#ive seen the way he talks as an ascended and by gods it is so wildly different than who he is usually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

commander-rahrah · 5 months

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Talking to the Moon: Part VIII

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~5950 Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of trauma, abuse and possible death, some borrowed in game dialogue, suggestive, slight NSFW, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here part VI: here VII: here

Summary: Set in end stages of Act III. Astarion spends the day alone to gather his thoughts and prepare himself on how to make yet another confession - his love for you.

Notes:

Hi folks ♡ This is my take on non-ascended Astarion's romance scene in Act III, where I've continued to give him some more scenes between the Cazador fight and the romance scene -- because this poor vampire needs some time to decompress and breath and think! I daydreamed about a few of these scenes, and the dialogue was stuck in my brain and played on a loop until I finally got to write it down! I hope you enjoy the chapter and the culmination of all the little, patient moments between Astarion and GN!Reader/Tav that lead to this scene for them. I think there will probably only be a few more chapters for this series too! Crazy!!!

Thank you so much for reading! As always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

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Astarion’s pale fingers were twitching against the inside of his palms as he studied the busy cobblestone street.

Pairs — that’s all he could see. The pair holding hands as they weaved through the crowd. A man gently tugging a woman to his side, out of the way of an incoming carriage, before tipping their heads back and laughing. Two men flashing each other nervous, flirty smiles as they picked out rings together. His eyes had been drawn to pairs for months now — ever since he’s realized he done the unthinkable and actually fallen for you. But usually they were pairs that he could only assume the stories of. Couples that were long gone, dead and forgotten about. Skeletons with intertwined fingers, or love letters from decades ago long lost to the Shadowlands. He hadn’t seen couples with futures — honest to god living, breathing, hopeful pairs. Whispering and sneaking glances and kisses. Gentle casual touches as they picked out fresh fruit and matching jewelry. People so full of hope and love. It made his half-dead heart ache for you. Wherever you were right now. He had remained behind today, not quite ready to face the world as the supposed “heroes” you all had become to the city. No, he wanted more time to figure out what all this meant for him. For you.

You had offered to stay with him after his morning feeding, your voice low and gentle as the others still slept. But he insisted you go — as much as that little voice in his head argued to not let you go. Someone had to be there to make sure nobody took advantage of your kind, selfless heart.

But if he had another moment with you he would probably blurt out some rambling, befuddled love confession. Which isn’t the way Astarion wanted to do things.

You both had done everything so backwards from the beginning. He wouldn’t mess this up too.

So, here he was — meandering through the busy market of Baldur’s Gate. Eyeing flowers and jewelry and goods as if they could adequately describe how he felt about you.

Roses and chocolates and dramatic passion in bed. That’s what he thought this was supposed to be. What he’d read it felt like, what he’d faked it to be.

But no.

You were sweet lilies and midnight orchids, honey and delicate pastries, the deep night sky and moonlight. You with your gentle, patient and maddening touches that turned everything he knew upside down.

Astarion never really got any of it — even with his broken concept of love. He didn’t understand the point of it.

Because it was never with you.

No, no flowers or chocolates or jewelry would really capture how he felt. None of it could dare come close to explaining the fluttering, buzzing, electric feeling that went through him at just the thought of you.

He wouldn’t rely on theatrics either — no perfectly placed blanket and bottle of wine in the middle of the woods. No practiced lines or trained movements that were practically a ritual at this point.

The vampire would speak from the heart. His cold, half-dead heart that was… well, feeling quite the opposite as of late.

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, the vampire took the long way back to the Elf Song Tavern — relishing the feeling of the sun heating his white hair, freckling the back of his neck. Memorizing the sights in the daytime colours, the different sounds of the busy streets.

Who knew how much longer he’d be able to take them in. That was part of what he gave away.

Another thing to come to terms with.

At least he got to make the decision for himself this time. Unlike most of his life.

The worn wooden stairs of the tavern creaked underneath Astarion as he went up to the group’s room. He marched through the ornate double doors before any nervousness or doubting thoughts slipped in at the prospect of seeing you.

But the room was quiet — the only sound a small crackling fire that must have been freshly set by housekeeping. There was no usual bustle of the dozen of you all — everyone still out in the city, doing whatever quest or do-good-ing someone insisted on today.

His pointed ear quirked slightly at a sound, and he turned his head towards it. The balcony doors were wide open, the sound of something lightly thumping the glass pane of the doors reached his ears. But he couldn’t see anything from here.

Moving heel to toe carefully to not announce himself, Astarion craned to see who it was before letting out a small sigh of relief. It was Karlach — her red tail hitting the glass softly as it swished back and forth. The rest of her was leaned up against the railing, with something hanging out of her mouth.

He let out a fake cough to get her attention, and she craned her head over her muscular shoulder to look at him. Her clawed fingers pulled a cigar out from her mouth, her lips pulling into a grin. “Hiya Fangs.”

Ugh, cigars. Astarion loathed the disgusting things — they reeked. “Karlach,” He greeted with a nod, leaning against the frame of the balcony door away from the smoke. “Back already?”

“Ah, never left.” She admitted a little sheepishly. “Wasn’t quite ready to face the world just yet.”

Right, Gortash. Gods, he’d been so wrapped up in everything that had happened to him that he’d almost forgotten. She’d asked for time to decompress after all of that too. Not that he blamed her.

The barbarian had even pulled herself together for his benefit — she was one of the first to jump to his defense when he announced to the group it was time to face his old Master.

He wondered if she got as much catharsis from killing Gortash as he did from killing the ancient vampire.

Probably not. Even with the lord dead she would still die. Not like him.

No, he'd get to live with that, like this, forever.

Sometimes he couldn’t decide what was worse. Cursed to die after finally seeing the sun and trees and ocean again. Or cursed to live forever with only fading memories of those things after longing for them for two hundred years.

It was a difficult question to answer. And now even more impossible with the added variable of his love for you — his very mortal, very breakable lover.

Astarion realized he had been silent for way too long then socially acceptable and blinked his red eyes back to reality.

Karlach had put the cigar out now thankfully, tossing her black and red hair over her shoulder as she braced her elbows on the metal railing. The rogue stepped forward to join her, pushing his hip against the railing as he looked down to the streets he had just been walking.

“I’m proud of you fangs, I hope you know that."

He raised a white brow at her as she continued. "I know it wasn’t easy… turning down what you did. But gods, are we glad you did.”

The vampire took a steadying breath, “I know… Now I just have to live with it. I’m not sure what will happen now, or once the tadpoles are gone.” He admitted with a twinge of fear in his voice.

Her amber eyes betrayed her, flickering down before she forced a smile on her face. “Whatever happens, you won’t be alone.”

“For now. I’m sure everyone will be called off to their own business." He ignored the giant, waving red flag of her impending doom. "And besides, they’re bound to get sick of avoiding the sun just for me after sometime…”

“What, Giggles?" She scoffed, "You have to know they aren’t going anywhere by now, Fangs.”

His heart squeezed tightly, “How can you be so sure?”

“Astarion. They talk about you like you put the stars in the fuckin’ sky.”

He swallowed the lump crawling up his throat. Not only had he finally noticed you actually did love him, apparently he was one of the last ones to see it too.

Karlach said it with so much conviction, that even if he hadn’t come to the same conclusion last night… he certainly would have now.

“If you’ll have them, they’ll be there.” She smiled tenderly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. She reached out her large red hand, squeezing his shoulder before she grimaced. “Oh fuck, sorry!” She wrenched her hand back, “Touching! I forgo—“

“It’s ok, I didn’t mind that.”

“Still, shoulda asked. Gods, I gotta get better at that. Just couldn’t do it for so long, heh—“

Astarion gave her a sad smile, nodding his head.

If he was honest he used to loathe Karlach. Not that she deserved it. But she was handed shit cards just like him, and she insisted on being so fucking bubbly and positive and optimistic. It drove him mental.

And the touching. Gods, the touching.

In the beginning how she moaned and mourned physical touch, all while Astarion felt like he was going to chip a molar if another person touched him again.

And then the pure elation on her face when she got her engine upgraded and could hug, kiss... grab people’s wrists and shoulders and fingers so casually. But Astarion’s face had to be a perfect, numb mask so he could hide the fact that bile was rising in his throat and his skin was on fire anytime someone grabbed him.

He hadn’t meant to hate her. And he knew he didn’t now. Actually, he felt like he was already mourning his friend a little bit. He would miss her.

“Thank you,” Astarion’s said softly.

Karlach’s eyebrows raised high on her forehead, a little stunned at the gratitude. “For what?”

“For being my friend. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“You deserved it, Fangs. The whole time.” Her voice was unusually soft and low, like a whisper. “Every good thing that’s happened to you — including them. And there’s more to come, I know it.”

The smiles they shared after was bittersweet.

Hope in times like these was a dangerous thing.

• • •

Your shoulders instantly relaxed as your eyes settled on Astarion’s form. He was lounging near the fire in your room at the tavern, a a book face down over his leg with his knee acting as a placeholder. His striking red eyes watched your every step as you swayed on tired feet over to him.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The vampire said softly, looking up at you from the settee.

“May I?”

His pale hand tapped the spot next to him. Your legs all but gave out as you sat down on the soft cushions, your muscles finally finding some relief after your long day. Before you could you even think to ask him, Astarion was wrapping his arm around your side – pushing you into him.

You relished in the feeling, losing yourself in his scent and the feel of the pads of his fingers on your soft waist. Then his strong nose was pressed into your neck, pressing the smallest of kisses to the sensitive skin that caused a wave of emotions to crash through you all at once. “You’re alright?” He asked quietly in your ear, before pulling away to look you over.

“Alright. Tired, glad to be back.” You gave him a meek smile, “And you, love?” You couldn’t help but study him, your eyes falling to his other hand that was not holding you – playing with the stitches on the sides of his pants. The anxious habit had made him go through a couple pairs of pants by now.

“Yes. No. Hmm… It’s hard to verbalize.” He finally admitted.

Your eyes locked and a silent conversation transpired in those seconds. His blinks and flash of his red eyes was confirmation enough. “I understand.”

He licked his pink lips as he slid his hand from around you, his fingertips dragging across the small of your back as he instead laced his pale fingers in yours. “I do feel guilty that I ended up lounging around here in the sun while the rest of you were out being heroes…” Then he swallowed, staring out to the windows just beginning to turn golden pink with the slowly setting sun. “I guess I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?”

You gave him a sad smile, feeling your chest tighten at the look on his face. “I think you did the right thing. Stopping it. Stopping him.”

Never again would you say that name. Never again would you give the bastard vampire master an ounce of power, even in death.

“I know. So do I. Though that doesn't mean it stings any less.” You felt your eyes burn as his voice broke slightly, getting thick with emotion. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands on your lap, “I'll be with you either way. I hope you know that.”

“I think I do,” Astarion said, his eyes turning soft and round as he looked over at you. Then he rolled his neck with attitude, a smirk spreading across his lips. “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

You thought about your adventures today with your companions and couldn’t help but agree. “We do love to find trouble, don’t we?”

A small chuckle escaped him, shaking you both slightly on the settee. Then he took a steadying breath, his fingers tightening their hold on yours for a moment. “There's something I'd like to show you, if that's alright. Something out in the city.”

Your brows met in the middle, “What is it?”

“Something I haven't shown anyone else,” He admitted with an odd look on his face. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” You agreed, squeezing his cold hand back gently.

• • •

“This way, it's not far.” Astarion said softly, his hand stretched back as he led you forward.

It took all of his willpower to stop his other hand from trembling as you both walked through the graveyard. The over-grown grass and long forgotten tombs were bathed in the moonlight from above, casting shadows across the space.

He risked a glance behind him to look at you, but you were as quiet and composed as ever as you took in the sights around you. The vampire had never seen you be so quiet as you had been in the last few days – he knew it was for his benefit. Usually his lovely moon was as sharp-tongued as he was, as eloquent and flowery as Wyll or Gale. But no, these past few days you had been listening and watching so patiently. You’d given him both comfort and space in a way he’d never thought possible.

He would have to add that to the never ending list of why he loved you.

His half-dead heart crawled up his throat as he approached the familiar sight of his own tombstone. It seemed so simple just sitting here in the overgrown grass – clearly untouched all these centuries later. It had held so much power over him for so long — this haunted place that was marked as the beginning of this existence.

This hole in the ground. This slab of stone.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.” He croaked, his fingers slipping from yours to form fists beside him. “Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting.”

His master’s name made his mouth feel wrong, his tongue heavy and swollen.

“From that day on I was his. Until yesterday.”

“You were never his.” You said quietly, “Whatever he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock.” His bottom lip trembled, before he steadied himself. Turning to the side, he moved his gaze from the tombstone to you. “For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was, lay here dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

You took a deep breath, looking at him with your eyes wide, “And what do you want?”

Astarion’s heart stuttered, he was doing this. That’s what the whole point of all of this was, wasn’t it? Why he had that nervous fluttering in his stomach all day. “You... I want you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do!” His throat worked soundlessly, before he spoken again. “I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that.”

“You won't. Whatever comes next, I've got you.” You said it so softly, but with so much conviction he couldn’t help but believe you.

Then your mouth spread into a radiant smile that he couldn’t help but match. “Thank you.”

It took all of him to tear his eyes away from you. “Well... I should probably fix this.” Kneeling down, he pulled a sheathed dagger from his boot. He took the tip of it, pushing it into the weathered stone as he added the current year. The year he woke up from the evil nightmare that was his life. The year he met you.

Sheathing the dagger, he fell back onto his heels and he admired his work. You dropped down beside him, close enough he could feel your warmth radiating around you. And you were so quiet again, giving him time to process.

“I've been dead in the ground for long enough, it's time to try living again. With everything that life has to offer.” Taking a deep breath, he swiveled on his knees until his was face to face with you. The moon was backlit behind your head, illuminating your silver hair with an ethereal halo. His fingertips couldn’t resist reaching out and tracing the soft line of your cheek.

Taking a steadying breath, he let his hand fall back onto his lap. His lashes casting a shadow down his face as he looked down for a moment before he spoke again. “Months ago, on that bed in the last light inn... you asked me how I saw you.”

You nodded as you remembered, “You told me you needed time.”

“Ask me again.”

You licked your lips, “How do you see me?”

“I look at you, and I see everything. The moon and stars. The world. A future.” His pale fingers reached out for yours, intertwining them carefully. “I was petrified when you asked me before… because I knew, even back then. But I’m not afraid anymore.

Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance. I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” Astarion confessed before his other hand pale grabbed the side of your face, holding you steady as he pressed his lips to yours gently — to give you time to pull away.

The vampire didn’t have to wait very long for you to kiss him back. Your lips meeting his almost instantly, your hands pressing tenderly into the lapels of his jacket to hold you steady as you both balanced on your knees. Your soft lips, your scent, the feeling of your fingers bunched on his clothes — you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever had.

You pulled away just long enough to whisper back in a husky voice, “I love you Astarion, irrevocably so.”

A feeling gripped his heart so tightly, spread through every pore and crevice of his half-dead body that he felt it bring him back to life. Astarion had been manipulated, coerced, abused and forced into acquiescence for over two hundred years. He had felt the physical control that his Master had over his body and soul. But this — you, you possessed him another way he had never felt. He could barely process it, let alone articulate the way you were making him feel right now. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to get the words out.

Instead silver lined the bottoms of his eyes and his bottom lip trembled, “What ever could I have done to deserve such a beautiful creature as you, my heart.”

But you shook your head, your silver hair bouncing with the movement, “I have never once questioned my love for you. You… you’ve never made me feel like I’m too loud, too much. You made me feel easy to love — and you did make me feel loved, long before you ever said the words. You make me feel like my blessing is something to be grateful for… not a thorn in your side. That I’m not a burden.”

“A burden? Never!” Anger flared through him at the people who made you feel this way. “A burden is something forced upon, against your will. I know that feeling. But you – you aren’t a burden. I choose you. Do not dilute yourself, or hide yourself away. Not from me.”

It was your turn to have happy tears fill your eyes now, your freckled nose crinkling as you smiled wide, “I love you.”

“Say it again.” He breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. His red eyes flickered down so he could watch your lips move and form around the words.

“I love you.”

A broken noise escaped from Astarion’s throat as he grabbed onto you. Euphoria and arousal and light flooded through him like never before. “Hells, the things you do to me. Just those words alone.” He hissed as his hand slid down the back of your neck, pulling you into him so he could kiss you more deeply then ever before.

Gods, did he want you. He wanted to taste every inch of you, re-discover your entire body. He wanted you breathy and panting as he swirled you with his mouth. He wanted his name on your lips and your hands on his body. He’d waited for this, waited for you for centuries.

