#this is very ironic if you think about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nyx-umbrakinesis · 2 days

Text

minors DNI

Alastor x Lucifer x FReader

Warnings; 18+ only, P in V sex, biting, blood, blood consuming (Alastor mild), threesome, anal sex, reader is a brat, small amounts of Dominance/Submission.

4250 words

Good Morning.

Buzzzzz.

You hear the static hum as awareness seeps back into your consciousness.

Warmth is the second thing that registers with you. A warm bundle under your right arm that smells of pome fruit, and aftershave. Your arm tightens slightly in possession, as you feel the same done to you from a weight over your own abdomen.

A strong arm resting over your waist, the essence of woodsmoke tinged with iron drifts over your shoulder as you feel breath against your cheek, you know the sound you heard means he’s awake.

“Good morning dearest,” Alastor’s cheerful voice is never tired, and you groan in complaint, he chuckles, and you feel your hair being moved off your forehead as the press of his lips meets the side of your temple, you can feel the ever-present smile on his face even with your eyes still closed.

Snuggling down into the warm plush pillow, your bladder decides to make itself known as you feel pressure and the need to relieve yourself, grumpily you start to shift around, prepared to clamber over Lucifer to get out of the bed, knowing there’s no way you’d get past Alastor, as he’s very clingy in the mornings.

As you sling one leg over the Fallen Angel’s waist, Alastor’s arm pulls you back against him, “and where do you think you’re running off to Dear?” A slight growl in his voice, as Lucifer finally rouses, a sound of complaint in the back of his throat as you're pulled away from even cuddling him anymore.

“We talk about this every morning Al... I have need of the facilities.”

“Well, Dearest, you know the rules,” came his taunting sing-song voice, as he taps your nose condescendingly, even Lucifer, who has turned over by now to observe, chuckles at your predicament.

“Five more minutes,” you grumble.

“Correct, ‘five more minutes’” Alastor hums, pleased, wrapping both arms around you, effectively trapping you, but being mindful not to squeeze your lower abdomen.

Lucifer snuggles against your front now, boxing you in, and you whine in complaint, but Alastor simply responds by wrapping a long leg over the top of yours, pinning them down too.

“You two will be the death of me,” you whinge.

“Good job you’re already dead then isn’t it my sweet,” Lucifer laughs.

“Don’t you start too,” you complain, making both men laugh.

“You know how needy Alastor is in the morning love, just let him do his thing,” Lucifer says, kissing you gently as you blink your eyes open, smiling at him.

“Yes, my King,” you say with a mischievous grin at him, knowing it irks Alastor when you give Lucifer reverence of his station. As evidenced by the increase in the sound of static from behind you and the annoyed huff that makes your hair ruffle slightly.

A devious thought enters your head, quickly you grasp Alastor’s knee, and gently tug him even closer to you, causing a pleased sound from your Deer Demon as he presses himself against you fully.

You then wriggle your bum. A sharp inhale comes from behind you, as Lucifer snorts in laughter, knowing full well what you’re doing.

“Do you really think you want to do that right now dear?” Alastor’s voice warns you as the stimulation causes a slight swelling to press against you.

You giggle, “Absolutely,” wiggling again causing his claws to prick your hip as he hisses.

“You’re looking to be punished... aren’t you dear?” Alastor taunts, his nose burying in the crook of your neck, the hair on the back of your neck standing up as it tickles you slightly whilst he sniffs you.

“Me? Never,” you feign shock as Lucifer basks in your warm embrace, pressing his head against your soft chest, his eyes closed as he listens to the pair of you in amusement, his own morning issue throbbing slightly between his legs, but he wasn’t going to let you know about that yet, not when taunting Alastor is so much funnier to watch.

You try to wriggle away from Alastor again as he sniffs your neck harder, effectively tickling you, causing you to flinch and laugh, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay you win,” you laugh as he doesn’t let you go.

Alastor stops his antics, his grin triumphant as you look over your shoulder at him, your bladder spasms again, reminding you of its growing desperation, “all right, now let me up,” trying to wriggle out of his grasp, he growls once more and you huff, increasing your resistance.

He puts head back in your neck and his teeth sink into your flesh in warning, causing you to yelp in surprise. Lucifer laughs at your dilemma, “It’s not time yet,” he chuckles.

“How long,” you say in a whiny voice.

“Oh... right about... ... ... now,” Alastor says cheerfully as he releases all his hold on you, leg and all. Lucifer also lets his embrace relax, accompanied by a laugh.

You huff in annoyance; Lucifer lets you hurriedly clamber over him to get out of the bed.

“Oh Dearest? Do hurry back...” Alastor says amused, “You wouldn’t want us to ‘relieve’ ourselves without you after all,” of course he knows Lucifer also has a hard on.

You are feeling stubborn, so stick your finger up over your shoulder as you go to walk out of the room, you feel a light thud on your back, you look around in annoyed confusion as a duck falls to the floor with a squeak, your eyes narrow at a suspiciously ‘innocent’ looking Alastor.

Annoyed and deciding to be disobedient this morning you decide to take your sweet arse time, lest he get too cocky in his control over you. As much as you badly want to rush back to them and not miss out on a second of time with them, you decide to take a shower too.

After a shower, knowing full well you’ve earned unescapable punishment by now you decide that you should go for all or nothing, and go downstairs to take things a step further, so you make a coffee for yourself, taking your time to drink it, smirking to yourself as Husk asks why you’re so happy today, you give a non-committal answer, mind already back upstairs.

Deciding you’ve left them both (Alastor) to stew for long enough, you prepare a coffee in his favourite mug for him and a plate of pancakes for Lucifer knowing full well there’s no chance Alastor would let your attitude go unpunished for long enough that they don’t get wasted.

Wandering back upstairs, you school your features before walking back into the half bayou bedroom, as soon as you open the door you hear the moaning, you close the door swiftly behind you so no one else can hear.

Looking over at the bed to see Alastor’s red piercing stare directed unerringly at you, as Lucifer, hooked sideways across his lap, gets teased with his claw tips, stimulating the head of his aching weepy cock.

Alastor looks threateningly at you; Lucifer’s eyes are squeezed shut as he whimpers, Alastor expertly keeps up with teasing him, his claws gently pressing into the clearly abused flesh.

“We’ve been waiting for you Dear, poor Lucifer has been taking all my attention while you’ve been absent without leave,” his static voice dominating the room.

Your hands shake, half in fear, half in excitement, you know what Alastor’s displeasure means for you, but deciding to play it cool, you breeze over to the bed, placing the mug and plate down on the bedside table, “I brought breakfast,” you say ignoring his statement, despite the heat pooling in your belly, and moisture saturating your undergarments.

Alastor’s smile turns absolutely feral, you look into his eyes defiantly as Lucifer whimpers as his hand releases him, you feel rather smug at being able to draw such emotions from his easily readable eyes.

You shriek as a clawed hand grasps the front of your night gown, Lucifer is indignantly shoved aside with one hand, in favour of swiftly pulling you down on top of Alastor, who keeps a firm, sharp grip on you, making you wince as his eyes darken to radio dials.

“I suppose you found your little stunt terribly entertaining,” he purrs as he pulls your face down to meet his brutal kiss, as Lucifer huffs in annoyance at being neglected now, so he presses himself into your side, kissing your shoulder as your nightwear gets shredded, exposing heated flesh.

The world spins, and you feel the plush mattress on your back as you’re caged in by long arms, not many have been in this position with the Radio Demon and lived to tell the tale, you feel rather smug, as you moan into the kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your eager mouth as you give as good as you receive.

Lucifer’s tail winds around your arms, pulling your wrists together as he starts kissing your neck. The dual attentions making you moan.

“You my Dear, I’m afraid, are in big trouble.” Alastor's voice is back to being deliriously happy, which makes you more nervous, as it means he has formulated a meticulous plan for revenge, not driven by emotions anymore.

His nips to your body, are indeed punishing, making you cry out with every single bite, not too deep, but enough that each one bleeds, he makes sure to taste every single one, getting lower and lower as he goes, Lucifer lying beside you, watching with heavy eyelids, stroking his impressively thick cock as he watches Alastor’s progress down your body.

You lick you lips as you spot the bead of precum on top of his tip, but Lucifer just smirks and bringing his palm up to the top of his cock gathers the moisture to rub into his already moist skin, he tsks at you, fully agreeing with Alastor at your need for punishment.

Which is technically giving you exactly what you want, but you’d never tell them that.

You wince and gasp as your attention is drawn back to Alastor with another sharp bite that smarts, and makes you hiss, right around your nipple, Alastor smirks again, suckling at the blood in pleasure before moving on, down your stomach, small bites that leave marks in a straight line slightly off centre, avoiding your belly button, before sinking his teeth into your right hip.

He keeps his torment up, until he spreads your legs open wide, Lucifer catching your left leg to keep it open, and Alastor keeping his hand on your right knee joint, making sure you stay spread wide as he inhales your mouthwatering almost floral fragrance of arousal.

The sound of jazz floating across the room as the radio comes to life startling you slightly, drawing your attention away from the sinful demon between your legs briefly, before a sharp piercing pain on the inside of your right thigh causes you to cry out, your eyes shooting back down as your still bound hands tangle in his hair, catching on his antler in your haste.

You feel a huff of air as he laughs, still keeping his teeth lodged in the meat of your inner thigh, he bites a little harder, causing you to half moan, half cry out in pain, you tug sharply on his hair in protest. His smile, impossibly widens, keeping his teeth steady, threatening you for just a little longer with them, before withdrawing, and licking the wound soothingly as you whimper.

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself Dear?” Keeping up with the soothing action of running the flat of his tongue on the reddened, bleeding bite, this one worse than all the others.

“I brought you a coffee,” you say cheekily as he growls in warning, knowing the kind of brat you can be.

You cry out as Lucifer’s teeth sink into the other side of your neck as he punishes you this time.

“Don’t be naughty sweetheart, you wouldn’t want to provoke our dear Alastor now, would you?” Lucifer says lovingly, his bite not nearly as vicious as Alastor’s had been.

“No, my Liege,” you say to wind Alastor up even more, by giving Lucifer more attention and respect than Alastor.

You gasp as you feel cool air suddenly hit your puffy, excited mound as your underwear meets the same fate as your sleepwear, tossed unceremoniously aside.

A rough tongue plunging inside you, you feel immediate sparks from static inside you in his annoyance, making you moan as your inside's spasm, almost like a mild electric shock.

“Already so wet love?” Lucifer comments, his hand hadn’t stopped rubbing his own throbbing need even once.

All you can do is whimper in response before Alastor drags his tongue out and up to your needy clit, rubbing the flat of his tongue over it just once before pulling away, making you whine in protest, feeling empty, desperate in a different way than this morning.

“Ready to apologise yet Dear?” Alastor raises a brow.

“Make me,” you growl back, making both men laugh in delight.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will.” He mutters, his fingers sinking deep inside you, as Lucifer gives attention to your non agitated nipple, his long tongue making you arch your back into his mouth, whining for more.

Alastor’s fingers firmly but slowly rubbing the inner walls of your soaking wet pulsing heat, your hips buck, trying to make him speed up, the tips of his fingers bumping your soft g-spot each time, making you feel frenzied.

Feeling a tentacle wrap around your wrists as Lucifer’s tail releases you, your arms raising above your head are pinned, making you let go of Alastor’s hair, a sound of complaint escapes you.

You do spot Alastor’s wagging tail over his shoulder, making you smirk.

You protest again at not being allowed to touch.

“Touching is for good little pets, not brats who don’t follow the rules,” Alastor growls with a harsh push of his fingers, making that thrust in particular hit your cervix, making you cry out again.

Lucifers tongue and sucking mouth not giving a moments reprieve. His hand a blur on his own length now.

You feel the tightening in your stomach as you get built up on their combined efforts.

Just as you feel yourself about to burst, everything stops, Alastor's fingers stop, and even Lucifer withdraws from your chest, as you open your eyes you see Alastor’s fingers wrapped in Lucifer’s hair, clearly having dragged him off you.

You pant, the flush in your cheeks and mess of your hair from the heat of the moment making you look delightfully debauched, you see Alastor’s arousal through his pyjama trousers, (The annoying deer hadn't even gotten nude yet, much preferring the power dynamics of having both you and Lucifer bare and at his mercy, before indulging you both, only after you are desperate and needy for him).

You whine, arching your back enticingly, trying to make one of them (Lucifer) break, and take pity on you.

“Ah, ah, ah” Alastor says, his smile unchanging, a sting from a slap to your inner thigh, lower than the bite, punishing you again for your obvious attempt at manipulation.

“Say it,” Alastor demands, his claw tips digging in where he left his hand on your trembling inner thigh.

“Please,” you try again, making Alastor laugh and Lucifer to moan.

“Nice try, but you know what I want to hear Dearest,” his voice lowering, static crackling, his eyes darkening to dials again as he teases you by taking over stroking Lucifer, your hands still bound, keeping you from touching either of them.

You growl again in need, frustrated and trying to tug fruitlessly at your restraints... both men of power laugh at the pathetic look in your eyes as Alastor breaks down your resolve.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Louder pet,” Alastor demands with another slap to your thigh, another tentacle taking over to stroke Lucifer for him as Lucifer whines and moans, falling back onto the bed as the tentacle is fast and rough with him, making his hips buck, the sight driving you mad.

“Okay, Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t follow the rules... please, I need you, PLEASE.” you struggle against the tentacle restraining you.

“Lovely,” Alastor praises, the audio stimulation far better than any other so far as you beg him.

His fingers return to your weeping slit and your head throws itself back as he starts thrusting inside you at a much more pleasurable pace than before, as he takes control of both yours and Lucifer’s pleasure simultaneously, working you both to your peaks.

He stops once more, an evil grin on his face, as you both cry out to him, begging for mercy, it’s music to his ears, they twitch in pleasure, as he greedily observes both of your needy swollen throbbing cores.

Slowly he kicks off his own trousers, making sure you’re both looking, before excruciatingly slowly, dragging himself up your body and sinking inside your glistening, soaking wet, boiling heat with uncanny accuracy.

You feel like exploding around him instantly as your tight hole stretches to accommodate the intrusion, you moan and thank him profusely.

His tentacle resumes its torment of Lucifer, as he sharply thrusts his hips inside you once, wanting to hear the melodious cry you always make when he overstimulates you.

Without fail, the keening whine escapes your throat at your heat tightens from the feel of his cock hitting so deeply inside you with a jolt, fuzzy static filling your ears.

