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rouecentric · 2 years

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May I request gen hc with the agriche family with darling isekai'd from our world so she know roxanna actually is the same situation as her maybe with romantic cassis pedelian?

!!SPOILERS FOR THE NOVEL!!

a/n: you absolutely can! Enjoy reading this post! :)

for some reason let's say you were a successful murder mystery/detective writer, so that's why you know a lot about weapons, poison, etc. I'm also aging up cassis and roxana, because ain't no way am i accepting the fact that she's 16 and cassis' 17 at the start.

oh you poor, unfortunate soul. How the hell did you get into this mess of a family?

-Waking up in a baby's body is confusing, and even more when you see Lant Agriche, a fictional character from the manhwa and novel called "How to Protect the Heroine's Older Brother", the father of the main character

-At first, you assumed it was a dream, and just went along with it as if it was a roleplay. But then the next day, you woke up still in the same body, so then you decided to wait until you could do the bare minimum, and wait you did

-after a few excruciating years, you were old enough to walk, talk, and handle yourself at six years old, but, surprisingly enough, you were one of Lant’s eldest children in the family and in the future, oldest daughter of the Black Agriche, and from you getting unexpectedly isekai'd into a manhwa, you were gifted with future vision, meaning you could see into the future whenever you wanted, which was a huge advantage

-So, as a daughter of a wealthy and mighty man, you, as well as your siblings, had a pretty big allowance, but still rather small, indicating that the children should work hard enough and the head might raise your monthly allowance

-And as a successful writer who writes dark things, you decided to buy two lockable diaries and a pen to write down everything you knew and ideas that could benefit you, but your main goal was to just save Ashil from dying and help Roxanna from the shadows before Jeremy remakes the Black Agriche and becomes the next head after Lant gets assasinated

-One of your ideas was rather simple, yet good. Starting a business and investing into other businesses. You decided for the business to start off as a simple store for ladies, full of earrings, rings, necklaces to fans, parasols, gloves and handkerchiefs

-When you proposed the idea to Lant, he was curious to see how the business would go, so he decided to fund your business idea, giving you a building in the capital to sell such things, and when the store opened, it was an instant hit! Noble ladies loved the designs of the things in the store so much, it even started a new trend for the entire year!

-Although your monthly allowance was raised more and you had some of your independant income source, you decided that you should start other projects once every year, as doing just business to benefit the Black Agriche was just not enough to pass by with, deciding to get personal trainers for various kinds of weaponry you used to write about in your books, from various hand-to-hand weapons to long-range weaponry such as daggers, swords, spears, and even gauntlets to bow and arrows, whips and crossbows, of course, you also learned a thing that didn't exist at first, magic

-You, of course, didn't need a tutor to learn about various poisons, because well, you were a professional writer back in your world, having to read about poisons and their side effects, as well as how much you need to give it to the victim and how it kills the victim as well as the antidote of the poisons

-So, with your weaponry training in the mornings, your business management papers being finished right before the clock hits 2 pm, you had rest of the day off, as you finished your classes a year before, as you requested your father to give you more classes for the entire entire two years so you could peacefully take the initiative for future projects without any hindraces like classes

-And when you had rest of the time off, you always either resided in your room, the library, or the gardens, but in every single one of the places you were in, you always met Ashil

right, i almost forgot to explain how you met.

-You met Ashil a year ago, accidentally stumbling upon him in the library. To be honest, he was sweet and sensitive, reminding you of a puppy multiple times, it's rather fun teasing him as he rather easily gets flustered

-He was too soft, but that's alright, you already were ready on risking your ranking and life for him to live, not like he had any other choice but to live now that you're here

-And by befriending Ashil, You were bound to meet one of your step-mothers and half-sister, Sierra Agriche and Roxana Agriche

-For them to be shocked that Ashil befriended another Agriche was shocking, but for it to be the second-highest ranking child and oldest daughter? Sierra was apalled, while Roxana was was neutral about it, but inside, she was excited

-You see, you existing in the manhwa wasn't supposed to happen, and now you created an alternate universe just by getting isekai'd. Your very existence in the manhwa made you materialise into an alternate world of Roxana's, appearing as another side character in the novel, a beloved second-highest ranked child of the Black Agriche and a successful businesswoman who subtly helped Sylvia at the start, but fully broke her out at the end with your gift, future vision, and ultimately became Sylvia's right hand man once she escaped and became the next head of the Pedelians

-In short words, Roxana was your number one fangirl and wholeheartedly supported the plot twist and shipped you with Sylvia

-You easily got along with Sierra's family, as you were easily one of the sanest people in the family, going as far as to call Sierra "mom", she definitely cried while hugging you out of joy

-Unfortunately, you had to do something, not just hang out with Sierra's family, manage the store, and take your lessons, and so you decided to start another project, and this time without Lant's knowledge about it being one. Well, you know about Roxana's future poisonous butterflies, so why not hatch the carnivorous and Hallucinogenic poisonous kinds of beautiful butterflies as a long-term project? You already knew the location of where to get the butterfly eggs, you just need to bring them back into your own poisonous greenhouse and successfully hatch them

-Oh, right! Did I mention that your own independant income is enough for you to get construction workers to build you your own greenhouse?

-And now with a long-term project in motion while having some other things to do every day, you were practically set for the next couple of years! Well, kind of..

-The next year, you had a huge project on your mind, There will be a underrated seamstress that will get famous in the next couple of years for their designs and talent with sewing clothes, and you wanted to collaborate with her for a boutique in the capital, with your father fully funding it again, as the last one became a hit and even expanded into other cities!

-You already had your designs which were blatantly taken from the outfits you saw in other isekai manhwa's, and you didn't regret it one bit, come on! Cayena's, Rezef's and Raffaelo's clothes are amazing!

-And when the boutique was open in the capital, as usual, it became popular, but thankfully, some designs weren't sold as you wanted the most iconic outfits that you stoledesigned. Unfortunately, you were deemed a genius and immensly talented lady by your business partners, which Lant agreed with

-Life was rather swell after that! Well, would be if you would ignore Roxana's abrupt rise in being practically obsessed and worshippy with you, constantly praising for every decision and achievement you made to her mother and brother, but Sierra brushed it away, seeing it as just simple admiration for her older half-sister and even encourages it, unfortunately, Sierra and Ashil would fall head first into the abyss that is called obsession

-And so, a couple of years passed by, and the dear fl was twelve, you as well as Ashil and Sierra celebrated her birthday cheerfully, but this was the year when Ashil gets killed by Dion in front of Sierra and Roxana, leaving the two traumatised, one hiding their PTSD while the other was too weak, never being the same person again

-And as the older half-sister of Ashil, it was your duty to explain and help him prepare as much as possible for his monthly examinations, as you were a year older than him

-Thankfully, your poisonous butterflies hatched without a problem last month, feeding them the corpses of dead staff and the toys your siblings had, sending a few of them to spy on Ashil to keep him safe for as long as possible

-Unfortunately, Ashil failed one of the monthly examinations, maybe Ashil truly was meant to die?

Ashil was truly in a pathetic state for an Agriche, barely standing while desperately trying to block the ongoing attacks that were from Dion, his own blood staining his pale face and staggering from the blood loss, but just before the black-haired boy could do anything to strike a fatal blow to kill the bloodied blond - a swarm of blurred red blobs appeared, frantically speeding to be in front of the blond teenager, before disappearing to show the face of the person who stood in front of Ashil, and the owner of the red butterflies.

There was you, standing in all of your glory, crossing your arms while looking at Dion with an aggravated expression in your dark blue, over the shoulder dress that you talked about to Sierra.

"Now, what is with this fuss all about?" You questioned, staring straight at the dark-haired teenager in frustration as he fumbled to quickly kneel down, not even daring to look back at you.

"Ashil failed the monthly examination, father commanded me to dispose of him." the kneeling boy explained, slightly shaking.

You sighed, shaking your head, "Then report back to him saying that it won't be possible to dispose of him, and tell him that this piece of advice is from me; rather disposing, disown him and give him to me, I do need a personal butler because of father taking a bit too long with assigning me my own staff after the incident, or else he might not be able to benefit from more things in the future," you kneeled in front of him, holding his face to make him look straight at you, red butterflies swarming around the both of you.

"you'll do that for your dearest older sister, right?" you inquired, smiling at his wide-eyed expression, subconciously bringing back the butterflies and standing up, releasing Dion's face from your grasp, watching him run outside from the bedroom, assumingly going back to Lant's office.

you turned back to the others, apathetically staring at the bleeding teenager on the floor.

"You should bring him to the infirmary as soon as possible, he could most likely get an infection if he doesn't go there soon." you recommened, leaving the bedroom yourself to go to your own, as somewhat of a lot of energy was taken from you just by summoning and bringing back the butterflies on command.

-Your first meeting with Dion was actually really long ago, right when he was just a beginner in his classes

-As he was younger than you, you naturally felt pulled towards him, always meeting up with him in either your room or the library, never failing to bring him treats

-Of course, being just nice to him wasn't your entire plan, subtly molding him into how you wanted him to act with you by words of affirmation, indirect orders disguised as simple minor requests, such as bringing you your book you "forgot" and getting you alstroemeria, a flower that meant devotion and friendship that was being raised in the garden

-And from small requests they grew into chores, and from chores into orders, but won't he do it for his dear sister and only genuine friend?

-every single refusal, failure to do it, or just a simple "later" caused you to fake being sad and looking like a kicked puppy, apologising to Dion for having to waste his precious time with such an insignificant task, which he would always desperately ramble apologies out with a wide-eyed and teary expression while hugging you

-When Lant was informed of your actions, advice and fact that you now had carnivorous and hallucigenic butterflies, he was bewildered! Who would've known that you'd go and defy his orders about killing Ashil, raise rare yet dangerous butterflies, and give him a disguised threat turned into advice!

-the feeling of bewilderment soon after changed into pride, of course you were able to do this! You're his oldest daughter and secretly most favored child! so, without any fights or complaints from him, he disowned Ashil and gave him away to you, him becoming less of a personal butler, but more of a doll you'd take care of

-Sierra and Roxana were immensly thankful, with Sierra standing in front of your doorstep waiting for you to let her in, and when you did, she tightly clung to you by your waist as she slid down onto her knees, crying while rambling on "thank you's" for saving Ashil with Roxana standing behind her mother, trying to console her

-Ashil was the most thankful out of the three of them, seeing you as his savior and a godess-like person, made to be worshipped and cared for without any complaints

-When Jeremy and Roxana became rather close, he was always curious of you, hearing a lot from everyone in the house, even from the staff and teachers!

-Roxana was happy to tell him everything about you and how you're like, portraying you as an angel sent from the heavens, blessing this hell-hole of a family with your kindness

-His positive opinion about you strengthened extremely more when he met you for the first time in the gardens, with you in a gazebo lazing around and drinking tea with a biscuit in hand

-Of course, he approached you and kindly introduced himself, making small talk with you about the current trends in society and some rumors that were spread about other families, then he simply asked if the biscuits were tasty, with you just simply feeding him a biscuit without warning, smiling at his starstruck expression

-Yeah, you were definitely an angel sent from heaven

-Your meeting with Maria wasn't much, as you wanted to escort Sierra to the tea party Maria invited her to participate in, knowing full well that Sierra can't handle that well Maria's "doll's"

-Well, Maria was always happy to accept another guest that is close to Sierra, and her step-daughter at that!

-Maria is rather overbearing, but so is Sierra, Roxana and Jeremy, so you were used to people acting like that

-You and Grizelda haven't met that much, but you and her always shared pleasantries and initiated small talk whenever you met, becoming close acquaintances

-Charlotte admires and wants to be just like you, so she would always go to you for advice to see what you would do if you were in her shoes, but whenever someone talks bad about you? They become Charlotte's toy for her to torture

-Fontaine doesn't have much of an opinion on you, as he simply admires your achievements

-fast forward towards when Cassis is kidnapped, you immediately requested father for the Pedelian to become your toy, causing everyone in the room to go quiet while Cassis immediately started staring at you, anticipating the head's answer

-In the past, you never had any pets, not like you even wanted them, the only thing that came extremely close was Ashil, but he was originally meant to be disposed of if it weren't for you stopping Dion, so, Lant agreed, happy to see that you were becoming more like him day after day

-Cassis was cautious from the start, and his anxiety was higher now that you, the oldest daughter of the Agriche family, wanted him as a pet

-He really was suspicious of your instant personal announcement that you would help him getting out of here when you two were alone in his cell, but the fact you kept on bringing him fresh and warm food alongside medicine and changing his bandages from time to time, he eventually fell for you

-And when he realised it? He was stunned and in denial! He wasn't supposed to fall for his family's enemy! But you were just so.. nice and friendly towards him! You complimented and somewhat even babied him almost every day!