Astarion gently pushed you into the long, soft grass and your eyes widened slightly with surprise. He lowered himself carefully on top of you, his hands bracketing either side of your head before asking in a whisper, “Is this okay?”

You nodded with a swallow, before opening your mouth. “Yes. And for you?”

“Gods, yes.” He purred into your ear before pressing his body flush to yours and capturing your lips again. Almost instantly one of your hands was at the nape of his neck, swirling his curls and massaging his scalp to the rhythm of your kisses.

The vampire slid his knee between your legs, stretching them apart so he could settle in between them deliciously — a hand moving underneath your shoulder to support you as you stretched your neck up to keep up with your kisses. He felt himself harden in his leather pants, rutting in the soft muscle of your thigh to get any kind of friction. Then his other pale hand slipped between the two of you and cupped between your own legs, feeling your arousal through the thin fabric of your trousers.

“Astarion,” You hummed in approval, bucking into his hand that sparked the fire in his belly to heat even more. He buried his face into your neck, nipping and sucking the delicate skin before pressing his tongue and lips to it in a soothing touch. If he didn’t stop here, he wasn’t sure if he could. The whole point of this was to do things the right way...

As if the cosmos heard his thoughts, the sounds of crunching steps nearby caused both of you to pull away in a flurry. You were both breathless, your chests heaving and skin flushed from your touch. Then quiet chuckles escaped you, shaking your bodies as your foreheads touched.

“Do you see what you do to me?” Astarion whispered, before detangling himself from you. You brushed each other off, before standing up and moving into the shadow of a nearby tree as incoming torch lights suddenly appeared.

“Hello?” A gruff voice called out, the clink of chained armor ringing as they walked closer to where you two were just laying.

“It was probably a ghost, Ryder.” Another voice teased from behind.

City guards. Well, that could have been awkward.

“OooOOOooo,” They mocked again.

“Eh! Stop it, you know this place gives me the creeps.” The first voiced huffed, before turning on their heel. “You owe me a pint for that.”

Astarion waited until their voices and footsteps faded away before peering around the large tree trunk. Another laugh escaped him, “What was it that I was just saying about you and trouble?”

You shook your head but joined his laughter, “That one is all your fault, you instigator.”

“Pardon me for finding you absolutely irresistible.” He licked his lips as he stared at yours, before blinking his red eyes back to reality. “Now what, my love?”

“Perhaps, now I can show you something I’ve never shown anyone else?”

He quirked a white eyebrow before letting a smirk spread, “Lead the way.”

Leaving the graveyard behind, you walked with your fingers intertwined and stepped in time with each other as you wandered down the cobblestones streets of Baldur’s Gate. You led the way confidently, a soft smile on your face as you snuck glances over to him. It made his heart thrum and stomach twist.

As you turned the corner onto a residential street, Astarion’s steps slowed. He looked around, blinking as he realized, “I know this street.”

You cocked your head as you kept walking, pulling him along with you, “Do you?”

“Quite well. I would use it to get to the little tavern nearby as a bit of a shortcut. But there’s this lovely little townhouse, tiny. It’s lavender with—”

“Flower boxes?” You finished for him.

“Yes, lilies.” Astarion walked forward before stopping in front of the townhouse. The narrow house was sandwiched between two others, painted a pastel lavender that shined brilliantly in the moonlight compared to the darker colours around it. “This one,” He pointed a long, pale finger at it.

You frowned slightly as you looked at the planter boxes, “The poor flowers.”

He followed your gaze, “They will bloom again, I’m sure of it.” Stepping closer to the little townhouse, he pointed up to the second floor window. “You know, there’s a piano in there.”

You perked up at that, your eyes darting from him to the window at back, “How do you know that?”

“I would hear it sometimes, faintly. Soft little melodies.”

“Really?”

A small smile spread across Astarion’s lips as he remembered the tunes — how sometimes he would stop underneath the window just out of sight in the dim light of the evening and listen. The harsh tug of his master’s orders would usually snap at him for the delay, but it was worth it to hear the joyful sounds.

“Every so often they would sing too. Such a lovely voice. I actually… l used to come this way when I was in the area — hoping I would hear them.” He admitted, wringing his hands together in front of him. “And I would try so hard to commit it to memory, so I could remember it when... Well, you know when.”

You looked over to him with the softest line between your brows. “Astarion, when was this?”

“Oh, time is so hard for me.” He tapped his chin as he thought, “Recently though— the last year or so I’d say.“

You worked your throat silently before pulling out a silver key out of your pocket, holding it out in front you. “When I realized I was going to stay in Baldur’s Gate, I started looking for a more permanent place to stay instead of the inns.”

You turned on your heel, and began to climb the narrow stairs on the side of the townhouse, “I saw an ad in the paper about a tiny room available at a discounted rate...” You slid the silver key into the painted wooden door that matched the rest of the house, and pushed it open. “Because the previous tenant had passed away and left behind a piano that was would cost them too much to move.”

Astarion followed you in wordlessly, his mouth falling open as you continued speaking. Until both of you stood inside the tiny lavender townhouse. It wasn’t very lavish — it was actually quite quaint, a little outdated. Some of the furniture looked well-loved and worn — a double bed pushed in the corner underneath the window to make space for the large upright piano taking up the majority of the room.

“I thought the piano was a selling feature, I loved it… I would play almost every night.” You said breathlessly, spinning around to face the vampire again.

His red eyes stayed on you, his voice thick with emotion. “It was you?”

“One year I’ve rented this room.” You admitted.

“It was you.” He breathed, crossing to you in a few steps and grabbing onto your fingers gently. The soft fingers that could play the piano so beautifully. “Play— play for me?” He asked, gesturing over to the dusty piano.

Your lips curled up as you nodded, pulling out the cracked leather piano bench and sitting before it. You stretched your fingers over the ivory keys, the dim light from the windows catching on the rings adorning them. Astarion could tell you must have taken lessons, your posture almost perfect as you straightened your back at the edge of your seat. He felt a tugging in the back of his mind of someone trying to teach him the same once, hundreds of years ago as a child.

But then your fingers pressed into the keys, and the emotion that crossed your face could not have been taught. You closed your eyes as you struck the first few chords, not needing to look as your hands glided between positions.

He was transfixed watching you, listening to you. Somehow you picked the tune that he remembered most clearly — the one that would slip into his mind the most when he was desperately looking for any kind of reprieve. It was more beautiful then he remembered, his memory of it was really a disservice to how exquisite it truly was.

Your posture laxed slightly as you began to hum, harmonizing with the melody you played on the piano and your voice drew Astarion in. He stood behind you, his fingers trailing the ends of your silver hair as he listened, brushing down the nape of your neck before squeezing it tenderly as you played the last note.

“I can’t believe it was you, this whole time. Your tunes, your voice kept me from madness some nights. Staring up at the moon, and you—” His voice broke, as tears broke free so instead he bent over to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

You turned to face him, standing up to reach his height. You gave him a sad smile, before asking, “May I?” He nodded with eyes closed, unsure of what he was even agreeing to. But then he felt the pads of your fingertips wipe his tears away, as gracefully and practiced as you had just touched the piano keys.

Astarion opened his eyes and grabbed your hand before you could pull it away. He held onto it before kissing your fingertips closely, tasting his own salty tears. “Just when I thought there was no possibility of loving you more.”

You mewed at the statement, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen spreading across your lips. “Do you believe me now?”

“About what?” He whispered.

“Fate.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as his heart lurched forward like it would thump right out of his chest, “Yes, my moon. I think I do.”

Leaning his face down, Astarion kissed you softly as he moved his arms to wrap around you. You matched his movements, circling your arms around his waist as your fingers grabbed onto the fabric of his jacket. Even with the long, drawn-out kisses, without requiring air like a mortal did, Astarion felt like he could finally breathe – fully and deeply for the first time in centuries. The darkness of his eternal immortal suffering suspending for a moment as his heart thundered alongside yours.

His lips became fervent on yours, kissing you harder and deeper than ever before. Your fingers moved to the front of shirt, knotting in fists as you pulled him into you. He groaned at the sensation of your chest pushed into his.

The vampire was sure he had never wanted anything so bad in his life — no other person, or blood, or freedom. Everything about this, about you, was making his mind swirl and heart pound like he had never experienced. Your scent — the sweet aroma of your bouquet, and the soap from last night. Your taste, like the richest wine and sweet honey pastries. The dichotomy of your gentle, tender kisses and the powerful, all-consuming ones you bestowed to him now. The little lavender house with the soft melodies and songs that had quite literally saved him for the past year, belonging to you.

“Starry,” You moaned out breathlessly as he trailed his kisses down your chest and throat, collarbones and sternum.

“Mmm, I can’t decide.” He purred into your skin, keeping up his touches with his lips and hands between his words.

“Decide what?” You panted slightly above him.

“Where I want you. The bed. This piano. Right here on the floor.”

You pulled away, your eyebrows furrowing softly, “Astarion, we don’t have to do anything you don’t—”

But he grabbed your chin with his thumb, catching your bottom lip slightly, as he made you look at him. “Are you going to make me beg?”

“What?”

“I want you — desperately. I ache for you, darling. And you are so sweet and considerate and have been so, so very patient. But I will beg if you want me to. Will that get the point across?” He sank to his knees in front of you, kneeling on the worn wooden floorboards of your rented townhouse. The tips of his fingers trailed down the back of your thighs delicately as he steadied himself for balance. “I love you. I need you. Please—”

You stopped his rambling as you bent over to kiss him, cutting off his words before pulling him off of the floor. “You don’t beg or kneel anymore, not to anyone and especially not to me.” You held either side of his face, staring intensely at him. “Do you truly want this?”

“Yes,” He said simply, his red eyes round and soft. Putting his hand on the outside of yours, stilling holding his cheek. His voice dropped an octave, barely more than a whisper as the building sensation of arousal and bliss started to form all over again. “Yes, my moon.”

Your lashes fluttered as you looked down to his lips and back up to his eyes. He knew they were a mirror to his own, shining with deep, true emotion. “Anything for you, my love. I am yours.”

The sound that escaped him was cut off as you pushed your lips back onto his.

#bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav

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steveezekiel · 4 months

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PLAYING GOD—ASSUMING THE ROLE OF GOD 2

12 “HOW YOU ARE FALLEN FROM HEAVEN, O LUCIFER, son of the morning! How you are cut down to the ground, You who weakened the nations! 13 FOR YOU HAVE SAID IN YOUR HEART: ‘I WILL ASCEND INTO HEAVEN, I WILL EXALT MY THRONE ABOVE THE STARS OF GOD; I will also SIT ON the MOUNT of the CONGREGATION On the FARTHEST sides OF THE NORTH." Isaiah 14:12,13 (NKJV)

We have been able to establish and emphasize two important points so far in the first part of this teaching: (i) The Glory due God should be ascribed to Him (Isaiah 42:8; Acts 12:21-23). Do not play God, or assume the role of God, in the lives of the people you are leading. This amounted to pride in the sight of God! a. Are you acting like God? Are you taking the place of God in someone's or people's lives? Always speak to yourself and tell the self that you are not God. b. If the people wanted to praise you unduly, let them know, you are not God, and that, worship should not be given to you but God. (ii) Be content with whatever God has given you. Whatever position, or level, which God has placed you, be satisfied with it. a. You can aspire for promotion or progress, because the God we serve is a God of progress—He is a moving God. However, whatever you are aspiring to be, you should allow Him to do it in His own way and at His own time. b. We have seen ministers lobbying for promotions now in some denominations. Some are bribing their ways that they might be posted to any of the branches of their church denomination in big cities, where they think they could get more money and other material things. c. Deal with evil thoughts and Desires; or greediness. Every evil or Sin committed by anyone started with a Desire: 13 LET NO ONE SAY WHEN he is TEMPTED, “I am tempted by God”; for God cannot be tempted by evil, NOR DOES HE HIMSELF TEMPT ANYONE. 14 BUT EACH ONE IS TEMPTED WHEN HE IS DRAWN AWAY BY HIS OWN DESIRES AND ENTICED. 15 THEN, WHEN DESIRE HAS CONCEIVED, IT GIVES BIRTH TO SIN; AND SIN, WHEN IT IS FULL-GROWN, BRINGS FORTH DEATH" (James 1:13-15 NKJV).

The Doom of the devil, Lucifer, was his untamed Desires; for position, power, fame, and wealth: 13 FOR YOU HAVE SAID IN YOUR HEART: ‘I will ASCEND into HEAVEN, I will EXALT MY THRONE ABOVE THE STARS OF GOD; I will also SIT on the MOUNT OF THE CONGREGATION ON THE FARTHEST SIDES OF THE NORTH; 14 I WILL ASCEND ABOVE THE HEIGHTS OF THE CLOUDS, I WILL BE LIKE THE MOST HIGH.’ 15 YET you shall be BROUGHT DOWN TO SHEOL, TO THE LOWEST DEPTHS OF THE PIT" (Isaiah 14:13-15 NKJV).

16 “BY THE ABUNDANCE OF YOUR TRADING YOU BECAME FILLED WITH VIOLENCE WITHIN, AND YOU SINNED; THEREFORE I CAST YOU AS A PROFANE THING OUT OF THE MOUNTAIN OF GOD; AND I DESTROYED YOU, O COVERING CHERUB, From the midst of the fiery stones. 17 “YOUR HEART WAS LIFTED UP BECAUSE OF YOUR BEAUTY; YOU CORRUPTED YOUR WISDOM FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR SPLENDOR; I cast you to the ground, I laid you before kings, That they might gaze at you." Ezekiel 28:16,17 (NKJV)

Admonishment. (i) Remain small in your own eyes: "DO NOT BE WISE IN YOUR OWN EYES; Fear the LORD and depart from evil" (Proverbs 3:7 NKJV).

"BECAUSE of the privilege and authority God has given me, I give each of you this warning: DON'T THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN YOU REALLY ARE. BE HONEST IN YOUR EVALUATION OF YOURSELVES, measuring yourselves by the faith God has given us." Romans 12:3 (NLT)

(ii) Acknowledge God in all you do (Proverbs 3:5,6). (iii) Ask the Holy Spirit to help you in all you do. That is the essence of His presence on the inside of you (John 14:16,26). DO not neglect God, and think when things get soured, or bittered, you can easily come to Him, and hijack Him to help you; such an idea would not work. (iv) Do not allow pride in your life. God detests it. He would not want anyone to be boastful, or vaunt, or talk without Acknowledging Him: 27 BUT God has CHOSEN the FOOLISH THINGS of the world TO PUT TO SHAME the WISE, and GOD has CHOSEN the WEAK THINGS of the world TO PUT TO SHAME the THINGS which are MIGHTY; 28 AND the BASE THINGS of the WORLD and the THINGS which are DESPISED GOD has CHOSEN, and the THINGS which are NOT, to BRING to NOTHING the THINGS that ARE, 29 THAT NO FLESH SHOULD GLORY IN HIS PRESENCE" (1 Corinthians 1:27-29). a. If you are boastful of your achievements or attainments, God might allow you to be humiliated. b. Do not always talk about your achievements, let other people do that: "LET ANOTHER MAN PRAISE YOU, AND NOT YOUR OWN MOUTH; A STRANGER, AND NOT YOUR OWN LIPS" (Proverbs 27:2 NKJV). c. Do not call people's attention to yourself or whatever good you have done (Matthew 6:1-4). Put your camera or phone away If you are helping anyone with material things. In other words, do not crave to receive praise of Men. d. Do not try to help God; using gimmicks to get done what God has promised to do, or using gimmicks to expedite the doing of it. e. Let the people under your leadership know that you are God's delegate, and not God. No matter the greatness of your Anointing, or your results in the Ministry; you should let them know that you are just an instrument in the hand of God.

You will not fail in Jesus' name.

If you had any ailment in your body, place your hand there; I declare your healing in the name of Jesus Christ. WHATEVER is not planted in your body by God is rooted up in the mighty name of Jesus Christ. YOU are made whole in Jesus' name. Peace! stablish His covenant which He swore to your fathers, as it is this day."

PLAYING GOD—ASSUMING THE ROLE OF GOD 2

Admonishment. (i) Remain small in your own eyes: "DO NOT BE WISE IN YOUR OWN EYES; Fear the LORD and depart from evil" (Proverbs 3:7 NKJV).

You will not fail in Jesus' name.

#christianity #gospel #christian living #christian blog #devotion

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mikashisus · 8 months

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Clipped Wings

"i could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; i would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. i would know him in death, at the end of the world"

— madeline miller

summary: He was like the fresh breeze on a warm summer day, brushing over your skin with the most delicate of touches.

