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bits-of-bedlam-writing · 8 months

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That's Not Yours

Very trigger light, mentions of sex, but a moment of blood drinking. Fair warning tho, ya gotta read the earlier chapter or you won't understand what's up with my weird magic items.

Things had been largely peaceful for a moment. Keya and her companions settled into camp just across from the last light inn and took some time to find their bearings in this cursed place. The judgment could be made that Astarion and Keya were letting themselves get distracted in eachother, often carrying on together in the early morning and late into the night. But there were perks to only needing four hours rest and they'd earned it.

One unsettling thing badgered at Keya though, the drow woman. She appeared wherever they went and watched them blatantly. The hungry way she looked at Astarion was especially bothersome, even more so when she realized that it unsettled him as well. No, if they were to accomplish anything, this issue needed to be delt with.

Hoping for a peaceful resolution but not counting on it, she sought out Karlach. Her non-judgmental support had been an amazing gift that Keya relied upon often. "Will you come along with me love? Nothing to exciting, I just need to figure out that woman who's been making eyes at us."

The large tiefling drained her ale and stood, shaking the ache from her shoulders. "No problem. She's been givin me the creeps to be honest."

Astarion, of course, appeared by her side like a shadow as she made ready to leave. It had become their comfortable custom, giving eachother space in their relatively safe camp, surrounded by their friends, but neither ventured far without the other. Exception being when they curled into the often-laundered bedrolls and blankets that they shared.

She set off to seek out the woman, expecting it to be easy, having seen her everywhere around the towers since they arrived. But it took longer than she'd thought. She tried so hard to set aside the bias she knew she held against their kind, but when they acted so untrustworthy...

Finally though, they found her. Surrounded by an assortment of laboratory equipment, all dingy, wreaking of stale blood and an odd electric smell. She caught how Astarion wrinkled his nose momentarily before composing himself.

The drow lit up upon seeing them enter the dank chamber. "Oh, hello." She gestured broadly around her, "Welcome. I am Araj Oblodra, trader in blood and the sanguinous arts. It is a pleasure to stand before a True Soul." Her eyes ran over Astarion, hunger plainly visible, "and your pale companion."

Keya was quiet as an unfamiliar sensation occurred to her. Disgust, but not her own. She knew instinctively that it was his. An odd effect of their artifacts, perhaps, allowing strong emotion to bleed over into eachother.

Had her silence become awkward, she worried. She hurried to correct it. "No need for True Soul reverence, I am Lorsha Athelmīr." She hid her shock and disgust as her "proper" name fell from her lips instead of her real one. Some kind of zone of truth fuckery. That had been why they couldn't find her. She wanted them here.

Her smile was wicked, her plan already baring fruit. "I'd like to offer my services, if you're willing." She held a syringe already and her words were heavy with more magic. She expected compliance and Keyas mind felt sluggish, amicable.

A swell of possessive anger in her mind blew the fog away just as Keya went to consent and hold out her arm. Her connection of Astarion felt palpable, she felt it reeling her mind back from the spell. Saving her. The idea of sharing her blood in general revolted him, and with this creature even more so.

Services, of course not. She'd been raised on cautionary tales about fools that sought help from the twisted magics of the drow. Maidens wishing to improve their beauty made into beautiful specimens of drider. Warriors seeking strength in battle given volatile augmentation they drove them mad, turned against their allies.

No. She held on the thread of civility as best she could by brushing the question and attempted compulsion aside unanswered. She moved pointedly right to the heart of the matter. "What is your interest in my pale lover?" She let the last word fall heavily, intending it to sting. Astarion looked like he straightened himself, preening slightly. Karlach seemed to stifle a laugh.

If Keya side stepping the magic daunted her, she didn't show it. "He's a vampire, no? One of their spawn at least." She didn't seem bothered by the revelation, and that was sufficient cause for alarm.

While Keya was still staggered by the incursion into her mind, Astarion played at being unfazed effortlessly. He responded quickly "Don't worry, we're all friends under the Absolute." With a charming smile, "I won't bite."

"Oh, I'd prefer if you did." She responded cooly, eying him like a piece of meat. She regarded Keya again, "I assume he belongs to you?" As though she were discussing a horse or a rug.

