows the precedent set by the Warerdhavian Code Legal in setting its laws. Local variations may occur, but they're near enough the same.

The Code lays down the crimes, which are matched to whatever punishment the law of the land has deemed appropriate.

For the most part, where the Gate is concerned, this usually leads to "cut and dry" cases. The crime and accused will be assessed by a member of the Flaming Fist (or the Watch, if it's in the upper city) who will make their own judgement as to guilt and follow out the punishment as laid down in the Code.

Crimes only go to court in one of two conditions, firstly that the officer assessing the crime doesn't feel that the situation is clear enough for them to make a judgement - and secondly, when high ranking members of society (Patriars, clergy, etc) for whatever reason want to step in and have it taken to court.

The majority of crimes will never see court. "Flaming Fist patrols react to threats with indiscriminate violence," and even those that don't often turn a blind eye.

The extremes seen in the 15th century are a reaction to the increase in the intrigues of the Upper City and the crime rate of the more recent Outer City both spreading into the Lower City. Now the average citizen contends with both of those and police brutality every day. Even prior to the foundation of the Outer City, policing was heavy due to the strength and spread of the Thieves Guid.

There is something of a 75% chance that arrests will not follow protocol: those members of the Fist not inclined to police brutality and starting "bidding wars" (whoever can offer the highest bribe is let go: everyone else gets arrested) are often too overwhelmed with a myriad of other crimes they're trying to handle. The Watch is less inclined to violence and corruption (at least, in comparison), but they're also the Upper City's personal guard and prone to discriminate heavily against the poor (or those who look it) in their arrests.

Due to the upper classes being notoriously self-interested and corrupt, and judges often being in the pocket of the Thieves Guild, there is also little trust in any justice coming from there. Ulder Ravengard certainly doesn't have any. Ulder has been commander since 1482 DR, and held high rank and influence before that. He is "the incarnation of militarism", and his stance when directing the Fist has been of the "the ends justify the means" variety. There is a chance that in 1482, due to Bhaal - at the time too weak to directly influence people - subconsciously urging him to give into his dictatorship leanings and "murderous intentions", that Ulder also led the Fist into an even darker place involving military law and a lot of mutilation and murder, but I'm uncertain how much of that is part of mainstream canon.

Often, if the accused is a noble or a high ranking member of the clergy and the crime is not "serious", they will be let go - perhaps with a slap on the wrist. These groups also tend to police their own behind closed doors to avoid public backlash and scandals.

"Nobles enjoy many protections under the law and in some cases can escape punishment for assault, provocation, or the outright murder of a commoner."

Generally though, they'll avoid such obvious and crude crimes. A lot of noble crimes and schemes involve hiring adventurers - outsiders with no connection to the city or protection under the law - to do their dirty work. More serious crimes will either never see the light of day, or if it can't be hidden, scapegoating and appeasement will follow.

Crimes are only crimes within the confines of the land in question. A crime in Baldur's Gate is not a crime outside its walls, and if a crime without those walls is committed then the legal system of the Gate has no jurisdiction with which to arrest of punish the offender. As such clergy and nobles who must be punished may well receive temporary exile, where they will be appointed to a different temple/sent to live with relatives somewhere else in the realms.

Crimes are also not necessarily crimes if the victim in question is not a citizen (generally classified as never having had their name on official city documentation or owned property within the city).

Technically visitors and foreign agents to the city should have licenses marking them as such and stating that their presence in the city is legal. Without these permits their lives are forfeit to the whims of the "important people". Technically new arrivals should be told by officials stationed at the city gates to report to the High Hall to be interviewed (in case the individual means harm to the city) and then handed their license, but your average visitor is never even told of this law.

"Outer City residents are classified as "visiting economic interests," which affords them some rights. However, with a word from a duke of a peer, that classification could change to "visiting diplomat," which offers numerous perks, or "invader," which is essentially a death sentence." - Murder in Baldur's Gate

Baldur's Gate will nevertheless strive not to be an obviously oppressive hellhole however, as trade cities wish to show a welcoming and tolerant face to the world: merchants will not come if they feel they will be risking their safety. In fact visiting merchants, particularly wealthy ones, are liable to receive somewhat better treatment than the average permanent citizen of the Gate.

Covert corruption is favoured:

"Any rigging of results must be done behind the scenes rather than in public. For instance, you could avoid someone’s being brought to trial, or arrange a prisoner escape."