“Please Al...” You pant, trying to move your hips, but he stalls you by gripping you tightly, keeping himself fully seated within you for a while longer as he watches Lucifer’s plight.

You look over and Lucifer is certainly a sight to behold.

Flat on his back, moaning, his hips rising and falling with every rub of the tentacle around him, claws cutting through the mattress below him, eyes screwed tightly shut, sweat covering his lovely, unblemished body, cheeks puffed out, wings spread out and crushed below his body, feathers rustling as they tremble.

You feel the return of the blood flow in your arms and your attention is brought back to Alastor as he starts thrusting consistently now, making your head return to the pillows as you scramble for purchase on his back, nails digging in deeply making him groan.

You moan in supplication, needing more, he leans forward kissing you as his hips pump his cock as deep as possible inside you, his hands helping you raise your hips to the correct angle that has you babbling and incoherent and you feel your entire needy sex clenching as his cock nudges your soft spot inside with precision.

Moaning muffled by his mouth, trying to kiss him back, but being quite useless as he uses his body to bully yours into submission, crying out as the feeling is too delicious for words to accurately justify.

“Fuuuuckkk...” feeling more like a doll than a thinking feeling being at this point.

Alastor hums, pleased, and pulls out of you, making you grab at him in panic, tears in your eyes at the thought of being left in such a state... denied pleasure.

He laughs in amusement as he scoops you up, and deposits you on top of Lucifer, who’s tentacle friend had withdrawn as you were dropped onto his lap.

He’s in just as much of a state as you, “H-hello... love,” he manages to pant.

“Mmmmm,” you reply slumping forward over his chest as you feel Alastor behind you, directing Lucifers cock inside your desperation, making you both moan in relief but also cry out at the pain, even with Alastor preparing you Lucifer’s girth still makes you burn, once you get accustomed, you realise your shaking legs are too weak to ride him, and you almost cry again.

Alastor chuckles, and strokes your back, “patience Dear,” he coos.

You moan as you feel wetness between your cheeks, groaning in pleasure as you feel Alastor working your other hole to stretch you in preparation to take them both.

Otherworldly sounds escape you straight into Lucifers mouth this time as he holds your face, kissing you to help you through this.

“So tight love, you’d have thought we’d never done this before,” Lucifer says between kisses and his own noises of pleasure.

You can only whimper as Alastor stretches you with a third finger, thrusting, testing over and over again until he deems you ready.

You cry out once more as you feel the thick head of his cock pop past the tight ring of muscle, that was still quite tight around his own impressive thickness.

“Almost there, Dear heart, you’re doing so well my love.” Alastor praises, his caressing not stopping as he eases inside you, you're panting and gasping not stopping.

Lucifer kissing your face and neck in support as he lets you breathe through this part, leaving your mouth unoccupied, grasping his shoulders tightly.

Finally, Alastor manages to go balls deep within your most private channel, praises and caresses not stopping as your mind and body try to catch up, slowly you calm down enough.

“Good pet,” Alastor praises, you nod your head to indicate he can move.

His hips move in little thrusts this time as Lucifer holds still, getting your body more pliant and used to the feeling again.

Your fingers dig into Lucifers shoulders harder, drawing blood, he doesn’t mind, his own hands are in your hair as he keeps you both steady and still, showering you with love and kisses as Alastor’s on your hips keep you still.

Alastor is currently making you make the sounds that come out of your mouth, music to both their ears... it's the closest they think they’ll ever get to heaven, or back in Lucifer’s case.

Once they both silently agree you’ve had enough care and preparation, they both begin moving in tandem, your volume increasing as you are trapped helplessly between them.

A blur of overwhelming sensation from the two powerful men.

Lucifer thrusting up into you, rubbing every inch inside you and feeling Alastor through the other side of your walls, making him moan as you are stuffed to capacity.

You feel so much heat and tightness, Alastor’s attentions causing slight pain as he speeds up his own thrusting, rolling his hips. Gauging from your sounds, exactly how far to push your limits.

They work your body like a finely tuned instrument, Alastor’s fingers pressing into your hips, like the keys on a piano.

While Lucifer’s fingers start rubbing your clit, strumming like a guitar... or acting as the bow he uses on his fiddle.

Your moaning reaches a crescendo, you cry out as the innumerable sensations overcome your body.

Squirting violently around Lucifers cock, the cries tearing from you becoming so loud that Alastor adjusts the radio with his power accordingly, as Lucifer tries to hush you with his mouth on yours again.

Both of them moaning as your holes grip them both like a vice, it’s so tight Lucifer feels a throb of pain, he can’t move an inch, but it matters not as the sensation of you squirting a torrent right onto his pelvis has his own pulsing reach its limit, as he explodes deep inside you, spurting without even needing to thrust, already buried so deep not a single drop escapes.

Alastor waits patiently for you both to finish, his smile soft, before chasing his own end, using your relaxed body, lifting you by the hips to work his length in and out of you at a speed the isn’t quite painful for you, but enough of a stimulation for him.

He growls as he bites you on the nape of your neck, one last time, his balls drawing up and reaching his inevitable end.

“Mine.”

Alastor pumps his load deep inside you, his hips smoothly thrusting through the transition as his balls empty, making sure to fill you and not waste any of his seed either as you feel the warmth flooding inside you, as he finishes filling you up.

All three of you slump in an exhausted pile on the bed, Alastor’s ears and tail twitching, Lucifers wings rustle, and you... you’re a trembling mess between them spasming at the slightest twitch within you.

Alastor is the first to recover of course and withdraws gently, then proceeds to help pull you off Lucifer, you and the King of Hell both make sounds of protest as Alastor’s swiftness makes your bodies jolt.

Alastor obviously doing so to entertain himself and punish you again for your audacity this morning.

Situating you so that you’re cuddled into Lucifer’s chest, who presses a kiss to the top of your head bringing his arms around you.

Alastor makes a noise of displeasure drawing your attention... “Coffee is cold,” he says in disgust, placing the mug back down, and uses his powers to vanish it and the plate of pancakes, much to Lucifer’s annoyance, but he says nothing, content to have you in his arms.

A hoarse laugh escapes you.

Alastor grumbles, and snuggles back in behind you, spooning you again, a facsimile of when you first woke up, but now you’re all a sweaty mess of tangled nudity, he kisses your temple again, before nuzzling the back of your neck, smelling you.

“Good morning indeed.” You chuckle.

A/N

Please be nice this is my first time🤣💜💜

@lustylita

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #radioapple #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #lucifer hazbin x reader #lucifer hazbin smut #alastor x lucifer x reader #radioapple x reader

120 notes · View notes

luvfy0dor · 2 days

Note

Heyy, I was thinking about a concept with Fyodor (or whoever from BSD) having a streamer bf, but like, one of -those- streamers where every word they say can be quite questionable (in a “good” way/ironically). For some reason it amuses me to imagine it with Fyodor and Reader occasionally teasing him, calling him their ‘discord kitten’ or streaming for 5 hours (or more lol) saying nonsenses or playing video games instead of paying attention to Fyodor. What do you think?

“Get Off The Game ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu

Warnings;

Description; BSD men with a streamer!reader

A/n; these are in headcannon form, I hope that's alright!!! I think Dazai or Nikolai would be a better person to have this occupation w so I also did headcannons for one of them

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor thinks it's stupid at first, but when he realized you made money from it he learned to tolerate it. He wasn't too fond of the noise, though.

• I don't think he was too fond of the nickname 'discord kitten', always raising an eyebrow when he's called that, he also strongly dislikes brainrot cause what do you mean you're so sigma? No you're not, you're y/n. That's unrelated, but I thought I'd add that in there.

• "A discord what? Kitten? What even is that? I am nothing of the such."

• Catch him dead before he makes an appearance on camera, he much prefers to keep his business private. He doesn't mind you talking about him though, he loves that. He loves that people know you're already taken by him and that all those losers in your chat don't have a chance with you.

• Sometimes he'll watch your streams from a different room in attempt to understand your work and the art of gaming. He enjoys when you play horror games, especially the ones that get you thinking. He sometimes finds your facial expressions when you get jumpscared funnier than anything else in the stream.

• When it comes to the duration of your streams, Fyodor can entertain himself for as long as you need him to, but he can't help but feel like he'd rather be spending that time with you every now and again.

• He usually just takes the time to work on his DOA stuff, and occasionally he'll get so lost in it that he doesn't even realized you've finished with your stream and on whenever that happens, you make some tea and go to fetch him to spend some quality time together, whether it's you laying in his lap while you both read a book or having a conversation about whatever comes to mind

Dazai Osamu ★

• Dazai is your #1 supporter since day one. There's a conversation going on about content creators? He's immediately bringing you up. You need new items for your set up? He's manifesting that said items go on sale ASAP!

• Oh my god, and he LOVES it when you get recognized in public. He's very prideful of you and likes that it's only him and a select group of people that get to see the real you outside of the camera frame.

• He, unlike Fyodor, does have an issue with the long hours, so he busies himself with the ADA and otherwise to keep himself from walking in and talking your ear off while you play your games for umpteen thousand people.

• He doesn't despise being called a discord kitten, but it does confuse him a little bit. But whatever, as long as you have 'my' in front of any name he doesn't care.

• Dazai watches your old streams when he's bored and can't help but giggle at the out of pocket or questionable things you say. He likes to watch the compilations of you on YouTube, too.

• Sometimes he'll quote you out of the blue.

• He doesn't like people trying to flirt with you or talk to you on the Internet as any partner wouldn't, so he is in the comment section of every post reading through individual comments. Type guy to see '❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥' comments on your posts and reply '🧯🧯🧯'

• All in all, Dazai is well received by your fanbase, especially the ones who don't try to romance you and are normal. They think he's funny and a good match for you.

A/n; I hope it wasn't to short!!! I thought it was a cutsey idea, I think Nikolai would be pretty similar to Dazai in this scemario.

128 notes · View notes

fangsandfracturedhearts · 3 days

Text

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 15: Reclamation

Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.

Word Count: 6.6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

A maelstrom of emotions dithers over the union you share. He seems unsure of what exactly he should be feeling as it fluctuates between fear, doubt, and bewilderment in a tumultuous outburst. His thoughts are akin to walking on the dark side of the moon - frigid, wilful in their grip on him with an undecipherable sapidity.

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head, eyes bouncing around as his brows pinch, creasing his forehead. His voice is detached and reticent, a masterpiece of regret and dolour. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, surely. Would I? Hells below. Did I?”

“You must have,” you conclude, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I don’t remember you doing it, but I can’t hear or remember it.”

Astarion jumps to his feet, nearly pitching you off his lap in haste, but he grabs you at the last minute, dragging you up with him. He pulls his trousers up but leaves them loose as he paces fitfully, muttering and mumbling to himself and wracking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t understand,” he utters, half to himself and half to you. “I just do not understand. Why would I do such a thing? How long ago did I do this? What the fuck is wrong with me?”

It’s not your fault.

“I think it was before I…” you trail off, squeezing your eyes closed at the memory of Astarion stalking you through the Crimson Palace hallways like a predator, caustic venom spitting from his lips, every word eating away at your soul.

“Left me,” Astarion finishes with a note of despair, like a cold hand laid upon your bare soul. “You can say it.”

You nod sullenly, dropping your head, deject and wayward.

His emotions are flickering through your mind and body like a kaleidoscope of lightning strikes, each blinding flash incomprehensible in its intensity. You focus, but Astarion stops dead as you try to catch and hold them, and the connection is severed.

You are once again empty, a barren midnight sky that’s misplaced the stars and moon. Your eyes snap to Astarion, but the scarlet of his eyes looks hollow with madness as he regards you with the wariness of a wounded animal. He looks at you like he doesn’t know who you are, and it sends a wave of alarm coursing through you, causing your palms to heat.

He retrieves his shirt from the floor, always keeping a close eye on you as if you might pounce. He’s unreadable and cold, the iron countenance of the Vampire Ascendant shrouding him like an icebound veil. Without a word, Astarion darts out of your room, descending the stairs at a whirlwind pace that would be perilous for anyone who wasn’t so agile.

“Astarion?” In confusion, you chase after him without much thought, nearly tumbling down the stairs, and grab his arm. “Where are you going?”

He rips his arm out of your clutches with a bestial snarl. “Don’t touch me!”

“Just wait,” you plead with him, casting Misty Step and blocking his trajectory to the door. You can’t make heads or tails of this shift. “Please. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”

“You can’t help me.”

Astarion tries to get around you, but you won’t secede any ground and hold your position with foolish defiance. He grabs your arm, pivots, and thrusts you backward, throwing you to the floor. When you look up at him, those crimson eyes are starting to flick and fade like a star in the throes of death.

“Do not try and stop me again,” he growls, taking stalking steps toward you with a choler tinge in his voice. “Bad, pet.”

Astarion laughs, leans down, and grabs your ankle. He squeezes until the bones are wailing and threatening to break under duress. You whimper, beseeching cries for amnesty, trying to crawl away.

“Master, stop! Please.” You barely recognize the word as it jumps off your tongue in your agony. The haunting palette of bruising is immediately stained on the ghostly white canvas of your skin.

His grip is suddenly snapped away, and he springs back, grabbing his head with a pained groan, shaking it from side to side furiously as he roots himself in place. His breath falters as his eyes meet yours with a hysterical acidity as their claret shifts from deep and warm to shoal and dull as if covered by a thick layer of dust.

“Sorry,” he totters unsteadily on his feet, his lips parting with erratic breaths that make his chest jump aperiodically. His heart beats so hard in his chest that the sound is almost ear-splitting. “Hells. I’m so sorry. I— I— must go.”

Astarion does not even close the door in his urgency, and you’re left naked, clutching your ankle on the floor, staring into the street with your mouth agape. You cast Telekinesis to throw the door closed and limp around the manor, closing the heavy drapes to block the sun.

“Fuck!” You scream at the emptiness surrounding you as you pull yourself up the stairs on your lame ankle.

As you bathe, you allow your body to submerge into the spacious tub. You force yourself to forgo the useless impulse to breathe the air you no longer require and sink. The water’s surface contorts above you like an uneven mirror, twisting and warping reality. Everything is falling apart, and you feel like the sand of a beach being dragged away piece by piece with every crash of another wave upon the shore of your life.

Your heart would be beating recklessly in your chest if you hadn’t been alleviated of life. Colourful promises of love and breaths of forever in a realm of temporary fill your eyes with tears that seep into the water. Time stands still, and your doubt settles and masks your bravery. You’re one step closer to losing him entirely, but you must be fearless. Neither you nor Astarion can afford for you to fall.

