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azukiel · 6 months

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Nightfall Heir Chapter 1

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.

You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

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As you lay in Astarion’s arms, you relished in the bliss that coddled your heart.

Alas, your mind wandered. It had not always been like this.

Blissful.

Your memories vividly recalled the time you had first laid with him, the time where the soft glow of fireflies had danced in the air, casting shadows that whispered secrets into the grass beneath you. The subsequent times thereafter had also been a symphony of sensations - feverish rustling of bedsheets, and the intoxicating scents of his cologne mingled with the musky aromas of passion. Back then, Astarion had always assured you that your very essence would be enveloped in a euphoric blend of pleasure and ecstasy. However, beneath the surface of those passionate encounters lay a web of deception. Your trysts had been nothing more than a meticulously crafted facade, a mask to conceal the collective traumas that haunted you both. Astarion had sought protection and trust from you, while you had yearned for a semblance of true companionship and belonging from him.

Still, the scars you both carried were etched into your souls, impossible to conceal. They were etched into the very fabric of your beings, leaving invisible wounds that refused to heal.

You flinched at the painful recollections as you looked up again at his peaceful, sleeping face. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took in a deep breath. His scents of bergamot, rosemary and aged brandy eloped you with a warmth like a midsummer’s kiss. His enchanting perfume restored a sense of peace. Yet, the darkness that still lingered in the back of your mind clawed its way into your consciousness once more.

Shuddering, you pressed yourself harder against his body to shield yourself, and though, in his sleep, he tightened his arms around you, you felt your walls again crumble. As the salt of your tears stung at the corners of your eyes, your unscrupulous mind continued to ravish your heart…

You were flung back to your childhood, vividly recalling the relentless barrage of blows, the sound of bones cracking, the scathing verbal assaults, and the relentless condemnations. The overpowering stench of sweat and blood used to fill your nostrils as you were forced to confront opponents far stronger than yourself, all for the perverse amusement of the masses... enduring unspeakable torment that had assaulted your body and mind alike. Such was the brutal reality of the Drow society that had shaped your upbringing. And yet, your tortures were not so different to that of which your lover had suffered at the hands of his old tormentor, Cazador.

The torment you had both endured had left deep scars, which had resulted in your eventual separation. The memory of it lingered, triggering a silent sob from you. In the past, you and Astarion had made the mutual decision to remain ‘just companions,’ driven by guilt over having used each other as shields for your sufferings. It had seemed like the ideal solution, a way to aid in healing. But unbeknownst to either of you, it had only exacerbated the anguish, a truth you both refused to acknowledge, even to yourselves.

At least, not until the events in Cazador's gloomy prison had unfolded.

Your mind, shrouded in darkness, conjured up a vivid and haunting replay of the events...

Your heart had been torn asunder as you had watched Astarion confront his old, wicked master. The anguish inflicted upon Astarion had been unbearable, a raw wound visible in your eyes. Alas, the hunger for power had consumed him, a voracious appetite for ascension that had wrapped around him like a suffocating web. In a mere breath, the Astarion you had known and loved had vanished. The vibrant essence of the witty, sassy, and flamboyant Elven vampire you cherished had been replaced by a feral beast. The sight of his former slaver, now succumbed, bloodied and kneeling, blurred the line between captor and captive.

You recall having exerted every ounce of your strength, having plead with Astarion to resist the seductive pull of power, to spare the lives of the countless thralls and spawn. The weight of this decision had threatened to consume his true self, which would have rendered him unrecognizable. Unimaginable sorrow had consumed you as you had contemplated the magnitude of such a loss.

The anguished cries that had escaped him as he struck down Cazador had reverberated through your being, threatening to shatter your very core. Even though Astarion had eventually yielded to your pleas, a deep resentment had grown within him towards you.

Your mind then shifted to when you and your companions had returned to the Elvensong Tavern nigh your vampiric companion. Your body had trembled uncontrollably, with tears streaming down your face, your sobs wracking your entire being. The weight of your despair had felt like an unbearable burden, threatening to consume you entirely. You remember the painful pounding of your heart in your chest, the rhythm deafening in your ears, and your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to regain control. Halsin’s sudden powerful embrace had provided a sense of stability, and his firm hold had offered a sense of security that you had desperately needed in that moment. He was, in fact, the only companion strong enough to hold your arms to prevent you from burning down the place in your despair. You recalled the surrounding room blurring as your vision had become clouded by tears; the world reduced to a haze of pain and anguish.

The others, your companions, had surrounded you, and eventually their presence had become a comfort amidst the chaos. Their words of reassurance and support had washed over you, their soothing voices attempting to ease the torment that had consumed your mind. Though their words had been barely audible through the fog of your despair, their presence alone provided a sense of unity and shared strength.

Sighing inwardly as you nestled yourself in the crook of Astarion’s shoulder, you remembered that back in that tavern on that night, time had seemed to lose all meaning to you. You had continued to tightly cling to Halsin as he cradled you, and your body had gradually succumbed to exhaustion.

After what had felt like an endless stretch of time, Astarion had finally returned. You recall that the room had been dimly lit by then, and the dancing candle light had cast long shadows on the worn wooden floor. You had heard the faint echoes of his fervent apologies, his voice trembling with remorse. The weight of his rage, which had been directed solely at you, had torn through your heart like a sharp knife. Truly, you hadn’t blamed him. It had been a battle within himself, a struggle to maintain control. Nevertheless, it had still shattered your already delicate heart and mind.

And then you recollected, amidst the heaviness of the situation, he having expressed his gratitude. The words had hung in the air as he had thanked you for rescuing him from the brink of losing his very self. You had saved him from becoming a reflection of the one he despised most in the world. Cazador Szarr.

Late that same night, under the glowing moonlight, he had guided you through the calm silence of the local cemetery. After having reached a secluded plot, he had unveiled a tombstone that had been crafted for him upon his ‘death’ as a mortal elf. The tombstone had stood there, adorned with weathered vines, a testament to the passaging of two long centuries. The air surrounding you both had carried a hint of mustiness and an earthy scent, mingling with the faint aroma of decaying leaves. A chilling breeze had whispered through the graveyard, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Astarion’s voice had broken the silence then, and he described how this tombstone represented not only the end of his previous life in Cazador’s clutches, but also the death of the creature he could have become had he ascended. In that moment, he had realised he was no longer a mere spawn, but finally, truly free.

And as he often reminded you, even now, it had all been because of your unwavering perseverance, infinite patience, and resolute devotion. Your enduring devotion to him. For that, he had fallen profoundly for you and had not hesitated to confess his adoration right in front of his grave. He had not hesitated to guide you down onto the mound of earth, where your bodies soon intertwined with an intense fervour, either.

You remembered the fierce emotions that had flooded your body. Every touch and every caress from Astarion had sent shivers down your spine, electrifying your skin and loins with an unbearable ecstasy. The air around you had seemed to crackle with an intoxicating energy, as if the gods themselves had acknowledged the depth of your connection.

Your breath had hitched with each movement, the anticipation coursing through your veins. The taste of passion had lingered on your lips as a mix of desire and a hint of rebellion. The gritty texture of the earth beneath you had only heightened the rawness of the moment, grounding you in the physicality of your love.

You bit your bottom lip with the memories which now overwhelmed your senses. You felt it all again. With each feverish thrust, the passion had intensified. The heat between your bodies had grown to burning new heights and had wrapped you both in a cocoon of shared desire. Astarion’s touch had ignited a fire within you as his hands had explored every inch of your body with a frenzied hunger. The world around you then had faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of unbridled passion.

In that moment, the boundaries of time and place had ceased to exist. Moans and gasps had mingled in the air, a symphony of pleasure and longing as you had moved together with an unspoken understanding.

It had been just you and him in that graveyard, your souls entwined as one. The world could have crumbled around you once again, yet you would have remained oblivious, lost in the sheer intensity of your love.

You trembled at the memory of the last echoes of ecstasy fading away, and the intense heat between your thighs after he had filled you. You had found solace in the knowledge that your devotion had been reciprocated with equal fervor.

As your mind floated back to your present time, you shivered again at the sudden delicious tingle at your junction, a soft moan escaping your lips. You froze, glancing up at your sleeping lover, hoping you had not been loud enough to stir him, but he was as still as the tombstone that adorned his grave. Which brought your salacious thoughts back to that night. That night had cemented your relationship once and for all. He was now yours and you were now his and the both of you had been inseparable since that night two years ago.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion daddy #Astarion as a daddy #Astarion and Tav have a child #Nightfall heir #bg3 #dadstarion #astarion x halsin x tav #astarion x dark urge #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

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Hi!! I love your headcanons, especially the last one you posted of a Monk!Tav! If it's okay, would you be willing to write headcanons about a Tav with chronic pain? My idea was of a Tav who uses forearm crutches due to chronic pain, but still learns to fight and/or cast spells and such despite this. I use crutches myself but I still practice capoeira (it's actually not as difficult as I though it'd be, surprisingly!), so I always wondered how Astarion would feel about a character like that.

Also I'd really like to read about Astarion navigating physical intimacy with someone who can't do certain things (stay too long in one position, move in certain ways when back/legs/hips hurt, etc) because of the chronic pain, if you'd like to add that in.

I love this prompt! Because it requires me to do research.

Let me know if I wrote something wrong.

Astarion x Tav With Chronic Pain

Masterlist

Headcanons

Many years ago, you were severely hurt.

It was the dark magic, the necrotic damage.

So painful and disgusting, you were blessed to be unconscious.

You recovered. Thanks to the healing potions.

Wounds healed. Bones mended.

But the pain remained.

It follows you like a shadow, like a ghost, like an intrusive thought.

Sometimes, you forget about it.

But it reminds of itself when you least expect it.

You've tried to heal it, but as with any sickness bestowed by dark magic, it will never fully go.

Sometimes, it is so bad you have to use crutches because you almost can't move.

The tadpole, though, suppresses it, and you forget that you ever had this chronic pain.

It returns the moment you are free.

The pain is so unbearable you want to cut your arms off.

You barely manage to get into the inn, and you stay there in the fetal position.

Unable to move a finger.

Soon after sunset, you hear familiar steps and the familiar weight on the bed.

"What is it, my sweet?" he playfully asks, only to see you are in pain.

Maybe he has witnessed this condition before or it is just too familiar, but Astarion immediately recognized it.

He brings you water to drink and then a medicinal ointment he'd probably stolen.

"Sit up," he orders and starts massaging your hands, rubbing the ointment into the skin.

It prickles, but the feeling is nice.

Then he does the same with your legs and back.

You felt like a doll in his hands, but you didn't mind.

Then, he brought you food and fed you with a spoon.

You feel relaxed and sleepy. The pain is still there, but it's not that bad.

Astarion hesitates to lie beside you, but you manage to find the way you both feel comfortable.

You keep being adventurers, but it has its complications.

Sometimes you just can't move. Sometimes, you need crutches (and for these periods you always stay somewhere safe). Astarion is always ready to carry you in his hands, but sometimes you prefer not to be touched.

Which he understands perfectly. He has his times when he doesn't want to be touched.

From time to time, you are in such pain you cry, and Astarion stays with you until it gets better.

You know a thousand ways to help him with his nightmares and traumas.

He knows a thousand ways to ease your pain.

You are each other's burdens, but together it's much easier to go through the night.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary

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thebramblewood · 6 months

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In which Helena finally admits the truth and an unexpected guest arrives.

Previous / Next

Helena: Bless you, free next-day shipping.

[Snippets from Tangled Vines as Helena spends all day reading]

Lilith's chambermaid is quoted: "The lady spoke of an icy cold deep in her bones. I suggested the sunlight might warm her, but when I moved to throw open the blinds, she cowered beneath her quilt and screamed at me to leave them alone."

San Myshuno was the pinnacle of glitz, glamor, and elegant debauchery. All who attended a party wanted to be seen. Curiously, though, two of the names most often uncovered in tabloid archives, Cal and Lily, seemed to fully avoid the increasingly ubiquitous flash of the camera.