Offenses are split into four categories:

1) Crimes Against the Lords The name may be subject to change, depending on region and governance; it's likely slightly different in Baldur's Gate. This is essentially crimes against the state officials and nobility.

2) Crimes Against the City Arson, littering, public brawling, carrying weapons in public, etc.

3) Crimes Against the Gods Blasphemy against the gods and their servants (who are their own, outside the box tier of nobles, in a way)

4) Crimes Against Citizens "Low level" offenses that don't threaten to upset anybody important or disrupt the city functioning.

Different realms and city states will also have their own unique laws, for example it's illegal in Baldur's Gate to disobey an order from an officer of the Fist if they're in uniform under threat of martial discipline (loss of an ear, a hand, their tongue, or even their life). While theoretically, this law exists for emergencies, it is very much abused for personal gain.

As said, generally the handling of crimes won't progress past the jurisdiction of the Flaming Fist - who hold many roles: mercenary company, city military, city police, "secret police" (spymaster is a position within the organisation and plainclothes officers are everywhere)... and generally, studying the pattern, it seems that one of the Grand Dukes on the Council of Four is going to be their commander.

Generally, candidates seeking to join the Fist are screened for "strong loyalty and stronger morals." Not sure that's working.

There are usually a few rules regarding investigations amongst Faerûnian law enforcement which should be followed (and watched closely public scrutiny to ensure it is):

• Confiscated items may not be kept. When searching a location, nothing except evidence is to be confiscated. • Items must be returned to their owners, if identified. • Citizens must be kept informed of the whys and hows of an investigation: when you disrupt daily life, somebody must be on hand to answer their questions and explain - leaving out no detail - what is happening and why. "Authorities have very few justifiable grounds for not telling citizens anything they ask about (though “the king’s will” [government business, for which Baldurians would use a different term] is a justifiable ground)." • Magic and magical items involved in the crime must be examined, and typically dispelled, and citizens must be told "the whole truth about what magic was found, where it came from, and what it was intended for" • Disputes over property must be handled in public.

By the 15th century, the organisation has been noted to have become insanely corrupt. Should the Flaming Fist lapse into illegal behaviours like vigilantism, kangaroo courts and police brutality (including cutting out people's tongues and hanging them in their own doorways), the government will generally do nothing to intervene, as long as it doesn't start to affect the patriars (who make up said government). If the commander - or acting commander - happens to be corrupt then the whole organisation generally goes downhill.

If Orin and the Dark Urge have been doing their jobs right, then the ranks of the Fist may have been infiltrated by Bhaalists, who will be subtly engaging in and pushing for aforementioned police corruption where they can get away with it:

"Several Deathbringers have managed to become city rulers or the heads of city law-keeping forces—and their minions now stalk the night streets slaying undesirables and rivals to increase their wealth and tighten their rule. Increasingly, Deathbringers seek positions where they can live comfortably, make lots of coin, and kill often with few consequences. Adventurers far from home are godsend targets, as are outlaws or brigands; few care if such folk meet a bloody doom." - Elminster's Forgotten Realms

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Legal Courts

Should a case proceed to the courts it will be taken before one of the dukes, presided over in the courts at the High Hall. There was an attempted (and failed) coup by Grand Duke Valarken a few decades back to seize control of the city saw the patriars succeed in a naked power grab and the establishment of the Parliament of Peers, a governing body composed of mostly patriars and a smattering of Guildmasters and the other wealthy, who can buy and network/kiss enough patriar asses to elbow their way into power.

The dukes have since been able to delegate cases to one of the peers, who will serve as magistrate in their place. This worked out pretty well at first, and then went downhill:

"Proxy judges are not paid a salary, yet a temporary assignment to the High Hall's bench is a plum duty for any patriar, because hefty gifts and bribes flow to the judges from the [Thieves] Guid, from those grateful to be exonerated, and from those hoping to be exonerated."

For patriars who were called upon to handle a case the High Hall has several small libraries containing legal books, civic documentation (tax, property, censuses, etc etc), past court records and other relevant information to aid them with their duty. The libraries are also a disorganised mess, and volunteers from the local Oghmanyte clergy (followers of the god of knowledge, which technically includes legal lore) have their hands full trying to organise it and seem to be the only people who know how to find anything in there.