-Cassis was now sure he wants to bring you back home with him as his fiance, but you knew that it wouldn't be possible for now, and when he tried to convince you to go with him back to the Pedelian family? You had to remind him of what kind of people your family and you are, telling him everything you've done just to survive, and telling him to "just go, you'll most likely see me again in the future if you hurry up and leave."

-He promises to bring you back and marry him, even if he has to break you or kill everything around him

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hunnybunnyburrows · 2 months

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Seeing everyone talk about their lamb oc got me wanting to do the same

Say hello to Vera! Leader and keeper of the small cult village of Ovine!

(reference drawn by the beautiful and amazing @dragonsaltartales )

More about her under the break!

Vera went through a lot in her first 20 years of life before finally being found and put to the blade that placed the story into motion.

At first she was willing to do anything for The One Who Waits, especially if it meant she'd be able to avenge her fallen brethren, her mother, and her own life that the bishops found worth slaying mercilessly. However, when she met who would become her first follower, rescued from the hands of Leshy's zealot followers eager to sacrifice them, a great deal of her anger and hatred left her. All she saw was herself, her mother, and her kind in the sad cowering rabbit before her. From that point on she does all she can to be as kind and compassionate of a leader as she could be.

She's beloved by her following for her gentle hand, sweet voice, and merciful spirit. She isn't stupid or blind though, and punishes trouble makers as they should be. If she can bring peace within her own flock without bloodshed she will do it. (She's only ever been driven to kill a follower in broad day light once. An act she has zero regret over)

Despite how beloved she is none of her following know her name, save for a very select few. (Narinder, a very specific spouse, and her disciples). She is commonly addressed as "My Lady", "Beloved Lamb", or "Her/My Grace". No one knows why she keeps her name to herself.

Living on the lamb (heh) with her mother the first two decades of her life meant she knew a great deal about gathering herbs, crops, making necessities with her own hands, and crafting medicine. Even after achieving godhood, she still does many things by hand.

While crusading Vera enjoys using Daggers and swords, with the heaviest weapons she'd use being the axe or gauntlets. It was her speed and dexterity that kept her alive for so long before being caught, and it's what she still uses to her advantage. She also adores the wide variety of spells she now has on hand.

She always wears a bell on her person in some shape or form, but she most commonly uses the bell and it's ribbon as a hair tie, keeping her long locks neat and out of the way. It's her most prized possession, as it once belonged to her mother. When she was caught she had lost it, but after being brought back by The One Who Waits, he returned it to her as a gift of good faith. She fell head over heels then and there.

And there she is!!! My girl!!!! I love her so much!!!!

Hope you enjoyed show and tell!! Will I do more with her? Maybe...I want to but it honestly took a lot of gathering up nerve to share this ksdfbvjnfd I want to though!!! So bad!!! So maybe!!!

Thank you all for reading!!! Have a good one!!

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl lamb #cotl oc #I really hope you guys like her!!#This was honestly a lot of fun to do #Maybe I will try doing more with my CoTL brain rot

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happilychee · 6 months

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knight!erza and swordsmith!reader pt. 1

god I love erza so much

♡ when you were just an orphaned brat, you apprenticed at a forge in a rundown village. the old geezer who took you in, makarov dreyar, was a kind old man, but the real problem for you was his grandson: laxus. he took every opportunity to tease and torment you throughout your childhood. the only time the two of you could get along was at the forge. hammering away at raw metal, cooling hot swords, or sharpening new blades, that was the only time your arguing was replaced by the racket of a swordsmith's shop.

♡ you spent your childhood and adolescence learning the secrets of the trade and the dreyar family's special techniques. you grew into a fine young swordsmith, but you knew that this shop wasn't yours to keep. the moment you turned of age, you packed your bags and bid a tearful goodbye to the people you considered family: the man you called grandfather and (though neither of you would ever admit it) the idiot you thought of as your older brother.

♡ you travel for a while, doing odd jobs likened to a blacksmith's profession to make some coin. it's when you reach the bustling trade town of magnolia that you feel you've found your place. a ramshackle stand set up in a corner of the bustling magnolia market, a hot fire in your forge, and a roaring spirit are what it takes to set you on your path.

♡ you're a damn good swordsmith, and soon all of magnolia knows it. it's not long before your name is whispered throughout the entire kingdom. you receive commissions from all sorts of types. you've made beautiful bangles that twist into whips for a drunkard fortune teller; you've made a necklace that disguises spirit keys as charms for a hooded blonde woman; you've made twin daggers that can conceal themselves as earrings for the princess herself! your work is always well-made, created with the highest quality of materials, and it doesn't come at a low price.

♡ you think it's a day like any other. your biceps strain as you carry a new anvil into the back of the shop. your orders won't make themselves, so you get to work right away. between casting iron for gauntlets and hammering down on a new blade, you're quickly covered by a layer of soot. your skin shines with sweat, and you're about to yell at whoever dares to disrupt your work, but your words die in your throat. standing before you is a knight, covered from head to toe in armor. that's not an unusual sight in a place as well-connected as magnolia, but what catches your eye is the vibrant color of the knight's armor.

♡ "you're the scarlet knight." you breathe out, shoving aside scrap metal as you set down your hammer. "I am in need of a new sword." the knight speaks. you can't tell if they're a man or a woman or neither by their muffled voice, but you can tell that they're powerful. "what kind?" "any." you huff at their short response. it's an ongoing argument between swordsmiths everywhere: does the sword choose the swordsman, or the swordsman choose the sword? you think it's the latter. "will you be able to fight with any sword I make?" you raise an eyebrow. "if it's good enough." the knight answers. you can feel your blood boil, and you can almost imagine the smirk on their face. "you wanna bet, knight?"

♡ you don't sleep for the next week. you barely eat or drink, too focused on creating the best sword you've ever made. it's slightly longer than you'd usually make, but the scarlet knight was taller than the average man. the blade itself is a shining silver, but you know it won't stay that way for long. hopefully. the hilt is engraved with swirling dragons, their eyes inlaid with red gemstones. the hilt also has red and black stones that create a beautiful floral pattern in filigree. you don't think you'll ever make a sword as beautiful as this one.

♡ the scarlet knight seems to know exactly when you finish the sword. the embers are burning low in your forge, calming down as the evening draws in, and the knight is leaning against your doorframe again. you lift the sword out of a basin of water, the metal shining in the moonlight. "you don't waste a second, do you? here." you grin as the knight takes the sword, the blade turning a deep red. "what do you think?" your voice is nothing short of cheeky. the scarlet knight says nothing, staring at you through their visor. "...good."

♡ you don't see the knight for a long time after that, though you don't mind, with the amount of coin they gave you for the sword. you almost forget about them, until they return with a different sword, asking for a repair. "you have multiple swords?" you raise an eyebrow as you enter the back of your shop. "sit, this won't take long." you manage to weasel a few stories from the scarlet knight as you work, and you find that they're quite an interesting figure. you offer a few stories of your own in exchange, and you can't say you're not pleased when you hear them chuckle. the scarlet knight returns quite often after that, always with some weapon or other that needs adjustments. you learn more and more about them, relishing in each second you hear their alluring voice. the knight never takes off their helmet, but you don't ask about it. everyone has their secrets to keep.

♡ you fall into a steady rhythm of visits and late night talks. time between them varies, as the knight's travels take them far and wide, but your door is always open to them. on a rainy night, you perch at your table with a steaming mug of cider. sketches are strewn across the table, each offering a prospective new project for you to undertake. your musings are interrupted by a clatter at the door. like so many times before, you look up to see the scarlet knight, except... except they're falling to the floor, and you just barely manage to block their descent with your body. you wince as you hit the cold stone, but you quickly forget your discomfort when your palm comes back bright red. "blood?!" you cry out. "I didn't... know where else to... go..." the knight manages to get out.

♡ you did not sign up for this. you did not sign up for undressing a somewhat-friend-somewhat-stranger in your workshop. you did not sign up for pulling up their tunic and revealing planes of well-toned muscles. you did not sign up for stitching together their skin and wiping away the excess blood. you certainly did not sign up to remove their helmet, thinking it would put unnecessary strain on their body, only to find yourself face to face with the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen.

#lychee writes #hello I am insane about erza #as usual #also I'm a sucker for a reader who creates stuff #part two tmrw hopefully bc I have Thoughts #heehee #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #fairy tail x reader #erza scarlet #laxus dreyar #but this ain't about him #cana alberona #lucy heartfilia #hisui

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years

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Taking care of my dragon | Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After getting his pride hurt at the tourney, Daemon needs help to calm down and unwind

Word count:

Warning: pure softness and intimacy (no smut)

Request: You are amazing♥️ You bring me a sense of comfort that I haven’t felt in a really long time and Daemon please🙏🙏🙏

You winced as you watched Daemon's back slide along the tilt rail, his armor screeching and hurting your ears, and got knocked down and unhorsed as he reached its end. One of the squires came to help him up, but Daemon and his pride shoved him off.

This joust was off to a bad start…

On the opposite end, Criston Cole got down his horse, both men wishing to continue in a contest of arms.

The duel was difficult to watch, but you couldn’t look away, worried for your man. Cole was relentless on Daemon; they weren't jousting anymore, the fight had gotten personal. One wanted to win to bring honor to his house by defeating Daemon Targaryen, and the other was a sore loser and letting his anger out on Cole, swinging Dark Sister and kicking him until he was down.

The crowd cheeked for Daemon, who relished all the acclamations all while having his back turn on Cole. That turned out to be a huge mistake because Cole stood up and hit Daemon with his flail square in the back, sending him to the ground.

Your heart leaped and stopped for a fraction of a second, shocked at Cole's brutality. You turned to the princess, expecting to see her shocked face, but Rhaenyra seemed enamored by the young knight. He even came and asked for her favor, which could have been sweet had he not done all that spectacle to get her attention.

The tourney continued, other knights coming and jousting in the list. You tried concentrating on the duels, but Daemon remained on your mind. You thought to go see him, to bring him a little comfort after his defeat, but he had his pride hurt big time and assumed he wanted to be alone.

‘’My lady?’’ One of the handmaids appeared at your side, quietly speaking. ‘’It’s Prince Daemon, he…please come.’’

You followed the handmaid up to your and Daemon’s chambers as she informed you of Daemon's little outburst following his embarrassing defeat against Cole. According to her, he had been kicking and throwing things, behaving like a child and making a tantrum. One of the guards tried to control him, but Daemon pulled a dagger at him and that’s when someone suggested to get you.

If anyone could get the prince to calm down, it was his lady wife.

The bedchamber was in shambles and surprisingly quiet when you arrived. Daemon's dragon helmet was on the floor next to a broken vase – he must have chucked it in his fit of rage –, his breastplate, gauntlets and else were scattered around the room.

Your handmaiden, Alyse, emerged from behind the sheer curtain of the bathing area, seeming relieved to see you. ‘’Prince Daemon is currently soaking in the bath I have readied for him. I will bring in towels and wine for him.’’

You nodded. ‘’Very well. Thank you, Alyse.’’

‘’Does the lady require anything else?’’ she asked before leaving the room.

‘’No, that will be all. Leave the towels and wine on the table.’’ You smiled politely at the handmaiden who nodded and left. ‘’Leave us. Everyone.’’

The guards and other handmaids vacated the chambers, closing the door behind.

You crossed the room and pulled the curtain. In the middle of the bathing chamber, Daemon was immersed up to his armpits and steam was coming from the large steel wash basin, scalding hot just the way he liked it. The bottom of his hair was wet from dipping in the water, and the usual soft silver mane all tangled and dirty from the tourney. His under-clothes were left in a puddle by the bath and he was grumbling in High Valyrian.

