#source: silence of the lambs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vixstarria · 6 months

Text

Admit that you love me

Connected with my other headcanon fics, but works as a standalone as well.

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, Astarion is bad at feelings, Gale is bad at everything

Bit of angst, bit of comfort, bit of fluff, love, banter, humour and all the other good things. Non-explicit. Early Act 2.

Approximately 2,000 words.

You traversed the shadow-cursed lands. Earlier this week, Elminster had showed up, eaten all your cheese, essentially told Gale to kill himself and promptly went back to wherever he had come from. And you thought 200 year-old vampires were erratic... You hoped you would never come across a vampire wizard.

It was an average evening in camp. You and your companions were passing time by the fire before calling it a day.

You were sitting on the ground before the campfire, as Astarion sat on a fallen log behind you, trying to massage a crick out of your neck and shoulders. You weren’t even being obnoxious about it, your neck had genuinely been killing you and he was trying to alleviate the pain and discomfort.

You’d closed your eyes and leaned forward a bit, trying to give him better access, when a remark from Gale caught your ear, and the hands stilled.

“It’s truly heartwarming to see how well Astarion takes care of his livestock.”

In the sudden silence that ensued, before you had even registered your own emotions for the insult, your immediate instinct was to seize the hand that was still on your shoulder, and say:

“If you kill him, he’ll take us all with him.”

It turned out to be the right call, as Astarion re-sheathed a dagger you hadn’t even noticed he had drawn (or had on him), and gave your hand a small squeeze.

“I... I’m sorry, that was a poor joke.” Gale looked at the ground shaking his head. “If you can call it that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He started to get up. “I better-”

“Disrespect my lover or me again, and I will personally burn everything that you cherish, and rip out the throat of every person you hold dear.” Astarion’s voice was an icicle. “I won’t kill you… But I will fulfill my need to hear you scream.”

Astarion gave your hand another squeeze and got up. He met your eyes as you turned back to look at him, and gave you a barely perceptible shake of the head before stalking off.

Gale, who had stood silently through Astarion’s cold outburst, wordlessly turned and left in the opposite direction.

You still sat on the ground, elbows on your knees, eyes shut, now rubbing your temples. Great. Perfectly normal (in accordance with your definition of ‘normal’, anyway) evening ruined. No Astarion, Gale at a new lowest low, awkward silence, you still with a crick in your neck, and now an unfolding headache. All while feeling like you’ve been spat on.

“Is that what you all think?” you asked quietly, still rubbing your temples. “That I’m a stupid lamb offering myself to a wolf for slaughter?”

To your surprise, it was Lae’zel who answered.

“It is true that the vampire is a predator, and there is hunger and lust in his eyes when he looks at you. But there is also love and yearning. You both carry it. My people are proficient in recognising it, for we are taught from a young age to quash such notions at their conception. Love and attachment make you weak. But you two, you have turned it into a source of resilience and strength. The wizard is as delusional as he is out of line.”

You were completely taken aback by what you just heard.

Firstly, by the fact it came from Lae’zel. But also... You hadn’t actually exchanged words of love with each other. Oh, there were the ‘my love’s, but that was more of a silly casual pet name that had started long ago. You both regularly addressed Karlach as ‘love’ as well. It didn’t mean much.

But to have a githyanki set it out for you so candidly...

“...I couldn’t have said it better myself, Lae’zel,” spoke Shadowheart.

“Aw, none of us doubt you or fangs,” added Karlach. “Hells, sometimes I worry my heart will have a meltdown not from exertion, but from seeing you two.”

You hoped no one could tell your face had coloured scarlet by the light of the fire.

“Gale just hasn’t been himself lately. I’m sorry you and Astarion took the brunt of it. I’m sure he feels awful about this.” Wyll apologised as though he had anything to do with it. “I better go speak to him, make sure he knows we understand.”

You excused yourself and went to your tent soon after as well.

Astarion didn’t return that night. On checking his tent, you noted he did take his weapons with him, though. That’s all you really needed to know. He could take care of himself. After all, he was one of the horrors other people were scared to encounter in the shadows. Still, when you finally fell asleep, it was only due to sheer exhaustion.

It was morning when he finally showed up at the entrance to your tent. Probably. You could barely tell night from day in this blasted place. You were sitting cross-legged on your bedroll, getting ready for the day ahead. You didn’t get up to greet him as you continued to fasten the belts and buckles of your equipment.

