#baronpine

[cryptidmoe]

Mevolent's Generals

[facelessxchurch]

REDRAW: How to shut up your Nef 101 (2026 VS 2015)

I've been in this fandom for... over 11 years. I found another old pic from 2014 so that makes over 12 years. That is way too long! But at least my art improved in that time.

But meanwhile my motivation de-evolved 💀 The og took me multiple days and the redraw took me like 6 hours and I couldn't even be bothered to colour it-

How I view/write the characters changed a lot too; I straight up don't even like half of my early headcanons anymore. Tho the character that changed most is Mevolent and the one that changed the least is Baron, I'd say.

So the ending of the comic changed, leaning into a headcanon I don't think I had at the time? Essentially, while Skulduggery stops thinking clearly when he is angry, Nef is the mirror image to that and becomes one-track-minded when you dangle something he really wants in front of him due to him being hedonistic. Snake boi indulges a lot and has like every vice under the sun. So the two of them have opposite weaknesses

[skultrashfics]

Baronpine: Words left unsaid (1.5k)

This is a special birthday post for @spooklia !! (≧∇≦)/ Have the most pining Baronpine scenario I could think of, and I hope you had the most wonderful birthday. Thank you for always showing your support with my work (*>ω<*)

This day couldn't possibly get any worse. 

Nefarian Serpine's fingers curled around the glass containing his designated remedy, a dark mellow whisky swirling around a single ice cube. He watched as the corners of the ice slowly started to lose their sharp edge, the droplets of water pooling down into the amber ripples below distilling a shimmer of fragrant oil to glisten on the surface. 

Nefarian lifted the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply, relishing in the scent of the peat smoke lingering on the liquor. 

He settled into a moment of internal chaos, praying that this would be the time that his self-prescribed medication would finally work. All the muddled thoughts in his brain would lose their potency, paving way for the numbing effects of the alcohol.

It was bad enough that the bloody requiem ball was due to happen this weekend. A grand soiree, celebrating the end of the war that Nefarian himself had never had the privilege of being invited to. Moreover it seemed the universe enjoyed making him suffer, as his birthday was fast approaching. A stark reminder that another year had passed, leaving him isolated and alone within the constraints of the truce. 

He knew he would live to regret signing that document, one flick of a pen and his entire life had been reduced to 6 month check-ins and constant surveillance.

Thanks to the mortal population, the surveillance part was becoming easier and easier for those dogs working at The Sanctuary. Cameras, tracking devices… you name it, they put it to use.

Any suspicious activity had him being pulled into an interrogation room deep within the confines of those dank stone walls, surrounded by sickeningly condescending faces.

Sure, it was pleasing to know he was still thought of as dangerous. That his reputation for being delightfully malicious had not been completely glossed over with the passing of time. But those that held authority in this new regime dared to put his limits to the test- and each time he felt closer to cracking under the pressure, to act in accordance with his outrage of being belittled.

It would seem that even the people that had fought on the side of ‘good’ had despicable traits in them that could rival his own. Sore winners were the worst kinds of people.

Despite all the inconvenience of the strict guidelines set in place to let him continue living as a free(-ish) man, he was still able to stay in the comfort of his own home. A beautiful estate that gave him the illusion of privacy. He still had access to everything he needed to live comfortably, most essentially, all the alcohol he could drink was at his fingertips.

Such tasteless consumption may not have been the most socially acceptable pastime, likewise Nefarian himself could very much be regarded the same.

More favourable company might show concern for his current state, but the lackeys being kept in his minuscule social circles were only there to do his bidding.

They weren't there to offer him thoughts or opinions. Behind their panicked eyes there was nothing worthy of his attention.

 Even in a disheveled state, he held more power in the tips of his fingers than they did in their entire bodies. What did he care of their troubled glances at his orders to fetch a fresh decanter before ten in the morning? 

It wasn't his fault after all, if the two decanters of aged rum from yesterday hadn't been strong enough to scorch away the burdens of his past… at least he was refined enough to change his choice of poison from day to day.

Today, he had opted for Lagavulin 16, a well-known favourite of Baron Vengeous. It had been almost 50 years since Nefarian had last felt those blazing eyes cast upon him. 

