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flametrashiraarchive · 9 months

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The people have spoken!

Douma x BIG Boobs

NSFW beneath the cut. F!reader.

It was winter, the temple was cold, and your nipples were pretty hard (lol) to miss.

Your yukata was thin and you weren't wearing anything beneath it to support your soft, heavy breasts as you lined up to get your breakfast.

You looked like a fertility goddess, and that got his devious little brain whirring.

Muzan wouldn't allow the Eternal Paradise cult to have more than 200 followers at any one time, so Douma couldn't draw too much attention to himself (*pout pout*)

BUT you, on the other hand... you could have as many as you could attract

And with assets like those... well...

Douma just STARED, his eyes all wide and his lips curved into a devilish smile. (You know that one bit in the upper moon meeting when he whips his head round to stare at Akaza? That's how he was with your tits.)

"Dear, come here," he beckoned you over to him as he sat cross-legged on his cushion.

The moment you drew close he pulled the chord holding up the curtains and closed you off from the rest of his disciples.

He stood, towering over you, crooking a finger beneath your chin and tilting your face toward him.

"Hm... pretty..." he murmured to himself. Yes you could definitely attract a following. You wouldn't even need to speak. You could just sit on a dais and women would flock to you hoping for your blessing.

It didn't matter whether it worked or not. He was going to eat them all anyway.

Perhaps he'd start a rumor that they'd have to line up and rub your breasts for good luck and fertility? Or suckle upon them? Oh the thought of that made his dick twitch.

"Are you cold?" he said softly, brushing his knuckle over your stiffened nipple.

Your gasp made him chuckle. Of course you adored him, you were his disciple after all. You would let him do whatever he wanted.

He could feel the pitter patter of your mortal heart, your pupils spreading like ink droplets as you gazed up at him. Oh and that precious little quiver of your bottom lip.

You were scrumptious. Just the sweetest little thing.

He wasn't going to eat you, but he NEEDED something of yours in his mouth.

And if you were going to be a goddess then you needed to start getting used to being treated like one.

He got down on his knees, gazing up at you with those kaleidoscope eyes and smiled. "May I warm you up, most radiant one?"

He asked so nicely he knew you wouldn't refuse. You nodded and gave a breathy "yes."

He opened your yukata, tugging it down to your waist and just

....

Oh...

......

Oh you were a feast (for his eyes)

Never once, across centuries of *ahem* encountering women had he seen breasts quite like yours.

None so exquisitely large and heavy and ohh~ so soft he couldn't help but fill his hands with them and just grin as they spilled over.

And your poor nipples were all hardened from the cold. That wouldn't do at all.

He latched on to one of them, pressing his tongue flat against your aching bud, cock pulsing at the gentle moan which left your lips.

You braced your hands on his broad shoulders as you put your head back and whined.

As a demon, Douma didn't need to breathe, but you were certainly making him pant as he lapped at your nipple.

He couldn't resist pressing the pointed tips of his fangs to your supple flesh; not hard enough to break the skin, but enough that it got his heart pumping.

When you whimpered he was done for.

He picked you up, put you on his cushion and knelt at your feet, taking your hand and putting it around his cock as he continued to suckle from you.

You didn't need to do anything more than form a tunnel with your fist for him to fuck up into.

He switched sides and began to suck the other, bringing his hands to the first to flick your slippery nipple with his thumb.

The way you attempted to stifle your moans against your hand was adorable to him.

And when you squeezed your thighs together to satiate the ache building between them, well... that wouldn't do. His Goddess wasn't about to go unworshipped now.

You were on the same page as he was, practically pulling him by the cock toward your entrance, muffling your wanton cries as the disciples went on with their breakfast on the other side of the curtain.

Oh but you both were feasting in your own way, him on your succulent tits, you stuffed full of his cock.

Your hands caressed his chest as he rutted against you and Douma raised his head to grin.

"Mine aren't quite as fat as yours."

"Not quite," you whispered. "But almost."

Cheeky little thing, he adored you more with every second.

He punished and rewarded you for that comment by thrusting hard against you, biting your nipple before lavishing it with slow, hungry licks.

"I've always promised you paradise, my darling," he said as he set a steady rhythm with his hips. "It's about time I saw that through."

Oh the wet slap of your sopping cunt swallowing his dick was a thing of beauty. Your muffled whimpers, the sluttish blush on your cheeks and staining your chest were art.

Douma was completely lost in you; his face buried between your breasts, biting, licking, sucking, groaning between them as your greedy pussy clenched and fluttered around his dick, dragging him over the edge with you.

You came together; his rainbow eyes rolling back as he pressed firmly into you pumping you full of his cum and claiming you as his own.

His Goddess whom he would not share.

"Now, wasn't that fun?" He cooed, pinching your nipples between his fingers and laughing. "Are you all warmed up?"

You nodded as you fought to catch your breath and Douma smiled.

"Good... because I'm just getting started."

#doma x reader #kny doma #doma x y/n #doma smut #doma #douma my beloved #kimetsu no yaiba douma #kny douma #demon slayer douma #douma x reader #douma smut #douma x y/n #douma x you #douma fic #douma

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

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Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: You’re birthed into a lively family in dire need of financial stability. As the eldest, you’re paraded around to be married and much to the dismay of your mother, you deny every hand offered. Yet unbeknownst to you, a man of great power and influence, Mr. Snow, is lurking in the shadows, waiting for his chance to have you. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: I hope u girlies eat this up, getting scrapped otherwise </3 — as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated!

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one

You’d much rather be at any other breathing, standing tower of gold trimmings and cracked pillars in existence.

At any building filled to the brim, simply overflowing with tiered skirts and lively grins… offered hands and gentlemen donned in fine suits, pockets suffocated by their own riches.

Yet you cannot be; for mama has ordered your presence to be most dire and mandatory. Although you did consider fleeing for the highest hilltop or feigning ill, you knew well that mama would find you or see straight through your falsehoods.

“My my, you look as though you’ve got something unsweet taped to your vicious tongue.”

You scowl at the blonde goddess most confusingly known to be your sister, and she only flips a ringlet of gold behind her poised shoulder.

“I think it to be quite clear how dreadful I find this. No need to observe aloud, sister.”

Her mischievous sapphire orbs glow with enjoyment, face pink and flushed — skin glistening under the gold lanterns flickering above.

You’ve watched happily from your seat, she’s sure to have danced with at least twenty men now.

No wonder mama has no fears or worries about Jane. She is just guaranteed to run off and be married within the upcoming season, it only makes for less of a distraction for mama— she’ll be glued to you like quill to paper.

It is not as though men do not want you. Oh, they do. Most ardently.

The trouble is only that you do not want them.

How horrible it is to be confined to four lonesome, frayed walls with nothing more than your books and your wit to keep you company. Married to a man who will most certainly be your senior, who busies himself with trivial matters and leaves you to be cold at home.

You would much rather drown yourself in the river stix than face a fate so melancholic.

You wish to be an odd thing, to run away into a cottage and spend your days parted from the people who surround you. You will read books of men made from dreams and you will find comfort in knowing that you will not be wed to a man who will only discontent you.

Of course, that would bring great shame upon your family, ruin them. So it seems you will end up a spinster or a governess. Both fates, although not as you may hope in your dreams, still offer more joy.

“Forgive me for having fun. It is not why I displease you however, perhaps if you picked your pretty head up from that book and stopped waving the hands that greet you away— you would know this. Mama has sent me. The duke, his sister and a dear friend of his have arrived here. Here! At our party, can you believe it?”

You huff out a sigh laced with annoyance, flipping to the next chapter of the dilapidated thing in your hands.

“No, I truly cannot.” You mutter, yet you cannot spare the fresh page even a glance before it is snatched from your clutched fingers.

A first edition, it shreds from its spine and erupts a gasp from both you and Jane. Mama’s cyan gaze is cold and anxious, feigning a tight smile.

That one was your favorite.

You do not lift your head, you do not notice the three towering men who look down upon your reserved oak wood bench in interest. Mama clutches the duke’s palm in an embrace of suffocation, yet you do not pay it even a little mind as you drop to your knees in your pretty dress to find the strayed page.

“My god, where are your manners — girl! Please do not pay her rudeness any attention, she gets sickly over these things. Sweetheart, up now— we can buy you another.”

Her voice is cold, devoid of any admiration. It is a lie, too. Your family cannot afford even a singular chapter of a new novel, let alone a first edition. You should be the one plagued by frustration, yet you feel as though it is you who is doing something wrong.

Even so, your eyes search the floor with great fervor, landing on a polished leather shoe which suffocates chapter twelve.

You wince, preparing all the words you can to kindly request the stranger lifts his big foot off of your paper. Yet they dissipate in the back of your throat.

The man, he bends at his knee as he frees the old thing from his sole. Your eyes lift to greet him, then.

He is a mess of blonde locks, unruly compared to that of the others with hair long enough. Theirs are tamed with ribbons, his only sits atop his head. His eyes are a cold color, one you cannot explain. They are commanding, fueled with great intensity.

Beyond all of this?

He looks most certainly miserable.

He does not wish to attend tonight, one glance proves this.

He spares you no words as he passes you the paper, eyes locked upon the contents of it. He offers you a hand of assistance, too.

You ignore it, wincing at the disgust your mother expresses.

You need no aid as you lift to your feet and dust the old thing off, he follows you — becoming a tower taller once he stands.

Jane, you are grateful now that she is still here. She laughs most uncomfortably, placing a polite hand upon your shoulder as she snatches the page away. Far more gently.

“My dear sister, may I introduce you to your grace — sir Sejanus Plinth of Newbury. Alongside him, his sister — Grace Plinth and their dearest friend, Coriolanus Snow, also of Newbury.”

You know well that you’ve just about boiled a vicious pot of scorching water, one you’ll have to face the many consequences of. A quick glance stolen toward mama proves it.

With a soft sigh, you curtsy to the men before you. A show of respect which you most certainly do not have for them. They are just as unimportant as the others, grand status or not. Including the miserable looking blonde with cold eyes.

“Lovely to meet you. This is truly a grand gathering you’ve all put together…” Sejanus offers with a smile of pearl. You peer up at him, his eyes stealing quick glances at goddess Jane.

Mama goes off on a tangent about how much she adores hosting gatherings as much as attending them — and it’s all a mere buzz in your ears.

Your eyes shift toward the sister, Grace. She’s scowling at you… how peculiar.

“Jane, forgive me if this is far too forward but — I would be most honored to be the last dance you partake in this evening.” Sejanus swallows back his nerves, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Sweet Jane doesn’t bother torturing him, she only nods a shy head.

“Oh, come Grace! I must show you how my youngest daughter performs on the grand piano!”

You feel poorly for the scowling girl who is whisked away by mama. Jane and Sejanus follow alongside them, but part as soon as the music begins.

Both of your palms come to a clasp— shifting weight on your heels as you watch Jane twirl and giggle a golden sound, so beautiful you are certain it could bring each and every single gentleman in attendance to their knees.

Well, except the miserable Mr. Snow.

Your eyes drift to him then — and you catch his gaze already locked upon your stature. He averts it hastily, staring at what looks to be the far wall after he is caught.

Does he plan to lurk here like a shadow’s phantom for the entirety of the evening?

“Do you dance, Mr. Snow?”

His jaw is a sharp — tense thing. It clenches in surprise at your voice. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he answers.

“Not if I can help it.” Is but all he offers before returning to a miserable state of silence again.

By god, to garner more than a mere word is equivalent to the act of tugging teeth loose. You purse your lips, turning your head away to find another question you could offer.

You do not bother, however.

For the first time in all your life, in all the seasons you’ve suffered — you wish to dance. Not because you find it to be fun or any more stimulating than a novel but; rather because you would be far more joyous away from him.

Beyond this, it would make mama less angered when the gathering reaches its end.

You do not offer him a word of parting before you plunge into the lively crowd. A man with blonde locks, not quite as icy as Mr. Snow’s own tousles, offers his hand.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, pretending to be that of a girl in one of your novels. Whisked away by a mysterious, dancing stranger who offers more than just a meaningless hand.

You pretend the blonde is to be a grand lover, one who will care for you beyond material needs. Beyond what is expected and a bore.

You pretend, and when the song ends — so does each and every one of your mindless fantasies.

To normality once again…

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misseviehyde · 5 months

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IN YOUR DREAMS

Sarah knew she was dreaming again... or at least having THE nightmare. It was the same nightmare, the same one she always had.

The bully was everywhere. Sarah could smell her, feel her, taste her and hear her.

Yesssss, you're weak... you're so fucking pathetic. You can't even fight me in your dreams.

Sarah groaned in her sleep - her body drenched in sweat and her face a rictus of terror. Inside her own mind she was paralysed, unable to move as Khloe approached her with steady clops of her black thigh boots.

The bully was impossibly large and powerful. She towered over Sarah and her lips were a cruel smile of ecstasy. She was dressed in tight black clothing and gorgeous from head to toe. She was everything Sarah secretly wanted to be, but never could be. She was perfect.

Rich, powerful, dominant, spoiled. Khloe was a Goddess. She made Sarah feel so pathetic, so small and weak.

You know that I'm going to destroy your friends and your family too - I'm going to RUIN everything you hold dear. I'm going to take IT ALL. But first I'll start with making your greatest nightmares come true.

The bully laughed and advanced on the whimpering Sarah, her nails glinting as she turned her hand into a claw and reached out to her face.

I could tell you that this won't hurt much, but then I'd be lying. Mmmmmh, it's going to be a long night for you loser...

************

Sarah awoke screaming and clawing at her face where the sensation of Khloe's nails still itched and burned like fire.

She shuddered in horror at the memory - the sensation of being dominated and destroyed by the superior girl.

But it was only a dream right? Or rather, a nightmare. A recurring nightmare.

Sarah had been bullied at school, but Khloe was entirely a figment of her own inner fears and worries. She was an amalgam of every girl that had ever teased or taunted her. She was what Sarah hated and feared.

The dreams were so vivid. Khloe seemed more evil and powerful every time. Sarah was starting to worry maybe she was losing her mind. She'd always had a powerful imagination - but now it seemed over-active.

A knock at the door caused Sarah to startle and she smiled weakly as her boyfriend Sam came in with a steaming cup of fresh tea.

"Woah, you look exhausted. Bad dreams again?"

Sarah nodded and he sat down and slid his arm around her.

"I'm so sorry babe. I hate that you keep having these nightmares. I wish there was something I could do to help."

"I know," smiled Sarah as she squeezed his hand. "Hopefully they'll go away eventually."

Sam shook his head doubtfully. "Maybe, but I'm going to talk to my friend Kelly. She might have something that can help."

Sarah sighed, "Oh no, not Kelly who is into magic and all that stuff. Please don't tell me I'm so desperate I have to turn to all that spiritual mumbo-jumbo. Last time it took weeks to clean up the mess those weird candles made."

Sam laughed, "Kelly may be a little kooky, but some of her ideas have worked for me. We may as well try!"

Sarah smiled weakly at him and shrugged. "Well, okay then."

**********

Gazing at the strange web like frame of the dream-catcher, Sam wondered if it could really work, then shrugging finished nailing it into place above the bed. It was a circular contraption with brightly coloured threads stiched across the frame. Feathers hung from the bottom of the hoop.

He was a pretty open minded guy, but he wasn't sure if he believed in magic. Then again, perhaps the benefits of the dream-catcher were psychosomatic and it might still help.

So long as Sarah felt that it might work and her nightmares decreased, he was willing to try anything. He'd do anything to help his girl.

Kelly had explained that the dream catcher would catch bad dreams and nightmares in the web of coloured threads. They would then be burned up and destroyed in the pure natural sunlight the next day.

Sam had to admit he was actually fascinated by Sarah's dreams. He could never remember his dreams, he wasn't even sure he had any. It also entranced him to hear about other peoples and he wondered how it must feel to experience such vivid and surreal mental pictures.

His good work done, Sam tidied the bed, gave the dream catcher a whirl and went off to make a cup of tea. Now to test if it worked!

***********

Sam awoke to a strange feeling. It was like an electic storm or static charge was building in the air.

He'd gone to sleep nearly three hours ago, Sarah by his side and the dream catcher swinging over their heads. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully for once, but above them the dreamcatcher spun and twisted.

Something dark and evil was caught in that web. Sam could feel it. A bad dream... a POWERFULL bad dream was caught. The dreamcatcher seemed to spark with power and energy.

Fascinated he reached up and touched the dream catcher... there was a pink blast and Sam groaned as the world spun and he fell into darkness.