I have no information on how the court worked prior to the formation of the Peers in the 15th century, but if the Council of Four delegated back then then they most likely still picked from amongst the same people - the wealthy, mostly patriar, citizens of the Upper City who would be in their social and business circles enough for them to know each other.

If the accused desires legal defence, they have a few options.

In order for a legal representative to be considered valid, the court must be informed of your choice ahead of the court date. Sometimes it's only permitted to people who would struggle to represent themselves due to disability or language barriers (Common is not useful for daily conversation, let alone complex legal proceedings).

Baldur's Gate, unusually, has a few rare official barristers one may hire to represent one in court. These are generally far out of the pay range of the average citizen.

"The Realms does not have lawyers, robed and wigged or otherwise. There are some “advocates,” paid orators who will speak in court (always in the presence of an accused, not appearing in their stead) and who might know something of the law and can give advice to an accused. Some advocates are real performers who mimic the voices of people, act out scenes, tell jokes, and engage in furious debate in court—which, being great entertainment, is seldom cut short even by angry judges or rulers, because the commoners like it." - Elminster's Forgotten Realms

Tyrran clergy are also willing to defend the innocent and ensure that trials are fair and free of corruption, and the two groups are likely to overlap:

"In civilised areas (settlements), Tyrrans (inevitably called "tyrants" behind their back by nonbelievers) become legal experts and serve as the lawyers of Faerûn by dispensing advice and "speaking for" accused persons in trials." - Faiths and Avatars

(They still tend to charge for the service, although some will likely go pro bono as Tyrrans are also meant to be devoted to righting wrongs and ensuring the law serves the good of the people) Tyrrans are not a major faith in Baldur's Gate and don't wield a lot of influence, however - and to make matters worse, Tyr has been dead for a generation, and while the god returned in the Second Sundering, his clergy are still in recovery.

Magistrates may have the right to call upon divination spells - cast by mages or clergy - to root out the truth, although the wealthy and the nobility often have privileges and rights regarding this that are unavailable to the common class.

- Alternative Justice

As the citizens do not trust their legal system an inch, the common people band together in informal groups called "crews" for mutual protection. How they function depends on the crew (guarding each other's property, self-policing a shared street or neighbourhood, pooling funds, simply backing you up if you get mugged, etc)

The Gate has an unofficial system called burl, if you're fleeing persecution, be it from criminals or the Fist, and knock on a door three times the people inside owe you shelter and safety, no questions asked.

Another alternate route of justice exists - turning to the gods.

Tyrrans seek out criminals who escaped their sentence and slipped through the cracks - if you can't be brought to justice, they will bring it to you. They also work to change or protect laws for the betterment of people. Prior to the Spellplague Tyr's portfolio concerned the letter of the law, however during his death that passed to Torm (god of loyalty, and thus now loyalty to whatever my liege says is the law) and Tyr's focus is on benevolent readings of the spirit of the law. As said, they have been out of commission for around a generation, so Tyrran activity in the city will only have resumed with legal and divine backing for about a decade or two.

Ilmatari are permitted a tenday's worth of respite, where Ilmater temporarily releases from their vows - technically this is time meant for self-care and mental health, but Ilmatari have been known to use this freedom from their oath of non-violence to shank abusers and tyrants. They also engage in non-violent forms of protest and disruption against corruption and cruelty while under their oaths, and it's generally not a good idea to harm them because Ilmatari are very popular amongst the common people of Faerûn for their charity work.

There is a Helmite faction within the Gate - the Order of the Gauntlet - that covertly sponsors vigilantes. Their calling card is Helm's symbol, branded onto the flesh of either dead criminals or live ones left anonymously on the doorstep of the Flaming Fist.

And then there's Hoar; God of Vengeance; the Doombringer:

"Hoar charges his clergy to uphold true and fitting justice and to maintain the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law. Fitting recompense will always accrue for one's actions. Violence will meet violence and evil pay back evil, but good will also come to those who do good."

In Western Faerûn Hoar's clergy are not many and they do not build temples, but they wander the realms seeking victims of injustice. They listen to their stories, investigate to establish the veracity of their accounts, and if they're satisfied the person is being honest they will track down the perpetrator and deliver ironic punishments upon them. While they're considered criminals in the eyes of the law, to the common people of Faerûn hail them as champions of the underdog. On the darker side, Hoar and Bhaal are allies, and their followers share similar habits and a tendency to be retributive justice for hire. (Though Hoar is in it for vengeance, and Bhaal for the killings and bloodlust.)

