#but like. Just a little boot pattern on the wing. and then that is a whole separate family of guys. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

impala-dreamer · 7 months

Note

Tell me a story about reader trying to hide something from Spencer Reid (fluffish)

A Not-So-Secret Secret

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Fluff and Secrets and Pregnancy Revelations

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

It was like trying to play tag with God. You took a step, and he followed. You turned a corner, and he was there waiting. It was fucking impossible. He seemed to be everywhere at the same time; his light brown eyes forever following you around, detailing and documenting every odd move and every evasive answer. It almost made you feel sorry for the serial killers he interviewed and every suspect he’d been in contact with.

Almost.

While you were becoming increasingly infuriated with his passive observational skills, you were still determined to keep it all a secret. Soon, you would make your little announcement, apologize for being so moody the last few weeks, and give an excuse for all the seemingly random running out of rooms you’d been doing in the early mornings. Soon, you’d sit him down and spill the beans; pray that he’d be OK with it all. Soon. But trekking through the damp woods of Vermont while looking for an UnSub was neither the time nor the place.

Even though he was a few yards ahead, you could somehow still feel him watching you. It was as if he had eyes behind his head, or, at the very least, a bit of ESP that transcended the physical limitations of the human body and let him watch you no matter where he was. The internal workings of his mind were surely a sight to see. Maybe someday, you mused, you’d put him in an MRI machine and map his genius in real-time.

Fallen branches snapped under your boots and the fog chilled your bones. The FBI windbreaker you’d grabbed instead of your usual wool coat was not enough to stave off the dampness. Pausing for a moment, you cupped your hands and breathed into them, hoping to take the frozen sting off of your fingertips.

Spencer heard your footsteps stop and spun around instantly.

“Are you OK?” His voice was low but his concern carried easily through the trees.

A deep breath squared your shoulders and you prepared to resume your hike. “Absolutely,” you replied with a wink and a smile.

He knew you were lying. He always knew. What he didn’t know, you hoped, was why.

To your left, the heavy flapping of wings caught your ear, and you turned to see a large black bird taking flight. You followed it upwards, watching its impressive wingspan darken the sky as it ascended. As it faded into the gray sky, a line of smoke appeared about half a mile away. A chimney. The scent of burning logs floated by on a cold breeze and the smell turned your stomach. Quickly, you dropped your face into your hand, desperate to hide your gag.

Spencer was a foot away when you straightened back up. His eyes were narrowed, his lips drawn into a tight pink line. He let his hand hover over your shoulder, unsure if you’d allow it to land.

“Y/N-”

Clearing your throat, you brushed him off with a reassuring but fake smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Damnit. “Spencer, if I say I’m fine, I’m fine.” You crossed your arms and tried to stand your ground but another wave of nausea struck you. The wretch clicked in the back of your throat and you swallowed it down, hard. “Let’s go,” you insisted. “I’m freezing.”

He sighed. “I told you to wear a sweater.” His hand fell lovingly on your shoulder. “You know, the weather in this area this time of year can-”

You cut him off harshly. “I do not need a lesson on the weather patterns of New England, Spencer!”

He flinched at your tone and slowly curled his fingers as he lifted his hand away. He frowned and nodded thoughtfully. “Sorry.”

Your heart sank and you cursed every wayward hormone and chemical in your body. “No.” You shook your head and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” Moody and terrified. Starving yet nauseated; freezing yet sweating… “I’m cold and I wanna get back to the hotel. This is getting us nowhere.” Did I mention I’m gonna throw up if I have to keep smelling that fire? “Let’s just hurry up and do what we came to do so I can go home. OK?” Also, my feet hurt and I’m a little dizzy.

He studied your face for a long moment and then nodded. “Let’s just go. We’re only a mile from the car and I doubt we’ll get much further before you pass out.”

His words flowed in one ear and out the other before spinning around and slapping you in the face. You jolted.

“Uh, what?”

“You’re shaking and you’ve gone a little pale.” His hand returned to your shoulder. The weight was reassuring but his words had you on edge.

Do you know? You stared up at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I said I’m fine.”

His other hand pressed gently against your cheek and you melted into the comforting warmth. “You should probably eat something too. I have saltines and water in the car. It’ll settle your stomach.”

Son of a bitch. “Not hungry,” you fibbed, “but thanks.”

A gurgle from your stomach told otherwise and you gave up. Tiny tears welled in your eyes and you sank into yourself a bit. Busted. Found out. Betrayed by your own gut.

Spencer smiled sweetly. “You know I know, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I do now.”

He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. Wrapping your arms around him, you settled your head over his heart.

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked.

“I don’t know, when my water broke?”

He laughed. It vibrated through him. “Why were you afraid to tell me?”

With a sigh, you pushed away to look up at him. He was handsome and messy and you wanted to punch him in his stupid perfect face for being so smart. “I wasn’t afraid, I just… wanted to… I don’t know, I mean, we never talked about kids or anything but-”

He stopped your ramble with a kiss and held your face gently in his hands. “It’s a good surprise,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out, OK?”

His smile was honest and you relaxed. “OK.”

“Good.”

“But seriously, I need to eat something or I’m going to puke all over you.”

The walk back to the car was somehow easier. Perhaps it was the relief of not having to hide anymore, or maybe the prospect of crackers ahead. Either way, it felt as if you were floating over the dead leaves.

“I did hide it pretty well though, didn’t I?”

He laughed under his breath at your query. “Yeah. Pretty good.”

Who’s lying now?

“When did you figure it out?”

Spencer pushed his glasses up a bit and looked off towards the big black SUV waiting at the edge of the forest.

“Few weeks ago,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “You left the pregnancy test on the sink.”

Son of a bitch…

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #fluff #drabble #tell me about

235 notes · View notes

creepa-b0t-inc · 1 year

Text

EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS

i am poor and jobless so sknfkalhflshnklf ALSO I JUST UPDATED THE PRICES

[image id: An image of @creepa-b0t-inc on tumblr's emergency commission sheet. All text is in the deltarune/undertale font. Each section end is marked with a white line connecting the white border that outlines the entire image. The background is transparent.

The first section reads "HI! I have built up the courage to open emergency COMMISIONS!!! I mainly work in Deltarune/Undertale style art. HERE ARE MY PRICES!!!! [It would be greatly preferred if you could provide any ideas or concepts for designs, because I am sadly not that good at design. I will try my best though!]" with a note off to the right side reading "!!! I SOMETIMES TAKE A LONG WHILE!!" and "!!BE PREPARED TO WAIT!!". All text is white, except for the 'HI!' which is yellow, and 'emergency' and the side note, which are in red.

The second section lists off examples and prices for commissions. The top left has white text stating "OVERWORLD SPRITES (next line) $20-$80 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 5 examples:

An image of Jockington from Deltarune from four different angles, front, left side, right side, and behind view.

An image of Starlight Glimmer from My Little Pony standing on her hind legs and curled around herself like a worm, covering her mouth with her hoof and smiling, looking at the viewer mockingly.

An image of a cockroach sitting on a bench reading a newspaper. it has a brown fedora and looks unimpressed.

An image of BIGSHOT.ex from Puredawns, with his left hand on his hip, smiling. He is wearing pink and black boots, black pants, and a pink suit top with a yellow tie. He has a purple and black cape and there are yellow rings around his wrists and knees.

A collection of 16 walking sprites of Noelle from Puredawns. She is wearing a long white hooded coat with icy blue accent marks, icy blue wings, and the hood down. Her color palette is much colder than usual.

The top right has white text stating "UNDERTALE STYLE BATTLE SPRITES (next line) $40-$100 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 4 examples:

An image of Exposition Guy made by Kevin Temmer Tunes holding a spoon in black and white.

An image of Spider Guy by Jaiden Animations in black in white, except for the pupil of its eyes which are red.

An image of Jaiden Animations in black and white. She is wearing a white hoodie with black accent marks and black sleeves.

A black and white image of an aimkid style dog character wearing socks, gloves, and armor with its left hand on its hip and its right hand holding a giant meat cleaver with a bumpy end, like a comb.

The bottom left has white text saying "DELTARUNE STYLE BATTLE SPRITES (next line) $40-$100 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 4 examples:

An image of Pibby from Learning with Pibby, a small light blue character with pink/light purple hair buns.

An image of a large sky-blue computer with a control panel and 2 rocket engines propelling itself into the air, along with two colder-blue speakers on the computer's left and right sides, also being propelled by their own respective rocket engines. The circle part of the speakers are alternative white and black circles and the computer screen is black except for a green outline of Queen from Deltarune.

An image of an angry looking robot character. it is a dull blue with light yellow accent marks and purple wires sticking out of its back. it's face is a pixelated red screen. It has thick, blue vent-hose like legs with 2 large blue, metal feet. They are accented with a caution pattern in light yellow.

A collection of 5 sprites of Night in the Woods characters-from left to right: Mae, Gregg, Bea, Angus, and Germ-all looking angry except for Germ and Mae. Mae is holding a baseball bat with two hands behind herself, Gregg is holding a crossbow with his right hand, Bea is smoking and holding a pickaxe with both hands, Angus has his hands on his hips, and Germ has his hands in his pockets with a possum on his head.

The bottom right has white text saying "DIALOGUE EXPRESSIONS (next line) $20-$60 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]". Below and to the side of this there are 4 examples:

A colored image of Flowey from Undertale's head.

A collection of 6 images of Rouxls Kaard from Deltarune's face, each expressing a different emotion. From left to right, the expressions go: smiling with teeth, open mouth smiling, open mouth smiling with wide eyes, smiling with teeth and wide eyes, smiling with teeth and winking, and smiling with teeth and both eyes closed.

A collection of 7 images of an ice cap (with sunglasses) from Undertale's face, each expressing a different emotion. From left to right, the expressions go: neutral with tired eyes, neutral with wide eyes, surprised, angry, maniacal laughing, evilly grinning, and nervous/looking off to the side, sweating.

A collection of 3 images, each containing a different expression portrayed by op's oc. the oc is a reddish-pink flower with a green stem and its petals behind its face with a loose strand, as if it is hair. The expressions portrayed, from left to right, go: smiling, smugly grinning, and angrily yelling.

The third sections begins with white text saying "DELTARUNE BATTLE MOCKUP (next line) $200 (next line) [This could take me a while to finish, so I'll only take on ONE of these at a time.]" Below this is two example images:

An image of a Deltarune-style battle scene with Night in the Woods characters. There is a red bar on the left side of the screen that has white text next to it vertically reading "TP 0%" and a menu with a text box on the bottom containing Mae and Gregg, Mae with 150/150 HP and Gregg with 170/170.Mae's icon is in light blue and Gregg's is in orange. It appears as if the user is selecting what to do with Mae's turn, hovering over the fight button. In the text box below, there is white text that reads "* The cultists strike back!". The fight setting is in a grassy area in front of a red, sunken furnace with bricks surrounding it. On the left towards the top, Mae is holding a baseball bat behind herself with both hands, and below her Gregg is holding a crossbow with his right hand, his left hand in front of him, looking angry. On the right, there are two identical looking cuktists in brown, hooded robes and boots holding shotguns.

An image of a Deltarune-style battle scene with Night in the Woods characters. There is a red bar on the left side of the screen that has white text next to it vertically reading "TP 0%" and a menu with a text box on the bottom containing Mae with 150/150 HP. It appears as if the user is selecting what to do with Mae's turn, hovering over the fight button. Mae's icon is light blue. In the text box below, there is text that reads "* CASEY awaits your first move." The text is shakey, and all white except for 'CASEY', which is blue with glitching text behind it. The fight setting is in a starry sky area, with the head of the Sky Cat watching Mae. On the left is Mae in a blue color pallette entirely except for her pupils, which are red. She is holding a baseball bat behind her with two hands. On the right is Casey, a shadowy cat figure whearing a long coat. He has glowing white eyes and facial features with a glowing blue outline.

The fourth section begins with red text that states "THINGS I WILL NOT DRAW:" with a lower opacity, larger 'NOT' behind the main text to create an echoey effect. Below this is a bulleted list in white text containing "NSFW, RACIST/BIGOTED THINGS, NFTS, (and) ANYTHING I DON'T WANT TO". Beneath this is a bit of text that says "SO, feel free to message me on either Tumblr or my Discord, @creepabotinc." with '@creepabotinc' in yellow text. /end id.]

#creepa art #commissions open #emergency commissions

542 notes · View notes

ponder-the-orb · 23 days

Text

Choose me

Pairing: Fem Tav/Gale, (Named draconic sorcerer tav)

Tags: 18+, smut and angst, post/during Act 2 romance scene, non-astral scene

Word count: 4.5K

Trigger warning: brief mention of cutting (as it's used in the Gauntlet of Shar)

Read on AO3 or below

♥・。.。*♥*。.。·*♥*·。.。*♥*·。.。*♥*。.。·*♥

‘Even if we were to find another way, perhaps this is the right way. The end that fate wishes for me.’

Gale’s words curdle inside Ciri. She tries to forget them, focussing instead on the sea of light drifting above her. She’d thought the Shadow Curse impenetrable, every glint of her fire eaten by the darkness if it strayed too far from her palm, but tonight she stands unharmed within it, the evil veiled behind a painting of colours and stars– a magic just for her. For them.

‘I wanted to spend it under a canopy of beauty and wonder. And with company to match.’

Her lip bleeds as she bites it. They were such soft words, sweet words, drenched in ardour like he could dull the razor’s edge of his decision if his tone was gentle enough. Perhaps what stings that most is that it worked. Her protest had been lost to the kiss that followed, then again when he’d sunk to his knees in front of her and slowly worked his hands under the edge of her robe.

She shivers slightly as he cups her bare calf and pulls it free. His fingers quickly unlace one boot, then the other, trails of warmth flushing under her skin as they map a path back up her legs. Dozens of times she’d found herself studying those hands of late. She’d watch him stand his ground in battle, trying not to wonder if the way he moulded the weave between his fingers was how he’d touch a lover. And sometimes, when the shadows grew long and the evenings cold in her tent, she would wonder again and again atop her bedroll until she was coming fast, her wet gasp caught in the palm pressed over her lips.

A hand slides under the bend of her knee and urges it forward. He pauses there, his thumb tracing a soft pattern over the skin before his lips follow. Her breath wavers like a hummingbird's wing as he shifts higher, pressing a firmer kiss to the plush of her inner thigh.

Her hands find his head.

There’s nothing rueful about the way his eyes catch hers, no hint of the death warrant all but signed by his goddess as he nips the skin, then rubs there with his cheek until it blooms a rosier pink. She wants nothing more than to lose herself in that look, in the blush dusting his nose and the heat smouldering like burnt almonds in his eyes. She tugs his hair, bathes in the answering gasp but can’t loosen her grip on his words.

He’s choosing to die. He loves her and he’s choosing to die. She can fight until she’s bloody and burned, until the fire within her has all but withered into ash– and he’s still choosing to die.

He squeezes her hips and gently pushes her onto the summoned bed behind them. It’s comfier than anything she can recall sleeping on, the ache that flared in her limbs each morning finally quieting a little. Her immediate question about why they’ve been suffering in the dirt this whole time quickly vanishes as he makes his way on top of her.

She leans up to meet him, sighing against his lips as one leg slides between hers.

Gone is the tease of his earlier kisses. He’s insistent now, pressing his desire into her lips, then her neck, mouthing and tasting until she can feel the cherry-bruises forming there. She knows that fervour, equal parts desperation and desire, how he’s losing that meticulously manicured composure and trying to commit everything to memory before he makes his choice.