“I was worried.”

“I know,” he said simply. When you didn’t say anything, he sighed and added: “And I was angry. Furious, actually. Murderous. I didn’t want you to see it.”

You bit back a swear.

“I can-”

“Before you say you can handle my anger, that’s not the point. I don’t want you, of all people, to be exposed to it to begin with.” You frowned and he continued:

“When everyone keeps telling you you’re a monster, eventually you no longer want to prove them wrong – you want to show them just how much of a monster you can be. And you’re the only person who doesn’t think that about me. Why on earth would I do anything that might make you look at me the same as they do..?”

It broke your heart a little to realise that that’s what he thought.

“They don’t think you’re a monster, Star,” you said imploringly. “Gale said something stupid which he immediately regretted, yes, but the rest of them were on our side.” You made sure he was taking in what you were saying. “On your side.”

“...They were?” Astarion’s eyes softened.

“Yes. Lae’zel gave a whole speech, just about.”

“Ugh,” Astarion curled his lip. “And I thought you were serious for a moment there.”

“I am serious! She was quite poetic about it, actually.”

Astarion suddenly took a step back out of your tent, looking up at the sky in alarm.

“What is it?!” you reached for your bow.

“Oh just checking for flying pigs...” he stepped back into the tent. “...So what did she say? I’m intrigued.” He still looked skeptical, but much less guarded than before.

You paused your preparations, set down your weapons and met his gaze.

“She said she sees the love in your eyes.”

You weren’t about to tell him that she actually said she saw love in your eyes as well.

“Oh...” Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback. “That is quite poetic for a githyanki.”

You continued to study him without saying a word.

“...Oh no. No no no.” He waved a finger at you. “I see EXACTLY what you’re doing, and I am NOT falling for it.”

“What am I doing? I’m not doing anything.”

“Exactly! You’re not saying anything, forcing me to fill the silence until I start stammering like a fool and admit that I love you!” He paused, turned away and huffed, before turning back to look at you, hand on his hip. “And that is NOT on the agenda!”

“You’re not going to admit it?”

Astarion looked away again, wrung his hands, opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and looked back at you, cocking his head to one side before finally saying:

“...Not today..?”

You burst into a laugh. How long had your heart been pounding?

“Gaaaaaale! Old buddy, old pal!” you heard from Astarion.

You lifted your head to see Gale approaching.

Fucking Gale, you thought.

You got up to face Gale at the entrance to your tent.

“Morning! I would say ‘good morning’, only that would be a lie for all of us, in light of-”

“Oh for the love of all that is unholy!” Astarion cut him off. “Spare me your words and drawn-out explanations, and I will spare you my daggers. We don’t need that. We can sort this out like two mature, adult men.”

The next thing you knew, Gale was on the ground, looking in disbelief at the blood dripping onto his hand from a possibly broken nose.

“There. Now, for all intents and purposes, this matter can be resolved, if you wish. As previously advised, in the event of any further disparagement of me, Tav, or the nature of our relationship, I WILL be committing arson and turning everyone you love and care for inside out, Tav being exempt, of course. Now that this has been explained to you, if you accept, the damage you just took to your face can serve as compensation, to the full and final satisfaction and discharge of the idiotic shit you said yesterday. Are we in agreement?”

Astarion held out a hand

You stood back observing Astarion, your arms crossed. Theatrics to cattiness to violence to legalese within the span of a minute. How flustered and giddy was this man?

Gale was still on the ground, also looking at Astarion incredulously.

“I sometimes forget that you used to be something far worse than a vampire.”

Gale accepted the offered hand and got up.

“And you, Tav? Would you like to break the spare lute over my head, perchance?”

Astarion perked up at that, but you were quick to protest:

“No, no, let bygones be bygones and all that...”

“Then it is settled,” Astarion interjected. “Well then, off you go, friend.”

“Actually,” you cut in. “I think Shadowheart needs to rest a while. Gale could come with us today instead, seeing as you’ve sorted everything out. Gale, are you up for it?” you asked as Astarion stared at you in disbelief.

After the borderline sleepless night you’d had because of these two idiots, the least they could do was entertain you by suffering each other’s company.

“...Sure, let me just ah... do something about the blood. I’ll only be a minute.”