Sharrans also present themselves as avengers in a world full of corrupt governments who don't care about you, and go out of their way to try and steal "jobs" from the Hoarites.

The temple of Bhaal will be sending priests up to the marketplaces and other gathering places - likely mostly in the Outer City, where it's impossible to break the city's laws - to listen to people's grievances and offer their services as killers. Bhaalists are also employable as freelance bounty hunters, and are obligated by their faith to train anybody who asks to fight and use weapons and are technically available as self-defence trainers (with an aim of "your opponent should not get back up"). They also usually select criminals for their sacrificial targets, and in private setting will turn these into public displays for the pleasure of the mob.

---

The Code Legal

There is no such thing as copyright law or libel and slander laws- unless they're offensive to clergy, rulers, nobility or whathaveyou. Authors on Toril are having great fun with the copyright thing, and often get ripped off by their publishers stealing their work. Also child labour is involved with the printing, but that's not the topic on hand.

When the punishment for a crime is arrest then the highborn, wealthy and influential will be placed under house arrest instead of spending their time in a jail cell.

Crimes Against the Lords A category that includes government officials, rulers, nobility, the extremely wealthy and influential, and generally high priests/temple leaders (are you going to blaspheme argue with somebody who speaks directly to a god? On Faerûn the answer is "no".)

Assaulting a Lord: death

Impersonating a Lord: death

Assaulting or impersonating an official or noble: flogging, imprisonment for up to a tenday, and a fine up to a max of 500gp depending on severity

Blackmailing an official: flogging and exile up to 10 years

Bribery or attempted bribery of an official: exile up to 20 years and a fine up to double the bribe amount.

Murder of a Lord, official or noble: death

Using magic to influence a Lord without consent: imprisonment up to a year, and fine or damages up to 1,000gp

While killing a commoner may be split into murder and justified self-defence, no such clause exists for killing a noble, which is always met with the death penalty.

"In many lands, common-born people are bound by law to defer to their betters, the lords and ladies of the nobility. Even if the law does not require deference, it’s usually a good idea." - Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting

For the Gate, the nobility are the patriars.

Merchants and powerful Guildmasters (the trade guild, not the Thieves Guid) may have the money and connections to worm their way into this special treatment.

"The wealthiest merchants are virtually indistinguishable from mighty lords, Even if born from peasant stock, a merchant whose enterprises span-a kingdom might style himself "lord" and get away with it." - Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting

While you might get away with styling yourself a lord, as Gortash does, the patriars nevertheless insist on maintaining boundaries between themselves and the new money. I believe they've also occasionally introduced fun additional little laws like who is not allowed to wear what (colours, fabrics) so as not to be confused with the wealthy merchants and lowborn of the city with their inferior breeding. True nobility is a matter of birthright, after all.

Still money opens a lot of doors, especially in a major trade hub like Baldur's Gate.

Crimes against the City

Arson: death or hard labour up to 1 year, with fines -and/or- damages covering the cost of repairs plus 2,000gp

Brandishing weapons without due cause: imprisonment up to a tenday -and/or- fine up to 10gp

Espionage: death -or- permanent exile

Fencing stolen goods: fine equal to the value of the stolen goods and edict

Forgery of an official document: flogging and exile for 10 summers (years)

Hampering justice: fine up to 200gp and hard labour up to a tenday

Littering: fine up to 2gp and an edict

Poisoning a city well: death

Theft: flogging, followed by imprisonment up to a tenday -or- hard labour up to a year -or- a fine equivalent to the value of the stolen good/s. Maiming, either through flogging or loss of limb. Baldur's Gate decided to edit this one for the extreme.