‘’Husband,’’ you said, stepping in.

‘’This usurper cunt of a knight humiliated me in my city!’’

‘’A bruise to the ego won’t kill you, my love.’’

‘’Besides, I doubt you yielded. I’m sure you could have taken the man down with your dagger. It’s small, but you could have taken his eye out easily – but you didn’t.’’

Daemon cocked an eyebrow. ‘’His eye?’’ he repeated, not expecting that kind of brutality from his wife.

You hummed. ‘’Go for the throat if not harmed, and for the eyes if harmed. Your opponent’s chances are down if he is blinded.’’

‘’You’d be great at joust, my love.’’

‘’I’d rather be a spectator.’’

You walked over to the wash basin and sat on its edge. Automatically, Daemon let his head fall against your thigh, his defeat still heavy on his ego. You cradled the back of his head the way you would a small kitten and began undoing the braids from his hair.

‘’Would you like me to put some lavender oil? It’s has anti-inflammatory and analgesic properties, it should relieve your muscles after all that jousting.’’

Without waiting for his answer, you fetched it from the cabinet and poured a few drops of lavender oil in the scalding hot bath, then moved a hand through the water surrounding him to mix the oil to the water.

‘’It also had calming properties…for your temper,’’ you added with a glint of teasing.

Daemon chuckled, knowing how he can be. ‘’It’s Cole’s fault for waking the dragon.’’

You heard the chamber door open and close – Alysa bringing in the wine and towels – but paid it no mind. Her respect for privacy was the reason why you had personally requested her as your handmaiden.

You sat back on the edge of the wash basin and grabbed the sponge, plunging it in the water before running it over Daemon’s chest, watching the water dribble over his sculpted pecs. ‘’It doesn’t happen when I wake the dragon.’’

‘’That’s because you’ve tamed it and made it yours.’’ He flicked his violet eyes on you, a wash of desire in them.

A smile curled on your lips, running the sponge over his chest again. ‘’Would my dragon like to have his hair washed?’’

There's something so intimate about bathing with your lover. Washing each other, or just sitting in the warm water and relaxing. It's a bonding experiment, a moment of tenderness between a husband and his wife, an easy way to strengthen your relationship.

And it helps unwind after a long day.

The question was left pending, but you reached for the wooden comb and pitcher anyway. You combed out all of the knots and tangles with the comb, then filled the pitcher with warm water. You slid your hand up to Daemon’s forehead and made him tip his head back, pouring water at his hairline slowly, watching as it cascaded down his back and into the bath water.

‘’You’re so good to me,’’ Daemon purred, leaning into your delicate touch as you meticulously massaged his scalp through the sods of the soap. ‘’You bring me a sense of comfort that I haven’t felt in a really long time.’’

His words touched your heart, their softness showing a layer of Daemon only you knew of. This layer was hidden beneath layers and layers of arrogance, impulsiveness and…well, fire.

You filled the pitcher with water again, and rinsed and repeated until all the sods were out.

‘’All done.’’ You put down the pitcher and pressed a tender kiss to the back of his left shoulder.

Daemon let out a long, drawn out groan.

‘’Did I hurt you?’’

‘’No,’’ he immediately said, rolling his shoulders and furrowing his eyebrows. ‘’My shoulders are a little stiff. It’s all.’’

You took hold of one of Daemon’s tender shoulders and squeezed gently. He groaned again. ‘’You're all tense, my love.’’ You poured some lavender oil in your palms and slid your hands firmly across his shoulders and down his upper back, feeling the tension and knots under your palms. ‘’Does that feel good?’’

A soft moan escaped his lips.

The water must be getting lukewarm and unpleasant – he’s been bathing for a moment –, but Daemon didn’t seem to mind.

Ever so gently, you began making small circles with your thumbs, working your way from the middle of his neck down. You gradually made your way to his shoulders, your hands working their way across his back, fingers moving over the contours of his muscles until they were putty under your palms.

‘’Mmh, you've got the delicatest hands, my darling wife.’’ His eyes were closed and face smooth with contentment.

You paused your massage to loosely snake your arms around your husband’s shoulders and kissed his cheekbone. ‘’Only for you.’’

House of the Dragon/Game of Thrones taglist: @anastasiaxsworld @lollypopcrazylover @fin-never @dkathl @ayamenimthiriel @nerdy4itall @rraindrops @glors3 @beelanie @hc-geralt-23 @sweetybuzz25 @uniquenightsheep @kaywsworld @i-yam-awesome @caspianobsessed @kelssssxd @dilfsarebetterthanyou @missyviolet123 @leakycauldrns @brezzybfan @khaleesihavilliard @vexedvalerie @lollaa-puff @my-dark-prince @chevelledahuman @caspianobsessed @ayamenimthiriel @yor72 @mirandastuckinthe80s @newtsniffles @cleverzonkwombatsludge @justaproudslytherpuff @ren-ni @green-lxght @anginoguera @bubblebuttwade @comicsol1999 @rockerchick05 @baelavelaryonwp @tnu-ree @beccawinter @alexisabirdie @persage @hayleighloatx @kindaslightlyacidic @perdynerd @elsyyie @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @xannybabyxx @katiepie67 @kjones375 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @queenofshinigamis @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @Wehi02 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @cayleecook38 @yoyopolloobamadaddy @hayleighloatx @vane1999-blog @smptxx @fairyfolkloresposts @yassi-world @todaywasafairytale07 @ESobilal @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @Katelyn15m @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @beggarsnotchoosey @vainillasmil157 @kizzyxren @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @Harryshousewhore @kodzuvk @tnu-ree @omgsuperstarg @futuregws @blackravena @ashlatano7567 @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @uh-no-actually @secretsthathauntus @lemiqa @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @Hc-geralt-23 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @mouldyfrog @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @drusillaravenclaw @softtina @Jelly-fishy-babie @evesolstice @Thelilacmourning @dkathl @Thelilacmourning @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @xannybabyxx

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd #hotd imagine #daemon hotd

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kaylatoonz · 1 month

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AU inspired by Voltron, Sonic forces, and Infinite’s character backstory.

Context:

Zero has always had a fear/hatred of being weak which stemmed from the loss of his original team and family, the Jackal Quad. Because of his weakness, his team and family were wiped out by a job gone wrong. Since then Zero had been trying desperately not to make the same mistake again by training. Eventually, he formed a new team that was almost like family to him (though they would never replace his old team and family). His new team made him feel stronger than his past self and more loved than he could remember. Zero almost believed that things could be different or better, that was until disaster struck. Zero’s team took on a job that nearly cost their lives which stirred up some long-buried fears and hate Zero had. Although they survive by the skin of their teeth he can’t help but think that nothing has changed, he was weak. His team was weak. and that needed to change. so Zero turns to the dark and mysterious powers of Phantom Ruby to empower himself and his team against their will. To cement this change, he took on the name Infinite and led his new improved team to lay ruin upon those who had tried to destroy them and rule over those who were weak.

Fortunately, gadgets, one of Zero's teammates had escaped before he was corrupted like the rest of his comrades. He fearfully seeks help from heroes to help free his friends from the corruption of the phantom ruby and the reign of Infinite.

Bonus context:

Zero/infinite’s new team members are Gadgets, the Wolf, Amy Rose, Bronte the Tenrec, Ellis the star-nosed mole, and Twitch the Fennec. (the last three are my oc I made for this AU).

Zero's old team goes on heinous jobs while his new team takes on more jobs helping those in need throughout the galaxy.

Zero and Gadget were the closest before his corruption, so Infinite is dead set on hunting Gadget down to make him join them (not sure if I want him to be romantic or platonic).

Zero “hated” Amy the most because she was always able to see through him when he was emotionally vulnerable. He also saw her compassion for enemies to be a weakness which caused the two to Butthead a lot.( when Infinite corrupted his teammates he removed/suppressed their “weaknesses”).

Each team member can summon a weapon: Zero/Infinite- sword/dagger Amy- hammer, Gadget- grapple gun, Bronte- axe guitar, Ellis- gauntlets, twitch- shield.

#sonic movie 3 #movie amy rose #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #sonamy #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #gadget the wolf #infinite the jackal #sonic ocs #sonic forces

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featherbreak · 10 months

Text

Camilla Hect's sworddaggerknives: an exhaustingly comprehensive weapons inventory

(alternate title: "In Which Tamsyn Muir Tries to Kill Cosplayers with Imaginary Weapons", or "How to Consult a Swordfighter for the Fight Scenes but Not Give Nearly As Much of a Fuck About the Implements Used")

Written in hopes that this will either spare other Cam cosplayers some misery, or bring them to the commiseration station --

Gideon The Ninth - Canaan House Cam: In Which We Meet the Weapons Nerd of the Sixth

When we first encounter Camilla Hect, she's using a somewhat traditional sword + offhand combo against Gideon:

Gideon The Ninth, chapter 12, bold emphasis mine, italics canon -

She dropped the wedge of sculpture with a clonk, drew her sword from its shabby scabbard before the wedge had bounced once, and advanced. Gideon, neurons blaring, drew her own. She slid her hand into her ebon gauntlet—the grey-cloaked girl let the flashlight fall, drew a knife with a liquid whisper from a holder across one shoulder—and their blades met high above their heads as the cavalier leapt, metal on metal ringing all around the chamber. ... Blow after lightning blow rattled her defences, each one coming down like an industrial crush press, the short offhand knife targeting the guard of Gideon’s blade. ... her opponent dropped as though shot, crouched, kicked her dagger up into her hand, and did a handspring backward down the stairs.

Anime physics aside, we have also immediately established Tamsyn Muir's love of using "dagger" and "knife" interchangeably. The sword is described as a rapier a paragraph later, at least:

Gideon was stronger; the girl’s arm was buckling—she brought up her rapier to harass Gideon’s blocking arm ...

We get a closer look at it in the duel against the Second:

Gideon The Ninth, chapter 23, emphasis mine -

The rapier looked, like Gideon’s, maybe a million years old. It was the first time she had seen it in a good light, and here it looked as though it had never been designed to take an edge blow; the blade was light and delicate as a cobweb. The offhand looked like Camilla’s whole House had gone searching down the back of the sofa for weapons. They had come up with what looked more like a long hunting or hacking knife than a duelling dagger: thick, meaty, cross-guarded, with a single sharpened edge. The whole effect was sadly amateurish.

We quickly learn that she can still deliver a drubbing with this combo. However, it is not clear whether her offhand in this duel is the same knife as the one she fought Gideon with - which is described as a "short offhand knife" compared to the "long" knife against Marta - and we can call that into question more confidently once we learn that Cam is PACKING LOTS OF STEEL:

Gideon The Ninth, chapter 27, emphasis mine -

There was no question about whether or not Camilla inhabited the horrible cot attached to the end, cavalier-style. It sagged beneath assorted weapons and tins of metal polish.

Gideon, being a weapons nerd herself, calls Cam on her setup bluff partly by elaborating on Cam's pile o' pointies:

“So, hey. What do you really use when you’re not pretending the rapier’s your main wield? Two short blades of equal length, or one blade and one baton?” Her keen eyes narrowed into black-lined slits. “How did I mess up?” she asked, eventually. “You drew your rapier and your dagger at the same time. And you’re ambidextrous. You keep cutting like both your blades are curved. Also, there’s six swords and a nightstick on your bed.” “Should’ve tidied my mess,” admitted Camilla. “Two blades. Double-edged.”

Gideon refers to Cam's offhand in the duel with the Second as a dagger here, too, despite having previously observed that it looked more like a knife. She also refers to all the blades on Cam's bed as "swords", but it's clearly a mix of blade types. Gideon is only as consistent or reliable a narrator as Tamsyn is; her terminology is equally laissez-faire.

Cam, meanwhile, is not more specific when she describes her main wields: they're just "blades." We finally meet them when shit hits the fan later on, but they are confounding:

Gideon The Ninth, chapter 32, emphasis mine -

With only the faintest liquid whisper of metal on sheath, Camilla drew her swords. Gideon had never had the opportunity to study Camilla’s two short swords before: they were more like very long daggers, slightly curved at each end, wholly utilitarian.