After establishing rights to the family fortune, the new vatores retreated into the shadows of Forgotten Hollow, a sleepy, staid village founded in the early 1800s by a recluse named Vladislaus Straud - an odd choice, to say the least.

It is nearly impossible to research Forgotten Hollow today. Its occupants have grown increasingly insular and suspicious of outsiders, who are advised not to wander at night. Many visitors, including this reporter, have experienced a strange haze of forgetfulness cast over any memories of their visit.

Helena: Oh, god... This is really happening.

[distant knocking]

[muffled voice] Helena?

[sound of key turning in lock]

[growing louder] Helena, are you here?

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #sims 4 edit #simblr #story: hzid #helena zhao #leave it to me to make this fake book a reality #don't worry i'll give you a closer look at the covers soon #i realize the 'icy cold' contradicts caleb's '1000 fires' but i see that as being the early flu-like phase before shit gets really real #anyway guess who?? i mean there are only so many people who'd have keys lol

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naffeclipse · 9 months

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Song Fish Amid the Stars

Chapter 6: Thalassophile

FNAF Mermaid!Sun & Mermaid!Moon x Reader (SFW)

You see darkness. Your eyes are wide open, stinging in the salty deep and covered by the shadow cast by Circus’s palm. A tight squeeze threatens to collapse your rib cage. Your lungs burn as oxygen fades. She lifts her fists, breaking out of the cold brine to allow the water to drain from around you. You’ve lost caught of how many times she’s brought you up for air. There is no direction in the world. There is only the dark ocean and the shadowy air you’re ripped back and forth between.

Word Count: 13,700 Warnings: Phobias, violence, injury, blood, gore, anxiety, death, bruises, broken bones, and fear.

A/N: You're in a bit of a dark place and Circus has you right where she wants you. Sun and Moon are desperately searching for you. You have no idea what happened to your friend, and Circus is exploiting the very special connection she's crafted with you.

I'll see you at the end!

#sun x reader #moon x reader #mermaid!sun #mermaid!moon #song fish amid the stars #ao3 link #i have been working on this all day please just take it now #i'm gonna scream #i am so excited but also just hhrhhrhrhghghrhrhrh about it #so yeah fish #also auto-correct keeps wanting me to change Thalassophile Thalasspohyte??

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audodd2 · 2 months

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Grian sighed, half turned. The moon, pale light dancing through the window, pressed light against the gentle slope of his nose, the arch of his cheek. It drifted through his eyes like stolen starlight. If he'd stopped breathing Scar might have believed him to be a masterpiece, every stroke carefully brushed across a dearly loved canvas. Scar stopped breathing instead, too entranced to remember a thing so mundane as oxygen.

“You should probably go. It's dark out.”

The space between his ribs rushed in, crowded his lungs, squeezed his heart. He sucked in a greedy breath. It felt empty.

“Right. Yes.” He gathered himself, scanned the room for discarded belongings, remembered the clothes in the bathroom, and rushed toward it.

“Scar,” Grian scolded, voice muffled through the wall.

“No, no! Don't worry.” He rushed back out, dirty clothes in hand to show Grian. He raised them above his head like evidence. “Just gathering my belongings.”

Grian rolled his eyes, smile soft, concerned. “You'll be alright getting back?”

“When have I ever lost in the face of danger?” Scar grinned broadly and hoped it swallowed the shadowed gaps between his bones. He sauntered toward the door, fingers pressed against his brow in a salute. “I'll see you around, G!”

He slipped outside, grin cast to the night. He took a single step away from the door, fully intending to walk right down the ladder and toward his train, no hesitation, when an arrow landed resolutely a single inch from his face.

#scarian #goodtimeswithscar #grian #fanfic #hermitblr #trafficblr #scarian fanfic #life smp #they are my worst enemies ever I hate them #i want to microwave them #homosexuals are crazy

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kaihuntrr · 1 month

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part fifteen: entertainment.

Martyn realizes some things about himself.

Clear skies, not a speck of clouds in sight. The winds blew strong overhead, Martyn could hear the soft rustling of the sails as the force propelled him and the Canaries onward. It was another slow day, so there was no point in using the engine if there were no beasts to hunt.

Martyn stood on the front of the ship, leaning against the wooden frame as the sounds of distant conversations filled his ears. Strangely, he couldn’t seem to tune in to them like he usually would. Maybe he was just tired. What was he even doing for the past few days? Martyn couldn’t recall a thing.

Martyn looked behind him to see the Canaries laughing and smiling amongst themselves. Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs were the closest, while he spotted Lizzie and Joel talking by the steering wheel, leaving Grian and Mumbo likely in the cabins downstairs. He tried to look beyond the crew only for a distant mist to obscure whatever they sailed away from. He hummed, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head.

It didn’t matter.

He was here with his friends, his crew, and it was the same routine as always, idly searching for a new monster to hunt, the adrenaline rush of striking it down, then tending to any injuries sustained from the fight.

Martyn walked up to Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs. Bdubs sat on one of the wooden crates while Cleo leaned against the railing and Scar stood in front of the two. They seemed to be engaged in some light conversation, so why not join? Martyn put on a small smile. “Hey guys!” he tilted his head, lifting his hand in a wave. “What are we all talking about?”

Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs didn’t seem to respond.

Martyn narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Guys?” he glanced at all three of them. They were talking, but Martyn couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying. It was odd. He was right in front of them, but none of them gave him a glance. “Can you even hear me?”

“Can you hear me?”

An unknown voice spoke, shaking Martyn to his core. It was a raspy, bone-chilling call, yet it sounded impossibly loud and piercing. Martyn whipped his head around, looking for the speaker. No one was there. He looked back and the trio were… gone. Martyn looked at the steering wheel to find Joel and Lizzie gone, too.

What was happening?

“Wh-Who’s there?” Martyn looked around the ship rapidly, pulling out a gun from its holster and cocked it should the speaker try to hurt him. He had heard the voice, but the speaker was still not in sight. Martyn raised his voice, “I’m not afraid of a fight! Come out!”

“Oh but you are,” the voice chuckled in reply. The hairs on Martyn’s neck rose as the voice grew louder somehow. “You are afraid of me.” The ship suddenly started rocking as the water grew violent. Martyn had to plant his feet to stand his ground. He swayed along with the ship, but he stayed perfectly balanced as he took in deep breaths.

Martyn raised his gun and pointed it around. “I’m not afraid of you, whatever you are,” he growled. He narrowed his eyes and chuckled. “You can’t even face me.” Martyn shouldn’t be afraid of anything he couldn’t see– anything too scared to look him in the eye. The voice was weird, but it was nothing compared to all the beasts he’s taken on. What’s the worst it could possibly be? Martyn was safe on the ship, even if his friends weren’t there.

A chill ran up his spine. Where did the others go?

Martyn’s attention quickly snapped to the rumbling waters below as waves slapped the side of the ship, rattling the deck underneath his feet. Martyn ran to the side of the ship to see what the sound was as something huge bursted out of the dark seas below. The beast’s massive form loomed over the ship, casting a shadow across it that covered Martyn in complete darkness.

The first thing that stood out to Martyn were the monster’s eyes.

Abyssal black sclera. Raging blue and fiery orange irises. Ice-white pupils.

Martyn stumbled back and fell to the deck, cowering at the sight before him. It was the sea prince he met. It was staring down at him, grinning with its large, imposing teeth.

The sea prince’s teal hair glistened in the sunlight, the corals that grew out of its head shimmered. The glowing marks on its skin pulsed a faint light as its mighty heart pumped out its golden blood. By all means, the creature was… no, Martyn couldn’t think about it. It was wrong to think of a monster as anything akin to beautiful.

The monster leaned against the ship, one of its hands laid on top of the deck. Martyn winced at the sound of wood and metal cracking. It tilted its head and smiled. “Is this better?” Martyn couldn’t respond. He could only stare up at the sea prince’s face as it looked at him expectantly. When he didn’t give it an answer, it rolled its eyes and chuckled, its mouth curling into a smirk as it leaned over him, the smallest movements of its body rattling the vessel. “Pathetic. Where is your confidence?”

Martyn couldn’t move. He couldn’t open his mouth. The only thing he could do was stare at it in fear and awe. It was massive. It was beautiful! The sea prince’s gaze was intense and fiery and on him, and Martyn could see the hunger in its eyes. He could hear the sea grow restless as the winds howled for a storm, yet the mythical creature kept the ship still by simply resting one of its hands on top.

The sea prince kept staring at Martyn, its sharp teeth shining despite the storm clouds rolling past. “I thought you wanted a fight,” its large fingers drummed against the wooden floors, or what remained of them. Each tap caused the boat to rumble, bit by bit. “It seems my mere presence is enough to scare you to stillness, little hunter.”

Martyn couldn’t be scared. He shouldn’t be scared.

This is what he wanted.

Taking a sea prince down would be legendary.

“I- I’m not afraid of you!” Martyn’s words fell out of his mouth before he could make sense of it, finding himself already halfway to standing. The sea prince’s eyes widened, but its smile only grew more sinister. It didn’t answer, as if prompting Martyn to continue now that he’s finally found his voice. Still, Martyn trembled as its mighty gaze was too focused on him, even as he pushed himself to his feet. “With- with you dead, the sea would finally be free from one of its biggest threats. Give up your life now, and we can start living in the new world!”

Silence.

The monstrous creature stared at Martyn, raising an eyebrow. It stared and stared before it threw its head back and erupted into a laugh, shaking the entire ship as waves thrashed around them. Martyn was knocked back to the deck, looking up as the laughter began to fade.

The prince shook its head, a grin on its face. “Oh, and you’re sure you can kill me, the most powerful ruler of the ocean? I could crush you here and now,” its grip on the ship tightened as more sounds of wood cracking and breaking -coming from all around Martyn- resounded in his ears. “Or I could eat you. You’d be like sweet candy to me, dear hunter.” It licked its lips, leaning closer to the ship. Martyn could feel its breath wash over him. The sensation brought chills down Martyn’s spine as he swallowed. Something about those words got him on edge.

The sea prince sighed. “I’ve been entertained enough,” it shrugged, a seemingly nonchalant look on its face as it glanced outward and back to Martyn. “Your friends were a good snack. That sweet little tavernkeep of yours was the most delicious, though.” It grinned, blood beginning to pour out of the monster’s jaws and pooled around Martyn. Martyn could hear the distant screams of his crew, his friends, and Scott.

Oh gods, Scott.

Martyn’s eyes widened as he tried to move away from the glistening red blood as the sea prince’s smile widened in manic joy.

No, no no no– this can’t be happening. This isn’t– this can’t be real.

“I think our time here is over, little hunter.”

The monstrous, beautiful creature moved its large face directly in front of Martyn. He could see his reflection in its eyes; covered in blood, weary, and panicked. The sea prince’s eyes flashed with lightning as thunder roared above. Its sickening grin came back.

“Thank you for the entertainment.”

The sea prince’s jaws opened. Martyn could see the strings of saliva and the abyssal darkness that laid in the back of its throat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even scream.

All he could do was watch as darkness snapped shut around him in an instant.

—————

Martyn bolted upright immediately after his eyes opened. His heartbeat was pounding in his chest, his breaths were quick and ragged. He blinked several times, shaking his head as he gathered his thoughts. One of Martyn’s hands gripped his hair as he leaned back against the bed and sighed.

Bed?

Martyn looked around the room. He was on a simple white bed with a wooden frame, a bedside table was set right next to it with a dimly lit lantern and a notebook on top. A chest lay on the foot of the bed and a green carpet was spread out in front. A wooden door with metal decal was on the left side of the room, while the right had a window, glittering in the blue moonlight. There was a cabinet along with a small table and two chairs near the end of the room. All the lanterns that hung from the ceiling were off.

Right, this was his room in the tavern. He remembered now.

Some of the Canaries were here in the tavern with Martyn, sleeping away in their own rooms, while others stayed on the ship. They would meet up in the morning and hopefully prepare to leave this accursed island. Martyn rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes, unable to sleep. Luckily he hadn’t screamed, he didn’t want to wake the others.