‘This might be my last night alive.’

Her fingers dig into his back. No. She won’t let him, she can’t.

She grabs his chin and pulls them apart. She’s wild and bright in his eyes, every want, every piece of her need for him reflected back. She cups his cheek, stroking the handsome curve of his face as she tries to find her scattered words. “I want you, I want this, all of it, more than anything.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss her neck until the second half of her thought almost flies away.

“Of all the verses I’ve had the pleasure of perusing in my time, none have sounded quite so sweet as that.”

Ciri’s eyes flutter as the knee between her legs spreads her wide.

“Gale. Wait.” She guides his head up. “I want you, but you need to do something for me first.”

“Anything.”

Ciri takes a breath. “Choose to live."

Gale’s smile falters, the embers of his gaze cooling.

She grips his chin as he starts to look away. “And don’t you dare tell me that it isn’t a choice, because it is. I know it is. Dress it up as fate, as your own terms, whatever it is that you’re going to tell yourself because you think it will bring you peace– it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to resign yourself to this. Not now. Not with me.”

The words ache in her throat. She watches the play of emotions run over his face before he twists to kiss the palm of her hand.

“What I would give for such an adventurer's determination,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “There is no peace in this, I can assure you. If I were still sequestered in my tower, perhaps it would be easier– being offered a way out that guaranteed my mistake could do something truly good? It’s too much to wish for. But now, I almost want to damn this group for giving me so much to care about. For making me doubt. Making me hope.”

She brushes her hand through his hair. “Then let yourself hope.”

“You truly think I wouldn’t choose another way if I could? If there were any other path that means I would not hurt anyone else?” His lips touch her palm again. “Hurt you?”

“You leave finding another way to me. Just tell me that you’re choosing to live. Not that you want to. Not that you wish you could, that you will. Say that, and I’ll be yours.”

It’s a plea masquerading as a promise, firebolts thrown blindly in the dark like the offer of her body is enough to shake his devotion.

He drops his head to her shoulder, quiet for a while. “Once I would have said that was quite impossible. Months studying this blasted thing in my chest and no answer was kind enough to present itself.” When he lifts his head, the tiniest smile flickers across his mouth. It sears straight through her. “But have I not seen this ragtag party of ours pull off at least half a dozen impossible stunts already?”

She tugs him closer. “Say it then. Please.”

“Alright. If there is a way, if you do pull some kind of miracle out of your pocket, of course I will take it.”

The words are barely free of his mouth before she’s reclaimed his lips. She swallows his laugh, ecstasy singing through her veins as her answer is swept up into their kisses.

“Then I’m yours, all of me.”

Choose me. That’s what she doesn’t say. Choose me over your Goddess. Choose me over the entity that made me turn down your illusion because I want to make love to you as far away from her bloody hands as possible. Choose me.

But for now, she can pretend that’s what he’s promised.

There’s something almost reverent about the way he strips her bare. Impatience shines in his eyes but he makes no move to hurry this time. His tongue follows the seams between blush and burns, lingering over her breasts until her back arches into the warmth. She lets herself fall, melting into his caresses until all she can do is wonder if this is what it feels like to be loved as a God.

It’s a new kind of want for Ciri. Something deeper, redder, almost ugly. She wants to break him down, fuck him, love him until she’s unwound every last thought of following Mystra’s command. She bites his neck and digs her fingernails in until she’s sure the meaning behind those crescent marks will linger.

Mine.

She cradles the back of his head, her breathing pitching to a sharper gasp as his lips touch her ear. She feels him smirk.

“I had wondered if there was truth to the rumour about how sensitive elven ears are.”

She shudders as he kisses harder. “I think… you have your answer.”

He strokes the point with his thumb and she mimics the movement, grinding her swollen clit against his knee until the skin shines with her impatient desire. He presses it forward, sipping her answering moan before sliding his mouth down her body.

“Not quite yet.”

She finds her pleasure twice, once as his tongue circles her clit, then in his lap as he thrusts inside her. She feels his uneven breathing on her cheek, his nose mashed slightly awkwardly there as he chases his own pleasure. She holds him as he does, making a memory of the smell of sweat and dirt and the melody of his cry as he finishes inside her. Messy. Mortal. Perfect.

Choose me. The thought stays as they lay tangled together, his hand slowly mapping the length of her spine. He suddenly pokes the crease between her eyebrows, chuckling at her answering pout

“Whatever thought you’re pondering there is obviously wriggling around more than any parasite. Care to offload it?”

Her mouth hangs open. The words dance on the tip of her tongue, bright as canaries desperate to be free.

Choose me.

She rolls over and presses a soft kiss to the orb in his chest.

“Just that… I love you too.”

***

If misery were a place, Ciri is sure it would be the Gauntlet of Shar. It’s not merely the visage of the dark goddess poised with her blade around every corner, nor the old carrion stench of bones littering its corridors. The air here is wrong, even more so than in the cursed land outside. She feels it black and heavy in her lungs, sees it cling to the shadows appearing under everyone else’s eyes. Even Shadowheart’s fevered devotion has faded to near-silent prayer.

Ciri had heard her once through the dark, thanking Shar over and over for the opportunity to realise her dream of being a true Dark Justiciar. Watching Shadowheart rub the fresh cuts on her arms after each trial, it’s getting harder to hold her tongue about whether this is truly a dream or some twisted nightmare.

It’s a different kind of darkness that weighs on Gale. Ciri had seen Mystra’s command swimming in his eyes when they’d found Ketheric’s army, then again between frantic kisses when she’d tried to make him forget. She’d dreamt of after. Her trance had slipped into visions of the orb bursting free, his face twisting in pain and then eclipsed in cold netherse magic. She’d jerked awake in a sheen of tears and sweat and buried herself into his side, murmuring over and over again until her voice was hoarse.

“Please don’t do it. Please.”

The feelings are a gift and a curse, ones she once thought too broken to actually have. Lovers were a tool, something fun on the road or after a few glasses at an inn. She’d take what she needed and then be off: new city, new adventure, that name and face already forgotten. It’s not this, something flushed so deep inside her that it aches with each heartbeat.

She loves him. Loves him in a painful, stupid, storybook kind of way that makes her want to burst into song and to break things.

Tendays she’s known him. It’s barely a few grains in the hourglass that could be her life. So why can she feel each one burning so brightly? Eclipsing everything else until the fifty years that came before seem so grey in comparison? It’s a question she doesn’t want the answer to. All she knows is that he has her heart cupped in his hands and she is not ready to let it shatter between them.

The night after the final trial she seeks him out by the campfire. The space is quiet, just him staring into the light and periodically waving in extra kindling. She bumps his shoulder as she sits down.

“You’re quiet tonight. Either something is very wrong or you’ve finally exhausted the list of anecdotes to tell me.”

He offers her a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Neither. I’ve just found that silence seems to hang heavier here, like weight in the air. I’m sure you’ve noticed even the weave seems distant.” He snaps his fingers but the sparks that fly are a dull shower. He shakes his head. “I’ll be more than happy once we’re away from Shar’s influence. One step closer to stopping Ketheric, hopefully stopping everything.”

There’s a thread of resignation woven into his calm. She feels it wrap around her throat.

“Tell me about home,” she says quickly. “About Waterdeep.”

His eyes grow glossier by firelight. “Did my illusion not do it justice?”

“That’s just one room in your tower. Tell me more. Tell me everything.”

He throws the remainder of the wood on the fire, a more genuine smile growing in the brightness. “Well, only if you’re prepared to sit here all night. There is quite a lot to cover.”

She shifts closer, resting her chin in her upturned hands. “I am.”

And so he talks. Talks and talks and talks until she doesn’t understand how his throat isn’t cracked as sandstone. She’d been on the receiving end of at least a dozen of his orations before, but this is altogether different. His words are fireflies in the darkness, flecks of paint rendering Waterdeep in fantastic colour around them. She sees the arcanists’ towers shining in vivid cuts of crystal by the harbour, the puddles of spilled ale as people gather to stare down into the abyss within The Yawning Portal, the gravestones falling over each other like shifting teeth in the City of the Dead– everything.

His face grows more animated as he moves through each area, arms gesticulating wildly like he’s conjuring the city itself over the shadows in front of them. She’s enraptured, clinging to each word, then to his hands as she shifts closer.

“... and then after Auril's Blesstide, there’s the Solstice. It’s not exactly a Waterdhavian exclusive holiday but I’m not sure I’ve seen any other city produce such an exorbitant amount of decorations for the season. Once upon a time I adorned my own tower as well and it always caused quite the stir. I somewhat regret not putting in the effort last year but, as you can imagine, having a city-levelling orb in my chest did not exactly put me in the most festive mood. Tara was ever insistent though, nagging me to visit people given the nature of the holiday. ” He turns and softly brushes her chin “- spending time with those you care about.”

The screech of a whetstone suddenly cuts him off. They turn to see Lae’zel outside her tent and holding her greatsword above the spinning rock. She glowers at them both.

“If you two insist on continuing this mind-numbing foreplay rather than keeping watch, I suggest you do it somewhere else. Sharpening my blade can only drown out so much. This wretched place echoes.”

Ciri stifles her giggle and quickly pulls Gale into his own tent. She sits down amongst the growing collection of pillows and starts to unlace the back of her shirt. He sits behind and takes over like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Come to think of it, you’ve never really spoken about your home,” he says.

She shrugs. “That’s the life of an adventurer. No home to speak of really, just whatever inn or camp I’ve found for the week.”

He tugs the final fastening and her shirt falls down to her waist. “You’ve never thought about settling down anywhere? None Faerǔn’s great cities ever tempted you?”

She sighs as his fingers trace down her bare spine. “And give up adventuring? Never.”

“You can do both, you know. Head out each morning to slay or burn or pilfer– whatever it is you feel most inclined to do that day, then return to the same bed. You’d probably save some of that hard-earned if not slightly bloody gold if you didn’t have to pay for a new room every tenday.”

She considers his words. In her decades travelling she’d seen almost all of the major cities on the Sword Coast: Fandelin, Neverwinter, Everlund. None of them ever made her want to stop moving forward. Once the coin was in her purse and the job torn from the notice board, all she could think about was heading out and filling in the blank edges of her map.

“I don’t really know what home is supposed to feel like but… I know it’s none of the places I’ve travelled to before,” she admits.

“Home.” He draws out the word in a slow hum. “It does not have to be a place– not a house or a tower, or a city. It can be a feeling.” His hands spread over her chest. “Or perhaps a person.” His lips touch the back of her neck. “Perhaps a person with an excellently stocked wine cellar.” He kisses up to that spot on her ear he’s grown annoyingly fond of. “Not to mention ocean-views, a crackling hearth and a very carefully selected mattress.”

She leans back as he starts to circle her nipple. “That does sound nice.”

She yelps when he pinches her. “I was aiming for exquisite, but I suppose nice will do for now.”

She spins in his arms and presses him down into the blankets below. His hair falls in a dark mess as she settles over his thighs. “Asking me to visit? You must be feeling better if you’re already thinking about the future.”

He leans up to trace the corner of her mouth. “Dreaming about the future would be a better description.”

Their eyes linger on the orb as she unwraps his shirt. She presses her hand over it and feels the gentle thrum of the magic— the noose around his neck she won’t let him tie.

She tilts his face up. “Leave it to me, remember?”

He rests his hand over hers. “I do. Though I am still holding out hope that your plan has evolved beyond throw a fireball at the problem.”

“Name one time that hasn’t worked.”

There’s ice under the joke. She’s a fraud and a fake, no plan beyond the claws of her anger and a hope that grows shakier with each passing day. She knows he can feel it as he kisses her. It’s still desperate, his mouth clinging to hers like she could disappear at any moment.

So she lets him explore, revelling in the growing familiarity of his mouth on her body and his hands in her hair. His breaths become poetry against her skin, whispering that her lips are like the reddest wine and the gold in her eyes a sunrise. She tries not to think if he wove such sweet musings for his goddess too, or what she might have done for him in return. Ciri certainly cannot picture her as a giver. All she’s heard of Mystra is what she demanded. How loving could those lips have ever been if they were capable of commanding death with little more feeling than a debtor collecting their dues.

She flips them over, dragging her own mouth down his body until it’s firmly wrapped around his growing hardness. The curse that drops from his lips burns with pride into her mind. She moves faster, urges him to take what he needs because she can– because she wants to.

Choose me.

She won’t say it out loud, but with her touch, her tongue until he’s red-cheeked and gasping. She thinks it again as she holds him, naked and slick, wiping those messy strands of chestnut and silver away from his forehead.

He knows. He has to.

Choose me.

***

Ciri rubs her eyes but the sight above her doesn’t change. Hanging in the wet, sinewy air of this cavern is their true enemy, the Heart of the Absolute: an Elderbrain. The vastness of the space barely contains its massive size, easily the width of Moonrise itself, perhaps larger, she can’t be sure. It pulses and twitches above the raised platform, a mess of feelers moving jerkily as the figures below seem to guide it with three curiously glowing stones.

Ciri’s hands slip over her staff as she retreats back into the shadows. Her shock is laced with ire– mostly at herself. It was obvious. What else would be leading the illithids other than the eldritch horror that commanded them? And now the four of them have to fight it.

She takes a breath and tries to afford herself a better view. It doesn’t help– looking closer at its glistening surface, she’s suddenly not sure if she’ll even be able to burn it.

She seeks out Gale’s hand behind her but meets only air. Turning, she sees his gaze is fixed to the pointy black crown fused to the top of the brain. There’s no terror in his expression. The quick intake of breath and the sparkle in his eyes speak of something altogether different– wonderment. It makes Ciri’s skin crawl.

“Look at that crown. It radiates with power unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs to himself. “To have it, to hold. If only I could.”

There’s that wizard energy she remembers, like a magpie circling some shiny trinket. She fights the urge to slap him with the end of her staff.

He suddenly shakes his head, eyes refocusing. “No, I can’t. This is it. I must do as Mystra commands.”

His words are a slap to her face. They’re firm as an oath, like his promise to her meant nothing.

She whips around completely. “You can’t.”

“Look at that monstrosity, Ciri. More than just a Goddess counts on my courage, whole worlds hang in the balance. What more can I do? Can any of us do?”

Biting anger roots her to the spot. She hates that he won’t believe in her, hates the sound of her name in his mouth, hates that he’s right. She still has no plan, nothing that could possibly make a dent in that being. Their world does hang in the balance… and she doesn’t care. Not one bit. She’ll let it all turn to ruin with a smile on her face if it means she can keep him safe.

There’s only one thing she has left, a final phrase left unsaid. She puts both hands on his chest until she can feel the wild pulse of netherse magic.

“Choose me, Gale. The one who loves you, the one who needs you to live. Choose me.”

His reaction is instant. There’s no hesitation in his eyes as he pulls her closer, nor in the smile that breaks over his face as he speaks. “I love you too. Much more than myself, more even than Mystra. Very well, whether I condemn this world or not, I choose you.”

Her heart cartwheels in her chest as his words sink in. All her thoughts vanish under the weight of love in his eyes except for one.

There is no way in all nine hells that she is dying today.

“Ahem.” She follows the cough to meet Shadowheart’s pointed gaze. “While I appreciate that we are not suddenly dying in a fiery explosion, do you think you could share your plan B?”