So Gideon's observation that Cam cuts as if the blades are curved seems to hold water, but Cam specifically only identifies her blades as double-edged - which is much less common on curved blades longer than a few inches. In the same breath, they're implied to be shorter than short swords, but remarkable enough to call "very long" for daggers, which also means they're longer than the "knife" length in which having double edges is relatively common without making tradeoffs in durability/blade structure.

(This is where my brain broke.)

To add insult to injury, for the rest of the chapter, Tamsyn calls them knives:

Gideon The Ninth, chapter 36, emphasis mine -

She crashed into her from the side, her two knives flashing like signal lamps in the sunlit hall. ... Camilla Hect off the leash was like light moving across water. She punched her knives into the Lyctor’s guard over and over and over.

Well, mostly. That would be too easy. Here's the lone exception:

Camilla slumped next to her, swords crossed over her knees.

SWORDS AGAIN?

We also see Cam with a single knife. It's unclear if it's one of her main dual wields or another one she had stashed:

Camilla, as she’d seen from above, had caught up with Cytherea the First. She had one hand in the Lyctor’s singed curls, dragging her head back. The other hand pressed a knife against the smaller woman’s throat.

Whatever it is also is well-balanced enough to throw -

Her good arm was up behind her head, holding the blade of her knife. Gideon ducked. The knife whistled over the top of Gideon’s head in a flashing blur and buried itself in Cytherea’s upper back.

- which usually implies something shorter and less medieval dagger-y. Different knife? or more Anime Physics? We don't know.

In conclusion: Canaan House establishes Cam as Very Hot and Good At Pointy Objects. Who the fuck knows what they are, though.

---

Harrow the Ninth - Random Planet Encounter Cam: Still Kickin'

At this point, Cam has been chugging along under the tender mercies of BoE, hauling her pulverised necro around, and comes face to face with a delightfully lobotomized Harrow. She's still dual wielding, although whether they're her Canaan House blades is doubtful, and they're described as knives all the way through:

Harrow The Ninth, chapter 32, emphasis mine -

... you were astonished by the speed with which Hect drew those big, balanced knives from each shoulder, and hurled herself at your skeleton like a stone from a sling. Her first sweep with the butt of a knife shattered the ribcage—it coalesced back; you now disdained skeletons not made of permanent ash. ... Camilla Hect sheathed her knives with as much speed and fury as she had unsheathed them, and she said: “No sudden moves.”

Still a badass, obviously. And "big" knives seems to imply they're still of a long-dagger/short-short-sword length as Gideon described. "Butt" instead of "hilt" or similar terminology seems to imply they're more pedestrian than daggers. What the hell does Harrow mean by calling them "balanced", though?

Who the fuck knows. That's all we get. Onward to:

---

Nona the Ninth - New Rho Cam: More Badass & More Bonkers Than Ever

Cam is living her best worst best-given-the-circumstances guerrilla fighter rebel operative life. This means she's just...armed to the teeth all the goddamn time, and it's knives all the way down:

Nona The Ninth, chapter 2 -

... Camilla looked the person deep in their eyes and casually touched the hilt of the knife she kept down the waistband of her trousers, and then the person moved to the back of the queue.

Nona The Ninth, chapter 9 -

Camilla had been crouched down, wiping her knives on one of their jackets. ... Then she had equally normally set to putting her knives away – sticking them in the bands down her thighs, inside her trousers –

Nona The Ninth, chapter 12 -

Almost all of the knives Camilla had strapped to her got taken away, but not the very hidden knife, or at least the one hidden knife Nona knew about. There were probably more.

This could be because they're actually knives, or because Nona's vocabulary only goes so far, and her narration - backed by Tamsyn's established lackadaisical approach to pointy objects - is too simple for disambiguation.

To hint at this: when upon prepping for the final mission(s) of the book, Cam empties out the hidden armory, and Nona goes so far as to compare two of her blades to kitchen or filleting knives:

Nona The Ninth, chapter 22, emphasis mine -

Pash said, “Your people... that obsession with swords.” “We are our swords,” said Camilla. She shrugged on a criss-cross halter of black plastic straps and clipped it tight across the front of her chest, and then she opened a box and took out two long, plain knives, the type of thing they used to chop up fish at the market. All of Cam’s secret knife stash, Nona thought, numb with anticipation.

Cam seems to only say "swords" to mirror Pash philosophically, not to describe her weapons, but it's worth noting.

A detail that is mentioned once and then never brought up again, though, is that she's carrying at least four blades into the fight. Earlier in that chapter:

Camilla flipped open boxes and took out a belt, which she tied around her waist, and she secured a hook to the side of the belt. To this hook she reverently attached a long plain black scabbard, then a shorter plain black scabbard, and she tested the hilts in her hands.

So: two unseen blades of possibly different lengths - described only by the hilts, but stored in scabbards of two different lengths - in addition to "two long, plain knives" that are presumably stashed in the shoulder? back? chest? "criss-cross halter" holster situation. Or something.

Say it with me: WHO THE ACTUAL FUCK KNOWS.

Nona The Ninth, chapter 23, emphasis mine -

Just for shits and giggles, Tamsyn throws in the only use of "daggers" to describe Cam's weapons in the whole goddamn book right before the final duel with Ianthe:

The two uniformed soldier zombies knelt Camilla, roughly. They squeezed her wrists until, with an agonised hiss of breath, she dropped her daggers. They clattered softly on the carpet.

Her main dual wields of choice, this time, seem to be single-edged, likely the "fish knife" pair:

She mopped a little at her chest... she was bleeding freely and messily... and she picked up, from where they had fallen, her two long, plain, one-sided knives.

Even Ianthe agrees that they're knives:

“I didn’t mean to take anything to this planet I couldn’t replace,” said the Prince. “I shouldn’t have bothered. Why two knives?” “Shock and awe,” said Camilla.

And then Paul happens and my heart broke forever that brings us to the end of Camilla Hect As We Knew Her x Bladed Weapons OTP For Life is too short and love is too long.

So what's our takeaway on accurately portraying Camilla Hect, you might ask?

tl;dr: use whatever the fuck you want. go loud, Cams.

do not be like me and spend a cumulative 15-20 hours spread out over three weeks debating how to accurately portray her weapon shape because fanart seems to mostly depict her with daggers.

---

as for me? I've finally gone with utilitarian but elegant hunting daggers (long, cross-guarded, single-edged, curved at the end) for Canaan House Cam and a scrappy pair of Bowie knives for New Rho Cam, after polling a bunch of Cam fans; votes were overwhelmingly in favor of curved blades being more important than double edges. THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN.

with the utmost thanks and apologies to the patient & best beloved folks in the Library for responding to my Cam poll, and for emphasizing & reassuring me that cosplaying On Vibes is kosher and encouraged in this fandom

#double-edged blades that curve at the end and are longer than a dagger but shorter than a short sword? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE my head hurts #tazmuir's Final Fantasy fandom pedigree is REALLY SHOWING HERE #raise your hand if you've been personally victimized by tamsyn muir's approach to weapons #listen i know that any kind of realism is kind of besides the point in this damn series but could we get some CONSISTENCY #also who's going to write Cam using the nightstick?#insert magic stick joke here please and thank you #camilla hect #tlt cosplay #tlt meta #tlt canon analysis #the locked tomb #sixth house #the sixth house #camilla the sixth #the locked tomb meta #cosplay reference #the locked tomb cosplay #tlt cosplay reference #featherbreak rambles

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howtofightwrite · 1 year

Note

Sorry if you've answered this before (it's hard finding older posts on your blog!) But I'd love to know if clawed gauntlets/ claw attachments on hands were a realistic & not horribly flawed weapon! There was a recent film (woman king) about the Amazons of Dahomey where the women would file their fingernails into what we're effectively claws, but all I could think was "man that would really hurt your fingers if you tried to rip someone's throat open"

I'm wondering if removable, strong metal claws would be worth it, or would they just be made redundant by whatever other weapon the warrior would have on hand?

You're probably thinking of the Bagh Nakh. These are are sometimes called, “tiger claws,” though they usually don't mount onto the finger tips. Instead the blades are either mounted to the back of the hand, or between the fingers.

It's a real weapon, though, they are a bit niche. Basically, this is a relative of the punch dagger, and while they can make for pretty decent concealed weapons, they're not something you'd really want to take onto the battlefield.

I wouldn't want to mount blades onto my fingernails for a number of reasons. First, it would be far too easy to accidentally snag and break a finger mid-combat. Note: I did not say, “break a nail,” I mean straight up snap a finger.

There are Bagh Nakh versions which mount directly onto the finger tip. In these cases, they're part of an articulated gauntlet. However, these specific fingertip variants are a bit dubious. The Bagh Nakh is already an unusual weapon, but it's unclear if the fingertip gauntlets were ever used, or even intended for use. It's quite possible that these were always intended as a kind of souvenir or decorative piece. (All of the examples with the blades mounted directly onto the fingers, that I'm aware of, are relatively modern, fragile, and ornate.)

As for using your actual fingernails as weapons? That's not going to work especially well. For one thing, you may have noticed, but your fingernails are non-retractable. If you sharpen your fingernails you need to live with that choice. Which could make scratching hard to reach itches, bathing, or even relieving yourself a slightly more complicated, and dangerous prospect.

Additionally, you may have noticed that poking a fingernail through armor is going to be slightly tricky, and if your nails were somehow sharpened to the point where piercing armor was an option, that would add, “getting dressed,” to the list of activities that were suddenly far more dangerous than they used to be.

Can you pierce skin with a sharpened nail? Yes. It doesn't even need to be that sharp, and it's not going to be that unpleasant (unless you're accidentally stabbing yourself.) Getting the necessary penetration to get into an artery? I'm less convinced that's possible, but I wouldn't write it off completely. Being able to do any of that in combat? No, that's just fetishizing women on the battlefield.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #martial arts #starke answers #how to fight write #bagh nakh #tiger claws

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vosh-rakh · 2 months

Text

Ku-vastei watched lazily as young Hla-eix and the Duke’s daughter, Derelayn, play-fought in the palace courtyard. Derelayn was bigger than Hla-eix, being a few years older, but Hla-eix kept pace with her. The clacks of their wooden toy swords clashing resonated throughout the empty space. Ku-vastei was proud of her daughter’s skill; she recognized several short blade maneuvers she had taught her herself.

Ku glanced at her wife lounging nearby, casually reading a book. Ku-vastei thought she must be very lucky to have such a lovely wife and daughter. (Being Hortator was a nice plus, too – at least when she had a moment to breathe like this.)

But the feeling was short-lived. A sudden jolt of pain spiked up her right hand, permanently encased in Wraithguard. With her left hand she reached for the glass of cold marshmerrow juice on the small table next to her, and took a mighty swig. No healing potion, but a decent analgesic. The pain slowly subsided in descending throbs until it was barely noticeable. She flexed her hand to make sure. A bit tight in the fingertips and crook of the thumb, but manageable. Watching the interlocking plates and joints shift, she had an idea.

“Girls!” she shouted across the courtyard. “Come here.”

Hla-eix and Derelayn dropped their swords and approached seated Ku-vastei.

“Yes, mama?” asked Hla-eix, expectant.

At the same time, Derelyan asked, “Yes, Hortator?” She seemed nervous, like she thought she was in trouble. And the fact that the girl still called Ku “Hortator” after all these years bothered her.

“Tell me,” Ku began, “What is on my right hand?”

The girls fell silent and thoughtful. After a moment, Derelayn offered, “Lord Vivec, Hortator?”

“No, Derry,” said Ku, patiently but without smiling. “Vivec is my left hand.”

Hla-eix lit up and suggested, “Oh! It’s Uncle Arry!”

“No, Eix,” said Ku again, shaking her head. “Aryon is my right hand, yes, but you’re not thinking literally enough.”

“Ohhh,” Hla-eix gasped, a long, drawn out sound. “You mean Wraithguard!”

“Yes, sweetheart,” said Ku, still not smiling. She raised her right hand, the back of Wraithguard facing the girls. “Eix, do you know what it does?”

“Yes, mama!” Hla-eix said, eager to show her knowledge. “It keeps you safe from the power of Sunder and Keening!”

“And what would happen if someone without Wraithguard on their hand attempted to wield Sunder or Keening?”