And just like that, you and Astarion were back on your usual bullshit, causing a loud ruckus as you headed out of camp, him on your heels.

“I object! It’s ME or HIM! And if it’s him, you can give me my ring back!”

Wyll snapped his head in surprise to look at you two, as Karlach gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

Astarion paused as if to say something to them, then waved a dismissive hand and continued walking after you.

“...Because I am NOT dying in camp like a sitting duck just because HE couldn’t keep you safe!”

“It’s my ring now, and you’re both coming! And so is Lae’zel. Lae, are you ready?”

“Always,” came an unperturbed answer from the githyanki, as she got up to follow you.

“There. She can lecture you on poetry, between the fighting.”

Astarion had finally caught up to you.

“You cheeky pup,” he said only loud enough for you to hear, his red eyes narrowed and a wry grin on his face. “We’ll need to have a long talk about your behaviour.”

“Is that on the agenda? For today?”

Astarion swore under his breath, smiled to himself and fell back again.

Yep, definitely flustered, you thought, fighting a stupid grin that was threatening to take over your face.

Oh you were going to enjoy this day.

~~~~~

Author’s note:

Sorry bloodweave gang, my headcanon is Gale and Astarion are constantly beefing.

I wanted to work in the “disrespect me again” line from Early Access – although I ended up altering it. A lot.

~~~~~

Next in series - Confession

OR, chronologically appropriate smut - Seeing stars

Series master list

AO3

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #gale dekarios #astarion fanfic #fkn gale

777 notes · View notes

perpetual-stories · 1 year

Text

How to Use Character Flaws to Enrich Your Writing

Readers identify with characters who are relatable and peppered with imperfections. When a writer crafts believable character flaws, they open the door to interesting conflict, engaging personalities, and ample character development.

What Is a Character Flaw?

A character flaw is a trait that prevents a character from being perfect.

Sometimes this fatal flaw leads to a character’s demise or at least undercuts their character strengths and presents a prominent setback they must overcome.

Any character can have flaws, including a protagonist, antagonist, love interest, confidant, deuteragonist, tertiary character, or foil.

Why Give Your Characters Flaws?

A character’s flaws serve many functions, particularly ensuring that the character is relatable and engaged in inner conflict. Carefully crafted flaws can do the following:

Make the character relatable to an audience of readers or viewers

Present an obstacle that must be overcome during the course of the story

Create character weaknesses that another character in the story can exploit

Create an obstacle that prevents a character from immediately solving a conflict

Set off a character arc that allows a character to grow and change

Provide quirks that distinguish characters from one another and make them memorable to audiences

Emphasize broader themes that are amplified via specific character flaws

Create comedy—from Homer Simpson to Michael Scott, the best comedic characters are hopelessly flawed

What Is an Example of a Character Flaw?

In the Thomas Harris novel The Silence of the Lambs (and its subsequent film adaptation by director Jonathan Demme), Hannibal Lecter has what could charitably be called a personality disorder: He is a cannibal and a sadomasochist.

Lecter’s character flaws, however, are somewhat offset by his brilliant mind, which he uses to help the main character, Clarice Starling, apprehend a serial killer tormenting Appalachia.

Lecter is an example of how in fiction, even characters with the most severe personality flaws can embody a degree of three-dimensionality.

12 Character Flaws to Use in Your Writing

The array of possible character flaws is boundless. Here are 12 time-tested character traits that inherently generate conflict:

Perfectionism: A finicky perfectionist is never satisfied. They can rarely accept that a project has been completed, and they rarely accept the finished work of others. Perfectionism is a great flaw for a detective, a doctor, or an office worker.

A know-it-all attitude: An arrogant, self-righteous know-it-all has great potential to fall flat on their face, whether comically or dramatically. High school stories often feature a know-it-all foil to the main character. These archetypes work particularly well in comedy, especially when the know-it-all suffers from a broader lack of intelligence.

An inability to move on from the past: Many police procedurals and superhero stories feature heroes haunted by their past, such as murdered parents or the victim they could not save. This major flaw presents obstacles as they work to solve crimes—but when the obstacles are overcome, the story’s happy ending feels earned.

Laziness: Laziness is a flaw that leads to obvious conflict, some of which can be quite funny. Lazy sloth detectives and doctors can be either hilarious or the source of grave conflict, depending on the tone of your storytelling. A lazy character in a position of authority can generate a lot of tension for your plot.