Suddenly Sam was lying on his bed alone and it seemed like the middle of the day. A beautiful bitchy blonde woman was looking at him with disdain on her face and he realised with a start that he must be dreaming.

"Who the hell are you?" she sneered as she brushed back her perfect hair and Sam saw she had long sharp nails and a body that oozed lust and popularity.

"No wait, I know exactly who you are. You're Sarah's pathetic little boyfriend. The weakling little bitch who actually thinks that pathetic loser has anything to offer. I'm Khloe her dream-bully. Nice to meet you."

Sam felt anger flare. "You... you're that dream bully who has been tormenting her every night. Well the jokes on you bitch, because now you'll never be able to harm her again. The dreamcatcher stopped you and now Sarah is safe! Without her imagination to empower you, you'll begin to fade away. Once Sarah forgets about you entirely you won't exist anymore."

Advancing sexily, Khloe straddled Sam and reaching down began to unbuckle his fly. "All your life you've wanted to have vivid dreams, you've wanted to know how it feels to be a dreamer. Well - let me give you something to dream about..."

Khloe's lips twisted into an amused smile. "Perhaps - or perhaps your dreamcatcher has given us both exactly what we've always wanted."

Sam groaned as his cock popped out into Khloe's eager hands and she began to stroke it with her slutty hands. She giggled as she looked down at it. "Cute - but you could do better."

Sam gasped as a feeling of power throbbed through him and his average dick began to swell and grow. It grew thicker, longer and more sensitive. "H... how?" he gasped.

"We're in a dream baby," purred Khloe. "Here, all your fantasies can become true. You can be who you want to be. Best of all, this dream can become reality thanks to your dreamcatcher. Unlike a normal dream when you wake from this one, any changes you have made will become true in reality. If you want them to that is."

"H...how... and how do you know that? It doesn't make any sense."

"Dreams don't have to make sense Sam," purred Khloe as she slowly stroked his now rock hard cock. "Nothing needs to make sense except the pleasure I can give you. From now on you will dream of me every night and make her dream of me too. Then you can have everything you ever wanted. You're going to help me become stronger, not weaker."

"Noooooo," groaned Sam as Khloe stroked and rubbed his enhanced cock. "Noooo, I can't."

"Mmmmmh, yes you can," giggled Khloe. "You're going to help me become an even bigger bitch. We're going to be so good together."

Then with a smirk, she reached down and began to suck his cock.

Sam gasped and groaned in pleasure as Khloe's bitchy pink lips sucked and slurped round his massive new dick. She glugged and gagged happily, easily taking him to the back of her throat and using her sexy nails to tickle and stroke his balls.

Pleasure like he had never known before flowed through him. Sarah didn't like to suck dick, but Khloe clearly loved it. She moaned appreciatively as she worked his cock and sucked and sucked and sucked.

Soon he was cumming in her mouth and it seemed to go on and on and on. The longest orgasm he had ever experienced, an orgasm so good that he never wanted it to end.

Cum dripping down her face, Khloe giggled and snapped her fingers. Sam's cock sprang back to attention immediately and he looked down in amazement.

"We're in a dream remember - the normal rules don't apply. You can cum all night without ever going soft, so we're going to do this again... and again... and again. This is only the beginning baby."

Khloe lowered her lips back to his cock, and Sam groaned as she began to take him back to heaven once more.

**************

With a gasp Sam awoke, his hand on his rock hard cock. Sarah was peacefully slumbering next to him, the dream catcher twirling slightly in the breeze from the open window as Sarah enjoyed her first nightmare free night in years.

Peeling back the sheets, Sam gasped. The nine inch cock now hanging from his groin was just as big and as thick as the one from the dream. Somehow the dream had bent reality.

Now Sam could remember everything. It was the first time he had ever remembered a dream and this one was so vivid. Khloe's bitchy whispers in his mind, her hand on his dick... her mouth sucking and slurping. The promises of more to come if he served her as she desired and helped her.

He knew what he needed to do.

Going to the bathroom, Sam groaned as he pumped his cock thinking of Khloe and he moaned as he began to cum. Fuck - his new dick felt so good. He had to have more, he had to see Khloe again.

***********

Sarah had never felt so liberated. Sam's dreamcatcher seemed to have worked a treat. She had slept so peacefully last night, and not once had she dreamed of the evil bully that had tormented her dreams for so long.

True, Sam seemed tired and was acting weird. He kept looking at her in a funny way and eventually he came over to talk and ask strange questions.

"So you didn't dream about Khloe last night then?"

She shook her head.

"That's good. You never really told me much about her. Is she pretty, what does she look like?"

Sam's questions bothered Sarah. It made her think of the dream bully and brought Khloe back into her mind. His questions were innocent, but the way they were framed made her feel bad. 'Is she prettier than you?'. Why had he asked that? It made her angry and annoyed that her boyfriend should suggest that her bully could be attractive.

"Sam, stop being such an asshole," she screamed as she grew tired of his questions. Now she couldn't stop thinking about that fucking bitch. She couldn't stop thinking about how much sexier and bitchier Khloe was then her. She couldn't stop imagining those perfect lips, rounded breasts and sexy dominant eyes. It was like Sam WANTED her to think about Khloe.

She left the room crying, all the time never thinking to ask the most important question.

How had Sam known her dream bully was called Khloe?

******************

"Good boy, I feel even stronger today," purred Khloe as Sam awoke to find himself back in the dream world.

Moments ago he had touched the dreamcatcher once again and now here he was back with Khloe for the sixth time this week.

Every night Sam had dutifully touched the dreamcatcher and let Khloe enter his mind. Every night the pleasure had become even more intense.

Last night Khloe had let him fuck her like an animal. The feeling of her tight pussy gripping his massive cock, her moans and screams of pleasure as he fucked her brains out... he had never cum so hard.

He had bent Khloe over the bed, his hand gripping her long blonde hair and his hand slapping her ass as with pounding strokes he had fucked her again and again and again.

In his dreams Sam was stronger, more dominant. His body was now muscled and fit and he was taller. On waking he found his body had changed to match his dream and it was as if no one noticed. Whatever changes happened in the dream seemed to leak into reality.

And all he had to do to have more pleasure was to keep betraying Sarah and helping Khloe to become stronger. Fucking her and hearing her grunt and scream was all he cared about.

Indeed Sam no longer cared about the real world. Being here with Khloe was all that mattered. She was his Goddess now.

Sam knew he would do anything for her. She had her claws into his soul. She made him feel so good and every suggestion she made was the right one. He needed Khloe more than he had ever needed Sarah.

Tormenting Sarah and making her think of her bully had become a necessary evil so that he could have the pleasure his body craved. The more he made Sarah remember her dreams, talk about the bully or imagine new situations - the stronger and bitchier it made Khloe become.

Usually when he came to the dream, it would be a fantasy version of somewhere he knew. This time though they were in a room he didn't recognises. It was a boudoir, full of makeup, lingerie and a silk sheeted bed. Seated in front of a tall mirror in a black silk dressing gown, Khloe looked stunning.

If anything she looked hotter than last time. The imagination of both Sarah and Sam had made her grow even stronger.

There was a hunger in her eyes.

"You enjoy fucking me don't you Sam? But you enjoy helping me become more powerful and more evil even more. I know it excites you."

Khloe advanced towards him.

"But do you know what would be really hot baby? Imagine if I could leave the dream and come into reality?"

Sam groaned as Khloe straddled him and stroked his face. "Imagine if I could find someone willing to BECOME me and help me cross over."

Sam looked up in shock.

"Become you... but... how?"

Khloe smiled. "Changes made here in the dream can cross into reality. All you would have to do is imagine yourself becoming me. Let my personality, memories and thoughts become your own. You would become me. You would be Khloe."

Sam groaned - his cock instantly hard. Khloe reached down and began to slowly jerk him off.

"Yesssss imagine it baby. Being me would feel so good, you'd love being a bitch. You'd have my tits and a tight pussy - men would be yours to manipulate and control. You would be the bully. It feels so good to be a bully. Say it... say... I want to be the bully."

Her hand on his cock sped up.

"I... I want to be the bully," moaned Sam nearly drooling.

"Yessss. Imagine it baby. Imagine you have long sharp nails on each finger. Your skin is tanned, you have long blonde hair. Imagine a superior smirk on your lips as you take some weak little boy and make him your puppet."

Sam groaned. His skin began to tingle and he felt Khloe's hand tighten on his cock as she began to pump it faster and faster. Bone's popped and he groaned as his hair began to itch.

"Yessss my tits are swelling up on your chest, your ass is blowing up into mine. Your face is changing... becoming prettier. You fucking love how it feels don't you? Mmmmh, fucking shoot out that cum for me baby, it's the last time you'll ever do it again. Your cock is already shrinking - soon my tight Goddess pussy will be between your legs."

Sam screamed as his cock erupted and suddenly he felt Khloe pinning him down as cum blasted out and coated their bodies. She slid on top of him, the sticky mess seeming to glue them together and he felt her starting to sink into his body.

"Fuck yessss, merge with me Sam. BECOME me."

Khloe moaned in pleasure as they merged. Sam was groaning too. He could feel her breasts on his chest, feel her long blonde hair around his shoulders.

Hips popped and cracked, internal organs moved about. Sam felt his lips twist into a slutty smile as fake tan spread across his skin and he became a fake, popular, mean girl.

"Mmmmh I feel so fucking evil and hot. Yessss make me into a fucking bitch. I want to be Khloe!"

Khloe's superior tits reached their full impressive size and jewellery popped into place. Makeup shimmered over Sam's features and he flexed long acrylic nails.

Feelings of superiority flooded him as he felt Khloe's personality taking control. This felt SO amazing.

"I am a bitch. Yes I am a bitch. I AM A FUCKING EVIL BITCH," he screamed in glee as his voice altered and became Khloe's sexy purr.

Khloe/Sam began to groan and buck. The merging was complete and reaching down he/she began to rub their tight pussy and groan. Ohhh it felt so good.

"I... I'm going to cummmmm!"

Sam screamed as his body bucked and squirted, female hormones rushing round his body. No, wait. She wasn't Sam. She was Khloe.

Sighing, Khloe stretched her perfect body and felt the last vestiges of Sam drop away. What a fucking loser. It had always been his destiny to become her.

"Now I am the bully, I LOVE being a bitch," she sighed happily. Sam no longer existed, and when she awoke from this dream, it would be like he had never existed. Only she remained.

Khloe was evil, manipulative, sexy and popular. She knew in the real world she would be unstoppable.

She couldn't wait to get started.

Khloe walked to the mirror and admired herself for a moment then grinned. It was time to wake up.

She took one last look around her boudoir then snapped her fingers.

It was time to get real. And Sarah had no idea what was coming.

****************

Sarah whimpered as she tried to carry the six heavy shopping bags and coffee for her cruel boss as she staggered after Khloe in the luxurious mall.

Being Khloe's personal assistant was a terrible job, but she was too afraid to quit. Khloe was such a bitch and she was a rich and famous influencer. She had all the power.

"Hurry up you dumb bitch," snapped Khloe as she watched Sarah struggle. "I need my makeover for my hot date tonight."

Sarah nodded. A hot date? That meant another evening of humiliation whilst she waited obediently downstairs and listened to Khloe getting fucked.

Serving Khloe was kind of like a waking nightmare. It sometimes felt like some evil dream she couldn't wake up from.

Perhaps she should borrow the dream catcher she'd seen hanging over Khloe's huge bed? Maybe that would help?

Not that she had dreams anymore.

All her dreams belonged to Khloe now.

#evie hyde #bitchification #m2f transformation #corruption #m2f corruption #bully #possession

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ithaqualovers · 10 months

Text

My Eveningstar

Husband! Morningstar (Helel) x Reader

(TW: NSFW!! 18+ only) ((This was requested by a friend of mine, and this is my first writing a smut ToT... If there is a mistake please tell me! And if you don't know the meaning of Eveningstar is 'The brightest' and symbolized that you are an eternal beauty and love of a Roman goddess.)

Meanwhile, above the high tower, the wind howled as it swirled around the spire, bringing with it the distant cries of the people below. You stood atop the tower, surveying the land with a wistful gaze. Then the Morningstar's servant suddenly called you to the tower's chamber, requested by your king, Helel the Morningstar. the servant approached you and spoke solemnly. “King's dear lover, Eveningstar,” they said. “The Morningstar has need of your presence. He awaits you in the tower chamber.” The servant bowed before you and stepped back. You were surprised by their words, but you nodded and set off for the tower.

As you ascended the stairs, you wondered what Helel wanted from you. When you reached the chamber, you saw the king standing in the centre. Your husband, Helel. The sun that centred on his mask shone brightly as he grinned. “My dearest, come closer to your beloved husband.” You slowly walked up to him, your heart pounding in your chest. Helel slowly took his mask off to expose his dull-cream pupils. Helel took your hands in his, his touch comforting and warm. He brought your hands to his lips and kissed them softly. He looked into your eyes and said “You look so beautiful today, my Eveningstar... Your presence shows a goddess-like beauty, and I am blessed to be able to call you mine.” A smirk appeared on his face. You have never felt him call you like this since he is so possessive and obsessive towards you.

You already know what he wants. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. You can tell that he has an agenda in mind by the way he is speaking so intimately and romantically to you, and the smirk on his face shows that he knows he is getting to you. His possessive and obsessive nature further confirms that he is after something, and that he expects you to give in to his wishes. “What is that you want to do with me, Helel? I will not let you use me for your own gain again.” You replied, your voice was stern and unwavering. Helel chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint as he stepped closer to you. He reached out to gently brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, my fiery dove, you are always so quick with your words,” he purred, his voice dripping with desire. “But I see through that facade, Y/n. I know deep down you crave the touch of your beloved husband.” His hand trailed down from your face, caressing your neck and collarbone. “I want you. I want to feel the heat between us ignite into a blazing inferno. To taste the passion that burns within our souls.” His voice grew huskier as he leaned in close, his hot breath washing over your lips. “Give yourself to me completely, my Eveningstar. Let us indulge in pleasures beyond mortal comprehension.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. You raised a brow and met his gaze, feeling a tremor of fear and excitement. Taking a deep breath, and sighed. Do you really have to give in to him? You knew that there was no turning back if you said yes. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and nodded, ready to take the plunge. “Hm. So needy...” You smirked, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you opened your eyes as your e/c stared into his dull-creamy eyes. “My needy king wants to fuck his Eveningstar, correct?” You chuckled at your words and a smirk tugging your lips. Helel's eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of amusement and desire dancing within them as he leaned in closer, his voice dripping with dark allure. “Oh, my delectable dove, you always knew how to play with fire. But be warned, for I am the inferno that consumes all in its path.” His hand trailed down your arm before gripping your waist possessively. “Oh, yes. I want nothing more than to claim you as my own once again. To feel our souls entwined in a passionate dance of pleasure and dominance." He pressed himself against you, his breath hot against your ear. “But remember this: it is not just 'fucking' I seek. It is the sheer ecstasy of surrendering ourselves to the darkest desires that reside within us both. Are you ready to lose yourself in the flames?”

You closed your eyes, the excitement coursing through your veins. You were ready to embrace the unknown, to let go of all inhibitions and finally break free. You nodded a silent agreement that sealed your fate. You really give in to him, huh? “Mm... Alright, my Morningstar... Do as you wish.” With your permission granted, Helel grinned, a sinister glint in his golden eyes. He leaned in close, his voice a low whisper in your ear. “Good.” His eyes gleamed with a mix of desire and satisfaction as he felt the heat of your words wash over him. He released a low, rumbling chuckle that resonated through the chamber. “Ah, my insatiable Eveningstar,” he murmured huskily, “your eagerness fuels the fire within me.”

With a swift, fluid motion, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you effortlessly towards the grand bed adorned with silk sheets and dark velvet drapes. As he laid you down gently, his hands moved with purpose, skillfully removing every garment you wear. His touch was firm yet tantalizingly gentle as he explored every inch of your body, tracing patterns of pleasure along your curves. He slowly removed his heavy cape and settled in next to you, he pulled the bust of his short black coat to his side exposing his bare chest. You shivered as you felt his sharp fingers, caressing your hips. His breath was hot and heavy against your skin as he lifted your hips. His eyes drank in the sight of your body, and you felt your heart race as he leaned closer. His lips brushed against yours, and the intensity of the moment was overwhelming. Helel pulled down his trousers as he positioned himself above you, and you felt the tip of his dick teasing your entrance. His golden eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that could ignite galaxies. Lowering himself onto you, he claimed your lips in a searing kiss while simultaneously entering you with a slow and deliberate thrust without a warning. You gasped as he filled you, your entire body trembling with pleasure.