Ciri turns back. Relief washes through her as the brain floats away, leaving just Ketheric seething on the platform below. She grips her staff again, adrenaline pumping like firewine through her veins. “Same as always. Sweat, swords and sorcery.”

***

It’s almost strange to see the Shadow Curse start to break away. Ciri stands on the very edge of their camp, watching as pieces of the bile-black sky melt into the first sunrise she’s seen in almost a month. The trees shiver and stretch towards the light, soft pink shadows caressing the broken streets and the long, now silent, reaches of Moonrise towers. The land is still ripped open like an old wound, but now it has the chance to finally heal. That’s what Halsin had told her at least.

She couldn’t have fought her answering smile even if she wanted to. For once they were leaving somewhere better than they found it and they finally have a clear path to Baldur’s Gate.

She feels the lightness in everyone as she strolls back through camp.

Well, almost everyone.

She quietly ducks around a corner and into Gale’s tent. He’s lying on their bedroll and staring at the ceiling with a hard blank expression. It’s the same place she’d left him four hours ago when he said he’d wanted to be alone. This time, he doesn’t protest as she sits next to him, nor when she gently unhooks the staff that’s still clamped between tense, white fingers.

She kisses each one as his eyes finally drift down to hers.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

“I was ready end it all, my life, yours, everyone’s. In that moment… they were nothing. Only her command mattered.” His whisper catches on the final words, like a splinter of glass stuck in his throat.

She rubs the back of his hand. “But you didn’t.”

He exhales but his face doesn’t relax. “I had never felt so certain. And yet...”

He trails off. She can feel that there's more, like the reality of Mystra’s demand and Ciri’s confession still press with the weight of the Elderbrain on his chest.

She lies down next to Gale and waits for him to look at her again. “You chose life. You chose me.”

His expression finally cracks. Slowly, the hint of another smile quirks there, enough for that final whisper of doubt in her mind to flutter away. “I did.”

“And do you regret it?”

He rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around her waist. Tugging her on top of him she feels the rapid beat of his heart thrumming through his robe– her reminder that he’s here. Alive. Always.

“Not for one moment,” he murmurs into her cheek. “I choose you. I’ll always choose you.”

It’s the full stop to a sentence Ciri had written weeks ago, something now inked indelibly over her own heart. She doesn’t care how little time they’ve spent together. From now until the long years of her life finally end, she is never letting him go.

♥・。.。*♥*。.。·*♥*·。.。*♥*·。.。*♥*。.。·*♥

Yes I have now written this exact romance scene 3 times. Yes I will probably do it 3 more times because it just DOES things to me.

This is a drabble from my ongoing fic Broken Horizons that you can read here.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #gale x oc #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale fic #my writing

79 notes · View notes

babygorewhore · 9 months

Text

Reunion

After moving back for college in Hawkins, you decide to reach out to your childhood friend and long time crush, Eddie Munson. And after a surprising reunion, he takes a step he’s always wanted to.

Warnings!! Smut! Riding! Unprotected sex! Porn with little plot! Eddie is a simp. This is extremely short but it’s okay.

Female in photo is just for aesthetic! Also thank you to @reidsbtch for reassuring this isn’t garbage lol. Not proof read since I wrote it in a day okay bye.

Moodboard

Moving back to Hawkins for college was the last thing your parents wanted but since you were way past high school, they could only accept it. But it wasn’t the only reason you moved back into a small apartment.

Eddie Munson. You were desperate to see him again after so many years.

You both met at music lessons during childhood. He didn’t have his long curls that you saw when you found him on instagram several months ago. He was so cute. He posted pictures of his band, Corroded Coffin, his guitar and his young friend who he took under his wing. Dustin. When he wasn’t performing he was an enthusiastic bartender that he often encouraged people to go too.

And he was also a pothead. Which ensured your plan on how to meet him again.

You underwent your own transformation. You always had been an alternative but you became a fully gothic dressing woman a few years ago. He wouldn’t recognize you now unless he looked closely.

You reached out to him via Instagram story for a meeting for weed sale and he was quick to respond. He didn’t like any of your pictures but he didn’t follow you. Eddie still had his dramatic speech pattern as he responded to you and gave you a place for the sale. A place in the woods.

Your boots were crunching on branches and grass as you made your way to the table he described in the message. Sitting down, you picked at the peeling nail polish on your fingers as you waited.

“Sorry about that,” His voice caught you by surprise as you turned. “My band practice was running behind and I swear I had a million missed calls from Dustin who needs me for girl advice which obviously I don’t have success with but hey who’s gonna teach him. And then my van didn’t want to start.”

He slid on the bench across from you with a small box. “Oh I’m rambling, but anyway, hi, it’s nice to see you,”

You were trying not to grin the entire time he spoke. He still had the same over-explanation and frantic gestures as he shuffled. Eddie’s black Iron Maiden shirt and black jeans fit him well. Exposing his tattoos and his guitar pick necklace.

He finally looked at you with soft brown eyes. But no recognition seemed to pass. He extended his hand to shake yours. “You’re- please tell me I didn’t forget your name?”

You told him, waiting for him to get the hint as you released him. His head quirked to the side. His lips pulled between his teeth as he studied you. “Sorry, you just-you remind me of someone I knew years ago. But-“

“Eddie. It’s me. Remember? Remember how we were friends as kids? we played music together at the store. Piano and you learned guitar. You hated sitting still and your hair was buzzed-“

“OH MY GOD!” He almost fell off the bench. “It’s you! Oh shit!”

You were laughing now, a full belly laugh as you saw him move off his seat and he barreled towards you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and head. Your nose was pressed against his chest; smelling his scent that was warm and comforting. “It’s so good to see you too.”

Your own hands were around his waist since you were still sitting but Eddie pulled back. And then he bent down, cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped, your eyes wide open at the pressure of his mouth. His lips were soft and then you relax your shoulders. But a second later he pulled back and stood away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that was-it’s just I haven’t seen you in so long.” He was breathing audibly and your cheeks burned.

“It’s-it’s okay Eddie. I really sat this whole thing up so I could surprise you.” You paused. “And oh no you’ve got lipstick on you.”

You went to wipe it off and he froze as your thumb swiped across his lip.

“Oh I don’t mind. I’ve been wanting to try out that color.” He looked so proud of himself for the joke. But he leaned in close again, “is that…okay? If I kiss you again? I just want to show you how much I missed you,” He flashed his eyebrows and you giggled.

Kissing led to you both stumbling to his van, he barely shut the door when you both fell on the backseat. Eddie’s lips traveled all over your neck, collar bones and finally settled to suck the place underneath your jaw. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” He muttered lowly as you arched into him.

Your hands tore at his jacket, years of pent up energy and desire for him coming through. Eddie paused, hovering over your mouth. “Is this okay?”

“Shut up, Eddie,” You flipped him over, pulling off your shirt, your tits bounced and his eyes darkened as he rolled his hips underneath you. His jeans were tight against his hardening cock.

His hands flew to massage your chest, you started unbuckling his pants and yanked them down his legs. His cock slapped against his stomach and his eyes widened as you wasted no time sinking down.

“Fuck,” He moaned. “God I’ve wanted this so long and it’s-“ He rolled his head back as you took control, bouncing harder as he filled you up, your wet pussy greedily taking him.

Eddie’s hips roughly thrusted into you as your hands landed on his shoulders as you steadied yourself. “Fuck, Eddie, I-“

Your core was growing wetter as your peak was approaching. His hand drifted to your neck, squeezing lightly. “Come on, give me your cum, baby. Give me what I’ve always wanted.”

Your stomach released as you came around him, your movements getting sloppy as you shuddered around his dick.

“Fucking hell,” Eddie spilled inside you. “Baby, you’re so fucking hot.”

His words made you chase your orgasm and then you slowly climbed off. Kneeling on the floor. Eddie caught his breath before turning towards you and cupping your cheek. “That’s one hell of a reunion, sweetheart.”

You grinned. “Glad to see you wanted it just as much as I did.”

Eddie sat up. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself? You’re my dream girl. I can’t believe you even let me kiss you.”

You blushed even more despite the fact that you just finished fucking him a minute ago. The creamy fluids in between your thighs sticking together as you were kneeling.

Eddie smirked and shifted on the seat. “I want you to sit up here, baby girl. I want to taste how well we mix together.”

Tagging @xxhellfirebunnyxx @slvt4jamesmarch @imyourdaninow @chrrymunson @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @take-everything-you-can @lesservillain

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson one shot #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #eddie munson stranger things #Eddie smut

372 notes · View notes

bg-brainrot · 10 months

Text

Second winter fluff prompt for the BG3 Holiday Challenge!

Prompt: Ice and Snow

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Love at First Knife, on AO3 here

Premise: Astarion is always cold, used to a nocturnal lifestyle and a distinct lack of blood in his veins. However you, the sad little mortal, are not prepared for the winter’s chill. When you experience your first snowfall together, Astarion makes it his personal mission to ensure that you’re bundled up.

Tags: Fluff, POV Second person, Gender-neutral pronouns, Post-Canon

Word count: ~1.1k

“Astarion, please,” you say, voice muffled behind a thick, knitted scarf. “You’re completely overreacting.”

The vampire tuts at you, as he deposits a fur-lined hat upon your head, and a few dangling tassels tickle your ears. “Now darling, what did I tell you about fighting me on this?”

“That you would tie me up and–”

“No, the other thing,” he interrupts, though a salacious smile comes over him at the thought.

“Oh. That you wouldn’t let me make a snow celestial…” you sound dejected, and you downcast your eyes to appear pitiable.

Astarion, for his part, only finds joy in your reaction, a delighted giggle being his only response.

“What about you?” you challenge, as he tries to shimmy another coat onto your already quite padded frame. "You were just complaining about the cold the other day!"

“I’m coldblooded, my dear. And you know I only complain for the attention,” he says, kneeling down to lace your boots for you. If you tried to bend down right now, you’re certain you’ll fall over in a pile of furs and fluff. “I shall be just fine with my current coat.” He’s currently wearing a fitted red winter coat, an embroidered pattern of roses in gold along its sleeves and collar– the epitome of a dashing man, next to your shambling mound.

“Stupid, sexy vampire,” you mutter under your breath. He only laughs and places yet another scarf around your neck.

Satisfied with his work, he takes a step back. “Would you look at that, my scary assassin is all ready to go outside,” he says, a bright smile on his face.

You level him with a murderous look, which loses some of its effect considering the scarves currently blocking your mouth. “I’ll show you scary,” you mumble, ready to attack your lover. You find that difficult now though, considering a slow shuffle is all that you can maintain.

He pays your death glares no mind, as he tucks one delicate little scarf around his own neck and declares that he’s ready to go outside as well.

You wobble after him, feeling nothing like the intimidating rogue you’re supposed to be. But you suppose if it means he won’t stop your snow celestials, some sacrifices, like your pride, must be made.

The first snowfall along the Sword Coast is always among the most beautiful and this year is no exception. Once you’ve made your way outside, you find yourself surrounded by a winter wonderland.

Pockets of snow line your roof, several inches of snow surround your house in every direction, and a light smattering of snow falls upon you now. You wish you could feel it, but between all of the layers, you only guess that it’s light and powdery– perfect for snow celestials.

Astarion peers around at the world, seeming rather unimpressed. “Well, isn’t that lovely. The ground is white.”

You ignore his lackluster response to the bounty of snow before you and make your way past him to the yard. With more of a stumble than a step, you fall into a particularly open patch of snow in front of your house. A puff of white snow explodes around you as you land, and you breathe out a single, “Oof.”

“Love, was that… on purpose?” Astarion asks, not far behind you.

“Mmhm,” you mumble into the snow. A backwards snow celestial it is. With all of the effort you can muster, you wave your arms and legs into the shape of wings and, well, whatever celestials had in place of legs. You can feel yourself overheating from the bundle of clothes surrounding you, but you’re determined to make this look good and ensure that Astarion understands that this is lovely.

After your exertions, you stop moving for a bit, just laying there in the impression of your snow celestial. Astarion, who’s likely been watching you this entire time, calls out, “Are you alright, dear?”

You raise your hand into a gloved thumbs up.

“Do you need help getting up?”

“Mhhhmmmm,” you groan into the snow. Your nose is starting to get cold and your sweat is chilling over.

“Alright then,” he responds, and you feel his legs carefully step around you, his arms tugging you onto your back and hoisting you up. Once you’re on your feet, your lover frowns at you and begins dusting you off with determination. “Darling, look at you. You’re going to get soaked to the bone with how much snow you’re covered in.”

“And whose fault is that?” you grumble at him.

“Yours, for insisting on the snow celestial,” he retorts, flicking your nose with his index finger.

That reminds you– You look down at your imprint in the snow, see what all of this unpleasant combination of cold and sweat got you. It’s a little lopsided, and both your and Astarion’s boots have left several footprints in the center, but it’s a solid attempt.

Brimming with pride at your work, you look to Astarion. “See? Look at how radiant my celestial looks.”

Astarion takes a look as well, and you can see the stifled laughter begging to come out.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” you say, pointing a stern finger at him.

He promptly defies you, as a hearty chuckle escapes him. “Sorry, dearest, but the hat you’re wearing makes it look like some kind of beholder.”

You look down to see that the tassels to your hat must have flung around as you moved, creating a crown of what could really only be described as eyestalks. “Well then. A snow aberration. I’m not picky,” you respond with a shrug.

Astarion smiles at you, open affection coloring his gaze, before he pulls you into a wide hug. “Fantastic work, love. Your talent is unmatched. And maybe– just maybe– it was worth all of the effort.”

You lean into him and his praise and say, “I suppose I should thank you for making sure I stayed warm.”

“Oh no need,” he says, squeezing you tightly. “Seeing you look like a large marshmallow is truly its own reward.” He drops his voice an octave and adds, “And somehow you still manage to look utterly enticing.”

You can barely feel his movements through the layers between you, so when he abruptly begins dragging you back to the house you give a surprised yelp. “What are you doing?”

“Your snow creature is done, now comes my favorite part– taking all of these layers off,” you catch Astarion’s quick wink before you’re ungracefully pulled after him.

There’s snow between your scarves, your toes have begun to chill, and fresh new snow is falling on your face, but somehow his words still warm you. “Was this your plan all along?”

“Naturally, my love. You know I would do anything to keep you warm,” his tone is innocent, the lidded eyes he gives you anything but. He must catch the flush covering your face because he laughs a melodic trill. “I’m starting to think I quite like wintertime.”

#bg3holidayfluffle23 #astarion x tav #astarion #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #fanfic #fluff

214 notes · View notes

ollieoxyde · 5 months

Text

Making of Siffrin model!

If anyone wanted to know how exactly I made this model I will lay it out in detail here! Although this way my first time making something like this so I’m not an expert.

The base is polymer clay (super sculpey I think) with a wire armature shoved in there just in case I drop him. The buttons for the cloak and the dagger are also clay. I used a sewing pin to get a very small hole for the buttons to be threaded through.

After baking, I put base coats of black and white with acrylic paint. If the brush strokes for the white paint are very visible, water it down and do multiple layers until it’s opaque.

After the base coat I moved on to smaller details like the face and boot heels, as well as shadows and highlights. It took me a few tries to get the face right, the one shown above isn’t the final.

It’s also a very good idea to varnish it, especially for the buttons or paint will rub off when passing them through the buttonholes. DuraClear is pretty cheap and works well. A few coats ultra-matte over the whole thing, then gloss to areas that should be shiny (eye, boots, gloves, buttons, dagger blade).