That dream felt… real and unreal at the same time. Martyn could still hear the sea prince’s taunts in his ears while every time his eyes closed, he could see those inhuman eyes staring right back at him. He couldn’t escape those eyes; they were hauntingly beautiful. He’d never seen anything like them before.

Martyn twisted the small knob on the lantern on the bedside table to adjust its brightness. The flame grew and it illuminated the room a little more. Martyn opened his sketchbook and took a pencil from the desk. He spent some time drawing out those eyes on a clean page. If he drew it, would that get his mind to stop thinking about how pretty it was?

Maybe it wasn’t right to use ‘it’ for such a creature. Wait-, why was Martyn even thinking that way? The sea prince was a monster; no matter how much Martyn thought about its beauty, it was still a horrible monster. He should be locked up for feeling the way he did!

“Those eyes…,” Martyn looked at the sketch, talking to himself. “Why do I remember those eyes so well?”

The moonlight in the room disappeared for a brief moment before it filtered inside again. There must be clouds passing by. Martyn hummed. If he couldn’t sleep, a walk outside could do him good. Maybe it was a good sign that the skies were relatively clear compared to the gloomy afternoon. A walk wouldn’t hurt.

Martyn got out of bed, immediately regretting his decision with how comfortable the bed had been, and slipped on his usual attire. He was going to be back, so he left his satchel inside. He had his gun and brought the lantern with him, but the rest stayed in the room. He made his way out of the room and locked the door behind him, taking careful steps down the wooden stairs so he wouldn’t accidentally creak a floorboard and wake the others. He slipped out of the tavern relatively quickly.

The town looked a lot better at night. At least, it didn’t look as strange as it was before. The moonlight lit the town a lot more than the torches and lanterns dotted around had managed to. Buildings glimmered in its pale light as stars twinkled above. It was a welcome sight, and something Martyn didn’t expect to miss as much as he did.

Martyn walked through the town, hearing the wind rustle through the buildings and flora, the soft crackles of torchlight, and the animals that chirped about. It felt more alive. No one was outside though, not a single soul. It must be extremely late.

A thought came to mind as Martyn looked around the empty streets; what if Pearl was asleep, too? She wouldn’t expect a surprise visit, would she? Martyn’s hand unconsciously brushed over his scarred cheek as he thought about it. Maybe a little payback won’t hurt.

Martyn could hear the river ahead, cutting through the town. If he followed it upstream, it would surely bring him to the forest. He raised his lantern and walked close to the river, looking around the town for any clear buildings he could reference when he eventually returned to the tavern.

It was a quiet walk, and Martyn appreciated the silence after everything that has happened. It felt nice. It felt good.

The forest entrance was unguarded and open, a small wooden archway with a lantern hung with loose and broken fences to its sides. It didn’t stop Martyn from entering.

Trees towered over him, leafy canopies covered the moonlight above in thick foliage. Martyn could see a few spots of moonlight hitting the ground, but the rest was shadowy and dark. It would have been hard to navigate if it weren’t for the lantern Martyn had on him. Thank goodness. How was the witch able to see through all this darkness? As far as Martyn remembered, she had walked into the forest with no light whatsoever and the forest was covered in thick fog. There was no point in thinking about it though, if Pearl got lost, it was her problem.

“Aw, come on! Loosen up a bit, will you?”

Speak of the devil. Martyn quickly dashed behind one of the large trees and bushes as he shut the lantern off and quickly held his breath. Would she notice the smell of smoke? Martyn pressed himself against the tree, crouching down so as to not be noticed. Why was she out in the forest so late?

Martyn heard footsteps approaching, one set of steps felt heavier than the other. Two people.

An unknown voice spoke up, their voice monotonous and cold. “You know I like my sleep, Pearl,” they groaned. “It feels wrong to sleep through the night, though. No matter how long it’s been, I just can’t get used to it.”

Everyone sleeps through the night. What was the problem there?

“We’re not supposed to sleep at this time, so I get that,” Pearl chuckled. Martyn took a small glance at the two and saw nothing. No light source, no lanterns or torches. Pearl and the stranger were walking in total darkness. “Still. You’re the one who wanted a better look at the island, so it's not my fault.”

It sounded like the stranger and Pearl knew each other, judging by Pearl’s uncharacteristically friendly tone. Her words stuck out in Martyn’s head. She wasn’t supposed to sleep at night? What, so she slept during the day? That was ridiculous.

“I didn’t expect the isle to be so gloomy. Plus,” the stranger had a bit more emotion in their voice. They held in a chuckle, the slight sound of cloth moving had Martyn think the stranger was nudging Pearl’s shoulder. “You’re not even trying to blend in.”

Pearl sighed. “Unlike you and the others, I like being a threat. Why play these games for humans when we’re so much better than them?”

Why was Pearl talking like–

“It’s better to stalk your prey before taking it down, like–,” the stranger stopped in their tracks. Their voice raised, “Do you smell that?”

A sudden silence washed over as Martyn shut his eyes. This wasn’t good. Pearl spoke up, causing Martyn to raise his shoulders. “Smoke. Who’s there?” Martyn could hear Pearl pull out her sickles.

Smoke. Martyn looked at the lantern. Smoke. It was out; the smell of smoke was so faint. How was Pearl and the stranger able to notice that? Martyn hurriedly put the lantern away as he crouched and moved to another tree. He couldn’t see properly anymore, and neither the stranger nor Pearl had any light source on them. He wouldn’t know where they were.

A rustle of bushes indicated someone was close.

Martyn moved to another tree, far from the rustling but still within earshot of the two.

The stranger sighed. “It’s a lantern,” they twisted the knob, Martyn could hear the squeaking sounds of metal as they turned it rapidly. “Recently put out, too. I believe our little tour is going to have to wait a while.” Martyn heard the lantern's glass shatter to pieces and metal snap, but it didn’t sound like it broke in an instant. It sounded like something was crushing it.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m the one who asked for it,” Pearl raised her voice, feigning a dramatic tone. She sighed, “I’m just glad it isn’t Chromia. As much as I hate those pesky birds, I don’t want him to show himself here. He shouldn’t know that they’re here, either.”

A new name. Chromia. That’s a peculiar name, wasn't it? Judging by Pearl’s soft tone, Martyn assumed there was some kind of close bond there. But this was the same witch who threatened his life, Martyn shouldn’t try to feel sympathy for her now. She knew things he wanted to learn about. He needed those answers.

“Don’t get me started on him, he needs some rest,” the stranger’s voice was soft and quiet. They sighed, and that sense of softness disappeared as they raised their voice. “Let’s just focus on this straggler for now, hm? Let’s see who gets them first. Better hunter versus the home turf advantage.”

“Sounds like fun, but don’t complain when I’m the one who catches them.”

With that, Martyn could hear the two dash away in opposing directions, one set of footsteps heavier than the other. What now? Martyn could turn back, but they could notice him walking away, but the risk of heading deeper into the woods…

Martyn had a gun. He should be fine.

Martyn wasn’t sure where he was going. If Pearl lingered in this area all day, then she must have some place where she stayed. Besides, weren’t witches commonly shown to have their creepy little cabins in the woods somewhere? It should be somewhere in these shadowy woods. He constantly looked for the little hints of moonlight as he moved through the forest, keeping crouched and taking slow steps to hopefully not attract either of the two people.

If he strained his ears enough, he could hear the softer footsteps better. The heavier ones were farther away. It was odd that the only thing Martyn could hear were the footsteps and breeze, like something was–

Martyn heard a distant growl. The ground shook slightly.

Something powerful was here.

Martyn’s eyes widened as a thought hit him. Could the sea prince be here? That had to be it. If all hunting ships got destroyed the moment they left the island, of course the monster would be close.

Was the sea prince in the distance the same one Martyn met? Would he be ready to see those eyes again? That face? That really pretty, really terrifying face?

Martyn pushed ahead. May the gods bless him. If he lived to survive the encounter, there must be something grand in store for him. He had to see the sea prince again. It was as if it was calling to him.

It felt like a long, agonizing crawl, but Martyn finally found himself at the entrance of a cave. Small flickers of moonlight illuminated the mossy rock, vines and flowers hanging over its mouth, blending the cave entrance in with the environment around it. If it weren’t for the moonlight, Martyn would’ve just assumed it was a solid wall of rock. He turned to look behind him. Nothing.

The ground rumbled again, only fueling Martyn’s heart with fear and excitement as he entered the cave. He placed his feet very carefully, following the descending slope as it sank far below ground level.

The cave was... surprisingly lit up. Martyn couldn’t see any lanterns or torches, but he noticed that the cave was lit with an odd golden light. He followed the tunnel as it curved, seeing the cave open up to a much larger space. The path he was following spiraled deeper and deeper, the path curving along the walls of the larger cavern.

Martyn crept up to the edge of the path, where it linked to the larger open space and a sheer drop. He peered over the edge to see a large pool of golden water below him. It shimmered unnaturally, its glow filling the entire bottom of the cave. It was enchanting. Martyn wanted to dive into it. He held back the urge to curse himself for not bringing a waterskin to hold the strange water in. If he could just–

“What do we have here?”

Martyn whirled around and was swiftly hit on the chin, the blow knocking him out as he collapsed against the cold cave floor.

It didn’t matter.

Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs didn’t seem to respond.

“Can you hear me?”

What was happening?

A chill ran up his spine. Where did the others go?

The first thing that stood out to Martyn were the monster’s eyes.

Abyssal black sclera. Raging blue and fiery orange irises. Ice-white pupils.

Martyn stumbled back and fell to the deck, cowering at the sight before him. It was the sea prince he met. It was staring down at him, grinning with its large, imposing teeth.

Martyn couldn’t be scared. He shouldn’t be scared.

This is what he wanted.

Taking a sea prince down would be legendary.

Silence.

Oh gods, Scott.

Martyn’s eyes widened as he tried to move away from the glistening red blood as the sea prince’s smile widened in manic joy.

No, no no no– this can’t be happening. This isn’t– this can’t be real.

“I think our time here is over, little hunter.”

“Thank you for the entertainment.”

The sea prince’s jaws opened. Martyn could see the strings of saliva and the abyssal darkness that laid in the back of its throat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even scream.

All he could do was watch as darkness snapped shut around him in an instant.

—————

Bed?

Right, this was his room in the tavern. He remembered now.

“Those eyes…,” Martyn looked at the sketch, talking to himself. “Why do I remember those eyes so well?”

It was a quiet walk, and Martyn appreciated the silence after everything that has happened. It felt nice. It felt good.

The forest entrance was unguarded and open, a small wooden archway with a lantern hung with loose and broken fences to its sides. It didn’t stop Martyn from entering.

“Aw, come on! Loosen up a bit, will you?”

Martyn heard footsteps approaching, one set of steps felt heavier than the other. Two people.

Everyone sleeps through the night. What was the problem there?

Pearl sighed. “Unlike you and the others, I like being a threat. Why play these games for humans when we’re so much better than them?”

Why was Pearl talking like–

“It’s better to stalk your prey before taking it down, like–,” the stranger stopped in their tracks. Their voice raised, “Do you smell that?”

A rustle of bushes indicated someone was close.

Martyn moved to another tree, far from the rustling but still within earshot of the two.

“Sounds like fun, but don’t complain when I’m the one who catches them.”

Martyn had a gun. He should be fine.

Martyn heard a distant growl. The ground shook slightly.

Something powerful was here.

Was the sea prince in the distance the same one Martyn met? Would he be ready to see those eyes again? That face? That really pretty, really terrifying face?

“What do we have here?”

Martyn whirled around and was swiftly hit on the chin, the blow knocking him out as he collapsed against the cold cave floor.