Closing your eyes, you run headfirst into memories, searching your soul for all the places that feel like home.

The thudding of boots, the drip of rain that sneaks through the fissures in the bricks, the skittering and squeaking of vermin — everything echos off the stone in Moonrise. The fire throws foreboding, eerie shadows in slinking shapes across your tent that make you uneasy. No one wanted to camp here for the night, with the Absolute Cultists only floors below, but it had been a long journey through the Shadowlands, and the hungry shade had sapped everyone’s strength.

You flop restlessly on the furs in your tent, unable to trance. You had been counting the cultists inhabiting this wretched place as you made your rounds, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout. The omen of the arduous battle hangs over you, and you’re trying to devise some semblance of a plan to wipe them out in stages. You were never a very strategic planner. Typically, showing up and raining fire, violence, and death have worked for most of your life. Even with the help of the Harpers, one mistake could spell disaster.

Your ears twitch as you hear the rumbling murmurs bounce off the walls, and you’re out of your tent in a blink with fire ablaze in your palm, fearing the cultists have figured out that you don’t fit within their ranks. Taking a lap around, you take a quick headcount, checking your friends off one by one until you hear a soft, breathy whimpering.

Astarion…

Crouching by his tent, you whisper his name, but he does not answer. You recognize a nightmare when you hear one, and your hurt lurches in your chest, fingers hovering just over the door of his tent, but you don’t open it. Your proximity is usually enough to calm him without waking him, and this time seems no different. The trashing has stopped, and his muttering has ceased.

You sigh, relieved, and lay down at the door, curling up on the hard stone. You will rest here tonight if it means you can bring him even a scrap of peaceful rest.

“Darling,” Astarion purrs in a rugged timbre, heavy under the weight of drowsiness. “Whatever are you doing?”

You smile and flop over to peer into the hypnotic, heavily-lidded eyes. Astarion yawns, fangs peeking from his lips, and grins back at you.

“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, making sure to keep your voice down so it doesn’t wake the others. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here tonight.”

“You were going to sleep out here on the stone?” He cocks his head, quirking a brow at you. “Why?”

“It seemed to comfort you,” you shrug.

"I meant, why would you sleep out here when there's a perfectly good bedroll in my tent with me?”

“Oh,” you say, sitting upright with a jolt. “That’s okay, Astarion. Really. I’m perfectly fine out here.”

“Get in here, weirdo," Astarion giggles, grabbing your arm and giving it a gentle tug.

You hesitate, but he tows you harder, and eventually, you relent and crawl into his tent. You sit in the corner, trying to make yourself small, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Astarion huffs exasperatedly, “You do realize that we’ve had sex, yes? You were hardly shy during our little late-night expeditions.”

“I’m not shy, not with you,” you giggle but avidly watch how Astarion’s jaw clenches, fingers tangling into the furs. “You’re hungry. I can see it. I can’t imagine it’s comfortable to be so close to a food source in a confined space.”

“I’ll admit, it’s not easy when you’re so very delicious with that lovely neck, begging to be tasted,” he grins, an artificial smile meant to put you at ease. Astarion notices that he cannot fool you, and his fingers rifle through his hair. “I’m fine. Truly. You’re not in any danger around me. I can control my hunger.”

“Danger? Oh, Gods! No, Astarion.” You shake your head at him, offering your hand, and he takes it. His thumb sways softly over the back, “I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. When’s the last time you fed?”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. There was that cultist I made a snack of a couple of days ago. You needn’t concern yourself with it. I’ve gone much, much longer without a meal.”

There’s a bleakness shading the sculpted angles of his face that makes your heart palpate with empathy. You don’t have to ask for confirmation. Cazador obviously starved him as some form of punishment. It makes your palms heat in reflex as you seethe. You don’t care what it takes. You are going to kill the motherfucker who dared torture this man that’s stolen your heart.

“Astarion, whenever you’re hungry, I’m happy to offer my neck. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s very… sweet, but the very shadows of this place are hungry.” Astarion sighs, wrapping his arms around his waist to smother his hunger pains. He smiles, “As much as I would absolutely love to take you here and now, you need your strength. We have many battles ahead.”

“Don’t be dumb," you tut, moving your hair away from your neck. “I need you strong. I am capable of deciding this for myself. I don’t need you to do it for me.”

“Dumb? Darling! You wound me.” He theatrically scoffs, hand to his forehead, falling back as if you slapped him, with a shallow chuckle, “I have received many slights in my life - Insufferable, insolent, insignificant, but this might be the first time I have been accused of being dumb.”

“Well, they say there’s a first time for everything,” you smirk, levity uplifting the lilt of your baritone. “Consider this your first.”

“You are racking up quite the catalogue of firsts,” he chuckles, shaking his head, propping himself up on his elbows. “Are you sure? I am truly of sound mind. No one is in any danger.”

You crawl toward him, heart rate accelerating with every forward movement of your hands and knees, “Will you please shut up and bite me already? Before I berate you for believing I think you’re a danger.”

Astarion’s hand wraps around your arm, persuading you closer with pressure, but he does not so much as glance at your exposed neck. He’s fixed on your eyes as if he’s found heaven hidden within them.

“Then allow us to dine together,” he nods slowly, eyes still moored to yours as he sits upright, prompts you to turn, and holds your back steady against his chest. He kisses under your earlobe and hints his lips down the column of your neck until he settles on that rhythmically pumping vein. He kisses it, long and lingering, and groans, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you sigh, barely able to contain your body’s excitement as it trembles in his arms.

His fangs puncture your skin like icicles, impaling the soft flesh, but it ebbs and dulls to a paradisical strumming before your mind has time to react and withdraw. For a vampire that has not fed on thinking creatures much, he’s remarkably gentle and has only become more tender since you started these little meals. He draws from you in unhurried pulls, tallied and modulated as he listens, and his palm splays across your chest over your heart to determine its pace in case he does not hear it accurately.

You feel your ethos skimming through his veins, warming his skin, flushing the tips of his ears, an antidote to his pain. You sigh mellowly, and your fingers untwist from his trousers, going lax. His arousal hardens against your back as he removes his fangs from your neck, tongue lavishing at the residual weeping wounds with broad, flat strokes and moaning a chilled breath over the shell of your ear.

Astarion turns your head toward him, catching your lips in a blistering kiss tinged with the coppery piquancy of your blood. His hips buck into you with a growl, and his hand veers toward your aching clit. You stop him short, grabbing his hand with a shudder.

“What are you doing?” You breathe against the needy, silken embrace of his mouth.

“You’ve been ever so generous,” he purrs. “Allow me to repay your charity in a language I speak proficiently.”

“No,” you break away from the kiss and his arms. Your head swims, bloodless and faint. Your heart hammers, trying to pump the blood no longer within your veins. You sway on your knees, and Astarion supports you with a hand on your shoulder lest you faceplant, “This isn’t a tit-for-tat offer, Astarion. There is no repayment. I am just one friend assisting another. That’s all.”

“I— You don’t want me?”

His genuine confusion encases your heart in a boiling bubble of sorrow, “You know I do, but not like this. I don’t want you if it’s compensation for my blood.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the only thing I know,” he looks bashful. If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s blushing, but that must be the rush of your blood through his veins. “Would you at least rest with me tonight while you're woozy? I will hear if anything untoward happens in camp, and I can protect both of us if need be.” He puts his hands up innocently, “I will keep my hands to myself. You have my word.”

“Do you think--" you trail off, bringing your hand to your forehead that seems to beat in time with your angry heart and groan. “That is to say— Could we —“

“Good Gods, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Spit it out already before you lose consciousness. I did not take that much.”

Your arms drop by your sides, and you giggle with him, suddenly lethargic, “Never mind. I’ll sleep over here.”

“Now, who is being positively dumb,” he scoffs, clicking his tongue at you. “If you want to cuddle, you have but to ask. You know I do rather like cuddling with you.”

“If you know what I want,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Why are you making a spectacle out of me?!”

“Entertainment,” he shrugs, laughing carefree and alight with humour.

“You’re terrible,” you mutter.

“I know,” he smirks, lying back and extending his arms, twitching his fingers in the come-hither motion. “Come on, love. Let’s have a cuddle, shall we?”

The bath water has turned cold by the time your eyes slide back open. You’re still lying at the bottom of the tub, in a watery grave like a sunken ship. How long have you been in here? Once your brain recognizes that you haven’t taken a breath in what could be hours, instinct takes over, and you propel yourself upright, coughing, sputtering, and gulping down the air furiously.

You scoff at yourself with antipathy. How long will it take for these responses to abate? When will your body just accept that you’re fucking dead?

Wrapping a plush towel around yourself, you listen for the comforting thud of Astarion’s heart but are only met with tomblike silence. It frightens you, making your stomach feel aflutter in your abdomen, reminding you of the Gur attack when you thought you lost him.

You slip into a long-sleeved, purple dress and tentatively peek outside. The velveteen embrace of twilight has cloaked the sky, but the cloud cover is thick, eclipsing the moonlight. You can smell the rain before the heavens have decided to cry. Reaching out to the bond, Astarion does not answer your call.

Fuck this.

You trot through the street, smelling the air. You wince with every step as the injury to your ankle smarts, but the bruising is already receding. It will not be long until it’s healed.

Unfortunately for you, the streets are still relatively busy, and your bloodlust is ever-present and a daunting task to control as you swerve and juke around people. Your mouth waters, and you shake your head like a wet dog to rid yourself of the smog that dampens and threatens to dwarf your self-restraint. The rain starts to drizzle, just as you predicted. The drops plane down your face, and you curse the skies because the scent of the rainfall on the dry stone of the street hampers your ability to detect much else.

You arrive at Wyrm's Crossing and follow the strong scent of blood outside a structure you are familiar with - the flophouse where Astarion's siblings were. The building is ominously dark and far too quiet. You sniff the air. It tastes almost bitter on your tongue, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the metallic richness, but you vaguely make out notes of rosemary and bergamot. You try to open the door, but it’s locked. Locks are hardly a challenge. You cast Knock and crack the door open. The fragrance of blood wafts so thickly in the air that you swear you almost see technicolour as you swoon.

It’s pitch-black inside, and your feet immediately come into contact with a stiff, cold mass on the floor, tripping you. Fire bursts to life in your palm, and mutilated bodies greet the illumination with milky eyes. Some have their intestines spilling out of their abdomens like gooey red ribbons. Others are missing the bottom of their jaw with their meaty tongues lolling out. These people were not just merely killed. They were brutalized, mutilated, and mauled.

A thick slick of congealing blood sloshes around your boots. It drips off the ceiling and down the walls like scarlet raindrops shed from dark skies, softly signifying sorrow's sharp sting. If your heart had not already hardened to macabre scenes like this, you imagine you would be sick. Instead, true to the monster you’ve become, it takes considerable effort not to drop to your knees and start lapping up the sanguine nectar like some thirsty mutt.

You are veritably shaking under the duress of temptation as you crawl over bodies to the one heartbeat that remains. Astarion sits at a table in an alcove in the back with a bottle of spirits clutched in his hand, several more littered around his feet on the floor. He stares abstractly at nothing, a million miles away, bleak and cold.

“Astarion…” you whisper, trying to get a decent look into his eyes.

“Darling?” His brows round when he looks at you, frowning and narrowing his glossy eyes. “You are afraid. Oh, no-no. Don’t be afraid. I didn’t mean to…” He’s confused, and it breaks your heart. “I killed them all, but I don’t remember. I am me now. I’m me - Astarion.”

“I know,” you purr, noticing that he seems to have to remind himself of who he is. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” He scoffs, bringing the bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. He sways in his chair, causing it to creak, “This is about as far from okay as it gets. Did you not hear me? I killed them. I killed all of them.”

“I heard you,” you cradle his cheek and walk his gaze away from the body he seems fixed on. “We need to go home, Astarion. Before somebody finds us here.”

“Why?” He snaps, gesturing around with a satirical chuckle, “I will probably just kill them too. Or perhaps I will simply compel them to forget their names or their entire lives. Why stop there? How far do you think my power goes? Do you think I could compel them to forget how to breathe?”

“Astarion, please,” you slip the bottle from his fingers and crouch with your hand on his thigh. “Come with me.”

“I hurt you again today,” he sighs, staring at his empty hand with furrowed brows. “How do you sleep with me in the same residence? The same bed? How can you even stand to look at me? Gods. You must fucking hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you cannot help the tears pricking your eyes. He looks lost as his eyes roam aimlessly, climbing toward the ceiling. “I love you.”

“You love me… Do you regret it?” He whispers, curling his empty hand into a fist repeatedly as if he’s unsure if the hand he’s looking at belongs to him, “Helping me complete the Rite, allowing me to turn you, falling in love with me.”

“No,” your answer is immediate, and the uncompromising intonation surprises even you. “The only thing I regret is that we did not know enough about the Rite.”

“You’re lying,” he concludes, hollow, distant, and abject.

“Open the bond and check my truthfulness if you wish,” you retort. Your whole body shakes as you try to make sense of this broken man before you, “I wanted to be with you for eternity. Everything has a cost. I paid it willingly.”

“Do you know why I turned you?” He asks, face contorting with an anguish you did not believe you would ever see adorn his features again. The corners of his mouth are downturned, eyebrows dropping at the ends, “Do you know why I was so adamant that this was the only way our relationship could continue?”

“I don’t know, Astarion,” you sigh soft and sullen. “I don’t care. What’s done is done.”

“Tell me!” He snarls, slamming his fist into the table and cracking it down the middle, “Tell me why you think I did it! Tell me why you think I fucking killed you!”

You finally relent and sob openly. “Why do you do anything now, Astarion? You wanted to possess me, control me, own me, and make me your obedient puppet.”

“No, my love,” he heaves a tremulous sigh, shaking his head. His eyes are vacant and unseeing, blinking slowly. “Nothing so sinister as that. I was afraid. I was still fucking afraid. I knew you would age and die while I remained the same forever. You would leave me alone again, and I feared a world, a life, without you. I took your life and bound you to me for eternity for no other reason than selfishness, but I always was remarkably selfish. Wasn’t I?” Astarion gazes around at the grisly affair of his making, “Why can’t I remember? I am sick. Aren’t I?”