The eyepatch is just a tiny piece of black felt and some embroidery thread Elmer’s glued to the face.

The hair I was going to needle felt, but my white wool(left) was slightly yellowed and it looks weird in context. I ended up using a piece of cotton(right) from my bottle of melatonin*, shaping the ends into tufts with Elmer’s glue, letting it dry, then attaching it to the head. For the dyed parts I used watered down acrylics. I worked drop the hairline inwards, then smoothed it out with loose bits of cotton and glue.

I am a bit worried the glue will end up yellowing in time, we’ll have to see.

*their hair does smell faintly of strawberries because of this. Also a cotton ball would work functionally the same.

For the clothes patterns I mostly just winged it, checking if it fit on the model until I got something I liked before cutting the pieces out of white and light gray felt. I did go a little off-model for the cloak because it needed to be removable.

I attached the cloak lining with a backstitch, and the collar with a whipstitch. The buttonholes I cut with scissors and whipstitched the heck out of the edges after making sure they were big enough. I had made sure the holes in the buttons were big enough to thread a needle through when I made them so I could easily attach them.

The hat brim pieces I whipstitched together while they lay flat on top of each other very close to the edge of the fabric. I did the same with the pointy part, but also flipped it inside out afterwards. I used a running stitch along the edge to attach the top and bottom brim, and a backstitch with the pretty side on top to attach pointy piece while kind of folding it so the edge lays flat against the brim.

The last step was to use very watered down acrylics to make it look weathered.

And that’s it! Not sure if anyone really wanted this, but I figure it doesn’t hurt.

I’m happy to answer any questions!

#ISaT #in stars and time #isat siffrin #clay model #multimedia #polymer clay #isat fanart #fanart #step by step

68 notes · View notes

fryingpan1234567 · 5 months

Text

Uh huh. It’s the Day of the Dead.

(…Not today. Just. Bear with me here)

LISTEN

I think Hades kids have a natural death holiday calendar built into their internal clock. Every holiday honoring the dead and even when there’s nearby funerals or celebrations of death— a little ping goes off in the Underworld kids’ heads.

So Día de los Muertos rolls around one year, and Leo, who was expecting himself and a few Hispanic campers he knew of to be the only ones celebrating, nearly passes the fuck out when Nico and Hazel show up in matching skull paint.

Not sugar skulls. Just regular ones. But still, it’s each of their full faces and down their necks until it disappears into the collars of their shirts.

Hazel is wearing a black-orange-yellow dress that brushes her boots when she twirls, and crown of marigolds atop her cinnamon curls like a halo. In the black “eye sockets” around her eyes, she did a bright orange wing on each side that dissipated into yellow smoke floating up her face. She got Piper’s help with that part, but it was her idea.

Nico’s got big dramatic cracks on one eye and the other cheek and a black hoodie that’s way too big for him. It’s deadass Coco merch. Like the movie. The back says ✨Disney’s COCO✨ in big bright letters.

“I like the Book of Life better,” Leo joked, crossing his arms.

Nico blinked, confusion evident on his face.

“What?”

“Nice hoodie,” was all Leo said as he turned to continue on with his tamales, humming ‘Remember Me’ to himself.

Before you ask, yes, Leo painted his face too. Ornately. It’s a little bit wild.

There’s shading, there’s bright swirls and perfectly symmetrical flowers, there’s neon patterns of all kinds. He started the night with a chips and guac hat like. Like in Despicable Me. But he and Hazel traded later so he got a flower crown and she got a snack hat because she was absolutely fascinated by the concept. Also with Piper’s help, he got her to put orange streaks in his already unruly hair. Brother does not fuck around on the Day of the Dead. He’s lost too many people, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t recognize each and every one of them.

Even Festus got a new paint job. Leo told people Festus was his Alebrije. Which is why he’s pink and orange and blue and green. Obviously. (He did bring Leo back after he died, so that’s to his credit. Professional spirit guide shit.)

Anyways the mystery of why Frank and Will and Jason all had smudged paint on their faces was solved when a group of campers saw Jason fully make out with Leo in the quad, and Leo pushed his face away, hollering about how Jason was gonna ruin his paint. Jason just laughed at him and told him he’d help fix it later.

(Percy was home with his mom for the holiday, but camp gets an angry FaceTime the next day because they celebrated without him and they better wait next year I mean honestly the disrespect)

#wow I could go forever #I’m AWARE IT’S NOWHERE NEAR DÍA DE MUERTOS LEAVE ME ALONE #I simply vibe with the idea okay shh #riordanverse #chb #children of hades #nico di angelo #solangelo #hazel levesque #frazel #leo valdez #jason grace #valgrace #percy jackson #we stan Latino!Percy here idk what y’all sayin

84 notes · View notes

allloudontheeasternfront · 4 months

Text

Everything at Once part 4

Dieter Hellstrom x Original Fem Character

Thx for the support, let me know any ideas for the future.

Should I add some more Landa content? 😏😏😏 We all love that smuggy man.

Warnings: cursing, N*zis, discrimination, flirting, implied smut, kissing, Dieter still is a little jackass, etc. I do not support N*zis in any shape or form. This is just a fanfic for a character from a film.

(I know this isnt Dieter but August looks so handsome in this)

Camille quickly shut the door to her flat and hid behind the door giggling. As she heard the loud thumps of Dieter's boots going up the stone steps, she took off his hat and studied it.

It was a black visor crusher cap with silver embellishments. One of the little charms was the infamous Iron Eagle; an eagle with its wings stretched out holding the swastika inside a wreath of oak leaves. It would be pretty if the swastika and the meaning wasnt there.

Below there was an emblem of a skull. Her throat got dry. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Has he himself killed people? Or is he just a messenger man?

Her face got pale and her heart raced. Her medallion sparkling on her mantle. She quickly hid the star in the soil of the flower that was sitting next to it.

Dieter knocked on the door, putting his ear to it to try and hear anything.

"Mademoiselle?" He called out

She swallowed the lump in her throat and opened the door a crack.

"Oui...?" She replied not looking at him.

"My cap, Mademoiselle. I need it."

She slowly gave it to him with shakey hands. He noticed and pushed the door open a little wider. Her blue eyes were fixed on him like a mouse about to be devoured by a cat.

"Is everything alright?" Dieter asked.

Camille nodded, her hands still shaking.

He is a Nazi...I cant like him.

Dieter smiled suggestively and put his cap on Camille's head, she flinched.

The lid of the cap went over eyes as it was much too large for her. She tilted it up and looked in his eyes.

His eyes read something differently...

Lust...

No, he cant. I'm not what he is wanting...

Dieter took her hands into his and brought them to his lips. He kissed each knuckle softly.

"Du bist so schön..." he whispered in German. (You're so beautiful )

Not knowing what he exactly said, she carefully took his hands out of his and took the cap off.

"Take it.." she whispered. He took it and tossed it away.

Dieter's eyes read more primal lust as he stepped forward and Camille stepping back, eventually cornering her.

He put is hands on each side of the wall, looming over her smaller frame.

"Are you scared of me?" He asked smirking.

Yes...

"No." She said with the little confidence she had left.

"No...?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "I dont think I believe you.."

Stop fucking interrogating me...

"Please...Monsieur..." out of the corner of her eye she saw her Star of David medallion glittering in the flower pot. Her heart was pounding. "You have to go..."

Dieters face dropped.

"And why is that?" His voice completely changed. The same tone he used the first time they met. Annoyed.

"Um...my father will be home soon." Camille lied. Of course he wont, the Nazi standing in front of the girl is no better then the ones who took her father away.

Dieter scoffed softly and moved away from her looking around the neatly decorated flat. Lace, floral patterns and vintage antiques filled the place. He looked at the wooden rocking chair by the same balcony he feasted his eyes upon a while ago. There was a small stuffed bear sitting there...it mocked him. The girl was clearly terrified of him being there, in the corner watching his every move.

"Forgive my intrusion, Mademoiselle. I'll be going." He said with the same stone wall face from before. He clicked his heels, took his cap back and walked out the door.

Camille panicked. Maybe just a kiss?

"Wait!" She yelled after him and raced down stairs to catch him.

She caught up with him at the bottom and placed both of her hands on his face.

Cold.

She bought his face to hers and kissed his lips softly. Her dark pink lips moved on his thin pale ones.

She pulled back and stared at him...

Maybe he isn't so bad...?

His eyes screamed for more and they kissed again with more passion.

He held her closely and tightly to him. One hand gripped on her waist and the other moving across her hair.

He pulled her back and she gasped.

"You'll kiss me here but not in the flat?" He asked and moved his head to her neck. He kissed across the soft skin.

She couldnt tell him yet....no not yet. She couldnt tell him she is a Jew. He'll kill her immediately...

She couldnt answer him, all she did was breathe heavily from his lips exploring her decolletage.

He fingered the buttons to her dress, eventually opening it fully exposing her half-naked body. He gently laid her on the ground and moved on top of her covering her completely.

She took his hat off and threw it across the room and ran her fingers across his black hair.

The two stayed like this for a moment. Suddenly she felt him play with the hem of her underwear...

"Dieter..." she whispered.

He hummed as he kissed across her chest, slowly opening her bra and running his hands across her breasts.

"Are you sure about this...?"

"Are you not?" He answered.

Relax Camille...relax...

"I'm....not experienced...." she admitted with her eyes screwed shut.

Dieter chuckled.

"And you think I am?"

She opened her eyes and met his.

"But...you're an officer? You must have plenty of women." Dieter kept chuckling to himself at her innocence.

"You see plenty of men at your bakery? Do you fuck them all?" He asked bluntly.

Her face went as red as a tomato.

"Well...no."

"Only me, eh?" He smirked and caressed her cheek.

Nazi...pig....blue eyes...pale skin...smile....beautiful stupid face..

"Oui." She whimpered as he took off her remaining dress.

BRRRRRIIIIIIING

They both gasped at the sound of the clock.

Dieter looked at the Grandfather clock in the corner.

Midnight.

Shit...Hans needed me for some stupid event rehearsal. Dieter thought.

He quickly got off of her and stood up.

Exposed and embarrassed, Camille say up and covered herself.

"I have to go, liebling." He bent down and kissed her passionately.

"I will see you again yes?"

No...

"Yes." She replied with sadness in her eyes. Dieter smiled genuinely and kissed her forehead and then took her hand in his and squeezed.

"Auf Wiedersehen meine Schönheit." (Good bye my beautiful)

Camilled watched at the officer raced out of the building. The chimes to her door ringing violently.

Remose and regret filled her mind. She slowly buttoned her dress back up. Thank God the drapes were closed and no one saw her about to be demolished by an officer in her own business. She slowly trudged to the kitchen saw the stupid paper with the word "Vertreibung" stamped in scary German calligraphy.

Tears filled her eyes as she curled up on a ball on the floor, clutching the paper to her chest.

When will it end? She thought as she cried softly.

Her mind drifted to Dieter. He can't know her identity...he cant. It would kill him and definitely kill her...Maybe he is different? The swastika, Gestapo uniform amd intimidating stance says otherwise. Why does she care about some officer's feelings? The thought of him finding out and the possibility of what he'd do to her, made her nauseous.

"Please dont tell me he is in love..." she prayed aloud.

His face riddled with lust and want flooded her memories...she caught herself wanting more.

To be continued...

@whore4waltz @rurivu @xoxocillian @fridaycanbesadsometimes @racheljo47 @whitechoc135 @officerh4t @blueberrypancakesworld @hanslandasstrudel

#august diehl #german actors #inglorious basterds #dieter hellstrom #dieter hellstrom x reader #inglorious basterds fanfic #inglourious basterds #inglorious basterds (2009)#so bad

51 notes · View notes

mudandmire · 3 months

Text

WIP Wednesday - Ghost

Azriel made a deal with the Mother thirty years ago: his service in return for Eris's life. Azriel leaves no impression on the world anymore, no footprints or sounds. The only thing he leaves behind are rivers - endless erosions of blood through the stone he bore the day Eris died. His obedience, in return for Eris's survival. There is no other way.

...

There are no footprints in the snow. This close to the border Autumn has with Winter, the clouds hang low to the tops of the conifers. Thick, grey blankets heavy with the flurry of flakes that fall fast to the Autumn floor. Everything is dusted with it, the shells of leaves, the shrubs and weeds that carpet the ground—every burrow is sealed away. Somewhere high in the mountains, the jaws that cut the line of the territories, he waits.

Azriel stands unmoving in a clearing. His feet make no imprint, his breath no steam. The watery, pale light frosts over the scene before him, where even the vivid jewel patterns of autumn fade to grey tones. His chest rises and falls, the only movement apart from the dry bones rustle of barren boughs against each other in the canopies.

Every sense is at attention. The hunter, the executioner—both have been called to this ceremony. He just happened to get here early.

His wings twitch when he hears boots in the snow. The crunching of new frost, hurried footsteps and the scuffling sound of a struggle. All that greets him when he inhales deeply is the crisp scent of cold. A familiar smell from his youth in Windhaven. It burns through his nose all the same.

"Fuck—stop struggling." There, a voice through the trees. Gruff, like it was spoken into the collar of a jacket. He can sense the strain in the words—they're dragging something.

Azriel's head tilts just so. The movement is eerie under his hood, predatory. A wolf cocking its ears. His hands remain behind his back under the fold of his wings. Patience, after all, is part of the fun.

Again, a voice reaches out to him, brought on the hissing tendrils of his accompanying darkness—his shadows.

"I thought you said the faebane would be enough!" It's a normal voice. The rounded vowels of the Autumn Court, and a slight rasp in the throat like he'd been strangled one too many times.

"I—shit, I did. That's what she told me."

The other males scoff is ugly, locked up from the chill this far up the mountain slope.

"That's the last time I let you be in charge of the sedative."

Azriel's tongue swipes out, wetting his chapped bottom lip. He can taste the tang of their stress in the wind; bitter like ripened sweat. He feels the pound of their pulse through the breadth of the snow covered ground if he shifts his feet just so. His eyes close. He won't look, won't cheat. Not yet. Besides, he knows all he needs to know about these males: their heads, the nervous trembling to their blue-tinged fingers, the darting of their eyes to every spare corner of the forest. Cornered, disturbed, unafraid to lash out.

He knows that whatever it is they have, has no right being sedated. Hauled like a sack of rice to a little, forgotten corner of this Court and disposed of to no one's eyes under the unsympathetic grey blanket of sky.

No one's eyes, except Azriel's.

He shifts, finding the thread of the males pulses through the ground. Beneath him, the coating of snowfall lays pristine.

The shuffling grows closer, as does the grunts of exertion. Azriel can smell them now, the acrid tang of their sweat and the fetid scent of their breath. Day old alcohol, still lingering on their lips, high in the rosiness of their cheeks.

"Here, we'll do it here." The one with the rasp says. Azriel keeps his back turned at the hollow thump of a body against the earth.

It's pulse is there; weak, but still thumping. The antsy rabbiting of a heart that knows it needs to fight.

His shadows still. Unnatural in its right; the shadows are constantly moving, shaping, bouncing where the light grows and shrinks its domain. Now, they go preternaturally quiet, the buzzing in his head fades as they slink around his shoulders.

This, this, they whisper. We do not know what to make of this.

Azriel nearly rolls his eyes at them. It is not the first time they've had an assignment like this. In now thirty years it certainly won't be the last.