She felt a tremble of fear from Astarion, clear as day, and her body responded without thought. She shifted her weight to one heel, poised to defend him. "Yes. All mine." She spoke with resolution. Her smile had turned wolfish, more a show of teeth than a show of friendliness. Her grasp on civility was wearing incredibly thin, but she held on tight.

"Well I hope you don't mind sharing him for just a minute." The way Araj laughed as she spoke grated on her. "Do you have a name spawn?"

Keya felt a pang of shame over their bond. She had a sickening awareness of how his gut clenched, being addressed as such.

"A-Astarion, but hold on-" He sounded off balance, fear threatening at the edges of his voice.

She cut him off, "Good. Now, Astarion," the lust that dripped from her tone made him recoil more into himself and Keya balled her hand into a fist at the feeling. "I've dreamed of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl."

As Keya wrestled her own jealousy and anger, she realized she recognized the feeling he shared in their bond now. She hadn't known why, but she'd felt it when she woke to Astarion having a nightmare.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered, incredulous. "You want to be bitten?

"To feel your life's blood slipping away? To dance on the edge between life and death? Yes, I want it." Having played on that edge, Keya understood this explanation. But not like this. This wasn't how it worked to surrender oneself to the hungers of another. Araj only cared for her own lustful needs.

"I'd even compensate you," she continued, mostly addressing Keya now. "A potion of legendary power that forever increases the strength of the one who consumes it."

At the mention of compensation, she felt a shift. His fear fell... toward her? Was he really worried she would ask him to do this against his will? She didn't even hear the rest of Arajs prattling, turning toward him, carefully keeping the drow in her periphery.

He caught her eye and found her concern. It seemed to bolster him. "I will have to..." He faltered, looking to her for reassurance again. "Decline."

Arajs face fell, disgusted. "Excuse me? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you're squandering it."

Keya faced her fully now, glaring daggers. Karlach took a couple steps closer, perhaps over eager to intercede.

"I've given you my answer." He sneered forcefully. Keya could tell it was a false bravado but gave no tell.

She addressed Keya again, oblivious to the fact that her forced smile held much more danger than pleasant disarmament now. "Can't you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?"

"He said no. There is nothing more to discuss." She responded flatly. Her hand rested on her wrist sheath, unsure if she wanted this to end here and now or in five minutes with Araj bleeding on the ground. She made up her mind when she felt Astarions relief. No, she just wanted to get him away from here.

"How very disappointing." She began to advance toward Astarion, continuing. "A lowly spawn should seek every-"

She was cut off as Keya stepped between them. In the sudden silence, everyone could hear the ominous hiss of her dagger leaving its sheath. Her body was still as a statue as she stared down the drow.

"He said," She spoke slowly, enunciation each sylable with care. "No." Her eyes narrowed and she looked the other woman up and down preformativly. She continued in a hissed whisper. "Besides, why would he want the likes of you when he can sup on me every single night?"

With an angry howl, the drow rushed toward her. She tried to duck her swing only to be wrenched upward by her hair. Nails like talons dug into her arm and scratched their way down to her blade, wrestling it out of her hand.

As she struggled to grab it back, she felt a searing pain in her palm and a pair of strong cold arms pulling her away. As her palm grew warm, she realized she was bleeding. Not badly, barely a graze. She strained against Astarion, trying to get free, to keep fighting, to beat the smug look off the vile creatures face with her bare hands.

Karlach picked Araj up by her tunic as though she were a small child and moved between them. "Calm down now, there's no need to fight." She set the drow down just a pace away but held her place between them.

Araj steadied herself against her worktable and looked down at the dagger she had in her hand. "No," she responded smuggely. "I suppose there isn't anymore." She turned the blade in the light, inspecting the crimson smeared down the side of it. Like a trophy.

Finally settling into his grasp, Keya felt a burning sense of possessiveness from him. He glared up at the woman, the anger in his eyes something feral. She responded spitefully, turning her face up into his and kissing his cheek softly. She held her bleeding palm up, offering it wordlessly.

She felt his low laugh, enjoying the way her wicked little mind worked. Cupping her offered hand in his own, he brought it to his lips. He licked from the finger where it dripped to the wound itself. Slowly, savoring. Letting himself moan in appreciation.