“We will save you,” you slip your finger under his chin like he’s done to you so often and direct his gaze to yours. Your eyes blister with resolve, and your voice bleeds the same, trying to fill him with strength, “But I need you to keep fighting, Astarion. You must not give up.”

“For you,” he murmurs as his eyes finally appear cognizant. Astarion slides out of his chair, descending to his knees before you like you made you do a lifetime ago, and wraps his arms around you. He presses his cheek against your stomach and whimpers, fingers curling into your clothes. “I will fight to my last, my love.”

Sunlight filters into the window, golden rays bathing the room as your eyes flutter open. You nuzzle against the silk pillowcase before your mind bombards you with memories of your skin loosening, dripping, cracking, and the agony that arrested even screams from your throat. You nearly leap off the bed in terror, but solid arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back against the strong muscles of a warm chest.

“It’s okay,” Astarion purrs, grappling with your trashing. He places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “I am here. The sun cannot harm you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

It takes your still hazy consciousness a moment to accept the promise of safety before you relax in his embrace with a sigh and roll over to face Astarion, looping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. You can smell his blood pumping through his veins just below the surface of that pristine, silken skin, and your mouth waters. Your body urges you to bite, stomach knotting into cramps with the promise of that aromatic, richly decadent blood.

So close.

Before you know what you’re doing, your mouth is open, fangs hovering, and your body seizes. Astarion laughs genuinely, such a sparkling, airy rumble from his perfect lips as they pull into a smile against your cheek.

“Well, good morning to you, too.” He giggles, pushing you away, shaking his head with that playful glower, “Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised.” Astarion sinks his fangs into the fanning veins of his wrist and holds it out to you. “Remember, no biting and mind your teeth.”

You’re almost drooling at the oneiric vision of the weeping wounds. The scent of his blood is intoxicating - warm, full-bodied ferrous. The bright red drink of the Gods is a stark contrast to his pale skin, and it takes everything you have in you not to lunge for it. The offer of his blood is new and a little unsettling if you’re being honest.

“Go ahead,” his eyes dart to his dribbling wrist, brows furrowing at your hesitation. “This is no trick. Feed.”

He looks contrite, but there is a new tenderness in the way his eyes are fixed on you like you are shelter from the storm brewing behind his scarlet irises. You cannot handle it any longer. You take his wrist as gently as your fumbling fingers can possibly manage in your near frenzied bloodlust, bringing your lips to the wound. It tastes even better straight from his body, and your eyes roll back with a moan as you focus with a substantial amount of effort on drawing in slow, measured sips instead of trying to drain him dry in an instant.

“That’s enough,” Astarion instructs eventually, tugging his wrist just slightly. You could never get enough of this ambrosia on your tongue, descending into your stomach and making your nerves combust with delight. Your grip tightens on his wrist, and you growl at him, low and throaty.

“Hells,” Astarion groans pleasurably, eyes rolling back. His body trembles with excitement and pleasure. He enjoys this as much as you. He shakes his arm roughly and commands a little more harshly this time. “Love. I said that’s enough. Don’t be a greedy thing now.”

It’s enough to crack the haze that’s fallen over your mind, and you throw yourself from back, detaching from his wrist with panicked breaths. You’re sure when you look at him again, you will be staring at the embodiment of Mephistopheles psychosis, “I’m sorry, Astarion. I’m sorry.”

“Hey-hey,” Astarion coos deeply, like a warm auditory hug on a cold winter’s night. “It’s alright. I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?” You cannot help the stain of surprise that blooms in your voice.

“No, love,” he chuckles, his fingers pressing into your waist, encouraging you to cuddle, and you curl up against his side. He sweeps his thumb across your lower lip, gathering the blood smeared on it and pops it into his mouth with a sly grin. “I was a young vampire too, once upon a century, and I was certainly over-enthusiastic with my consumption of you the first time. It takes time. I can help you with it. We can practice like this.”

Your brows furrow, creasing as you try to think through the residual film of mist. This man is entirely too perplexing. It feels like you’re always trying to run from him, convincing yourself that everything is a trick, that you must be on guard at all times so you don’t get close, but is this just a way for you to hide from what you fear most of all - that you will be unable to save him, and you will lose him all over again.

There’s just no fucking time for this anymore. There is no more time to lose.

Astarion directs your gaze to him, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind?”

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

Astarion’s brows round, and the corners of his eyes crinkle, “Yes.”

“Was any of it real?” You murmur, pushing yourself upright so you can look at him. You request the bond, and Astarion and you unite, transcending time and space, melding together. It takes you a moment to gather yourself, “Or were you just drunk?”

“I meant every word.” Astarion turns suddenly serious, sitting and sagging against the headboard, “I wish to speak to you about something.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am fine.” He combs his fingers through his hair, “You called me Master. I do not wish you to call me that - think of me in those terms. Is that how you see me? As your… ugh,” he casts his eyes to the ceiling, “Master ?”

“No,” you snap, but it’s a lie, and you know it, which means he knows it through the union. You backpedal, “Yes. It is what you are, Astarion. Whether you or I like it, I am your spawn, and you are my master. This is just reality. It will do us no good to pretend that the dynamic of our relationship is different.”

Disappointment slashes across the bond like a blade cutting into your heart. It’s so strong that it physically aches in your chest, and you splay your hand across it and whimper.

Astarion shakes his head, eyes downcast, “I do not want to be your master, little love. I never did. I did not make you a regular spawn.”

“I’m not sure I follow, Astarion. What do you mean you didn’t make me a regular spawn? What other kind of spawn is there?”

Astarion squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, taking a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He leans, opens a drawer and produces a book that looks ancient. Its cover is dulled by timeless centuries, and its spine is broken with loose pages precariously tucked in. His fingers tap the book, staring at it as if he dreads what he’s about to do.

He gives you a skeptical sideways look and passes you the book, “Page 152.”

Opening the book, you flip through the musty, yellowed pages until you reach page 152, titled “The Dark Kiss.” You scan the page, reading it once, twice, three times while Astarion stares at you with an unreadable expression. You can feel him in your head, looking through your eyes, thrusting into the folds of your mind, penetrating the softness of your soul, caressing your most intimate thoughts.

There’s trepidation in him. Your soul practically quivers under the weight of his unease. He is afraid of your reaction, and the entity within him is stoking those glowing embers of worry with its babbling breaths of affirmations, trying to ignite an inferno of fear that will melt through the shackles of his control.

“You need to explain this to me, Astarion,” you gawk at him, swallowing thickly as the information slowly sinks in. You’re unsure if the nervousness making your stomach warp is truly yours or his.

“I made you my bride – consort,” he does not look at you when he speaks. His eyes stare blankly at his twitching fingers. “How many times did I bite you that night?”

“Uh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to recall the memory fogged over from blood loss, “Three. Once when we had sex, once on my wrist, and then my neck.”

Astarion nods, “I don’t remember much from that night, high as I was on the power of 7000 souls, but I do recall my intent. I bit you three times, as described in the book you’re holding, and then gave you my own blood. I told you this bond was unique to you and me because it’s only shared with a bride.”

“I’m sorry.” You rack your fingers through your hair, tousling it into an incomprehensible mess to match your whirling, tangled thoughts, “Are you trying to tell me that we are - what? Vampire married?”

Astarion smirks at the bewilderment adorning your face but looks bashful, “I suppose that’s an accurate description, yes.”

“And you declined to tell me this until now because?”

“Honestly?” Astarion’s eyes drift once again to the ceiling, “I meant to. I had every intention of telling you the truth, and then... I enjoyed the power, the superiority I had over you. I saw fear in your eyes when you looked at me, and I liked it. I liked you believing you were nothing. I wanted to revel in it. It fed the sickness within, and then I was... lost for a while.”

“What does this mean for me exactly?” It takes incredible effort to keep the rising panic from your voice.

Astarion’s eyes widen as your whirlwind of terror is added to the mixture of emotions between you, “It means you’re not quite a spawn, not quite a True Vampire, but as close as one could get while still being bound to me and under my control should I choose to exert it over you. I believe it can be reversed, should you wish it so. I’d have to do a little research--”

“No!” you blurt out in a yelping retort that makes Astarion flinch. He assumes your anxiety is due to being bound to him in such a way, you realize. The truth of it is your panic is a shadow looming over the increasingly dire odds of everything you stand to lose.

A friend. A lover. A partner. A... husband?

You smirk at the notion, pushing away that worry - you have time to worry later. Right now, you want to enjoy this. It’s the closest you have gotten to Astarion telling you he loves you. Perhaps, the closest you will ever get, and some sad speck of your soul laps at that wound and dabs it with this new information as if it might cure the incurable.

“Well,” you shift into his lap, leaning into the asylum he’s promising you through the bond, “I’m definitely going to start calling you husband now. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“HA!” Astarion giggles, shaking his head with an endearingly lop-sided grin. His unkempt silver curls fall and bounce carelessly, “But of course. I can deny you nothing, wife. I wish to try and undo what he,” he corrects himself. “…I did - your name. I might be able to reverse it, but I’m not entirely sure how. You need to trust me, and I can feel you do not.”

You’re a little bemused that there is something Astarion doesn’t know how to do, and you grin at him, your fangs peeking out of your lips.

“Good Gods,” he rolls his eyes at you with a heartwarming smirk. “I am all-powerful, not all-knowing. Compelling is instinctive. Releasing it is another story entirely.”

You want to trust him. Gods above, you long to trust him like you used to, but how can you, given what you know? You wrench on the tide of the bond, causing it to spill and break over you as ocean waves crash upon boulders that dare protrude from its surface. You scour the chords of the harmony, picking them apart note by note, feeling for any sign of manipulation, deceit, or ill intent. Astarion flinches, squeezing his eyes shut with a wheeze, but he does not attempt to stop your search. You find nothing, but then again, he is the Vampire Ascendant. If he wants to hide something from you, he will.

If you want to get your name back, you have little choice.

“Do it,” you confirm.

“Look into my eyes,” Astarion purrs in a deep baritone. “Remember, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”

Bringing your eyes to his, the crimson in his eyes sparks alive, like little matches aglow in the red sea, and you have never seen sparks quite so beautiful.

The sensation starts mellow, like the flow of a calm spring, as it trickles through your mind. It feels like liquid fingers whispering against your psyche. The sensation makes your skin prickle, and goosebumps erupt all over. You want to shudder, but your body cannot move. Tributaries branch off and stream until your whole brain feels like it is being grasped by a hand.

And that’s where the pain begins in a sudden influx, a steely, jarring stab, and it feels like his fingers are in your brain, parting every crimp, crease, bend and wrinkle like you are a tome to be read. You’re unsure how long you can take this as he picks your mind apart, looking for whatever compulsion does. You manage to let out a whine, and his eyes flick.

“I know it hurts,” he soothes. “Just a little more, I think. Can you hold on?”

You can only whimper your response. You’re not sure if it sounds like a no or a yes. He continues his dismantling forage, ferreting around in your mind. Suddenly, something changes. All those tributaries and calm, flowing springs snap into one spot, and white-hot pain blooms in your eyesight, blinding you. You’re positive he’s cutting a piece of brain matter right out of your skull. You want to writhe, to scream, to beg him to stop, but you cannot.

You wonder if you might pass out, and then you hope you pass out as the pain becomes more than you can bear. Sharp, like a red-hot blade, has punctured your skull, pierced your brain, and is now broiling against your grey matter. Your vision starts to tunnel, black borders encroaching, blurring everything but the glow from Astarion’s eyes.

Just as you think you're going to lose consciousness, a knot untangles, an invisible barrier crumples, and the bondage on your body eases.

“Hey,” Astarion jostles you, fingers brushing sweaty strands of hair behind your ear. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you breathe shakily. “It’s fine. Did it work?”

“I think so?” Astarion rubs the back of his head. “There’s only one way to know for sure. Do you remember your name?”

You think hard, trying to pull it from the deepest recesses of your memories, but you can’t remember it. “No.” You sigh, “Can you say it to me?”

“Illyria?”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, please enjoy ☺️

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

Yay! Tav can hear her name, but does she actually remember it?

I'm leaning into the "Dark Kiss" bride/consort theory because why not?

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion x oc #astarion x named tav #fangs and fractured hearts

80 notes · View notes

dootznbootz · 3 days

Note

that WHO in no longer u oh my GOD

YESSSS

Like, yeah, Odysseus is like "Yandere" (joking but also not) because kills all who even go near Penelope and Telemachus and he's very protective of them AND jealous.

But I think this "WHO?!" is also a desperate plea as to who is this dangerous man who is near his wife? A warlord? A conquerer? A man who would not even care about Penelope for who she is and mistreats her?

Because even in the Odyssey, Odysseus asks about Penelope to his mother.

Tell me of the wife I married. What are her thoughts and plans? Is she still there with our son, keeping watch on everything? Or has she been married to the finest of Achaeans?

(Book 11, Johnston)

There's not even much resentment in his question. There could be but Narrator does not say. The use of "the finest of Achaeans" almost is a "Did she at least marry the best man? Did she at least marry a GOOD man?"

In "No Longer You", when he hears of this dangerous man NEAR his wife, he is SCARED. It could be jealousy but I feel it's more of concern. As it is in the Odyssey.

"I understand if she would remarry, it pains me but I did tell her that when Telemachus finally grows his beard, she could. I will love her always but is she at least happy? Is she safe?"

And she's not safe. She's not happy. He is terrified.

Psst. The reason why My Odysseus takes a long time to grow his beard is because of that line. He's hoping that his son will take after him and take forever to grow a beard like he did (as he doesn't really have one even when he first leaves for Troy) because he would try forever to get home. Penelope even teases him that he still doesn't have one so that's a silly request and that's the point. "I will never stop trying to come back to you. He and I will likely remain beardless forever." (it's a little funky for him when he finally grows one by the end of Troy. He's thinking "...Shit. Telemachus, stay baby-faced for your dad please.")

ANYWAYS.

I mean we all know that these two are obsessed with each other in the Odyssey and in Epic. They are likeminded and are so integral to who they are. They mean everything to one another. I think Odysseus genuinely does want Penelope happy. As even in the Odyssey with him simply asking for another bed, shows how much he loves and respects her. He could've been like "get in it" even though she had rejected him at first but he LISTENS BECAUSE HE LOVES HER. Only breaking down into a sobbing mess when he believes she destroyed their bed.

"Heaven made you as you are, but for sheer obstinacy you put all the rest of your sex in the shade. No other wife could have steeled herself to keep so long out of the arms of a husband she had just got back after nineteen years of misadventure. Well, nurse, make a bed for me to sleep alone in. For my wife's heart is just about as hard as iron."