“Mmf... H-Helel...” You moaned his name in his mouth while his tongue explored your mouth, tasting every corner of it. Feeling your inner muscles clench around his cock, Helel pressed down even further, filling you with his length to the hilt. A low groan escaped his lips as he broke the kiss, his eyes locked onto yours, boring into your very soul. “That's it...” he panted, and his hands roamed over your body, tracing patterns of desire and love across your skin. He began to move within you with a slow, rhythmic intensity, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. “Let me hear your screams of pleasure as we drown in the inferno that binds us together.” He whispered huskily. You clung to him as the pleasure rose within you, your cries growing louder and louder until you screamed out in pleasure. Oh, your cries are only making him turned even more passionate. Helel let out a deep, throaty moan of pleasure as he felt your inner muscles clench around him. He increased his pace and thrust harder against you, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. “That's it, my Eveningstar,” he growled lowly, “Take me all in... Mmmf– surrender yourself to me.” His hands roamed hungrily over your body as he moved within you with an almost primal intensity. With each thrust came another wave of pleasure that threatened to sweep away any sense of rationality that remained between both of you. “Hah...” He moaned aloud as he felt himself becoming lost in the fire between you two.

You bit your lip and gripped the back of his neck tightly as your nails dug into his flesh and started bleeding. Helel groaned in both pleasure and pain as your nails dug into the back of his neck, fueling the fire that burned within him. His thrusts became more urgent and desperate, matching the intensity of your grip. He gasped and grinned, “You are... enjoying this... aren't you?” His hips moved with a primal rhythm, meeting yours with an unyielding force. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingling with the symphony of your moans and breathless cries. “Mmn... I'm almost there..” As you continued to tighten around him, Helel could feel his release building within him, becoming an unstoppable force ready to consume them both. With one final deep thrust, he let out a guttural groan and released himself inside you, filling you with his semen. He collapsed beside you on the bed, his chest rising and falling heavily as he regained his breath. A satisfied smile played on his lips as he turned towards you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You feel so good...” he whispered, “My beautiful, Eveningstar.”

Both of you panted heavily as Helel kissed you tenderly, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you close. You both lay there in silence, savouring the moment and the connection you had just shared. You looked at him and smirked, “Tired already?” you asked. Helel's eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint, his breathing steady. “Tired? Far from it, my love,” he purred, his voice laced with desire. “I am merely catching my breath before I continue to ravish you again.” With a swift and fluid motion, he rolled over, pinning you beneath him once again. His hands traced a path of fire along your body as his lips claimed yours in a hungry kiss. “Prepare yourself, Eveningstar,” he whispered against your lips.

“For I am not done with you yet.”

#identity v ithaqua #idv night watch #ithaqua idv #ithaqua x reader #idv x you #identity v night watch #idv smut #smut #I'M SHAKING #WAIT WHY AM I EVEN SHAKING...?#first smut

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maegalkarven · 7 months

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AU where Dark Urge didn't loose memories and the events in Moonrise Towers in act 2 went a tag differently. Or very differently.

Fucking everything up in a new, interesting way.

Characters: m!Dark Urge, Enver Gortash, Orin the Red, Ketheric Thorm, Isobel Thorm, Dame Aylin, Wyll Ravengard, Ulder Ravengard (mentioned), Karlach.

m!Dark Urge x Enver Gortash.

It was a stupid fucking plan from the very beginning of it.

To go to the Moonrise Towers to – what, confront Ketheric? Confront the Chosen of the God of the Dead?

Nemo knew better than the others what an idiotic idea it was.

But Nightsong already took a flight, and harpers moved to attack – and what was Nemo supposed to do?

He was a wreck, a shadow of his former self, weak as a kitten, clumsy as a newborn owlcub. He was the failed Chosen of Bhaal going to a place what was his demise.

Swooped by the currents of events unfolding, he had no plan.

But again, Nemo was never the plan guy; it was Gortash’s forte, it was his work. He was the brain of their plan, the brain of all of their operations. He thought things through as Nemo sliced around, creating chaos, bringing havoc, painting world in blood.

But it was before. Before Orin took her swing, before Nemo’s once great abilities were reduced to dust, before he became weak. So weak he had to depend on others, so weak he required, no, needed allies.

The voice of Father dull in his head; illithid parasite had to do something with it, had to change the rules the same way it changed them for Astarion.

Funny, before that whole mess Nemo would never put himself and a vampire spawn on the same page. But now? Oh, how alike they were, the spawns of unrelenting cruel force commanding their will, puppets of someone else’s play.

Waking up on nautiloid was akin to waking up from a fewer dream. The Urge...subsided. It was pushed back, held at bay. He was almost alone in his own head, more alone when he ever was with Father’s constant will moving his hands.

But what good did this free will do if he was about to die anyway, probably in the same damn place he died the first time? Would Orin be the one to slice through him one final time?

Nemo was never the one for plans, as clever as he was. Gortash always claimed it drove him mad, for Nemo had all the intellect, but rarely put it to good use.

“You have to exercise your mind the same way you train your body,” his unexpected ally would say. “Otherwise what use is it to you? You, my dear murderer, is capable of much greater things than your father foresees for you.”

These thoughts were atrocious, they were heretical, they were...compelling. Flattering, warming some deep corners of the soul Nemo didn’t know he had.

No wonder lordling ended up luring Nemo into his bed.

No wonder Orin saw her brother’s newfound weakness and used it against him.

Clever little thing, his slaughter-kin, to shift into Gortash to approach him. He was a fool to lower his defenses, of course he was.

He paid for it greatly.

“We’re moving down,” Isobel acknowledged. She, a daughter of a man who turned his back to two gods for her sake. She, the priestess of a goddess Ketheric Thorm forsaken. She, a child brave enough to confront her father.

Nemo hated her before he knew her.

He hated her for the way Ketheric turned the world upside down for her to live; he hated her for how ridiculously loved she was.

She hated her because even after being corrupted by Myrkul’s unholy powers, she still dared to stay unstained. Holy. Good.

He hated her so much his whole body hurt.

She who denied her father’s love, she who had love so selfless, so unconditional-

Father’s love was always conditional. Father’s love was always a leash and never a caress.

Father’s love hurt no matter how much Nemo craved it.

Oh, how he wished he could stifle the light of her life; oh how he wanted to see Ketheric’s face as he would tell him, in every gruesome detail, how his precious daughter died the second time.

How everything Ketheric did, everything he betrayed was for naught.

But Nemo was not what he used to be: he was weak, and Isobel was his advantage in a fight against her father. Her and Nightsong, but Nemo wasn’t even sure if aasimar was alive; the last he saw of her was when Elder Brain dragged the woman down.

Down, down, down-

Down they went.

Nemo didn’t want to go down there. He didn’t want to confront anyone, he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t strong, he-

He wanted to go home.

Home, such a strange concept it is.

Bhaal’s temple was never his home, even if it was the only shelter he has ever known.

No, home was...

Home was a mechanical clicking of devices operating in Gortash’s workshop. Home was the dim light and the huge table covered in papers; the smell of hot iron and smoke, and the man with fingers stained in ink.

The bitter bile rose up his throat at the thought of it.

The Chosen of Bane was never supposed to be his home.

The Chosen of Bane was his enemy.

Nemo has failed his life’s purpose in more ways than he could count.

And yet he wanted to go back; to the security of that place, to the delighted glint in the other man’s eyes, the mad plans, the notes on the table, the open books, the diagrams, the warmth of his skin as Nemo dragged Enver away from his work:

"Rest, you need to rest. It’s unbecoming of you to run yourself ragged like that. Sleep, your machines will not disappear overnight."

The way he struggled, tried to argue as exhaustion overtook his body. The way Lord Enver Gortash, the tyrant in the making, looked vulnerable in front of him in a way, Nemo suspected, he never looked in front of anyone else.

The way Nemo went to bed with him and expected to wake up in a pool of blood, but never did.

Because some part of him resisted Father even then. Some part of him claimed Enver Gortash for himself.

And it cost him greatly.

Nemo wondered if returning to Moonrise Towers could be classified as ‘coming home’.

He wondered if his home would meet him with windows shut and new lock on the door. He wondered how quickly he would be discarded by a man having no use for him anymore.

Turned out, Nemo was a fucking idiot.

***

It happens faster than it has any right to be; Ketheric spots Isobel, Wyll sees his father, Karlach lurches at Gortash, and Orin...

Orin steps away from the Elder Brain and smiles.

“My poor slaughter-kin,” she coos. “Came back so I could finish what I’ve started, did you not?”

And then the moves.

And fuck, Nemo forgot how fast she is, and he is so out of it, he is but a shell of his former self; his body is weak, feeble, damaged-

Orin knows it. Orin was the one who damaged it in the first place.

Nemo is vaguely aware of Isobel reaching out to Nightsong and freeing her from the bonds, he thinks he hears Gortash trying to reel Orin and Ketheric back in:

“Orin, we haven’t finished, the Brain didn’t receive command yet, come back here- Ketheric, two stones can’t hold it down, we need the third, Ketheric, forget about your daughter, come right here and make yourself useful for a change-“

But Ketheric doesn’t listen. Orin doesn’t listen. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own issues, their own grudges, their own fights. Karlach slices through the undead servant and knocks Gortash into the ground, only to be pushed back by a force of small explosive detonating right into her face. It doesn’t damage her much, but pushes back a significant amount.

“My poor brother,” Orin taints as Nemo tries to dodge one of her slices and comes out short. Blood oozes from the new cut and his murder-kin giggles. “So out of it, so pathetically weak. I did a good job on you, brother dear. But,” another smile, another attack. Nemo barely parries it in time. “I can do better. Father knows I can do better, Father knows you have failed him. He loves you no more, my failure of a brother. He has left you.”

Nemo would love to argue what Father went nowhere, what he still haunts Nemo’s every waking and dreaming moment, what the only thing stopping the God of Murder from consuming his wayward son is the illithid parasite in the bhaalspawn’s brain. But he doesn’t have the time, he doesn’t have the strength, he is failing, and-

The next strike to come is fatal.

Or it would be, if not for a huge tentacle of the brain to come flying out of nowhere.

Sending Orin flying right into the Morphic pool.

To the Brain.

With her stone.

Fuck.

Nemo turns around and meets a bewildered stare of Enver fucking Gortash, the man who just successfully compromised his own plan - their plan - beyond any recovery.

A fool.

Nemo’s blood is so loud in his ears he can barely hear; his heart is throwing itself against the cage of his ribs with a force unbeknown to him before.

He feels elevated, he feels scared, but most of all he feels-

“What the fuck did you do?” he snarls and everything, miraculously, stills. Everyone freezes, staring between them in a mix of surprise and dread.

Everyone feels what something just went very wrong.

“I-“ Enver starts, but Nemo gives him no chance to continue.

“You just threw the Netherstone to the Brain! The Netherstone we use to control the Brain! And you just threw it right at it,” there’s indignation burning in him but also...confusion?

Why? Why would Enver do something like that? Why would he compromise everything? Why would he-

“She was about to kill you,” Gortash seethes. “I saved your life.”

“By dooming everyone and everything in the process,” Nemo shouts back. “By dooming yourself. By the gods, Ketheric, did you see that? How he just- Ruined everything?”

“I did in fact see that,” Ketheric, who is pretty much being held down at the fire point, states. The only thing stopping Nightsong from murdering him here and now is Isobel’s hand on her shoulder. “It was a very stupid thing to do.”

Gortash looks appalled at that.

“I just saved his life!” he repeats like this fixes everything. Like it explains anything. There’s a mad look in his eyes, of a man who just realized what he has done. Then he turns to Nemo. “I saved your life, you ungrateful little-“

“Why?” comes out so quietly it’s barely a whisper.

At first Nemo thinks he asked that, the question was definitely on the tip of his tongue. But no, the voice belongs to Karlach. She rises from the ground, shaken but unhurt.

“I know you; you’re an awful fucking person who only cares for his own well-being. Why would you do something like that,” she gestures at Nemo and Nemo makes a face at her. He knows how he looks, thank you very much. “For him?”

Gortash opens his mouth, hesitates. His eyes dart to Nemo and Nemo meets his gaze with just as inquisitive expression as the one on Karlach’s face.

“Yes, Enver,” he agrees. “Why?”

But Enver never gets to answer, for in that precise moment the waters of the Morphic pool part and a figure crawls out.

A figure of a pale woman with even paler eyes, dressed in red.

Orin.

She takes a step, then another.

And something is wrong.

Her movements are unsteady; her head dangles as if she’s held up the strings and her eyes-

They’re vacant, her eyes, almost empty. They’re...peaceful, and Orin has never been peaceful in her entire damn life.

Nemo makes the involuntary step forward and is immediately held back by Wyll, who, gods only know how, managed to not only teleport his father right next to Karlach, but also come back to Nemo, and is now holding him firmly by the forearm.

“Don’t,” he whispers into Nemo’s ear. “This is not your sister.”

“Orin?” Nemo calls out regardless, because this is his sister. It has to be.

Orin raises her head and looks straight at him. Then she opens her mouth and speaks:

“Praise the Absolute.”

“By the Nine Hells,” Karlach curses. “She got tadpolled.”

“And she has the stone,” Ketheric is the first one to move, ripping himself out of Nightsong’s grip and stepping forward.

“Well, shit.”

An overwhelming, overbearing horror embraces Nemo.

Orin, his little sister. Orin, his murderer, his torturer.

Orin, the perfect slayer. The puppet of the Absolute.

“Maybe I can use the prism,” he starts. “I can bring her back to her senses.”

“And then what?” Wyll argues and it takes Nemo an embarrassingly long time to realize his friend has already started to pull him away. “She’ll try to kill us on her own volition and not the Brain’s? No.”

“We need to go,” Gortash speaks up. “Quickly, now.”

“There’s no ‘we,’”, Karlach argues. “And ‘we’ are not going anywhere with you.”

“Karlach, now is not the time to argue-“

“You sold me to Zariel-“

“Father?” Isobel calls out. “Father, what are you doing?”

Ketheric unsheathes his sword.

“Atoning,” he speaks. The moves to rip the Netherstone from his armor and throw it at Nemo. Nemo, surprisingly, manages to catch it. “Keep it safe,” the man orders and oh, is this his general voice now? “Keep her safe.”

Nemo doesn’t need to ask who he means by that. Instead he argues.

“I am a murderer, you know that, right?” as if any sane argument would work right now. “A murder incarnate. I do not keep people safe.”

“This time you will,” and this is why Ketheric was so feared and respected; a single hard stare pins Nemo to the ground. “Or I will come back and hunt you down to the end of Toriel. To the end of every known realm, if I have to.”

“Not to interrupt this fine and lovely conversation, but general,” Gortash looks just as puzzled as Nemo feels. “What are you doing again?”

The man has some strength enough to smirk.

“What I should have done long time ago,” he sends Isobel a long, sickeningly loving gaze. “The right thing. Isobel.”

“Father,” the girl’s chin trembles. “Father, I don’t-“

“I love you more than any god could understand,” the old general speaks. “And I will never regret bringing you back, never. But now,” he turns his gaze back and manages to parry the quick, efficient and entirely deadly strike of Bhaal’s unloved daughter. “You have to live. And I...I have to take a stand. Go,” he says. “Go,” he commands. “I will hold her back for as long as I can.”

“The undying against the slayer,” Gortash murmurs as he already sprints towards the elevated platform.

The ground shakes as the Brain breaks out of its bonds, bit by bit, slowly but surely. The wave of psionic energy what comes their way almost knocks them all down.

“Go,” Nemo shouts as he and Wyll teleport closer to the exit. Thank fuck for the teleportation spells. Thank fuck for Wyll.

Karlach all but carries dazed Ravengard away as Dame Aylin takes Isobel in her arms and takes flight.

“Go, go, go!” he repeats as a familiar hand grabs him by the shoulder. Nemo doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to act as he is dragged the remaining way to the platform by no-one but the tyrant himself.

The moment Karlach reaches the platform Wyll hits the control panel and they start to rise. Nemo is afraid it is not fast enough.

From the height of their ascend he sees the undying general fight off the slayer. Two Chosen of Gods against each other.

Even from that far away it is clear Ketheric will fall.

He sacrificed himself. He brought them time.

Fool.

***

Down below the illithid colony, amidst the Hell of his own creation, general Ketheric Thorm receives one last, final blow.

Blood oozes out of his wounds, painting the floor red. Above him a woman dressed in red stands; eyes vacant, empty, soulless.