Karlach did not not suppress her giggle this time. "Cmon lovebirds," she walked past them to the door and waved for them to follow. "I'm not breaking up any more fights tonight."

Keya kissed his bloody lips one more time before she stood. They entwined their hands and began to walk away but Astarion stopped just short of the door as a thought occurred to him.

"Just a moment," he said quietly. "I want to try something." He turned back to the room and held up his ringed hand. With the slightest beckoning gesture, he felt it warm around his finger and watched as the blood lifted away from the blade. As if carried by a supernatural wind, it floated gently toward him. There wasn't much, just enough to coat his finger tip. But that would've been enough for her to preform her strange alchemy upon it.

"That's not yours." He stated simply before sucking it from his finger with a smile.

#astarion #astarion x oc #rewriting cutscenes until xbox gets their shit together #where's the rest of it?#its in tonight's writing fit

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wiseabsol · 2 years

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An assortment of thoughts on the ending of The White Vault and people's spicy reactions to it:

- The way people are hating on the ending is cringe-inducing. Is the ending ACTUALLY bad, or is it just an ending that you didn't like?

- Horror and mystery stories rarely give you all of the answers. Considering that the creators want to tell multiple stories set in the same universe (of their most successful show, btw), it's not surprising that they didn't give listeners of all of the finer details of what's in the vault. Especially when the next cycle is probably going to be a continuation of the plot, versus a separate story.

- What more do we really need to know about what's in the White Vault? The guardians spelled it out for us. The vault contains eldritch creatures who are sleeping right now, and only remain sleeping if they consume the lives (possibly the minds) of sentient beings. When they start to wake up because they're hangry, they cause natural disasters such as volcanoes and earthquakes. If they do this when they're just starting to stir, what do you think will happen when they wake up? The guardians also spelled that out: the creatures' current prison, Earth, would be destroyed, and they'd have to find a new prison somewhere else. Containment is the best option they have right now. However, based on the lingering threads from season five, I suspect it won't stay that way.

- Casner dying was a foregone conclusion, especially once we learned what the cost of his survival would be (a cost which, let's be clear, would have killed him and everyone else anyway). To be honest, I'm shocked that he survived the second season at all. In fact, I'd hazard to say that he only survived due to infighting among factions of guardians. Casner was dragged out of the site and into the ocean by an underwater guardian. If that hadn't happened, that cycle would have gone off without a hitch. Murray has now been taken in by a faction of oceanic guardians who want to leave behind the "old ways" and pursue something new. Jonas, or what was Jonas, broke the artifact of the Sidja Group when he left with Murray. Murray will be safer due to this, but it also reads like a middle finger to Hilda and her faction.

- A thought on Casner: I wish that the Documentarian had come clean with him and made the choice his. I think he would have given his life to save the world and his daughter. (This would, however, reduce the conflict between the Documentarian and her allies moving forward, and would have been a less impactful arc for her.) It would have also been nice to get a glimpse of the eggs in the Vault and see what effect, if any, the bomb had on them. I think that might have been a more satisfying wrap-up, though again, since they're essentially continuing the series, I'm not too fussed about this.

- To be honest, I think the writers got halfway through the season and realized they couldn't wrap it up in ten episodes. But they could end Casner's story in ten episodes, hence this being how The White Vault "ends." It started with his team and ended when the last of them died.

- They could have been clearer that Simon and Raimy are going to be fine. The ending did seem to be setting them up for another round with the guardians. Having the Documentarian herself contacting them to bring them into her team would have made their fate less ambiguous.

- A continuation isn't surprising and, I suspect, will require a time skip. There is a lot to dig into moving forward: the infighting among the families, the infighting among the guardians, the hidden families and their plans, and the Documentarian and Dragana's own resistance efforts. If Irene doesn't get involved I'll eat a boot.

- You probably won't have to subscribe to the Patreon to listen to the continuation of The White Vault. And even if you did, I wouldn't feel annoyed by that. It takes money to produce a show like this. Throwing them a few dollars for hours of entertainment is still a pretty sweet deal, and ensures that they can pay their very diverse cast.

- As an aside, I bet all of the people complaining about TWV also hated how The Magnus Archives ended, even though season five was where the show took the most creative risks and Martin and John's fate was thematically appropriate, since they became the mystery that John feared becoming.