Hla-eix frowned and her voice became solemn. “They would die, mama.”

“Hm,” muttered Ku with a slight nod. With Wraithguard, she pulled Keening from its sheath on her hip. “This,” she said, brandishing the profane dagger, “is Keening, what laid low Dagoth Ur with its final sting to his heart.” (She was so used to the lie she had told Vivec after that fight that she told it everywhere – none but Azura could prove her wrong, and she didn’t seem interested.)

“Ah!” gasped Hla-eix, leaning in close.

“Wow!” added Derelayn, also leaning in. “It’s so pretty!”

“Don’t touch!” Ku warned suddenly, raising her voice. “You would die!”

The girls recoiled in fear from the blade, frightened by Ku’s volume.

“You mustn’t be careless with the profane tools,” admonished Ku. “One wrong move and –” She quickly tossed up Keening, catching it in her bare left hand.

“Mama, no!” cried Hla-eix, lunging forward to stop her mother’s apparent carelessness. Derelayn burst into tears immediately.

Ku-vastei pulled back Keening from Hla-eix’s reach, and burst into laughter. “You thought I was in danger!” She returned the dagger to its sheath. “It’s a neat trick I learned by accident once – the gauntlet protects my whole body!”

But now even Hla-eix was crying big, angry tears. From behind came a shout from Ashiri: “Ku-vastei! Stop frightening the children!”

“Oh, it was just a bit of fun, I didn’t mean to –”

“Girls, come to mommy. It’s okay, sweets. That’s right, come here and give me a big hug.”

Ku rolled her eyes. Kids these days. So sensitive.

#a little short (and posted at a weird time)#but w/e #tes #tesblr #my writing #morrowind #oc: ku-vastei #oc: hla-eix #oc: derelayn dren #oc: ashiri #argonian #dunmer #vivec

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likethelightfromorionabove · 4 months

Text

The Exquisite Heat of a Dying Star: Chapter One

Characters/ Character Pairings: Dark Urge/Enver Gortash, Dark Urge/Astarion, Gale, Karlach

SPICE Rating: 3/5 While the focus of this fic isn't smut it is present and very plot relevant.

Chapter Content Warnings: Mild Choking, Mild knifeplay, Sexual content, Violent Dark Urge ideations, general Durgetash nastiness, heavy angst, infidelity

Spoilers: Act 3, Dark Urge Plot Line

Canon Compliance: While I am very committed to keeping the characters in character, this is a reimagining of the events of Act Three and the post game had Durge decided to return to Gortash's side and save him from himself. So after a certain point, the canon is dead.

Other Notes: “The assassin” AKA durge in this fic is nonbinary, AFAB anatomy. If you prefer to read on AO3 you can find this chapter here.

Songs on Repeat:

Family Tree by Ethel Cain

Give myself up to him an offering

Let him make a woman outta me

Let Christ forgive these bones I've been hiding

And the bones I'm about to leave

Bad Timing by Blindlove

I swear this isn't like me

Give it up and I'll sink to the bottom

But I'll be here waiting for you

This love is unlikely

Let's blame it on bad timing

Smut below the cut dolls! Enter at your own risk!

The archduke’s dark eyes on them could only be described as hungry. The gleam behind them was reminiscent of Astarion’s eyes when he fed, down to the unsettling tenderness behind the ache. His hand had outstretched for just a moment, as if he intended to touch them and then thought better of it. As the archduke played his lapse off as part of a wider gesture, the tin ringing in their ears started up.

He wants to touch you. He wants to touch you. Hack it off! Hack it off! He’ll never get to touch you again!

Again? They tried to push deeper into the urge’s meaning and were only met with an overwhelming surge of bloodlust. Their hands twitched, aching to release their dagger. The archduke was still talking, though they had stopped fully listening and it seemed he wasn’t fully listening to himself. His eyes had fallen from their face to their hip, where their blades were slung. If he had looked hungry before, his eyes on their blade were positively ravenous.

He wants you to hurt him. He always wanted you to hurt him. A royal, loyal little lapdog, awaiting your command. It would be so easy to hurt him. Get him alone and slice, slice, slice. He’d thank you for it after.

They tried to swallow back the bile rankling in their throat as the urge gloated. He had asked them something, something they hadn’t heard, but his hand was outstretched expectantly. The usual quiet background noise that was the urge surged into a frenzied scream as their eyes fell on his hand.

Hackitoffhackitoffhackitoffhackitoffhackitoff!

No one can ever touch you!

Astarion’s hand at the small of their back provided sickening punctuation to the urge’s manic squealing. Back outside their mind, the archduke’s eyes were bearing down on them, hunger slipping into unabashed lust as he skimmed their body. The ringing in their ears almost drowned out the sound of their own voice speaking words they hadn’t fully intended to say.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, tyrant.”

They couldn’t be certain, it happened too quickly , but a brief pained expression flickered across the archduke’s face at the honorific. Then, his eyes met theirs, his pupils fully blown, and his mouth spread to a wolfish grin. Something about it pulled in the back of their mind, the faint memory of blood, the taste of salt and a phantom caress up their back.

“I should certainly hope not, assassin.”

Their body acted without the instruction of their mind reaching out to take his hand as though they had done so a thousand times before. They felt Astarion’s hand cling to their back before his touch faded as their body moved away from his. The archduke’s grip was feather light, yet there was a firm undercurrent that guided them to follow him. The cool metal tips of his gauntlet lay carefully at their wrist, pressing in just enough to make their presence known. The tin ringing drowned out all other sound, leaving only the urge to gleefully sing.

Turn around, turn around, turn around and look! You know you want to see. You want to see how hurt he is. You want to see it on his face. You want to hurt him. You want to see him suffer. You want to see how far you can bend him ‘til he breaks. Turn and look, turn and look, turn and look!

They tried to focus in on the beat of their heart, desperate for anything to drown out the urge’s delight. The archduke had released their hand, but his eyes never left them. They avoided his stare, choosing to fix their gaze on the stone behind him. A white hot feeling passed over their body as the public nature of the archduke’s coronation and his evident passion settled on their shoulders. Something in the clarity of revelation drove them to bring their focus back to his face. His attention was focused on them entirely, as though he wasn’t listening to the grand duke’s words as he repeated them with grand empty gestures. His mouth maintained a small smile, his gaze still starved as they slowly met his eyes, staring into two dark pools, deep enough they feared they might drown. Their heartbeat slowed to the pace of a dirge.

Suddenly in a flurry of motion the ceremony was over. They were able to find their retreat in the flood of patriars, all clambering to gain the favor of their new archduke. They finally turned to face Astarion in their newfound freedom, but he wasn’t facing them. Instead, he was further away than they expected, clustered in a tight circle with Gale and Karlach. He appeared to be arguing with them.

They know what you did. They know who you are. They know who you are even when you don’t know who you are. They always knew who you were. They’ll never trust you again. Deep down they never did.

The urge was cut off by Karlach’s raised voice. Her voice reverberated off the walls, yet none of the elite seemed to hear her. She stormed from the hall with Gale following quickly in her wake with a rueful glance in their direction. Astarion didn’t hesitate to turn back to the assassin. Even though his expression was difficult to read, they could tell he was displeased with the conversation. They started toward each other in tandem, Astarion’s hand reaching to them. Just as he was about to reach them, his expression darkened and they felt someone close in behind them.

The sudden prick of cold steel at their hip sent a wave of ice over their body that was quickly replaced by the warmth of the body behind them. “Meet me upstairs. Later, when your camp is settled. We have much to discuss.” he said, his voice so low it would have been impossible to hear were it not for his proximity. The archduke’s breath was hot against their ear, the hand on their hip just slightly tighter than was appropriate around so many people. He lingered with them for slightly longer than he should have, his body flush with their own. Their face turned to him slightly, just enough to see what he was looking at. Just enough to catch the piercing eye contact he was making with Astarion. He held Astarion’s glare for an agonizing moment, then stepped away and released them from his warmth.

The archduke left them with an ostentatious salutation of “My friends”, followed by a meaningful look to the assassin. Astarion resumed his usual posture beside them, his arm curled possessively around their hips. Where the cool of his body would have been comforting, they found it a jarring difference to the archduke’s warmth. “I’m not certain how I feel about the way he looked at you, my sweet.” Astarion murmured, making a small show of pressing a kiss into their hairline as he stared daggers into the archduke’s back.

“I’m not certain how I feel about it either.”

Outside in the bright light of Wyrm’s Crossing, Gale struggled to keep pace with the tiefling as she stormed back to their camp. After several paces of jogging to keep up the wizard stopped to beg her to slow down. Karlach obliged, but her nervous energy next to him put Gale on edge. His own anger was blistering just under his skin and Karlach’s louder, lower boiling point was making matters worse. When the decreased pace and uneasy silence seemed to prove too much, Karlach’s words exploded from her as though they couldn’t leave her mouth fast enough.

“They were working with Gortash! They were involved with him! Did you see the way he touched them? The way they took his hand? And Astarion just stayed there with them. Like he wasn’t even angry. Like he understood!”

Gale bristled at Karlach’s accusations and attempted to quicken his pace. “Astarion has never made his affections or allegiances a secret.” he quipped, attempting to seem nonchalant.

Karlach stopped in her tracks, face morphed with an incredulous look. Gale tried to keep walking but a strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. “You don’t have to defend him, soldier.” she said, her voice softening with her gaze.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” he replied, heat flowing across his ears and down the back of his neck “I am simply stating that our allies and friends, may have their reasons for what happened in there.” Karlach’s engine blazed a few degrees hotter in response to his words, bathing Gale in heat.

“They’re dangerous, Gale. Both of them. They’re dangerous apart and even more dangerous together.” she half-shouted, the strenuous effort it was taking her to remain sympathetic clear across her face.

Gale just swallowed hard, his gaze drifting over Karlach’s shoulders to the figures approaching. Astarion was still wrapped around the bhaalspawn, his pale hand at the usual place on their hip. The elf leaned into them as he walked, murmuring some unknown pleasantry in the bhaalspawn’s ear, his easy, teasing smile gracing their presence as always. The hand at their hip pressed in as Gale could surmise he was making some lewd joke about the pompous archduke and his blown out ceremony. As he watched the two spawn a familiar aching spread across Gale’s chest and he felt as though his heart were beating in his stomach.

Karlach had finally noted his distraction and looked over her own shoulder. When she realized who he was watching, she released a disapproving sigh and marched off. Gale turned halfway to follow her, torn between his anger with the Bhaalspawn and his desire to walk beside the vampire draped across their shoulders. In the time it took him to try to come to a decision Karlach was gone and the lovers had nearly reached his place on the road. He begrudgingly held his position for them, unable to prevent the glare that covered his face.

The bhaalspawn sighed as they reached him. “Don’t look at me like that.” they pleaded.

Gale felt his scowl deepen. “I’m not entirely certain I have anything to say to you at this moment. Beyond that this whole turn of events has been wholly unsurprising.” he snapped. The bhaalspawn’s jaw twitched, but they didn’t engage him further.

It was Astarion who cut in on their behalf. “Gale, don't be petulant.” he drawled, “Yes it would seem our esteemed leader is in fact the evil bastard who landed us all in this predicament in the first place, but there are bastards who are even more evil than they are who have been passed the torch.” Astarion threw a wink in the bhaalspawn’s direction as he wrapped an arm around Gale’s shoulders. Gale tried not to focus on the vampire’s touch, swallowing back the knot of emotion that formed in his throat.

“What took you both so long anyway?” he grumbled, trying to lean away from Astarion’s chest in a subtle manner.

“Actually that is a good question.” Astarion said, turning his attention back to his paramour, “What exactly did his eminence want to say to you?” Astarion’s voice was dripping in the kind of venom he usually reserved for speaking about his master. Gale wondered if something had happened after they left the coronation hall. The bhaalspawn tittered a moment before speaking.

“He wants to meet with me…alone.”

Astarion let out a barking laugh that would have come across as nonchalant, if Gale couldn’t feel his body stiffen next to him. “Well of course you shouldn’t do that, darling.” Astarion said with an airy wave of his hand, “That would be supremely foolish.”

Gale noted the small flash of irritation in their eyes before they spoke, not quite so deadly as he had seen before but still worth keeping an eye on. “I want to speak with him.” they replied, “He knows who I was before.”