(Book 23, Rieu)

Please note that this is his attempt to insult her in a way and yet he still talks about her being from Heaven 👀 SIMP

But even though he's deeply hurt by her rejection (poor guy would've probably sobbed himself to sleep) He still asks for another bed. After sleeping on the floor and in the dirt since he's been on Ithaca, refusing beds unless it's his own marriage bed, he takes her 'no' because he values her happiness and comfort over his own. He takes a lesser bed so she can still sleep in their own luxurious one.

I mean we know how fucking awful the suitors are. Hold Them Down is a disturbing song. (as it should be. As they are not good men) He does not even know how bad these men are yet. If his future self could speak with his past self, he'd probably be like "Yeah, don't worry about the guy who kills a bunch of people, they had it coming. ;) " or something.

That "WHO?!" is a mix of jealousy AND fear.

#I'm sorry y'all I'm so exhausted as I've had a lot of shit happen and oof #so this is messy but I hope I got my point across lol #epic the musical #epic the underworld saga #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #no longer you #my headcanons #ask #anon #penelope #odysseus #odypen #essay

93 notes · View notes

hoegender · 2 days

Text

BREAKING: the most toxic duo is currently rotting your brain and you need to see more of them NOW!

keep reading for my very incoherent thoughts about these two

i'm crying idk why i'm so attached to ginkir suddenly but they are currently my guilty pleasure brainrot. i know gin is so so so toxic to kir (and to everyone else. what's new) but i don't ship them in the "i want them to fall in love and kiss" way i need them in the "gin is strangely and inexplicably obsessed with kir and the series will end with kir killing him with his own gun" way (incoming spoilers for movies 20 and 26 + the kir arc/the shuichi akai special collection)

i'm probably reaching with this but bear with me. gin is an impulsive, violent man. his first instinct when faced with anything is to take out his gun and shoot. he's shot kir multiple times - in the darkest nightmare, when she and bourbon were chained to a pole for being on the NOC list, then in black iron submarine, when she was standing in between gin and the eur•p•l agent he wanted dead. OKAY. but he's never shot her with the intent of killing her AND I KNOW THAT'S A LOW BAR BUT BEAR WITH ME.

gin kills as a safeguard!! he killed akemi because of her relationship with an fb! agent and she'd become a liability. he wants to kill haibara because she escaped and is a liability. but after kir gets literally captured by the fb! AND is suspected to be a NOC, gin doesn't...gaf?? gin goes through so much trouble to get her back alive when he could've just blown up all the fbi vans and gotten rid of not only kir, who may have become a liability at this point, but also a bunch of fb! agents to snipe their manpower?? ok gin

"she's an absolute beast when she's cornered" ok gin. ok. is it also because she's the only woman apart from vermouth who dares to manhandle you. is that it. ok gin. i'm nowhere near done with this quote yet i fear i've truly lost my mind. gin is so clearly impressed by the lie she told him about brutally murdering the c!a agents but from what he actually sees of her firsthand he knows she's doesn't like to kill. he literally has to keep telling her "don't hesitate". gin's not dumb! he should have caught on to her lie by now! he should already know in his BONES that kir is a NOC! AND SHE'S STILL ALIVE?? ok gin

the close-up shot of kir's hand on gin's in black iron submarine as she stops him from pulling the lever. people d!ed (me). on a side note i feel like i understand gin on a whole new level after these revelations. i mean have you seen kir

to conclude i think gin is really, really strangely tolerant of kir and i love thinking about him having some sort of weird confused one-sided obsession with her that he doesn't know how to express apart from doing what he always does and holding her at gunpoint. i want this series to end with kir shooting him dead because YES i know gin's true long-established rival (cough 恋人 cough) and the one who will probably actually do him in is shuichi but shuichi's not the one who's been subjected to gin's impulsive bloodthirsty whims as part of his little evil squad ok. rena deserves this just as much as shuichi does

ok about the actual art. sorry i probably could've translated all of my ginkir thoughts into a much better more intense and analytical comic but then i started giggling like a crazy person and this happened. sorry i made gin too babygirl. i need kir to kiss me

#i think rena should kill him #sorry about the whole ESSAY #detective conan #dcmk #dcmk art #gin #gin (detective conan)#kir #rena mizunashi #hidemi hondou #black organisation #ginkir #thihart #thiha goes insane

67 notes · View notes

moooncats · 3 days

Text

✿ PAC: What is holding you back? ✿ •○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○

✿ Pile 1 ✿

✿ What is holding you back? ✿

This is going to be pretty specific here but I'm hearing dream theif. Have you been dreaming at all lately? Your mind could be blocked with a lot of unnecesary stress and random thoughts which makes you over think everything. You carry this baggage with you all day and during the night when it's time for rest, your brain can't reciprocrate what to relay back to you. This vicious cycle then repeats over and over again and you find yourself burnt out, drained, and powerless to your own restrictions. This is honestly reminding me of the video game touch detective. There is a whimsical character named Penelope who gets her dreams stolen by a pastry chef Antoinette. Basically, she crystalizes her sweet dreams and uses it in her pastries. "Dream Cake" a very tasty treat that brought her much fortune. Now that I'm thinking about it, it's a bit ironic that her dreams get stolen to be made into sweets. It reminds me of the saying that sugar before bed causes nightmares. 🍰🤔 💭

✿ How to regain your own power ✿

A dream journal is definitely needed for this pile. I feel that even if you don't have any dreams there is still messages desperately trying to come through to you. When you wake up, get in the habit of writing down the first thoughts that come into your mind. Over time, you'll see that this simple process will retrain your brain to create dreams for you. If you are suffering from the case of nightmares, I would recommend to still journal out what happens. There's hidden messages for you that once you reread it. I would also recommend aroma therapy. In touch detective there was a item you could use called "a sweet dream pillow". It was made with a soft pillow and perfume. Annointing your pillow with lavendar oil and putting an amethyst crystal inside the pillow case may help you when you drift off into the dream realm. (Gif is from another video game fran bow would also highly reccomend playing it or watching a walkthrough on youtube as well as touch detective ♡♡♡).

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○

✿ Pile 2 ✿

✿ What is holding you back? ✿

This could be a prominant feminine figure in your life. This may also be a Male who has a lot of feminine traits. I'm picking up on someone who is spiritual, intuitive, and somewhat wise. They are definitely older than you spiritually and physically. However, for some reason I'm seeing here that when you listen to them and try to follow their teachings, the timing when you try to put their words into action is a bit off. For example, If they told you a story about how they met their signifigant other and it was using candle magick, you may try that out on your crush and it might not work for you. This causes you to basically take 3 steps backwords instead of 3 steps foward. You feel confused and wonder why it worked for them and not for you. When that happens you're most likely confused and wondering why things may seem off. Thus the negative thoughts roll in; Maybe you don't have Magick within you? Maybe you aren't meant for this life? However honey, we all know you have what it takes within you.

✿ How to regain your own power ✿

Just as the previous sentence said you have everything within you to make your reality come true. This pile is innovators. We are in the age of Aquarius, use what resonates with your generation. It is 100% okay to come up with a ritual that fits to you. Technology is an amazing tool. We can get and transfer information so easily. For example subliminals on youtube are so powerful even though all you have to do is listen/watch them, it's so simple yet effective. On the other hand, using old techniques with the combination of new ones will yield great results in your practice. Learn to be confident in your own power and how your mind is. Utilize the tools that you have now that your ancestors had to take hours or days to even get simple answers. We are truly in the future lovelies. 🚀🌌👽

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

✿ Pile 3 ✿

✿ What is holding you back? ✿

You are a bit unbalance as of now my dears. Is there an addiction that you're hiding? It could be as simple as vaping or drinking alcohol. You know when I got your cards I instantly thought of peer pressure. Is there someone in your life who is expecting you to do a lot which causes you to turn to your own vices to cope with all that extra unnesesary stress? If that is so it is very clear with your reading. It seems like you're trying to gain clarity on something and it is holding you back a lot. This pile is reminding me of Ariel from the little mermaid. She wanted to be a human so badly that she made a deal with Ursula just so she can marry a prince. She went to extreme lengths just to please another man. If this is resonating with you perhaps watch the little mermaid there may be hidden messages in the movie for you.

✿ How to Regain your own Power ✿

Everything is fine but remember- in moderation pile 3. I'm seeing here that you have to juggle things in your life so you can truly gain balance. Basically think of a waitress in a heavy traficked restaurant. So many items of food to serve but theres limited space on her tray. Whatever shall she do? Well, she would delegate each food and grab more trays for them. Then cautiosly take the food to her tables while also taking multiple trips. Organizing all your habits is the key here. You need to learn how to strive for balance and harmony. Like a skilled alchemist, blend opposing forces and find the middle path. Trust in your innate ability to bring together seemingly conflicting elements to create a harmonious whole. Remember to seek moderation and patience as you navigate lifes challenges.

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

✿ Pile 4 ✿

✿ What is holding you back? ✿

Are you bored? Perhaps you have the same ole routine that you stick to in your little palace far away from other people. Do you truly feel happy being away from so many people? I'm seeing here that you are lost in a perpetual cycle of intense introspection. Learning is amazing pile 4, but what exactly are you doing with all this new information? This pile reminds me of the saying "knowledge is power". Like yes it is power, but it is that exact knowledge that's holding you back. Like a hermit you stay in your house all day learning. You most likely are into astrology, numerology, astra travel, personality tests, documentaries, etc. Why with the internet I don't blame you. We have the power to learn anything with the touch of a fingertip it can be quite addictive. Especially since it's not like the old days where you had to wait months just to hear from someone through letters. We can easily communicate through technology. But at what cost? Most times were mindlessly staring at a screen- do you truly feel as if you're living in the moment?

✿ How to regain your power ✿

You are in desperate need of a new change of scenery pile 4. I'm seeing here that your mind, body, and soul earns for more. You were put on this earth to help people my dear pile 4. You have so much knowlege and hidden truths in your intricate brain. All that's left to do is to share that knowledge with others. Traveling even to a new city for a day will do wonders for you. "There is only one way to learn... It's through action. Everything you need to learn, you have learned through your journey" -Paulo Coelho The Alchemist. I feel like this quote is perfect for you pile 4, because you're in a stage of stagnation. When we are stagnant nothing good or bad will happen, we're just still. Yes, it does teach us patience but I feel like now is definitely a time to take action as you are well equiped with everything you need to do great things. The world is your oyster.

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

#baby witch #intuition #intuitive #tarot #tarotreading #pac #pick a card #free tarot #tarotblr #witchblr #moooncatstarot

81 notes · View notes

akutasoda · 2 days

Note

For the 1k event can I request angst hcs with the demon bros with a fem mc whos a fallen angel but with mauled wings? Like we’re talking loose feathers and flesh sticking out bonus if they randomly met her in the forest

bloody damnation

synopsis - when they meet a fallen angel in unfortunate circumstance

includes - lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor

warnings - fem!reader (no pronouns), heavy angst, very little comfort, body horror???, lots of blood, wc - 1.8k

lucifer ★↷

↪as part of his brotherly duties, he had to go search the forest out back of the house of lamentation when one of his brothers ran inside claiming there was some 'horrid monster' lurking. creatures in the devildom normally didn't stray as close to the house so he immediately knew something was up.

↪although maybe he would've preferred you to have been 'a horrid monster' purely for the reason of the awkward situation you have placed him in. it's one thing to find some demon or creature with mangled parts, it was another to find an angel - or the reamins of one.

↪your once beautiful, silken wings lay crumpled and tangled in a mess behind you. he could practically smell the blood, see it too as it stained the grass beneath you and soon covered by the white feathers that turned darker as they hit the ground.

↪for obvious reasons, lucifer reluctantly brought (snuck) you into the house and hid you in his room until he managed to get hold of diavolo to sort out your situation. however he knew he couldn't just leave your wings in such a state, it looked like it hurt and he couldn't imagine they'd heal prettily if left like that.

↪he once had beautiful wings, some say he still does. so he knew how important keeping wings in a good condition was and so he managed to convince you to let him provide a basic, temporary solution to your wings. he hardly wanted to know what happened for you to fall let alone fall and end up with your wings in such a condition so he remained silent.

↪bu the time diavolo arrived, lucifer had performed basic healing magic and bandaged your wings to allow the membranes to heal inside your wing. he could think more clearly about the situation of having a fallen angel in the devildom knowing your pain had been limited for now.

mammon ★↷

↪mammon had decided to sneak out again and somehow lucifer found out and was actively searching for him. so he decided that sneaking through the dense forrests on the outskirts would be a good way to avoid lucifer and sneak back in - hopefully convincing lucifer he'd never left.

↪the smell of iron hit his nose and made him stop in his tracks. it dawned on him that he had no idea where he really was and so his mind decided that the blood was because some vile creature was feasting nearby - maybe he'd become the next victim? but when nothing showed signs of appearing, he kept moving forward until he halted at the sight of the blood.

↪he never knew there could be so much blood in one place. the grass was practically a sea of crimson and i the middle was a brutal mess of white that covered what appeared to be a body. mammon felt sick to his stomach at the sight, especially the bits of flesh that clung to your feathers like parasites.

↪now mamon was greedy, he could save himself from your sorry sight and leave or he could do something for you. fortunately mammon could be more kind that greedy at times so when he finally realised just what you were or used to be, he knew he couldn't just leave you to bleed out on the forest floor of unfamiliar territory.

↪he didn't mind recieving a scolding from lucifer when he emerged from his hiding, mainly because lucifer was too stunned to see you in his brother's arms as mammon asked for him to help you. mammon knew how scary it was to fall, he helped his brother and now he wants to help you.

leviathan ★↷

↪it was a well known fact that levi spent most of his days locked inside his room. he barely went outside unless it was for RAD or absolutely necessary for him to leave the sanctity his room provided. however sometimes he'd have to leave his room but he never dwindled around.

↪levi was desperate to get home, it had been a long day at RAD and he finally managed to snag a limited edition item from a store on the outskirts of the devildom. all he had to do now was get back with his purchase in perfect condition. he practically jumped out his skin when he heard a scream from further beyond in one of devildom's forest beside him.

↪he knew he shouldn't walk into a dodgy forest after hearing a scream - it was like every horror troupe! but surely a peak couldn't hurt after all what if someone was hurt? not that he'd normally care all that much but something felt different, more serious.