He figures now is as good as any time. The males seem distracted, their muscles loosened with ease, warm with adrenaline and the thrill of getting away undetected.

Foolish, foolish souls. They are not worth the blood on Azriel's blade.

This, this. His shadows hiss again, a rising chorus of confusion and spite that sparks embers in his blood.

Azriel turns, silent as the flakes fall, and freezes.

Bright, copper hair spills out onto the snowdrift. A streak of an auburn ribbon in the ever-white world, this in between space of bejeweled autumn and pale winter. His face is turned, right half buried in the swell of the drift. A bruise, like a roiling thundercloud, blooms along the left side of his cheekbone up to his temple where it disappears into his hair. He's pale, skin nearly translucent where it's pressed to the cold snow, blue at the lips. The only color that remains, not leached from his body or under his twitching eyelids, is the copper shock of his hair and the purpling, violet-green contusion on his face.

This. The shadows round his shoulders, his wrists, legs, the tips of his wings and hum.

The first male, the one who seemingly botched the sedative, stretches his back.

"Mother's tits," he curses, blowing hot air into his cupped hands. "Let's get this over with so we can get somewhere warm." His dark, brown hair escapes from behind a pointed ear.

Azriel hasn't moved, hasn't drawn a single breath. The entirety of him is motionless, even his shadows don't dare to make sudden movements. His gaze, under the shade of his hood, is locked on the spill of copper hair. They map upwards from there, tracing it like the curves of a river until they land on familiar, but unknown territory.

There's a hollow in him. A space once filled but now not. It echoes when he brushes against it, that old, familiar pain rising up with a gasp and a bite to his heart. Tripping, tumbling, till it knocks against the bones of his rib cage and continues to beat against them. He can faintly feel the bond. This close it's drawing him in: two ends of a book closed together, and he craves it desperately.

Azriel sucks in a breath, harsh and cold, shocking him enough to blink his frozen stare away. Burned cinnamon, and the delectable smell of that nutty, slightly earthy scent greets him.

This, this, this. It's grown into a chant, his shadows moving in the strange, halting way they do when there's an end—a goal.

Eris Vanserra has been brought here to die.

Azriel of the Mother has been ordered here to kill.

...

~~~ This is just a fun lil something I thought I'd share. I've been pondering it for a while, but honestly I just got so caught up in all the logistics and if it would match the lore that I lost interest and passion completely. It's only been recently that I've come back around to it because I said screw it - I like this concept, I want to explore it. If it doesn't match the lore or timelines - to hell with both of them! Fanfiction is for fun! I know SJM lore is important and whatnot, but I'm a little kid playing in a sandbox with my bucket and shovels - there is nothing but limitless potential here :D ~~~

#azris #azriel x eris #current wip #this is going to be very fun to write #but also . a lot of emotions.#we'll see if I can keep this one going idk folks work is kicking my ass 😔#is wip wednesday a thing??

53 notes · View notes

fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

Text

Fly, Little Bat

ship: Nessian type: fluffy drabble word count: 1,3k words warnings: none summary: first time flying for Nessian's daughter, for @nessianweek ❤️

The sun is shining brightly in the sky, casting a beautiful glow upon the weathered trees that stand tall in front of the mountainous landscape. Birds chirp somewhere in the distance, leaves rustling in the soft wind that blows around them.

Cassian, his wings already stretched wide, turns his head to glance over his shoulder. "Ready, little bat?"

Alayla wears an expression of worry. Her brows are furrowed, drawn together over the bridge of the nose, her lips are pressed in a thin line and she drags the tip of her booted foot over the ground. Cassian's heart breaks at the sight.

His tiny daughter, dressed in her teeny-tiny Illyrian leathers stands in the middle of the forest, and looks so very lost in this moment. Her wings are draped on the ground, dragging over the pine needles and pebbles and he can almost feel the pain.

The general quickly spins around, taking fast steps towards his little girl and folds in his own wings. He lifts his hand to his mate who was about to approach as well, tilting his head, so she understands that he wants to deal with this now. And this is fine for Nesta, she stays at the little rock she is seated on, looking forward to watching her mate teach their daughter how to fly.

Nesta, just like always when Cassian and Alayla do something together, feels how her heart swells in her chest, thrumming with happy beats. It is a sight for sore eyes, and she knows she couldn't have hoped for a better father for her little baby than Cassian. He is everything a child can hope for.

"What is up, little bat?" Cassian asks in a calm voice as he crouches down in front of his little girl.

Alayla only barely lifts her gaze, her fingers fidgeting with a lapel on her Illyrian leathers.

"What if I fall?" she asks in a shaky voice, her whole body shuddering when her biggest fear is finally revealed.

"Oh, Layly," Cassian breathes and immediately reaches out to pull her into his strong arm. "You won't fall. We practiced so much, so many days. I know you can fly, you a great at it. There is no chance you will fall." Cassian kisses the top of her head when she relaxes against him, sitting down on his thigh. Cassian is still crouching on the ground, letting his daughter sit down and nestle against him.

The tip of her index finger pokes into his shoulder and she draws patterns onto his shirt. "But what if I suddenly forget how it works? What if my wings suddenly give in?"

She leans her head against his shoulder with a dramatic sigh.

Cassian gives her tight squeeze, and hums. "Little bat, you always have to remember that the wings are an extension of your will. They mirror your thoughts and emotions. If you want them to be strong and carry you, they will do so."

Alayla leans back the slightest bit and gazes at her father's face, eyes wide open. Behind her shoulders her wings quiver with anticipation. "You really mean it?" she asks, her voice a little steadier.

Cassian nods. "I absolutely do." He lifts her back onto the ground again and straightens up a bit. "But, in case, really just in case, they do give in, I am here to catch you. I am always by your side, and I will catch you when you only as much as tumble."

The young Illyrian girl smiles at that and nods. She looks so much like Cassian, it almost always draws tears to his eyes. But, she has his mate's eyes, his mate's nose, she is just perfect.

"But, we don't have to do this today, Layly. We can postpone flying until you are ready," Cassian then says, reaching his hand out for his daughter to take. "You don't have to fly today." All of a sudden, something like determination fills her eyes, and she stomps her little foot down. "But I want to do it now, daddy." She smiles up at him, eyes shining brightly. "I decided I want to do it today and I want to fly today."

Cassian chuckles at the sudden change in mood of his daughter and mentally reminds himself that she definitely got that from her mother.

"Then, nothing can stop you anymore." He grins.

Once they stop at the edge of the slope, Alayla is a mixture of excitement and nervousness, emotions bubbling up inside of her.

Cassian slowly extends his wings, and the girl mimics his gesture. "Spread your wings, as if embracing the sky, Layly," he instructs, his words like a soft caress.

Pride starts to bubble inside of him, and he knows it will only increase when she takes the sky.

With a slow inhale, Alayla steadies herself on the ground, her feet planted in a stance.

She imagines herself weightless, as the wind wraps around her and carries her over the sky.

"And don't forget," Cassian says, "I am always by your side. You are never alone."

Her wings unfurl tentatively at first, the leathery skin shining in the sunlight that filters through the trees.

Cassian stands beside her, his own wings casting a shadow upon half of her body.

"Let go of your doubts, Layly. And then… let go of ground."

With a determined exhale, Alayla pushes up, wings tense and spread wide. She lifts onto her tiptoes, wings starting to flutter behind her shoulders. Her expression is concentrated. Brows drawn together, teeth clenched, hands balled into fists.

"Remember what uncle Az always said, you were born listening to song of the wind."

Alayla nods eagerly, somehow hanging between the ground and the air for a split second. And then…she takes off, wings flapping and fluttering eagerly.

She tumbles a little at first, but suddenly darts towards the open sky. Cassian cheers and hollers behind her, following her.

Nesta, jumping up from the rock, runs forward and cheers as well, shouting loudly, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Yes!" she shouts up into the sky. "Yes, my little baby. Yes! Look at you go!"

An enormous amount of pride fills Cassian, following after his daughter. He brings a hand up, to brush away a single tear that rolls out of his eyes. But more are coming.

Alayla was truly born for flying. She dips and soars, happily and freely, giggling and cheering herself. "Daddy, look!" she shouts over to Cassian who follows her with the biggest grin on his face. His daughter's laughter fills the sky, dancing on the wind.

Below, Nesta watches, tears shimmering in her eyes. Her heart swells with an overwhelming love for her family, and so very much pride. She marvels at the sight in the sky above her.

Cassian is carefully flying behind little Alayla while the little girl blazes through the sky. Nesta knows she is always safe with Cassian, she does not have to worry about her little girl falling.

The two of them stay in the sky for only the Mother knows how long.

And until, Cassian captures his little girl in his arms. Her excitement has out-ruled her exhaustion and she did not realise that she was growing tired.

Alayla rests her head on her father's shoulder, arms curled around Cassian's neck, his strong arm around her, as he lowers the two of them to the ground. She sighs, and her eyes flutter shut.

"Someone's a little tired," he hums and walks up to Nesta after touching down on the ground.

He places a soft kiss against his mate's lips, marvelling at the feel of having the two most important people in his life here with him. He is so happy, so proud, so filled with love and joyfulness.

"It was amazing. She was amazing," Nesta says in a soft voice, eyes still glazed with tears.

"I knew she was going to be great at flying." Cassian speaks with pride and utter admiration, his eyes sparkling and he wraps Nesta into his other arm.

"She also had a great teacher," his mate says and kisses his chest. "I love you two so much."

~~~~~~~ tags: @helhjertet@moonlightazriel@aayo-whatt@crushedcloudsx@brekkershadowsinger@girasoli-e-sorrisi@ignite-me@swifti-ed@cassiansbigwingspan@burningsnowleopard@banasheefan56@a-frog-with-a-laptop

#nessian #nessian daughter #nesta x cassian #acotar #acosf #cassian #nesta #nessianweek2023

171 notes · View notes

eiyuuou · 2 years

Text

I just wish you could see more of discowing in todays costume…

please forgive my bad phone handwriting I was on a bus doodling this — more thoughts and rambling under the cut

Obviously the fingerstripes were going to be there but I also really like the 2021 design of having the blue palm as well. I like the idea that it’s like an extra grippy material.

I wanted the V pattern on the chest to be obviously bird-like but the eagle head…. Just is not my favourite. I DO like the little chips making the V look like wings from TNBA. I know there’s also a version of the flying graysons that have this design on the chest I just cannot remember which comic it was from

I know he’s supposed to be a night guy and stealthy and all but I really liked bright coloured boots from his first two outfits… and if he can wear pixies boots as a kid he’s allowed bright boots now

The neckline is inspired by the new52 fit (the design element I like the most aside from those funky little hip stripes, but I think they’d made this suit too busy) it also seems like it’d just be more comfortable on the neck honestly

And then I wanted his domino mask to harken back a bit more to his robin one so I smoothed out the bottom :)

#dick Grayson #nightwing #redesign #dc comics #WTF non-pixel art?! now that’s effed up #I promise I’ll make an actually polished ref when I’m near a computer again #I just HATE doing linework and shading on a phone outside of pixel art #something something 100 issue celebration #I was trying to pick elements from each of his old costumes that I really liked #this is - to be clear - essentially just modern discowing with fingerstripes though #mine #the bust of this doodle turned into that discowing doodle lol

998 notes · View notes

needfantasticstories · 3 months

Text

Chapter 9: A Rescue

Summary:

Legend tries to escape the Yiga hideout. He finds a friend.

Legend rushed onward, but hardly made it to the next room before he had to stop and collect himself, both his breath and his tumbling thoughts.

What in the Sacred Realm just happened? Time slowing down, the Teacher letting him walk away? This wasn’t how dungeons worked. Nothing was adding up.

He leaned on the wall and assessed the room.

Practice dummies lined one wall, weapons on the other. Each dummy had a devilish sketch pinned to the face—a face with distinctive blond hair.

The veteran stumbled over to it, snatched the paper free, and laughed. These were somehow worse than his old wanted posters! Wild had to see it. By Din’s dance, he’d make it out of here just to shove this in Wild’s face. The others would never let him live it down. Nor, of course, would he.

His prize safely stowed away, the veteran lit up the now-faceless dummy to mark his path, but didn’t ignite the rest of the room: they might need to come back this way, and after the inferno he created earlier, he should probably reserve at least enough oxygen for the journey out.

He moved on, and found the last hall in this wing. Peering around the corner, Legend came face-to-face with a stark white mask.

The footsoldier raised a hand to whistle an alarm. Legend swung his blade faster.

He wiped his sword clean, checked the map, then followed the switchbacking halls. These led to mirrored rows of tiny rooms on the bottom edge of the map. A prison, most likely. Not an ideal place to find Hyrule, but a likely one.

Ahead in the next hall, two burly guards paced.

Memories of his first adventure bubbled to the surface. If only Hyrule had Zelda’s telepathy.

Legend’s boots made no sound, and then no guards remained. He ran, and the floor sloped ever downward. His steps, quiet as they were, still echoed. This felt more like a dungeon than anything he’d seen so far.

Passing through one last stone archway, he found the hall lined with cave-like cells. He checked through the bars of each one. All gaped back at him, empty, until the fourth. From the dark, red eyes glared back at him. Legend lit up his firerod and peered closer. A Yiga soldier glared back at him, still in uniform but unmasked, his face heavily scarred by what looked like bear claws. He was bound, and the ropes were tagged with the inverse design of the many papers stuck around the caves. Sheikah magic, musty as moss, but mingled with something wrong, something heavy as tar. It must be some spell to prevent teleporting, he guessed.

The brawny Yiga man stared at him, incredulous, then bellowed, “Guards!” Apparently he was still loyal to his clan, despite whatever crimes he’d committed. Legend knew they would not answer.

Legend moved on to the next cell, knowing the guards would not be coming. In the next cell, a slight figure stepped forward into the dim glow of the torchlights. Gold eyes looked back at him surrounded by a faint shimmer of fairy-magic.

Rulie!

No, too small.

A little girl approached the bars, folding her arms as she scrutinized him, her nose held high. It was as long as the Old Man’s. Bold red hair, pulled in a high ponytail, curled at the end like a piglet’s tail.

A Gerudo child?

Bright, ornate flower patterns covered her thin slippers and silk clothes. Stranger still, they glimmered with hints of fairy magic, identical to Wild’s tunic, but dimmer. He’d encountered magic clothing before, but the fluid, nectar-sweet fairy magic was distinct from the sharp, clean bite of Hytopian magic, or the chilling, weightlessness and mystic glow of Lorulean weaves. He resolved to finally buckle down and ask Wild about his tunic as soon as he got the chance. Fairy blessed clothing was exceptionally rare in his own era, but here apparently even little kids wore it.

The girl watched him closely, her stare intense as a beamos, while he quickly checked the last two cells.

Empty.

Legend tamped down his disappointment, and with a voice hoarse with ash and smoke, asked, “Either of you see a brown-haired boy with gold eyes? Wears a green tunic?”

The little girl shook her head, earrings tinkling, but her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re a voe !”

“A what?” Legend asked, but she only scowled. He shrugged, too tired to puzzle out what that meant.

The maskless Yiga soldier gaped at Legend. “What?” He hissed, “Then… you don’t have him either?” He gave a dark, mirthless laugh, shaking his head as his smirk dissolved into a snarl. “Oh, I knew it was that demon! Sooga warned us! That monster won’t be controlled, no matter what it promises! It can’t be trusted!” He lunged at the bars, shoved his face as far as he could between them, and bellowed toward the very-dead guards, “It was the sword! It wasn’t my fault!”