Physical vulnerability: Some characters suffer from a physical weakness that can escalate into a fatal flaw. Superman’s tendency to wilt in the presence of kryptonite hamstrings him, while the great warrior Achilles was undone by his fabled heel.

Low self esteem: People who fundamentally dislike themselves make for fascinating characters. Jesse Pinkman’s self-loathing leads him down all sorts of dangerous paths in Breaking Bad. On the other end of the spectrum, the young adult author Judy Bloom has crafted gorgeous character arcs from youthful characters, like Linda Fischer in Blubber, who begin their journeys with low self esteem.

Vanity: Vanity is the undoing of many real world characters, and so it also works beautifully in fiction. Politicians, artists, models, and athletes in stories are routinely undone by vanity as they gradually develop a bad reputation. Ordinary people can be wrecked by vanity as well, so it’s a common character flaw in many forms of fiction.

Lust for power: Unbridled thirst for power has undone many a character, from Mr. Kurtz in Heart of Darkness to Frank Underwood in House of Cards. Power is intoxicating, and characters who seek it are both relatable and easy sources of conflict.

Lack of maturity: Many character arcs begin with a person in a hopeless state of immaturity who then grows over the course of the story. Immaturity can also manifest as rudeness, like when a bigmouth makes tactless remarks.

Fear: Common in action dramas and comedies alike, fear—be it cowardice in the face of duty, a specific phobia of spiders, or an irrational fear—is a great character flaw that naturally drives a story.

Hedonism: Some characters cannot resist temptation, whether that involves an illicit drug, food, or a fetish. Sometimes this excessive desire is due to addiction—it’s no secret that many famous protagonists are alcoholics—and sometimes it’s due to a general lack of self-restraint and willpower. For a character like Fyodor Karamazov in The Brothers Karamazov, hedonism and lechery make him both tragically amusing and subtly sinister.

A gruff exterior: Some characters seem initially impenetrable because they are taciturn, standoffish, or even hostile and lewd. Typically these characters house a vulnerable interior beneath their coarse shell. Bringing out that vulnerability and lack of self-worth can be a strong driver of story.

Please like, comment, reblog and follow for more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writersconnection #writerscommunity #short story #storytelling #writersupportingwriters

3K notes · View notes

pitchannawarmsourblackhearts · 1 year

Text

Anna: You see a lot, Pitch. But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself? What about it? Why don’t you - why don’t you look at yourself and write down what you see? Or maybe you’re afraid to.

#pitchanna #anna #incorrect quotes #source: silence of the lambs

2 notes · View notes

incorrect-clannibal · 3 months

Text

Hannibal: They say love is an uninvited guest. Clarice: Is that why you broke into my house without my permission?

#clarice starling #hannibal lecter #clannibal #clarice x hannibal #hannibal x clarice #silence of the lambs #hannibal #source: tumblr

131 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 19 days

Text

sick w/ addams!matz

whilst i’m busy writing part two to opposites attract, here is just some silly fluffy stuff!!

——————————————

you’re sick. flu, by the feel of it. with your heavy head, sniffly nose and permanent fatigue, there’s very little else it could be. it’s unfortunate, but nothing you couldn’t deal with by yourself. a few days bed rest and you’ll be fine.

your lovers don’t quite agree. all it took was for the word ‘fever’ to leave your lips and suddenly all hell broke loose. you should’ve known that the second you brought it up to seonghwa it would be blown entirely out of proportion. the man is level headed about a lot of things; you are not one of them.

it had been a military operation with him the second the word ‘fever’ dropped from your lips. for three days now, you’ve been under strict instruction to not leave their bed, trapped there like a prisoner with hongjoong watching over you like a hawk. if you step a toe out of line, you get a sharp slap to the back of your thigh and a quick scolding. its hardly enough to keep you in check, especially when your regular punishments are so much heavier, but hongjoong is also under his husbands strict instructions to be as gentle with you as humanly possible.

it’s boring.

of course, you love talking with hongjoong when he has the time to join you in bed, but he still has to work. laying for hours at a time just staring at the back of your daddy’s head as he writes letters to his clients is nothing short of dull. he expects you to stay silent so he can concentrate on what he’s writing. you thought it to be a silly rule until you disobeyed on the first day and he moved himself and his work to the armchair out in the hallway; he could still listen in for any sign of you trying to escape the confines of their bed, but he could finally get enough peace and quiet to concentrate on his work. those few hours were so boring that you quickly made the decision that you could manage silence for a few hours if it meant that you weren’t alone.