↪and he was right, the sight wasn't pleasant by all means. the remains of what could only be an angel thrasing around desperately trying to subdue the bleeding that was a constant stream of crimson. levi felt sick, by no means was it your fault but he just couldn't stand the sight of your flesh and feathers mixing together.

↪he fumbled desperately trying to reach his d.d.d to contact lucifer for help but he felt absolutely helpless in the scenario. he had fallen once, sure it wasn't aa brutal as you but he could only imagine the fear you must be feeling - especially whe you're wings are practically falling off. but what could a lowly otaku like him do?

satan ★↷

↪on his way back from RAD, he had seen a rather adorable cat run past into a nearby forest and naturally satan followed. a part of him was convinced that maybe he would get lucky and find some sort of secret cat hideout in the devildom.

↪he found it rather alarming that the cat suddenly turned heel and ran back past him not to far fron a clearing. although when he looked into the clearing, he hadn't expected to see the fallen remains of an angel crumpled into the floor.

↪ originally he thought you looked absolutely ethereal, ironically the devildom's light seemed to highlight your features perfectly. however he quickly doubled back on his thoughts when he could see the mess that were you're wings. the crimson coated over what used to be a pure white, feathers had fallen and in their place was evidence of flesh that certainly shouldn't of been there.

↪he had always been curious and so showed no hesitation in stepping towards your poor form. the exhaustion from blood loss and the actual act of 'falling' was evident on your frame and so you barely paid attention to the approaching demon - perhaps he'd be kind enough to put you out of your misery.

↪satan knew you were still alive but he was stumped. did he just leave you here for something crueler to come along and finish you or did he help you?

asmodeus ★↷

↪it had been another late night for asmo, he had snuck out once again against lucifer's demand and asmo had spent some time at the fall. although for some reason he wasn't actually in the mood to be there no matter how hard he tried to convince himself to stay, so he had left way earlier than normal.

↪it was a rather quiet night all over devildom, way quieter than what asmo was used to seeing and so he figured he might as well just head back. or that was his plan until the sight of a rather deep crimson caught his attention. small drops lead into puddles and eventually the source lay at the edge of the outskirts of a forest.

↪asmo started panicking and immediately fumbled out his d.d.d to call atleast one of his brothers who may be able to help. he wasn't dumb and could recognise those wight feathers, he knew you used to be an angel because the greying feathers told him that you were no longer welcome back in the celestial realm.

↪he took great pity on you. he was sure you would've beeen a stunning angel but know you were reduced to nothing but a former shell - just like him all those years ago. he took cautious steps toward you but it became clear that exhaustion had taken over you, oh how he wishes he could help you return to your former beauty.

beelzebub ★↷

↪it had been another late fangol game. the other team had put up more of a fight than beel's team anticipated and the matches dragged on and on. once the game had finished he informed his brother's that stayed to watch that they could go home without him as he'd still be a while.

↪he didn't mind walking home on his own at all or atleast until he closed nearer to the house of lamentation and saw a very concerning amount of blood trailing off into the closest forest. beel was a kind soul at heart and if somebody was hurt, he'd want to help.

↪although he wasn't exactly prepared to find a bleeding angel at the end of the trail. the sight of you and your mangled mess of feathers, flesh and blood was by no means pretty. he approached you carefully but he could tell that even if you did notice him, you didn't care. you were too exhausted to do anything but accept your fate.

↪beel felt pity when he watched your slumped form crumple to the ground, he did rush over and checked if you were alive. one minute you had been laying face down in youe own blood, the next some stranger was carrying you away and before you're mind slipped into darkness you heard multiple voices as somebody laid you down on a rather comdy surface.

belphegor ★↷

↪the avatar of sloth wouldn't be the avatar of sloth if he didn't spend most of his time lazing around or sleeping. he rarely went out without nearly falling asleep many times. but sometimes the house of lamentation gets too loud. way too loud. normally he just goes into the attic but between mammon being ounished by lucifer and satan going through a rage, he'd rather not.

↪the forest behind the house was normally quiet and no unwanted creatures normally came near as they also seemed to fear lucifer. sure it wasn't the attic but he was tired and needed one minute of peace without fearing that satan would wreck through the entire house or lucifer would do the same trying to catch mammon. he didn't plan to be long but the unpleasant smell of blood quickly hit his senses.

↪out of weird curiosity, he followed the smell and he wished he didn't. he stared at you as a flurry of emotions swirled inside of him. was this what pain lillith had to endure when she was forced out of the celestial realm? no, no she was sent to the human world, surely it was painless physically? all belphie could do was stare awkwardly at the bloody mess that was you.

↪he could hear your laboured breathing and could see the amount of pain you probably were in, yet he froze. the right thing to do would be to go alert his brother's of your presence but he doubted they wouldn't be much help right now but he could barely help you himself.

akutasoda's 1k event

83 notes · View notes

pucked-bunnie · 2 days

Text

bf headcanons ⎜j.swayman

pairings: jeremy swayman x reader prompts: bf headcanons + "where my hug at?" warnings: none! word count: 1k note: i absolutely adore mr jeremy swayman and think he would be such an adorable bf.

(unedited)

- Is 100% the sweetest little dude in the whole wide world.

- The kind of boyfriend who is so attentive to everything you could ever need. Would have a drawer set up for you when you first started dating in case you ever wanted to stay over.

- Would go to your house and take photos of every type of hygiene product you use and keep it in his bathroom just in case.

- The kind of man who is actually obsessed with you - your biggest fan in every way possible, everything that is your favourite is now his favourite.

- Quality time is one of his top love languages, he would absolutely love to do activities for dates: hikes, bowling, waterparks, painting classes etc.

- He was so nervous on the first date, he face timed his sister to make sure what he was wearing was appropriate and gave “boyfriend core” vibes

- after a few weeks of dating he started making his ‘wedding day’ playlist - because it’s good to be prepared.

- the first christmas you spend together he was adamant about not getting each other presents - he didn’t want you to waste your hard earned money on him, but trust that when you show up for lunch with him and the Ullmark family he had bought you more gifts then you can fit in your car, claiming “I have all this money and now I finally have someone to spend it on.”

- Just everything about spending christmas with Jeremy would be magical.

- Jeremy is a ridiculously empathetic person, when he walks into the lounge room and see you tearing up at the adoption campaigns on tiktok for the local shelter he sits a cries with you. “We can get them all, I promise.”

- Not to mention the way his body would tense, even though his eyes soften any time you talk about how your ex boyfriends treated you - or how people were mean to you at work today, all this man wants is for his girlfriend to be happy.

- This man is a sucker for eye contact - if you make eye contact with him for more then thirty seconds he is swooning hard.

- He loves to show that he’s paying attention and eye contact is how he does that - he is very much an active listener, just small ‘uh huh’s’ and ‘mhms’ every now and then to make sure you know he’s listening.

- He would 100% go for a book girlie - taking you out to the bookstore every time he’s going away for a road trip to make sure you have entertainment while he’s away.

- Love taking your recommendations and reading them on the plane or team bus and sending you his thoughts, don’t even get me started on when he figures out what annotations are.

- Would share earbuds with you on a hike, a thriller playing the two of you gasping as you walk over rocks and hills.

- This man is such a chatter box, he would have so much to say after a game, his hand swinging yours between the two of you, his other hand making gestures as he tells about all the goals he stopped and about the blink 182 song he couldn’t stop singing - would proceed to play that song when you get in the car.

- I feel like Jeremy would be so private about your relationship, as much as he’d love to show you off and make sure everyone knew you were taken - he would want to wait until you were comfortable, and until you were sure that you wanted to be seen as a “bruins wag”

- Coming back to love languages, Jeremy is very much a physical touch kind of person, his hand has to be in yours at all time, he would hold his hand behind him making grabby motions whenever he’s walking in front of you.

- When your standing next to him, his arm would wrap around your waist, or hang over your shoulder, rubbing soft patterns on your limbs.

- He is also the type of person to un-ironically ask “where my hug at?” whenever he see you.

- Whenever you two go to bed, he would strip off his shirt and lie face down on the mattress, placing your hand on his bare back demanding scratches as you flick the pages of your book on your kindle.

- His favourite game is trying to guess what shape you are drawing on his skin.

- Is an ally for every cause you can think of - would go with you to pride parades, and show up to any kind of charity event. He gives bi-wife energy ngl.

- He’s also an ally in the sense that he would love to have kids one day but ultimately thinks it up to his partner - it’s your body you can do what you wish with it. He’s a big fan of the idea of adoption.

- Let’s be real for a moment, Jeremy is very serious under his goofball demeanour, he would be one of the kindest and most honest partners you could hope for. I feel like he would always be the kind of person to be in a friends-to-lovers scenario, wanting to make sure you were compatible before he committed.

- Jeremy all round is such a cuddly teddy bear, he would do anything for his partner and would give the world to people he loves, in return he needs someone who would extend the same to him.

- Every tough guys needs to be spoilt every now and then, despite asking you to not spend your money on him, he would blush the entire time if you took him out for a surprise date.

- He would gush over photos of you in your wag jacket, and would giggle and kick his feet and the video of you and Moa sharing a goalie hug.

- He loves seeing the person he loves, enjoying the things he loves so seeing you at games and cheering him on is almost an out of body experience for him.

- Jeremy Swayman is the standard.

#jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman fanfic #jeremy swayman x reader #jeremy swayman headcanon #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl fic #prompt request #prompt list #requests #nhl headcanon #nhl headcanons

68 notes · View notes

shiraishi-kanade · 2 days

Text

A lot of An's character arc revolves around other people because at her core she is lonely: alternatively, middle school An Shiraishi was not having that grand of a time and here's why.

An is by no means a person who's shunned by others or has no friends, she isn't lonely by conventional means, but she's lonely in a way that she couldn't find anyone to connect with after Nagi's passing.

Even then, there's a solid chance that that isolation has started before; we can see in An's past that it's not only An's dream alone but also her skill that makes her seem unreachable to others.

Because of who her family is and also because of who An is, she was shoved in this kind of unique position of "If anyone can do it, it's her." An was put on a pedestal by everyone around her. That is also the exact opposite of a situation that Akito (and consecutively Touya) have ended up in, who started our being rejected and pushed down.

Teaming up with An on her terms would have meant admitting you have to meet her at her level. Whether An realized that or not, whether she knew the truth behind Rad Weekend or not, that was just what it was.

An is not prejudiced, though. She really just wanted a team who had the same dream she did. But other people raised the bar for being An's partner even if An herself didn't have any requirements other than having a serious dream.

But that is isolating. Going through that for two years is isolating. If try to find someone special for two years and fail because people either don't take you seriously at all or take you so seriously they can't think of themselves as being good enough for you, that will mess you up in one way or another.

(This also means An's partner was always fated to be someone outside of Vivid Street - someone who didn't know the intricacies and implications of teaming up with An and did that just because they wanted to. In a twisted and ironic way, it was always meant to be Kohane.)

That's why An is constantly walking on eggshells around Kohane. Kohane is her first shot at making a real connection and An wouldn't let go of it easily; but that's also why An keeps messing things up and having messy feelings about Kohane: she is her first try to build that kind of relationship.

This is also in part why she's so hesitant to confront those feelings head on; she doesn't think she's allowed to express them because she doesn't want to hurt Kohane, and because she's already been a bad partner and because she's afraid to lose her. It's a vicious cycle of her past being so lonely she desperately craves a connection but because she's been so lonely she doesn't want how to handle the challenges that inevitably come with that connection.

(It's also about how An thought she had a special connection with Nagi - and she did, but Nagi was an adult with her own issues and problems going on which she just couldn't share with An because their relationship was still that of a mentor and a student. Nagi knew she shouldn't, and didn't, burden An with her feelings. But lack of truly meaningful connection with someone her age affected An later in her life. Kohane is socially awkward on the surface, but An is socially awkward internally. With Kohane, she's experiencing a lot of new feelings she hasn't dealt with before, and she doesn't know how to deal with them. She's the most experienced singer out of the group... But she's the least experienced as far as human relationships go.)

In the end, the confrontation was inevitable from the very beginning, because An needs to start seeing Kohane as someone will agency and will and as someone who can handle An at her worst, too. The fear to lose Kohane and her team if she really expressed what she feels (and it won't be pretty) is holding her back. An doesn't have to always be a perfect partner; she needs to see and understand that Kohane will understand and never leave her even if she isn't.

#jay rambles.txt #jay's character analysis #project sekai #an shiraishi #pjsk #prsk #vivid bad squad

58 notes · View notes

arminreindl · 2 days

Text

The NEW Ultrastenos and its Ironic History

So those that have been keeping up with my posts on mekosuchines might recall the name Ultrastenos, as I've talked about this genus back in August of last year. If you've read that post you might also remember how I highlight at multiple points that a lot of the info was tentative on the basis that Ultrastenos was highly incomplete and that close relatives awaited description.

You may also remember "Baru" huberi, a small mekosuchine that lived roughly around the same time, clearly distinct from Baru yet at that point still unnamed. Oh, how I wished for the former to get more material and for the latter to recieve a proper genus assignment.

My now outdated reconstructions for "Baru" huberi (the small one in the left image) and Ultrastenos (right image)

And then the monkey's paw curled.

As it turns out....they are the same damn animal. Now, back when "Baru" huberi was described, Willis also named a bunch of other mekosuchines from the same locality (the White Hunter Site of the Riversleigh WHA) and described even more material that remained unnamed, including the White Hunter Cranial Form 1. Now, when Ultrastenos was named in 2016, the type material was from the Low Lion Site (also Riversleigh), but importantly, the skull tables identified as WHCF1 were also assigned to the genus (and were the basis for my reconstruction).

Well, re-examination has shown that the WHCF1 and the holotype of "Baru" huberi aren't just a single species.....THEY ARE A SINGLE INDIVIDUAL.

Given the fact that the assignment of the skull table to the Low Lion Ultrastenos material still holds up, this means that Ultrastenos willisi and "Baru" huberi are a single taxon. Which consequently requires some reshuffling of the names.

"Baru" huberi was named first, so the species name takes priority and continues being used. However, since it was never given a genus name, Ultrastenos does stay valid. Except now it's called Ultrastenos huberi, not Ultrastenos willisi. A name that has aged like milk. Back in 2016 it was proposed that Ultrastenos had a very narrow snout (thus the name), so now that we know that the rostrum was flat and mesorostrine, the name really is just wrong.

So next up, lets examine what went wrong.