“Now my sweet, let’s not play dumb.” Astarion hissed out nails digging into Gale’s shoulder, “We both know the tyrant doesn’t just want to talk .”

Gale regretted not following Karlach, but the damage was already done. The lovers both briefly seemed as though they each might draw a weapon, the air thick with tension. As he realized the bhaalspawn’s gaze was fixed on Astarion’s hand on his shoulder, Gale shifted away from the rogue. His body briefly mourned the loss of Astarion’s touch, but he preferred his organs in their appropriate place.

“Gortash is getting desperate. He’d likely say anything you wanted to hear to get you to his side.” he said, attempting to diffuse the energy flowing between them all.

“Or it’s a trap.” Astarion tacked on, “And I know a trap better than any of the rest of you.”

The bhaalspawn didn’t appear keen to back down on the subject, yet with an unsettling smile they shifted and extended a hand to Astarion. “You’re both right.” they cooed, their tone sickly sweet, “It was a foolish thought. Let’s get back to camp. I’m sure Karlach has already spread the news of my…unfortunate, former alliance.” Astarion took their hand and all tension dissipated with a kiss. Gale started down the path to their camp, his stomach churning.

The assassin was right, Karlach had already informed their companions, settling a tense quiet over the camp. Their stares of mistrust weren’t unfamiliar, if anything they were reminiscent of the days following the bard’s death. The ringing in their ears that had become so loud since they reached the city was becoming unbearable. They retreated to their bedroll, hoping tomorrow would bring some peace and a clearer plan of action.

Yet between the ringing and the urge’s incessant taunting, peace eluded them. Even when Astarion joined them to feed, the dread in their chest never lifted. Astarion’s presence was usually accompanied by a heady lightness and soft chill like a balm against a burn. His cool fingertips were often enough to chase the urge back to its quiet background noise, but tonight all that came of it was cold. Their body had felt cold since the archduke had touched them, as though his warmth had drained them of their own. The isolation from their companion’s, Astarion’s jealousy, his hand on Gale, all swirled through their mind, fighting for dominance over what the urge would use to further tear at their psyche.

You could earn their trust again. Eliminate the tyrant. Scurry off to his office and bathe in his blood. Tear into his flesh and they’ll sing your praises like a hero. Kill him and your vampire will feel warm again. His warmth will never taint you again.

They were on the road in Wyrm’s Crossing approaching the Rock. They couldn’t even be certain when they had decided to go or how they had gotten there. There was only one thought in their often empty mind. They needed to see the tyrant.

Access to the fortress was surprisingly simple. They expected to run the gauntlet, steel watch. Flaming Fists, trained assassins, but the path to the archduke’s personal quarters was cleared. Only a single Fist who merely nodded them along as though she had been expecting them. The quiet was unsettling, leaving them with only the urge whining over the lack of bloodshed.

Kill the tyrant extra bloody, then kill the rest of the sorry souls in this fortress. Show them your prowess, make them regret letting you in. Make them bleed.

The archduke was at his desk, poring over some documents with a glass of wine in his hand. He looked up from under his heavy brow as they entered with a soft, dangerous smile. “I’m glad you accepted my offer, assassin. There’s much to be done.” he said, waving them in from the doorway. They entered cautiously, unwilling to break the archduke’s stare. He held out a glass to them, gesturing to an empty seat near the desk. “It’s a vintage you favored.” he said, as they started to decline. Begrudgingly they accepted, giving the liquid a quick sniff. The archduke chuckled.

“Poison isn’t my preferred method, my dear.”

“That’s funny, I would have pegged it as your style, your grace.”

“Why should it be? Up until recently I had the finest assassin in Baldur’s Gate at my disposal.”

The assassin glared at him, but took a careful sip. The tyrant was right. If they were to choose, this would be their preference. It reminded them of the bottle they had shared with Astarion the night they had celebrated their victory over the goblins. Sharp, acidic, with undertones of earth, pepper and a dark fleshy fruit they couldn’t name. Clearly a finer vintage than had been available on the road, but with the same hint of vinegar.

The archduke was watching them again, clearly pleased with his overt knowledge where they lacked the ability to remember themselves. He was making his point rather beautifully. The desire to wipe the smirk off his face in blood nearly overtook them. Instead, they scowled into their glass before they spoke again.

“Your security measures are shockingly subpar, your grace. I waltzed right in without so much as a second glance.”

“But of course, dearest. Their orders are simple. You are free to come and go as you wish and no matter what they might hear, they are not to interrupt. I expect my orders to be followed to perfection.”

“And you find that a wise choice, archduke? To allow me as close as I would wish? To allow me whatever my twisted psyche might drive me to do?” they asked. The assassin placed both hands on his desk, leaning over him as every ounce of malice thrummed through their body. He looked up at them with a nearly hopeful expression, as though he was eager for whatever harm they might intend him. “My assassin, my dagger, my love,” the archduke purred, “My life has long been yours to forfeit. If you have decided tonight is my end, then I willingly lay myself at the mercy of your blade.”

NOW! NOWNOWNOW! DO IT NOW!

They had started to laugh, the low, throaty chuckle of a madman. The archduke was either supremely stupid or just as insane as they were. Yet his every word rang with sincerity. Who was this man? Who was he to them? The urge recognized his presence when even they could not. Their wild laughter had hunched them over the desk, gripped by the urge’s wild screaming and the utter insanity of it all. Then something warm touched their cheek.

The archduke had placed a hand on their face, wiping away the tears they couldn’t source the emotion behind. Their own hand acted once again without their command, clasping on to the hand at their cheek. Fixed on his dark eyes, a sense of comfort and self flooded their chest, chasing down and destroying the doubt they were clinging to like the mast of a ship. His eyes reflected their own image back to them with the kind of intimacy reserved only for the beloved. It ripped at their memory so viciously they wondered if they would leave this room with their mind intact. The room around them tilted as flashes of memory flickered across their senses.

As their knees buckled, they were abruptly surrounded by warmth. The archduke was holding them up, face angled down to them, close enough that his dark hair tickled their skin. The assassin had to pull back from the instinct to close the distance between them and relearn the taste of his tongue. His expression was just as intense as the moment they first encountered him, but now coloured with a fond softness. His body felt familiar, like a homecoming their very soul had been waiting for since they set foot in the city, despite their mind not holding a single memory of him.

“Hello, assassin. Welcome home.”

They moved back, noting their reluctance to break from his warmth. Their body undeniably craved his presence. “Who are you?” they whispered, uncertain that was the question they meant to ask.

“Enver Gortash, Archduke of Baldur’s Gate.” he replied with a smirk, “But to you, my dearest? Tyrant, lordling, would be duke. Occasionally darling or even Enver, if I behaved.” His tone was fond, as though he were telling a dear friend the story of his greatest love. Perhaps he was…

Their heart was beating in their throat. This had been a mistake. Astarion had been right, they had to get back to him. They had to leave, to get back to camp. They just needed their body to move, to listen to their commands once more. A task that proved to be outside their own purview.

Without thinking they moved to the window rather than the door, only realizing they had done so as their fingertips were brushing the sill. They had settled on the faintest grooves in the wood, slotting perfectly into place. The faint smell of cloves and tobacco brushed their senses. Their other hand raised, pressing lightly into the cold, warped glass of the pane. The blood pounded in their ears, drowning out their senses until there was only the urge.

You came here to do something. Don’t leave now. Soak the sill in blood. Let it run over the wall. Get him here, lean him out and slit his throat. Do it. Stop waiting. He wants you to do it. Give in and do it. Do it. DO IT.

Warmth enveloped their body. The urge fell silent as Enver’s chest molded to their back, a large arm wrapping their chest. The stubble of his chin prickled at their neck and at some distant sensation that could have been lifetimes ago. “You remember more than you think you do, assassin.” he crooned. His weight pressed them forward against the pane, the harsh cold of the glass countered by his warmth. Their mind vaguely conjured the feeling of Astarion’s chest against their skin the first time they had laid with him in the forest. Their hand twitched towards the latch of the window, but something in them couldn’t finish the motion.

“Your body remembers. Though if you’re so inclined, I would be glad to give it a reminder.” he continued, a clawed thumb rubbing slow circles against their hip. He paused to wait for their response, his lips pressing at the base of their neck. When their words failed, the hand on their chest drifted across their stomach. Their grip on the window sill tightened, deepening the slight grooves by another notch. As his hand toyed at their laces, their fingers splayed against the glass. A brief thought raised from their fog, comparing the cool, smooth texture of the glass to Astarion’s chest. The heat of Enver’s shuddering breath chased the thought from their mind as he pressed them forward, his hand sliding under their waistband and across their slick folds. His thumb swiped across them, teasing at their clit with a level of dexterity that could only be attributed to intimate knowledge.

Their heavy breathing was fogging the pane in front of them. When he finally pushed a finger inside them their forehead hit the glass, allowing their body to rock into his hand with the arch of their back. Enver’s breath was hot on their neck, his lips alternating between lingering kisses and sighing soft moans. His hand continued to work them over intimately, nothing about his strokes hurried, but carried by a desperate undercurrent that grew with every moment they were connected. The gauntlet left their hip, reaching up swiftly to take hold of their hair and pull their head backwards. The second it pierced their scalp the urge reared to life with a shriek.

TOUCHED YOU! TAINTED! Taintedtaintedtaintedtaintedtaintedtaintedtaintedtaintedtainted. No one can touch you! Rip, tear, cut, slice! Make him regret touching you!

Without a second thought the assassin drew their dagger, whipping around to bring it to his throat. The blade sliced into his skin, ruby droplets spilling over its silver edge. In turn the archduke’s gauntlet closed around their neck, pressing down just hard enough to silence the urge once more. Their pulse quickened, only heightened by the crimson trickling across their blade and his fingers still thrumming inside their cunt. Enver’s expression remained steady, consumed only by a ravenous desire.

Their body leaned into him again, allowing him deeper. His head fell against their own, pushing the blade deeper. “Enver…” they whimpered, their free hand gripping his hip, desperate for anything to hold them together. “Yes.” he groaned, pushing them so hard against the glass it felt as though it might break and send them both tumbling into the street. Somewhere distantly in their mind, the urge purred at the thought.

Their eyelids began to flutter, an overwhelming sensation crawling up their back. “Eyes on me, assassin.” he commanded. Their eyes flew open, locking their gaze with his intense stare. Time slowed for just a moment as their climax hit, eyes fixed on Enver’s, just before he pressed their mouths together. He rode their pleasure with his tongue in their mouth, their blade still stuck in his throat, prolonging it as long as he could.

When they finally came down from their high, he slowly pulled his hand from their trousers, softly brushing their soaked folds as he did. He held his covered hand up to the light, admiring it a moment before bringing it to his lips. As he did an image flashed across their empty mind. Astarion, hand covered in their blood as he swept it in his mouth.

The thought of Astarion brought them crashing back to their reality. Their hand slipped behind them, finding the latch to the window. The click drew Enver’s attention away from his hand. “You’re leaving?” he asked, making no motion to stop them. The assassin could only nod. He sighed softly. “Back to your camp?” he continued. Another nod. “Even knowing what you know now?” Enver pushed further, “Why?” The answer caught in their throat but they pushed through it to give him their reason.

“Astarion.” they whispered, his name falling out like a dead language.

With a low growl Enver pressed his mouth against theirs, forcing them to taste themselves on his tongue. They melted back against his body, the will to go faltering for a moment. Yet the hand behind their back pushed against the pane, opening the window and letting the cold rush in. Enver pulled back from them, disappointment clouding his eyes.

“Very well.” he said with a tut, “Return to your camp, fight against our plot, until you can no longer resist your true nature. I’m quite accustomed to waiting on you, assassin. Once you made me wait an entire month. You’ll find I am exceedingly patient.” He left a final kiss under their jaw before retreating to his desk with a lingering glance. The assassin slipped from the window, down the stone walls and back into the street.

He was sitting up when they crept back into camp, crimson eyes glowing in the dark. Astarion’s face painted a picture of anger, betrayal and concern all rolled into one. They considered avoiding him, returning to their bedroll as though nothing had changed, but his eyes drew them to him. “Hello darling.” they whispered, fighting past every instinct to run.