But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Isobel is safe. And Ketheric...

“Melodia,” he whispers as the last breath leaves his body. “I am coming.”

Somehow he knows she is waiting for him; what she has always waited for him, no matter how far he strayed.

Ketheric Thorm dies peacefully. It feels like falling asleep.

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booburry · 3 months

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Madison's Folly// Part 1 // a Gale Dekarios Fic // WC 3.9k // Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Complete

Summary: Madison did not have a life of substance nor a life that invoked jealousy of the passing mind, but the few good things she had, she held dear. So when the man she loved unequivocally was left heartbroken by a goddess and a magical curse within his body, Madi found herself searching for any means to rid him of his life threatening burden, no matter the personal cost. For all magic, no matter the greatness, comes with a cost to match.

AKA Madison does something foolish to prove her love for Gale without seeing the stark irony of the situation until it's far too late to step back.

A/N: This should be a 3 part series, to keep me from the never-ending WIP list but god knows my mind is obsessed with this man rn.

Tags: Angsty, Emotions, Unrequited Love, Established Friendship/Connection, Dialogue Heavy, Mentions of Death, OC is an Orphan

Gale groaned as Tav joined Elminster in his false claim he had lost all of his decorum. If only Elminster knew the company he kept, then he would know Gale held all of the decorum—apart from Wyll who upheld his own most of the time.

The groan, in truth, was because Gale knew his response had been rude but the cryptic man said ‘she’ sent him, which could mean two different women—the prospect that either of them sending Elminster to find Gale left him with equal amounts of dread. Elminster now demanding food and drink before telling Gale this information only goaded him into further ill temperament.

“If it helps any, my dear boy, the query to your conundrum will be quickly answered.”

“Oh for the love of—” Gale managed to stop himself before cussing at the man who was not only a wizard he greatly respected but was also the closest embodiment to a father figure he had. Normally Elminster’s colourful cadence was something Gale found amusing, and often played into, but there seemingly was a time and place, neither of which was now! With another sigh, Gale pleaded with Elminster for a straight answer, “Just tell me if it was—”

A puff of pale green smoke appeared behind Elminster and out walked a woman Gale was not prepared to face. All of his anger and impatience melted as the heavy guilt and shame of his past actions crashed into him. Memories of the numerous times she had called upon him when he had locked himself away in his tower, the countless times she had cried out to and for him, and how he ignored every single one until it had been too late and he had been taken by the mind flayers.

Gods, he would gladly face the wrath of Mystra ten times over than have this ill-prepared meeting right now.

“Madison?” Gale called out, immediately recoiling as he saw her expression twist at his use of her full name, something he hadn’t called her since they were kids. He didn't even know why he called her by her full name, it just slipped out and unfortunately became another mistake he couldn't take back.

“Dekarios.” She muttered, arms immediately crossing over her chest, hitting him with an equally unnerving name choice.

He really wasn’t prepared for this.

~X~

Stupid Gale finally decides to leave his tower…Madi grumbled to herself for the nth time along this journey to find the man she unrequitedly loved, the man whom she continued to sacrifice everything for, the man who had shunned every attempt at connecting after being dramatically dumped by a goddess.

She hadn’t always been stupidly in love with him, a point she had continued to make and remind Elminster as they had gone from Waterdeep to Baldur’s Gate and even through the Under Dark to where they stood now. For the longest time, Gale had been family, the only family Madi had besides Elminster. The famed wizard had taken her on as an apprentice when she was six after blowing up the bunk beds in the orphanage she had been in. Thankfully none were hurt, but the adults felt it was best for Madi to be with ‘her kind’.

It hadn’t been an easy life, especially at the start not knowing how to read or write yet having a higher natural talent for magic than her peers. It was a well-written recipe for potent ridicule and ostracization. Gale was the only one who didn’t treat her differently and was most enthusiastic about teaching her to be able to enjoy literature of all kinds. It was almost instant from that moment their inseparable bond—until Mystra weaved her way between them.

It was a conflicting feeling, for a long time, to have a visceral hatred and jealousy towards the goddess that was the source of magic, constantly surrounded by her presence, her eyes knowingly on any that called upon the Weave for spellcasting. It had always made Madi uncomfortable, the only times it left her feeling violently sick came in the later years of life once she knew how…deep Gale’s intimacy was with the goddess of magic.

That conflict made it easy for her discontent to turn into hatred the moment Gale started to choose Mystra over her, choosing to be blind to the goddess's influence and manipulation. The day Madi claimed that he had been groomed by the goddess had been the final wedge between them and it had been the last conversation between the two.

Had words been exchanged since? Of course, but always one-sided. Always Madi leaning against his wooden door, begging for him to talk to her, begging for his forgiveness, begging him to let her help. Silence was the only thing that was ever returned to her until the time Tara told Madi that Gale wasn’t there. Tara had ‘finally convinced him to get out’ and apparently Gale had left his tower to find Madi. So she waited for him in his tower, with Tara, but he didn’t return.

Then Madi found that he never went to her residence.

So she went to Elminster, in hopes Gale went there, but he hadn’t been seen.

From there her search for Gale spiralled into this journey that now had Madi looking at some old Monk temple nestled within this mountain pass that now housed many Gythyanki with another astute observer nearby who only wished to obtain one of their children.

And, yet again, no sign of Gale.

What a miserable fucking place, Madi grumbled to herself before letting out a deep sigh at the realization she hit another dead end. Silently she begged that she find Gale soon otherwise everything she had sacrificed…this pact she made, would be for not.

Another sigh before she waved her hands, speaking the short incantation before evaporating into smoke and reappearing next to where she last left Elminster.

“Madison?” His voice was the first she heard and it felt like her heart stopped beating and was sucked up into her lungs, preventing her from breathing, until it set in that he did not call her Madi, or Mads, or even Addy but Madison…like she was a former colleague or acquaintance.

It hurt, probably more than it should have, but the name was like daggers of ice to her chest and she could see by how Gale sunk into himself that he knew the pain he caused, yet he did not show her if it was a mistake he meant.

“Dekarios.” She spat the name as if she were casting vicious mockery, her body language closing itself off despite how desperately Madi wanted to just hug him. Instead, she would suffice on taking him in from afar while his companions and Elminster just watched the two of them stare at each other.

In all honestly, Madi was expecting him to look worse based on how Tara described him. Sure, his frame was smaller, less muscle, frailer, but his beard was not unruly and unbecoming, his hair, although adorned with more visible gray, looked good at the new length and half tied up in a bun. Madi would have happily lingered looking at his breathtaking features but she felt pulled to stare at the markings visible on his chest, neck and even just below his eye.

Elminster had told her of the orb and the magic that lived within Gale, even though she had already heard much of these facts from other wizards within their community—too many are always eager to sing songs of the fall of Mystra’s chosen. The gravity of Gale’s situation was the reason Madi had sat outside his tower door for countless nights, why she had cried and begged him to let her help and why, at the end of it all, she had looked for a way to rid him of that orb without his permission or participation.

Gale immediately reacted to her attention, pulling his vestments closed and turning his body away to show the side of him without the markings.

That reaction broke their silent connection, Madi turning away to look at Elminster who watched her with a sadness she did not often see him look at her with. Her jaw clenched as she quickly looked towards the ground.

“You tell him?” Madi asked through gritted teeth, desperate to get out of here, mad at herself for wanting to leave, furious that it seemed her sacrifices were for not while still having that stupid glimmer inside of her convincing herself that the idiot cared about her as she did him, he just didn’t know how to say it or act upon it. The grief with which Elminster shared with her immediately twisted into disappointment.

“Did I not teach either of you to be better mannered?” Madi sighed.

“I take it that we are having lunch first, then?”

~X~

Madi stayed silent for the majority of the meal, catching glances from Gale and a few of his companions. The pale elf sitting to her left, whom Madi quickly clocked as a vampire spawn by the markings on his neck, paid astute attention to her.

“So,” he began, his tone haughty and akin to those of high society, “your Gale’s little childhood buddy he keeps talking about, hmn?”

“Uh, maybe? Gale had a few friends growing up, not just one.” Madi awkwardly replied, caught off guard by this elf’s attention and finding his striking beauty to be unnerving. Her response seemed to displease him, as he sunk into his seated posture with slight defeat.

“tch—Really? He always seemed like the type of person everyone would find insufferable.” Madi snorted her wine back into her goblet, taking a moment to compose herself before turning to her dinner companion with a smile.

“Most do, they just…well,” Madi’s smile faltered as she glanced over at Gale, who had been watching her with an expression she couldn’t understand before he quickly looked away from her gaze, “they take advantage of his willingness to teach and to share the ‘wonders of the weave’.” She gave her best Gale impression as she quoted the very words she had heard him say numerous times.

“I’m Astarion, by the way,” the pale elf introduced himself after he recovered from the laughter at Madi’s impression, “and you do a great Gale.” He told her with a smile, his attention drifting to her again, his red eyes watching her with delight. “I must say, if Gale had told me how beautiful you are I would have asked him to tell me more about you.”

Madi felt her face go crimson at the compliment, not being able to recall the last time she had authentically been complimented for her appearance—beautiful never being a word she had ever or would ever use to describe herself. The shock and embarrassment to which she reacted seemed to catch Astarion off guard.

“Oh I assure you he has told me nothing embarrassing about you—”

“No,” Madi found herself immediately correcting, mostly due to not wanting to hear what would be the closest thing Gale had said about her that could be described as ‘embarrassing’. “It’s that I, well…” Madi’s cheeks grew crimson as she grew too shy to admit she didn’t know how to respond to his compliment.

“You act as if nobody has ever called you beautiful before.” Astarion laughed as if the proposition was hilariously impossible until he did a double take at Madi’s blank expression and gasped. Although, his shock wasn’t directed at her. “Gale, are you telling me you never complimented this woman on her beauty?”

Astarion’s question silenced the group, his action of standing up and pointing both hands at Madi in shock solidifying the attention he held. Gale stammered in shock, his eyes going wide before flicking to Madi who just winced, dreading that the first time he gave such a compliment came now.

“What? But she’s hot—wait is this Madi?” The tiefling bellowed the question to Gale, who became further flustered at the onslaught of questions he was not prepared to answer. “Are you Madi?” The tiefling turned her attention to her when Gale seemed unable to form a response.

“That…is my name.” Madi hesitantly confirmed, her stomach twisting as she continued to watch Gale flip through constant emotions that seemed more volatile as the moment went on. His companions seemed to know her as Madi and seemed to know of her, which meant he had to have talked about her. But if he never described her then…what did he say? How could it be so significant to garner such a reaction from the Tiefling, or for Astarion to be so offended that Gale had never complimented her?

And if his words were to be believed, whatever it was that Gale had told them wasn’t embarrassing in the slightest…it left little else to be the probable point of topic when taking all accounts into hand.

“It’s a shame you missed that one, soldier.” Madi heard the tiefling mutter into Gale’s ear, evidently not realizing how loud she was speaking, Gale’s complexion turning pale as he watched Mira’s confusion become visible in her expression at what she heard.

Was he really telling people she didn’t care about him? That he lost his chance? The chance she threw at him countless times? That he always refused? Was he really garnering their pity over breaking her heart?

The meal she ate could have turned to ash in her mouth by that way her expression twisted into disgust and hatred towards Gale, Madi found herself quickly standing up wishing to excuse herself with any reason she could think of, so she said the first that came to mind.

“I don’t wish to detract from the matter of which Elminster sought you out. Besides, I have found to have lost my appetite.” Madi did not wait for another word, did not look back to peak from her peripheral as she walked away from the campsite and towards a space where she could sit in peace.

~X~

It was some time before she heard Elminster’s voice in her mind ‘It is done, I have arranged for us to leave in the morning, should you wish to return in company.’ Madi was always appreciative of the sending spell for its limited length, it always forced Elminster to be more concise than he normally spoke.

She was on her way back to the camp, able to hear some chatter, when she received another message. ‘Be warned, he will come searching for you if you do not return, you can’t avoid this encounter, my dear, and for your sake: don’t.’

“Hello…” Gale’s hesitantly chirpy greeting came behind her and immediately she knew that Elminster delayed his sending message to ensure she was here for when Gale arrived—can’t avoid this encounter…Madi internally grumbled at the words Elminster told her.

“Hi.” Madi returned, immediately sitting down where she stood, finding herself looking towards some of the lands covered by the Shadow Curse.

“Eerie, isn’t it?” He asked her as he slowly sat beside her on the grass. Madi looked at the lands ahead of her, dreading what she planned and not wanting to discuss it in the slightest—not yet at least.

“Did he tell you?” Madi asked, pivoting the conversation to Elminster and the message he brought.

“Yes.” The gravity of Gale’s tone returned, his head dipping with the heaviness of the conversation. Madi didn’t hesitate to respond.

“You can’t blow yourself up, Gale!” She told him, already knowing he would have a hard time convincing himself he had any other option.

“I…we don’t know what’s to come.” He softly advised her, delicately avoiding the two ‘hot’ topics attached to this issue of his—this ‘Absolute’ they had to kill and Mystra—while also not promising he wouldn’t take the sacrificial act.

Silence hung in the air around them, the tension growing with every held breath.

“I still wonder how Mystra got Elminster to walk the entire way though.” Gale chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood between the two, while unintentionally strolling right into the conversation Madi was trying desperately to avoid.

“It was a punishment for my actions.” Madi immediately admitted, her mouth salivating, threatening to purge the meal they had just finished consuming, immediately sick at the memories of Elminster’s shame at her betrayal, the guilt that she had not thought of how her actions would affect the man she considered her father, the fear of how Gale may hate her for it all.

Yet he just laughed, confused by her response, his light-hearted mannerisms remaining in his animated reaction, evidently not believing a single thing she said.

“Nonsense!” He claimed, giving her a light and playful push to her arm. “You made me look like a rebellious kid—”

“You were reckless at times.” Madi quickly interjected, the dread of the moment momentarily lifting from her chest, replaced by the flutter of a blooming connection—one her heart had been desperately longing to have for far too long.

“My point exactly.” Gale softly advised, the shift in his tone drawing Madi to look away from the campfire and towards him. But it was a mistake. A mistake to see how softly he watched her, how deep his eyebrows creased with anticipation and unspoken desires, how trepid he swallowed as his lips twitched with what he wished to continue to say.

It was a mistake because she couldn’t have it, she couldn’t have that confession of being missed, the apology for being pushed away, for being wronged by him for, in all of its great irony, she saw her actions mirrored in the man she loved. Where he betrayed his goddess to prove his love, she betrayed him to do the same.

‘If a sparrow and a dove sing the same song of longing and devotion, will the other hear it and return its call?’ Elminster had mused at her once, during a night of her spiralling into why she had turned away from Mystra, why she had betrayed her by turning away from her teachings and rules. It sounded like one of his trivial comments that was meant for nothing but whimsy and wisdom, but now those words rang through her mind as they connected to what she saw and what she reflected upon.

Sadly, there was no turning back now…no hiding from the truth.

“I…no longer use Mystra’s Weave for my magic, Gale.”

“You...what?” He didn’t even need to say more, Madi expected his quick mind to immediately connect that she called upon the Shadow Weave. All Madi could do was dip her head to rest upon her quickly drawn knees, ashamed under Gale’s judgement of her actions and depressed to know that he would be too bullheaded to be able to think of the reasons why she did it without her having to argue it with him. “Why!?”

And so it began…

Madi took a deep breath, steeling her nerves for the tongue-lashing she was anticipating from Gale while praying to whatever god of mercy there was to bestow upon him the grace to be patient and listen to her reason—but it was more likely for Mystra to intervene at this moment than for Gale to be given the ability of patience.

“How…I—” Madi found herself faltering, hesitating as she seemed to be making every wrong decision in this encounter. She knew she only had the option to be brutally honest, but it wasn’t what she wanted.

“Well?!” Gale impatiently tried to push the conversation forward, drawing an angry huff from Madi, sparking within her what she needed to lash out with the honesty she required at this moment.

“How was I to respect anything, goddess or mortal, that hurt you the way she did?” Madi asked, her breath shaken as she saw the anger twist behind Gale’s face, revolted by the idea Madi would turn against the Goddess of Magic for him and his pain. “She took everything from me, Gale!” Madi yelled, panicked as she watched the man she loved start to hate her, start to choose his past lover over her again.

“What could she have taken to cause you to do something so stupid!” Gale matched her energy, the both of them shooting to their feet, arms to their side, hands balled into fists until Madi gasped and fell back onto flat feet.