As I said before, Ultrastenos was fragmentary, so that certainly played a big part in it. But the team in charge of describing the animal still cited several lines of thinking to support their interpretation, most of which are now thoroughly debunked.

As an example, the lower jaw was rather shallow, however while this was initially taken as evidence for longirostry, the 2024 paper states that this only an argument against altirostry (a deep skull), not against a more generalized condition. The teeth were also initially used as evidence, citing their homodont condition (the teeth looked uniform), HOWEVER, the problem in that was that there were only a few teeth present, all of which notably do not bear any resemblance to the needle-like teeth seen in other long-snouted taxa. Another important clue initially taken to mean longirostry was the orientation of the quadrate area and the seemingly sudden constriction of the lower jaw. But the quadrate area was not found in articulation and would support a generalized skull form if simply rotated a little, while the constriction of the mandible appears to at least be partially exaggerated by preservation.

Of course, the fact that we now have proper material of the snout makes the interpretation of a generalized skull shape a lot more solid.

Image 1: The left and right halves of the mandible of Ultrastenos compared to that of Baru iylwenpeny (D), note how the right half is a lot more straight. Image 2: The initial reconstruction of the quadrate area of Ultrastenos compared to one that is slightly rotated Image 3: The revamped skull reconstruction by Yates and Stein

The size of the animal does stay relatively unaffected by these new discoveries. "Baru" huberi has been estimated at only around 1.5 meters in length and my own scaling of Ultrastenos got up to 2 meters, which seems to be in line with what is still assumed for this animal. So among aquatic mekosuchines, its still rather small.

There are however some interesting implications for mekosuchines at large. Now that we no longer have a longirostrine member of this family, one has to wonder, why is that? Well, there might be several reasons.

It could be that the types of environments that were present in Cenozoic Australia simply didn't support such animals. Even in the type description, its been noted that the Riversleigh isn't exactly known for its fish remains, leading to the idea that Ultrastenos might have gone for other small vertebrates like frogs. Hell, the ecology of Baru might suggest that the reason that this genus was so robust might tie to the fact that the local bodies of water just weren't deep enough to allow the typical crocodilian grab-and-drown tactic.

Competition might have been another factor. In environments that may have been more suitable for such morphology, mekosuchines might have been beaten to the punch by other types of crocodilians. Harpacochampsa for example, tho originally thought to be a mekosuchine, is now more often regarded as either an unrelated crocodile or a gharial and its very possible that it filling the nische of a longirostrine simply meant that mekosuchines didn't have the opportunity to expand into that space. Same goes for Gunggamarandu in the Pliocene and Pleistocene and Freshwater Crocodiles from the Pleistocene onwards. (Tho it should be noted that both Harpacochampsa and Gunggamarandu are so fragmentary that their snout shape is technically unknown).

Images: Gunggamarandu (Eleanor Pease), Harpacochampsa (ArtbyJRC) and Freshies (Antoni Camozzato) might have been key factors in why mekosuchines never evolved slender snouts.

Finally, its also possible that something in the growth of mekosuchines simply prevents them from evolving longirostrine skulls, which Yates and Stein liken to alligatoroids (notably the closest alligatoroids got to traditional longirostry as seen in gharials is the Rio Apaporis Caiman, and even that one is closer to some extant crocodiles in its morphology).

Whatever the case, I for one mourn the loss of our long-snouted Ultrastenos. Tho as a note for any paleoartists, there is not a single illustration of this new interpretation since nobody ever drew "Baru" huberi either. Wink wink nudge nudge

Links:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ultrasteno

Ultrastenos revised (palaeo-electronica.org)

#long post #harpacochampsa #ultrastenos #baru huberi #mekosuchinae #gunggamarandu #oligocene #riversleigh #paleontology #palaeoblr #croc #crocodile #crocodilia #prehistory #cenozoic

41 notes · View notes

that-bwitch · 3 days

Text

but daddy, I love him

summary: your choice of a partner doesn't leave your parents satisfied, seeing as it's Sirius Black, an infamous "blood traitor". does anything have the power to convince them? are you even willing to try?

pairing: sirius black x reader

warning: wizarding bigotry, teenage angst, smoking

wc: 3.8k

a/n: the first of the many inspired by taytay's ttpd. "but daddy I love him" is so sirius coded, I had to.

You wanted to love your family so badly, you truly did. Throughout your whole life your parents had been giving you whatever you needed and wanted – they had the money and they had the power to make your life as simple as the Accio spell. But no one ever stopped to think what it really meant to belong to one of the most ancient pureblood families in the Wizarding World. Everybody always saw the benefits: the new shiny textbooks, the perfectly ironed uniform, owls bringing you the most delicious snacks and rare books relating to your latest interests every week, your bed frame in the dorm decorated to the brim. You appreciated being that privileged, you never failed to thank your parents for the way they brought you up. However, you were fiercely shielded from any outside troubles that could possibly hinder your education and your innocence, as they put it. Ultimately, fate decided to perform its finest display of ruthless irony on you, and your parents’ endless disquietude became the very thing that led to the demise of your relationship with them.

You never expected your dating life to be of such interest to your family, simply thanks to the fact that it was never a question. You hadn’t had any serious partners before, partly due to your tender age, partly due to your own indifference to finding a suitable match.

But then Sirius Black asked you out, and your whole world had stars aligned in front of you in heart-shaped constellations; and it came down in shambles at the same time.

“Love, you alright?”

His delicately worried voice pulled you out of the misery that your parents’ letter promptly put you in.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you answered, shaking your head to temporarily kick the haunting unpleasantries out of your mind. “It’s just… this.”

You showed Sirius a thick envelope with a gold-encrusted seal, your family crest shining proudly and glaringly in the rays of the first summer sun. He barely glanced at the paper and snatched it from you, carelessly throwing it into the fireplace. You watched the flames hungrily devouring the carefully folded letter but leaving the seal perfectly undamaged. It stared at you like a glowing all-seeing orb, burning through your skull and serving as a reminder that everything you had just read was real and imminent.

“The school’s gotta give you props for all this rubbish to keep the fireplaces running.”

You chuckled at Sirius’ vitriol but it hardly lightened the thunderclouds gathering right above your head.

“You know words don’t burn, right?”

“Seems to me like they just did.” Sirius pointed at the seal that finally started to melt, stuck between pieces of firewood and piles of ash.

You let out a heavy breath and turned away from the fireplace to face your boyfriend. He was lying on the couch, head resting on a soft velvety cushion, looking at you with quite a joyful expression on his face. In your mind, it didn’t fit the situation at all, but you had gotten used to his nonchalance about your parents’… dislike of him. Or, better put, their vicious hatred that they never even tried to hide.

“Do you really not care?” you wondered for the umpteenth time, knowing that a no was a sure follow-up to your question.

“Why would I?” Sirius grinned and his hand safely covered yours, resting on the arm of the sofa. “The best part of your fam loves me, and others are a bunch of wankers.”

“I’m the only part of my fam that loves you, babe,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes but giving him a little smile. He smiled back, but stayed silent, noticing that you weren’t finished yet. “I’m already seventeen but I still feel like I’m a wee baby when they talk to me, or send me letters, or even look at me!”

“I know, love, it sucks. But you remember the plan, right?”

You nodded, and the smile on your face had finally turned genuine.

“The one where we come to my graduation dinner together even though my parents explicitly stated many times that there’s not a single universe in which they allow you to step on the property, and if you do, it would be over their dead bodies?”

“Merlin, the way you describe it! Might just be the best prank I’ve ever pulled!”

Sirius burst out laughing and you couldn’t help but follow his lead, his contagious joy making you feel whole again. The two of you came up with this madness of a plan as soon as you heard about your mother talking about a graduation dinner in your honour. They would never allow Sirius to attend, not in a million years; hell, they refused to even look at him when they saw you off at Platform 9 ¾ at the beginning of your last year at Hogwarts. They ignored his existence whenever he came into their sight, like during the holidays, when you got off the train hand in hand with your boyfriend and your parents greeted you, hugged you, kissed you on the forehead, but Sirius was frozen out completely, as if his existence was but a figment of your imagination. He never cared though; he would snicker at their theatrics and kiss you right in front of them, throwing a challenge directly in their stuck-up faces of the Wizarding nobility. Your parents came to know that their never-ending nagging wouldn’t stop you from dating Sirius Black, but they did hold specks of hope that you would grow out of your “immature phase” and give them what they wanted – a perfect little husband from another holier-than-thou household.

Never in a thousand lifetimes would you agree.

The time had come. You had to admit that you were somewhat nervous - never before had you defied your parents’ rules so explicitly and so shamelessly. You Floo’d to the Diagon Alley under the guise of last-minute preparations for the big event. Sirius was waiting for you right there, fully prepared: he was sporting a leather jacket, torn up jeans and a nearly finished cigarette in his mouth. This lad certainly went all out to look as much as a rebellious kid cliché as it was humanly possible, and you absolutely adored it. You couldn’t wait to see the reactions; your whole family was to be present at the dinner, even the most distant relatives, who might not have heard about Sirius at all – your parents hid the fact you were dating him like a dirty secret never to be uncovered.

“Love, you ready?”

Sirius took your hand in his, clearly feeling your accelerated pulse against his own steady heartbeat.

“I was less scared of our Transfiguration N.E.W.T., if I’m honest,” you admitted, hearing your voice tremble ever so slightly. “But then again, McGonagall isn’t a sanctimonious bitch.”

Sirius let out a short laugh, but his eyes were the most earnest when he gave you one last look before turning towards the fireplace, with a handful of Floo powder ready to go.

“Let’s show them, baby. You and I, against the world.”

With his encouraging words swirling in your mind, you let yourself get sucked into the labyrinths of the Floo Network, headstrong into what could turn out as the worst and the best moment of your whole life.

Your clumsy roll out into the main living room of the family manor was a perfect start for a spectacle that was inevitably about to unfold. As soon as you stood up, Sirius flew out right behind you, almost knocking you down to the floor again.

“Daughter? What is going on?!”

Your father’s voice sounded like a church bell above you. At last, you looked up at a crowd of people, all dressed up to bits, staring at you agape, their jaws on a synchronous road to meet the bristly carpet of the living room. The silence was so loud one could hear grains of sand pouring into the bottom half of an ancient hourglass adorning the mantelpiece.

“Mom, Dad,” you started, dusting off your ivory white Sunday best, “and you, Aunt Sarah, and you, Aunt Hannah, and, of course, you, Uncle Marcus! I’m terribly sorry if I’m forgetting some of you, it’s not often that you grace us with your presence!”

Sarcasm was spilling out of your pretentious speech, as you finally had the audacity to say what you had been wanting to express for the past year. Sirius’ presence gave you some much needed courage not to stumble on your words as you tore your heart out of your chest and pinned it shut on your sleeve.

“Merlin, you lot aren’t that suave for a bunch of sirs and madams!”

Speaking of the devil.

Sirius whistled, reaching your side and putting his arm around your bare shoulders. You had picked a dress like that specifically to piss your parents off a little more. They had always told you that any skin visible to the eye below the neck and above the knees was awfully indecent, very unladylike – so you just had to stick it to them.

“Daughter, what is he doing here?!” your mother tried to whisper, but in the deafening silence her voice could be heard as clearly as if she used the Sonorus spell. “Didn’t we tell you…”

“That you’d rather die than accept your dear daughter dating someone you deem undesirable?”

Your mother tried shushing you, giving desperate faux smiles to the guests around.

“What, you didn’t tell anyone?” you continued with a sneer. “Aunts, Uncles, cousins, meet Sirius Black! We’re in love!”

An array of ahs and ohs rang out in the air, and you could see Aunt Hannah clutching her chunky pearl necklace like it was her favourite childhood plushie. Sirius gave the crowd a way overly-exaggerated curtsy.

“Sirius Black, at your service,” he announced, taking out a cigarette out of the pack and popping it between his teeth, ready to light it. Before he had time to do it, the lighter was knocked out of his hands, hitting the wall on the other side of the room with a loud thump. You noticed your father’s moving hand hiding his wand back into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Don’t you dare smoke inside this house!” the man shouted, wishing to incinerate Sirius right where he stood with his scathing glare.

Sirius barked out a laugh and another lighter appeared in his hand. He didn’t go for a cigarette this time, merely playing with the thing in-between his fingers.

“Rule number one when at a pureblood’s den,” he mockingly drawled the words, turning the lighter on and off, “always have a spare lighter.”

You couldn’t hold in a chuckle when you saw your parents ominously fuming at every syllable escaping your boyfriend’s mouth. Your father sighed so loudly, one would think he was on his death bed.

“Let us take this outside, shall we?” He motioned towards the field serving as the manor’s backyard. You looked at the innocent flowers quivering in the wind and thought that they didn’t deserve whatever mess was about to happen within family bounds on this beautiful summer evening.

“Don’t you think it’s unfair, Dad, to deprive our lovely audience?”

You gave the people around you the fakest brightest smile you could muster. No one returned it.

“Daughter, do not taunt me,” your father warned you. “We can use the dining room, if you so desire, but nothing happens here.”

You glanced at Sirius and caught his nod of approval. The dining room was close enough so that your parents couldn’t possibly hurt Sirius, or even you – you were quite sure they wouldn’t touch you with a tip of a finger, but a bit of discretion didn’t seem too excessive. Plus, and it was the only reason you agreed – you didn’t have to suffocate under the heavy stares of your kin.

The dining room wasn’t too different from the living room, the only obvious distinction being a long hardwood table stretching almost wall to wall. It wasn’t yet set – the meal itself was to start at a later hour. Your mother was the last to enter, struggling to dismiss a choir of what-a-messes from your pathetic aunts with desperate promises to deal with the whole situation as soon as they could. She cast a charm to silence you to the rest of the world and turned, at last, to face you. Your father slipped into one of the dining chairs, but you and Sirius remained standing, given some sense of dominance due to the now apparent height difference.

“I will not dance around the subject, daughter, we are terribly disappointed in you.”

Father’s words didn’t sting as much as you thought, and you almost let out a loud sigh of relief as this realization dawned on you. They almost had a tinge of freedom in them, a bittersweet taste of long-awaited liberty. All expectations burdening your fragile shoulders suddenly vanished and you could straighten your back and run, conquering hill after hill, mountain after mountain. They were disappointed. You had nothing to uphold anymore.

“Oh, I heard this one before.” Behind you Sirius laughed, almost grunting, which made you chuckle as well. “Trust me, babe, it only gets better from here.”