#the sea prince au #sea prince chapters #limited life smp #limited life #life series #life smp #trafficblr #majorwood #mean gills #coral kids #scottyn #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #inthelittlewood #scott smajor #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname #pearlescentmoon

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picturesofthegoneworlds · 2 months

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Some words on symbiosis from a prompt fill

Another message tries to echo from back of skull to temple, rippling ‘selfish’ from the impact, probably ‘greedy’ too (hard to decipher, the ripples overlap), wishing to discipline her but that aspect of her head is numb from the root tea

her scars overgrowing forgotten temple masonry, breaching through collapsed barn roofs, tangling and suffocating flower bulbs

Under fields, a stranger appearing back in Gelvaan

Could be beneficial. Laudna said t’manifest good feelin’s and good intentions durin’ the come-up. What was it she had said about symbiotic relationships and alla that? Laudna could be the centuries old mycelium and Imogen could be this season’s crop.

Laudna's skin over hers, hues of the pastel bruises and opalescent scars exaggerated in what is maybe the specific angle of the sun, more likely the tea-glasses, blueprinting schematics on bone and sinew and muscle and vein, how each of them operates, coordinates and disassociates from one another; unaffected by the heat, joint out of socket - must be nice to drop a hand

Laudna is breathing over her – the tent and the earth too – breathing, undulating in gentle waves that wetten and drip like soaking mud splashed back on a caravan if she allows them just out of focus, reflects on all of the times Laudna has been wet against Imogen's stomach, drifts then breathes in tandem with them, realises that the mud is more like acid eroding at the surface as the colours flow away homogenised into a molasses-thick pigment state

“Imogen…”

Both of her hands taken in Laudna's, placed on her ribs, piano keys and missing teeth, plough lines in the fields, always, networks underneath, roots, symbiosis

“How are you feeling?”

Imogen looks up to Laudna, and the skin sloughs off from Laudna's face.

Turns to mush along with the muscle and the viscera and the pastels, hair and scalp coagulating slurry creating a new colour palette that Imogen wants to learn to paint with (wants to learn how to paint from her), an internal reveal she wishes to familiarise, memorise too, touches Laudna's face to try to really learn it but she feels the cool skin and deep laughter lines and bristly brows, hears the giggle from a still intact windpipe.

A familiar skull, sure, though hazy where the veil would cast shadows. A skull she has seen a fair few times - when needs must, when tactics must switch from charm to intimidation to fear

Never brought such to herself though

She only ever got to touch it that first time.

“Yeah…I can barely feel m’head…”

Her tongue feels heavier than usual, slurred.

“So you’re feeling mine instead?”

Laudna’s face re-forms as Imogen recognises the shapes of it through her touch. Mud from the ground rises, sculpts around her skeleton-head structure like clay, baked under sunlight and bleached dusty white, pockets of minerals causing blemishes on the surface.

Skin again, familiar exterior. She follows the length of her neck down to exposed sternum, holds a palm to it and feels through skin so thin that the visual is almost believable.

It ain’t enough.

#Imodna #Imogen Temult #Laudna #Critical Role #Emma writes #I am hoping to be getting back into Intertwined soon. Life is busy.#Thanks for your patience.

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vbsvartalf · 1 year

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Audio Drama Sunday, 12/4/22

Yesterday was a long, big, busy Sunday, filled with some amazing audio dramas that I must share with all of you.

Dead Air, by Realm Media (created by Gwenda Bond) - If you like the true crime genre of podcasts, then a fictional version might just be up your alley. It's suspenseful, emotional, and filled with dark, dry humor. I've been devouring it recently, stopping just short of binging the entire thing in a single setting. I'm not a true crime fan, but I'm still hooked. If you liked Arden, I think you'll like this show.

Greater Boston, by Alexander Danner and Jeff Van Dreason - Humor, surrealism, quiet drama are all at the heart of Greater Boston. I know it's been around for a while and has a huge fandom but I'm excited that I get to experience this show for the first time six years after it started. Once I finish, I have a feeling I'll start the series over again without missing a beat.

A Ninth World Journal, by David S. Dear - The ultimate actual play turned audio drama, A Ninth World Journal episodes might be short but they are packed to the gills with content and keep you guessing as to what is going to happen next. David S. Dear is a fantastic narrator I've heard on several other shows at this point and it's wonderful to see him shine as the star.

Exoplanetary, by C. Christopher Heart - Managing to weave half a dozen sci-fi stories together in a nonlinear fashion without getting things too confusing is no easy task, but Exoplanetary as not only done just that, but thrived at it and keeps me coming back for new stories and new angles. It's filled with heart and emotion that stay with you long after the episodes is finished. From robotic love to colonialism to time travel, this show has it all.

Among the Stars and Bones, by Ungodly Hour Productions - Technically this will be my third listen but each time I get something more out of it, I feel more for the characters and understand their motivations. Telling a story from 8 or 9 limited viewpoints is a great way to employ the unreliable narrator, or as it happens, 8 or 9 unreliable narrators. I've seen recently that they are casting for season 2 and I cannot contain my excitement!

Old Gods of Appalachia, by DeepNerd Media - Folk horror, when done right, is better than any subgenre of any genre of literature, bar none. I will live and die on this hill. Old Gods does folk horror the right way. There's mood and atmosphere, a sense of place and a sense of dread. The show will have you jumping at shadows and creepy noises down by the creek at the witching hour.

The Town Whispers, by Cole Weavers - While similar to Old Gods of Appalachia, The Town Whispers takes cosmic horror and turns it up to 11 alongside all the folk horror that creeps around the edges of the Fort. The story telling is sharp and a sense of doom and dread purvey every word Mr. Weavers speaks. It's beautiful and chilling and leaves me needing more.

Malevolent, by Harlan Guthrie - It's a simple premise, guy wakes up unable to see with a creepy voice in his head that is not his own. Oh also there's a dead body, also there are monsters running around, oh also lots of creepy books, oh also it's set in the heart of Lovecraft Country. What could go wrong? I'm late to the party on the fandom for this show but as I work through the episodes I see why the fandom has exploded Hannibal style all over Tumblr.

Hi Nay, by Motzi Dapul - What if the Magnus Archives were less focused on Eurocentric monsters and fears and entities? What if there was a less organized group of people going after them? What if all of it was recorded lo-fi and given a health dose of Filipino folklore? Well, you'd have Hi Nay and you'd sweep the internets with a new, obsession worthy podcast that teaches as much as it entertains. Also they are working on getting 1000 subs on Youtube so get on that people!

The Kingmaker Histories, by Meg Molloy Tuten - Made by the same geniuses that brought us Less is Morgue, this audio drama gives us a glimpse at a steampunk world filled with magic. I enjoyed the first episode immensely. The acting, the script, the sound design are all top notch. Have to say I love this Ariadne character, she seems nice.

Moonbase Theta, Out, by D.J. Sylvis - Dystopian futures, corrupt governments, sinister warnings about the moon. Sounds like a typical day in 2022, right? Moonbase Theta, Out was and is ahead of its time in terms of storytelling, narratives, and characters. It's really a who's who in the world of audio drama with "famous" voices popping in and out to voice characters that will make you do the Leo pointing meme at least twice and episode.

WOE.BEGONE, by Dylan Griggs - Part surrealist sci-fi, part existential horror, WOE.BEGONE is a show that makes me want to run away screaming whilst at the same time binging more and more episodes. How deep does this creepy, deadly game go? What is the point of it all? Will Mike just be able to relax and have a nice time? I need to know!!!

And 195, by Guendalina Cilli - I just found out about this audio drama yesterday and I'm already a fan. I'm a runner with a bad sense of direction myself so the basis of the show is very, very familiar to me (aside from getting lost in other dimensions, that's not familiar but you never know in these days).

We Fix Space Junk, by Battle Bird Productions - Dystopian space dramas are a trope for a reason, but We Fix Space Junk manages to avoid the pitfalls and enjoy all the benefits of said trope. It's fresh, fun, and exciting. I've decided it was time for a re-listen to see what things I missed out on in the beginning that are integral parts of the show by the end. I'm already having a blast!

Care & Feeding of Werewolves, by Brenna Anderson-Dowd - What if True Blood were a sitcom, but far better than the sum of those two parts? What if it were funny and informative, silly and meaningful? You'd have Care & Feeding of Werewolves and you'd enjoy every single episode of this weird little show, and I do mean that endearingly. If it weren't weird, it wouldn't be nearly as fun.

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tigereyes45 · 4 months

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A missing Mcspirk scene about Sybok, from Star Trek V. That takes place after the party but before they make it back to Yosemite. This fulfills two of my bingo prompts for the Mcspirk Bingo being hosted on the @mcspirkevents blog.

Summary:

Jim decides to check on McCoy a few hours after the party ends. Bones is alone, and upset. The tension in the room is palpable as Jim decides to risk bringing up the whole Sybok fiasco now. He needs answers. There's a deep-seated need to know why McCoy never told him and Spock about his father before.

Start:

With a familiar roll of his eyes, McCoy leans back in his chair. His knuckles turn white as he grips his knees. “Kirk, just ask already.”

“Kirk?” It sounds strange hearing his last name come out of Bones’ mouth rather than Jim. Kirk steps a little closer until he’s standing by McCoy’s shoulder. All within reach in case the doctor felt so inclined to reach out. “What should I be asking, Bones?”

“Don’t act innocent.” Bones rolls his eyes before turning back towards the window. Starlight shines against his face. It cast small spots of lights scattered throughout the shadows about him. Deep blue eyes twinkle, as they look out. “I know better than your usual acquaintance.”

It’s an unfair dig. Jim folds his hands behind his back in a parade rest. “And yet after everything that happened today, I feel as if I’m getting to know you for the first time.” When McCoy raises his head, Jim twists just enough to face him. He offers an amused smile.

Bones drops a hand onto the arms of the chair. “You know me Jim.” McCoy never looks away. His gaze is steady, and tone certain. However, Jim can see the sadness in his eyes. The lack of shaking in his voice does very little to hide the grief, and fear evident in the curl on his lips, and the light shaking of his leg.

Jim should comfort him. If this were any other time he would have done just that, but hurt rears its ugly head, and he asks the one question that has been bothering him since Sybok’s sudden show.

“Do I?”

Curled lips fall into a flat line. Water wells up along the corner of already wet eyes. “Does this really change so much?” This time the shaking shifts from McCoy’s leg to his voice.

Before he can answer that, Jim must know. “If I say it does?”

McCoy hangs his head. For a moment it stills. Time slows down as Bones takes a deep breath, lost in thought. Jim squeezes his wrist within his hand. Why didn’t you tell me? Is there a reason you didn’t trust me? Have I ever proven to be disloyal, or judgemental? Tell me Bones. Why? Jim could ask, but why wouldn’t McCoy just tell him? There has been so few secrets between them in the past, and maybe that’s the problem. Kirk deliberately inhales. All the secrets that have ever lied between them were Jim’s or Spock’s. Bones has always been an open book. They were blinded by their perceptions, the disguise McCoy dons. If it was a disguise then what has been the truth? Were they ever friends? Ever more? Did he even have the right to call himself anything but a stranger?

“Then you should find a new doctor.” Jim takes a step back. Bones refuses to meet his gaze. That’s for the best because there was no way for Jim to control the pain rushing through his body. It feels as if the enterprise was splitting into. As if the warp core was shattered right in half and about to melt down. It might as well, for what is life without McCoy, or Spock for that matter?

It would be even worse than his time as admiral.

“Bones,” Desperate for a bit of normalcy Jim reaches out. He rests a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. Rather uncharacteristically, McCoy pulls out from beneath Kirk’s grasp with a glare on his face. More like a cornered animal than a man, he pushes his chair back, standing unsteady, eyes trained on Kirk’s. The captain’s voice was far fainter than he wanted. “Why?”

And here's my updated bingo card:

I decided to color code the stars based on whose P.O.V. the story is in.

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ladyveravincent · 1 month

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A Court of Bones in Bloom

Excerpt from Chapter 1

Good Gods.

He was still the most beautiful creature she had ever seen.