#The White Vault #I'm spicy about the spicy hot takes #Like sure if that really was the ended that would be a letdown #But it's very clearly not #Which I knew as soon as they said they had a very special announcement about The White Vault at the end of the episode #Like calm down folks #It's not like the characters even did anything out of character or the plot jumped the shark

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ageofevermore · 4 years

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iron heart | tony stark

summery → tony stark’s daughter deals with the death of her father after he sacrificed himself to save the world.

word → 1626

warning(s) → mentions of death

add yourself to my taglist

She barely recognized the small, clammy child's hand that forcefully claimed a place within her enclosed fist, or the darkness that drew closer after every moment she spent uncaringly gazing out at the unchanging ripples in the water. Her heart felt empty as sunlight hit a shard of metal in the distance, only amplifying the grief that paralyzed her body. She hadn't left the dock since her mother had released the small bouquet of wildflowers and metal that had once been inside her fathers chest. The last physical part of him had been lost to the depths of a lake she'd never bother to explore, and she wasn't sure how that pain could ever ease.

The small person beside her was quiet, only soft sniffles and wobbly bottom lips offering reassurance that she wasn't alone in her sorrow. After alien invasions and multiple hydra takeovers, Madelyn Stark had surrendered her vulnerability to the prominent promise that her father could, and would, come home after it all was over and done with. But he hadn't come home after Thanos, and he never would walk through those wooden doors again. Anthony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, had laid down his life to save a billion others. His selfless actions had rendered both Madelyn and Morgan fatherless, and Pepper Potts completely devastated.

Years ago — before the iron man suit or the Avengers initiative — the story of metal strong as iron was just a saying of affection between a father and his daughter. All those nights ago, when Madelyn and Tony would sit beneath the stars on the roof of Stark Industries, tales of great adventure were conceived and after every great escape would come the words, my love is stronger then iron.

On nights when neither could sleep and the stars were hidden by clouds, they'd escape to the lab to forge a tangible representation of their inseparable bond. Durning the process, small hands would clench and grab at the neckline or Tony's shirt, offering advice on how they could make their Iron Heart project better.

When Madelyn had prompted the idea of Iron Man, it had been the result of cold medicine and delirium, though when the coughs and sneezes subsided her determination to succeed was driven and true. The small child with bright blue eyes and unruly brown hair formulated the perfect symbol of unity and strength using the schematics that had once been dedicated to their Iron Heart project.

Madelyn wished she could go back to those days, sit with her father for a while as they slaved over blueprints and schematics until the early hours of the morning. She wished it could all just be that simple again, without the threat of alien invasions and death lurking over her shoulder. Never would she take Iron Man away from the world, though on days like these when she was confronted with the worst, she wished the world would have considered that the man beneath the metal had a family waiting for his return.

Madelyn stood from the docks with a sudden inability to remain still. Her being was shaking, trembling from the sheer emotional distress she was under, though she paid it no mind, instead looking down at Morgan who was peering at her curiously. Grabbing onto her sisters hand again, she made her way back to the cabin where she and Tony had unpacked thousands of memories over the course of five beautifully uninterrupted years.

Wanda visibly flinched as Madelyn brushed past her, her sorrow thick and heavy and unbelievably painful as it flashed before the avengers eyes. The mood had already put a damper on the young sokovian, though the depth of which Madelyn felt for her father was sickening and heart-wrenching.

"Mad—" Pepper called for her step-daughter, watching the distant gleam in the girls blue eyes grow farther and farther from the reality they shared. Madelyn Stark was completely lost to the memory of days when her father was alive and well.

The sea of avengers sitting in what was once Tony Stark's living room watched warily as Madelyn brought Morgan towards a shelf of priceless artifacts. Pepper stepped out from behind the kitchen island, throwing a dish rag to the side with her eyebrows drawn in curiosity. Both girls were spitting images of Tony while in the depths of his worst funks, though now the promise of late night juice-pops wouldn't ease their misfortune. They'd have to find their own way out of this long, dark tunnel.

Madelyn reached up for the shimmering sculpture that would withstand the test of time, holding it tightly to her chest as if to relive the small moments of its assembly. They were moments she could barely remember, though she cherished what minuscule details she could muster. Morgan reached towards the iron heart sculpture as well, brushing her small fingertips across its surface with interest.