He knew just the right words to say and how to say them, and lies slipped from his lips easier than wine slid down his throat.

pairing: venti x fem!reader

content warnings: foul language, panic attacks, mentions of alcoholism, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of abuse and trauma, mentions of torture, religious symbolism, and suggestive themes (including innuendos)

ch.4 wc: 1.4k

previous chapter masterlist

CHAPTER IV: a heart is a heavy burden

The Anemo Archon Barbatos never liked to trifle in human affairs, preferring to leave it up to them to handle their own problems. That said, it didn't mean he didn't care for his people or those suffering. In fact, he was renowned in Mondstadt for being a gentle god, a kindred spirit who answered the prayers of his people and brought hope for a brighter future.

No matter how "absent" he may have been, he did not leave his people to completely fend for themselves. He still watched over them in his own way, whether it be through warm breezes of reassurance or singing ballads of encouragement as a bard in the plaza.

The infamous god of wind roamed the streets of Mondstadt as the best wandering bard of the mortal world, taking the appearance of a young boy (despite his real age) and knowing every song from past, present, and future. He discarded the name he was given and was now known as Venti.

Oftentimes, when his mind drifted back to days of yore, years before he met you, he'd sit in the hands of the statue dedicated to him, and just think. He'd reminisce on old times, back before this city was built and before these lands had become grassy plains and rolling hills. A time where freezing, howling winds and snowstorms surrounded an ancient city.

A time before he was anything special.

He'd watch the streets grow empty as the sun crossed over the horizon, watch the way the city lit up at night and listen to the joyful sound of chatter in the taverns and the bell toll from the cathedral. He'd admire the scenery of the nation he held dear, and think back to other old times as his eyes landed on the symbol of Mondstadt's hero. The large, archaic tree where another one of his friends had ascended to Celestia.

On days where his memories had really taken a burden on his mind, he'd return to where it all began and roam the tower that once stood tall in the midst of constant storms. He'd bring his lyre and play a few tunes, walk around the land below the tower and pay homage to the lives lost in that cruel battle. He would sit beside a gathering of cecilias he planted so long ago and sing to them, sing his old friend's favorite songs and quietly talk about what life was like in the present. His heart would feel heavy on those days, like an anchor dropped into the sea.

But there was always that one person that could bring him back from reliving old times, and he found himself seeking you out more and more each time it was too much for him to handle. He'd no longer return to the place he once called a home, instead finding solace in your voice and presence. He'd spend his nights in Angel's Share where you were a waitress, sometimes occupy a table on the second floor so he could keep you from your shift and talk to you longer. He'd drink himself to insanity, wherein you'd have to take him home with you and leave him lightly snoring on your sofa.

Never did that happen when you were with Albedo. Never have the two of you been so close in the time you've known each other. Your heart had once belonged to someone else, and he kept his distance out of respect of your relationship. At first, it wasn't hard, because all he had seen you as was a friend... but then, slowly, his heart fluttered whenever you were around, and he found himself more possessive of you than he should've been for someone who was only supposed to be your friend. He was more than sure that Albedo had caught onto his feelings... and maybe that was why such a big rift between you and Albedo had formed.

He felt a little guilty for possibly ruining your relationship, but selfishness was a common emotion in humans. And even though he wasn't exactly human, Barbatos still felt human emotions. He still experienced loss, grief, joy, and now love.

He and Venti were separate from the other. Venti was a jovial bard who loved to sing and share his songs with the world. He'd live life free as a bird and travel the world with his lyre attached to his hip. He'd drink and spend his nights in taverns, and joke and tease others whenever he wanted. Venti was a representation of freedom, the kind of freedom the people of Old Mondstadt once longed for. He represented the meaning of the word in every way, with his carefree attitude and his spirits as light as the breeze that passed over the land.

However, Barbatos was something more somber, something calmer and wise. He liked to guide others with his voice and the wind, and kept others' memories alive by turning their stories into ballads so that they wouldn't be forgotten like his friend was. He was someone still stuck in a long forgotten past, unable to let go of those he once held dear.

He was a gentle soul, a kind god who loved his children and continued to bring them hope through playful winds. He listened to the prayers of his people and reminisced on old memories because they still shackled him down. He was there when Mondstadt needed him most every time without fail. He was scared of the higher power in Celestia and despised the Heavenly Principles. And yet, out of all the gods, he was the most burdened, a complete opposite of the ideal he was meant to uphold and cherish.

He welcomed even those who were lost to time, allowing them a safe haven from their previous lives that still haunted them. Through the winds that blowed across this land, he heard secrets whispered in the dead of night, quiet prayers sent to him by a devoted follower who claimed she had no faith in the gods.

As he looked down from his perch in the statue's hands, he saw your silhouette approaching. In your hands, you carried a small bouquet of cecilias, all freshly picked and accompanied by a few apples. Intrigued, he listened in, not really in the mood for greeting someone right now when his usual bard persona had been tucked away for the night.

"I believe... you have helped me," you muttered, admiring the ethereal glow that shone from the bottom of the statue, illuminating the structure and bringing it to life even in the dead of night. "I don't know whether or not you care for outsiders like me... much less anyone from the North, but I thank you." You placed the cecilias and apples at the foot of the statue.

Barbatos' heart was touched at your proclamation. A small smile graced his lips. As much as he wanted to thank you for the gifts in person, he knew he couldn't do that right now. You were still struggling to grasp the idea that an archon actually cared for people, and revealing himself to you at the current moment would've been too overwhelming. Not to mention, you might treat him differently if you knew who he really was, and he didn't want that.

To show his appreciation, a gentle gust of wind was blown your way, warm on your cheeks and all too reassuring. The whistle of the wind sounded almost like a thank you, and he considered that that should've sufficed for now. The glow under the statue illuminated as well, and small Anemo particles burst into sparkling dandelions. The sight was wondrous, so much so that you wished you could take a picture. This was enough confirmation for you that he was there, listening to your troubles and answering your prayers.

Barbatos laid down, gazing up at the sky with an all too familiar sorrow dancing in his aurora borealis eyes. He couldn't admit that he himself had taken such a strong liking to you... Venti was the one with whom you spent all your time with, he was the one who had a strong attachment to you.

...But, Barbatos couldn't continue to hide the fact that he too had grown fond of you.

author’s notes: i believe there is a very noticeable difference between venti and barbatos and it's very easy to spot in the actual lore of the game.

imo, venti is barbatos' true representation of freedom and pays homage to the nameless bard. he is also who barbatos wishes to be, bc even tho barbatos is the god of freedom, he's actually far from free himself. that's my analysis on him at least.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #venti x reader #venti #angst #mondstadt #genshin venti #— clipped wings 🪽

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universalsatan · 2 years

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can’t tell if i’m confusing wanting to look like almost stereotypically macho men or just being wildly attracted to them. or both i guess

#i mean i always used to say bi dilemma but im realizing this is mostly just gay now godbless. trans rights #for context. im thinking like. young harrison ford (i Know.; the reason im saying this is i remember Both my mom and dad acknowledging him #as the og Macho Man™️) and because it crossed my dash. jackles. but not really young jackles like s1 dean but matured jackles like more rece #it’s funny cause in practice. the person ive been pursuing (while Also an idiot. maybe i should just accept myself as morosexual at this #point) is actually. very effeminate HAHAHDHAHSJDHSJ #to the extent that my mom has thought he was gay in the past. i was talking about him to my sister and she asked if he was gay LMAO #which is hilarious because as far as i know (and ive known him for… almost 6 years ig? pined for almost 5). i’m Only aware that hes had a #crush on a girl ages ago. but this was also thru a secondhand source we’ve never actually talked about that #we probably should but we’re both idiots i have no idea how it’d be brought up #but in terms of effeminate. hm. he’s actually Really tall maybe over 6ft? and he Can have a deep voice. i think he can sing bass? but he #actually speaks in a higher register. god i wonder if he’s doing the opposite of me. who’s always consciously deepend my voice LMAO #he’s a HUGE plant enthusiast. HUGE. i dont Think he’s ND (or at least he doesn’t from what i can tell. I get vibes) but he straight up has a #plant fixation. knows so much about care. when he worked in greenhouses he learned the latin names for a good portion of them. i know this #isnt exactly ‘effeminate’ but he does all the gardening. oh and to add to it ig. i dont know HOW. he was NOT. irked by gore and blood???#when i explained to him what my potential job as a crime scene cleaner could entail??? but he cannot STAND bugs. he FREAJED OUT (over text)#at the mention of a spider. so of course. me being the 8yo boy with a playground crush. proceeded to tell him all my Fun Spider Encounters #lets see i think he also really loves to bake? ive seen these elaborate cakes (tp roll for covid. a fish) he’s made on insta. and there was #that one time he brought me those three most MOIST chocolate cupcakes with raspberry buttercream icing. i deadass ASCENDED to heaven.#food IS the way to a man’s heart btw.#oh yeah and the fact that i met him in the first place — well. i play oboe in ensembles. and he’s flute/piccolo. yeaHAHSHAHSHH #LMAO remembering that while he doesnt keysmash (i’ve started to around him. it’s mostly emojis bless his heart) he deadass called me ‘hun’#oh and the best part? i couldnt think kf what to watch. and he’s over here saying he doesnt watch ANYTHING. like bro how do u NOT. listen to #any music past 1900. OR OPERA EITHER. and NOT have any favorite movies/shows??? wh??? like. he deadass was like ‘unless [gardening channel #on youtube] counts’ like girl i am so in love #but yeah i was literally sitting there sounding like a pretentious film nerd bro i cant fuckin believe it. but i FINALLY wriggle it out of #him. because apparently he cant concentrate on most movies (valid.). the ones he CAN are cheesy chick flick comedies #saying that he can recite 90% of mean girls. thats his favorite movie #and he also mentioned like. legally blonde #and i have a feeling he almost was avoiding it in case i would judge him or whatever but ngl i honestly fell harder HAHSHSJAJDJAJ #fuck 30 tags but let’s just say. very effeminate compared to me. a full on Dad

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blorbosondeck · 4 years

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fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!!

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up.

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

#lmao please interact with this i spent so much time on it #i had to go onto desktop for this #ill keep adding on to it #my fic recs #fic rec #spn fic rec #deancas fic recs #charlie.txt

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years

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Exiled States the Obvious Pt. 1

Warning: May contain spoilers, may not be 100% accurate, sick ramblings, may break your heart upon debunking common theories

Some canon notes I've noticed and analyzed, this will be placed here not just for safekeeping but for other writers to be known of them too :DD

From Venti's story I; it is said that as a loophole to being refused to be served alcohol because of his appearance, he 'drinks on the job', performing while drinking alcohol the audience gives him instead of Mora (his own suggestion)

Story IV offers some interesting details from Venti's story quest: First, Decarabian truly loved his people and believed that he had done good for them. Second is that Venti was supposed to gift his friend an eagle's feather but wasn't able to do so because he died.

Venti knows how to forge Rex Lapis' signature. Venti knows how to FORGE REX LAPIS' SIGNATURE.

It confuses me how Venti and Diluc doesn't have some kind of estranged relationship knowing how aristocracy/monarchy damaged freedom in Mondstadt.

Venti has been to Celestia and it apparently fucking sucks. That or Venessa told him about it, but it still SUCKS.

The Anemo Archon can and will strip you just to protect his identity/secrets/past. Ask Mona.

Albedo and Klee in his trailer, we can consider this canon: Babysitting Klee includes fucking battles. Best big brother.

The way Venti talks about Albedo speaks of [How Earth is a thing in Space] [Creation of Human Life through Earth] which are direct points to God's (biblical) creation of the universe and humans. With the dialogue, Venti recognizes Albedo has Godly powers that can create such miracles, take this line with a pinch of salt tho.

A connection: The real reason Zhongli does not carry nor care about prices is because of his trailer, THE FUNERAL PARLOR LITERALLY CARRIES ALL HIS EXPENSES

Hu Tao's existence proves that Xiao has a sense of humor and it is MORE THAN LIKELY that the adepti knows and can casually smile or laugh.

This piece of work exists: "Sigils of Permission were once created by Rex Lapis and infused with adeptal power. During the Archon War, such talismans were used by mortals to channel divine power. Now, most of its power has worn off, but adepti will still refrain from harming its holder."

Xiao is actually less hostile/asshole-y in the Chinese version than the English one and should be taken as canon since, well, Mihoyo is a Chinese company. Lots of dialogues or voiceline connotations are lost in translation.

Zhongli's retirement scenario does NOT mean that the adepti will not be needed or will also retire (looking at you Keqing) because as proven by the fight, the adepti are still in need of protecting mankind.

The Qixing and Adepti all know he is not dead, stating he gave hints that he hasn't really died to them.

A huge possibility that Zhongli recites this line whenever he finishes or fulfills a contract: "The contract is fulfilled. That which thou seeketh is now bestowed unto thee, for my promise is solid as stone."

If his words from the cool trailer is to be taken into heart, then Zhongli had long since cared for and protected humans, during the archon war.

Zhongli is not a MORTAL FUNERAL man, he is an ADEPTI FUNERAL man.

This broke God has the AUDACITY to go to operas, and not just any operas no no, "operas by the most celebrated performers."

He does not know shit about poverty because he doesn't know what it's like to be poor. He doesn't need to eat.

Besides the usual, he has more titles, some which are pretty funny: God of History, God of Stove. Liyueans(?) call him Rex Lapis, outside of his nation everyone calls him Morax. And in operas and children, he's more known as the War God.

Zhongli is very likely to cause divine intervention or sightings because a lot of stories and tales in Liyue about him are actually first-hand experience of accounts seeing the God himself.

Wrath of the Rock does not only mean Zhongli smacking asses with a laddle: Qixing of Liyue are officially responsible of punishing contract breakers.

Ningguang's role holds the big bad book of laws, with a whooping page count of 279.

This infomation is mostly for me to clarify Rex Lapis standing in the Seven: He is the first to ascend into Archon-hood, the one out of two remaining of the original Seven (Barbatos is second longest) and that besides him and Venti, the original Seven would also gather for wine in Liyue until they all left Archon-hood.

Zhongli really fuckin did a pest termination arc.

I repeat, ZHONGLI DOES NOT HATE SEAFOOD. To clarify, he hates TENTACLED seafood/cuisines. He can eat seafood tofu, happily.

It's so funny how the concept of "equivalent exchange" exists and is exercised in contracts, but not in a more dangerous aspect such as a l c h e m y.

The reason Jean is working as an Acting Grand Master is because the actual Grand Master is out on an expedition.

It is not normal for the Harbingers to be like Childe.

While battles and sparring is one of Childe's most usual traits, a lot of his character lines point to the fact that he's not outright looking for beating people up 24/7 and that his thirst can also be quenched by thrill or excitement.

General ones:

The other five archons do not uphold/focus on the duty of leading humanity, which was the prior responsibility of the original Seven.

I just realized the Archon War was literally about fighting to get a seat on the Seven. The way Archons are chosen are a mystery, just look at how Venti got his Archon-hood smh.

A pattern that we should consider but may be debunked in the future: A playable character MUST posses a visible Vision. So bye Scaramouche banner :')) pls debunk this Mihoyo

With Morax being unable to make Mora, economy is gonna be wack in Teyvat. In essence, every piece of Mora is valuable and will need to be circulated. Nations may fight to hold the most Mora and the one leading and already found a work around on this is actually the Tsaritsa, who has long since focused on economic power. This may not be coincidence.

Characters who are CANONICALLY good with children, to an extent: Ningguang, Beidou, Xiangling, Baizhu, Albedo, Jean, Childe, Ganyu, Xiao, Lisa. Italicized ones are the to an extent ones.

The Fatui has connections with Mondstadt, mainly the Ordo Favonius.

200 years ago sure is an oddly specific duration in Lisa's story and this might be expanded in the Sumeru chapter.

A clarification to a subtly known fact : It is the combined power of all the adepti that revived Qiqi, not just Xiao.

WILD CARD

Almond Tofu is NOT made of tofu. And in original Chinese recipes, it's not even fuckin Almond, it's goddamn Apricot seeds. But in Genshin it is canon Almond.

Tag lists for my homies that I want to share this with. Tagging other authors or lore enthusiasts are also greatly appreciated:

@heiayen @dandelion-dreams @karemelle @jrnightingale @galassyalex @boxofteenageideas @chels-void @starconch @worldsfool

PS I'm sorry for suddenly tagging you guys, I just thought it would be nice to share these with some authors that I know or have seen me, please tell me if you want to be removed, s-sorry in advance 👉👈

#genshin impact #exile.feather #exile.Circlet #author is sick but not dying #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #May not be 100% accurate #will gladly indulge requests for sources #did this while bedridden #spread the word #let authors run amok #with more with writing material #author is a busy idiot #she doesn't have a lot of time as she makes it out to be

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

Note

Have you ever watched the fan video of birdflash, with the song Brother from Kodaline.