The handsome Shadowsinger wore black pants and a tailored top showing off his magnificent wings. Ever so slowly, she allowed herself to glance up at his beautiful face, finally able after months to admire in the perfect sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw, so at odds with his windswept black hair and full lips. The tendrils of his tattoos begged to be traced and the usual silver earrings he wore were replaced with blue jewels that matched his siphons. She could have sworn those beautiful hazel eyes widened slightly before he slid on his signature apathetic mask. Elain knew Azriel had a temper and an iciness, but it never frightened her. She recognized the need to hide oneself from others.

Embarrassed, she quickly glanced down, his blue siphons slightly illuminating before he clasped his scarred hands behind his back.

Cauldron boil me, she thought.

“I…”

She squared her shoulders, only able to clasp her hands in front of her dress. Why couldn’t it be him? Why couldn’t the Cauldron have picked him? Why couldn’t she stay away when he made it painfully obvious he wasn’t interested? Brown eyes bore into hazel ones, as the two breathed in tandem, waiting for the invisible threads that pulled them apart to snap.

“I hope you’ve been well-”

“I’m sorry, my shadows they-”

Mother above. Thousands of unspoken words danced on the tip of their tongues.

In the silence that followed, a single shadow twirled around her neck and slinked downward toward her open palm.

“I believe this belongs to you.” She held the shadow in her hand and extended it towards a blushing Azriel.

Elain didn’t know when she fell for the Shadowsinger, but she suspected it was when she peered into his hazel eyes and lost herself between the flecks of green and gold. Azriel’s gaze seemed to see straight to her soul.

“Elain!” They both breathed sharply as the spell was utterly broken. A tipsy Mor appeared, swaying as she leaned over the wooden banister.

“Nesta’s asking for you! She needs your help fastening some flowers into her veil.” She offered Mor a quick smile before casting a shy glance toward the Shadowsinger.

“See you at the ceremony?” He nodded curtly in response, and she quickly climbed the stairs, almost to the top until his smooth voice whispered.

“I’ll see you there, Elain.”

She paused, failing to ignore the shudder that ran through her body and the need that pulsed through her veins. Down the hall, a chorus of laughter broke her trance. As she walked to Nesta’s room, she wiped away the tears that gathered on her cheeks, and with a shaky breath, mustered up a smile wide enough to banish any shadows from her face.

#acotar #elain #azriel #fanfic #a03 fanfic #elriel #elain x azriel #azriel and elain #azriel x elain

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shadowandbonecastarchive · 2 years

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ben barnes’ (sirius) insta 23/5/22

I AM GIGGLING OMG THEYRE BOTH SO FINEEEE THANK YOU CALAHAN SKOGMAN

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone cast #shadow and bone season two #kit young #ben barnes #jesper llewellyn fahey #jesper fahey #the darkling #the homies hate the darkling but love ben barnes #aleksander morozova #HOWNARE THEY BOTH SO FUCKINH FINEEEEEE #PRAISE THE LORDDDDDD #ON MY KNEES BEGGING FOR MERCY #six of crows #screeching #two of the thinks keeping me bi #shadow and bone cast archive

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bardnuts · 5 months

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Be Gay, Do Drugs, Hail Satan - Chapter 6 - katabatic - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

My fic is not dead my fic is not dead my fic is n

Now you’ve really done it. Crouching in the shadows behind a cracked sarcophagus, you listen to the ambient popping of bones and frantically review your options.

Abandoning that wretched bard to his fate has probably bought you some time. While the risen undead are devouring Twill, you can creep your way to the exit and escape into the—

—the wilderness, where, finding yourself once more alone and friendless, you will be at the mercy of any hunters Cazador sends your way—

—or else doomed to hideous transformation in some fetid swamp, succumbing to ceremorphosis, tentacles spilling from your beautiful face—

You shudder violently. No. It won’t happen. Across the chamber, Twill cowers against the wall, brandishing his lute as the risen scribes advance on him. You unsling your bow and nock an arrow. You can’t let that fool bard die. He’s your only asset—you just collected him.

You need him.

Your arrow punches through vertebrae and propels the scribe into the path of Twill’s lute, resulting in a discordant twang and an explosion of bones. The remaining undead cast about for you, skulls swiveling on their dusty necks, but you’ve already slid across the floor and into the shadow of a broad pillar. Safe.

Twill takes advantage of their lapsed attention to fling himself into an open tomb.

Think, you command yourself. You’re going to get out of this alive if it kills you again. You can’t escape the way you came in—even through several layers of stone walls you can hear the muffled explosions. Your best way out of here is a break in the chapel wall, a V-shape of cascading stone, through which you can see slick limestone stalactites and a distant mist of sunlight.

Unfortunately, five clattering undead stand between you and safety. They’re searching for you in an aimless, meandering fashion, still just a little too mindless to know exactly what they’re looking for.

You peer around the pillar for a better look. The skeletons are well-armed, for scribes. That one is definitely a wizard. And Twill has risen head and shoulders from his hiding place and is making frantic hand signals at you. This idiot is going to get the both of you killed.

Then he strums his lute.

In the shadowy recesses at the other end of the chamber, something meows. Bones rattle as the scribes turn to face the noise, and you whip your head around in time to see a spectral feline wave its tail in a languid taunt before it turns and slips into the darkness. What in the—

Wait. Their backs are turned. The path to the doors is clear. This is your chance.

You break out from behind the pillar with an arrow nocked, draw the string, and fire mid-stride, sliding home into your new cover behind a crumbling sarcophagus as one of the scribes explodes into pieces. By the time the others react, you’re hidden again and a few precious steps closer to escape. With the blood pounding in your ears, you glance toward Twill’s hiding place.

The bard winks at you, wiggles his fingers, and plucks a single bright note.

Meow.

The scribes cast about wildly. A kitten leaps off the top of Jergal’s mossy statue and vanishes on impact with the ground. You draw. You step out of cover. You fire.

Another one bites the dust.

You drop back into the shadows and press yourself to the floor as one of the scribes clatters past, only feet away from you. There’s only three of them left. By the gods, that’s almost manageable, so long as you’re both careful. Your deranged bard is turning out to be quite the find, isn’t he?

With a silent breath, you set down your bow and draw your dagger. It’s a dull blade with a long, sordid history: until quite recently, it was Cazador’s favorite cheese knife. When the scribe passes your hiding place, you surge up and slip the dull edge between two dusty vertebrae. The skeleton collapses.

Dexterity: Critical failure

A cloud of bone dust goes straight up your nose. You double over, coughing uncontrollably, and sag against a pillar.

There’s no hiding now. The two remaining scribes are charging toward you, both heavily armored and sporting spiked clubs, and although these weapons are rusted halfway to the hells and flaking away before your eyes, the ravages of time has not diminished their ability to transform a humanoid skull into an explosion of brain matter, and in spite of this your unparalleled instinct for self-preservation has been overridden by a fistful of inhaled dust and so you can do nothing, nothing, except watch their charge through streaming eyes,

and then Twill hurls a chunk of rock across the tomb and knocks one of them clear off its feet. The other falters, and you manage, just barely, to dodge its poorly-aimed blow and stumble around the side of the pillar, gasping for breath.

“Ho, ugly!”

Your stomach drops to your toes. Twill is standing on a sarcophagus, in full view directly in front of the doors, with one hand resting against his instrument and the other cocking back for another throw. The scribes turn immediately for this easier prey. Twill’s second throw misses by a mile, and now he’s armed only with a lute, and for the second time in as many minutes you resign yourself to finding a new source of protection.

Twill plays a strange, discordant chord, one-two-three-four.

MEOW.

The doors behind him burst open and a wave of spectral cats crests and crashes into the derelict tomb.

Hundreds of them, cats and kittens, shorthairs and longhairs and tabbies and tressyms and ugly flat-noses with bottlebrush tails and you think you even see a lion in there somewhere, all rising and breaking with the graceful fluidity that only cats and running water possess. Their shapes bleed into one another as Twill’s fingers blur over the neck of his lute, each note steering the tide in a new direction.

As the undead scribes reel around in the bewildering thrall of this illusion, you manage to scrape your jaw off the floor and hurl your dagger into Twill’s feline crescendo. The knife turns once in the air and decapitates its unfortunate target. The sole remaining scribe finds its objective—you—and takes a single unsteady step.

Sparks play around your fingertips, swelling into flame. You raise your arm.

“Ignis!”

Your last assailant is thus reduced to a pile of scorched bones and smoldering rags.

Twill strums a moment longer and lets the melody resolve. The flow of ghostly cats drops away like a receding wave from a tidepool. Some linger longer as the music fades away: a litter of kittens tumble across the top of a sarcophagus; a tressym shuffles its wings and licks its bristling shoulders; a scrawny tabby stretches and stalks back into the dark, kicking its hind feet as if to bury a shit. By the time the tomb is silent again, every one of the cats is gone.

Quick, say something irreverent to distract from your astonishment.

“You know, I quite like cats. It’s nice to see the sentiment returned for once.”

Twill is sitting on top of the sarcophagus, kicking his feet. “I consider myself a cat person, too.”

“After a display like that, I would be confused if you didn’t.” You retrieve your bow and your dagger, kicking old bones around nervously as you traverse the chamber. “Now, shall we go? I think we have well and truly exhausted this place and I’ll remind you that we still have found nothing whatsoever with which to pay a healer.”

Twill points across the tomb. “Secret door.”

You’d forgotten about the ill-fated button press that started this whole mess. You follow Twill’s gaze to see a new opening in the cracked wall. Secret rooms in ancient tombs are, of course, typically lousy with treasure. You feel a sudden twinge of fondness for the bard: perhaps he does have his priorities in order after all. And he’s more than proven himself useful in a pinch, even if his methods are frankly insane.

It seems that you are stuck with this unserious fool.

Well, you had better make the most of it. And ensure his loyalty as quickly as possible, before he inevitably discovers what you are. Already, your thirst is threatening to get the better of you. You’ll need to hunt tonight, even if it means sneaking away from your camp. You wonder: would Twill be receptive to your usual seductions? That’s the simplest way, in your experience, to set an arrangement in stone. He’s not entirely repulsive. You might even find it enjoyable.

With your next course of action decided, you draw your attention back to the matter at hand.

“Well now,” you say, rubbing your hands together, “let’s see what we’ve discovered, shall we?”

You have no way of knowing, at this moment, how much you are about to regret your discovery.

#read my drivel boy #baldur's gate 3 #my writing #bg3 fic #astarion tag #astarion #the dark urge #durge tag #twill cavander #withers is about to Happen To Them #twill casts TIDE OF CATS

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d-inoxia · 1 year

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so i wanted to make my own post that's based off of this post (link to my archived blog) this post was another one of those, "What should you put in your Grimoire" type of deals.

I want to make my own bc i've used this list and added to it. @the-owl-guy wrote the first post so go give them some love if you happen to see this post, as this is based off the post they wrote and still contains some items from the original post. (hope you dont mind the tag!! Just wanting to give credit!)

One thing I will start off with, if you're going to make a grimoire or book of shadows, I would recommend 1000% to put it in a binder or in a journal where the pages can be removed, rearranged, and placed in an order how you like them. This way also if you mess up on a page, you can just remove it without having to razor cut a page out of a bound journal. they make really pretty a5 journals with binders in them and refillable pages. (mine is a royal purple with gold embezzlement to make it look like a fancy book)

So this is how i'm laying out my BOS.

Basics:

About You: What is your path/tradition? What do you believe? How did you get started? What keeps you on this path? What is your magic name?

About You: Who are your deities and who will you serve or not serve?

The Rede (if you follow that)

The Three-fold law (if you follow that)

Wheel of the year

Sabbats/Why we celebrate them

Esbats/Why we celebrate them

Lunar Cycle/Sun Cycle

The Four Elements + Spirit

The Four Cardinal Directions

Witch’s tool kit (Ritual tools)

Altars/How to set up an altar

Consecration

Correspondences:

Crystals you have/want

Herbs (check your spice cabinet)

Poisons

Herbal incense

Other things you can use in magic that you already have (garlic salt, eggshells, cords, etc.)