Treason: death

Vandalism: imprisonment up to a tenday plus fine - and/or - damages covering the cost of repairs plus up to 100gp

Using magic to influence an official without consent: fine -or -damages up to 1,000gp and edict

Crimes against Citizens

Assaulting a citizen: imprisonment up to a tenday, flogging and damages up to 1,000gp depending on severity

Blackmailing or intimidating a citizen: fine or damages up to 500gp and an edict (presumably in the form of a restraining order)

Burglary: imprisonment up to 3 months and damages equal to the value of the stolen goods plus 500gp

Damaging property or livestock: damages covering the cost of repairs or replacement plus up to 500gp

Disturbing the peace: fine up to 25gp and edict

Murdering a citizen without justification: death - or - hard labour up to 10 years, and damages up to 1,000gp paid to the victim's kin

Murdering a citizen with justification: exile up to 5 years -or- hard labour up to 3 years -or- damages up to 1,000gp paid to the victim's kin

Robbery: hard labour up to 1 month and damages equal to the value of the stolen goods plus 500gp

Slavery: flogging and hard labour up to 10 years

Using magic to influence a citizen without consent: fine -or- damages up to 1,000gp and an edict

Crimes Against the Gods

Assaulting a priest or lay worshipper: imprisonment up to a tenday and damages up to 500gp

Disorderly conduct within a temple: fine up to 5gp and edict

Public blasphemy against a god or church: edict

Theft of temple goods or offerings: imprisonment up to a tenday and damages up to double the cost of the stolen items

Tomb-robbing: imprisonment up to a tenday and damages covering the cost of repairs plus 500gp

"In a polytheistic setting such as this one, it’s important to stand back from any real-life religious views of “absolute good"". - Elminster's Forgotten Realms

"Baldur's Gate has widely adopted a "do no harm" policy when it comes to faiths and organizations operating in the city. Any group is welcome to operate openly so long as the city's important citizens aren't harmed [and as long as they don't disrupt trade]." - Descent into Avernus

"Important citizens" is an interesting distinction. Usually the rule is "so long as citizens - in general - aren't harmed".

A familiar refrain on this blog, which I have already talked about at length, but from a Torilian perspective: just because the god is evil and howling for the blood of the innocent doesn't make their priests criminals for providing it unless they get caught in the act or breach their "understanding" with the government. Evil or Good (or neither), the gods are holy, and to offend any is blasphemy. There are no gods whose worship is illegal in Baldur's Gate, so long as their clergy aren't stupid about it. (Sharrans usually prefer to go underground anyway, because they'd rather preach sedition and do crime than play nice, which will get them outlawed.)

Crimes against the clergy make people nervous, as it is attacking a god, in a way. Still, most crimes against priests fall under either crimes against citizens or crimes against the lords. Generally, high ranking priests are closer to the latter, and lower ranking to the former, though it does depend on the strength and influence of the temple and larger church in the city/region:

"The powerful temples of Faerûn's deities parallel the king's authority. The lowest-ranking acolytes and mendicants are rarely reckoned beneath the station of a well-off merchant, and any cleric or priest in charge of a temple holds power comparable to that of a baronet or lord. The high priests of a faith favoured in a particular land are equal to the highest nobility." - Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting

That said, the clergy are wise not to push their luck too far, as people will risk the wrath of a god if they feel the need to defend themselves, and the law will turn on the temple for disturbing the peace and disrupting trade.

The Gate has four active temples whose clergy will rank highest amongst the various priests within the city: Tymora, goddess of luck; Umberlee, goddess of the sea; Gond, god of artificers; and - of course - Bhaal, god of murder. The leading priests of each of these - the High; the Wavelord/Wavemistress; the Artificer or High Artificer; and the High Primate/Primistress or Primate/Primistress - will generally be afforded the kind of treatment and leniency by the law that nobility may expect (though this will not extend to the lower ranks of the faith), and of these, Gond's church wields the most power.

As the most recent addition to the four, still in recovery due to their deity being out of commission for a century, the Bhaalists likely wield the least political power, however "[the faiths of the Dead Three] still command respect and fear throughout Baldur's Gate." Also there's a rumour that some important political figure or other is a Bhaalspawn, and it might be the High Primate, but these have always been proven to be smear campaigns.

Beneath these are the other well established faiths, who have shrines (though no temple heads): Ilmater, Lathander, Oghma and Helm.

And then a smattering of every other god on Toril, presumably represented by anything from a handful of priests to one. Also the Banites, who have been doing a fantastic job of climbing the ranks. Couldn't be anything to do with the systemic corruption and tolerance of evil, nah.

Still, clergy will not necessarily bother to take offenders to task and often take offenses against their deity into their own hands. Churches and secular powers tend to have some friction between them, as the government feels that its rules should hold sway while priests consider themselves (and the government) to be beholden to the wills of a higher power that takes precedence over those mere mortals in the High Hall.