The man was prideful to a fault, and had refused to sign the peace treaty to ensure his own freedom. Instead, he had chastised those who did sign for turning their backs on The Faceless Gods… cursing them with a venomous spite. Nefarian especially, had felt the animosity coming from The Baron that day. 

The two had turned their backs on each other, Nefarian deciding to abandon his goals from his time alongside Mevolent. Baron chose to pursue it with a renewed vigour. So he was taken into custody and a sentence passed, leaving Nefarian with no alternative other than to navigate his newfound seclusion; without the man who had begun to influence the shape of his life more than he had realised at the time.

Part of him recognised his own desire for that long estranged connection, which may be why he chose this particular spirit to drown his sorrows into…

That was enough. 

No more of these confounded thoughts. 

Nefarian lifted the glass to his lips and took a greedy gulp. Notes of brine danced up through his nose as the burn of the whisky took hold. The sweetness of the flavour perfectly offset the salty scent and he let out a relieved sigh, burying his heart deep in the flame now alight in his chest. 

Without hesitation, he brought the glass up once more and polished it off. The now tiny bead of ice slipped down the glass and clinked against his teeth. 

He remembered how Baron's lips had tasted of this same whisky. That fateful day when they had kissed meaningfully for the first time. No teasing, no torment, pure unbridled infatuation that had left the two of them lost for words… He brought his fingers up to the corner of his mouth, trembling as that memory threatened to take over. 

More. 

Nefarian blinked back his emotions, refusing to let them well up in his eyes and refilled his glass. He put down the decanter, eased the weight of the glass against his wrist and lifted it…

"Beg your pardon Sir…". 

Nefarian slammed his glass back down onto the table, his brow furrowed with an intense fury, "What makes you think I wanted to be disturbed?", he spat. He hadn't even heard the little louse come in, all this domesticity was making him soft and he despised not being fully aware of his surroundings.

Two trembling hands reached out towards him, clutching a letter tightly, "T-this arrived for you S-Sir…". 

Nefarian immediately snatched it with his free hand, turned it over in his grasp and studied the back of the letter- his blood ran cold. 

There, holding the point of the envelope closed was a navy blue wax seal with The Baron's family crest elaborately protruding. He let go of the glass, and waved at the pathetic trembling man before him, "Get out", he snapped. 

"M-My Lord?". 

"OUT!"he roared, all sense of patience lost as he felt himself beginning to lose what strength he had left to fight back the emotions he so desperately wanted to keep submerged in ardent spirits. 

He watched as the cretin scarpered away and Nefarian reached down for the knife he kept around his ankle. Pulling it from its sheath, the blade shone in the dim light and he sliced it along the top of the envelope. 

He didn't want this. He hadn't asked for this. 

Yet, he was overcome with the urge to read what had been written. To accept the merciless onslaught of insults that were inevitably headed his way. He knew he deserved it, for as much as Baron had left him to the mercy of the opposing side of the war- Nefarian himself had left Baron to the mercy of his unwavering conviction which he was then persecuted for. A conviction he had once sworn to follow himself... 

There were no winners in this dance that had entangled their hearts, and forever a glutton for punishment Nefarian unfolded the letter- what he read made the entire room still as though the rushing of time was holding steady for the first time in decades. 

'Nefarian, 

If this letter somehow makes it to you unscathed- then I pray from the darkest recesses of my soul that you had the strength to open it. 

I write to you, not in scorn or contempt, but reflective of the way we last parted. 

There is a lot that I had left unsaid to you, and the words that were spoken in haste left a lot to be desired. 

You broke me Nefarian. Watching you walk away from me, from The Church after all that we had been through… but it was not purely because of my devotion to the Faceless Ones that caused it to affect me so. 

I have come to realize, my heartbreak was out of my devotion to you too. 

As undeserved as it is- part of me is completely undone by you. This is something I cannot seem to change no matter how much time goes by. 

I fear that your reckless self destruction may get to you long before I am able… but when I am free from here, I will come and find you. 

I yearn greatly to tell you in person the words that we had left unsaid for so many years. 