Numerology

Colors/candle colors

Days of the week

Bones/Teeth/Claws (if you'll be working with those things)

Other "Dead" things like snail shells and sea shells. (if you'll be working with those things)

Other witchcraft stuff:

Sigils/How to make them

Planets/What do they mean/Planet Symbols

Zodiac signs/what do they mean/Zodiac Symbols

Astrology Basics

Natal Chart

Symbolism (animals, shapes, and whatever else you wish to add)

What is a hand-fasting ceremony?

“Smudging” and why you can't do it if you're white

Closed Practices to be aware of

Circle Casting/What Direction to draw the circle/What the Four Elements + Spirit represent in a circle.

What Candle Flames Mean

Angels (if you'll be working with them)

The fae (if you'll be working with them-- also just a good idea to know of the fae.)

Other creatures of importance

The different types of religions: Asatru, Druids, Paganism, Wicca, etc.

The Difference between Baneful and Baleful

Altered States of Consciousness (alcohol/drugs and the effects they have on magic)

Deosil and Widdershins

Spells:

What NOT to do

Different types of spells/How they work/What makes a spell work?

How can you use the moon/sun cycles in magic.

How to use the Four Elements + Spirit in your spells

How do the lunar phases/planets/alignment/days of the week/day/night effect our spellwork?

Jar spells and how to make sure they dont mold (unless you want them too)

Hexing/cursing/Binding (if you're into that) and how to undo it.

What to do if you've been cursed

How to stop a ritual if things get Too Real.

Poppets

Taglocks

Intention

Divination:

A section on tarot cards and their meanings

How to use a pendulum

The ideometer effect and how it's bullshit

Meanings of oracle cards

Rune meanings and how to cast them

Throwing the bones (if you'll be working with bones)

Divining Rods

Ogham Staves (typically celtic in nature)

Scrying

Cartomancy (reading playing cards)

Astragalomancy (reading dice)

Ouija Board

Mental health:

Grounding and centering during/after a ritual

Burn out care

A list of what motivates you to do your craft

Small spells for self care/motivation/creativity

Glamour

Astral work:

Your astral space (a map, a description, drawings of important locations)

Your astral body, if it's any different than your physical one

A list of spirits and important information about them

Protection, shielding, banishing, wards, and safety

Manners when interacting with spirits/How NOT to interact with spirits

Methods of projection/travel that work for you

Post-astral grounding methods

General spirit work:

How to interact with spirits and how NOT to interact with spirits (similar to the Astral work section, learn how to be polite to spirits)

Protection, banishing, shielding, wards, and other safety things

How to give offerings (there's more than one way!)

Types of offerings for specific deities/spirits

Methods of communicating with spirits you have found

Signs of spirits

Ways spirits can send signs and messages (animals, dreams, and so on)

A list of different kinds of spirits you work with/have encountered

A section for research, especially if you're doing deity work.

Grounding, if it helps you afterwards

A log of interaction with spirits. This can be like a divination journal but with spirits, if that's what you do.

Etiquette at a cemetery

Cemetery dirt, grave dust, and its uses

Spirit Guides

#witchblr #grimoire #book of shadows #witchy #baby witch #there is probably more to be added here #in fact feel free to reblog and add onto this if you feel like it

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gasolineghuleh · 4 months

Text

Archiving Love, Chapter 2

Chapter 1 is here!

We're back with Evelien and their first week working in the Abbey. This week, we've got a visit from Aether and things get a bit... sexual.

Chapter: 2/2 Rating: Explicit cw: None Words: 5.9k

Sunlight creeps through the curtains of your small room, casting a warm glow across the space. You wake up slowly, the soft light coaxing you out of the dream realm. Stretching, you sit up, the memories of last night's encounter with Aether swirling in your mind. The shadows along the ceiling that rippled and moved with a practiced and feral ease must have been his band mates, the ones you’ve seen scattered throughout the campus on the extremely rare occasion that you had reason to come here. Now that it’s your home, the Ghouls feel closer than ever.

As your gaze drifts across the room it lands on a small plate sitting on the table across the room from your bed, balanced carefully in front of the window on rickety legs. The plate is carefully arranged: slices of fresh, ripe fruit, a warm, flaky croissant, and a small pot of honey. Beside the plate, there's a delicate cup of tea, the steam still rising gently. The oranges are shiny and the apples are shined to a perfect sheen in the small spot of light from the sun. A small bunch of grapes rests against the croissant and honey pot, newly trimmed from the vine.

Your fingers brush against a note left beside the plate. The handwriting is neat, a little flourish with each letter, and a swoopy signature that makes your heart grip in your chest. A smile tugs at your lips as you realize that the breakfast tray is from Aether, and you run your fingers over the dried ink, feeling the slight indent in the parchment from the pen nib. "Sorry for the scare last night," it reads, "I hope this makes up for it a bit." There's a small, sketched smiley face at the bottom of the note and you huff out a laugh when you see it.

You can't help but feel a surge of warmth at this thoughtful gesture, and you sit down quickly to tug the plate closer to yourself. You make quick enough work of the small plate, fully savoring each bite of fruit and croissant, still warm from the oven. The tea matches the fruity blend perfectly, and you make a mental note to yourself to ask Aether if the Ghouls can taste the same as people— perhaps the plate was put together by someone with a more normal palate and simply just delivered by the Ghoul. A shake of your head dispels the thoughts— don’t let your anxiety take something good away from you before you’ve even finished it.

Finishing the meal, you push the plate aside, a sense of contentment settling over you. You lean back heavily in your chair and blow out a comfortable breath, folding your hands over your stomach and looking out the frosted pane of glass that serves as a window. The sun is steadily rising higher into the sky and the brightness gives you a brief hope of a warm day before you see the wind, bone chillingly cold, kick up. You huff out another sigh and push back from the table, standing and brushing yourself off. The library awaits, with its endless shelves and ancient secrets, but now there's an added layer to your day – a connection with Aether that seems to grow with every steady beat of your heart.

Stepping out of your room, the now becoming familiar embrace of the library greets you— it’s almost as if the incense from the library refuses to leave its confines, and the smell hits you like an embroidered pillow to the face. The shelves stand tall, guardians of knowledge and history. Today, they seem to whisper secrets, perhaps stories of other hidden romances within these ancient walls. Your heart beats with a new rhythm, each step an echo of the curiosity and excitement Aether has ignited inside your belly. Ghouls were allowed to have relationships with Siblings at this Abbey, and even if they weren’t… you aren’t a Sibling, are you?

As you walk among the rows of books, your mind replays every detail of last night's encounter. The way Aether moved, the sound of his laughter, the gentle sincerity in his eyes – it all paints a picture of someone complex, someone intriguingly different from the rumors and whispers that float through the Abbey. Aether didn’t seem feral at all when you met him last night, and he had never had any inclination towards the violence you’ve heard horror stories about.

Midway through the morning, as you're engrossed in an ancient manuscript, a shadow falls over the page. You look up with a slight huff of indignation before you recognize who’s blocking your lighting. He's standing there, a slight smile playing on his lips, as if he's both pleased and slightly nervous to see you. The air around you seems to charge with electricity, a current running between you two, unseen but deeply felt.

Aether breaks the silence, his voice a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. "Did you enjoy the breakfast?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. You nod, words escaping you in the moment. There's a comfort in this exchange, a simplicity that belies the complexity of emotions brewing beneath the surface.

He can read you so easily, and even if he only pretends to understand what you say, it's enough to keep you going back for more.

You nod again. "Very much so. Thank you for asking."

He chuckles, taking another step closer. Your heart is pounding like crazy now, his presence a tangible thing in the room. If he takes one more step, he'll be too close for you to back away. But you have no intention of doing so. His face tilts downwards, and the next thing you know, he's leaning forward to brush his lips against yours, his gloved hands laying flat against the table you're sitting at. You feel your whole body come alive, your mind still reeling from the shock of his closeness. He tastes faintly of tea and something else that you can't name-- ozone, maybe?

Or is it just the air around him? Either way, you want to taste him, breathe him in, become intoxicated with his scent. With everything about him.

He lets out a low growl, pulling away to look at you with hunger behind the glass of his helmet. You want nothing more than to dive into those deep amber pools-- to lose yourself completely in those mysterious eyes. They speak to you without words, their warmth, their magnetism pulling you further and further under their spell. He reaches out a hand, tentatively, slowly caressing your cheek with long fingers. Your skin tingles where they touch. "Why don't I come back later on this evening, when you're alone and the Abbey is asleep?"

The power thrumming between the two of you nearly overwhelms you as you hold his gaze. Is he truly considering leaving right now? To come back here after dark, just so he can kiss you some more? Of course, your heart leaps in anticipation. You've waited all day to hear his voice, to see his eyes, to feel his body pressed against yours once more.

"I think I'd like that," you say, a sudden burst of shyness overtaking you now that his lips are parted from yours. Before you can help it, your eyes skate down to the zipper of his pants, a noticeable bulge starting to swell there. His breath catches when he notices your gaze, and his forked tongue darts out to lick his lower lip.

"Good. See you tonight then." Aether winks garishly before he leans in and bridges the gap between the two of you. His mouth is hot and wet as he kisses you goodbye, lingering for a moment with a sigh of resignation as he finally pulls away. The air in the room crackles around you as he leaves, disappearing down the hall with the door firmly shut behind him.

All thoughts of books vanish as your mind wanders off, unable to process anything other than the amazing Ghoul that just left the room. As much as you love to read, it doesn't matter anymore; your bookmarks and highlighting are scattered all over the table, forgotten by now. Instead, you let your gaze travel across the room, falling on the large doors leading outside the library, to the greater hall of the Abbey. You could probably find him, if you tried hard enough... But no, anxiety wins this time. You'll wait until this evening, when he comes back.

An hour passes in agonizingly slow minutes, interspersed with furtive glances at the door to the Library, willing it to open so that he will appear once more. It won’t be until well after night falls that he’ll come, but that doesn’t stop you from wishing the time would move faster and faster. You feel like you're waiting for Christmas, a child desperate to tear at the wrapping paper and bows that hide their presents from them. His skin, hidden under the black ensemble that the Ghouls wear, was warm where he touched you.

You want him to touch you again.

You want him to kiss you again.

You want more.

The moment you see Aether step through the doors, you're already waiting for him. Your legs are jiggling as you sit, but you're smiling so broadly that it hurts. You rise from your seat and stride over to where he's standing, waiting for him to put his arms around your waist. "I'm so happy to see you," you whisper into his shoulder. He returns your embrace, his own arms strong and firm around you. The only sound in the room is the deep, even breathing of the Ghoul.

"I'm happy to see you, too." He pulls away from the hug and looks down at you, a smile on his face-- or what's visible of his face, below the break in his mask. He runs his thumbs along your cheekbones, making you shudder slightly in a sudden surge of renewed desire.

"I wanted to see you again." The words feel weak as you speak them.

"You've seen me a lot recently." Your cheeks grow red at the teasing, but it's true. He's seen you twice now, and kissed you twice now-- once with hesitation, and once with intent. You move closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth again. He chuckles at this, a soft sound, and his lips move towards yours, his breath hot and sweet. Aether leans back in, his lips brushing against yours, tantalizingly close. His eyes meet yours, and his forked tongue darts out again, moistening his lower lip.

"Is that so wrong?" Your heart thumps-- was this the kind of flirting he expected from you? But what did you know about flirting?

"I suppose not." Aether smirks and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand and running your thumb across his smooth skin, pulling back slightly when your thumb bumps against his helmet. He leans away from you at the contact, his arms dropping from your shoulders to reach behind his head. "Let me get this out of the way, pet." The buckle at the back of the helmet releases with a clinking sound, and he pulls it off of his head with practiced ease. "Much better." He smiles down at you, his eyes bright and alive, his teeth sharp and white. Two fangs peek out on his lower lip, a quiet type of danger.

You've never enjoyed danger, but this was different.