Legend’s knees threatened to give out, and he leaned against the bars of an empty cell. This all made less and less sense. Hyrule hadn’t escaped… he’d never arrived in the first place? He was never here ! The veteran shook his head, his vision swimming from exhaustion, both magical and physical.

Another red potion. He dropped the empty glass in his bag, then wiped sweat and ash from his face with a shaky hand.

“Right.” He turned to the child, collecting himself, plastering a friendly mask over his frustrations. “Want out?” He regretted the disappointment still heavy in his voice.

“Of course,” The girl sniped, still eyeing him suspiciously. Whatever “voes” were, she didn’t seem to trust them.

The scapegoated Yiga soldier yelled for the guards again, loud and desperately as he glared at both of them. Legend wanted to scream back at him, to throw fire into the cell. He’d already spent so much time in this cursed place and his brother wasn’t even here !

Din’s teeth. Hyrule! Where are you?

But he also felt a spark of pity for the idiot who took the fall for something he didn’t actually do.

Instead, Legend braced himself for one last fight, one last rescue to complete, before leaving this whole place behind. There were no other leads to chase here.

This girl looked strong for her age, but she was still small, barely up to his elbow, and too young to help much in the escape. He’d need to do this on his own.

“Alright. Stand back!” Legend shouted to her. He aimed his fire rod, about to torch the wood beams that served as bars, and the talismans, and use his shield to barrel through when they were weak enough, but the girl scoffed and pointed behind him.

A rope and pulley system. One designed to open cell doors.

Legend grumbled. If she wasn’t a young kid in need, he might have stuck with the fire rod plan.

He needed to slow down, to think. Legend put the weapon away and yanked the fifth lever. Arms crossed, she came out and stared him up and down again . She had gold eyes like ‘Rulie’s, but red hair as bright as hibiscus, just like—

“Can you actually get us out of here?” she demanded. “How old are you, voe? You don’t look like a grown up, and voe like you aren't even…well…”

Oh, this was going to be a nuisance. “Aren’t what?” Legend stared her down.

“Tough?” she said, throwing out a hand, eyebrows raised, as if this was common knowledge and he was an idiot.

Oh Sweet Nayru’s blessings... “First, I don’t know what a voe is. Second, whoever said it is probably wrong about them, generalizations are never good. Third, we need to go. Now.”

She scowled. “How did you get in here? How do I know you’re not one of them ? They looked just like my aunts when they took me. You could be a Yiga in disguise.”

Okay, fair . But every second here was a second wasted. “Would they bother pretending to be someone else inside their own base?”

She chewed her lip and seemed to mull it over.

“You’re staying here, then?” Come on, kid!

“I… no,” she admitted, uncrossing her arms, “but they said they’d kill me if I tried to escape again. I can’t get caught.”

“They always say stuff like that. They’re idiots. Can you ride on my back? We’ll move faster if you let me carry you.” He held out a winged pegasus boot. Maybe she was familiar with other magic clothes. She only nodded and climbed quickly onto his back.

The girl muffled her squeal of surprise into Legend’s shoulder as he dashed back the way he’d come, breezing through passages and skidding around corners, until they entered a new hall.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” the girl hissed when he slowed down and silently checked the passage ahead. It was clear. Oddly clear.

“Yes!” he shot back.

“I’m just asking! How do you know?” She demanded.

Legend checked his tone this time and took a centering breath. “Because I checked the map.”

“How come you’re dressed like a vai?”

Zelda, Hilda, and even Ravio were never this annoying when sneaking through dungeons. “What is a… listen, kid, just… hush.”

Legend stopped at the end of the hall. A sense of danger opened like a pit in his stomach. He fidgeted, shifted the girl more securely, and crept slowly up to the next turn to listen. Something felt off.

At first, he heard nothing but the girl breathing too loudly over his shoulder. But no… it wasn’t just her. He could hear the soft brush of feet on sand, the creaking dry of leather, and small sniffs and grunts beyond.

Soldiers ahead. They were waiting. Another ambush.

Legend slid the girl off and signaled her for silence. Slipping on his red cape once more, he poured his magic into it and peered around the corner.

It was a cavernous room he’d passed earlier, scorched remains of a storage tower bearing witness. The cave was tall, long, and rather narrow and winding. Short walls, fences, and steps divided it into three parts.

Scattered wall to wall, dozens of foot soldiers crouched in readiness to attack anything that entered from the lowest room. It was the path he’d taken to the skulltulas. Legend suppressed a grin. Perhaps the Teacher hadn’t told anyone he’d reentered another way?

That chilly canyon door would take them north into freezing mesas, away from the desert this girl surely came from. And that shrine was useless without Wild’s slate. They had to risk the desert exit to get her home, no matter what men or monsters stood in their path.

His current hiding spot—a narrow hall deep in the shadows—led to the middle portion of the room and the burnt remains, the stink of charred wood and burnt bananas still thick in the air.

He looked left, and found exactly what he needed: at that end, the entrance to stone stairs, cut from the caves, like every other structure in the hideout. They led around and up to a bridge that spanned over the stairs’s entrance and to an open doorway that led to their final destination, according to the map: a round room, one with many doors tucked inside narrow alcoves. One of them led outside, to freedom. Legend could even see the faintest yellow glow of sunlight overpowering dim torchlight, peeking through the distant arch.

“I know you are there, Hero of Legend.” A deep, hypnotic voice echoed through the cavern like a spell.

Legend jerked back behind the corner, yanked the girl up, and wrapped the cape over them both. The girl moved stiff as a log, and he hardly blamed her when her nails dug into his skin. This man’s voice was unsettling, crawling over his skin like insects, blurring the line between sounds in the room and sounds in his own head.

Was this the mage, at last? The one with the stench of rot, who hopefully didn’t know about Legend’s pilfering? He couldn’t see through the cloak’s magic, could he?

The intoxicating voice spoke again. “Don’t you wish to find him?”

Legend ignored him as he stepped out of the hall, watching for a reaction from the masked soldiers. None of them turned his way. Good . They had to risk it, while the old man yapped. Their sound would cover their footsteps if they were lucky.

The voice surrounded them again, masking its origin. “You and I know he is fated to die. But what comes after? I can show you how to bring him back from death. That's all any of us want, for the dead to return to us,” echoed the voice in the stone ceiling above.

Legend knew fate was, in fact, rather flexible. Going back in time and meeting his own ancestor, Sir Raven, had changed many things in his Hyrule. The sorceress Veran had nearly erased Legend when she tried to execute Sir Raven, and wreak havoc in an ancient time that should have been secure and unchangeable in the warp and weft of fate, if such a thing existed. Clearly, it did not.

With these memories, Legend steeled his mind against the words. He was rather picky about which disembodied voices to trust anyway.

As he fully entered the room, he searched for the source, stepping softly forward but not activating the pegasus boots. He needed every drop of magic for the cape to keep them both hidden, and his magic was draining fast.

Legend padded forward on his toes, balancing the girl and himself in careful silence with every step, weaving breathlessly between dozens of footsoldiers toward the stairs. One soldier spun a spear, bored and restless, and the veteran carefully timed his run past it.

He ducked under a Blademaster’s sword, held in fidgeting hands. Ignoring the pit of anxiety building in his gut, Legend continued to maneuver between soldiers and their whispered grumbles of where is that stupid kid , and let’s just storm the hall already . He squeezed between them at a lull in their conversation when they turned to other neighbors to quietly continue to grouse.

They all still faced the lowest level, clearly expecting him to come from that way. Let them waste their efforts, the idiots .

He danced between two more blademasters, both of which stood a head taller than Time, nearly Teacher’s height. It was harder to notice short interlopers like him from their vantage point, and at last Legend’s chest relaxed at the knowledge that they were close, at last, to the stairs, and to escape.

But the girl began to tremble. She tried to hide it, flexing and relaxing her fingers, but still he felt her whole body shivering.

Not far ahead now, just beyond a group of yawning scythe-wielders, the stairs waited. The first steps were blocked by three assassins.

“ Walk faster ,” the girl whispered.

Legend dared not answer, or move faster.

“ Hurry !” she begged in an ever louder whisper, digging her fingers tighter into the shoulder of his tunic.

Legend shook his head, watching the guards around them for any clue that they’d heard the girl’s plea.

She barely breathed, but kept shifting, the swish of fabric far too loud, as she looked back and forth at the soldiers surrounding them.

She’s panicking!

Legend moved closer to the left wall and slid along it where the rows of soldiers ended, leaving just enough room for the toteming pair to turn at the corner and slip behind them, parallel to the bridge. They just had to reach the stairs, only a few feet away.

The voice filled the cavern and his mind again. “He will die, hero. Fate and the gods have willed it so.” Fear wrapped him with every word, wrapping like coils around him.

Fuck fate , he scoffed in his head, and the fear loosened, but still followed him.

“I can teach you a spell that will weave him back together.”

Legend stopped and swallowed hard, heart thundering in his chest as the fear caught up to him.

It’s a lie. And yet, he struggled to take another step. Why do they keep saying that? A spark of anxious hope flared at the words. Is it possible? If Hyrule were to die, somehow, or any of them, is there a way to bring them back? Stop! They don’t have Hyrule , and it’s probably dark magic, he reminded himself. They don’t even know where the demon is .

Legend scanned the way forward, and found the voice’s source. Above him on the bridge stood a man in purple robes. Four soldiers guarded him, two on either side. For a brief moment, Legend’s heart raced at the folds of purple fabric. But no, these robes were dull, dark, and the draped hood bore no silly, familiar ears. Instead, a withered face stared across the room, amber eyes nearly glowing from the hood.

“Believe it or not, we want the same thing.” The mage droned on, the buzzing on Legend’s skin growing stronger as he spoke. He longed to itch everywhere, but resisted. The girl did not.

Legend grimaced at the words, the false familiarity it established between them, and the paralyzing spell of fear. Din, this same shit again? It sounded no different from the weird old Teacher, and the demon’s nonsense about the red thread of fate. Whale it stung to turn his mind away from Hyrule– not abandoning him! Not giving up! —he thought about the girl trembling on his back. Right now, she needed him. That’s all that mattered.

“Hero…think about your friend. He will need your help.”

Hyrule’s blood. Hyrule’s death . That’s what these people wanted.

He would not offer himself as a pawn in their plot.

Regardless, the stairs were too crowded to continue.

Legend was stuck.

“Reveal yourself, and we will talk. I promise no harm will come to you. But you will help, either way. For I have seen it. Fate will not be thwarted.”

He crouched and quietly bent enough to set the girl on her feet, and dug in his pouch.

“ Don’t you dare leave me here! ” she hissed, clinging to him.

He shook his head slightly, and she slowly let go of his shoulder but held tight to his belt. Hands free, he downed another potion, tart and dry on his tongue but washing his body wholeness . He’d need it all for what he was about to do.

The girl slipped off his back. He tried not to panic, but she left one arm on him and climbed back up a moment later.

Her arm snaked down his, her fist over his hand, and something spilling out. He opened his palm. She dropped sand and pebbles into it.

What?

“ A distraction. ”

Oh.

Dirt could work, but he could do better. Legend drew out a boomerang, an old one with no magic. He hated to lose it, but it had a purpose now. From the shadow of the bridge, he threw it. It was easy to mistake for a keese in the dim light, but the clatter it made on the far side of the cavern sent a shockwave among the soldiers. Dozens of them rushed to the sound.

The Yiga on the stairs disappeared to investigate.

Legend hauled the girl up the stairs, his foot slipping a little on the sand as he climbed.

At the top was another cell, oddly separated from the dungeon. He checked inside.

Empty.

But there, midway across the bridge, stood the mage, framed in the faint hint of daylight beyond, blocking it.

The bridge was too narrow to sneak across, not with four blademasters and a dark-magic wielding mage between them and the way out.

“He’s here,” the old mage whispered to the guard on his right. “I feel the old magic. Have them move about. He may be hiding.”

One step ahead of you . But now Legend needed more than a simple distraction, especially if the mage could sense his magic. He dared not lead them to the Gerudo girl, but how to get her past them?

Legend’s eyes lit up with an idea. He fished in his pouch, and grabbed a ring–a magic ring–and slipped it onto her thumb. In the quietest whisper he could manage, he spoke over his shoulder. “Wait until I clear the way, then run through there and follow the sunlight.”

He slid her down, and crouched as he turned to face her, careful to keep the cloak over them both. He swept his sweaty bangs aside to watch her response. She searched his face for more answers. He had none to give. Before she could object, the veteran ducked out of the cape.

He took the first blademaster by surprise, striking his back so hard the man plummeted off the high bridge.

The mage backed away between the far pair of guards as the second blademaster approached. Legend unleashed a spin attack, four strikes, and he dropped the clansman with a lethal strike to his collar.

The mage seethed. “Enough! You have something that does not belong to you! Not unless you stay and learn the way.” He raised a finger, eyes glittering red in the torchlight, cold and hard. “The book is missing half the spell! Only I can teach it.”

Legend lunged with his fire rod and sword. The mage dissipated the flames, while one guard swung his blade, and a sharp wind knocked Legend to the edge of the bridge, and over the bridge. The Mage gasped and rounded on the guard with a furious shout “STOP!”

Empty air gaped below him, but Legend was not called the veteran lightly. He fetched two items at once, kept together for just such an occasion: a feather, and a bulky hookshot. Holding the roc’s feather, he leapt high on the open air as if leaping from flat, solid ground. He jumped again, arcing high once more, his stomach in his ribs, soaring far out of easy reach, and as he dropped he aimed the hookshot at the fourth guard. It burst forward and latched on to the stunned guard’s bicep, and with a sickening jolt they swapped places. The blademaster shouted as he lurched and plummeted, and Legend stood face to face with the mage on the bridge once more.

To his surprise, the last guard toppled over the edge, a sickle appearing, already buried in his side.

The mage spun aside and raised his hands toward the place the weapon had appeared, dark magic gathering around him, acidic and rank with rot. Legend rushed forward and bodily yanked the Mage’s arm, away from what must be the Gerudo girl. With all the force he could muster from his exhausted body, he spun the mage and shoved him off the bridge.

The mage fell, but coils of dark power slowed his descent. Red flashed in his eyes as he glared up at Legend.

Smoke choked the air around him, but Legend reached into the fog to where the girl must have been. Shaking, invisible fingers grasped his. The unseen girl climbed onto his back. Both her and the cape settled over the veteran as he rushed in the direction of the narrow hall as the smoke cleared, bowling over soldiers as they appeared, chasing the faint glow of sunlight.

They streaked into a round room like he’d seen, but instead of doors he saw statues, except one bright alcove. He passed through it in a blur.

Sunlight! Legend chased it outside into the hot desert air, heavy with grit. The sky blinded him, but ran forwards all the same. Soon, shapes appeared through the white haze: reddish canyon cliffs, sparkling sand sloping downward, and a ribbon of pale blue sky.

And those damned puffs of spoke. They appeared atop the cliffs and scattered on the path ahead. Dozens of bows aimed their way, their bodies invisible but their footprints in the sand were not .

The girl screamed as she clawed his shoulders, “Your shield! Surf!”