sometimes seonghwa would come and visit you in the room, although with you being sick, you found that he had far less free time than usual. in between working in the greenhouse and cooking up cold remedies in the kitchen, he found that he actually got to spend very little time by your side. he trusted hongjoong to follow his very specific instructions on how to take care of you (make sure you’re drinking fluids, make sure you’re always warm, replace the cloth on your head every 1-2 hours) but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be more active in your care routine himself.

its the morning of the 3rd day than seonghwa finds his wish coming to fruition, and unfortunately his time being stretched even thinner. of course, he doesn’t blame hongjoong for having to leave the house for work—antiquities don’t source themselves, after all—but he can’t help but feel a little stressed with the notion of adding ‘caring for darling’ onto his already long list of tasks. from what he’s heard from hongjoong, you still like to push your luck even when your head feels like a furnace and you’re coughing your lungs up. he hardly has the time to guard you like hongjoong does, so as he tucks your still sleeping body into the almost empty bed, he decides that he’ll just have to hope that maybe today you’ll see sense and behave. it’s a long shot, but he’ll just have to trust you for today.

ten minutes later, he finds that trust being broken when he hears a bump from the bedroom. he sighs, closing his eyes in frustration as the sound of a door creaking open echos through the house. the slapping of bare feet against a slick wooden floor soon follows and before he knows it, you’re coming down the stairs. it’s a good job that seonghwa isn’t an angry person, finding it an ugly emotion that doesn’t reflect well on anyone. you’d be in for a hellish day otherwise.

‘you’re supposed to stay in bed, little lamb,’ he hums as you show your face in the door to his greenhouse. you look wide eyed and bewildered, your brain still clearly muddled by sleep. it’s cute, and he finds himself smiling though his annoyance. you hobble towards him wrapped in the black knitted bedspread he’d lay over you not moments before, and he finds himself unable to control the chuckle that bubbles up within him. he lays the watering can down on the table and spreads his arms for you to topple into. ‘tell me why you’re flaunting my rules so carelessly, darling.’

you bask in his warmth for just a second, feeling safe and happy in his lithe arms. he’s so much gentler with you than hongjoong is; even when you’re sick your daddy likes to manhandle you to be exactly where he wants. it’s not like you’re complaining, though. you like the way it makes you feel when he treats you so helplessly.

‘woke up alone,’ you mutter into seonghwa’s chest. the lace of his blouse was scratchy against your too-hot face, but you can’t seem to pull yourself away from him. you just want him close, even if you have to sacrifice your comfort for the sake of it. ‘hongjoong wasn’t there and you weren’t there and i’m lonely.’

any frustration that resided within seonghwa slowly melts away with your confession. you’re just too sweet for him to stay upset with, especially when you’re so dopey and reliant on them.

‘hongjoong had to work, lamb; your daddy can’t stay at home all the time,’ soft fingers lace themselves into your hair, gently petting you like you’re some sort of kitten. he supposes you do rather look like one when you’re wearing your collar. you’re just so sweet and submissive when you sit by seonghwa’s feet at he puts it on for you. it’s a shame you’re too sick for that right now, your skin too sensitive and the collar too tickly; it would only serve to irritate you. ‘and you know that i have to work as well. i have to take care of the house, the plants and cook an unheavenly amount of chicken noodle soup for you. i wish i could stay in bed with you, but i can’t.’

and you understand, of course you do, but that doesn’t mean you’re happy with it. you want hongjoong to be home, and you want seonghwa to have less to do. you want to be stuffed between them from the moment you wake up to the moment you sleep, doted on and cared for by your two lovers. the notion of that not being possible just doesn’t seem to compute in your fever-addled brain. you whimper into seonghwa’s chest.

‘oh, my precious little lamb,’ he coos, resting his chin on top of your head, ‘hongjoong will be home in a few hours, and i’m sure i can take a short break from my errands at some point. it’s hardly like you’re going to be alone for long.’

‘take a break now,’ you insist, ‘just for a little while…’

it’s a trap, seonghwa knows that. the moment he crawls back into bed with you, you’ll find some way of making him stay there until hongjoong gets home. either you’ll crawl onto him and refuse to let him go, or you’ll use your adorable charm to manipulate him into staying with you. still, he can’t find himself able to say no to you. he hums in agreement and pulls away from you slightly.