His smile turns sly, and his hands are at the collar of his shirt, fingers working quickly to unbutton it. He's wearing a simple black undershirt underneath, and the urge to feel his bare skin against your own suddenly becomes overwhelming. You press closer, reaching up to tug at the fabric. He catches your wrists in one hand, laughing quietly.

"What's gotten into you today, pet? It's only been a few hours." You laugh in response, struck with a wave of uncertainty and anxiety. Aether sees this, his cocksure smile slipping into one of concern. "Are you alright with this, love? I had assumed-"

"No, no. I'm fine." You slip your hands back around his shoulders, pull him closer, press your lips against his neck and whisper, "I want this."

He chuckles, his laughter low and gravelly. "If that's what you want, pet." His lips brush against yours again, this time harder, more urgent. You pull him closer, and his hands are on your waist, on the small of your back. When his cold fingers slip under the hem of your short dress you gasp, your lips falling from his.

"Not here. Back in my room." You take his hand and tug him towards the door of your bedroom, tucked away in the depths of the library, far from wandering eyes or midnight visitors. He follows willingly, a smile on his lips as his eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail. You can't help but wonder what he thinks, if he likes what he sees-- you never have yourself, but something about the way his eyes glow when they slide over your curves gives you a little more self confidence.

Once back in your room, he closes the door behind him, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm light on the area. Your gaze falls on the altar in the corner, the small collection of personal items on it reminding you of the importance of your home. A rush of adrenaline speeds through your veins, the thought of Aether being in your small and inhabiting your privacy-- it feels more intimate than sex ever could.

You reach out for him, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him towards you with a hint of trepidation and nervousness. He chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, his lips already on yours. "Let me take care of you, pet," he murmurs into your mouth. His fangs prick your lower lips and you struggle not to smile into the kiss. Heat floods your lower belly and you can feel your muscles tighten in response to the pleasure even just kissing this Ghoul brings you. Who would've thought you'd be here-- kissing the Ghoul you've been secretly crushing on since the first time he came to your cabin with a book delivery.

You reach up, your hands sliding up his torso, his shirt bunching up at the hem as you lift it up. His skin is smooth and warm, slightly greyish in tone and dappled with coarse black hair. You run your fingers over the muscles in his abdomen, a contented sigh slipping past his lips as his head drops back and breaking the kiss. "It's been a long time since anyone touched me," he admits, a bit bashfully. The way he's holding you, the way his hips are pressed against yours, his desire for you is obvious. You can feel the thick length of his cock against your belly where it rests, swollen and hard. You swallow, the sudden nervousness making your mouth go dry.

"You've done so well so far," he purrs. His fingers slip under the hem of your dress, and you raise your arms as he pulls it up and off. The cool air of your bedroom kisses your skin and you shiver, a chill running down your spine and making you press closer to his warmth. "I can feel how tense you are, pet." Aether's finger traces the line of your spine and you shiver again. You're wearing nothing underneath, and the only thing separating his skin from yours is a pair of cotton panties. His claws slip over the elastic band of your panties and he arches an eyebrow smoothly at you in question. You give a nod and he hooks his finger into the waistband and pushes them down, leaving you fully exposed to his gaze. "You're beautiful," he says, his eyes roaming over your body.

"You're one to talk," you say, a flush tinging your cheeks as you say it. He is beautiful, though, that's the problem-- he has an otherworldliness to him that only accentuates his features, making him feel almost untouchable... until now. You bring a hand to the side of his face, stroking gently until your palm rests against his jawline.

"I know it's a bit strange to be here in the middle of the night, but I really like you. And I wanted you to know that." Your gaze flits away from his eyes, back towards the wall. There was no chance of the Cardinal coming in, was there? It's already past 8 pm, and- "Hey," Aether cuts through your silent worries, "Take a breath, Evie. We're alone." His hand trails along your shoulder, warm and comforting in its stability.

"Sorry. I didn't expect to be here so soon," you say, huffing out a breath of nerves.

"It's alright. It's understandable. I'm not here on an official errand for Papa, and I doubt you expected me to come all the way back here after we parted ways this morning... even if I did say I would, eh, pet?" He cocks an eyebrow again, this time as a joke, and you allow yourself to giggle.

"You did promise to return this evening," you say, biting your lower lip, the nervousness returning. You wonder if he's been waiting for this moment as long as you have. "I didn't actually expect you to, though." Another tinge of color in your cheeks, another slanted grin from him.

"How could I not, pet?" His large hand covers the side of your face gently, his thumb stroking your cheek as he leans closer, closing the distance between your lips. "Now can I take you?" he asks, his breath ghosting over your lips. You can feel his arousal pressing into your belly, the heady scent of him making your head swim. He smells like musk and incense, ozone and heat.

"Please," you whisper. The word escapes from your lips on a breath, a soft sigh, a request from the depths of your heart. It's something you didn't know you wanted so bad until he spoke it into being, and now that it's been spoken aloud, it's all you can think about. Your cunt throbs with a sudden amorous ache and you struggle to say anything more. "I want you."

"I know. I can feel it." His fingers slide down the column of your neck, your skin prickling with goosebumps as his clawed fingertips graze over your breast and across your nipple, tweaking the small nub between his fingers through your bra. With another raised eyebrow and silent nod, he slips a finger beneath the strap of your bra and slides it down your arm until you pull it free, his other hand mimicking the motion on the other side. Your head swims as he holds both of your breasts in his hands, running his thumb over your nipples before giving them both a playful tweak.

"Have you done this before, dove?" he asks, his voice lower. When you shake your head no, the crests of his cheeks seem to darken slightly, and his pupils blow black. A forked tongue flicks out between his teeth, wetting his lips. "I'll show you everything, then. First," he begins, "We have to make sure we're both lubed and stretched, yeah?..." He moves around you, guiding you to lay back on the bed. You watch, transfixed, as your insides suddenly flood with desire as he frees his cock from the zipper of his pants, allowing you a look at the head, red and swollen and larger than you'd expected. The tip is flushed and already wet with pre-cum, beading at the end of it like morning dew.

"I trust you," you whisper, the words settling in your gut as you say them. Your clit twitches slightly and you become acutely aware of how much you want him. "Don't hold back." Aether moves until you're situated comfortably in the position that he wants you, his hands parting your thighs and exposing your wet cunt to his touch. He takes a moment to study you, his eyes roaming across your body before he touches you again, bringing one finger to your clit and pressing softly. His amber eyes watch as you inhale sharply, your hips canting upward into the sensation. You're no stranger to sexual feelings-- you've touched yourself plenty... but this is different.

The anticipation. The tension in the air. The thrill of what it will feel like once his cock is inside of you, filling you... The thought of it is almost too much.

You let out a moan and buck again. "Keep doing that," you whisper, a smile spreading across your face as you say it. It feels good, yes, but it feels better to trust him with your body and soul more than anything. The pad of his finger slips lower, circling around your entrance in a teasing motion that has you squirming underneath him. You reach up, grasping for the collar of his undershirt and he catches your fingers between his own, lacing them together as his finger slides into you.

The sudden pleasure of his finger sliding perfectly into your core has you arching off the bed, a groan escaping your throat as he curls it into a beckoning motion. You squeeze his hand in yours and he allows himself to fall forward over you, pressing your joined hands into the bed beside your head and lathing his tongue across your nipple. His hips grind into yours, the friction of his clothing against your clit making you whine with need. He presses his finger deeper into you, rubbing against the upper wall and pressing upwards.

"Oh, that's good," you say, wriggling to give him more room. His lips curl upwards against your skin and you realize he's smiling almost in the same instant that his teeth clamp down on your nipple. He groans around your breast, suckling at the skin hungrily as his finger increases speed, a second pressing at your opening alongside his other digit, causing you to shudder. You squirm beneath him, enjoying the feeling of him stretching your cunt, his tongue flicking at your nipple in earnest now.

"Tell me... if I'm going... too fast," Aether huffs out between breaths and kisses as he makes his way to your other breast, lavishing the same attention on it. Your nipples are stiff, aching pebbles of arousal, and his lips and teeth and tongue are not doing anything to relieve you of that feeling.

"More," you breathe, canting your hips upward into his hand and gasping when his palm brushes your clit. He grins against your soft skin again, looking up at you and resting his chin on your belly. Intentionally, his hand slows down, making you feel every ridge on his fingers as he slides them slowly in and out of you. The noise is enough to bring another flush to your cheeks and you squeeze your eyes closed. "Aeth, come on," you whimper.

"I'll come if you want me to." There's a spark of mischief in his eyes as he smirks again. "But, I would rather come in you." He presses another heated kiss to the skin directly above your cunt and you can feel him huff out a short breath of laughter when you whine. Your cunt aches as the emptiness washes over you, your fluids slick along his fingers as they withdraw. His thumb swipes at a patch of your slickness that coats the pad of his forefinger and you watch as he brings it to his mouth, sucking on his fingers as his eyes slide closed and his hips buck slightly. "You taste so good, pet. I couldn't resist." Aether looks down at you, his eyes glowing softly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "If you want more, I'll give it to you," he purrs. "I just want you to be ready first."

"Ready?" you ask, hardly daring to breathe-- it still doesn't feel real, even seeing him now above you, clad in an undershirt and pants and ready to pounce. His eyes flash with something like hunger as he slides his pants and underwear down, exposing his cock to the cool air. The length of it is impressive, and you feel a wave of anxiety pass over you as you realize just how big he is. Aether just nods, a cocksure smile in place.

"How much more do you want, love?" he asks, dragging his hand along his cock slowly, his eyes on yours. Your own gaze flicks back and forth between his cock and his eyes and as you inhale to answer him, he interjects, "can I eat you out?" You're stunned silent for a moment. You'd never had that offer made before-- no one had ever offered, nor taken the time to do so. Aether waits, watching you, his hand slowly pumping his cock as he waits.

In answer you simply spread your legs further, watching as he licks his lips once more, almost unconsciously. You let your legs fall open at his touch as his hands wander upwards, cupping your ass in his palms and kneading the flesh there. He moves further down the bed and finally brings his mouth to your cunt, pressing his cock against your bed and rutting gently. "Aether," you whisper, arching up to meet his mouth with your clit. He responds with a deep, rumbling growl that reverberates through you, making you shudder with pleasure.

His forked tongue snakes between your folds with ease and he groans, practically burying his face in your cunt. Your eyes flutter shut as he slides his tongue across your entrance, teasing you, dipping inside just enough to make you want more. "Oh, Evie," he breathes, his lips brushing against your skin. You whimper again when his nose bumps your clit in the same moment that his tongue plunges inside of you. The sound seems to spur him on and he picks up speed, his tongue fucking into you in earnest. He slides a hand up to your breast, squeezing it and rolling your nipple between his fingers as he continues to work you with his tongue.

"Aether, I'm so close," you say, your legs starting to shake with pleasure as it grows more taut in your belly. "Keep going." He hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations sending you even closer to the edge. His mouth closes around your clit and sucks gently and that's all it takes, sending you tumbling over the edge of your climax. Aether works you through it with ease, his eyes never leaving yours.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Incredible," you answer. "That was so good. I didn't know I could feel like that."

He smiles, running his palm up and down the length of his cock as he watches you. "Do you still want more?"

"I want it all." The words leave your mouth before you even think about them, but they're true. You bite your lower lip, willing yourself to not be shy-- you want this, just do it!

"As you wish," he replies, sliding off the bed and standing in front of you. You can see his cock clearly now, erect and straining towards his belly, his hand still lazily pumping its length. He kicks his pants and underwear fully off and they land somewhere in the corner, where the two of you will find them in the morning. Aether's amber eyes meet yours again and he smiles, his cock throbbing visibly in his hand. "I want you so bad, pet."

"Then take me," you whisper.

Aether climbs back onto the bed and positions himself between your legs, his cock resting against your thigh. He runs a finger along your slit, teasing you, making you moan. When you wriggle towards him under his touch he grins again, forked tongue flicking out momentarily. You tingle, remembering that he's not quite human after all-- the tail and teeth alone can attest to that, after all. He leans forward, his lips pressed against your ear and he murmurs, "Are you ready for me, Evie? Do you want all of me?" You nod, squirming underneath him. When the tip of his cock swipes through your folds his eyes flutter, almost sliding closed in pleasure.