“You…you really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what? That you gathered the spite of a goddess for no reason? That you—”

“No reason, Gale?!” Madi yelled, a silence immediately falling to the rest of the camp as all chatter that had tried to remain while Madi and Gale argued died at the woman’s fury. “She is the mother of all magic, right?” Madi waited, huffing in fury as Gale’s eyes widened in confusion and, quite frankly, terror. “Right?!” Madi yelled, demanding Gale to respond. He jumped, shocked at the person he watched Madi twist into in front of him, before sharply nodding.

“Yes it is—”

“So then who else is to blame that I burnt my home to the ground before I was two? Who is to blame that my parents died at my hand? Who is the blame that the man I wanted to be my father could not?” Madi shot out an arm to point towards Elminster, the wizard dropping his head, his face hidden behind the brim of his hat to avoid the fact that it was Mystra who forbade him to adopt her as it would alter his ‘dedication to Mystra and keeping the realm in balance’.

“Surely she wouldn’t…” Gale tried to counter but his words failed him when his eyes reconnected to Madi’s to, no doubt, see the unbearable pain they held.

“She took everything and everyone I loved Gale, and when she took you I...” Madi’s words failed her as she watched Gale didn’t even flinch at her confession, “I was foolish, evidently, but I can’t take back my actions.”

“Madi…I—”

“No, Gale, just let me finish. It’ll be quick.” She promised, pausing for a moment only to confirm he would give her what she asked, a small nod was the only confirmation she got. Madi’s lip immediately quivered. “I understand a mortal could never compare but I just wanted to love you…I stupidly still do, and I have to accept it’s not what you want or how you see me just…don’t blow yourself up, Gale. Please. You are worth more than to be seen as a tool or to be loved solely for your magic.”

Madi turned around, Gale’s voice only beginning to travel to her ear before she shrouded the entire camp in shadow that drowned out all sounds and sights.

Her promise was done, she ventured with Elminster, she found Gale and now all that was left was to wait for them to reach the Nightsong.

Hopefully, by then, she’ll have thought of a way to convince Gale to go along with her plan and that Elminster wasn’t present to stop her either.

The darkness that shrouded the camp turned pale green before being sucked up into Madi like a vortex. As quick as the darkness came, it vanished from the camp, along with Madi, Gale’s voice being the only sound carried on the wind.

“I love you—”

@fangbangerghoul; - as promised ♥; @bearlytolerant - I thought you may wish to read as well ♥♥

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x oc #gale bg3 #gale romance #baldurs gate 3 #gale fanfic #gale dekarios fanfic #astarion ancunin #karlach cliffgate #booburry writes

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minihotdog · 4 months

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The Lass Next Door

Pairing: John "Soap" Mactavish x OC Isla

OC Appearance: Isla (aye-lah) is a Latina with curly brown hair.

a/n: Proofread like shit. I always imagined Soap having a wonderful mom <3

Word Count: 800

***

“Oh ma dear Johnny, ye’ll loe her!” John’s mom gleams into the phone. She stands next to the phone with a hand on her hip over her red flowery apron. A massive cheetah print clip pulls back her black curly hair.

“Aye, maw?” He smiles, happy to hear his mother’s warm and loving voice for the first time in months.

“She jist moved intae the toon and she’s a pure gem. I invited her fur yer dinner.”

“I cannae wait tae meet her, maw.”

She pulls away to yet at the two fighting kids running through the kitchen.

“Youse bairns are ower auld tae be carryin’ oan like the mad beasts! Tak’ a seat!” She huffs before putting the phone back to her ear.

“Yer wee nephews are drivin’ me aff ma heid.”

He chuckles, his oldest sister’s kids were the sweetest kids he’s ever met but when their mom isn’t around they could terrorize a village.

“So, whin will ye hae some weans o’ yer ain?” She probes.

“A’ll be there braw soon tae gie them a guid skelpin.” He says, ignoring the question she’s been asking for years.

***

“Oh, love, ah’m that excited fur ye tae meet ma ain, Johnny. It’s not often that he’s home.” She motions for you to sit at the table while she finishes up the cooking.

“Why’s that?” You question. With the way Ms. Mactavish speaks of her son, you’d imagine they’d hate being apart.

“He’s SAS, ye ken? He’s a pure success, Ah’m sae proud o’ ma boy.” She smiles really big. You can’t help but smile with her. The way she talks about him is so heartwarming.

Suddenly a loud thud erupts from the backyard. Ms. Mactavish goes running outside.

“Aye! Didnae I tell ye wee yins tae calm doon wi’ yer games?!”

Just then the front door swings open.

“Maw, I’m home!”

“Oh, Johnny!” She cries out, rushing inside. They embrace each other, he bends down to rest his head on her shoulder.

“Oh, how I missed ye!” She grabs his stubble-covered cheeks, giving them a pinch as he protests.

“Come oan, come an meet oor new neighbour, Isla.”

You stand to shake his hand with a friendly smile. Once he comes into the kitchen you’re a wave of shock washes over you.

This is the darling baby boy she’s been talking about?!

He’s massive. He towering over you, his ice-cold eyes match every member of his family present along with his black hair that was shaved at the sides into a mohawk. His shoulders are wide, his arms are muscular and covered in dark hair. Your eyes drop to his boyish grin and just below his lips a scar running along his chin. He’s all man, rugged as can be. His black shirt is a little too tight around his biceps and his jeans stretch over his thick thighs.

Oh dear god.

His massive hand takes your small one in a gentle shake. The callouses on his palm leave your skin buzzing and wanting more.

***Johnny’s POV***

I walk past the old door spotting the dents I’d made in it with a BB gun when I was about 12 years old. A smile glues itself to my face once the familiar scent hits my nose. It smells like home.

“Maw, I’m home!”

She comes running around the corner.

“Oh, Johnny!” She wraps me in her arms.

“Maw,” I mutter.

“Oh, how I missed ye!” Tears brim in her eyes. I try to shake her hands off when she pinches my cheeks like I’m still her wee boy.

“Come oan, come an’ meet our new neighbour, Isla.” She grabs me by the arm, dragging me to the kitchen. Upon turning the corner I see a lass-

Steamin’ Jesus-

Her long brown curly hair falls down her shoulders and back. A perfect background to contrast her figure, slim hourglass falling into her wide hips and a behind I couldn’t wait to peek at when she wouldn’t notice.

She’s wearing these big geeky glasses and behind them, I almost melt at the sight, two warm brown eyes. Her plump lips, little round chin, bone structure of a goddess with just enough roundness to her cheeks to keep her as cute as a doll, and her sunkissed skin unlike anyone I’ve seen in this town. Her t-shirt sticks to her figure and her jeans look like they’d only come off if they were cut.

I try to keep my eyes from wondering too much.

Oh fuck. This lassie is gonna pure make me keel ower.

“Eh! Isla?” I take her hand in mine, dwelling on how soft it feels and fits so perfectly in mine.

“Nice to meet you.”

Her voice, tha’ perfect smile… I may as well ask fur forgiveness now, maw, ‘cause I’m gonna start wheezin’ like a dog.

“Can I call you Johnny?” She asks me so politely.

Fuck’s sake, call me a bastard if ye like.

“Aye, bonnie, that’ll dae fur me.”

“Bonnie…?” She gets cut off by my rambunctious nephews running inside.

“Uncle Johnny!” They yell in unison and jump on me.

“Hey! I was talkin’ tae ma new pal ye scunners!” I laugh at the two, lifting both of them in separate arms.

“Hand on noo. Gie yersels intae yer seats, it’s time tae eat!”

#soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #john mactavish fic #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish imagine #john mactavish x oc #john soap mactavish x oc #soap x oc #soap x reader #myfic #cod fic

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adaptacy · 5 months

Text

A Found Flame {Pt.7}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: i haven't finished the game personally but i have seen (minor) spoilers of the epilogue and uhm... i feel so validated knowing what his job is after the events of the game. complete, even. so glad larian agreed with the fandom on this one :) also warning for slight mentions of smut/nsfw material!! no actual smut here, but just beware. MDNI

Word Count: 3.2k

The early morning went about as you’d expected; Serving salmon for the Tressym and warming up what remained of the mushroom stew despite it not being much of a morning meal. Seeing as how the stove was being used, you decided it best to make yourself a cup of coffee along with the soup, though the pairing wasn’t a very pleasant one. Better than nothing, as you weren’t sure you’d manage to survive the day without some form of caffeine, and coffee was the only way you knew how to access that booster. Once you finished your makeshift meal, you spent a little while cleaning the kitchen, and then found Tara waiting for you in the study, planted in front of a very familiar book.

“Flames and Fatalities,” you remark, and Tara purrs in response, pressing a paw to the left page, one claw unsheathing to tap at the passage she pointed to. You step closer to get a better look, and your hand rests on the back of Gale’s chair. You hesitate, unable to avoid the feeling that you’re lacking permission to sit in it. To sit at his desk. To take his spot. This chair isn’t meant for you, and you’re sure you’ll insult the tower by making any attempt to replace him. He isn’t here, and he isn’t dead either, and yet you struggle with the idea of disrespecting him.

“Oh, dear, it’s not going to eat you – Sit,” Tara mews, rolling her eyes at your conflict, and you force out a nervous chuckle. Pushing past the discomfort, you pull the chair out and take a seat, hovering on the edge of the chair, not wanting to take up any more room than absolutely necessary. Tara either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, as she pulls her paw away and tilts her head up, expecting you to read.

Clearing your throat beforehand, you give a meek roll of your shoulders and begin reading the passage. “Chapter six, Avoiding Accidental Amalgamations,” you over-pronunciate as you fight not to twist your own tongue on the words, “Spark spells and their synergies… Uh, fire and freeze frustrate– Gods, does everything have to be an alliteration?” You grumble, shaking your head.

“Wizards and their wordplay. Mr. Dekarios is merely a fraction of the pride most take in their language. Overdone, if you ask me. Carry on,” Tara dictates, and you nod, finding your place on the page once more. You continue to read aloud, going over the reactions of different spell types, ranging from fire, to force, to thunder, to psychic, and everything in-between. Including some you didn’t know of, despite all the reading you’ve been subjected to.

“Wouldn’t ‘radiant’ be the same as fire?” You ask, and Tara shakes her head, her tail flicking.

“Hardly! Oh, dear, this will be a long journey, won’t it?” She sighs, and you chuckle awkwardly, not sure if she means it as a tease or a slight. “Fire-based spells, such as the flame bolt you cast the other day, or more… trained skills, such as fireball, rely on heat; the physical form of sparks, blazes, and what have you,” she explains, her tail twitching, reminding you of Gale’s gesticulations whenever he explained similar topics. The parallels are amusing, making you feel a little more at ease with his absence. “Radiant spells, however, have direct connections to religion. The spells that devoted clerics or paladins most commonly use, for example, are usually spells that make use of their religion, which comes in the form of radiant lights. Examples of said spells include guiding light, sacred flame, and so on and so forth. Are you particularly devoted to a certain God or Goddess?” She asks.

“Well, I was closest to worshiping Mystra, since Gale was so fond of her, but not so much with my knowledge now. My parents both worshiped Lathander, but I never really ‘devoted’ myself to one specific deity,” you explain, leaning back in the chair, allowing yourself to get a little more comfortable.

“Radiant spells require the channeling of devotion, so it’s unlikely you’ll come across such spells in your practice. Anyhow, I do assure you that the two are quite distinctly different,” she reminds, and you give a small nod, returning to reading the passages in the book.

The ‘lessons’ (though it soon felt more akin to storytime as you read infodump after infodump aloud to Tara, and even she seemed bored after a while) continue until you reach the end of the chapter, at which point Tara promptly excuses herself for a nap. Frankly, you were surprised she didn’t doze off during your reading.

Scanning over the thirteen pages again, you decide that reviewing would best be saved for a time when you weren’t feeling so zapped. For all the reading you did, decoding the tongue-twisting alliterations took up most of your brain power, so the processing part of the lesson was sorely lost on you. Using a spare feather to mark your place in the book, you close the guide and stand up from Gale’s chair, only now realizing just how far you’d been sitting back on it. Any of your previous reservations seem to have been pushed entirely aside, and you glance around the study as if to offer apologies to the room.

Tara, resting in the small nook by the fireplace, appears to have already dozed off, and you’re left not entirely sure what to do with your time. Usually, at this point in the day, Gale would make a request of you, or allow you to find some story or written lecture to occupy yourself with, or you’d be in charge of picking up around the study, but…

With only you and Tara, there isn’t much of a mess to clean up after. Everything was exactly as you’d left it last night, save for the Flames and Fatalities book being removed from its usual place on the shelf, but you figure that it’s best to leave it out for now, as you expect to return to it before long.

You don’t need to make lunch, as you aren’t currently hungry, and there’s not the usual extra wizard to feed. It feels lonesome, really. You’re not much of an apprentice without a mentor. Not much of an assistant without a boss. Not much of yourself without him.

Mildly unsettled at the reminder, you do your best to think of some way to entertain yourself, and you are quick to recall the plans you’d made last night. Seeing as how Tara tends to sleep in his room, her napping in the study grants you a short, but sure, opportunity to ‘peek’ into his bedroom without fear of interruption.

Breaking and entering is hardly the right term! You live here too, and you’ve seen inside of it before, even if you haven’t necessarily been invited inside or actually ever stepped foot past his door.

Anyways, since the rest of the tower is remarkably tidy, you can only imagine the mess that awaits behind his door. Blaming it on your lack of direction, you figure the best way to stay in touch with your role as apprentice is to do some gentle rearranging and fixing of his bedroom. Almost like a gift to him, upon his return. He’d surely be delighted to find his private quarters in a much better condition than he left them.

And if you just so happen to find the rumored book that somehow completely changed his mind, you wouldn’t be complaining.

So, with a quick regard to Tara to ensure she’s paying no mind to you, you step towards the dark door that you’d only ever seen cracked open or completely closed. He’d never given a direct reason as to why he kept his private quarters so private. In his defense, you’d never asked, for fear of seeming disrespectful or potentially upsetting him.

Oh, how far you’d come.

Perhaps your comfort had festered into the slightest of flaws. It was fine in moderation. But maybe you were a little more comfortable than the term ‘moderation’ could bend to fit. Recently, you’d made quite the series of advances that certainly tested the limits of your business-based relationship with him. Though he was hardly innocent of making similar leaps in faith, and sometimes you wondered just how far you could take it. Of course, when you found your mind wandering, you were always quick to shut down such adventurous hypotheticals, as he was your mentor, and you, his apprentice. That was all it would ever be. Nothing more, and hopefully, nothing less.

Besides, he’d made it perfectly clear he was neither interested in nor gifted with the time he deemed necessary to pursue romantics. Between the pressing matter of the orb and how busy he was in his day-to-day life, you’re nearly positive that a relationship is the last thing on his mind at any given time.

The door creaks when you open it, and you cringe, but Tara remains settled and, by all appearances, soundly asleep. So you push it open just a little further, enough to awkwardly shimmy inside, and you’re met with a much stronger scent of dust and… sage?

There’s a bed, round and draped with messy indigo silk, in the middle of the room, pushed up against a wall with an equally circular window, the panes split into four sectors by silver dividers. Those dividers stop at a smaller circle in the middle of the window, forming a pretty design to compliment an even more gorgeous view of the water. You doubted that the balcony, as pretty of a sight as it offered, hardly surpassed the view that this window had, and it makes you wonder why he didn’t mention it when you previously asked if he missed the stars.

The room is, as you expected, in quite a disastrous state – The bed is lazily arranged, the four satin pillows messily strewn across the head, and the silk blanket is on the verge of dressing the floor rather than the mattress, making you wonder if he even bothers to make use of it when he sleeps. Bookshelves line a foot and a half of wall space on either side of the window, though the dust stacked up on most of them is visible even when you’re a few yards away, and you have to stifle a cough just thinking about trying to neatly clean them.

You’re quite sure that those bookshelves were incredibly neat once upon a time, but now the books lean in all different directions, making it obvious exactly where a book was plucked from the company of its comrades, and was never important enough to put back. It also helps that there are piles of books stacked around the room. There’s one stack to your left, just narrowly avoiding being knocked over by the arc of the opening door, and another one-and-a-half by the right side of his bed. A few other, shorter stacks litter the floor, most pushed against the nearest wall, though it does little to make the floorspace appear any neater.

There’s two rugs – one large dark blue rectangle that is unevenly layered underneath the foot of the bed, the longer sides stretching out to the left and right, and another small red square that nestles underneath a cat tree, and you realize that the natural wooden posts are the most probable cause of the underlying cedar scent of the room. Still, the sage goes unexplained, at least for the time being.