It always make me cry.

have i seen it? have i seen it? oh babe you have no idea how often i watch that thing. (we are talking about the one on youtube by @gtgrandom , right?)

dear god that one song is perfect for birdflash, and that fanvid plays into the song beautifully, making it more emotional than it already was. and the lyrics to, just, dear god,,,,,,,,

“ We've taken different paths / And travelled different roads [...] We're living different lives” : when wally decided to leave the life to save himself and to go with artemis, but in no life would dick be able to tear himself away, and that splits the two of them, arguably for good. and you know the two of them would stay up at night, fingers hovering over the call button, wondering whether or not to press it because the other boy had a life now, was grown up now, didn’t need them anymore.

“And when you're in the trenches / And you're under fire I will cover you” : i think this one goes without saying. i mean, they cover for each other, look out for each other in the comics all the time. and in the comics it happens even more often. one scene immediately comes to mind, that time roy was shooting at wally and dick, and wally just snatches all the arrows out of the air saying “no. no. no. no.” and then afterwards he gets all protective and i just end up screaming.

“Heaven only knows / If we'll make it back with all our fingers and our toes” : but here’s the thing they didn’t. every single mission had a risk, and even though the minute you put on a mask you were well aware of it, it seems almost far off. distant, untouchable to you. dick and wally had years of experience, and they knew their skills. nobody expected wally to die, least of all dick.

“If I was dying on my knees / You would be the one to rescue me” : jesus christ just,,,,,,,the way this line is sung. my soul ascends every single time. because this is always what happens. hell, from the very first time dick and wally ever met: the very very first titans comic to ever come out. the entire thing is wally saving dick’s life from situations he got himself in. and, cough cough, failsafe?? wally could have left. he should have left. one more hero would have survive. but wally didn’t want to leave dick, didn’t want dick to die alone. but you could tell, until the very last moment, that some unconscious part of wally still thought he could somehow save dick. the way they reached for each other, the way they clung to each others’ hands as they fell?

i need to shut up. your question was whether or not i’ve seen it and i came out with this utterly useless mess of me having feelings. bottom line: that video is one of the most beautiful things ive ever seen, that song is so damn birdflash that it hurts, and dickwally culture is angst.

#birdflash #dick grayson #wally west #robin #nightwing #kid flash #the flash #young justice #dc

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infinite-xerath · 3 years

Text

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Targon)

Targon Part I

You awaken the next morning to find everyone in somewhat dour spirits. Olaf looks to be training alone, Shen is meditating, Riven is idly inspecting her blade, Gwen and Vayne seem to be watching the waves outside, and Lucian and Senna look to be in the middle of a rather heated argument.

Senna: “How many times do I need to say it, Lucian? I’m not staying behind!”

Lucian: “You’ve seen what he can do, Senna! We’re not in any position to take him on!”

Senna: “I know that, Lucian, but that’s all the more reason why we all need to be out there.”

Lucian: “Damn it, Senna, he’s targeting you! You’ve got one of those soul fragments in you too, which means we need to keep you out of harm’s way.”

Senna: “Oh? And what about Gwen? She’s a fetter too, and you don’t seem to want her to stay behind.”

Lucian: “Gwen’s got the Hallowed Mist protecting her!”

Senna: “And I’ve got you protecting me, or do you not have my back?”

Lucian: “That’s… You know that ain’t fair!”

Senna: “Oh really? So it’s fair that I get to stay behind and worry about my husband while you go hunting all over the world for fetters? Lucian, we swore we would always have each other’s backs. You have to stop letting what happened with Thresh hold you back!”

“Who’s Thresh?”

“Uh, is that a bad time?”

Lucian response 1: “…Someone you should pray you never meet, Rookie.”

Lucian response 2: “…No, I’d say your timin’ is perfect, Rookie.”

Senna: “We were just getting ready to set out on our next mission.”

Suddenly, Riven approaches to join the conversation.

Riven: “So… Where are we going next?”

Shen: “Mount Targon.”

Riven: “Ah! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Shen: “Mount Targon is the gateway between the earth and the heavens; a bridge into the Third Realm, that of the Celestials. Their power is often revered as godlike, so acquiring their favor may be the key to tipping the scales.”

“Wait, so we’re going to try and recruit the gods?”

“Isn’t Mount Targon like, really high though?”

Senna: “I know it’s a longshot, but either way, the Black Mist is gathering around Targon as we speak.”

Olaf: “Hmm! The gods you say? Perhaps there is a worthy foe among them!”

Senna: “Everyone, gather round! Rookie, fire up the Wayfinder!”

You wait as everyone gathers to the map table, then unleash the Wayfinder’s light to carry you to your destination. You emerge in what looks to be not a Sentinel outpost, but some manner of temple filled with carvings of Celestial bodies.

“Uh, I think something went wrong.”

“Please don’t tell me this thing is on the fritz.”

???: “Halt, trespassers!”

You turn around to see figures in peculiar armor emerging from the shadows, wielding brandishing peculiar silver weapons at you.

Lunari Soldier A: “Who are you? How did you find our sacred ground?”

Lunari Soldier B: “They must be with the Solari! Capture them!”

Gwen: “Um, pardon me, I think there’s been a misunderstanding! We’re not-”

Lunari Soldier A: “Silence! We won’t be deceived by your lies! Lunari, ready your weapons!”

Vayne: “A fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Rookie…”

Targon Part II

The Sentinels fend off their Lunari attackers, the light of their weapons clashing against the silver light of moonsteel.

Shen: “We are not your adversaries! Please, stand aside!”

Lucian: “Damn, they ain’t listening! Looks like we’re just gonna have to blast our way through!”

Lunari Soldier A: “What is this? I have never seen Solari weapons like this before!”

???: “They are not Solari! Everyone, stand down!”

Suddenly, every Lunari soldier halts, turning their attention to the entrance of the temple. A woman with long, pale hair strides into the room, clutching a large curved blade.

“Who are you?”

“Reinforcements?”

Diana: “Forgive them, travelers. My name is Diana, chosen Aspect of the Moon.”

Riven: “Aspect? You don’t mean…”

“You’re a god!?”

“You lead the Lunari?”

Diana response 1: “In a sense… Though I am only a vessel for Her power.”

Diana response 2: “A leader? No, not quite… I only speak the moon’s will to Her people.”

Olaf: “Ha! The gods of the Freljord are said to be titans! Are all of Targon’s god so tiny?”

Gwen: “Olaf, manners!”

Diana: “The moon towers above even your gods, Freljordian! Do not speak ill of her so readily.”

Lunari soldier B: “My lady, these Solari agents-”

Diana: “They are not Solari. These travelers have come far to aid us in our current plight, is that not so?”

Senna: “Actually… You could say that we’re the ones looking for help. There’s a world-wide Harrowing going on, so we hoped you Aspects could lend us a hand in dealing with it.”

Diana: “I see… In the past, Aspects would stand together to fend off the forces of darkness that threatened this world, but now we stand divided. The sun’s faithful, the Solari, persecute the Lunari as heretics! Their Aspect is…”

Diana hesitates. For a moment.

Diana: “She is difficult to speak with. As for the others: War has been killed, Justice is fragmented, and Twilight is nowhere to be found. Only the Protector remains to guard Targon’s peak from the encroaching darkness.”

“Guess we can’t expect any help from the gods…”

“So basically, you’re saying the Aspects can’t help.”

Diana: “…Not quite. It was by the Moon’s will that I came here to greet you. I know what it is you seek, travelers, and I can guide you to it.”

Vayne: “Oh, now this is a familiar set-up. Sorry, but we’ve already fallen for that trap once. It’s not happening again.”

Shen: “It is no trap. She speaks the truth.”

Lucian: “And how the hell do you know that?”

Shen: “The Eye of Twilight is not so easily deceived.”

Diana: “Time is short, travelers. Even as we speak, the Mist scours the mountain, searching for the Ruined King’s prize.”

Senna: “Damn it… I guess we don’t have a choice.”

Vayne: “…Fine, but the moment I even suspect Moonbeams here is going to turn on us, I’m putting a bolt through that glowing forehead.”

Diana: “You have nothing to fear. Now, come with me!”

Targon Part III

You follow Diana out onto the slops of Targon. The skies above you shine with the cosmos, but the land below you is obscured by a thick blanket of Black Mist.

“I can’t even see the bottom…”

“Just how high up are we?”

Diana: “Mount Targon soars into the heavens. Most would perish in an effort to make it this high, but you are fortunate to have had a means to bypass much of that climb.”

Lucian: “Come to think of it, why DID the Wayfinder bring us into your temple, anyway?”

Diana: “That temple did indeed once serve another purpose, but it has since become yet another hiding place for the Lunari to flee persecution. Those accursed Solari… They will forsake any light that isn’t the sun, forcing others to live in shadow.”

Diana descends further toward the Black Mist, leading you all closer to the howls of wraiths.

Vayne: “Seems like the shadows are where we’re headed.”

Gwen: “Um, are we quite sure about this?”

Before anyone can respond, several wraiths leap out of the Mist, ascending the mountain toward your party. You tense up, preparing for another fight, but Diana moves with inhuman speed to block their path. With a single swing of her blade, she lets loose an arcing bolt of moonlight that tears through the wraiths.

Diana: “The Moon’s silver light cuts through even the blackest darkness. You are under my protection now, so you have nothing to fear.”

“That was impressive!”

“Maybe I could get behind this whole moon-worship thing.”

Diana ignores your comments as she leads you further into the mist, wrapping herself in a silver barrier. More wraiths come your way, but Diana makes short work of those that would impede your path. The Sentinels fend of what few manage to sneak by her.

Lucian: “Hot damn, this moon lady ain’t half-bad!”

Senna: “Oh? Taken an interest in the goddess, have we, Lucian?”

Lucian: “Uh, I mean…”

Olaf: “Wait! Look there!”

You look past Diana to see a figure cutting through the Black Mist, striking down wraiths left and wright. His spear and shield glisten with the light of the cosmos and his helmet burns with pure starfire.

???: “Back, foul beasts! Your grotesque forms dishonor the fallen!”

“Who is that?”

“Another Aspect!?”

Diana response 1: “Atreus, formerly the Aspect of War. He fights with the remnants of Pantheon’s power that still linger inside him.”

Diana response 2: “Once, he was Pantheon, the Aspect of War. Now, however, he wields only a fragment of the fallen god’s might.”

Atreus: “Indeed, I am no more than a man! And no less! Whatever remnants of the god may linger, my strength is my own!”

Olaf: “Hmm! You seem like a worthy foe! Perhaps you will be the one to grant me a glorious end in battle!”

Atreus: “Glory comes not from how we die, berserker, but how we live. Now, enough talk! We share a common enemy this day, do we not, Diana?”

Diana: “Yes. We go to the dead god’s temple to find the artifact hidden within. We must keep it from the Ruined King’s grasp.”

Atreus: “So be it! Charge ahead, travelers! I will be the shield and spear at your backs!”

Without another word, Atreus rushes past you, slamming his shield into a wall of wraiths to scatter them.

Gwen: “Oh my, I hope he’ll be alright by himself!”

Vayne: “If I were you, I’d be more worried about the wraiths… Not that I’d ever spare any sympathy for these monsters.”

Diana: “What we seek lies just ahead. Come, Sentinels! We must hurry to the temple!”

Targon Part IV

After a long and arduous trek through the Black Mist, Diana finally brings you to the doors of an ancient, dilapidated temple.

“Phew… What a workout!”

“I need… A minute…”

Lucian: “Shake it off, Rookie! Our job’s not done yet.”

Riven: “So the fetter is in there?”

Diana: “Yes, that is what the Moon tells me.”

Vayne: “Let’s hope the Moon is a reliable informant.”

The Sentinels push the doors open to find the interior of the temple utterly abandoned. Tattered banners hang from nearby pillars and a heavy layer of dust lingers in the air. In the center stands a grand statue of a helmeted warrior clutching a familiar spear and shield.

“I don’t get it, why would a fetter be in a place like this?”

“Somehow, this place is even creepier than the Mist outside.”

Diana response 1: “For centuries, warriors from across Runeterra have come to make offerings here. It must be fate that one such offering would house the remnants of the Lost Queen.”

Diana response 2: “A god never truly dies. Their presence lingers in those whose lives they have touched, and where their memories are preserved.”

Shen: “I sense a growing imbalance. We should not dwell here for long.”

At Shen’s urging, fan out and scour the temple. You find many old offerings on display: trophies plucked from battlefields all over the world across the span of centuries. At first, none of them seem particularly noteworthy, but then your eyes fall upon an old, faded crest resting on a pedestal. You feel compelled to take hold of it and examine it more closely.

???: “I’ll be taking that.”

Suddenly, a shadowy hand snatches the crest from your grasp. You wheel around to see a familiar yordle standing by one of the pillars, her shadow clutching the crest behind her.

“It’s you! Um… What was your name again?”

“What the- How did you get here!?”

Vex response 1: “I never told you my name, but because I know you’re going to keep asking: it’s Vex, got it? Try to remember it.”

Vex response 2: “Ugh, more questions. Look, I’ve got ways of getting around, in case you’d forgotten.”

Hearing the commotion, the other Sentinels race to your aid. As Gwen and Senna draw near, the crest starts to emit a familiar glow.

Senna: “She’s got the fetter!”

Lucian: “Take her down, Sentinels!”

Vex: “Uh oh! Time to bale!”

Vex narrowly evades the bursts of Sentinel light that come for her, using her shadow to dart between the pillars of the temple for cover.

Riven: “She’s making a run for it!”

Senna: “Cut her off!”

Vex’s shadow carries her swiftly toward the exit, but Diana closes the distance in an instant. A massive circle of pale light surrounds her and draws Vex back into the temple.

Vex: “What the!? Hey, no fair!”

Diana slashes at Vex’s shadow, knocking the fetter from its grasp. The crest skids across the floor, landing by your feet.

Lucian: “Rookie, grab it!”

You bend over to do as Lucian says, only to be interrupted by a massive boom from outside. The whole temple trembles and knocks you off your feet.

“What was that!?”

“It wasn’t me, I swear!”

Vex: “Hey, if you guys are gonna bring a god, then so can I!”

Suddenly, the ominous presence you felt in the temple before grows heavier. A familiar figure strides into the temple, his flesh and weapons warped by the Black Mist. A look of genuine fear washes over Diana’s face.

Diana: “It can’t be…”

“Atreus!?”

“Pantheon!?”

Pantheon response 1: “No. I have reclaimed what is rightfully mine! I am Pantheon, and you are intruders upon my temple.”

Pantheon response 2: “Indeed. I am war, I am change, and I am reborn!”

Vayne: “So the Black Mist can even turn a dead god undead…”

Shen: “The scales of tipped even further!”

Pantheon: “Come then, mortals! You will be the first to receive my judgement!”

Targon Part V

Pantheon rushes into the temple, engaging the Sentinels head-on. Diana moves to intercept him, but she is quickly thrown back by the force of his spear into the base of his statue. The entire monument shakes and crumbles, burying Diana under a pile of rubble.

Lucian: “Stand strong, Sentinels! We’ve got him outnumbered!”

Pantheon: “Fool! I am an army unto myself!”

You watch as Pantheon engages your allies, effortlessly deflecting their attacks with his weapons. Shen, Riven and Olaf engage him at close-range, while Senna, Lucian and Vayne support them from a distance. Gwen does her best to support the party with Hallowed Mist, though this proves little more than an annoyance to the war god.

Senna: “Rookie! Grab that fetter and fire up the Wayfinder! We need to get out of here!”

You look to the ground to see that the crest is long-gone, along with Vex and her shadow.

“Damn! She got away with the fetter, again!”

“So, uh, I can follow exactly half of that order!”

Pantheon: “Your fight ended long before it even began, Sentinels!”

With a single swing of his spear, Pantheon knocks all of your comrades to the ground, lashing out with an unholy mix of Ruined and Celestial power. Just as the situation beings to seem dire, however, the statue behind Pantheon explodes into a burst of pale light.

Diana bursts from the rubble, swinging her moonlight-empowered blade at the war god. He turns just in time to block her strike with his shield, though the impact still causes him to stumble a little.

Diana: “Your time has passed, Warrior! Return to your slumber!”

Pantheon: “War is eternal, as am I!”

The two Aspects clash in an inhuman Celestial might, their battle causing the very temple around to you tremble. You and your allies watch, transfixed, at this deadly dance between gods in human form. A silent understanding arrives that any attempt at intervention would only result in a swift and inglorious death caught in the crossfire.