Punishments vary according to faith and offense, and may range from placing a quest (gaes) upon the offender, enslaving them to the church, to simply murdering them and discretely disposing of the body. That last one may involve ritual sacrifice unto the deity of the temple, if appropriate. When the offender escapes the temple, the priests may call for the aid of their rural siblings in faith to hunt them down - wandering paladins, the Deathstalkers, etc. Many clergy have some amount of priests that don't stay still.

Churches have their own law enforcement systems. Temple guards are commonly seen, and in larger temples will answer to a paladin. Temples are often home to animals - selected from the deity's holy animals - who serve as security and defence. Certain deities will also have undead bound to the temple's service.

When one of their own ranks is caught breaking a law (say, murder) the priests usually prefer to deal with it themselves. The most common result of getting caught rocking the boat is either for the church to excommunicate the priest, or else for that priest to suddenly, silently be removed from their post and reassigned by the church somewhere else outside of the jurisdiction of the realm with the promise to secular authorities that they will be disciplined, which is accepted. The latter happens "more often than the general public would be pleased to know".

Evil-aligned religions are also held to another set of rules, whose terms are negotiated between the rulers and the church, but generally go thusly:

1) The church owes fealty and service to the government when demanded (assassins, spymasters, mercenaries, whatever) 2) Activities like human sacrifice are to be kept to agreed upon limits: no more than necessary, and the targets must not be "innocents, citizens, or government representatives." - random vagrants and criminals are fine. 3) Clergy must not attempt to overthrow the ruling class, 4) Nor cause too much distress in the general public (people are resigned to the existence of evil and accept and worship the evil deities, but they should not be pushed to the point where daily life is disrupted.) 5) Shrines and temples must be kept out of public view. 6) Keep your identity as a priest and your identity as a citizen separate: the public must not be able to identify you - the Gate has slightly looser restrictions on this, it seems 7) No forced conversions.

#I am screaming internally louder and louder with each piece of information #Also: “There's rumours a political figure - probably the leader of the Bhaalists - is a Bhaalspawn.”#“Nah that's ridiculous. Slander.”#long post #lore stuff

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jojissalsa · 2 months

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here are some wips i'm desperately trying to finish! (if you're curious ;P)

✞ Vendetta Leon:

‪‪❤︎‬ Pretty When I Cry:

☆ summary: you find out leon cheated on you with ada, and with that comes denying him of any kinds of affection. until he takes matters into his own hands, leon knows how to fix his pretty girl ;)

You couldn't believe it when you found out, you knew Leon could get distant. But finding that stupid fucking teddy bear keychain that woman gave him was enough to start a fight between you two, let alone the date offer tucked inside. How sweet. You thought that was it, when it initially happened. A quick spat when you found it a couple days after he came home from that horrid mission, and then some makeup sex. God, you wished that was all it was. All it amounted to. That was until you saw the keychain again, for some odd reason. Even more odd when curiosity got the better of you, and you unzipped it again. Empty.

‪‪❤︎‬ And if you were my little girl:

☆ summary: you've never been close to your dad on a surface level way, or even in a deep way. but after he finds out some of your illicit activities, you guys share your deep, twisted ways <3

Leon’s been single for a while, and ugly girls like you have been ugly for a while. And he looks at you like an ugly girl. Tells you not to get tattoos, shit like that. Like it's still the 50s. Probably because that's the only time he could get pussy. That's why he treats you like shit, and why you and him are addicted to sex. It's all you do ever since you turned 18. And you clean up nice enough. But deep down you're still an ugly girl. What's that saying? Lipstick on a pig. That's really who you are.

❤︎ Anything you Like:

☆ summary: you're excited to meet your new stepdad, and he seems like a great guy. unlike you, who definitely has some issues. good thing leon has a fix for that ;)

Your mom finally got a new man. You're pretty happy about it, really because she is. You're not excited in the slightest to actually meet the guy, just because your mom is happy doesn't mean the guy isn't as bad as your dad. She didn't really learn her lesson after him, sure, she was smart enough to get a divorce, condemn him for all the shit he put you two through. but the damage was already done, honestly. At least the daddy issues make you cute? They don't. They make you so fucking depraved, and in a way it kinda concerns you. The porn you look at, the guys you fuck, you know it's probably some deep seated issues, but it doesn't make any of it less hot.