You close – or, nearly close – the door behind you, curious as to where exactly you should start searching. Or– tidying. Where you should start… tidying.

Naturally, you’re drawn to the bed. Despite the complaints of your initial hesitancy, you dare to take a seat on the edge of it, your hand brushing over the strikingly soft satin sheets, matching the maroon of the messy pillows, and you struggle to see a world in which a man who sleeps on this level of comfort could possibly wear the same weary exhaustion that Gale’s eyes do. Surely, anybody who was gifted this absolute perfection of a sleeping space would receive the best rest known to man, hells, even known to any of the gods. And still, it isn’t quite enough to balance the scales of Gale’s stress.

You frown, momentarily finding yourself pitying him, but you quickly shift your thoughts, knowing very well that pity won’t help anyone. Slightly subconsciously, you dare to arrange his pillows a little neater, lining them up against the fabric-wrapped, shell-like headboard. Continuing, you grab the silky indigo that washes over one half of the bed and pull it closer, and only then does the origin of the sage make itself known. Double-checking your assumption, you pull one handful of the blanket closer to your face, slowly inhaling, and your suspicions are confirmed. It shouldn’t come as any surprise that they smell exactly like him, but it does come as a surprise just how much that detail soothes you.

A little strange, you have to admit. Perhaps it’s the familiarity that has you grasping it a little tighter, running your thumbs over the impossibly soft texture, holding it close enough to continue enjoying the aroma. Barely has the sun managed a full cycle since he’s left, and gods, you miss him already. It’s embarrassing, a little shameful, and you don’t appreciate the places your hypothetical imagination wanders, contemplating the permanent loss of his company, how distraught such a development would render you.

So you hold the blanket for a little longer before eventually conceding, scoffing silently at your own perceived immaturity, and you return to your initial plans; straightening his bed. You fix the blanket, lightly tucking the edges between the mattress and the bed frame to keep them in place. You continue around the bed until your foot hits something beneath it, and you first believe it to be one of the feet of the bed frame, though it’s out of place, and uneven compared to the placement of the other supporting posts.

Allowing curiosity to get the best of you, you kneel, and find four books pushed underneath the bed, stacked too neatly to be accidental placements. Well, you did have two goals, after all. And maybe these are the books you’re looking for. So you reach underneath and pull out the stack, placing it on the bed. Interestingly enough, there is barely a lick of dust to be found on any of the books. There’s no title covers on any of them, not even a sewn in phrase or name on the spines of the books.

How mysterious…

It would be positively insane of you to not indulge and examine these books a little closer. And you’re nothing if not sane. So, you sit on the bed once more, even shuffling up to the head and getting a little more comfortable as you grab the book off of the top of the stack, the forest green leather showcasing mild signs of wear, as if it’s one that’s been combed through, maybe with more urgency than usual, many times. Your curiosity only builds with your anticipation, and you scan the inside of the spine, noticing a few poorly tagged folded corners of pages, as if to mark his place in the book, though given the appearance of multiple markings, you doubt that’s the true reason behind them.

Deciding to see what exactly intrigued him about the different sections, you open to the first folded page, expecting to find lectures on spells, or the weave, or magic, and…

What you find isn’t completely different from what you expected, but it’s definitely not what you would have imagined the Gale Dekarios owning in any universe. It doesn’t help that your eyes immediately locate the words ‘erotic’ and ‘stimulation’, but taking a moment to read the entire page does very little to assign those words to any normal context.

You knew he owned plenty of spellcasting books and story books, more than you knew to even exist, but finding an explanation on how sexual encounters ‘in’ the weave (whatever that might possibly mean) work was not ever included in your general assessment of his belongings. Part of you wants to assume that he only had this in his collection because of his endless studying of the weave’s potential uses, but the louder part of you is not paying much heed to Gale’s reputation.

And yet you find yourself reading on. Maybe his reputation isn’t the only reputation at risk.

All things considered, it’s quite an interesting read; from explanations on astral bodies and heightened senses, to the many ways that magic can be applied to more intimate occurrences, and it does make you just slightly more keen on learning how to manipulate magic like Gale can.

Not in these ways, of course!

But it does pique your curiosity, to say the least.

You read a page or two and then flip to the next dog-eared section, suspending any of your disbelief that this was actually happening, that he had such questionable literature stored away, and continue to read. At this point, you’re only digging him a deeper hole, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to see him the same way. This section of the book continues with the theme of magical intimacy, though delves into more personalized – ‘solo’ would be a better term – events.

There is a small attempt to pull your eyes away from the text, but it’s much like viewing a carriage crash, some spectacle of horror, only that the horror is embarrassment, and you’re unsure if you’re more ashamed of yourself for reading it, or of Gale for owning it! It’s no help that your imagination, as cursed as it surely is, is rather quick to form some fragmented image of Gale following the steps in the book and making far more degenerate use of his mage han–

The book is closed. Abruptly. Forcefully. You cannot read anymore. You shouldn’t have read that far, you shouldn’t have investigated, you shouldn’t even be in his room in the first place. If only you knew just how ‘private’ his quarters truly were.

There’s three more books. And you may never have another opportunity to learn about this side of him.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been curious before.

After all, he was involved with a goddess, and that was surely no easy feat.

But you know better. You’re prying, you’ve more than gotten back at him for ditching you, and you were raised better than to push boundaries. Boundaries that, mind you, you have snuck past, and you can already feel a burdened guilt beginning to stir inside of you. You place the green book back on top of the stack and push them under his bed once more, finishing up your tidying of his bed and you promptly leave, fully prepared to be haunted by your relentlessly imaginative mind for the next few days.

Still, you have to admit, for someone so objected to the idea of romantic pursuits, he sure does know how to keep himself satisfied. Or… so you assume.

Damn, you really need to find something else to think about.

#gale dekarios #gale x reader #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #gale baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #tara the tressym

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rottenpumpkin13 · 11 months

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Hey Genesis, where would be the best place to buy a copy of Loveless? I'm interested in reading it, but I have no idea where to pick up a copy...

SOLDIER Vlogging Shenanigans pt. 17

[The camera flickers on to show Cloud awkwardly filming himself. He's walking down a busy Midgar street, pointing the camera at Sephiroth and Genesis walking behind him. Genesis has his eyes glued to his phone]

"Dear Goddess," Genesis huffs, typing madly into the device, "I think my parents are swingers."

[Cloud snorts and starts laughing madly. Genesis looks up into the camera, all color draining of his face]

"Don't film this!" He snaps.

[The camera next cuts to Genesis's perfect influencer-esque camera angle filming himself, Sephiroth and Cloud walking down the street. It's notable to mention Genesis is wearing overpriced sunglasses that cover half his face]

"Okay!" Genesis grins. "This particular question warrants a field trip! Today we're in Loveless avenue in sector eight because—"

[In the background Sephiroth and Cloud are audibly arguing over the correct pronunciation of Laboratory—"Sir, with all do respect, no one on the continent pronounces it la-buh-ruh-tor-ee! It's la-bruh-tor-ee!" followed by “So what you’re saying is that I’m illiterate?” and then a breathless, “What!? No!”]

"—We're going to Greenly & Co, which is the best place to find any and all variations of LOVELESS including collectors' editions."

[He zooms the camera in on Cloud and Sephiroth]

“Today I’m joined by Sephiroth and Private Strife—”

“I’m babysitting,” Cloud cuts in, urging a numb grunt from Sephiroth and a pout from Genesis.

“Yes, insulting as it is, Angeal thinks it unwise to let Sephiroth and I out of the tower unsupervised—”

“Because the last time that happened you two caused a traffic jam in sector five,” Cloud added coolly. “Something about…You betting Sephiroth he wouldn’t be bold enough to jaywalk? And then he proceeded to launch himself into traffic.”

[Sephiroth’s lips are a thin line. He’s stiff as he walks]

“I didn’t fully understand the implications,” he mutters.

[Genesis scowls and flips the camera completely around on Cloud and Sephiroth. Cloud looks bored and smug. Sephiroth tightens his grip over his crossed arms]

“I’ll have you know, Strife, we were children then. Maturity comes at the behest of age.”

“That was last month,” Sephiroth mutters quietly.

[Genesis frowns and lowers his arm, turning the camera off]

[The video next cuts to a black screen. Shuffling and quiet swearing is heard, then a whir of motion before Cloud’s face pops up on screen. He looks completely horror-stricken, eyes wide as he looks all around the fancy bookstore he’s walking around in]

“So,” he briefly looks into the camera, “I’m fucked!”

[He pans the camera around shakily to show the book aisle he’s pacing down. Sephiroth and Genesis are nowhere in sight. Gaia help us all]

“I lost Sephiroth and Rhapsodos!” He pans the camera back to himself, running a trembling hand over his unruly spikes. “I don’t understand! They were here one minute and then the next they—”

[Somewhere off-camera, there’s a thunderous crash, followed by the sound of broken glass, then two swords unsheathing. Cloud stills momentarily before he hears Genesis’s voice (“It’s pronounced la-bruh-tor-ee, you scum of the planet!”) and then an explosion shakes the camera]

“Oh man, Hewley’s gonna kill me!” Cloud hisses, fumbling to turn the camera off and locate the two SOLDIERs.

[He ends the video]

#ffvii #genesis rhapsodos #crisis core #ff7 #crisis core headcanons #ffvii crisis core #angeal hewley #ff7r #sephiroth #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ffviir #soldier vlog

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itsclydebitches · 7 months

Text

BG3 Fic Prompts

I am once again creating a massive document of fics I want to write, to be updated whenever. This is 50% me keeping track of ideas, 25% giving the fandom ideas if they want to steal, and 25% pure entertainment.

“She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety.” Six times Karlach carried a party member and one time the whole group returned the favor. Bonus points if carrying her is pre-insulation upgrade so they have to get creative and/or sacrificial about it.

Similarly, Karlach/Character of Choice in a Pushing Daisies-esque situation, except on steroids. It’s not just that they can’t touch her, they’ll actively burn themselves if they get too close (so no easy kiss-through-Saran-Wrap solutions). They make it work though through the power of love, magic, and a fuck-ton of stubbornness. Ideas can differ greatly depending on who the partner of choice is. Example: Lae’zel toughing it out while Shadowheart curses and sprints to heal her; Astarion leaning into his flirty cad side: “Gale? Summon me a mage hand so I can slap that ass.”

Because the Gale romance bug remains one of my favorite things: angsty fic where he—in true BG3 fashion—misinterprets the most basic, bare-bones decency as love because he’s a) been groomed by a goddess since he was a boy and then abandoned by her in a way that makes him feel completely worthless and b) locked in a tower for a year+ with only his cat for company. Writer’s choice whether this results in Tav rejecting Gale and leaving him with the bittersweet realization that they may not Love him, but they do love him and this helps forward Gale’s recovery. OR

Narrator: Lying awake that night, you think back on your talk with Gale. He looked so handsome in the candlelight, even while devastated by your rejection, and you dwell on how unfortunate it is that you don’t return his romantic feelings.

Hmm…or do you?

Oh dear.

That Githyanki egg is going to hatch if it’s the last thing I do, even if it’s only in fic. Cue the absolute chaos of this found family/polycule parenting. You’d think Lae’zel would be some help in this but no. She’s not. She’s really, really not. (Doctor McCoy voice: “I’m a warrior not a creche tender!”) What do they feed the thing? Who gets to decide their name? How young is too young to start teaching them to wield a dagger? Spoilers: Withers is a surprisingly good babysitter and the only one with a braincell to draw on.

Wyll: I want a baby

Astarion: Give me a week. What color?

Tav, walking in with acid burns and a panicked Lae’Zel: You got green

More Gale angst because I’m trash: Yeah, yeah literally everyone in this party is hella touch-starved but this boy has a year of isolation on top of a kicked puppy personality hidden under that arrogant bravado. Astarion plays his needs off with charm and a supposed obsession with sex, Wyll and Karlach distract with cheer, Shadowheart and Lae’zel stoically power through… and then there’s Gale who’s going to get teary-eyed at the first clasp of his shoulder. Character of Choice gives him a hug one night and he just breaks. Full on sobbing, hyperventilating, holy-shit-this-is-embarrassing-but-now-that-I’ve-started-I-can’t-stop breakdown that’s exactly what he needs. Halsin might be a good choice for this.

Forced Lae’zel / Shadowheart bonding via the specific experience of two abused ex-cult members figuring out what kindness looks like.

Lae’zel: Tchk. I failed our leader in battle and they say only, ‘We’ll try again next time’? If this were a githyanki camp my blood would have dyed their armor red tonight.

Shadowheart: Indeed. The disciples of Lady Shar never would have stood for such indolence. There are no beatings for failing to rise with the sun and no one monitoring our rations. Gale gave me thirds last night!

Lae’zel: Why then do I… prefer this weakness?

Shadowheart: Worse, why do I agree with you?

I want to give my companions presents! Six times Tav gives a party member something they love—a githyanki tablet for Lae’zel, good wine for Wyll, etc.—and one time they give Tav something back. Or, alternatively, one time Tav refrains from giving a gift and the recipient ends up appreciating that even more. Example: not letting Shadowheart get ahold of any Dark Justiciar armor.

Obligatory “Astarion is insecure about not being able to see his reflection and someone helps him with magic/drawing” fic that I may or may not be working on atm.

Equally obligatory The Last Unicorn reference where Asatrion has a rage-driven breakdown, screaming at Tav for not being this selfless hero when he needed them. Everyone ignores the realities that, you know, Tav probably hadn’t even been born yet, because they understand that Astarion just needs to Let It Out. This segues into reassurances that they’ll be there for Astarion in the future. End fic. Sike! Plot twist. The party winds up in the past due to plot shenanigans and are like, “Holy shit. We can rescue Astarion.” Except it turns out they can’t because that would totally fuck with the timeline (idk if that’s actually the case in D&D. I just watch a lot of Doctor Who), but they’re at least able to assist him in some small way/comfort him/give him hope for the next 100+ years. They wind up back in their own time where Astarion suddenly realizes that the absolutely insane, weird-as-balls group he met a century ago and whose kindness he's been leaning his sanity on is his group and there are ~emotions~.

Hurt/Comfort Bloodweave fic where Astarion, as the rogue, does the best job of finding (read: stealing) items for Gale to feed on. He’s really good at it, to the point that when they get together he starts to fear that’s the main reason why Gale is ‘bothering’ to stay with him. After all, what the hells else does he have to offer? Especially now that he’s pulling back from sex as a primary incentive? Someone loving Astarion for who he is? Absurd. Someone needing Astarion’s talents to keep themselves fed? That he understands. That’s familiar. Cue Gale cycling through obliviousness (necessary intervention from another party member?), horror, and finally reassurance.

Wyll teaches the party to dance one night when they’re all bored. Bonus points if Astarion is insulted af because his moves from two centuries ago aren’t cool anymore. Bonus bonus points if Withers turns out to be really good.

Honestly, I feel like we’ve been sleeping on Withers in general. Granted, I haven’t finished the game yet so I’m sure there’s stuff that hasn’t been revealed to me yet, but he’s a skeleton that randomly appears in your camp, makes himself at home, changes reality for you provided you've got the funds, tuts about your love life, and is surprisingly good with kids. There’s so much potential in that.

“I hate this place. I want to go to Build a Bear!” Total crack fic featuring the Faerûn equivalent of Build a Bear: a kindly toymaker with lots of simple stuffed animals that he’ll personalize for you with clothes, accessories, embroidery, etc. Karlach has the time of her life (as does everyone else, even if they won’t admit it).

#BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 prompts #BG3 fic prompts #Astarion #Gale #Karlach #shadowheart #lae'zel #Wyll #bloodweave

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poseidonsdaughterthesiren · 2 months

Text

The Daughter of Poseidon: Chapter Seven

Waves swooshed back and forth. Seagulls sang in the distance.

Della opens her eyes to see an island. Not just any island, Circe’s Island. She hasn’t been here…since she was thirteen.

Three figures stand off in the distance. Young Della, Percy, and Annabeth.

Della moves closer to them.

“Well, I suppose…” Past Annabeth and Della said.

“Right this way dears!” Hylla said. She leads them away from Percy.

Della follows them.

It skipped forward a bit to young Della in a chair.

Annabeth seated behind her. Her hair combed into an old Greecian hairstyle. She looked like Helen of Troy. Her curly brown hair was wrapped in gold with a few stray curls framing her face.

Young Della wore a light blue lagoon gown and two gold armbands. Two girls combed and braided her wavy blonde hair.