‘okay, little lamb,’ your face lights up and he grins. even with your sweaty forehead and slightly grey skin, he can’t help but think you’re the prettiest creature to walk the earth, ‘lead the way.’

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #matz x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #poly ateez #poly ateez x reader #opposites attract universe #hongjoong fluff #seonghwa fluff

298 notes · View notes

peachdues · 4 months

Text

IN THE NETHERWOOD — PART IV TEASER

Werewolf!Sanemi x Red Riding Hood!Reader

A/N: hehehe. After the cliffhanger of Part III, have a taste of the pain to come in Part IV as our Huntsman and his Lamb try and navigate the fallout of Douma’s tricks

He stood before the crackling hearth, his back turned toward you and stiff.

It hit you that he’d only called you by name since you first regained full consciousness.

Not Lamb.

Not Sweetling.

Not even my love.

Just your name; only your name.

Your breath came hard and fast through your nose. The Wolf standing before the fireplace must have heard the sudden increase in your heart rate, for he turned quickly toward you, face grave with concern.

“What is it?” He crossed the room in two strides, kneeling beside the bed. His hands hovered awkwardly over your body beneath the covers, uncertain whether he should touch you.

“Sanemi,” you croaked, panic bubbling in your gut the longer he refused to meet your eye. “Kiss me.”

He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing hard before he opened them again, still fixed hard on the bed. “You’re still recovering, Lamb.”

Lamb. That affectionate nickname should have brought you comfort, but it only left something cold and bitter sitting in your gut. The knuckles of your fingers whitened with the ferocity of your grip on the quilt.

You were losing him.

“Please,” you whispered, brokenly. “Please, Sanemi — I’m —,” You’d almost begged him for it — for something he’d never withheld from you before unless it was to tease.

You did not know what stung more: that you’d almost begged for a simple act of affection that he seemed damn near unwilling to give, or that your dignity was preserved only because words died in your throat before you could choke them out.

Pathetic. You felt utterly pathetic.

With a quiet sigh, Sanemi brought a hand to rest softly against your smooth cheek, his thumb stroking along its curve. He finally lifted his eyes to meet your pleading stare before he leaned in, closing the distance between you.

His lips against yours were so soft, so familiar, and yet so hesitant.

You drank him in, bandaged hands rising to rest on either side of his jaw as you moved your lips feverishly against his. Sanemi indulged you for only a moment, but as soon as your teeth grazed his bottom lip, it was over.

He broke away, moving to brush his lips over your eye, your cheek, and then your forehead, his thumb stroking softly along the unmarred skin of your jaw.

“Rest now, Y/N. You’ve had a long day.”

“Do you love me?” You couldn’t help but blurt. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, loud and suffocating all at once. Each tick of the nearby clock felt like a stake to the chest, one that slowly chiseled away at your heart piece by piece. “Still?”

Something tortured flitted across the Huntsman’s face. His hand reached to brush a lock of your hair behind your ear, but it faltered midair, Sanemi pulling his arm back tight to his side.

“More than anything.” He whispered, but his voice sounded hollow.

Just like his answer.

—-

Two weeks after your return home, you awoke in the middle of the night with a start.

At first you were confused; you had not been having a nightmare, so there was no reason for you to jolt awake as violently as you had, heart thumping and throat tight.

Curiously, you felt something warm and wet trickle down your cheek. With a frown, your fingers rose hesitantly to brush away the wetness, and to your bemusement you realized it was a tear.

Another slipped out of your eye, followed by another, until you were fighting choking, mournful sobs though you could not identify the source of your melancholy.

You shifted slightly in bed, noting that, once again, Sanemi was not laying beside you. You rolled your head to the side, your eye squinting as it combed the room for your mate.

You spied him on his makeshift bed upon the cabin floor, where he spent most nights. To your surprise, his eyes were open and fixed hard on the ceiling, his arms folded behind his head.

The Huntsman, it appeared, had not noticed you stirring, apparently too lost in whatever thoughts plagued his mind. As your eye adjusted in the dark, you noticed the way a small sliver of moonlight that shone through the foggy glass on the window reflected off something crusted along his cheeks, making his skin glisten.