“We agreed you wouldn’t meet with him alone.” he hissed as they approached him. They could only nod, swallowing back the knot in their throat. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” Astarion snapped, “I came out of my trance to you gone and you’ve been gone for hours.” In the low light of the candles at his tent, they could see his hair wasn’t coiffed quite as perfectly as usual, his shirt slightly rumpled and an empty wine bottle at his feet. He had been waiting up for them, possibly as long as they had been gone.

They both stood in their second tension filled silence of the day before Astarion sighed and reached for them. They relished the cool touch of his hands, settling into the crook of his neck. Their body felt overheated, flushed, tense in spite of their release. Astarion’s body against them provided a certain safety, the reminder that if he had not interceded, the camp likely would have dispatched them long ago. However it lacked the warmth and comfort Enver’s had provided. The realization created an aching hole on their chest.

“I don’t enjoy being worried for you, you know?” he grumbled into their hair.

“I know,” they replied, “I’m sorry, I just had to know.”

Astarion sighed again, cold fingers tracing patterns across their back. “Did you at least get the answers you were looking for?” he asked.

The thought to lie flashed across their mind as they dredged up a partial truth, muttering something about how they weren’t really certain. Astarion gave them some sympathetic tuts, and as he pulled their face to his the urge began to sing.

Do you think that he can taste the tyrant on your tongue?

#gortash x durge #enver gortash #bg3 fanfiction #gortash #gortash smut #the dark urge #astarion #astarion x durge #gale dekarios #baldurs gate #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin

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pirateswhore · 11 months

Text

Her White Wolf

With Rumple gone, Belle is left to pick up the pieces on her own. Could a certain wolf help mend her heart? Mid season 4 AU (aka giving Belle the brain cells she needs and resolving my first queer disappointment on the show).

thank you @xarandomdreamx for being a lovely beta !

for - @caliburn-the-sword

Prologue and Chapter 1 published on Ao3:

Prologue - In the Aftermath.

It hurt like nothing had hurt before. Finding the gauntlet that she thought he had traded for her years ago. Using it, foolishly thinking it would simply point towards her, only to be led to the dagger. The dagger? Didn’t he give her the dagger? She picked it up and felt its heavy weightin her hand and an intense pull, nothing like she had ever felt before with the dagger she was given. A fake. Obviously. He lied to her, like he had so, so many times.

The next few minutes now feel like a blur. Appearing before him, seeing him holding Hook’s heart in his hand, squeezing it. Commanding him to take them to the town edge. Forcing him over it. His cowardly cries and pleas for forgiveness. And then he was gone, and she dropped on her knees and buried her face in her hands so she didn’t have to see him scramble away like a pathetic, injured dog.

The next thing she remembers is a hand and hook on each shoulder, urging her to stand up, leading her to the back seat of a yellow bug. She couldn’t quite remember or care for what they told her, spending the entire car ride back to her house staring out the window. They helped her out of the car, led her to her front door, told her something about reaching out if she needed help, and squeezed her shoulder in support. And then she walked into the flat, took her coat off and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her, hoping it was all an awful, awful dream that she would soon be waking up from.

“Hey, Belle.”

She lifted her head from the coffee cup in front of her to see Hook standing next to her table.

“Mind some morning company, love?”

She sniffled and nodded and he scooted into the chair opposite of hers. He ordered a coffee himself and they sat in silence for a while, her gaze dropping back down to the table.

“Thank you. For saving my life,” he spoke quietly, treading carefully through the conversation, “I wouldn't be here if you had not intervened the other day.” Days? Has it been that long? This was the first time she’d left the flat since… the incident, having spent all her time sobbing in bed. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze - gratitude, pain, remorse. He strained a little smile and tilted his head down slightly. She returned the smile and straightened her back, sniffling back a sob.

“Of course. The least I could do.” He reached out his hand to meet hers.

“I’m not sure how much of this you heard when Emma and I took you home, but just know that we are here for you, whatever you need, okay? You have both our talking phone numbers, we’re just a call away,” he squeezed her hand and she was barely holding back tears. How was he still so kind to her after all the crap her husband had done to him? When she was too blind to see through his lies and do anything to stop him for such a long time. She didn’t deserve any thanks from him, or anyone. She could have stopped all this so long ago. All she could do now was squeeze his hand back and nod.

They drank their coffee in silence, commenting about their day and plans every so often. She confessed her remorse over not stopping Rumple sooner and Killian stated how guilty he felt over doing his bidding, at which Belle shot him a smile.

“I'm sure we could find a way to release the faeries.”

“You think?”

“Sure! We have everything originally used to trap them, the hat, the dagger-”

“Me,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and continued.

“I'm certain Rumple has some books on it. Or maybe Regina does. We could set up a base camp in the library, it’s not like either one of us has anything better to do, and it could help us relieve some guilt.”

His smile dropped a little. “You’d be okay with working close to me?”

“Of course I would! Why shouldn't I?”

“I… I tried to kill you. I shot you.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she placed both hands over his. “Killian… I don’t hold that against you. You’ve changed since then. I’ve forgiven you.”

He smiled, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. They ordered breakfast and talked about the details of researching the hat and its magic and she actually managed to forget the pain her ex husband had caused her and others. Maybe she could make up for not seeing through his charade sooner. After they finished their food, they ran down to the sheriff's station and told Emma about their plan, who seemed proud and enthusiastic, and Regina, who seemed dismissive but still offered them help if they needed it. She still had keys to Rumple’s shop, so she asked Killian and Emma to take out any books they may find useful - she couldn't bring herself to go in there. Within the hour they were walking past Granny's again, stopping to pick up a to-go order for the lunch she had placed before they left.

She walked into the diner, seeing as Killian was trying to balance a stack of books with his hand and hook and couldn't carry anything else. Granny waved her down and said her order would be bagged in a minute, so Belle took a seat by the bar. She could hear people talking behind her, throwing a few glances her way before whispering amongst each other.

I heard she pushed him over the town line herself. Yea she finally came to her senses about him. Wonder if the pawn shop is still open? I feel sorry for her, he manipulated her.

The pity in their voices sounded almost derogative to her. She should have been smarter, seen through his lies way sooner, left him before he could hurt her and others the way he did. But she didn't. She gave him chance after chance only to be met with deceit and disappointment. She was stupid. She knows that now. She pushed the thoughts back, trying her best not to focus on them. Just pick up the order and go, Belle. Five minutes.

"Order for Gold?" A voice called out. She winced and made a mental note of annulling the marriage as soon as possible and getting back to her maiden name.

She looked up and her mouth dropped open a little. Ruby. She hadn't seen her since they all came back from the Enchanted Forest (granted, she was busy) and couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

"Oh- sorry, is it still Gold?" The woman handed her two paper bags.

"Yea… I need to go down to the mayor's office to revert it to my maiden name. It's good to see you again Ruby."

"Yeah, it's good to be back."

"You left?"

"For a little bit, I was feeling restless and hoping to find someplace I belong. That didn't really pan out so I'm back here. Plus Granny needs my help with the diner."

"Maybe we could catch up sometime soon."

"I'd like that."

They exchanged smiles and see-you's and Belle walked out of the diner and headed to the library with Killian. Moving on and picking up the pieces was going to be hard, but perhaps she didn't have to do it on her own.

________________________________________

Chapter I - Moving On

Ruby's return to Storybrooke brought with it mixed emotions. She didn't feel like she was part of the town, or fully accepted by the townsfolk. But there was nothing for her in the Enchanted Forest and here she at least had her grandma. Even if it meant working in the diner all her life, it was better than nothing.

Today, she was on delivery duty. Which meant driving around town in Granny's run-down delivery van all day, trying her best to not get the orders mixed up. She got back into the car and looked at the next delivery's notes: B. French, 2 grilled cheese sandwiches, 1 large fry serving, 1 medium onion ring serving, 2 sodas. Deliver to Town Library at 12:30pm

Belle.

The brunette had made herself a regular at the diner over the last week, stopping for coffee and a bagel every morning. Talking to her made the otherwise insufferable morning shift actually pleasant for Ruby, even if for just a few short minutes. Belle usually had her order to-go, saying that Killian was waiting for her at the library.

"What are you two up to in there anyways? Killian often doesn't come back to his room until after dinner time." Ruby had asked her once. The question made Belle stir in her seat for a moment.

"We're uh... We're trying to undo some of what Rumple had done. Starting with getting the faeries out of the hat."

"Oh! That's so sweet of you. Any progress?" Belle's face sank at that and she shook her head slightly. "Ah... well I'm sure you two will figure something out. You're smart."

If she didn't know any better, Ruby could've sworn she saw the blood rush to the other woman's cheeks as she mewled a small "thank you".

She rounded the corner and parked the van near the library. Ruby knew from the order that Killian was probably there as well, but a part of her hoped it would be just Belle. She couldn't pin down exactly why she wanted that and she didn't want to think too much into it. She walked to the library and pushed the heavy door open, calling out that the delivery was here. There was no response and after stepping inside, Ruby was met with an empty reception desk and no sign of either Belle or Killian. There was a corkboard in one corner with photos and notes and red string pinned into it.

"Belle? Hook?" she called out again and waited for an answer, focusing her ears to any sound they would pick up. She both liked and despised her heightened senses. They were useful most of the time but she could do without overhearing certain conversations and comments, especially the ones pertaining to her. Some people still feared her, feared she would turn into a wolf and ravage the diner's clientele at random.

She's been getting better at controlling it, or at least subduing it. She cut off a trim of her cloak and wore it on her at all times, in her hair, around her neck, or tucked into a pocket. It helped prevent any emotional outburst from triggering a transformation. She still hated the full moon however; being turned against her will and having to hide herself away all day, trying to contain the beast. Before the Moon rose into the sky at night, she was snappy, aggressive, every little inconvenience made her blood boil. The new moon, in turn, left her weak and lethargic and all she wanted to do was sleep. It had its ups and downs but she was doing her best at managing it.

Her ears picked up on the faintest of sobs and her head turned towards the back of the library. She left the order at the reception desk and made her way into the library, through the shelves and towards a back room. The sobs got louder and standing in front of the door with a ‘Employees Only sign, she could hear them clear as day.

"Belle..." she could tell it was her, the sweet perfume she wore lingering in the air. It hurt Ruby to hear her cry, and not just because it was so loud for her - Belle crying was not something Ruby ever wanted to see. "Belle?" she called out a little louder, tapping on the door. The sobs and whimpers stopped and the inside lock released, creaking the door open just a smidge. Ruby pushed it open wider and saw Belle hunkered down on the floor, sitting on a book stack with a tissue in hand. "Hey," she whispered out weakly, straightening her back but not looking up at the woman standing in the doorway.

Ruby crouched down, running her hand up and down the woman's shoulder, hoping to soother her. "I came in with your food and heard you crying, is everything okay?" Her eyes wandered to a book lying on the ground (it was unlike Belle to drop books, she treated them like sacred items). It was a Disney book, based on this world's version of "Beauty and the Beast" movie, featuring art and scenes from it. Ruby glanced back at Belle and urged her with a small smile.

"I found the book while sorting something," she started, "and it just... it hurts. That's how we were supposed to go, he was supposed to change and be a better man because of love. But I wasn't enough for him, no matter what I did."

"Oh Belle." Ruby moved closer and sat down next to Belle, putting an arm around her. "Some stories are just that - stories. And some stories have different versions, in yours it simply didn't work out." That caused another sob to escape Belle's chest and Ruby's clenched at the sound. "I'm so sorry he hurt you, but you can't put all the blame on yourself. When we love someone, we do our best to look past their flaws and see the best in them."

"Even if there isn't any good?"

"Belle, you have the wonderful tendency to see the good in anyone. Please don't let what Rumple did discourage you from it."

"What if I'm wrong about them again?"

"You weren't wrong about me, were you?" That seemingly calmed Belle's crying so Ruby went on. "When the entire town was dead set on hunting me down, you stayed by me. I'll never forget that.

Belle went silent for a while as Ruby continued to rub her shoulder. She hadn't noticed how close to one another they were, how their thighs pressed together or how good Ruby smelled until now. She also didn't realise that, with the way her head was hung, she was staring directly down the she-wolf's cleavage. Blood rushed to her cheeks but she made no attempt to move away, choosing instead to just lift her head to meet Ruby's eyes. She smiled down at her but concern was still painted on her face.