For now, Happy Birthday my dearest comrade. May the blessings of The Faceless Gods find you this year. 

Yours,

Baron'

A loose tear dripped down onto the paper as Nefarian finally allowed himself to blink. He processed the words neatly written onto the page and clutched the letter close to his chest in a daze, "You fool", he muttered to himself. 

Despite the ache he felt, a longing smile curled the corner of his mouth. One day, he would be found, he just had to stay alive until then.

[meltdownchromium]

For the Ship Bingo: Mevpine, Baronpine and MevSera .3.

Yesss here we go

Man you know I'm gone for those two....

This ship I think I actually got into bc of you tbh, though I def don't ship it as much. I usually prefer Baron to be more of a drunk night out side fling of Nef and hc Vengeous mostly as an a bit outwardly homophobic & repressed bi guy

Never really got into this ship and like to think of the marriage to be more of a convenience thing but I do gotta admit they got some chemistry - I'm just not really into Serafina tho

[ominousmorbid]

Intrusive thought ls that stop me publishing fanfictions.

What if it's been done before?

What if they don't picture (character with vague or no description, usually Nathanial Quiver or Solomon Wreah) like I do? They'll hate me

My writing is shit

The smut is inaccurate and badly written

Everyone's going to hate me

But you're meant to use crude language in smut, if I don't they all going to hate me

My writing is shit

The plot is bad

It's too much like someone else's

They'll hate it

This is why you don't see me on Ao3

[sleep-dxprived-and-dead-inside]

Imagine an AU where both Nef and Baron are alive and neither of them is in prison but Skul just doesn't get that they're a couple.

I have like four scenarios for this that I find really funny so here we go

Scenario 1

Skulduggery begging the council to let him investigate Nef and Baron bc Baron keeps visiting Nef and he just knows they're planning something and no one of the council wants to explain to him that no, they're just in a relationship, so they keep having to convince him that it's nothing and he sould leave the two alone

Scenario 2

Skul rambling to Ghastly about Baron's and Nef's weird behaviour and how the council won't let him do anything and Ghastly just sitting there, knowing exactly what's going on and wondering how this guy even became a detective

Scenario 3

Skul going to China's appartment in the middle of the night bc he saw Baron walk into Nef's castle last evening and saw him leave it again the next day around noon and he wants to know what the hell they did during that time but China just wants to fricking sleep so she tells him to go back home

And Scenario 4

Skul is done with nobody giving him an answer so he breaks into Nef's castle one morning to find Nef still lying in bed, reading a book or smth and Baron coming straight out of the shower and suddenly realisation hits him and he just leaves without a word

[ladysilverart]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Sooooooooooo something has sparked my hate for a lot of the canon shit that went down, so ive come back to write shit.

Chapter 1 and 2 are reuploads but chapter 3 is new

[faceless-mystic]

For a moment everything stood still as Serpine watched the ocean from his balcony, a glass of whisky in his hand. His eyes watched as the waves sapped and kissed the sand.

“Its not fair.” He whined, running a gloved hand through his hair as his stomach knotted and disgust rose up inside of him. 

This holiday was meant to be a retreat away from all the feelings that plagued him back in the castle, but once again fate had not been on his side. He’d picked one of the worse times to come. Couples covered the beaches, filled the restaurants and wondered the streets.

His stomach churned again, putting him off of his drink but he downed it anyway. ‘Fine whisky shouldn’t be wasted after all.’ Baron’s voice rang in his ears.

“Whats the point?” He sighed, twirling the glass in his hands a few times before letting it slip and fall, shattering quietly at the bottom of the seven-story drop.

The young general stared at it for a moment before letting another sigh slip from his thin lips and then without another word or sound he pulled himself up onto the metal railing of the balcony. He stared out at the ocean, sucked in a deep breath and stuck out his arms. Cliche he knew but he’d always had a flair for the dramatics and now of all times was no different.

“One,” He stuck out on of his legs, ready to step off, “Two,” He sucked in another deep breath, “Thr-” He began to slowly lean forward but froze, his eyes widened as they landed on a figure on the beach.

The figure stool tall and broad but they’re features were blocked out by the shadow cast across they’re face.

“B-Baron?”