You quietly rolled your head back and away from Sanemi, the pieces of your heart sinking into your gut as you struggled to reclaim sleep.

A similar pattern emerged during the nights that followed; you would startle awake, alone in your bed, seemingly without reason, your mate in the same position upon the floor.

And with a tired hand, you would wipe away Sanemi’s woeful tears as they trailed down your cheek.

The next part is full of angst/pain/hurt/comfort and of course, more plot. See you soon!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #in the netherwood

180 notes · View notes

ratcandy · 3 months

Text

also am I interpreting Shamura as a follower correctly Have they almost completely lost their memories? With only brief glimpses coming through here and there?

because that is Devastating, right. Like, all around. Surely someone else has realized this right.

how is Kallamar going to reconcile for asking Shamura be killed first. how is Nari going to have any conversation about anything at all

Does Shamura even remember who any of them are?? I mean they remember Narinder to some extent (referring to him when Aym and Baal are revived) but what of the youngest like Leshy? Who they had the least time to know when they were still a Bishop?

and again with Nari . He definitely seemed to respect Shamura the most (as in his opinions on the rest of his siblings are not all that high), even going silent when brought silk from their domain rather than making any sort of snarky comment . Asking if they wept when they were slaughtered and now they're here. But they don't remember anything. Or perhaps only remember small things for brief moments

and it was THEM who influenced Nari, it was THEM who asked for him to be chained, it was THEM who led to ALL OF THIS. and now. Now what. Now there's nothing that CAN be said. There's no forgiveness that can be shared. There's no explanations to be given. Narinder is furious for the betrayal they cast upon him but what can he do. How can he express that when the Shamura he knew is barely there

(and not to mention HE was the one to PUT THEM into that state)

Like on one hand they now get to exist in an almost blissful ignorance, no longer weighed down by grief and regret for all they'd done, but on the other. like

They must be so confused. And to some extent maybe frustrated. They appeared in the middle of nowhere, dragged out of an eternal torment that they only remember through brief horrible flashes compounded with a tidal wave of guilt and sorrow that they can't. Remember the source of. and what?

They just live here. They work here. They worship a Lamb. They don't know why, but they suppose that's what they're meant to be doing. That's what everyone's telling them.

Save for these four strangers who keep approaching them and telling them otherwise. Claiming to be their siblings, begging for them to remember them, when all they can do is stare back because. Who are these people? Why can I vaguely feel a sense of comfort and warmth around them, as though they should mean something to me?

And sometimes they do remember. Sometimes a moment of clarity hits them and they laugh in fond remembrance of Heket's fierce temper, and how she was SO upset to no longer be the spoiled youngest when... someone else arrived, whomever that might've been. But then it's strange... Why can't they remember Heket's voice?

They swear they remember her so clearly. If they squint, the silent frog sat next to them looks a lot like her, but she would never sit in silence like this, surely. And she'd been so small back then; just a feisty little child.

Maybe they're mistaken. Maybe it's been a long time since Heket existed.

They're not all that certain. But they do know that they keep getting very obviously glanced at by a squid across the way. One who needs them to speak up, or else he can't seem to hear them. They're not sure why they knew that innately upon meeting him. Perhaps it was the sight of his tattered ears that gave it away. Of course, that must be it.

Regardless, his wary side-eyes are nothing compared to the bright red ones in the dark.

The ones that bore into them with such ferocity that they feel they should be burning beneath the gaze. But they can't tell with what emotion they're being perceived with.

All they know is that, when those three eyes cut through the veil of night to stare at them.

They feel somehow remorseful.

#like how do you begrudge someone who genuinely cannot remember anything. Not only about what they've done but even #who they are #you can get angry with them and tear them down for all they've done but what will that accomplish. they don't know what you're talking abou #all they can do is respond with empty apologies #and it's not like they're completely gone. They're not an empty husk devoid of personality #And that makes it harder because it's like nothing's changed but they can't. Remember you #Or what they've done to you #Or what they've done to anyone #and it sucks. It sucks for you. It sucks for the one who is at a loss as to who they even ARE #and you shouldn't be focusing on your own agonies here because THEY'RE the one with their MEMORIES GONE #and yet #clamtalk #ok. something came over me there. sorry #cult of the lamb #cotl shamura #watch me have completely interpreted them wrong somehow shGLKSJDGH

71 notes · View notes