Another movement from your hips wakes him from his daze of heady arousal and he finally moves, the head of his cock slipping across your entrance in practiced movements. He allows himself to slide inside of you at least, the glide eased by your arousal and his desperation.

He's so big-- your muscles stretch to accommodate him, and when you gasp, he pauses.

"I'm fine," you tell him. "Just a little... tight." His eyes meet yours and he nods, moving forward slowly until he's fully seated within you, his pelvis flush with yours. His hands rub across the delicate skin of your thighs, silent reassurance and adoration.

"I'll wait as long as you need, pet." He presses a kiss to your forehead and you sigh, relaxing into the mattress as the pressure inside of you dissipates, leaving only pleasure behind. "You feel so good," he purrs, "So warm and tight around me." Your heart leaps as you realize how much he's enjoying this, and you cant your hips upwards experimentally, drawing a groan from his lips. "Fuck, that feels good," he growls, his head dipping low as his eyes slide shut in pleasure.

Another roll from your hips has him responding to you, moving forward until he's over top of you and giving his own hips a rock. A moan slips from you as you feel his cock slide inside of you, pressing at your walls in a deliciously intimate firmness. His mouth finds yours and his tongue slips between your lips, stroking and sucking on your lower lip as he continues to fuck into you.

"More," you say against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.He smiles into the kiss, nipping you with his fangs lightly in response. His hips start to move faster and you can faintly hear the sound of his skin on yours through your own gasps and huffs of pleasure. When a groan slips into your mouth from his you reach your arms around his broad shoulders, holding him closer.

"Aether, you're so big," you murmur, feeling your muscles stretch with every thrust inside of you.

"And you feel incredible, pet," he replies, his voice low and husky with desire. "I've wanted this since I saw you the first time." Aether's breath curls around your ear, heating the back of your neck as he nestles his nose there, his hips moving faster. His pelvis presses perfectly into your clit and you feel your body tensing as you get closer and closer to orgasm.

"I'm close, Aeth," you pant, digging your nails into his shoulder blades as you hold onto him for dear life. He growls in response, picking up his pace even more, driving you towards the edge. Gratefully and with a whimper, you tumble over the edge into your climax, the rubber band of tension finally snapping in your belly as you clench down on Aether's cock. He lets out a strangled groan and you feel him spill his release into you, his hips still rocking into yours as he rides out the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

After a moment, he pulls away from you, flopping onto his side next to you with a contented sigh and throwing a forearm over his eyes, his chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. You cross your legs at the ankles, getting more comfortable as your eyes scan the ceiling of your small room. Aether's hand drops to yours and you take it without thinking, smiling to yourself at the small and reassuring contact.

"How are you feeling, pet?" he asks, a smile on his lips as he turns to face you.

"Very satisfied." You laugh, stretching your arms above your head, feeling the pleasant ache in your muscles from sex. Your cheeks are starting to ache from grinning so much, but there's nothing you can do to stop it-- your first time was incredible, and with Aether, no doubt!

"I'm glad to hear it," he says, chuckling as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's been a long time for me." You roll your eyes at him, giggling at his words. "What?! It has!" There's a tinge of color in his cheeks and it accentuates his amber eyes, glowing softly towards you. "I think you'll enjoy what I have planned for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you ask. Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you try to think of what could possibly be planned for tomorrow. You can't think of anything-- nothing is on your schedule that you're aware of, aside from the odd book translation or cleaning job that you left behind today. "I don't know what you mean, Aeth."

He just laughs again, a low rumble in his chest as his eyes slide closed and he smiles, squeezing your hand gently. "I suppose you'll have to wait and see, love."

"But I don't know what time we're supposed to meet!" A curl of anxiety starts at the base of your neck and you feel yourself tensing up in the same moment that Aether rolls to his side and props his head up on an arm, looking at you with a steady eye.

"Eve, trust me. I want to show you something, but I want it to be a surprise." You take a deep breath and nod, agreeing for the time being. It will bother you later, but with this new love... you can handle it.

"Can we do this again?" you ask, a bit of hesitation creeping into your voice. You can't believe that you've done this, with the Ghoul that you've been pining after for so long...

"About that..." Aether licks his lower lip, a hint of unease behind his eyes. "I wanted to ask... would you be mine? You know, eh... My partner?" He shrugs lamely, a small bit of nervous laughter bubbling up. "It's alright if you say no. I'm not good at this stuff, Evvie."

"Aether, you're perfect." You lean in to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. The kiss is hot and heavy, the scent of his musk enveloping you and making you swoon a bit.

"Is that a yes then?" he asks against your lips, laughing into the kiss and holding you closer to him when you nod enthusiastically. "Good. Tomorrow afternoon. I'll come and get you for our next date, pet. I promise," he says when he breaks the kiss. "You need to get some sleep though, yeah, love? It's late. I didn't mean to stay this long." You lean your forehead against his, your eyes slipping closed for just a moment, savoring the seconds that your skin touches his.

"I'm so glad you did."

#the band ghost fanfiction #ghost bc fanfic #papa emeritus #lorraine writes #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #era 4 ghouls #aether #aether ghoul #reader x aether

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therivershaverunred · 3 months

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New DickRae fanfic y'all! A dark adventure of a Talon and a witch into the world of curses and demons, doused in humor and topped with the usual disturbing themes we cannot get enough of.

Excerpt from chapter 1:

Dick’s hand came into a tensed pause halfway through the slice, the tautness that had claimed his biceps and muscles prevented it from continuing any further. His irises shrank beneath the cowl as alarms sounded in his brain, clenching his chest and crushing down onto his heart, which would definitely enter frenzy mode if it hadn’t lost all the beats years ago. A slump formed in his throat, and Dick himself had a hard time swallowing it.

The darkness enveloping them was shifting, pulsing, the shadows seemed to coil and recoil around him, releasing a heavy tension that licked at his skin.

Something had arrived, prowling in the night where he couldn’t see, their gaze trained on his back, painting a target there.

If gooseflesh could prickle his skin, they certainly would break out from the core of him right about now. If he could sweat, his own perspiration could amass into a pool for him to dive in.

He had built quite a knowledge of what aura different species might radiate through the assignments from the Court, the air that wandered about them, all the aspects of their various emotions that could invade the air for his trained instincts and augmented senses to discern. He could tell where and when danger might strike to backtrack out of harm’s way at the last minute. A crucial ability forged in desperate time to keep his head fixed on his neck.

Animals, regular people, irregular people, metahumans, aliens, lab-researched abominations, what sparked his alert signals did not fall under known categories.

This presence, whatever it was, couldn't be from the mortal plane. He had no intel and no information as for what it was capable of, or its danger levels.

The shadows in this vicinity pulsated again, the pace strong and uncontrollable, and Dick couldn’t resist an illusory shudder that rake through his spine - marrow and bones - when tendrils of pure blackness ascended from the floor, billowing and swirling in a grotesque dance as though welcoming the birth of an unfathomable creature from the underworld. His clenched fists were as tight as the heavy pressure hammering his chest, enough for him to almost believe that life had sparked within his heart, the two polars of fight-or-flight instincts hollering into his ears.

His teeth bared as he withdrew the blades from their compartment. He had come so far to step back and quit…

The shadows coiled and undulated, shrinking, expanding, then assuming the form of... a woman?

She twirled her way out of the darkness, standing a safe distance across from him. The trailing indigo cloak she shrouded herself in didn't give away much useful information regarding her identity, but her feminine figure was vaguely visible the moment its loose fabric fluttered in the light breeze of the night. That was how he manage to confirm her gender.

Dick couldn't get a good look at her face or expression, for they were concealed by the hood of her cloak, casting a shield of enigma over her. For a second, he was convinced that the Court had switched tactics and employed a new plan in their mass-production of psychotic undead killers, because she was no different from them all. Her complexion was an unhealthy pale gray, and no emotions were flickering in the violet pools that were her eyes.

But her delicate features weren’t disfigured by criss-crossing black veins - a characteristic shared by all Talons operating and surviving on the electrum alloy the Court invented and branded. Dick noticed the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the cloak - which went to show that she hadn’t been morphed by their ideals for a practical bodyguard. Then there was also the fact that she seemed concerningly diminutive, missing all the minimum requirements the Court upheld with consistency regarding the physique of their elite assassins.

She appeared unable to harm a fly, but Dick wasn't going to let such hoax lure him into her trap. The tension that strained his muscles was gnawing at his inside, he knew by intuition that the woman before him wasn’t to be underestimated.

The air around her betrayed her nature. Demonic . Chaotic . The pressure from her alone could drown him in unending madness if she desired.

He needed a plan.

Right then, the woman bolted.

All the muscles in his body went rigid with readiness in an attempt to calculate her attacks, one of his legs had already pressed into the ground to create momentum. His unblinking eyes set on her, the amber they held flared into a flame…

Only to find her swerving in the direction of the fallen Talon, and crouched down next to him.

A trembling gasp left her, and Dick’s lips pursed as his ears picked up the barely inaudible sound. Was there some sort of connection between her and the human Halloween pumpkin he left there? Was she his secret lover? Was the Court so sick of Dick’s existence and partnered with forces unknown to ensure his elimination?

Was she about to subject him to a rain of fury?

Could he last through it?

Dick brandished his blades with a swift swing of his hand, teeth grinding as he reeled all the wayward thoughts into the furthest corner of his mind. This was no time for meaningless questions.

The woman didn’t spare him a second glance. Her small, pallid hand slid into her cloak to procure an item he couldn’t see. A bomb? An instrument invented from another world’s technology that could snap his head in an instant? A pocket enclosure of a monster which she intended to unleash upon him?

Dick’s thoughts raced in his head, poring over and sieving the information he had managed to gather as he worked on a counter-attack.

She looked no match for him in terms of physical strength, it wouldn’t be so complicated to sever her spinal cord and have death come for her before she hit the ground. But he needed to take her ability into account, which he was in the dark about…

She lifted the device to her lips…

The clutch on the handle of his blade tightened. He couldn’t discern or read this woman, and the unknown was gripping his brain, squeezing out alert signals in all directions…

The situation doesn't look very promising.

She talked, her low voice was gravel-like, with no cadence, inhuman like a Talon, grating on his already frayed nerves.

Was that… a spell? A magic user?

“Raven calling the Titans. I found a person in critical condition. He suffered several heavy mutilations that required immediate medical intervention. Prepare the infirmary, I’m teleporting him back to the Tower.”

A Titan… This should be…

Huh

Huh?

A what?

The Talons that were approved for field work had limited emotional capabilities, and moments of surprise were a rarity for Dick ever since his conversion. That didn’t change the fact that right now, he was in a stupor, he looked stupid with both arms raised gripping two sharp items that he apparently didn’t need, the unnecessary train of thoughts weaving through his mind had burned an unnecessary hole in his brain for no usable reason. Oh, and he definitely needed a reality check, fast.

The woman - or Raven, as she called herself - turned to face him one last time, a snarl dominating her expression. The shadow swirled in waves from the floor again, crashing into her and his prey, sweeping them out of his sight in one swish.

Dick was left alone on the rooftop, again surrounded by the darkness, both arms still raised with a disarray of thoughts to rearrange in his head, and a rising sense of awkwardness to grapple with.

So, a Titan.

The amount of evil she exuded was ten times what he could manage in a rage, and she was a Titan?

Weren’t them like, well, children and adolescents aspiring to be crimefighters? With no hand-on experience and more often than not have to run back to the big guys crying?

And that… Raven was made a Titan?

Dick could no longer stop the incredibility that had started to display itself in full force across his features.

Was screwed recruitment a common theme lately?

Wait.

Even the heroes ran out of budget?

Wait. WAIT!

Fuck, she brought the Talon with her. What was he supposed to resend to the Court?

#robrae #dickrae #talon dick grayson #fanfiction

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