Belle had always been fond of her. She hadn't forgotten that Ruby had helped her in the past, and she was forever grateful for it. Ruby was fun, outgoing, openly flirtatious and spontaneous at times - all the things Belle had trouble expressing. She'd spent too long suppressing who she was and what she wanted in favour of coaxing Rumple to the side of good, hoping to calm the beast down long enough for the man to come out, thinking that, if she appeared more appealing than magic, he would give it up for her. Some good that had brought her.

"You good?" she finally asked, cocking her head to the side slightly. It reminded Belle of those videos of dogs, tilting their heads when intrigued by something. It made sense, she figured, considering Ruby was part wolf.

"I just don't know where to go from here," Belle confessed, "I spent so long doing everything I could to make myself good enough for Rumple. And now that he's gone? I have no idea what to do with myself."

Ruby's smile widened at that and she stood up. "There's time for you to figure that out. You won't have to do it on your own, you have friends to help you through it." She extended a hand and helped Belle up.

"Emma and Killian have been very supportive. It feels like they're the only two people in town who don't pity or resent me over Rumple."

"Wrong," Ruby stated. "There’s at least three people who feel that way."

"You?"

"Of course, silly. You're dear to me, would I have helped you if that wasn't the case?" Belle opened her mouth to say something, but simply nodded in agreement.

Ruby wasn't lying, but she wasn't being completely honest either - Belle was dear to her, but it went deeper than just friendly affection. If she had to put a name to it, it would probably be 'crush', although that felt too inane. From the moment she met her, she felt a pull towards Belle, a primal desire to help and protect her igniting deep inside her. Something about her made Ruby's heart dance; the way her face lit up when she was excited, how her eyes sparkled with an ever present hope she had for people, her undying loyalty to loved ones and her inability to give up on them. Ruby admired her for that but it hurt her too, seeing the physical embodiment of sunshine be rained on and pushed around time and time again. The love and support she had for others abused and mistreated.

It was exactly that love and devotion that had her running back to Rumple, believing all his lies and promises. Ruby respected that, she knew that Belle truly did love him (even if, in her mind, that love was misplaced and ill-appreciated) so she never made a move. However, now with Rumple gone and Belle left to once again, pick up the pieces, Ruby wished for nothing more than to be there for her. She knew she'd have to tread carefully so as to not come off as predatory, seeking to take advantage of Belle's heartbroken state.

Ruby smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Belle's ear. "I'm here for you, whatever you need. Just as I was before."

"Thank you, Ruby. And I for you, alright?"

The two smiled at each other and for a moment Ruby felt like leaning just a little bit closer, closing her eyes and just throwing caution to the wind (she wasn't a stranger to that), but the ring of Belle's phone whisked that daydream right away. She glanced down at it, pouting at the message.

"Killian says he got caught up sailing with Henry so he's running late, but he'll be here in a few minutes."

Fuck, Ruby had forgot all about her delivery duty. Granny was going to kill her.

They made their way to the front of the library, Belle checked to see if the orders were correct and handed Ruby the money for it."

"I should get back to delivering orders, but please, Belle, know that I'm here for you. Don't be a stranger, reach out whenever." She reached out and squeezed her hand, smiling at her. Belle smiled back and pulled her into a hug, squeezing tightly. Ruby's cheeks reddened, surprised at the sudden (but very welcomed) contact.

Walking back to the van, Ruby couldn't help but feel warmth radiating off of her entire body.

#chantecler writing #red beauty #ouat #ruby x belle #ruby lucas #belle french #these bitches gay #ouat fanfiction

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pain-suffering-even · 9 months

Text

types of weapons the hunters would use pt. 1

the korean s rank hunters first. this is largely inspired by... the extreme little variation of weapons ive seen lmao there was so much potential... but alas its up to me.

choi jongin:

a whip. it's about as dramatic as he is and i feel like the crackling of it like fire... sort of. it also would just looks sick, and it's clear he uses weapons (from the gauntlet he wore in that one arc) so why not something ranged for a ranged-style like mage? and, i won't lie, i was probably influenced by the ren faire whip guy lmao... i mean, if that level of drama doesn't scream jongin i don't know what does. he jumped out a plane during jeju too

baek yoonho:

his fists seem accurate for him. if i had to choose, a hammer maybe? something reinhardt-esque. it also adds to his slight tank-like abilities and fighting style. reinhardt is like... 7 feet tall too so this hammer would be huge in comparison to yoonho lmao... or, maybe something less tech-y and more of a simple sledgehammer, like harley's

min byungyu:

he studied for the test. we see him have a mace thing so that counts. interesting that a healer chooses a blunt object to fight with... pretty slow way to die, but it allows knock-outs instead of kills. would've been super interesting to see him fight more with it

lim taegyu:

similar to byungyu, he has a unique weapon, a pretty cool looking bow that has an interesting design. but since he's a ranger class hunter, i think he might have a throwing spear as well or something similar. something that uses aim, and is basically just a bigger arrow, but still a ranged attack style

cha haein:

i do love her sword (and her pickaxe) but a scimitar or glaide would be cool (partially inspired by xiaolong from lookism and the guan yu version of the bident from the hades game). it's also interesting that she seems to have a very european sword rather than the usual south-eastern ones we see throughout the draw sword guild - i'm gonna guess it's loot from a dungeon from the way the hilt looks... that should be an interesting story to hear how she got it lmao

woo jinchul:

i think a weaponized shield suits him. something like the chaos or zagreus' shield from the hades games - chaos specifically because of the purple. something about how he's a protector but isn't afraid to choose violence or get his hands dirty...

sung jinwoo:

he's a walking weapons arsenal are you kidding me. he's got literally everything. he cycles through 7 weapons in the manhwa and has collected even more - he gives igris that electric longsword. raska's fang, knight killer, the pair demon king daggers and then the pair of kamish's wrath daggers thomas gives him.

well, anyway, that the korean s-rank hunters (plus jinchul)'s arsenal upgraded. might add on more if i find more cool weapons :)

#solo leveling #only i level up #head canons #long post #choi jongin #baek yoonho #min byungyu #lim taegyu #cha haein #woo jinchul #sung jinwoo

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professionalwaterbender · 9 months

Note

Hey, out of curiosity, do you have any ATLA ocs, and if you do, for your main oc[s], lore?

Also, any hc's about Azula, cuz I think she's my favorite character in the series :DDD

AYYY PUMPKIN LOVE YOU <33

Hmm,

One of my fav headcanons is that Zuko and Azula were very very close as kids, even closer than normal sibling pairs But then Ozai began to mold Azula, causing her to become distant, and even cruel enough to the point she’d hurt Zuko just to gauge his reactions

------------

ATLAVERSE OC LORE

you are going to regret ever asking about my oc lore :D

okay okay so basically

We have 7 ocs (<33), all based in a modern AU for ATLA. Its in todays world, so we have all of the tech of today. In this world, benders are the minority and the subject of a lot of prejudice. Some people love em, most hate them because they’re far more powerful than the average human and everyone is threatened by them. A few smart people make friends with the benders (big brain) but most everyone is terrified by them (peasants).

In Tabs' words:

"Benders in the modern world are a minority and are oppressed and demonized. Any person known to have bending powers are locked in jail, killed, or sent to illegal bending arenas to fight to the death.

The Avatar spirit has been missing for generations. There is no hope, there is no brighter future for benders.

The Avatar is gone. Lost.

Until he was found in the body of a man named Revon.

Revon, forced to hide for the entirety of his life, seeks not to bring benders and nonbenders together, but to eradicate every last one of the benders so that he alone holds all the power.

He will unite the world, under his rule.

That’s where a small rebel group, known as the Steel Hearts, comes into play. A vigilante group dating back to the times of Avatar Korra, it is led by a young waterbender. Once, her parents led the group, before they disbanded under mysterious circumstances.

For five years, the waterbender has languished in hiding. Once a formidable assassin and a powerful bloodbender, now only a tender of a tea house.

Her tranquil life is flipped on its head one day, when an airbender running from her past seeks the waterbender out, begging her to pick up the pieces of the decades old rebellion and put them back together.

And here is where our story truly begins."

Put simplistically,

nonbender government: bending is bad kill all benders avatar: non-benders are bad, benders are bad, kill all of the benders so i can be the only bender and threaten the non-benders the group: hey what the fuck

The characters are based off of my best friends, the people in the infamous Infinity Gauntlet GC, and the adults are based off our teachers (they love it i swear)

Characters below the cut!

Steel Hearts

Kara [she/her] (me) -> Waterbender, Bloodbender, trained assassin, weapon of choice: throwing knives <33, Orion's S/O

Akira [she/they] (@tabsters) -> Firebender, Lightningbender, (lore to be revealed), weapon of choice: pistol, Rexen's S/O

Rexen [they/them] (@iirexenii) -> Earthbender, Metalbender (second to only Ren), (lore to be revealed), weapon of choice: dual scythes, Akira's S/O

Ren [he/him] (@halfghostlyfires) -> Earthbender, can literally bend every sub-element, most powerful earthbender right after Toph Beifong, resident rich guy #1, weapon of choice: Kyoketsu-shoge (“KNIFE ON A ROPE” according to tabs)

Amara [she/her] (@serenaisproblem) -> Airbender, hacker, weapon of choice: pocketknife (violence when she has to)

Artemis [he/him] (this is the Artemis that Tabs and I refer to) -> Waterbender, resident rich guy #2, weapon of choice: handheld dagger (only resorts to violence when he has to)

Zephyr [they/them] (@im-just-here-for-the-comics-r18) -> Non-bender, absolute badass and will not hesitate to kill, weapon of choice: a goddamn flame thrower

Akio [he/him] (@tdog451) -> Firebender, one of the most powerful in the group, weapon of choice: also throwing knives and his firebending, if you haven't guessed by now, this is Kara's lost lost twin brother

Orion [he/him] (@yourlocalapplejuice) -> Airbender, doesn't do violence except to protect those he loves too, weapon of choice: airbending, Kara's S/O

Villains:

Revon: based off of my humanities teacher, has some history with Kara (we literally dont know what yet), the Avatar and Kara’s direct opponent, weapon of choice: throwing knives

Vexx: based off of no one because Vexx is creepy and weird and none of us like him, weapon of choice: literally any kind of knife and gun, Artemis’ direct opponent

Lilith: also not based off of anyone because she is terrifying, runs an illegal bending arena, both Rexen’s and Akira’s direct opponent, weapon of choice: gun

Those are the three main villain as of now, we’re still developing Amara’s and Zephyr’s

Backstories:

Kara: parents were assassins, bloodbenders, and leaders of the Steel Hearts, passed that down to Kara. Her parents ended up killing each other (no explanation yet <33)

Akira and Rexen: both were kidnapped at a young age and forced to fight in a bending arena. Rexen escaped first, but was forced to leave Akira behind. Akira finally escaped, met up with Kara's gang, then finds Rexen, and now those two make out at every opportunity after 6 months of being apart

Ren and Artemis: their stories are intertwined. Both were best friends in their youth, but Artemis’ parents being killed led to a rift in their friendship (if you want more on this specific one, tabs and I have a ficlet)

Ren: abusive parents, rich dude, but runs away, ends up getting kidnapped and arrested, his parents have put out a bounty on him

Artemis: actual loving parents, but they’re dead now (heheh) so artemis is forced to live on his own at 12, ends up being successful but chooses to look for his parents’ killer

Amara: oldest kid and has to take care of her siblings. After striking a deal with some pretty shady people, amara shoves her family in a safe place and runs. She is the first member of the steel hearts, and she is the one who encourages Kara to restart it

(We’re still figuring out Zephyr’s backstory lmao but I will put it in here soon)

YEAH THATS ABOUT IT IF YALL WANT SOME OF THE FICS ASK TABS OR ME AND WE’LL BE VERY VERY HAPPY TO SHARE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA THANKS FOR THE ASK, PUMPKIN!!!!!!!!!!!!

#Pumpkin asks!#atlaverse oc lore #eeeeeeeeEEEEEEE i love ranting about my children thank you thank you

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