“Ah..there we go,” Hylla said. “A look just as perfect as a goddess. Are you sure you’re a daughter of Poseidon? I think Aphrodite would envy your beauty if she doesn’t already.”

Time sped up again.

This time Young Della and Annabeth stood in a room facing a cage of guinea pigs. They tried to figure out which one was Percy.

“Well,” Circe sighed, “How fast a minute passes. Have you made your decision yet?”

“This!” Annabeth held out her dagger.

Della pointed Leda at her.

Circe stepped back, but the surprise passed quickly.

“Really girls, a knife and a blade against my magic?”

The scene paused.

Circe angles her head towards me. “Ah, look at you, my dear! Just as beautiful as the day you fled my island.”

Della glances uncertainly at Circe. “What do–”

“Oh, I want nothing from you dear. You are Hera’s gamble now.”

“Gamble–”

“Yes, how I wished you and the Athena girl stayed. Would have made beautiful sorceresses indeed. But your fate is set in stone.” The sorceress places something in Della’s hand.

Della opened her hand to see a very old Greek coin with Poseidon on it. Circe had fashioned it into a necklace.

“We don’t have much time,” Circe mumbles, “Remember Adella Jackson you are a daughter of Poseidon, much different than Perseus. You are not his shadow young one. I have seen your future…you are more powerful than you know. Now Wake up!”

⬳

Della wakes up to Jason shaking her. She opens her hand to find Circe’s necklace. She quickly fastens it around her neck.

Below them, a city sat on a clifftop overlooking a river. The plains around it were dusted with snow, but the city itself glowed warmly in the winter sunset. Buildings crowded together inside high walls like medieval town. In the center was an actual castle, with massive red brick walls and a square tower with a peaked green roof.

“Tell me that’s Quebec and not Santa’s workshop,” Leo says.

“Yeah Quebec City,” Piper confirms. “One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so.”

Leo raises an eyebrow, “Your dad do a movie on that too?”

She makes a sour face at him. “I read sometimes, okay? Just cause Aphrodite claimed me doesn’t mean I’m a complete airhead!”

“Feisty,” Leo laughs. “So if you know so much, what’s that castle?”

“A hotel, I think.”

“No way,” Leo laughs.

The closer they got Della notices doormen, vallets, and porters taking bags. Sleek luxury cars idle in the drive. People in elegant suits and winter cloaks hurry to get out of the cold.

“The North Wind is staying at a hotel?” Leo asks, “That can’t be–”

“Heads up guys we got company!” Jason interrupts.

Down below two winged figures–angry angels, with nasty-looking swords launch themselves from the top of the tower.

Festus does not like the looks of the angel guys. He swoops to a halt in midair, wings beating and talons bared, and he makes a rumbling noise in his throat.

“Steady, boy,” Leo says.

“I don’t like this they look like storm spirits,” says Jason.

“Ummm,” Della says, “They look too solid to be storm spirits.”

They look like regular teenagers, except for their icy white hair and purple wings. Their bronze swords appear like jagged icicles. The two could pass for brothers, they were similar enough, but there was no way they were twins.

One was the size of an ox, with a bright red hockey jersey, baggy sweatpants, and black cleats. This guy is definitely a fighter both his eyes were black as though he’d just been in a fight. It didn’t help when he bared his teeth some of them were missing.

The other one looks like an eighties rock album cover. His white hair styled into a curly mullet. He wore pointy-toed shoes, designer pants, and a gods-awful silk shirt with three buttons open.

The angels pull up and hover in front of the dragon.

“No clearance,” grunts the hockey ox.

“Scuse me?” asks Leo.

“You have no flight plan on file,” explains the groovy love god. His French accent is horrible it has to be fake. “This is restricted airspace.”

Festus begins to hiss steam, ready to defend the demigods. Jason flips his coin to reveal his sword. Della taps Leda’s beak twice to reveal a spear.

“Hold on!” Leo cries. He spreads his arms out. “Let’s have some manners here. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?”

“I am Cal!” the ox grunts. He has a look of pride like he’d said his lines correctly.

“That’s short for Calais,” the love god sighs, “Sadly, my brother cannot say words more than two syllables–”

“Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!” Cal offers.

“–which includes his own name.”

“I am Cal,” Cal repeats, “And this is Zethes! My Brother!”

“Wow,” Leo says, “That was almost three sentences! Way to go my man!” Cal grunts obviously pleased with himself.

“Stuupid Buffon,” Zethes grumbles, “They make fun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short for Zethes. And the ladies there–”

He winks but it appears more like a facial seizure.

“They can call me anything they like. Perhaps they would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we destroy you?”

Piper makes a sound like gagging on a cough drop, “That’s truly…a horrifying offer.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Della coughs.

“It is no problem,” Zethes wiggles his eyebrows, “We are very romantic people, we Boreads.”

“Boreads?” Jason cuts in, “Like the sons of Boreas?”

“Ah! So, you have heard of us!” Zethes smiles. “We are our father’s gatekeepers. So, you understand we cannot have unauthorized people flying in his airspace on creaky dragons, scaring the silly mortal people.”

Della glances down to see mortals pointing up at them. Though they weren’t scared, no, they seemed annoyed, like the dragon was a traffic helicopter flying too low.

“Which is sadly why, unless this is an emergency landing,” Zethes says, brushing his hair out of his acne-covered face, “We will have to destroy you painfully.”

“Destroy!” Cal agrees way too enthused by the idea.

Della clutches Leda a little more.

“Wait!” Piper says, “This is an emergency landing.”

“Awww,” Cal says.

Zethes studies Piper, which he already had been doing. “How does the pretty girl decide this is an emergency then?”

“We have to see Boreas. It’s totally urgent! Please?” She puts a smile on her beautiful face. Her voice sounds smooth and rich like chocolate. Damn, Aphrodite kids. Piper nudges Della to follow her example.

Della lowers Leda just a bit and smiles just a bit.

Zethes picks at his shirt, probably to make sure it is opened wide enough. “Hate to disappoint ladies, but you see, my sister would totally have an avalanche if we allowed you–”

“Our dragon is malfunctioning!” Piper says, “It could crash at any minute!”

Festus shudders trying to help. Then turned to spill gunk out of his ear, splattering on a black Mercedes down below.

“No, destroy?” Cal whimpers.

Zethes ponders this for a moment then glances up at Della and Piper. He winks again. “Well, you are both very pretty. I mean–you’re right. A malfunctioning dragon, this could qualify as an emergency.”

“Destroy them later?” Cal offers.

“It will take some explaining,” Zethes says, “Father has not been kind to visitors lately. But, yes. Come, follow us, faulty dragon people. Follow us.”

Leo turns to the rest of his party, “I love these guys! Follow them?”

Della, Jason, and Piper exchange looks of dread.

“I guess,” Jason decides, “We’re here now. But I wonder why Boreas hasn’t been kind ot visitors.”

Della taps Ledas beak. “You’ll find that’s a recurring theme on quests.”

“Pfft, he just hasn’t met us yet. Festus follow those flashlights,” Leo says.

Leo manuvers Festus to follow the Boreads. After a few close turns, they descend after them into the tower through a hatch wide enough for Festus. The top and bottom were lined with icicles that resembled jagged teeth.

“That can’t be good,” Jason mutters.

The land in what must be the penthouse suite. The penthouse suite frozen in ice. The entry hall’s vaulted ceiling was forty feet high. Huge draped windows and lush orientals lined the room. A staircase at the back of the room leads to another massive hall, and multiple corridors venture left and right. The ice made it feel just a tad frightening.

“Guys,” Leo says, “Fix the thermostat in here, and I would totally move in.”

“Somethings–” Della starts.

“...Wrong,” says Jason, “Something up there.”

Festus shudders and snorts flames. Frost begins forming on his scales.

“No. No. No. We can’t have flames in here!” Zethes says. He marches over to them. “The Dragon must be deactivated. We cannot have heat in here. I truins my hair.”

“Like that’ll make a difference,” Della whispers to Piper.

She stifles a giggle in her hand.

Festus growls and spins his teeth.

“S’okay boy,” Leo says, “The dragon’s a little touchy about being deactivated. But I’ve got a better solution.”

“Destroy?” Cal asks.

“No man. You gotta stop with the destroy talk. Just wait–”

“Leo,” Della says nervously, “What’re you–”

“Relax, Katara,” Leo says, “When I was repairing Festus last night, I found all sorts of buttons. Some, you do not want to know what they do. But other…ah, here we go.”

Leo hooks his fingers behind the dragon’s left foreleg. He pulls a switch, and the dragon shudders from head to toe. Everyone backs away as Festus folds like origami. His bronze plating stacks together. His tail and neck contract into his body. His wings collapse and his trunk compacts until he is the size of a suitcase.

“Ta-da! The world’s heaviest carry-on bag!” Leo says.

“That’s impossible something that big–” Jason says.

“Enough! Zethes says. He and Cal drew their swords and pointed them at Leo.

Della reaches for Leda and taps her beak unleashing the sword.

Leo raises his hand in surrender. “Okay…what’d I do? Stay calm, guys. If it bothers you that much, I don’t have to take the dragon as a carry-on–”

“Who are you?” Zethes points the tip of his blade at Leo’s chest. “A child of the South Wind spying on us?”

“What? No! I’m a son of Hephaestus, a friendly blacksmith, no harm to anyone!”

Cal growls. He puts his face up to Leo’s. “Smell fire. Fire bad.”

“Oh,” Leo says. The poor boy has sweat dripping down his forehead. “Yeah well…my clothes are singed, I’ve been working with oil, and–”

“No!” Zethes pushes Leo back at sword point. “We can smell fire, demigod. We assumed it was from the creaky dragon, but now the dragon is a suitcase. And I smell fire…on you.”

Della glances at Leo who looks ready to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West.

“Look…I don’t know…” He glances at the rest of the group. “Guys, little help?”

Jason already had his gold coin in hand. He glances at Della who holds her sword in hand. Jason moves forward, eyes on Zethes.

“Look there’s been a mistake. Leo isn‘t a fire guy. Tell them, Leo. Tell them you’re not a fire guy.”

“Ummm…”

“Zehtes?” Piper tries her dazzling smile again. However, she looks too nervous to pull it off. “We’re all friends here. Put down your swords and let’s talk.”

“This girl is pretty,” Zethes admits, “and of course, she cannot help being attracted to my amazingness. Sadly, I cannot romance her at this time.” He pokes his sword into Leo’s chest and frost begins to spread across his shirt.

“Destroy him now?” Cal asks.

“Sadly, I think–”

“No,” Jason insists. He sounds calm, but Della knew this tone. It’s a tone she’s heard Percy, Annabeth, and even herself use. A tone that means ‘one wrong move and I will destroy you.’

“Leo is not a threat. He is a son of Hephaestus. Piper here is a daughter of Aphrodite. Della’s the daughter of Poseidon. And I’m a son of Zeus. We are here on a peaceful–”

“What did you say?” Zethes demands. You’re a son of Zeus?”

Della points Leda at Zethes. “What about it.”

“Ummm…yeah, that’s a good thing, right? My name is Jason.” Jason holds an arm out to keep Della from advancing on the pair of idiots.

Cal appears so startled he almost drops his sword. “Can’t be Jason,” he says. “Doesn’t look the same.”

Zethes steps forward and examines Jason’s face. “No, he is not our Jason. Our Jason was more stylish. Not as much as me–but stylish. Besides, our Jason died a milienna ago.”

“Wait,” Jason says. “Your Jason…you mean the original Jason? The Golden Fleece guy?”

“Of course,” says Zethes. “We were his crewmates abroad the Argo, in the old times when were mortal demigods. The we accepted immortality to serve our father, so I could look goo for all eternity, and my brother could enjoy pizza and hockey.”

“Hockey!” Cal agrees.

“But Jason, our Jason–he died a mortal death,” Zethes says, “You can’t be him.”

“I’m not,” Jason confirms.

“So, destroy?” Cal asks.

Della steps next to Jason her sword at the ready.

Jason gives her a look of not yet.

“No,” Zethes sighs. “If he is a son of Zeus, he could be the one we’ve been watching for.”

“Watching for?” Leo asks. “You mean like in a good way like you’ll shower him with fabulous prizes? Or watching for in a bad way like he’s in trouble?”

“That depends on my father’s will,” says a feminine voice.

Della glances up the stairs to see a girl about her age in a long silk gown. The girl is so pale she resembles snow. Her hair was a lush mane of black, and her eyes were coffee brown. The girl focuses on Leo analyzing him. The air she gave was cold and it wasn’t just because of the apartment’s frigid temperatures.

“Father will want to see the one called Jason,” she says.

“Then it is him?” Zethes says.

Leo grabs the handle of Festus the suitcase. Before he can make it two steps, the girl freezes him in his steps. Not with ice but with the intensity of her gaze.

“Not you Leo Valdez.”

“Why not?” Leo whines like he actually whines.

“You cannot be in the presence of my father. Fire and ice it would not be wise.”

“We’re going together,” Jason says. He places his hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Or not at all.”

Della gives Jason a look. This wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was the best offer they would get. “Don’t test our luck Wonder Boy.”

“Listen to your friend, he will not be harmed Jason Grace, unless you make trouble. Calais, keep Leo Valdez here, Guard him, but do not kill him.”

“Just a little?” Cal pouts.

“No,” the girl says, “And take care of that interesting suitcase until Father passes judgment.”

Jason and Piper look at Leo asking the silent question: How do you want to play this?

“It’s fine guys,” Leo says, “Della’s right, this is the best way not to cause trouble. Go ahead.”

Della taps Leda’s beak returning the sword to pendant form. She pats Leo on the shoulder. “Be careful, don’t let him push you around,” she whispers.

“Leo Valdez will be safe. I wish I could say the same about you, Jason Grace. Now come, King Boreas is waiting.”

#oc character #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percy and annabeth #percyjacksonxsister!reader #fanfic #jason grace x jackson!reader #jason grace x reader

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lustrous-dawn · 3 months

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The wafting aroma of tea in front of him did nothing to assuage his nervousness. He hadn't noticed Abilene’s silent departure, leaving the both of them alone.

It's all your fault, a vicious part of him began to whisper in the still silence. She’ll be disappointed in you. Ashamed like the rest of them. That ugly voice taunted him until he painfully squeezed his eyes shut, desperately wanting away.

Yes. He blamed himself for-

“Zhen.” Her voice was a line at sea. He desperately reached and grabbed ahold, freeing himself from the torment of his inner thoughts.

His eyes flickered upward briefly. He couldn't meet her eyes. How could he? He could see her claws hesitating on the table before he looked away.

“Nakhti. Don’t worry about me.” The words were automatic for him. Always so quick to put someone at ease. But his voice lacked his usual spirit. His tone was that of utter defeat.

“Child, be honest. You are flying away from us,” her voice a harsh whip, causing him to flinch. This was why he avoided her. Abilene and her kindness were nothing like a mother and her blunt honesty. She knew him too well, did Nahkti. His eyes remained firmly planted on the table, his shoulders knotting.

Was he?

“And you chose to confide in no one? Dear.” He flinched. He was prepared to see him condemned in her eyes. But he would not look. Not now.

A gentle touch, her paw cupping his cheek as she coaxed him to look up. He was reluctant, he held his ground, his hands balled up into tight fists on the table.

“Look at me, Zhen.”

He relented, listening to her beguiling tone.

Her kind eyes contained worry, her claws gently pushed away the strands of hair that tumbled in front of his eyes as he sat there, frozen.

“You deserve so much more than what has been done to you. They took from you and still, you provided without ever asking for more. You have such a kind heart, Zhen. One others will take advantage of.”

A tender claw touched his chest, over the pulse that roared in his ears. “I know you have only just freed yourself but please try to release the cage surrounding your heart. Allow it to be free just as you are.”

A moment of silence as Zhen looked at her claw. Then he spoke, his voice of a broken sob, “How can I ever be free of this? It hurts, Nakhti. It hurts.” He clutched onto her claw and held it close.

“I tried for them, Nakhti. I tried so very hard for them,” he lamented. And time after time, they shunted him all the same.

“He glows bright yet he cannot heal.”

“What an incompetent god.”

“He wastes away in her nest. Our goddess borne from this?! Leave him there to rot. He deserves nothing.”

Venomous whispers were like a deadly Seviper, plunging deep into his body. He would spill blood for them and he knew they wouldn't bat an eye in his direction as he lay there, bleeding out.

Eyes filled with scorn and loathing. They were revolted by his existence. It was suffocating to remain a moment longer in the tower.

But he stayed out of duty, out of necessity.

He clenched his teeth, thrusting a hand through his hair.