Diana dashes around with inhuman speed while Pantheon pushes with back with titanic strength, though you can’t help that something seems off about the war god’s movements. It looks to you almost as though he’s struggling to raise his spear…

Senna: “Rookie! We gotta go! This isn’t a fight mortals can play any part in!”

You snap back to reality and rush to your allies, Wayfinder in hand. Everyone musters the strength to join you, though just before you can teleport back to headquarters, a scream cuts through the temple. You look back to the battle, horrified to see Pantheon’s spear impaled through Diana’s torso.

Pantheon: “Now, you too will know what I felt at the Darkin’s blade…”

Lucian: “Rookie, do it now!”

In spite of Lucian’s orders, though, you find yourself unable to summon the light of the Wayfinder. Pantheon pulls his spear from Diana and shoves her toward you before approaching.

Pantheon: “It does not matter where you flee to, Sentinels. There is nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide, from war. I shall storm your fortress and lay waste to your bastion, bringing a new era of war!”

“Atreus, wake up!”

“Is that really what you want, Atreus?”

Pantheon: “You speak again of my vessel, but he is back where he belongs: under my control.”

“You said that it doesn’t matter how we die, but how we live! Do you want to live as a slave in your own body, Atreus?”

“You’re wrong, Pantheon! You’re the one under Viego’s control, but Atreus wouldn’t submit so easily!”

Vayne: “Rookie, what are you-”

Pantheon: “Enough of this! I… I… Ugh!”

Suddenly, Pantheon’s form begins to flicker, the Black Mist ebbing flowing from his body to show the man underneath.

Atreus: “I am no slave, Pantheon! Not to you OR the Ruined King!”

Pantheon: “What!? You dare defy me, mortal!?”

You watch as Atreus and Pantheon wrestle for control as Black Mist floods into the temple behind you, carrying with it a swarm of wraiths. Suddenly, the Ruination gives way to Celestial light once more, but the Black Mist still clings stubbornly to Atreus’s body.

Atreus: “Go! I shall hold these abominations back, including the one within me!”

Senna: “You heard him, Rookie! Use that damn Wayfinder!”

This time, you do as you are told, calling forth the power of your Relic to carry you and your comrades back to safety. You reappear in Sentinel headquarters, far away from Mount Targon.

Lucian: “Rookie, I don’t know whether to be furious or impressed right now.”

“I know, I lost the fetter.”

“I know, I can’t believe I actually got through to him!”

Riven response 1: “Hey, it’s not your fault. We all know how slippery that yordle and her shadow can be.”

Riven response 2: “I just hope Pantheon doesn’t take control again. I really don’t want a rematch with a god.”

Gwen: “Um, speaking of whom…”

You all turn to see Diana struggling to her feet, clutching her side.

Diana: “Ngh…”

“Are you alright?”

“Hey, take it easy!”

Diana: “It was not I who suffered Pantheon’s spear, young one, but the Aspect of the Moon herself. I… Can scarcely feel Her now.”

Vayne: “So what, you’re telling us that undead god killed the moon?”

Diana: “No… She still lives, but her power is weakened. It will take many nights for her to recover.”

Lucian: “If things keep up like this, I don’t know how many more nights we have.”

Shen: “The balance grows more precarious still.”

Senna: “So much for divine intervention…”

Diana: “Ngh… Though my connection to the heavens is diminished, I can still feel Her will, however faintly. She… Wishes for me to accompany you, if you’ll have me.”

Riven: “You’re saying you want to join us?”

Diana: “I am saying that... I have little choice. I cannot return to the Lunari as I am now. I am the Moon’s voice, her vessel. Without her, I can do little for my people. All I can do is take up arms and aid you in your fight, in the hopes that doing so will drive the Black Mist from the slopes of Targon.”

Gwen: “Ooh, how marvelous! The moon lady is going to join us! Oh, follow me, and we’ll tend to your wounds as well as your wardrobe.”

Gwen leads Diana back into the Sentinel base. Though it takes slightly longer than normal thanks to Diana’s injuries, she soon emerges with the Lunari leader in tow.

Gwen: “Apologies for the wait, everyone! I now present to you all: Sentinel Diana!”

Diana: “May Mother Moon watch over us, and may we all fight our own path through the darkness.”

Lucian: “That’s… Not exactly the standard oath, but good enough, I guess.”

Senna: (Another new Sentinel, but we’re still no closer to turning things around…)

#Runeterra Retcons

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lanchang · 3 years

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Okay but everything about the xianle trio reuniting feeds me. Xie Lian not recognizing Mu Qing and he is so offended and it’s so funny to me (but you know that’s hurts like ouch,)and the way Feng Xin is PISSED about his palace until he is sees that Xie Lian did it and sees Xie Lian’s apologetic little smile and goes so soft. And then how they won’t outright say they are gonna help but obviously they have to! Like they haven’t seen him in hundreds of years and things left off terribly between all of them, but they aren’t NOT gonna help him because they know he is a mess and they care and wanna protect him. And they act irritable towards everything but it’s because they care so much like how they stop him from eating bread from off the ground or how they are so annoyed that he just trusts San Lang right away. I could go on and on but words can’t describe how much I love these idiots and they’re relationship with each other 🥺

yes!!!! their reunion gets me so !!!!!!!! omg xie lian not recognizing mu qing truly is a moment where you dont know if you should laugh or cry it really is funny how offended mq is especially because the way he talks after 800 years of being a god is completely different to how he used to talk to xie lian but also it hurts so much that their last meeting went so badly and xl is just like "um who are you?" like OUCH!! and omg feng xin immediately dropping his angry face when he finds out its xie lian takes me out every time and then him just quietly dropping the debt.. sob

i think ive said this before but i love how xie lian ascending again has an IMMEDIATE physical impact on fx and mq it just feels right to me like if a close friend you had a huge falling out with suddenly popped up in your life again it would feel like someone dropped a bell on you or knocked down your palace and you would have to get involved again to find out what happened to them and if you still care about them of course youre gonna try to help them out

i love the way the three of them fall back into their old patterns so quickly without realizing it... thats actually what tipped me off to what was going on when i first reading book 1 i was like "hmmm these guys are acting AWFULLY familiar to xie lian...." and i love how irritable they are about him and i relate tbh like for me the friend i get the most irritated with is my oldest friend and its pretty much always about the fact that our lives are different now and/or them making choices that i think arent the best choice for them and im not saying thats great of me but i am saying that it feels very true to life of old friendships imo and i really understand fxmq scolding xl and being pissed about how quickly he befriends san lang i realllllly really get it and thats why im so attached to them... trio 🥺

#THREE FOOLS!!!!! oh i love them so much anon you get it 🥺#ask #tgcf spoilers

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365days365movies · 3 years

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May 6, 2021: The Martian (2015) (Recap: Part One)

We’re leaving lo-fi sci-fi, people. Kind of.

I mentioned before that films like Her are what I define as “lo-fi sci-fi”, which is a category that I’ve kind of made up. Basically, it’s the science fiction version of low fantasy, meaning it contains science fiction themes contained within an otherwise contemporary setting. In the case of Her, Joaquin Phoenix’s character, along with many others, live in a world and setting basically like ours, but with technology advanced enough to generate AIs (like Siri) that are intelligent enough to actually ascend our reality. Because we live in a society.

You give me Joaquin Phoenix, I’m gonna make a Joker reference; it’s in the contract of my existence. Anyway, that is admittedly kind of broad, right? I mean, that has the capability of crossing over with a BUNCH of sci-fi genres and themes. And, considering that we’ve already seen magic, speculative technology, time travel, monsters, and artificial intelligence, we’ve already touched on quite a bit.

And with science fiction, the sky’s the limit. Literally. So, I think it behooves us to re-examine lo-fi sci-fi a little bit. Specifically, we should note that it can also be defined as an extension of currently existing technologies and possibilities. Writers would call this “speculative sci-fi”, assuming in this case that it’s set within the present or a near and attainable future. Her definitely fits in this category, as does Westworld. But, let’s crossover to another genre by speculating upon another possibility. And it begins with this man. Probably.

Hey, Elon, what’s up? Now, Mr. Musk here is a...controversial figure, for COMPLETELY understandable reasons. Instead of touch upon the man himself, I feel like touching upon one of his recent focuses: space travel. With SpaceX and the various upcoming space trips and journeys that they’re planning, Musk has made it clear that he plans to shoot to the Moon. Again, literally.

In fact, this full plan is to go even further than that, and to fuel potential commercial space flights in the future, which is admittedly very cool. And of course, if you’re going to shoot for the Moon...

Guys...guys, that’s Mars. THAT’S FUCKING MARS

Is that not amazing? We have sound and pictures from FUCKING MARS! THAT’S A DIFFERENT PLANET, GODDAMN IT! It’s cooler than I have the ability to properly express, but it IS goddamn cool. And this means that, easily within my lifetime, we could (and likely will) land on Mars. Which is amazing. God, I really want to see that happen.

And so, landing on Mars is BARELY science fiction, but since we haven’t yet done so...yeah, it’s fictional at the moment. And so, any film about landing on Mars falls within this category. Well...to an extent.

2000′s Mission to Mars, for example, was a Disney-funded film (to my IMMENSE surprise; and it’s based off of an old Disney World ride, WHAT), and a movie that I saw a LOT when I was a kid. I also barely remember it, to be honest. But that film is straight-up science fiction because of, well...aliens. The idea of Martians is, as far as we know it, fictional. And most fiction involving Mars includes these aliens somehow. Whether it’s DC Comics’ entire civilization of Martians, as seen in Justice League, Supergirl, or Young Justice...

...Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s heavily mythologized civilization, as seen in the Barsoom series of novels (and another Disney film)...

...Or one of the best Looney Tunes characters.

Mmm. Yes. Isn’t that lovely?

But, yeah, Mars and aliens go hand-in-hand in our media. So, to properly look at lo-fi science and speculative science fiction in relation to the Red Planet, we’ll need a movie that goes to the planet, and doesn’t touch upon the concept of aliens AT ALL.

Enter...Ridley Scott?

Yeah, the director of Legend, Alien, Thelma and Louise, Blade Runner, Gladiator. Also the director of Kingdom of Heaven, Prometheus, Exodus: Gods and Kings, and...ugh, 1492: Conquest of Paradise. I’ve talked about his mixed record before, in my Recap of Legend right here.

In 2014, he was brought on to adapt a book by Andy Weir called The Martian, which is a great book! I’ve listened to the audio book, and I whole-heartedly recommend doing that. And because of that, I am VERY MUCH looking forward to watching this film, especially seeing as it’s often called one of the best science fiction films made during that year, and was critically acclaimed then and now. It got seven Oscar nominations (although it won none of them), amongst other awards. So, enough navel-gazing, huh? The Martian!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

On Acidalia Plantitia, at the landing site of the Ares III mission, a group of scientists are gathering samples. These scientists are commander and geologist Melissa Lewis (Jessica Chastain), pilot Rick Martinez (Michael Pena), systems operator Beth Johanssen (Kate Mara), surgeon Chris Beck (Sebastian Stan), German chemist Alex Vogel (Aksel Hennie), and overly talkative botanist Mark Watney (Matt Damon).

The group seems to have a good dynamic, but that dynamic is interrupted by a massive dust storm, which is large enough to cause the entire crew to evacuate. However, in the chaos of the dust storm, Mark is hit by debris and lost in the shuffle. Although Lewis goes back to find him, she can’t get to him before they need to leave, and Mark is believed dead. This is reported (pretty callously) by NASA Director Teddy Sanders (Jeff Daniels) to the press soon afterwards.

But of course, that wouldn’t be much of a movie, now would it? Mark’s alive! And Mark’s alone. With his suit damaged, and low on oxygen, he trudges back to headquarters, which is intact and still contains breathable oxygen. He gets inside, and realizes that he’s been stabbed in the abdomen by some debris. He removes it, and stitches up his own wound. Which is...god, it’s fucking BRUTAL just to think about, nevertheless watch.

Once he’s finished, he records a log for the future, if he doesn’t make it. It’s day 19 of the 31-day mission at this point, and Mark’s basically screwed. He needs lasting oxygen, water, and food, and he might need that for 4 years, when the next manned mission can come to the red planet. Additionally, he has absolutely no way to contact NASA, leaving him completely stranded. Another dust storm rolls in that night, and Mark looks over the belongings of his colleagues, packing them up for their eventual return. It’s somber, to say the least. However, Mark affirms that he’s determined not to die on the planet.

After doing the math, Mark should have enough food to last him for about 300 days, especially if he rations it. Until then, he’ll need to figure out how to grow his own food, on a planet where nothing grows. Which is, of course, going to be a difficult feat to accomplish. But Mark Watney’s a botanist with botany powers, and he’s gonna do it.

It’s day 31, and Mark’s brought in dirt from the outside, and uses the bio-waste from the crew’s stay there for a form of compost. After 5 days, mostly full of him watching Happy Days on TV and trying to farm, he realizes that he needs water, both for himself and for the soil. To do that, he goes chemical and decides to use hydrogen-laden rocket fuel, wood from Martinez’s belongings, and good old-fashioned fire to make water! And since hydrogen + oxygen = water, it should work. With a minor side-effect.

So, yeah, he blew himself up. As as he records a video log, the sound mixing makes itself impressively known by subtly and realistically generating a tinnitus sound. It’s VERY well-done, holy shit. Anyway, he makes a stable fire, and the place is soon covered in condensation, moistening the room and the soil successfully.

We get to day 54, and Mark’s planted leftover potatoes from the crew in order to grow them. And while he’s being mourned at a funeral on Earth, and in NASA, he’s seeing the fruits (or shoots) of his efforts.

Back on Earth, Mars Mission Director Vincent Kapoor (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is trying to convince Director Teddy to let him lobby for another Ares mission, despite the risk of bad press for the callousness of the proximity to Watney’s death. Meanwhile, satellite technician Mindy Park (Mackenzie Davis) looks down at the Ares III site, and realizes that the site has changed visually, meaning that Mark may actually be alive.

Shocked by this, she tells Kapoor, Teddy, and media director Annie Montrose (Kristen Wiig) about this, and they realize the absolute clusterfuck that this whole thing is. They can’t tell the other members of the Ares III crew about it, because it’d devastate them for the 10 months they have to get back to Earth, at the VERY least. They can’t tell the WORLD about this, because they just had a funeral for the guy, and they’d reveal that they left him stranded on Mars accidentally, destroying faith in the Mars Missions Program. And they can’t save Mark, who they’re sure will starve eventually. It’s a mess. And Kapoor also wonders what’s happening to Mark psychologically through all of this.

And yet, they reveal this to the world regardless, causing the clusterfuck reaction that they think it’s going to cause. But Mark’s busy on Mars, figuring out how to get to the site of the next Ares IV mission in 4 years, at the Schiaparelli crater about 50 days travel away. This is a struggle, as his Rover has only so much power and fuel, and he can only get more power by cutting out the heater is risking death by freezing. So, problems. However, he figures out a potential solution: radioactive isotopes! In a move that is, let’s face it, COMPLETELY INSANE, he digs up a radioactive generator from the ship in order to heat the ship.

On Earth, they try to figure out Mark’s moves, as well as how to resupply Ares IV sooner for Mark’s benefit. This is with the director of JPL, Bruce Ng (Benedict Wong), and the flight director of the ship Hermes, Mitch Henderson (Sean Bean), who insists that they tell the Ares II crew. They continue to monitor Mark, and note that he’s been travelling for 17 days in his Rover towards something. Kapoor figures it out, and flies to California.

See, Mark needs a way to contact NASA, and he believes that the way to do so is through Pathfinder, the first probe ever sent to Mars in 1997, lasting for 9 months since landing until they lost contact. Mark digs it up, and the people at JPL in California start their own efforts for contact. And despite communication being extremely rudimentary, initially limited to yes/no questions that use a still-frame camera, it fucking WORKS! WHOO!

To boost this communication hurdle, the two camps figure out a hexadecimal system for communication, allowing them to communicate using a circular table of numbers that represent an alphabet. That allows them to teach Mark to hack into the Rover, allowing it to piggyback off of its broadcast signal and send them messages via keyboard. Nice! Now that communication is reasonably possible, Mark’s able to ask how the crew is handling his death. But upon learning that they haven’t told him. He’s understandably a little goddamn enraged. And so, they FINALLY tell the Ares III crew about this.

The news breaks the crew, even though Mark continues to stress that he’s all right, and that it wasn’t their fault. Meanwhile, Mark’s able to survive for 912 days with his potato plants, and things improve with the help of technicians on Earth. They plan to launch a supply rocket to him in the next year, and things are looking fine! Unless, of course...something goes horribly HORRIBLY wrong.