Oh! Wild had shown them shield surfing before. He’d thought it a waste, seeing how much it damaged Wild’s already flimsy shields, but right now he saw the appeal. The cape gave them cover, powered by the ring, as Legend fumbled in his pouch, rifling through rings and canes and empty glass bottles until at last he felt the smooth, long curve of uncle’s soldier's shield. But their footprints must have given them away, as arrows rained down. He tossed the shield ahead, and with a leap hooked one foot into the strap. The other foot he planted on the back edge, and with the momentum of his run they sped off, rushing down the hot sand, gaining momentum, exhilarating and fresh.

The girl on his back laughed.

They surfed for half a minute before the ring’s magic petered out. Legend stuffed the cape away. He’d have to rely on himself now, on his ability to dodge and weave.

A skill he excelled at.

He quickly found how to move his feet just so to aim his descent, and he charted a breakneck, unpredictable course downward, sometimes lurching left or right, or kicking on the back of the shield to leap over boulders instead of swerving around them, arrows chasing them. The girl clung on and tried to shrink against him, and he mentally apologized for the seasickness she must be feeling.

Red bodysuits and white smoke littered with paper still appeared all around, though Legend dodged them with ease. A squeeze and shout from the child made him worry she’d lost her grip as he took a particularly sharp right curve, but she clawed him tighter than ever and held firmly, and they sped onward.

A dozen pops of white flashed in a cluster less than a hundred yards ahead. Barreling at such a speed, Legend could barely hear the girl’s shout of alarm, but he’d already seen them and angled for one gap before quickly shifting to pass through another while the Yiga scrambled toward the first.

Lithe soldiers appeared once again, much further ahead than the first group and forming a tighter line. Their sickles flashed in the sun. Perhaps they wanted to give him time to slow to a stop, to surrender. Legend smirked and eyed a sloped ridge nearby. It was perfect. He swerved sharply left. It was difficult balancing two people on the shield as he steered, but he’d seen it done once before in a small, snowy canyon. Thanks again, Wild, he thought as he aimed for the stone ramp, grated over the edge, and soared high above the heads of the Yiga. The white masks tracked him as he soared overhead.

Legend’s stomach twisted as he dropped, but he clutched the roc’s feather and gave a shout of triumph as they bounced once in the air halfway down, then again closer to the ground, and finally hit the sand in a spray, mercifully staying upright at the impact and hurtling forwards. They left a cloud of dust in their wake big enough to obscure the assassins. The girl shrieked, and Legend couldn’t tell if it was fear or the thrill.

At last, at long last, The canyon ahead stayed clear. They rode it in tense silence, Legend no longer dodging and weaving, simply feeling the rush of air cool the sweat completely coating him. His rabbit-quick heart finally began to slow down.

They soared onward, riding the solid wave of glittering sand as the canyon curved left and opened onto the vast, sea-like desert.

Legend slowed as it spilled over the flat expanse and leveled out. He stopped just before reaching a path through ruins. A town shimmered into sight through the desert haze, only a few miles away.

Legend jumped off the shield and bent to let the girl down. She slid slowly, and he felt her wobble but seemed to catch her feet. He stared at the distant town and drank. The relatively cool stamina potion felt like heaven in his throat, the heat sapping his strength even as he stood still.

“Is that your home?” he asked between gulps, searching the ruins for signs of monsters or places to rest safely all the while.

“Ye-yes,” the girl whispered. Legend turned as the girl dropped to one knee, her face pale as paper.

Legend cursed. Two arrow fletches peeked over her shoulder, rising and falling with her labored breaths: one in the back of her upper arm and one in her shoulder. Droplets fell and shone like rubies in the sand behind her, swiftly swallowed by the earth.

Din dammit! He should have stopped to give her an extra shield for her back! Or anything to protect herself! He was used to treating wounds on himself, but removing arrowheads on a child? One that already barely trusted him? This was Warrior's area of expertise. He needed help.

“Hey, kid, I’m going to get you some help. You’re going to be okay. Just… just stay awake, okay? You need to tell me if I’m going the right way. Got it?” Goddesses what am I doing? What am I supposed to say?

Legend stowed his shield, downed another magic potion, chiding himself to conserve them better, and carefully lifted her onto his back again.

She cried out, and her arms lay limp now, but he tied the cape around her back, kicked his heels, and ran.

They’d certainly have all she needed in that town ahead, beyond the ruins.

#lu fanfiction #skipwrites #blood and blade #tw canon typical violence #linked universe #lu legend #yiga clan

42 notes · View notes

twstfanblog · 1 year

Text

*~Family Feud~*

AN: This has been done for DAYS I just didn't get a chance to read it over because I dropped two outfit descriptions in this and I wanted to draw them out. Instead, I decided to get this out and stop hoarding it. XD

Also an introduction to one of my Twist OC's I'll do my best to get a proper bio of him and link it at a later date.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Toxic family dynamics, Disregard of adopted family, She/They Yuu OC. My own canon of Silver's backstory mixed with canon.

Pairings: Mallus x Yuu

Enjoy~!

Starter, Part 1(Pomefiore), Part 2 (Heartslabyul), Part 3 (Here)

Diasomnia was strangely desolate, something that Louis wasn't really expecting. He would have thought the dorm would reflect Briar Valley. The times he'd seen the valley, it was full of lush vegetation, life seeming to spill out of every corner. The only place that looked vaguely like these densely packed dead woods was the royal castle of the Draconia’s. But, even then, the castle had a beautiful rose garden. At the thought of the Briar royalty he scowled, his resolve only growing as he stomped through the woods. Eyes roaming through the trees looking for someone.

Louis Durand was the eldest son and crown prince of Ulstead, one of the longest-standing royal families of Twisted Wonderland. Honey-blonde hair and aurora-colored eyes showing his heritage of the Knight of Dawn. His light-plated iron clinked, gold and iron mix giving off a pale sunshine hue, added protection from his basic princely attire. Long hair braided back and pinned with his family’s crest acting as a crown.

Soon he finds someone, his eyes widening before a smile breaks out on his face. He picks up his pace seeing the figure under the tree slowly open his eyes. Silver hair and dressed in a black and green military uniform, Louis couldn’t keep his voice quiet as he ran closer, " Beau!"

Matching aurora eyes snap open at the name. Silver sighs under his breath, not sure if staying asleep would be better or worse in this situation. Instead, he stood up, waiting for the prince to reach him and for the common argument to start.

Malleus walked with Yuu, smiling at the pout on the human's face, "Why are you so upset, my dear? It's a lovely day and I have you all to myself. Why the long face?" In hand was his spinning wheel wand. He didn’t have his pen in such form normally, But while in his dorm uniform, the staff was perfect for the overall look. Plus, it felt good to wear such regal wear with his child of man in their own new dorm uniform of Ramshackle.

Lilia himself was delighted seeing the outfit, saying Yuu looked like a troublesome fairy he had a run-in with long ago. A light tealish green button-up shirt with bluebell-shaped sleeves. A darker grey-teal vest over the shirt, a series of leather belts wrapped around their waist to hold an assortment of things, one of which being a bag of marbles. (For purposes Yuu told the others.) The vest had multiple tail ends, layering into a rough jagged line like the edge of a leaf. Leggings patterned with asymmetrical lines to mirror shattered glass. The look was pulled together with a pair of leather pirate-style boots that folded over their knees and a worn-looking navy captain’s hat, refurbished lightly to match the color of their dorm better.

Malleus himself could see what Lilia meant when Yuu wore their new uniform. Though it was a collaborative design by Divus and Yuu, the final result came out very close to the common fashion of Briar Valley. And with their temper and short stature (Compared to him), Yuu truly reminded him of the trickster fairies of the woods. Oh, the times Malleus had to keep Silver from being led astray by little wings of glitter. At the very least, Yuu gave kisses instead of deceiving the innocent…Well, Yuu does the same but it was normally unlethal. Now looking down at his lover, he smiles, tilting his head at the pouting human. He wonders if he could get away with calling them a pixie. He chuckles, raising an arm to place around their shoulders, “Come, let me hold you.”

Yuu huffs, leaning away from Malleus' arm as he tries to bring them closer. They glare at the tall fae, crossing their arms across their chest, "You know very well I wanted to meet your grandma. And you have the gall to stand there, looking cute, and call me over here after you already sent her home!"

The laugh Malleus let out was loud like thunder, it would almost be threatening if not for the warmth in his smile. He leans down, forehead resting on Yuu's as he looked into their eyes, "Are you truly upset you couldn't meet my grandmother? Or are you upset you haven't been able to embarrass me in front of my maternal figure like you've done your other lovers?"

They scoff, turning around to walk away from Malleus, but didn't try to move when he wrapped his arm around them. Yuu rested against his chest, sighing forlornly as they placed their hand over their forehead, "All I ask is to look into your grandmother and have her look back at me…"

"..." Malleus laughs, standing up and moving Yuu to face him directly, "You know, I may consider introducing you to my grandmother more if you stopped insinuating she is the void."

"Have you ever seen your grandmother and the void in the same room? I haven't." They laugh at Malleus' smile, pulling him down and leaning in to kiss his cheek. Giving him another seeing how the fae beamed under the physical affection.

Their sweet moment was interrupted by shouting, the sound of it getting closer and closer. Sharing a look, Malleus stands back to full height, a hand placed on the middle of Yuu’s back, the two of them walking toward the sounds of arguing.

"-before someone sees us, we should go!"

"Louis, please just go. I'm not having this argument with you again…"

Yuu blinks at the unknown boy trying to pull Silver through the woods, the gray-haired boy digging his heels into the dirt. Silver looked more annoyed than distressed at the manhandling, but, Yuu still pulled her golf club from the back holster Crewel had designed for them, "Hey! The fuck’s going on here?"

Her shout was enough for the both of them to look over in surprise, giving Silver the chance to finally slip out of the mystery boy's hold. The 2nd year was quick to join them, standing just slightly behind Malleus on his side in his normal position as a retainer. For whatever reason it made the boy glare, frowning fiercely at Malleus.

"Still insulting the Ulstead crown with your display, I see. He should be in jewels and celebrated! Not set to the side to be forgotten and overlooked by your people!"

Malleus' mirthful attitude was gone, a bored look on his face as he looked down his nose at the armor-clad boy.

Seeing Malleus wasn’t going to grace the stranger with an answer, Yuu spoke up. Their golf club swinging lazily to tap against their calf, "While I agree Silver is a national treasure, you can't just be grabbing and dragging people around like they owe you money."

The stranger opens his mouth, poised to start yelling at them too before he freezes. Looking at them, his eyes widen in shock, "You're human?"

"Good eyes, now explain yourself-"

"Fair maiden you must come with me at once! This land of fae and fowl isn't safe nor suitable for humans!" He reached out, moving to grab onto Yuu's wrist only to be forced back by a crackle of green lightning.

Yuu was just as surprised, blinking when Silver pulled them farther behind Malleus and missing the prominent anger in the fae's eyes as dark clouds began to gather above them.

Malleus’s eyes seemed to glow the darker the area became, his face a deadly edge of sober as he tilted his head slightly, "You dare try to abscond with my treasures? I would think your family knows a dragon does not give from their hoard so lightly…"

The stranger matched Malleus' expression, taking a step forward before he was interrupted by Silver sighing.

"Louis. Please. Just go home. I've long made my choice and I would like it if you and your family to respect it."

“They’re our family!” Louis' face crumbles, a hand reaching out in a pleading motion toward Silver, " Beau, please just come home with me. We can talk this out with the family and see if you've been cursed like father thinks. If all is well we can go from there."

Yuu casts a confused look toward Silver, raising an eyebrow, "Beau?"

Silver shakes his head, not wanting to explain, missing Malleus locking eyes with Louis. A smug smirk grew on the fae’s face before he spoke.

" I would like it if you left my brother be. He doesn't wish to speak to you."

"He is not your brother you accursed, bastard!"

"Now, now. There's no need for all of this yelling…"

Lilia dropped down from above a few paces away. Instead of his normal dorm uniform, he wore a tight thorn pattern long-sleeve top, the high neckline hidden by a false collar and a bright green tie with a complex-looking knot. Long pants tucked into knee-length lace-up boots. His oversized jacket was replaced with an open-back vest in the dorm colors, long coattails trailing behind him. The look pulled together with his normal dorm accessories, the vest showing off the spiked spine brace the Diasomnia students regularly wear.

His youthful face was strangely in a neutral expression. He looks to Louis, not even flinching at the glare. Turning to him fully, Lilia gives a polite smile, trying to calm the enraged boy, "Prince Louis. I understand the campus is open to all visitors. But, you are aware Silver doesn't wish to speak to you or the other Ulstead royals unless it is at the yearly treaty festival or you’ve called ahead of time."

Louis stomps forward, getting directly in Lilia's face to snarl, "His name is Beau, you thief!"

"Enough!" Silver steps forward, standing beside Lilia and only stopping at the hand gripping his arm, keeping him closer to Lilia, "I will not let you talk to my father like this."

"He isn't your father!" Louis looks to Silver, eyes pleading, "Beau, no matter what they've told you, they're lying to you. They aren't your true family and all we want is for you to come home to us…"

Silver’s face clenches, almost winning in the fight to not grimace. His fists ball up at his sides, turning his head away from Louis as he muttered, “Who I care for isn’t your choice to make…”

Lilia glances at Silver from the corner of his eye. Seeing Silver's anger, he opened his mouth to calm his son, only to have Louis speak before him.

"He won't love you like a real father would. You know that. You'll be dead and gone long before he even has time to care about you."

That was enough to make Silver crumble, the 2nd year hunching into himself hoping to hide away from the other's hurtful words.

The sound of thunder and lightning was deafening. The dark clouds overhead that had eclipsed the sun were almost meaningless as a single bolt of lightning illuminated the grounds, striking dangerously close to the group. Both of which were ignored by Lilia, scooping Silver into his arms.

Placing the taller boy onto his hip and supporting his legs while glaring at the human prince, "If you'll excuse us, my son seems to be under the weather. I'm going to get him inside to rest."

Lilia doesn't look back, walking away like Silver weighed less than nothing in his hold. Even with his confused expression, Silver soon relaxed, properly latching onto his father and resting his head against the top of Lilia's hair.

Yuu looks over to Louis, frowning at the other human's intense glare at the retreating figures, "You know, as a fellow human? That was extremely fucked up, you know that, right? Like severely fucked."

"I quite agree with my child of man." Malleus' face was stone cold, his tinted lips curling over a fang as he snarled, "It was fucked."

“What’s fucked,” Louis somehow made the vitriol in his voice even harsher, eyes glaring into Malleus’ cold green iris, “Is stealing a prince and making him a guard to the enemy of his nation.”

Malleus leans in, a small smile showing his fangs as he spoke in a soft mocking tone, “He wasn’t stolen by fae hands. Nor are we enemies, the treaty was signed nearly 20 years ago Prince Durand.” His smile drops, voice almost a growl, “You’d do well to remember that.”

Louis’ hand reached toward his sword, managing to draw it out only a few inches before a force slammed into the hilt of the blade, forcing it back into the sheath. The head of a golf club resting on top of the rounded metal of the weapon, Yuu’s dark eyes glaring into his own morning dews, the silent promise clear in their actions. He huffed, his glare only barely softening as he addressed Yuu, “Stand down, maiden. I don’t know why you’ve allied yourself with this fae, but he is not to be trusted.”

“With all disrespect? What I do with the future father of my child is none of your business.”

Malleus’ magic forms around Yuu faster than she could swing and faster than Louis could grab her. The green aura glittered around her, lifting Yuu into the air and away from the human’s out-reaching hand. Louis glared at the prince, his hand clenching into the open air.