“I defended that damn tower and still yet they threw stones at me.” Anger flooded his voice, the gold in his eyes becoming intense.

He would never forget.

The look of shock on his face as he felt a blow, a sharp stone cutting deep above his eye. And the rage it invoked as he stared down the culprit clutching another stone for dear life.

“See how he burns down her life’s work! All that we strived for!” Words from a frantic monk cowering before the Ho-oh as he stalked closer.

He was only trying to defend it from the likes of Zapdos and its lightning. And this fool had blamed him for the tower?!

“No. More.” He uttered in the space between them. He clutched at his head, at the wound that had long since healed as it throbbed in memory. “I did it, Nakhti,” he whispered, here and now. “I wanted to burn down that tower for what they had done to me.

And I nearly did.” His gaze appeared haunted, scenes of the past replaying in his mind and he slumped in his seat. “Until he stopped me.”

Kazuki, the Northern Wind. A torrent of water had stopped him in his tracks. The Suicune stared him down, unflinching and the winds had whipped around them, tearing into his wings. It was then he realized what had happened, fire and crumbling wood surrounding him.

“So you see, Nahkti. I don't deserve your kindness.” He laughed, a hollow one. “Not after what I have done. Not anyone's.”

“And that is where you are wrong.”

He found himself gathered in her arms.

“My child. What they have done to you. They paid for it dearly. They only needed to show you kindness and all they have done was wound you. You lashed out, you showed remorse and you accepted blame. You will always remember what you have done but I know it was not done out of malice. You were so hurt, weren’t you?”

That was what broke him. Her unconditional love.

She tipped his head back. She dabbed at the tears shining wet in his eyes. “Allow me to show you something, Zhen.”

He was helpless to her, following her as she led the way. Her claw rested upon a sliding door, she whispered, “Look inside,” as she slid it open.

He stepped inside to see the children sleeping beneath the kotatsu, Tora sprawled out, Arashi resting on his arms.

In the center: a small shrine the children labored at completing. It nearly looked finished.

“They have been working at it since you left for the gala. A god always has a shrine, no?”

He wiped away at his eyes, lowering to his knees.

Nakhti placed a gentle touch on his shoulder. “You are wanted, Zhen. You have those who care about you, myself included. Allow us in from time to time and we’ll welcome you with open arms.”

She left him, alone with his shrine, with the children.

He laughed once more, shaking his head. “Wanted…” His voice was in disbelief. His fingers carefully touched the shrine. It was near flawless. Perfect even. It suited him. Modest, small.

His gaze flickered towards the children. “You guys… really must like me.”

#Zhen #Nakhti #Arashi #Tora #Plot #*

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rottencandyapp1es-writeblog · 7 months

Text

Like Real People Do

(Hylia/Fierce Deity) (SFE)

The inky blue of the evening sky seemed to boast even more brilliant stars than usual across the land of Hylia; the roar of the late summer heat now a faint whimper. On that night, in a village safely tucked behind a dense forest, a small festival took place. The chattering of cicadas echoed throughout as the villagers danced and sang under a string of softly colored lights, hung hours before in anticipation. Several tables boasting a colorful array of roasted pheasant, seasonal vegetables and sweets sat neatly in rows of three. A small statue of the goddess Hylia was nestled in the middle of it all, sporting a crown woven with peonies and marigolds.

Little did they know that goddess was observing their little get-together from afar, alongside her companion.

Perched on a cliff, feet dangling over the edge, the two sat together as they quietly observed the spectacle below. Eventually, Hylia spoke.

"What do you suppose they're talking about?"

The towering figure beside her remained silent for a few moments before he spoke, his profile illuminated by the pale moonlight. "Hopefully they are talking about the coming winter and how to prepare for it. They do not seem ready at all."

Hylia snorted, "I meant the cicadas, Kishin."

"......The...cicadas."

Hylia could almost feel his brow furrowing in confusion as she leaned forward, "Well it is their mating season, so-"

Kishin barked out a small laugh, a rare smile cracking through his usually stony features. "That seems like a private matter, and definitely not something I would like to know." He turned to her and smirked "But tell me, what do you think they are saying?"

Hylia tapped her chin in mock thought, "Hmmm.... Maybe something along the lines of "Come to me! Love me! Never leave me!"

As she said it, Hylia raised the pitch of her voice and dramatically gestured with her hands, causing Kishin to burst out laughing.

"Ah of course!" he cackled as Hylia dissolved into a fit of giggles herself.

As the fearsome god of war, Kishin took his duties very seriously; but tonight, his usual silver armor was exchanged for a pale blue tunic. Ever stoic and solemn, it was unlike him to be so relaxed. While Hylia admired his strength and steadfastness, she couldn't help but take joy in seeing her dear friend at ease for once.

Eventually their laughter died down and they resumed their watch of the village festivities. While things were starting to die down, there were still some couples dancing together. They gleefully spun across the small stretch of grass, hands tightly clasped together. Hylia couldn't help but be mesmerized by them, which didn't go unnoticed by Kishin.

As their goddess who swore to protect them at any cost, Hylia held considerable affection for the mortals and their various customs. She guarded them, as well as the land itself, with a ferocity unlike any other. Kishin admired her greatly for her unending devotion and compassion.

Not that he could ever vocalize it.

"How wonderful! We get to see the Lover's Waltz!" Hylia said with a soft, dreamy smile.

"....Lover's Waltz?"

"It's mostly done at celebrations, primarily weddings; in fact, it's often the first dance that a newly married pair does at their reception."

"I see." Kishin said softly. He remained quiet for a moment before he spoke again, "Have you ever...danced like that before with someone?"

Hylia gave a small chuckle at his query. "Ah, unfortunately no. I'm not one for dancing."

"The way you move on the battlefield suggests otherwise."

"Oh that's different and you know it! Hylia dismissively waved her hand, blushing inwardly at his compliment. "As precious as Fi is to me, a sword is hardly a passable dance partner...... How about you?"

"I have not." Kishin stated matter-of-factly.

"....I see."

The two sat in silence, listening to the wind as it effortlessly glided through the trees behind them. Suddenly, Hylia stood up and extended her hand towards her still-seated companion. Curiosity glinted in Kishin's eyes as he looked at her.

"Care to dance?" Hylia said with a smile.

Kishin blinked, "Come again?"

"I think we should try it! Dance with me!"

"Do not be ridiculous. I will probably just trip all over you."

Hylia placed a hand on his shoulder before he could turn away. "You really think I'll fair any better? Who's really being ridiculous here?"

Hylia once again offered her hand to him. With a smile and a shake of the head, Kishin rose to his feet and faced her, "Alright fine, but let us move inward; I would rather we not tumble off this cliff in the process." He reached out and took her hand in his, calluses meeting calluses.

Hand-in-hand, the two made their way to a nearby clearing, where fireflies danced amongst the flora and the moonlight seemed to shine even brighter than before. Once they reached the middle, Hylia began her instruction.

"I'll wrap my hand around yours. Now wrap your other arm around me. A little higher. Good! Now my hand goes on your shoulder...."

"Are you sure this is right?"

"Of course I am!" Hylia's golden eyes met his stark white, causing her to pause and revel in the closeness of their bodies. Fighting against the blessed butterflies that now fluttered relentlessly in her chest, she continued:

"Now you take one step forward and I'll take one back. To the side. Back together. Again! Foward. Side. Together. Once more! Foward. Side. Together. Annnd that's it! Those are the basic steps; we just repeat them."

Kishin let out a breathless laugh as they broke apart, smiling brighter than even the most dazzling of stars, "Hah! That was not to bad!"

Hylia grinned, shooting her own beams of light back at him, "I knew you'd be a fast learner! Well done!"

"Why thank you. I had a good teacher." This time he was the one to extend his hand to her, "Shall we continue?"

"But of course!"

#legend of zelda #zelda #loz #tloz #the legend of zelda #hylia #goddess hylia #fierce deity #hyrule historia #hylink #zelink #legend of zelda fanfiction #zelda fanfiction #loz fanfic #zelink fanfiction #hylink fanfiction #one shot

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moltz23 · 8 months

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Random Three Houses & Hopes Trivia: How Edelgard & Dimitri's relationship is shockingly far more convoluted than you would think.

...And arguably how it's also kinda contrived, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

A few weeks ago, I had a realization about something surrounding Edelgard's past which lowkey explains her whole dynamic with Dimitri a ton better than the generally accepted theory that the experiments "those who slither in the dark" did to Edelgard affected her memory (not saying it isn't a factor, mind you). After sharing my thoughts with the Three Houses subreddit, people pointed I either got some facts wrong or was missing some key details, so I went back and did a more thorough research on the whole topic again. And once getting a full picture of the whole situation, I feel it was worth making this post.

To explain what I mean by claiming that Edelgard & Dimitri's relationship is shockingly complicated, we first need to go over everything both Three Houses and its Warriors spinoff tells us about their shared past and experiences:

1. Edelgard in the Goddess Tower scene says her first love was a noble from the kingdom a lifetime ago.

2. In the Blue Lions event "Childhood Memories", Dimitri says the following about his past with Edelgard:

Dimitri: We were born and raised in different territories, without ever knowing the other even existed. Yet, against all odds, for just over a year, we became childhood friends. [...] Unaware of each other's stations or backgrounds, we met and became incredibly close. This was when she and Lord Arundel were living in the Kingdom.

Incidentally, Dimitri also says this in his A-Support with Hapi:

Dimitri: As [Anselma/Patricia] was seeking asylum from the Empire in the Kingdom, Lord Arundel was obligated to hide the Imperial princess's whereabouts. She would undoubtedly have become a political pawn in the Kingdom as well. If her location had gone public, the Empire would have demanded her return. [...] I did not realize until much later that the girl I'd met under such strange circumstances was my stepsister.

3. In the AM event "Questions and Answers", Edelgard is noticeably shocked when Dimitri gives her the dagger back, which brings back the memories of when it was gifted to her. Besides realizing Dimitri was that kid, she also calls him once afterwards "My dear, forgotten friend...".

Oh, and Dimitri also calls her "El" a few times, which is important.

4. In Three Hopes, in one of Edelgard's Expedition lines, she recalls the following about how she got her dagger:

Edelgard: Have I told you about the boy who gave me the dagger? I called him "Dee," which is all I really remember about him.

5. In Edelgard's A-Support with Byleth, she mentions near the end how "there's no one left who calls me El..."

6. In Cindered Shadows, this exchange happens the second time you get to explore during the side-story:

Dimitri: Pardon the odd question, but something has been bothering me for a while now. Your hair...was it always that color?

Edelgard: That is an odd question. But yes, if you must know, it was a different color when I was a child. How could you know that? Is it possible that we met before the academy?

7. And finally, in Three Houses itself, not only any mentions of Edelgard calling Dimitri by name in flashbacks were removed with the last update in the English script, checking the OG Japanese one with Fedatamine.com reveals Edelgard never outright called Dimitri by name in those flashbacks, meaning the changes made to the EN script post-launch were likely done for consistency's sake (as in, the localization took some liberties with the Edelgard and Dimitri flashbacks, the devs likely noticed them, and ordered the translation team to remain faithful to the OG script).

In short, the "tl;dr" version of the whole Edelgard & Dimitri dynamic, in both Three Houses and Three Hopes, is that:

Dimitri recalls all of his past time with Edelgard back when they were kids. He remembers growing close enough to Edie to call her "El", but admits that neither Edelgard nor him knew who the other really was by then. Dimitri also states he eventually put two-and-two-together long after Edelgard had left the kingdom.

Edelgard meanwhile, remembers meeting a boy in the Kingdom whom she once had a crush on. She called him "Dee", recalls receiving her dagger from him and... That's pretty much it.

What exactly does this all mean then?

It means that, not only Edelgard does not remember her past with Dimitri the same way he does (jury's out as for why that's the case), her & Dimitri's recollections of events makes abundantly clear that, for most of Three Houses, Edelgard is 100% unaware that Dimitri and "Dee" (as in, the boy she befriended in the kingdom) are one and the same.

As always, many thanks to everyone who read this post! Looking back at it, I'm lowkey mad that I figured this out so damn late into the game's lifespan given all the evidence pointing it had been staring at my face all along.

But what do you all think about their whole dynamic? Does it make the whole tragedy of both sting deeper? Did it happen to confuse you even more somehow? Does it raise more questions than answers? Or does it feel needlessly complex?

#fe3h #crimson flower #azure moon #scarlet blaze #azure gleam #few3hopes #fewath #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem warriors: three hopes #edelgard von hresvelg #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #trivia #fire emblem

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miitarashi · 3 months

Text

Oh- OH?? IS IT A REQUEST ABOUT BUFF WOMANS??? my dear unknow,consider yourself kissed. (Yeah,i'm using a photo cuz i had to delete the first one because i made something wrong but luckily i didn't lost what i writed).

☆Tintin headcanon☆

- Buff woman 🙏🏽

Oh dear,this one is quite interesting not gonna lie.

First he would probably be surprised a bit,just a little.

He gave that quick up and down, took in the information and just kept his polite demeanor as always.

Traveling the world,he probably saw a buff woman or two but one close to him was something interesting in a way.

If you end up getting close to him,he would be more than happy to know you better.

If you talked about your workout routine and the amount of weight you lift,the boy would feel genuinely surprised,joking a bit that what he normally does in one adventure is almost a long workout since he's always running,jumping and or punching someone just to get his story.

And when he said it,now was your time to be surprised,even more because his body looked a bit ""petite"" for someone who does all of that (in a fucking daily basis)

One thing that I know probably happened is,when Tintin introduced you to Haddock,at some point,being an old marine like him, he probably wanted an arm wrestle just to see what would happen. You won,but it was a fair game lol.

Now,the dating part is kinda funny.

Do y'all know that couple dynamic “The amazon x the short guy”?

This. This is your dating life.

If you're taller,of course he wouldn't feel ashamed or anything like that,we all know this man,this perfect one that can do no wrong and does not have a fragile masculinity.

Just don't tease him about being short or trying to carry him like a bag of potatoes and we're good.

Only when not in public tho.

Like,having a buff woman is basically accepting the prince/princess treatment. Being held,hugged from behind and having someone to look up to for comfort??

A bit weird at first,but when he discovers the good things of having a buff girlfriend?

Sign he in.

Being used as a weight,like him laying on your back while you do push ups? A bit cynical at first,but when you easily do it,normally it becomes a thing. Like he is reading something while lying on your back or mumbling about this new mystery,it's kinda funny but he doesn't have a problem with it. (Again,as long it's made at home)

Would even go running with you as a way of spending time together, stopping at some park or little place to stay and just enjoy some quality time before going back home.

The cuddles? Being holded like a fragile thing always gives him the best naps he ever had in his life. Adore when you wrap yourself around him like a blanket.

I don't know why,but I feel like when you guys cuddle with you resting on top, hugging his waist and resting your head on his abdomen with a tank top or any clothes that shows your muscles,he would like,trace the definated line of it??

Like,I'm sure he would do it If you had body marks too.

Other girls hitting on him,he find amusing when you tower over him and kinda of send them off. (If you is far he would walk up and be by your side holding your hand)

He would even take you on adventures too,bonus if you learned some type of martial art. What is this? The perfect woman??

Although,if you're the tough exterior and fragile inside,the princess will be you. No questions asked.

He would find it lovely. The way you could be tough to be face to face with someone taller,but ask him to kill a roach out of fear clinging on his arm for protection.

The ✨cutiest✨

Insecure about wearing dresses? You're a queen in his eyes. Worshiped on the spot.

Need motivation? He's your number one fan,rooting for you and helping you out in any way.

Feeling insecure about him leaving you because of your looks? Didn't i said that this man sees you like a Goddess??

Let's not even get on the thighs part because damm he just want to be crushed-

Beside it! This man fell in love with every little inch of you and love being the prince or making you his Goddess, nothing less than this.

It's a Win-win for both of you basically.

——————————————————————

N/A: hey! I said i wasn't dead. So the thing is,i'll probably settle sunday or monday to post fics and request. Maybe one day a week and in between i post some incorrect quotes that pass cross my mind while i write the big fic that i'll post on my AO3. Like i said i already have some things writed so don't worry,i'm still here and writing requests too. (Making bots too cuz i just made a Tintin bot about that "i could be a better boyfriend than him" best decision i've ever made🙏🏽). So yeah,hope you liked! Thank you for reading😘

#the adventures of tintin #tintin #tintin movie #tintin x reader #captain haddock #archibald haddock #tintin 2011 #the adventures of tintin 2011 #tintin movie 2011

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