Well...fuck. Good place to pause for Part Two, then?

#the martian #ridley scott #matt damon #jessica chastain #kristen wiig #jeff daniels #sean bean #michael pena #chiwetel ejiofor #benedict wong #science fiction may #sci-fi may #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #bookstofilm #whatelsecanwedonow

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youareunbearable · 4 years

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I dont want to do school work so instead im trying to figure out how to make a SVSSS/TGCF crossover without it being weird/making either canon wrong

So far all i got is that SVSSS took place before the massacre that lead to Jun Wu leading the heavenly capital, and that Ghost City resides somewhere in the demon realm (maybe??) and that LBH is basically HC’s very distant boss/ruler, cause even tho HC is a King, LBH is a heavenly demon and emperor and therefore more op and powerful than HC, he’d just never do anything about HC doing anything cause he doesnt really care and HC is fine with that, he just pays his taxes occasionally and doesn’t think about it

plot wise, i kinda got that since SVSSS took place before the heavenly massacre, i kinda want the CQ peak lords to maybe have ascended and therefore died in that massacre, and only a couple of the svsss characters lived to be in the tgcf crossover. Basically, any character that survived was in the demon realm at the time cause they never ascended (sqq, sqh, im dragging lqh into this too cause im a fan of liubingqiu and hed be the only god who lived cause he was bugging sqq about his fans, and maybe like nyy and lmy cause they married the new harem mistress shl) and they cut off all ties to heaven and it’s new ruler cause even if LBH might have won in a fight against JW, sqq and sqh basically held him (and lqg) back with tears in their eyes after everyone they cared about died cause god everyone they cared about DIED those ppl were OP and DIED you CANT go fight that!!!

So basically svsss squad cut all ties with heaven and don’t really interact at all with the new gods cause theyre old jaded and bitter about it and are all kinda huddled around lqg cause he’s basically the only survivor and if jw finds out about him being alive and knowing what he did theyre fucked. They go between the demon realm and the mortal one and thats it

SO ACTUALLY PLOT TIME!! HC gets a letter from LBH basically asking him to come to court and bring his little “godly” friend too, and HC is like Ah Fuck I fucked up shit shit i can’t ignore this but i will fight the emperor if he tries anything funny with gege but XL is like lmaoo lets go why not im sure its nothing, so they go to the court and HC is basically giving a crash course of backstory for XL so he knows what hes going into and XL is interested about the fact that theyre all older than JW and know about Before, but HC is like God gege please dont ask them about it its a sensitive topic

they get there, and its a full court, all of LBH’s generals and his two husbands are here and HC and XL kneel and LBH is like “u have a lot of balls bringing in not only a god but That Man’s apprentice into my realm” and HC is sweating but also trying to sweet talk his way out of them needing to go into protective services to not die and the entire time SQQ is squinting at XL over his fan until he cuts HC off like “omg (fake alias) is that you? I haven’t seen you in over 200 years you never let me properly thank you” and is like excitedly chattering at XL who is like ???? ive never met you before but you know a name i used so we must have?? and SQQ is like “LBH this is the man that rescued me that one time 200 years ago! They were planning on sacrificing me to that god of misfortune so it would curse you to fall during that rebellion. (fake alias) swooped in and rescued me and waited with me until i had enough energy to fly back home, I was going to take you back with me for a reward but you disappeared as I was preparing to leave” and XL blue screens cause he just is so bad with faces and names before hes like “Oh!! Shen Yuan!! yes yes i remember now! wow lmao i see youre doing good, oh this must be ur husbands u talked so much about”

Like a flipped switch LBH went from “give me one good reason why i shouldnt kill you were u stand” to “I WILL SHOWER U IN BLESSINGS NAME UR PRICE ULL GET IT FOR SAVING MY SHIZUN!!!” and invites them for dinner and HC is sweating but also just pleased that nothing bad will happen to XL now that he has favor, but LQG is still glowering over the fact that he’s JW’s apprentice but over dinner they talk about what happened and XL is sosososo sorry and shares how he was tricked and abused by JW too and then they both just bond over fighting and swords and even agree to spar one martial god to another and everything just kinda ends up being ok

#amber rambles #fic idea #svsss #tgcf #i dont think ill ever write the full thing but i might make a drabble snippet

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smalltragedy · 4 years

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* herman tommeraas, cis man + he/him | you know donovan mercer, right? they’re twenty one, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, four months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to ice boy by corbin like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole fear hidden behind a stoic stare, bleeding from your nose and from your gums, and the night sky with all its stars, with all its mystery and unknown thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 15th, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

looks away as i finally post his intro after being kinda awol fr however long. i love him a lot n hes also bri’s character mercy’s younger brother so u hv to be nice to him. think abt mercy’s life. then think abt ducky. im sry in advance tht his intro’s a little longer ive hd ducky fr like. a year or two n i’ve been playing him a While <3 as always like this if u’d like 2 plot n i’ll try 2 msg u bck bt otherwise im gna just hop right into threads bc obv i need to. change my methods.

ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DRUG ABUSE, EYE INJURY, GANG MENTIONS TW.

mini playlist.

father ;; the front bottoms / ice boy ;; corbin / lose yourself ;; eminem / my own worst enemy ;; lit / say it ain’t so ;; weezer / maps ;; yeah yeah yeahs / star stopping ;; lil peep / benz truck ;; lil peep / trauma ;; nf / northern downpour ;; panic! at the disco / your graduation ;; modern baseball.

statistics.

full name: donovan mercer.

nickname(s): ducky.

birthday: march 15th, 1999.

zodiac: pisces sun, aquarius moon, aquarius ascending.

mbti & temperament: intp & theorist / phlegmatic.

label: the despondent.

hometown: hell’s kitchen, new york.

sexuality: bisexual (bt not out).

pinterest.

biography.

born in hell’s kitchen to vinny mercer and a mother who ran out of the hospital as fast as she could, as soon as she was able. she’d gone so quick that she’d never given ducky a middle name - just donovan. the younger brother of mercy (shoutout 2 bri)

his father’s the right-hand man of a well known mob boss named lars amaretto, and so, you can imagine the kind of environment ducky (& mercy) grew up in. weapon & drug dealings, interrogations, violence around every corner. a brutal way of living, no place to raise two children.

implied abuse tw // their father was not kind, or merciful - and ducky was a runt compared to mercy, small and sensitive and kinder than his brother. weak, and filled with softness, with big brown eyes and a smile that should’ve been able to melt ice - but it didn’t. and it never did.

he cried often, and was punished often for it until he learned to stop crying - at least in front of their father, and mercy too, at some point. only in the comfort of his room, with doors locked and blinds drawn closed. implied abuse end of tw

he dreamed, too, dreamt often. he’d been obsessed with outer space since childhood, as long as he could remember. school had once shown man landing on the moon, and ducky wanted that. wanted to be that, wanted to be there, up with the stars, discovering the unthinkable.

abuse mention // but it was discouraged, heavily so - projects destroyed by an angry fist only to be reconstructed to the best of ducky’s ability, with mercy’s help, all throughout the night. he’d saved up for a telescope when he was thirteen, but it’d been destroyed almost immediately when discovered. not a day went by that their father didn’t tell ducky that he was, first and foremost, stupid - and would always be. end of abuse mention

to the point where he stopped trying, simply. he never graduated high school.

abuse mention // anxiety mention // anyways … at the age of fifteen, he’d have enough. he was sick of the abuse, the pain - the crying behind closed doors, the sneaking around, the constant feeling of needing to escape, impending doom, anxiety attacks in the shower and in school bathrooms and at the back of the bus where nobody sat besides him because he was - that boy, the son of that man, the brother of that brute. he’d been a teenager and he’d already been an outcast by all means - an outcast in his family, no matter how hard he tried to appease vinny, and an outsider everywhere else.

the plan took months of preparation, paper ripped out from the back of his school notebook and stuffed beneath his mattress, details of his escape from a checklist of essential items to makeshift maps of bus routes to different cities.

all for nothing, the moment vinny discovered it, the edge of a map sticking out after a rushed morning.

heavy abuse tw // violence tw // it’d been the same day he’d gotten the nickname - ducky - the way the wound wrapped below his mouth, and the way it’d begun to heal - puckered, at first, like a duck’s bill. a better name than eyepatch, at the very least. the scar’d run from the arch of his left brow, across his eye, down his cheek, and below his lip. his eye sustained injury, and not allowed to see a doctor about it, it never healed properly.

eye injury // corneal scarring, impairing his left eye. astronaut dreams destroyed, but not in a matter of seconds. in the matter of an hour, maybe more - and that’d been much, much worse.

he stopped trying to run away after that. tried to be more like their father, more like mercy - more brutish, less feeling. spoke less, and less. spoke hardly at all, unless spoken to first.

still didn’t matter. still lived his days in fear, still knew it’d never change. nothing would ever change.

the mercer brothers have been floating around the north carolina scene for ~5ish years now, trailing after their father who is consistently chasing after their mother with no luck. they’re currently residing in palm motel. can we get a hell yeah?

personality & facts.

he’s actually very? intimidating? when you first meet him. mercy’s younger brother, with a criminal’s record almost as long as his - a scarred face and a mean resting face. it takes at least five minutes of conversation beyond small talk before it starts to weigh on your mind that maybe, he’s not as bad as he seems.

and - well, he isn’t. but he’s guarded - so guarded. more-so than mercy, because mercy’s quicker to anger, quicker to react, and ducky tries so hard to drown out the noise. but he’s not a robot, and his facial expressions can give him away in a second.

he’s seen what happened when mercy had a glimpse of something good in his life (though, it wasn’t actually good at all - mercy had someone, at least. at the very least) - and how quickly it’d all fallen, and so ducky puts a barrier between him and others. distant, as much as he can be.

it hurts, because ducky isn’t by any means antisocial. he doesn’t hate people - he wants to be normal, wants to have friends and a girlfriend - or maybe even a boyfriend, god - but he’s so afraid. ducky is, by nature, a very scared person. terrified to his very core. he knows there is always eyes on him, and mercy too, and he knows that nothing is worth getting someone else hurt.

you know him as mercy’s little brother, and he’s quiet you know that - but his name is ducky, and you think - he’s not too bad. and he knows this, knows the doubts. knows that it’ll get back to mercy, eventually, that his brother is nothing more but a pussy. so he fights more than he’d like to, against the guilt that buries itself deep within his chest with every thrown fist. he throws up, afterwards, in the garbage can outside. too much to drink, he says, rare grin - because grins are convincing, and grins with bleeding gums are intimidating. he learned that from his brother.

violence makes him sick to his very stomach. he can’t watch horror films, or even action films, without feeling queasy. there’s been more times than he can count where he’d thrown up after a fight, or after an interrogation, usually in private but in the occasional presence of mercy.

they fight, a lot, sometimes - ducky’s too soft, too weak, and it’s bad and it’s terrible and ducky knows that mercy’s afraid. for him, of their father, and his wraith. ducky knows that if mercy isn’t hard on him now, their father will be on him harder. still. there’s resentment, small but there, like the flame of a match. he doesn’t know what’ll happen when there’s nothing more to burn, but he doesn’t want to find out. he’s afraid to find out.

he’s still in love with the moon and the stars, and the planet’s - and their moons, too. its subdued, now, though. a silent passion - one that is often not watered, left for rot. he sneaks into engineering lectures at the community college, occasionally, or physics, or whatever peeks the small curiosity inside of him.

commits small acts of kindness when nobody looks. doors held open, the meals of elderly folk eating alone suddenly paid. picks up litter besides trash bins, and always cooks extra than what he needs and leaves the rest for mercy. it’s these small things that make him feel, just the slightest, better about himself.

because god - there are layers and layers of self-loathing. it’s a labyrinth, and he’d never speak of it - but he can’t stand his own reflection. doesn’t keep photos of his family, only a few sparingly of mercy.

a liar, sad to say. has little experience with. ehem. intimacy, and the bodies of others, but lies often and says that he does. mostly to his brother, but word travels quick - and he’s not nearly as much as a fuckboy as is rumored, having only been with a handful of girls, if even that. it’s better this way - if people know that he throws others away like they’re nothing.

he ghosts often, too, if he does get to talking with anybody. the moment ducky feels a spark, something pulling at his poor heart, he ghosts. he develops feelings too easily, too often than he’d like. has left many friendships without explanation, because of this. you know the priest in fleabag season 2? the scene where he comes to fleabag’s house? yeah. tht’s ducky!

has maybe half the amount of clients that mercy does, but he’s working on it.

pretends he doesn’t care as much as he does. pretends a lot, like there’s nothing soft to him. but a trained eye can see clearly through this. even so - even if you can see that there’s more to ducky than violence and drug deals - you’d still have to break through a dozen walls.

in the rare occasion you get him talking - i mean, talking a lot - he’ll talk about space. ramble off a dozen useless facts about dwarf stars and black holes and all of jupiter’s moons. about a video game he likes, about nothing and everything at all. but as soon as he begins, he stops - embarrassed. apologizes, shuts his mouth, disappears to wherever. anywhere but there.

drug abuse // has a. complicated relationship with benzos n xanax n a various assortment of painkillers. ironic bc he hates drugs due to. his chosen career n wldnt do most of what they sell, bt yknow. this ws inevitable. hates beer bt forces himself 2 drink it bc toxic masculinity probably man idk.

overall just … he’s a soft boy, with a big heart - bigger than anybody else in his family, that’s for sure, but his exterior is far different than that, and it’s hard to tell.

violence mention // purposely loses fights so that he doesn’t have to severely hurt someone. because sometimes he just - he was raised in a violent environment, and sometimes he snaps. sometimes ducky just fucking snaps. and his vision goes red, and he can’t control himself - because need to survive kicks in, and violence is all he knows. if someone pushes ducky - pushes him enough, he breaks. he fights back. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows, and that’s not an excuse - and he knows this, and god, he’s so tired. he is so. tired.

wanted plots.

u look good tonight ... ;; wld love a connection in which he is feeling emotionally compromised n maybe kinda hs a thing w someone bt hes like. very unreliable n kinda ghosting bc he is very afraid n it wld b maybe bad fr them to b anything other than hook ups. cld apply to smth very intensive or smth very surface lvl i’ll take thousands.

palms sweaty ... moms spaghetti ... ;; ppl tht ducky just hs fkn brawled. cld b anybody fr any reason. ducky prob lost n he prob lost on purpose bt also ur muse cld maybe kick ducky’s ass? cld b a fake fight cld b a real fight. cld b a npc fight n then ur muse cn patch up ducky? possibilities endless. maybe they hv a nice spaghetti dinner n both of them r both bruised up frm their fight. sometimes fights end in spaghetti dinners. thanks eminnem or whatever.

own worse enemy... ;; ducky needs friends bt hes bad at making friends n sometimes he fks shit up by pushing ppl away n self sabotaging n being a major cunt n sometimes he just ghosts bt hes always very remorseful abt it? this cld b a very like. up n down friendship of any type its just. where do they stand. r they friends. r they enemies. r they lovers? probably not lovers. prob just platonic. but still its the thought tht counts.

and also ;; literally just like. anything. clients who buy off of him n like. casual friends n casual enemies n casual hookups. ppl hes ghosted. ppl hes embarrassed himself in front of. maybe ur muse tries to get ducky to socialize or maybe ducky is like. u are too much fr me. n ur muse runs off crying. endless possibilities all u hv to do is call this number now.

#abuse tw #violence tw #drug abuse tw #gangs mention #eye injury tw #irvingintro #( ducky mercer. ) about. / ice boy.#sighs sm #also sry fr hw embarrasingly late this is #did i even spell tht rigth? no #did i spell tht one right? bno.#fuck.

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a-libra-writes · 5 years

Text

Steady - Stannis x Wife!Reader

Hi, no one asked for this shit but hERe I AM WITH IT. I swear we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled imagines and alphabets after this hahaha. Thanks for being patient while ive been recovering, i finally feel human again :p

Summary: idk its smut and domestic fluff and some backstory i just. This stuff gets away from me, yall. Takes place just a year or two after Robert was crowned.

Y/N finished her cold drink with a speed that was quite unladylike. She at least refrained from releasing a heavy breath as she set the goblet down. Her handmaiden gave her a look of understanding and a handkerchief to pat herself down.

“Shall I bring you another drink, my lady?”

Y/N wanted to say yes, but drinking this much honeyed ice-milk probably wasn’t great for her stomach. The sweetness was going to catch up to her. She patted her brow with the handkerchief and said, “Just water, if you please.”