✿ Death Island Leon:

❤︎ Give you the world:

☆ summary: leon works way too hard, and of course the years of trauma still cause those pesky nightmares. thank god you're there for him, and you don't mind it at all.

“You don’t need to tell me, you know I just wanna help.” You sigh, your hand making lazy circles on his toned stomach. “You go through so much, too much if I’m being honest.” Leon chuckles, a pink hue starting to dust his cheeks. “Hey! I’m being serious. If it were up to me, I’d give you the whole world. You really deserve it, Leon..” You prop yourself up on your elbows, a puppy love look in your eyes that you know looks only a tad obsessive. Leon doesn’t answer for a moment, just letting his wide smile speak his mind as his hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. You sigh and nuzzle your cheek against his palm, your hand slowly making its way to the waistband of his sweats. “Can I? Wanna take your mind off it.” You murmur against his palm, that sweet look in your eyes making him blush even harder.

❤︎ Lipstick Stains:

☆ summary: it was small at first, but it's always the small things with leon. they always drive him crazy, eating away at the sane part of his brain and just making him wanna be around you all the time. maybe it's a side effect of marriage?

He was fine seeing it at first, seeing the smudges of your lipstick on the glasses that he’d clean in the sink or throwing away napkins colored the same rouge in certain spots. He’d just ignore the chill that’d run down his spine when the thought of that same rouge being trailed across his neck would pass. It's just lipstick, is he a teenager?

❆ Re4 Remake Leon:

❤︎ A Girl can Dream (Part 1)

☆ summary: you work closely with ada wong, and leon knows a thing or two about mercenaries. they love to cause trouble.

Leon knew you looked familiar, from the moment he saw you in line at boarding to the second you sat next to him. He also knew you could both feel something. Physical attraction? Nah, he would never get close to another woman like Ada, too many secrets. You on the other hand? You were dying at the chance to run into his arms like a giggling teenage girl, looking at the window as you absentmindedly twirl your hair on your finger. You really don’t wanna pay him much more attention, partly because he’s insanely distracting, mainly because you know he would reject you in a heartbeat. No way a guy like him is single, right? A girl can dream.

𖦹 Re2 Remake Leon:

❤︎ All Mine:

☆ summary: leon's affection has always been nice. but he also has the power to deprive you of it entirely. and when that happens, you can't help but go insane.

You don’t even know what really drives this affinity you have for him, sure, he is definitely a looker. No debate about that. You’d run in front of incoming traffic just to be near him. But why? He’s nice, funny, drives a nice car, you both have a lot in common. But there really is something about Leon Kennedy, that puppy faced freak, that really fucks with your brain chemistry. The way he touches you, it’s confident yet tender. Well, it was at first. It had that tinge of gentleness, like you were a gorgeous porcelain doll that deserved so much care, but he could be rough with you in the most enticing way possible. He would choke you ever so slightly just so he could kiss you deeper, feel your tongue against his, like he needed to remind you of who makes you shudder like that. It was addicting, having that kind of affection that made your brain all syrupy and nonfunctioning.

☁︎ Infinite Darkness Leon:

❤︎ Dangerous Game (Part 2):

☆ summary: now that you're settled in, it's your turn to babysit leon. and you're making it much more difficult to focus when you talk like that.

Suddenly you're getting an incoming call from Leon, and you're kicking yourself when you feel your face heat up. “Hey there, Agent Kennedy. Need anything from me?” There you go again, still not using his name. Such a tease. He tries not to roll his eyes when he notices your smug smirk already.

❤︎ A Girl can Dream (Part 2):

☆ summary: ada has taught you so well, you know when to give up and help leon out when he needs it. that doesn't mean you shouldn't get a reward for it though, right?

You repress a yelp as he pushes you against the desk, his face barely illuminated from the glow of the chandelier in the hallway. "Enough with the teasing," You nearly shiver at how stern he sounds, but you've always been good at poker faces. "I've got a job to do, and it'd be wonderful if you'd shut your mouth and help me out here." Leon's voice is hot against your neck, his large hands gripping your hips, keeping you against him. "And what do I get out of that? You gotta make it worth my time, Kennedy,"

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ please be patient with me as i finish these! life has been a rollercoaster lately, but making fanfics and writing about leon will always be a passion of mine, so it's not going anywhere anytime soon!

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