Mother shot a highly disapproving look at Sirius, but stayed silent. You always hated it; “A good wife lets her husband talk,” she once said in response to your childish question, and you never asked again.

“What about, Dad? Does my happiness look disappointing to you?” Your question sounded naive, but you knew you hit the exact spot. Your parents had been telling you since your earliest years that all they wanted for you was happiness. Apparently, they forgot to add “happiness that we approve of and scrupulously choose for you” at the end.

“Your happiness? What happiness, daughter? Him? He’s the happiness?”

Your father spat out each word as if it was poison he had accidentally drunk, as if it was a travesty to mention Sirius Black and happiness in the same sentence.

“You do not know what happiness looks like, daughter. You’re only seventeen. You do not know any better.”

“And what do you know about happiness, Dad?!”

Your voice cracked as you felt it growing louder. At this point, the conversation couldn’t avoid turning into a full-blown fight, but it was destined to be exactly that from the beginning. You came prepared.

“Is this perfectly sleek suit of yours happiness? Are my Outstanding N.E.W.Ts happiness? Is having your whole life laid out in front of you from the day you were born happiness, Dad?!”

“You do not know what you are talking about!” Father shouted, his fist rapidly meeting the surface of the table. You flinched and Sirius was quick to jump in front of you, his wand squeezed tightly in his hand.

“Sir, just so you know, this wand has been used on authority figures before.” Sirius waved it in front of him, as if it was but another gauntlet thrown into your father’s face. The sarcasm in his “Sir” was flaming hot. “And for all I care, you’re no authority.”

Father took out his own wand from the same inner pocket and pointed it at Sirius.

“Boy, I will not bat an eye if you turn to dust right here and now,” he stated, his nose wrinkled in disgust, but his eyes slowly turning a shade of bloody red. It was your turn to step in between them, shielding your bold but reckless boyfriend from your father’s simmering rage.

“Dad, stop, I love him!”

It wasn’t the first case of you telling your parents that you loved Sirius, but as these words made an escape from you this time, they had almost acquired a new meaning. They felt more real, more pointed and firmer. Your father didn’t think so. He merely sneered at your proud declaration and rolled his exasperated eyes.

“Love, happiness… All this pointless charade just to prove that you are still a petulant child.” Father turned his head to look at his wife, who nodded in unconditional agreement.

“We did not raise you like that, daughter,” she finally spoke, her tone the same as your father’s.

“Your mother is right. You had everything, daughter, everything you did and did not need. And what do you do in return? Mess around with this blood traitor?!” Father spat out the last word with utmost repugnance.

Honestly speaking, the phrase had a way worse effect on you than on Sirius. He had time to grow some thick skin, dealing with bullshit bigotry from blood-purity lunatics for a while, but it was a first for you – hearing such venom from your parent, whom you still hoped to respect and to love.

“If you, sir, are dumb enough to think this was an insult – try the fuck again.”

Mother gasped and shouted “Language!”, but Sirius’ only response came in the form of a sly grin. As soon as he did it, Father jumped up from his seat and pointed his wand at Sirius with such force that it almost slid out of his hand. Sirius mirrored his actions in a relaxed, almost lethargic manner, as if he was calling Father’s bluff.

“STOP. RIGHT. NOW!”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. With every single passing second, your boundaries were being stomped on by your parents, and even though you had the most pleasure doing it back, you wished for the mess to end. The two men lowered their wands and stared at you simultaneously – Sirius with pride, and Father – with fury.

“Dad, Mom, do you not understand?! You never saw me as a person, just a damn doll to dress up!” You completely ignored your parents’ shock at your straightforward use of a very simple curse word, because it was just a beginning. “You gave me everything, and for what? For me to follow your every fucking order to a T?! For you to bitch and moan about every single decision I make using my pretty damn sound mind?!”

“What has this blood traitor done to you, daughter?” your mother sighed, looking at you with forced sympathy. “You are swearing at your own loving parents who just want to save you…”

“If there’s something to save me from, it’s you!”

You didn’t buy Mother’s crocodile tears that were about to stream down her cheeks. Always the same shit, always her clutching her heart, or her head, or both at the same time. She wasn’t about to coax you again.

“Listen to your mother! You are carrying our noble family name, tracing back centuries. You cannot disgrace it with your outrageous behaviour!”

“Not for long!”

Sirius’ voice was a breath of fresh air in a viscous swamp of your parents’ soliloquies, but for the first time today you didn’t know where he was going. The only thing he gave you was a reassuring smile, which was nice but not helpful at all.

The next minute unraveled in front of you second by second, and you felt each one pass by like the Unforgivables barely missing you and whizzing through the room. Sirius hid his wand and instead took something out of his pocket – you couldn’t discern the thing, but it looked suspiciously similar to a tiny box, – simultaneously getting down on one knee. Three pairs of eyes widened at the same time, but with different emotions concealed in their depths: Father was enveloped with pure wrath and despair; Mother was simply shocked, covering her mouth with a trembling hand; you felt nearly hysterical, your brain vacant from any foreign thoughts except for the man kneeling in front of you with what you could already see was a ring peeking from the wooden box.

“My love,” Sirius began, fully content with every reaction he received so far, “my baby, my little nugget of joy…”

You didn’t want to interrupt him but couldn’t help laughing at the pet name.

“I’d be a bit wordier if it wasn’t, y’know…” His head tilted towards your parents, who still hadn’t evaporated the two of you for some reason. “But I hope to have a lifetime for that. Now, just one question, love.”

You were ready to nod your head away until it would fall off and roll into the corner, but you wanted to hear Sirius say the sacred four words. Most importantly, you wanted your parents to hear them, and maybe pass out at your enthusiastic agreement.

“Will you marry me?”

Your yelled out “YES!” could very likely pierce through whatever silencing charms your mother had put on the dining room. A second later the ring was already on your finger, and you were in your fiancé’s arms, spinning around in endless circles of sheer love and uninterrupted bliss. Your lips quickly found his. Your parents were furious. You didn’t care.

“Daughter?!”

Your father’s voice wasn’t a church bell anymore. It resembled a first-year getting caught up in the Whomping Willow for the first time – abnormally high, breaking and unequivocally frightened.

“Dad?” you mimicked his tone and were pretty damn good at it, if Sirius had a say. “You know what, Dad? If this is the blood running through my veins, I’m more than willing to betray it.”

Mother’s cheeks were wet from tears at last; the flood wasn’t sorrowful, not at all – it was filled with spite. Father clutched his wand, but something stopped him – maybe he was ultimately conscious of the fact that from that moment on he had no power over you. You thanked Merlin for his obsolete mentality that told him wives were their husbands’ properties – well, not yet husband’s in your case, but the premise remained. Oh, the irony! The thing that made him have a measly shred of respect for Sirius was the fact that he was about to marry you – not that he had been your choice of a partner for at least a year.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m taking my future Mrs. Black the fuck away from here.”

Sirius was a gentleman. He offered you his arm, chivalrously opened the door for you and proudly displayed your hand with a shiny stone on your ring finger to each and every nosy aunt willing – no, desperate to take a look. You parents had already left the dining room, but shifted along the wall to avoid the ever-inquisitive relatives. You swiftly reached the fireplace and grabbed a handful of powder each. You were so ready to finally leave the manor behind that your whole body moved by itself, without any input from your consciousness.

“And she’s having my baby!” you heard Sirius shouting just before you disappeared into the green fire of the Floo Network.

Both of you rolled out of the fireplace somewhere in the Diagon Alley, one after the other. You could finally let your guard down and burst into genuine, merry laughter; Sirius did the same, standing up and pulling you into his loving embrace.

“Love, you should’ve seen their faces!” he claimed, excitement washing over him and capturing you by association. “Bet they won’t forget us until the day they die.”

You secretly hoped they wouldn’t.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #the marauders #the marauders era #the marauders imagine #the marauders fanfiction

41 notes · View notes

ididntknowwhattocallthis · 3 days

Text

Ok I wanna talk about Ethari's clothing/design over all. His clothes and tattoos are different from every other Moonshadow elf we've seen, and he's one of the few that doesn't wear braids. Like:

The recurring elements are intricate patterning; over layers and under layers; multiple colors in the same garment (or at least same outfit); wraparound construction, color contrast between mediums, lights, and darks; and the dominant color is always the medium, never the lightest or darkest color (usually navy, true black is very rare outside of the assassins). Even arc 2 Rayla follows most of these rules and she's been away from her culture for two years!

But then we have Ethari:

He doesn't have an outer layer, he wears almost solid navy, none of those clothes are wraparound, he has no light color, there's not a lot of contrast, and his dark color is true black despite not being an assassin. He bends all the rules, though he only breaks one completely. He still has that patterning, but it's minimal compared to the others. He has plenty of accent colors, more than anyone else actually, but they show up on him far less. He does have light, medium, and dark colors, but his whole pallet is darker than everyone else's. The only rule he 100% breaks is the wraparound construction

A lot of this probably derives from the fact that he's a metalsmith:

For the most part his clothes quite are practical;

Black/navy hides coal dust/soot very well. It gets everywhere, on your pants and face especially, and is highly visible on just about every other color.

Forging is hot work & you do it next to a fire that needs to be at least 1000° celsius, I never wear more than one layer either.

those sleeves, while a bit looser than I'd be comfortable with, probably aren't going to get in the way. Plus I heard somewhere that they're spelled to repel heat (couldn't find if that's actually canon tho), so if that's true they're much better than my gloves.

The crop top isn't great but he's got that belt to stop most embers. Besides he's probably not the type to yelp every time one lands on him like I am.

if he pulls the scarf over his mouth & nose it'll help delay him getting lung cancer in the death trap of a smithy Wonderstorm designed for him (my problems with it are a post all on their own. I have nothing against the artists, its pretty, but by all rights he should be dead)

There might also be a cultural aspect to his clothing:

I think the navy blue, the arm bands, the boot decorations, and his belt & tabard could all be symbols that mean "I am a metalsmith" in Moonshadow culture. (Quick side note, he's not technically a blacksmith. historically blacksmith means specifically iron workers. If anything he's a whitesmith since he usually works with silver.) We see it with the assassins, why not metalsmiths too?

Plus if you take a look at his forge in the art book, there's a design carved on it that looks almost exactly like the one on his tabard. Elements of it also appear on other parts of his clothing:

I suspect that this is some sort of symbol for metal working or fire protection. If he's in a guild it could be their symbol, or it could just be a wider cultural symbol. Either way it has a meaning that relates to the forge specifically. I couldn't find it anywhere else in the room.

I just realized that I never even brought up the metal hems on his sleeves. Then again what is there to say? It's metal, he's a metalsmith. It's pretty, he likes pretty things.

But what about the rule he completely breaks?

As I said, every moonshadow garment has some sort of wrap-and-secure construction to it-- except Ethari's clothes. I seriously doubt this is a metalsmith thing. Basic garment construction isn't a sensible way to differentiate your group within one culture. I fully believe Ethari is doing this on purpose. But why? That why gets even bigger when you realize that no other moonshadow elves we've met have brown eyes or periwinkle blue tattoos.

Put a pin in all that, I need to explain my interpretation of Moonshadow culture for this to make sense.

"Moon Primal creatures can be private and secretive, and are keenly aware of the power of appearances." - from the official website

"Moonshadow Elves obey a rather rigid, honor-driven culture." - from the wiki

To me this paints a picture of a fairly collectivist culture. They place a heavy emphasis on community and duty, two things that are usually more peaceful/simpler when you have cohesion within the group. Cohesion creates less conflict, less conflict makes your community more peaceful and your duty to it easier to complete.

But they know that this cohesion is- to an extent- only an act, so each person has a sub community where they don't have to act. Your inner self is for family and friends close enough to be family. (I honestly think they might have some sort of ritual to formally adopt friends as family) To everyone else you're supposed to put up a front that makes you seem more like everyone else.

OK back to the pin

Even without his clothes, Ethari is already visually different from everyone else. No other Moonshadow elves we've seen have tattoos or eyes the same color as his. It's a subtle difference but it is noticeable, and in a culture so focused on appearances people would notice. Most people's instinct would be to try to hide or downplay it, to prop up that front as much as they can. Yet Ethari doesn't put up a front, not to the extent that most people seem to. He's even accentuating his differences by dressing in a different style than them- and he's respected.

In my comm class the other day we were talking about groups, and one of the things that came up was that cohesion fosters sameness and diversity fosters innovation. Ethari is an innovator, it's literally his job. He invents the wingalings in bloodmoon huntress, Runaan and Rayla's weapons, and probably a bunch more stuff we haven't seen. Maybe for all they value appearances and fitting in, moonshadow culture still recognizes that people like him are important and they aren't as effective when they have to fit in. They can't be too out there (remember, Ethari only bends the rules rather than breaking them) but as long as they stay within a certain radius of the norm they can gain a lot of respect. I think this is what Ethari has done. The fact that his family (Runaan, Tiadrin, Lain) are all pretty traditional probably helped a lot. They keep him from pushing too hard on the edge of the box and he keeps them flexible.

That they aren't there anymore has probably exacerbated the rift between him and the rest of the silvegrove caused by Rayla's ghosting and whatever news has reached them from the storm spire.

I am so excited to see him in S6. I thought about adding some speculation about what his new design might look like, but I honestly don't think he'll have changed that drastically aside from his hair. My biggest question is honestly whether or not he's still in The Silvergrove.

Bonus:

I bet that some of Ethari's relative weirdness rubbed off on Rayla. She didn't have many friends as a kid so, when she wasn't in school or with the assassins, it makes sense that hung out with Ethari a lot. Since he's less strict than Runaan she was probably only comfortable completely unmasking with him. He heard about all her crushes, fears, and insecurities that Runaan didn't. Which goes a long way to explaining why Ethari was the only one who could see she wouldn't be a good assassin; she was hiding those traits from everyone but him.

This also explains some of why he was so willing to believe that she ran away. Ethari saw all of her vulnerability, but he didn't see all of her strength. While she was out training and facing her fears with Runaan, Ethari was in the smithy and only heard about their exploits after the fact. Neither of them saw all of who Rayla is, but both of them thought they did and had to find out that they were wrong in just about the most heartbreaking way imaginable.

#this started as me going “how actually practical are Ethari's clothes?” while I was forging that touchmark stamp #and spiraled out of control from there #also we're ignoring Redfeather because a) she was ghosted b) I didn't remember she existed when I started this #ethari #tdp #the dragon prince #tdp ethari #tdp meta #character analysis #rayla #tdp rayla

46 notes · View notes