The handmaiden bowed and exited the room. The woman’s face had only the slightest pink on her nose and cheeks, and she still looked cool in her simple clothes. She probably didn’t sweat until she walked at a brisk pace.

Y/N was the Lady of Dragonstone, sister-in-law to the king, and yet she felt far less elegant sweating like this in her parlor. She’d braided her hair and wrapped it high in a bun to give her neck some relief; coincidentally that was also the fashion in the South. The only jewels she could manage to wear were simple and light, and most of her Northern wardrobe was changed out for beautiful yet thin dresses of linen.

Her father would’ve balked at her wearing them, but he wasn’t the one withstanding this Southern summer. The ocean air coming from Blackwater Bay and these damned iced drinks were her only reprieve in the day.

At least in the evening, the air was blissfully cool and smelled of the ocean, although she had to be careful of the direction of the wind – she still wasn’t used to the more rancid smells of King’s Landing, and she likely wouldn’t ever be. She’d rather sweat to death in her own skin than invite that filth into her room.

She moved to the cushioned seat below a great window that overlooked Blackwater Bay, and as she opened the window, she saw the water peppered with all manner of boats, ships and sails. There was nothing like watching the sea and ships to help pass the time, and they were often her companions when she read or wrote.

She had brought her book and only read a few pages before she became distracted. One of the sails looked familiar, and it reminded her of one of the first nights she’d arrived and marveled at the bay, and the beautiful view right here in her chambers.

Y/N wondered how long she stayed sitting on the roomy windowsill, propped up by her pillows, watching them all. It must have been some time, because her newly wed husband approached her of his own accord.

“You’ll want to close that window before you sleep,” Stannis said. He had to lean down a little, as to not completely tower over her. “There’s all sorts of foulness in the air here.”

Y/N nodded, she’d already smelled it as she arrived. “I was just watching the sunset, and the ships. I love how the water sparkles under them.”

He said nothing, and Y/N had grown used to that in the short time they’d been married. She rather liked it, as she was not much of a talker herself. Too much of her childhood was her father forcing her into the circles of well-to-do ladies with eligible sons, and then in her maidenhood, being forced to talk to the sons themselves.

She had pointed out into the sea, toward a large vessel. “I’ve only seen that sort of ship twice. What is it?”

Stannis stepped closer, enough that she could pick up his body heat, and his tall body leaned over her to look out to the bay. “A Myrish trade ship, likely the property of a spice merchant. Do you see the scorpion on its sail? That’s common for Myrish ships. It’s either reptiles or insects, or coins. The thread embroided on that sail is gold, I’m sure of it.”

He grew up on Storm’s End, after all, watching the coast of Shipbreaker Bay, and his current seat was the island of Dragonstone. She wondered if Stannis Baratheon had ever been away from a coast for more than a few weeks.

Likewise, Y/N had never been away from her mountain home until she married. As horrid at the heat of the South was, she could tolerate it if it meant she stayed by the sea.

“I love it,” Y/N said, and meant it. She smiled at him like she smiled now, remembering the distinct color that rose to her husband’s cheeks that evening. It was strange how the court talked about him, how they had such distaste for what they considered a rigid and cold person. She hadn’t seen him that way.

True, he was always tense, but that’s because he was always thinking about far too much, far too often, concerning himself with this or that issue with the realm. It was his job as part of the small council, after all, but he seemed to carry a heavier burden than the others. Y/N wondered about that.

Lady Y/N was so lost in her thoughts, she forgot her handmaiden was returning with water. She thanked the girl and asked, “Would you happen to know when the small council meeting will finish?”

“Perhaps not for another hour, my lady.”

She had some time, then. Y/N returned to her book and leaned against the cool stone wall, glancing at the waves now and again. Again, she began to neglect the words on the page and let her mind wander.

From the beginning, Stannis was different. He traveled all the way to the North to formally ask permission for her hand. He wanted a proper courting period, but being the relative of the King and having a duty so far away, he had no such luxury – not that her father would dare split hairs about tradition when it came to a king’s brother.

Still, he took her hand in the foyer of that cold, frigid castle and apologized for not giving her a proper courtship, one a lady of her standing deserved.

At that moment, Y/N realized that she had never been apologized to. She was certainly never given one by a lord.

He was sincere, Y/N could tell. She could always remember the suitors who lied, who made empty promises to her father and emptier ones to her. Her father sniffed them out eventually, often too slow for her liking, and threw them into the cold. It wasn’t for her sake, not really - he wanted a powerful alliance with an older house, to give standing to their relatively newer name.

They had money and a beautiful daughter, and what name was more deserving of both than the one that held the throne? Y/N should have been humiliated by his brazenness, but with Stannis, she could keep her dignity. All in all, Y/N could have done much worse.

She was never foolish to fancy what her marriage would be like; it wasn’t a luxury she allowed herself. Still, Y/N’s heart hurt at the thought of not marrying in a Godswood, as true Northern women ought to do. It was during this whirlwind courtship that Y/N asked, “My lord, is it true there’s a Godswood in the Red Keep?”

“There is, but it is no true Northern godswood,” Stannis said. “It is an acre of fine trees that are centuries old, but the heart tree is not a weirwood.”

He won’t lie to me. She thought. Not even to spare my feelings.

She always tried to keep her expressions even, to never betray her true emotion, but she must have shown something. Stannis added, “The ceremony will be in the Great Sept. It is a grand building, with seven towers. Many a bride would wish to marry there.”

“Many a Southern bride, perhaps.” Y/N said. She would be honest, too. “Still, I’ve heard much about the Great Sept’s beauty, and its seven towers and stained glass. Are they as grand as everyone says?”

“Yes.” Stannis responded curtly, and they stood in silence for some time. He suddenly continued. “The heartree at the Red Keep is not a proper weirdwood, true, but is a great oak. Tall as some towers, covered in old vines that try to curl into the wood. The gardeners have grown bright red flowers underneath, to honor the weirwoods in their way. It is not a proper Northern godswood, but it is a vast and well-kept wood in its own right. The ceremony can’t be there, but afterward, you can visit it anytime you like.”

He was trying to comfort her, Y/N had realized. He will try to spare my feelings then, in his own way. What a peculiar man.

When the day arrived, the Great Sept was indeed beautiful, unlike anything she’d ever seen. All seven towers glittering rainbows down in the sun, and inside, the beauty of the marble and statues of the Seven stole her breath. Even if they were not her gods, this was their place, and she felt their presence and humbled herself.

The stained glass shone bright across the marble floor, a motley of dancing colors, as though the gods were glad of their union. She ascended the tall steps in a dazzling gown of white silk and diamonds, Myrish lace and a train that followed long behind her. Stannis waited for her at the top, looking as still as the statues of the Sept, but she saw his eyes fill with softness as she took his hand and he helped her to the top step.

His fingers brushed her shoulders gently as he removed the cloak embroidered with her family’s sigil. With just as much gentleness, he wrapped her in a cloak of gold and black. His rough fingertips brushed her bare shoulders during the exchange, and it made her shiver a little.

The Great Septon spoke many elegant words, and Y/N was thankful she faced away from the crowd for most of the ceremony. She was positively sweating from the silk and warm Sept, but she kept her head high. She could feel a nervous energy radiating off Stannis, even without looking at him, although she stole some glances. He cut a good figure in his own groom’s clothes, although he stood as though he weren’t used to it.

A week after the ceremony, when she still struggled to adjust to her new living quarters and the Red Keep itself, Stannis suddenly asked her to accompany him. She took his arm and wondered with great curiosity where they were going. Then she understood.

It was an acre full of Northern trees, the godswood he had mentioned some time ago, and the great, stately oak was before her. It had more twisting, knotting branches than she could count. Two large men could hug the trunk and their fingers wouldn’t touch, and it was covered in a blanket of soft ivy vines, with a swath of red and white flowers growing under it. It was far more beautiful than he said.

Y/N couldn’t find her words, and she gazed at the heart tree until she heard Stannis ask, “Is it acceptable?”

As if either of them could change it if it wasn’t. This godswood had existed since the Red Keep had, after all. She spoke honestly. “It’s far lovelier than I could’ve thought. What an elegant heart tree.”

Stannis was pleased, she could tell. He didn’t tense up when she squeezed his arm and stood closer, or when she slightly pulled him down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I did nothing deserving gratitude,” Stannis said, although he didn’t speak with his usual assuredness, and he glanced away from her.

He was terribly awkward with women, she knew, and even months later he was trying a very methodical way to approach their marriage. It was what he knew, and that comforted him in this strange, new territory. Y/N understood, but she liked to trip him up when she could.

In fact, she was quite fond of doing so. One could say Y/N was fond of him. It was a novel idea, being fond of one’s husband, looking forward to toying with him, and being quite amused when he tried to please her.

More than that, she liked seeing his cheeks or ears turn red when she thanked him for helping her, praised something he did or gave him sweet affections. It seemed he was unused to such things, and didn’t know how to respond to them – and Y/N wasn’t a woman of conceit, but she was confident her beauty only contributed to his reservations.

Recalling these fond memories and thoughts, Y/N decided she wanted to fluster her husband a little more, and she was growing frustrated that he wasn’t here. Finally, she heard doors opening in the parlor room, and the shuffling of a chair.

Being the brother of the king, and a member of the Small Council, Stannis was given fine dwellings inside of the vast Red Keep. The apartment was made of several rooms - a parlor for entertaining that often went unused, an office for Stannis that included a small library, a bathing area, a dressing room, their shared chambers, and so on.

Y/N noticed both she and Stannis preferred to hide away in their apartments when the court was becoming too much, as it often did in the Red Keep. She set aside her book and found him by the large table in the center of their parlor, mulling over papers and books that likely didn’t fit on the desk in his office. Had he carried all of these here? Y/N recognized a star chart, and a diagram of a galley.

First, she pushed aside several curtains to give the place more light. Then she walked toward the serving table, already stocked before Stannis arrived, and poured two goblets. She set one down next to Stannis, then she sat next to him on the settee. He didn’t look up.

Hearing a sound she didn’t like, Y/N scooted closer to her husband and gently took his hand in her chin.

“What–?” Stannis startled, nearly knocking a goblet off the table. Before he could speak, Y/N ran her finger along his jaw.

“You shouldn’t do that,” She said, speaking softly as not to disturb the peacefulness that had settled over the room. “Your jaw will ache by the evening.”

“I know,” Stannis said briskly, but he touched his jaw where her fingers were a moment ago, and there was color rising to his cheeks. He really didn’t seem to notice how often he ground his teeth, and Y/N noticed him wincing and rubbing his chin.

It was amusing that just a small touch like that, or their shoulders brushing together, or her adjusting his doublet in the morning or offering to unbutton it in the evening; all would stir the stern man to blushing silence. It’s not that he disliked her, Y/N was sure. He just wasn’t always sure on how to proceed, and besides, his mind was often occupied with work.

Even if she admired the work ethic, sometimes she worried about the toll it took on him. Y/N smoothed his shoulder, sorting out a wrinkle in his grey doublet. Stannis’ dark blue eyes darted straight to her hand.

“The council ran late today, didn’t it?” She said, using words to distract from her touches. “Perhaps you should take an early supper, and continue this work afterward. You could use the respite.”

Stannis responded how she expected. “It’s important that I get the fleet up to shape by the end of the year. Renly has been dodgy with the standards of quality, and Littlefinger still needs to find the coin for the sailors and shipbuilders.”

From what she understood and heard around the Keep, Stannis was often at odds with the small council, but especially his younger brother Renly. They were of a different generation, years apart in maturity and experience, not to mention how the King favored Renly’s more lackadaisical governing. Y/N understood being in the middle of strong personalities. She nodded, “Indeed, but you’ll find yourself in dire straits if you don’t nourish your body or rest your mind. I could have your dinner brought here.”

Stannis considered it. “You would be dining alone in the great hall.”

“Yes, I want to avoid that, so I’ll dine here as well.” The king’s courtiers could be far too rowdy, and gods forbid if Y/N had to spend another evening pretending to enjoy the queen’s cloying smalltalk.

Before Stannis could protest, Y/N added, “I won’t be in your way. I’ll eat here in the parlor, while you take the office, or whichever works. Perhaps I’ll watch the ships.“

Stannis still had a thoughtful expression, considering her words. Y/N took the opportunity to place a surprise kiss on his cheek. She could feel the taller man shift a little in surprise.

“You won’t hear a sound from me,” She said sweetly, her lips still ghosting next to his skin. She felt him shiver, too.

She knew what the courtiers and lords whispered about them. They had the nerve to pity her, as though she’d made a poor match.

“That will keep,” Stannis finally spoke, now looking pointedly at his papers and not her. "You don’t have to … stay in another room. We can supp together.”

Pleased with his answer and her progress, Y/N stood slowly, ensuring their bodies brushed together a little, and making sure he could see how her dress clung to her hips. “Then, I’ll leave you to this for now. I’m going for a walk.“

She left the parlor, hoping he was watching her go as the thin dress fluttered about her legs and swaying hips.

She was sitting upon the bay window and gazing out at the Blackwater again, as she did in the evenings, but it was exceptionally late. Stannis thought she had gone to sleep after they shared supper. Most of the candles in the chamber were extinguished, save for a few on a tall table beside the window. The flames danced sharply when the sea breeze came in.

“You’re still awake,” He said, speaking quietly as though their voices would waft out of the thick stone walls and wake someone. “Did you sleep?”

His lady wife was in a nightshift made of thin cotton, specifically the one that hugged her waist tightly and dipped to expose her chest. Those features, plus how it pooled at her feet even when she sat, made it seem a bit inconvenient. He’d say as much to her, but often he was distracted with how the fabric slid along her body.

She smiled at him, and it was comforting to see that at the end of a tiring day. He found himself looking forward to it more and more. He wouldn’t consider the Red Keep his home, nor was Dragonstone, but something about Y/N gave him that feeling.

“Oh, I woke up and thought I would wait for you.”

“You don’t have to do such a thing. You ought to sleep and keep away from the window,” Stannis said, but it came out much less stern than usual. Y/N noticed how his broad shoulders weren’t as stiff as they usually were, and when he removed his boots it seemed to take more effort than it should’ve.

Y/N glided off the windowsill, as graceful as a ghost, with her skirt flowing behind her. She promptly began removing the fasteners on his doublet. Stannis wanted to tell her it was unneeded, but his energy immediately went to stifling a yawn. It came out as a harsh breath, instead.

“You deserve to get some proper rest,” Y/N said, using that tone. Combined with the graceful fingers that had already opened the doublet and touching his chest, he shivered. He bent his knees so he could slide the doublet off his shoulders, and Y/N set it aside carelessly.

Her fingers pressed against his chest and nudged him in the direction she wanted. “It’s the dead of the night, dawn is only hours away, and you’re still up. You should look after your health, dear.”

Her sweet endearments and worry was completely at odds with how her lips kissed at his neck and her hand traced downward. He must’ve been more tired than he thought, because when she held his face in her hand his chest squeezed as though she held his lungs instead. Y/N kissed him and he leaned against the wall behind him, pulling her in closer.

He leaned into her touch, yearning for it, something he didn’t know he needed right now. Y/N broke their breathless kiss but quickly went back to kissing along his jaw, making his stomach flip with each one. When their lips met again, his hands squeezed her waist and the other ran down her hips. He could feel her warm, flushed skin perfectly through the thin nightgown, and didn’t want to admit how much he loved running his hands down it.

He may have been much stronger, but Stannis didn’t resist as Y/N lightly pushed him properly against the wall. She was lovely, soft and warm, and he was helpless when she was like this, running her hands up her chest and wanting him - he hoped it was want, even affection, anything other than duty and obligation driving her actions.

Stannis pulled her closer, grasping her hips, hearing her become breathless again. A moan caught in Y/N’s throat as his strong grip squeezed her, and his burning face pressed against her sweet-smelling neck. His feverish kisses were firm and made her squirm against him. “Y/N.”

“Come to bed,” She shuddered as he moved down to her collarbone. Her order was followed eagerly. Stannis easily gathered her in his arms, her nightgown slipping up her legs. She still planted kisses on his face and neck that made it difficult to navigate the dark to their bed.

Stannis tried to set her down easily, but her warmth and touches were distracting, never mind his own arousal. Before he could make sense of the darkness, Y/N was tugging on his shoulder to bring him into another kiss. He found her waist and pulled her close.

Y/N slipped her legs up his sides, her dress falling easily and his fingers made up for the chill that touched her skin. Stannis slid up the fabric until it pooled at her waist. In the candlelight, she could see how flushed he was, and his blue eyes had darkened enough to almost look like the bay.

“Not tired anymore, hm?” Y/N teased.

In spite of their current position and what they were just doing, Stannis felt himself flushing anew. Bluntly, he responded, “No, not at all.”