Louis closes his eyes, trying to calm his breathing before looking up at Yuu, “You…Miss, you can’t be serious! The Draconia family is founded on the wicked deeds of the Thorn Fairy herself! To be a human and want to continue that line-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Yuu was now lounging in the air, golf club resting over their crossed legs, “I’m going to do my best to be…polite with my reasonings. I don’t care, I just don’t care. I like Malleus, so I find no issue in doing him this kindness as his close platonic-romantic friend-soulmate. The choices I made to carry the potential apocalypse baby are just that. My choices. Just like Silver apparently chose to be Silver instead of Beau. Learn to live with it. Cope, seethe even. But don’t make it our problem when clearly you’re the only one bothered.”

The expression on Louis’ face was odd. A strange mixture of anger yet heartbreak, the type of look that spoke of internal struggle. Yuu almost had enough time to feel bad, opening their mouth to give some kind of comfort, before the human royal’s face steels.

Louis stepped back, rolling his shoulders into the proper position and looking into Malleus’ eyes with a neutral expression, “Apologies for my outburst Prince Draconia. I will take what you said into consideration. Good day to you and your…” His face fights against the sneer he wants to pull, “Consort…Good day.” With that, he spins in his iron-plated heel, stomping his way back toward the dorm’s mirror.

“...” Yuu turns to Malleus, still floating in the air, “Put me down.” Malleus raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t take his eyes off of Louis until he was well in the distance, “Why…?” “I’m gonna beat his ass.”

A smile breaks across his face, looking out from the corner of his eye to see the glare on the prefect. Yuu never failed to entertain, always having a gesture or words that would pull him from sour moods and episodes of sorrow. Be it a physical reminder of their friendship or a verbal assurance of their shared devotions, Yuu always made him smile, even when he didn’t want to.

Malleus shakes his head, “No. You have no need to engage in combat with the likes of him. You are my consort after all.” He starts to walk toward the dorm, keeping Yuu suspended in the air with his magic. In their current mood, they were more likely to ignore his words and chase the prince down than listen. His thoughts reminded him of Silver and Lilia’s emotional states, the urge to check on them growing once Louis’ presence was fully gone.

“Oh, is that gonna be your new favorite word? Because you’re gonna make Jamil and Azul jealous. They can only call me ‘girlfriend’ for now.”

“I suppose they can cope then. Seethe even.”

“Stop stealing my words! You make it sound so much fancier when you say it.”

Malleus chuckles, bringing Yuu closer to place another kiss against their cheek, “Cope.”

Diasomnia’s dorm was massive, scary, and regal. It was also peacefully quiet when Malleus and Yuu walked inside. The families that were chatting away in the common area had all vacated, leaving the room bare except for Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. The pearly-haired human was sleeping, head resting on Lilia’s lap while the short fae caressed his hair.

Walking to the couch, Yuu sat beside Lilia, Malleus taking the armchair that Sebek instantly jumped up to stand beside.

"So I have to ask, why the outfit change?"

Giggling, Lilia turned to look at Yuu, a sneaky smile on his face, "While I normally, as you say 'serve cunt', I decided to change into something semi-respectable since I knew visitors of the valley were coming." He gestures mildly to his new outfit, "As such I picked something that echoes my old war armor."

“Well you failed, you’re still serving cunt, good sir. But next question…Who was his royal dick?” Yuu asks, their voice hushed even though they knew Silver wasn’t going to wake up with anything less than Sebek screaming in his face.

Lilia sighs, “Prince Louis Durand. Crown prince of Ulstead and…” He sighs again, the force of it almost fully deflating him, “And Silver’s twin.”

“He has one of those?”

Sebek scoffs, rolling his eyes but refusing to say anything. He grew up dealing with the human prince’s numerous visits. Louis would do everything he could to exclude Sebek, but Silver was just as vigilant in making sure he was involved. Once, Silver held onto Sebek’s hand and refused to let go for the whole visit. It took both Baul and Lilia to pull them apart once Louis had left, Silver claiming he couldn’t unclench his hand.

“Yes…It’s a long story, but by fae laws Silver is mine and his blood family isn’t too happy about it.”

Yuu tilted their head, “I wouldn’t be either, this is extremely suspicious. Lilia, you said you found Silver on the ground.”

“I-” Lilia realizes what Yuu was insinuating, snapping his face up to pout at the prefect, “I did.”

“Lilia, how do you find a baby prince on a random forest floor?”

The pink-haired fae huffs, arms wrapping tighter around Silver’s sleeping form, “Well, I did! Believe me or not, I found him fair and square. He even picked me over them so they have no right to complain…”

Yuu smiled, always loving to pick at Lilia when the older fae would get annoyed with her, “Your story is falling apart. Did the baby pick you or did you find him, Lilia? What is it you want me to believe?”

Lilia was fast, a hand reaching out and pinching Yuu’s ear to tug on it. He hisses out a shush while she squirms in his hold, “Hush, let me tell you what happened…”

Silver was led to the palace throne room, his small hand gripping onto Sir Baul's as the old fae stared ahead. He was stern as usual when he came to collect him, but the look he had when he called Silver made his stomach twist. Sebek had gone quiet again, only waving goodbye as Baul led him from the room. He didn't know what was happening as the double doors of the throne room opened. On one side of the room stood his father and on the other side stood a group of strangers wearing the same colors as the people who stormed their home.

Days ago, he and his father had to flee to the palace when a group of human knights broke down their door in the middle of the night. Silver had never felt such terror, watching his father fight off a squad of intruders before scooping him into his arms. He had jumped from the bedroom window, Silver only in his pajamas and Lilia still smelling of burning flesh from iron as he sprinted into the woods.

They reached the palace, a number of fae knights riding into the woods at his father's report. He wasn't proud of it, but he cried when he had to leave his father's arms. The short fae smiled and teased him, saying he was only getting bandaged and to not be so silly. He was sulking about later in his brother's Malleus’ arms. He was six years old, he shouldn't be crying as such anymore.

Over the next few days, Silver was with Malleus for most of the day. Sebek joined them and was oddly soft-spoken, the younger boy looking at him pained and heartbroken but wouldn't tell him why. He would hear voices echoing in shouts in the halls, unknown knights staring at him. Their eyes made him nervous before Malleus whisked him away. But now, in the throne room, Malleus was standing beside the queen, looking upset and refusing to meet his eyes. Even father wouldn’t look at him, only the glamourously dressed family standing on the other side of the room would look toward him.

Her Majesty spoke, her voice an odd mix of cold yet cordial, “Silver-”

The unknown woman, who Silver now realized also had a crown in her braided warm brown hair, snapped. Her soft smile turned into a vicious frown as she rounded to the Queen, “His name is Beau.”

Her Majesty simply sighed, just barely keeping from rolling her eyes, a hand held up to calm the guards and Malleus, “Child. You are being offered a choice on this day. It is your choice alone if you return home with either Lilia Vanrouge or the royal family of Ulstead, the Durands. Make your decision judicially, you will not gain another.”

…

Silver looked over to the strangers. Whatever anger the woman had felt was gone, leaving behind a kind person who reached out to him before pulling her hand back to her chest. Looking at them closely, he fully saw just how lavish their clothing was, soft and bright colors unfound in the valley since so many made their living working with nature or potions (It’d get dirty so quickly). Delicate light fabrics with sewn-in gems and woven gold threads. They looked at him with such hope. Around them, guards of that knight stood showing chests of gold shiny board swords and armor. A boy who looked so similar yet different from him smiled, a stuffed bear held tightly in his arms.

He waved, bowing his head in a show of respect for the visiting royalty, but the beaming grins they gave back to him didn’t ease the discomfort he felt. He was sure the woman was one second away from rushing over to him and taking him in her arms, never to be seen again.

To the other side was his father. Standing silently and still, so unlike himself it made Silver more uncomfortable than the overly friendly strangers. Father stood in just the cloak he had on when they absconded to the palace, the black cloth hiding his body and long hair tied into a low ponytail. He wouldn’t look at him, he wasn’t even smiling. Silver had never seen his father so…impartial. It was frightening, but it only cemented the fact Lilia was his father.

Looking the fae over, Silver’s mind brought to light just how much he knew about his father. He knew the exact cloak he had managed to grab. A flash of yellowish-green peaking from the hood. The fruits of his and Sebek’s sewing lesson from weeks ago. Silver knew in that hood was a crudely stitched-in bat (From when he was in the war his father told him, to keep others from stealing his cloak), a simple bright green oval, a chartreuse blob to mimic a crocodile, and a simple ivory-colored smaller bat. Father always stated it was his lucky cloak.

Though he tried to hide it, Silver knew his father’s hair was streaked with blocks of white strands. They were debating on which color he was going to dye it next. Silver was so close to convincing him to try orange, he knew it’d look ridiculous, but his father would do it if he could persuade him properly.

And the final secret Silver could easily see was how his father fidgeted with the bracelet he had gifted him. It was something of a nervous tick, the fae would at times look into the distance and simply tape his sharp nails against the seeds. Sometimes Silver worried he would break the charm one day, only to watch the same worry overtake his father would he seemingly tapped too hard.

He wasn’t sure of the severity of this decision, but he had his options and his choice was clear.

Silver squared his shoulders, keeping his eyes trained on his father as he walked towards him. His stride only stops when the woman gives a heartbroken cry of ‘Beau’. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the strange family crumbled, tears gathering in their eyes. The woman all but falls to the floor, being held up by her husband who looks at him in disapproval. The boy’s expression hurts, it’s pleading, heartbroken. Silver strangely felt for him the most, but he couldn’t leave his father to his lonesome.

Before long Silver was standing right in front of Lilia, bright aurora-colored eyes trying to catch glittering magenta ones. Lilia laughs, short and almost damp. He finally looks at Silver, expression pained as he fights back his tears, “You wish to go with me?”

Silver nods, not a moment of hesitation, “I’m ready to go home now father.”

Lilia doesn’t hesitate either. Scooping Silver into his arms, tucking his son’s face into his neck and walking from the chamber at a quick pace. Silver hears chaos engulf the room, the woman from before starting to scream in anger and Her Majesty raising her voice to demand she calms herself. Silver looks up from his father’s collar, catching hauntingly similar aurora eyes before the doors close behind them.

“Of course the Durands never let it rest. Maleficia was honest with them…” Lilia sighed, looking down at a sleeping Silver, “Silver doesn’t count as ‘Stolen by Fae’. As such there was no trade, so no proper test could be given and Silver was left to pick where he went.”

“Did they not…think he would pick you? I mean you were his dad for his whole life…”

Malleus sighed from his chair, eyes gazing into the green fireplace, he hint of annoyance curling his lip, “My grandmother warned them of that likelihood. But they were insistent on Silver knowing he’d want to be with ‘his blood’...” Malleus wouldn’t speak of the shouting match that broke out when Lilia fled the room with Silver. But, he was just as smug when his grandmother smiled and explained to the wailing queen that Silver had made his choice.

“The silly boy really just walked up to me with no doubt in his heart. But, from there, the Durand family was calling at our home near weekly.” Lilia sighs, remembering the string of panic attacks he’d gain waking up to iron-clad knights banging on his cottage's front door. The number of letters he’d start to just burn in the fireplace, each one detailing and painting him as a wicked being for stealing a vulnerable infant from his loving home.

Yuu scoffed, leaning back into the couch, “What? So they just show up every few days to bother you guys and shout that you’re not a real family?”

“Not nearly as much as before. But basically.” Sebek sighed, shaking his head in mild irritation, “The king and queen have stopped coming so often, only at the yearly Peace Treaty celebration held at our borders.”

“They stopped visiting around Silver’s 10th birthday…Louis still spends his summers camped out in the woods with his posse.” Malleus pouts, the windows darkening as his mood briefly soured, muttering under his breath, “They keep sending him gifts heavy in iron though…”

Lilia caresses Silver’s head, smiling at his serene face, “Louis always tried so hard to be by Silver the first few visits. He was more docile when beside him, but when anyone tried to detach them, he’d throw such tantrums.”

Malleus looked to Lilia, eyes lidded in annoyance, “Tanturms. Lilia, he stabbed you when you tried to wipe Silver’s face.”

Lilia waves Malleus’s words off, ignoring Yuu’s surprised laughter, “It didn’t even draw blood. Barely counts as a stab.”

Lilia would never lie, but he never told the whole truth either. He never told Maleficia the truth the night he brought a human baby for her blessing and he thinks he never will. He didn’t lie, he never stole Silver. But, he never told anyone the whole story.

He met the Knight of Dawn the night Maleaonor died, the knight had saved both his and Malleus’ lives. They barely spoke, eyes meeting before the knight turned around. He told him and Baul to run, that he’d deal with whoever entered the tunnel after them.

It’s embarrassing, Lilia thinks to himself sometimes. The fact that simple action was enough to make his heart flutter, in the moment he attributed it to his adrenaline. But he still blushed and whispered under his breath a basic blessing as a thank you.

Lilia thinks he’s cursed to take care of the children of those he loves. He cared about Maleficia for taking him in and then he became Maleanor’s keeper. He loved Maleanor and Revan, Malleus was more his mother’s son than his father’s he’s realizing. And only once his heart fluttered and now he’s staring down at a sobbing infant.

He wasn’t sure why he walked to this old place, taken over by the people who killed his friend and orphaned his charge. But a part of him was happy he did. Two children in a basic bassinet, one sleeping peacefully while the other wailed. How his sibling didn’t wake up worried Lilia, but he decided to tend to the screaming one first.

One blessing later, the baby’s golden hair turned Silver. At least whoever took care of them would be able to tell them apart now. Soon he pulled away from the bassinet, leaving the awake infant to start crying again. It pained him to leave the poor dears, but they were human and he was a fae. He couldn’t look after them properly. So he’d drop a hint to the Human kingdom, something about hearing the sounds of a crying baby in the abandoned ‘First Castle’.

It was easy to connect the dots when the neighboring kingdom spoke of the joyous event of the queen birthing two twin boys. Lilia was fine with that, those boys deserved a happy home full of love and care. One he could not give, not since his own efforts took so long to even hatch Malleus. A human child can’t live as long as it takes for him to muster enough love for a child to be raised on.

But only a week later, walking through the woods in his late-night musings, he hears a familiar cry. In the silver band of moonlight, he finds that same infant crying nestled in the roots of a dying tree. The basic nightgown was gone, the baby simply wrapped in a blanket, though surprisingly a thin gold chain with a familiar golden ring. Lilia so badly wanted to turn and walk away, maybe leave another tip to the humans they seemed to be missing a whole baby.

Instead, the infant cried, tiny pudgy hands reaching out to him for comfort. He really had gotten weak in his old age. Sweeping the baby into his arms he hummed the lullaby he’s been singing for centuries. And as the baby slept in his arms he smiled, walking back to his cottage, “Guess I will be taking care of you after all, aren’t I little one?”

Lilia didn’t take this child. He never even lifted him from that bassinet when he found both of them. This wasn’t kidnapping nor an act of theft. He was simply taking in a child he found in the woods and that’s all anyone had to know.

“Hmm…You need a name…Silver, Like a moonbeam in the dark…” He laughed, pressing a kiss to the soft strands, “And for your hair!”

Lilia wouldn’t tell the whole story, but he didn’t lie. He found Silver in the forest and he was his son.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #mallyuu #malleus x yuu #malleus x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia #silver vanrouge #twst silver #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #twist oc #diasomnia

149 notes · View notes