"Dad and I made this." Madelyn's voice broke, though her strength didn't falter as she bent down to further dissect the sculpture for Morgan. "Look." She gently turned the iron heart around, showing Morgan the two visible patches of missing metal.

The older of the two girls drew in a harsh breath as a new wave of unconsolable tears made their way upon her. Madelyn hadn't stopped crying since the news of Tony's death reached her ears two days ago, though each time she cried the weeping became more painful. She feared that the urge to crumble would never diminish, though she wouldn't let Morgan see her so weak.

Madelyn reached into her shirt, retrieving the small shard of metal that she wore proudly each day. The only difference now was that the identical shard was no longer clinging to the interior of the Iron Man suit. The small charm that symbolized so much was instead laying in Madelyn's pocket, begging to be worn by a man that would never breath again.

Reaching for the other necklace, Madelyn lifted it over Morgan's head, laying the cold chain atop of her sisters silky black dress. "Dad would want you to have it." Madelyn whispered gently, reaching to put the iron heart back into place on the shelf when a dim beam of light projected from the top.

Tony Stark grinned happy with himself as he paced around a very disheveled laboratory. Schematics and blueprints were thrown about everywhere, shards of spare metal and faulty wrenches tossed aside onto every available surface. The sun had set ages ago, instead a city skyline painted a picture just outside of the windows behind him.

"Does it work yet, Daddy?!" An excited voice called, small little hands grabbing onto the billionaires pants with utter impatience. Tony bent down to pick up the small child, a teasing grin on his face as she wriggled about anxiously. Strands of unruly brown hair fell into Tony's mouth when he attempted to answer, though he figured the small child had already figured it out when she leaned in impossibly close towards the microscopic camera. "Hi!" She waved, clambering higher up onto Tony's chest when she realized his hesitation to proceed. "Say hi, daddy!"

"Hi." Tony waved, a bright smile filling his features as he took appreciation for the small piece of technology that meant more to him then the billion dollar corporation he was standing within. “What do you say we include Jarvis?”

The small child shook her head, once again reaching for the silver heart with pure adoration. “No.” She exclaimed, once again waving to metal as if it had the limbs — or ability — to wave back. “But, we gotta tell it about us, Daddy. Like you tell Jarvis about your day.”

“Well, I’m Daddy—” Tony was cut off by loud giggles, small hands pressing against his cheeks as if to cut off his incessant lies.

“I’ll tell it!” The young child exclaimed, determination on her features as she wiggled down from her fathers arms and instead sat happily on the desk. “That’s Tony Stark, and I’m Maddie Stark! I’m four—”

This time it was Tony’s turn to cut off the little girl, tickling her sides as he spilled all her secrets to the small immobile metal structure. His smile, unchanged by trauma and heavy burdens, was bright as he continued to ramble on and on about favorite constellations and ice cream flavors. The world seemed so small in the moment, just him and his little girl to impress, though that reality wouldn’t stay the same for long.

“I think it’s breaking, Daddy.” The small girl spoke as she watched the iron heart begin to flash with sad, disappointment filled blue eyes.

The picture faded slowly, much to the younger version of Madelyn’s prediction, though sound was still spilling from the metal heart as she watched it brokenly. Every person in the room had lost Tony Stark, though the world was only missing Iron Man. Now, that fact seemed even more primitive.

“I love you stronger then iron.” The voice of a small child filled echoed around the cabin, Pepper Potts sniffling sadly as she watched her two daughters grieve in the silence of their own suffering.

“My love is stronger then iron.” The sound of Tony’s promise was the final undoing of all the composure Madelyn could muster.

The girl crumbled to the floor in absolute dispare, heartbreaking sobs shaking her body as the iron heart tumbled to the ground, slipping past Morgan’s fingers as she attempted to catch it. Unlike Madelyn, it didn’t shatter, but yet another scratch was added to its front.

Tony Starks love for his daughter outlasted the test of time, though inevitably he left them behind to collect the pieces of a world that was vulnerable to opposing threats.

#steve rogers #thor #x reader #tony stark #avengers #endgame #pepper potts #wanda maximoff #iron man #dad!tony #stark!daughter #stark!reader

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