She giggled in a way that made him want to steal even more of her breath, so he did, kissing her neck and feeling her skin tremble under him. His other hand ran up the leg that was already hooked at his waist.

Stannis pressed himself against her, grunting at the friction. He was surprised at his own desire to stay here and not pull away, even if his damned trousers needed to be dealt with. He was bombarded with a myriad of lustful thoughts, especially as he touched Y/N’s thighs. Of all the thoughts, a distinct one kept surfacing: He wanted to lick them.

Maybe if he wasn’t sleep deprived and in a lust-addled haze, he’d be scandalized. It seemed like a perfectly normal thing to do right now, reasonable, even. Y/N had wonderful legs. They should be kissed and appreciated like the rest of her.

His thoughts were interrupted when she impatiently tugged at his arm. “Stannis, touch me. Please.”

It was then he realized the candles were fast going out, and it was mostly shadows in the room. He wanted to see her face so badly.

“Y/N, I ... I want to taste you,” He stumbled out in a mess of words, his breath coming short.

Y/N’s hips rolled up and grinded against his, making him groan and quickly pin her down in place. She always moaned from his rough tough, like now, and her legs nudged him. “Then do it,” She said, her impatience laced with lust.

With that consent, Stannis pushed her long nightshift aside so roughly, he thought he heard threads rip. He slid down and kissed her legs, relishing in how hot they were. He kissed her thighs, tasting their delicious warmth, and grabbed her calf as he pushed her open further.

“Ah, gods-!” Y/N gasped. She squirmed again, so Stannis gripped her legs harder, feeling how his fingers sunk into the soft skin. She was so beautiful. Stannis had seen pretty women, objectively beautiful ones, and heard how men lusted and admired after them. He’d never understood until now, and he was sure Y/N couldn’t compare to any of them. They must’ve not, if he hadn’t felt this way until now.

He kissed the inside of her thighs, feeling her quiver under his lips. She arched into him as he kissed just outside her smallclothes. She was soaked through; he could smell her warmth and even feel it. There was still anxiety in the back of his mind, the fear of doing something wrong, as he often seemed to do with women… Although he hadn’t ever thought of doing these things to them.

Stannis slipped off her smallclothes and let them hang around her ankle. The anxiety still climbed up his chest, and he wished he could see her, not just the shadows of her lovely body.

He ran his thumb over her clit, feeling how wet she was, hearing her instant reaction. Y/N’s thigh flexed under his other hand’s firm grip. “Ah! Stannis, please …”

Having his sweet wife beg under him was almost too much, so Stannis didn’t make her wait. His tongue ran up her cunt, pressing against her clit, tasting all of her wetness. Having her warmth around his cock was much different than this. If Stannis stopped to think about it, he might enjoy this more - but he couldn’t think anymore.

Y/N arched back sharply and raised her hips, so he had to hold her down again. He may have been more slight than Robert, but he still had a man’s strength, and Y/N whimpered as he used it.

Stannis took a heavy breath. He tasted her on his lips. “Am I hurting you?”

“N-no, you aren’t. Don’t stop, keep like that.” Y/N quivered. Her heart is beating quickly, but she knows his is probably thumping like a rabbit. Just to please her, her husband gave a tight squeeze to her hips with both his hands while his tongue lapped at her.

Y/N didn’t try to quiet her moans, and she said his name and praised him. Stannis’ hand slipped up from her hips to up her stomach, feeling her flushed skin. He wanted to focus on her pleasure, something to think about so he wouldn’t come undone so early.

Her fingers found his hand and she squeezed it before bringing it to her lips. She came as she kissed his fingers, her lewd voice filling up the room, and for once Stannis didn’t worry about anyone overhearing. The sensations of her warm breath, soft lips and wet core were taking away all his attention.

Y/N enjoyed the feeling of his strong fingers around her’s, still rough in spite of him being a lord. Coming down from her high, she playfully licked a few of his fingertips and said in a low, sweet voice, “Thank you, Stannis. It felt so good~”

“Y/N,” Stannis almost stuttered her name, and felt foolish for it, but he was buzzing while she was still coming down. He found himself pressing his body against her smaller one, his heart hurting and his cock aching at the same time. She reached for him, and he more than eagerly pulled her into his grasp.

She wanted him to be close, she wanted him. Stannis kissed her neck and when she ran her hands down his broad back, he almost buried his face in her shoulder to hide. It was too much, she was too much. He wanted to think straight, for just a moment, but he could still taste her juices on his lips and he wished it wasn’t over so quickly.

The stormlord felt fingers running through his dark hair, nails gently scratching along his scalp. The other hand traced up his back and made him shiver.

“Come here,” Y/N still had some breathlessness in her voice, but she was ready to keep going. Her desire hadn’t cooled off, if anything, it was stronger. “Stannis …”

With her sweet words, the strange feelings in his chest - panic? - kept swirling. Stannis remembered his own arousal, and moved his hips against Y/N’s, effectively pinning her underneath him. She sighed and wrapped those legs around him, bringing him closer.

“Please,” She said, and that was all it took for Stannis to set to awkwardly removing his trousers. They were a damned prison, and he was glad to be rid of them.

He grasped her hips again, his fingers pressing into bruises he already made earlier, but she still melted and moaned under him. An anxious thought tried to pull him away, telling him to be careful – but that became an afterthought as she spread her legs and he easily sunk himself in. If her skin was on fire, then her core was an entirely different heat that he wanted desperately.

Stannis bit at his lower lip harshly, knowing he wouldn’t last long. Y/N met his thrusts by rolling her hips, digging her nails in his arm and gasping words he lost track of. He heard his name several times, and when he picked up his pace, she stumbled over it in the most wonderful way.

For a few minutes, the sound of their bodies and breathes was the only noise, until Y/N cried out and her moans faded into whimpers. Stannis felt her squeeze around his cock, and for the dozenth time he wished for light so he could see her wetness drip around him. He wanted to clean her with his mouth, he thought instantly.

The image of her core dripping from their union and his tongue back inside it was enough to make the Baratheon shudder and groan her name. Stannis thrusted harshly and came shortly after that.

He had to catch himself on the bed, the fatigue of the day and their actions catching up at once. Y/N’s hands idly wandered up his arm, then held his face, and the darkness bothered him again. The candles had long been out. Y/N tried to kiss him, but she missed and got his nose.

Stannis flinched and Y/N giggled. Her fingers slowly felt for his lips. “Sorry, let me try again.”

Her legs were wrapped around his waist, he was still inside her, and Stannis felt a bit lost. He lowered himself, very careful not to rest too much weight on her, and let her pull him into a long kiss.

What was he supposed to say? What were the words for the thoughts that came racing back, like they always did after he and Y/N were together? He didn’t want to leave her warmth, but it was late, and his body felt heavy.

They eventually untangled themselves, and Stannis found a cloth to clean Y/N’s legs. He was willing to leave to get their nightclothes, but Y/N pulled him back and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Are you thinking?” She asked.

“Yes.” It was a strange question, but he answered simply. His tired mind was rattling off all sorts of nonsense, of the council and his duties and Y/N and their marriage.

“Try to sleep first,” Y/N said, knowing saying that was usually futile, but she knew he was exhausted. “Let’s discuss it in the morning, hm?”

Stannis didn’t want to leave his wife’s embrace, but he’d be damned if he’d fall asleep by her whilst lacking an undignified amount of clothes. After adjusting some blankets and finding some clothes, they were back to Y/N resting her head on his chest.

“Do you want your nightshift?” Stannis asked, trying to be casual about the bare body pressed against him.

Y/N hummed. “Hmm, no.”

He tucked the blanket around her anyhow. Being from the North, she claimed the night’s humidity and heat was enough, but Stannis was still convinced she’d get a chill. She eventually moved off his chest, but still stayed close, her breathing starting to even out as she fell asleep.

Tired as he was, Stannis still couldn’t rest until after her. When she was close like this, it gave him hope that she cared. Fulfilling the expecting duty of a wife didn’t have to include being as close and comfortable as a cat, but here she was. In the morning, if he accidentally woke her up as he got ready, he knew there’d be a sleepy smile for him.

Stannis frowned but fought the urge to start grinding his teeth. Intead, he pressed his cheeks against his wife’s soft hair and took in the smells of her soap and perfumes. His breath crossed her forehead, and Stannis’ last thought was wondering if it troubled her.

"I understand there are congratulations in order,” Sabitha said, getting straight to the point, as she often did. As they pulled away from a strong hug, she wasted no time in looking pointedly at Y/N’s abdomen. “That dour stag got a fawn on you. What a fine thing.”

Y/N shook her head at her old friend’s words. So direct and a bit unladylike, as always. It was good to see her again. They grew up together, their fathers and Houses being close, but then Sabitha had been married off and sent all the way to the Reach. The day she left, it was like losing a sister. Y/N was so sure they’d never see each other again.

Now, given her position, Y/N could arrange visits, especially with Sabitha’s husband being involved with trade in King’s Landing. She and Y/N planned to take in the sights and enjoy the court feasts, but more importantly, they had lots to catch up on. It had been almost three years since they last saw each other.

Their laughter echoed softly through the winding garden, and soon the two ladies arrived at the private docks that led to the back of the Red Keep. Ships rarely came here directly, but one could get a clear view of which galleys were coming into the main ports of King’s Landing.

The sea wind blew their hair and dresses where it pleased, and they ducked under rows of orange trees to get a break from it. A bench was waiting for them, and Y/N found herself absently touching her stomach as she tidied her white linen dress.

“You’re hardly showing,” Sabitha commented. She was quick to retrieve a ripe orange from one of the trees. “I can’t imagine you’ve had to let any dresses out yet.”

“Wrong on both counts, Sab. See?” Well, she wasn’t showing as much as some would expect, but Y/N definitely experienced the annoyance of digging through her closet for something to fit, then giving up and just having the royal seamstresses do their magic. She imagined she’d have to call on them several times.

"Enjoy that, and how you look now, because soon you’ll be waddling about and looking like someone strapped pillows over your stomach and tits.” Sabitha finished peeling her orange and happily bit into it.

Y/N rolled her eyes and took a few oranges from the trees for herself. After some idle back and forth, Sabitha leaned against her friend and said with a mouthful of fruit, “So, tell me the truth of it, esteemed Lady Y/N of Dragonstone.”

Y/N made a face at the mess Sabitha was making, and retrieved a handkerchief to dab at her friend’s chin. “What do you mean, most dearest Lady Sabitha?”

“Don’t be coy. Your lord husband, the king’s brother. I’ve heard things about him, but none of it interested me until now. Tell me all about it.”

"About what, exactly?”

Sabitha sighed with impatience. "Your marriage bed, obviously. That’s his fawn, now tell me how he got it on you - details, please.”

"Sabitha!” Y/N blushed, but her grin matched her friend’s. Sabitha was trying to keep a straight face, like they were discussing a dull ball, but her own facade was cracking. She didn’t blame her friend, she knew the castle was whispering about it, people she’d never met congratulating her and courtiers staring pointedly at her abdomen. Some days she just stayed in the apartments.

A pregnant lady was nothing special, not normally. The problem is the Queen wasn’t with child yet, and Stannis was, well … Stannis. His cold reputation, combined with his brother’s known affairs and the Queen’s harsh temperament made for a volley of unsavory rumors that Y/N was constantly dodging.

Thank the gods Sabitha was here to distract her. Y/N didn’t tell her friend that she’d made excuses and avoided the court for the past week. She was strong, but the North was never like this, and while Stannis would grind his teeth and harshly rebuke any rumors, sometimes it was just easier for Y/N to get away from it all.

“I mean it. He’s tall, so he’s proportionate, hm? Not too bad in the shoulders, I suppose, and if he’d just smile once in a blue moon. Anyway, how do you talk him into it?”

“Sabitha, I’m not – oh no, I’m not entertaining this.” Y/N sputtered, and gave a light shove to her friend’s shoulder.

“You were always cold with men! I’m curious!”

“That’s because Father entertained some of the most foolish men I’ve ever met, if you could even call them that. I’ll have you know, Stannis takes very good care of me, and I’m fond of him.” It was a little embarrassing to admit such a thing, but it was the truth, and Y/N felt the warm affection come over her all over again. “He works hard for the realm, and for my comfort.”

Sabitha made an undignified little snort. She was halfway through another orange. “Oh, I see.”

Y/N blushed. “What.”

“Well, well, I suppose this summer air can melt anyone, hm? This is high praise, coming from the girl who’d step all over the Manderly boy’s feet to keep him from dancing with her, and made a Glover cry -”

“I didn’t! Well, so I did, but he shouldn’t have been so brazen!”

Sabitha laughed. “He kissed your cheek! You and Lord Stannis are perfect for each other. A glacier meeting an iceberg, both melting from a lustful summer heat - Ow!”

Sabitha cried out with surprise as an orange pelted her shoulder, then another at her chest, and she was quick enough to hop off the bench and run to avoid the third. She ended up falling over and giggling madly as she hid behind the trees.

“Y/N! Just because it’s summer – that doesn’t mean you can waste perfectly good fruit!”

“You’re lucky I don’t have tomatoes!” Y/N managed to pelt Sabitha one more time, and the lady squeaked with laughter. Anyone watching them would think they’d gone mad, or were two silly girls playing, not two married ladies.

“Please, my sweet lady, forgive me,” Sabitha cooed, finding her way back to Y/N and giving her a hug.

“Hugs won’t let you get away with everything,” Y/N said, even if she was already returning the gesture. She missed her friend and her family’s Northern keep, even her silly father and busybody mother. She sighed, leaning into the embrace and not liking the idea of Sabitha going home.

She felt her friend patting her hair, like she always did. “You can’t let the court control you and frighten you into hiding, not even the Queen.”

“Stannis thinks I should go to Dragonstone.” Y/N said. She hadn’t told Sabitha this yet. She’d never seen the gloomy fortress herself, but she’d heard tales of it, and read the books. She’d seen Stannis’ face and demeanor turn dark when he talked about it. Still, it was a reprieve …

“You shouldn’t,” Sabitha said, a little too quickly. She corrected herself. “I mean, I’ve heard the rumors. Some of them are … not pleasant. I think it would make you look guilty.”

“I am the Lady of Dragonstone, technically it’s my place, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you and your husband have been doting and cooing - oh, don’t give me that face, as much as Stannis can - and for you to suddenly be sent away? It doesn’t look good, Y/N.”

Y/N sighed heavily. The weariness was catching up to her now. She felt like she had to expend more and more energy to do the things she always did, and Y/N wasn’t sure if that was because of the baby or all this sudden attention and intrigue that was being paid to her.

“You have a point.” She conceded. “I don’t want to go. I just … gods, no one really cared before. Now the Queen glares at me with those green eyes and anytime she talks to me, it’s like the whole room is staring.”

Sabitha nodded, and the two women sat together on the bench again, stray oranges around them. The sky and sea were still glittering brightly, but the mood around them had darkened. Sabitha tried to bring up a light subject. “Have you both considered a name?”

Wanting to change the subject too, Y/N said, “Stannis seems content to let me name the child, even if it’s a son.”

“How surprising. I’d think a man like that would have some sort of stuffy family name pocketed away, or worse, he’d go the boring route and name the child after the king.”

Y/N almost choked on a laugh. “Oh, Stannis would never.”

“And thank the gods, one is enough. Can you imagine a Roberta? Though my bet is on a boy with the look of his father.”

“You think so?”

“Well, I’d prefer a pretty girl or boy with your sweet face. Oh, that reminds me. Do you remember that knight who fought in the melee at Winterfell, it was some years back, let me think …”

While Sabitha told a long story, Y/N’s thoughts were still distanced. The worry of the court had been pressing on her so much, she hadn’t even thought about what the child might look like or be like. She thought of a steady boy with Stannis’ temperament and those clear blue eyes. Or maybe she’d have a pretty girl, one who looked like her, but with long black hair.

They were funny and strange thoughts, ones that gave her an odd mix of excitement, anticipation and a little anxiety. Had Stannis thought about it too? She wanted to ask him. Maybe he didn’t entertain such things, but she wanted to know.

She smiled, already thinking of what blunt answer he may give, or perhaps his eyes would soften, and he’d tell her something new. Something she didn’t know about him. In the safety of their shared chambers, he’d talk about Storm’s End, the good and the bad memories.

The Others can take the Queen and her tittering ladies. Y/N thought with resolve. I won’t hide anymore. I’ll smile now, and I’ll smile when I hold our child in my arms.

#stannis baratheon #stannis baratheon x reader #asoiaf #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #libra fics #im in too deep i love this ridiculous dramatic emotionally stunted man way too much #hes such a gem in the books

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