#post already long and the thoughts kinda whisped by while i was writing so i forgot a bunch of stuff as well

[saviourkingslut]

i am curious about how dimivain is in your head 👀 i know it tends to me kinda meme-y in the fandom i am curious how you see it!

i don't have a super strict set of hcs for them or anything, but what i do think about them is just very far removed from the way fandom usually talks abt them. i mean, i get it, there's some grounds to portray them both as classic dudebros/loser guys you'd meet in a frathouse and i don't begrudge people having their fun with that but i think it's a very shallow portrayal of both them and what their relationship could potentially be.

i mean, sylvain acting like a good-for-nothing whore is largely a front, because he's actually whip-smart, capable, calculating and caring. there's a lot of things wrong with thropes, but i do like that they decided to ditch most of the skirt-chasing to devote time to some of his character traits that get snowed under in throuses. besides that, i think it's really important to realise that sylvain just. hates himself. to the point that he has quotes in throuses war phase that sound downright suicidal. i think his carefree attitude is a part of him, absolutely - he is a jokester and he is the kind of guy to be whiney and make jokes at the expense of himself. but he also exaggerates it for the sake of hiding the morbid parts of himself from the outside world/protect himself.

as for dimitri i think the meme-ish version of him sells him so short as well. yes, he wants to eat weeds, but in my opinion that was meant to show that he tries to find ways to fix the eternal food shortage problems in faerghus as much as it was supposed to be a fun little bit. yes, he's one of the students who like training and weapons maintenance most of all, but he's not just a simple jock - he tries to investigate arundel in am because he knows something is up. he's dutiful and cares for justice and wants to do right by his people to the point of being self-destructive. he's intelligent and introspective and wants to see the best in people, though thinks that he himself is unworthy of love and admiration because he feels that the acts he committed in the past are sins that can never be washed away, though he'll spend his life atoning through ruling his people justly rather than hide away.

anyway, the thing is that i think the meme-y version of dimivain tends to skip over the complexities of their characters and the ways that they could connect to each other and try to support each other. in their own ways, they both hate themselves, though for different reasons. i think they'd do anything for others and nothing for themselves, and that they could help each other in that regard: mutually learning how to care for themselves by taking care for the other and being taken care of in return.

i think sylvain would never allow for dimitri to retreat back into himself, would go his entire life trying to make him see that he's worthy and important, not at all expendable, that dimitri shouldn't think of himself as irredeemable, that he'd take on any tasks that would lighten dimitri's burdens. i've always figured sylvain would be excellent at administrative tasks and that, in wartime, he'd excel in the role of tactician (strategy is something he actually likes). and that he'd take dimitri to do something for himself for once. he'd be gentle but firm about it, apply humour when it fits but be very, very serious when it's needed. sylvain's very wordy, and he'd show his care with them because dimitri needs to hear certain things, again and again until it sticks, but he'd also show his care and love through acts, because he's used his words for lies so many times in the past.

and i think that dimitri's sheer earnestness would be a very good counter to sylvain's lifetime of facades, that it would be difficult for him to keep his mask on when dimitri is always so honest and open. when dimitri speaks he means what he says - and they're always good things when it comes to his friends (and beloved). and with time i think sylvain could start to believe him. dimitri would see through his self-depricating humour and his facades because he's known sylvain all his life. he'd try to draw out the better parts of sylvain, his cunning and capabilities, because he knows that they're hidden there under all his posturing. and that actually making use of his skills will have sylvain feeling better about his worth in this world and to the people around him. i think being with dimitri would make sylvain want to make use of his skills because it means he can help dimitri with them, and it would make him feel worthy of dimitri's love, since dimitri himself is always giving all of himself. it wouldn't be an easy process, because trauma is a bitch and habits are ingrained, but with time? yeah, i think they'd be very good for each other.

tl;dr i think dimivain is a pairing made up of two complex and intelligent characters with their own respective difficulties who could help each other get better and i think the meme-y version of the ship sells them and their relationship kinda short.

[curlythenord]

How It Began

Hey, so this is new, and weird. But I have no one to talk to about this to without annoying them, and this is basically my new and only hobby. And I like it a lot. And most of us are stuck inside anyways so why not?

Skyrim is quite a few years old, so maybe some of you have wisdom to give. Or not, and you could just hear about my faliures/achievements and laugh. Either way, this feels therapeutic in nature, and puts two things I love together. Writing and... well, Skyrim.

So, three or four weeks into quarantine, and I was already pretty out of it. I didn’t have any solid hobbies to pick from and I was waiting on amazon book deliveries. Then, Jenna Marbles posted her video “A Tour of My House In Elder Scrolls Online” and I watched it and I really liked it. She mentioned how much she liked it many times before and something about the fantasy and quests just struck a cord in my bored little heart.

It’s like the attraction of Animal Crossing that a lot of us are having, except it’s with dragons and magic and swords. Both are still very valid.

That afternoon I downloaded Blades on my phone and played for literal hours. Something about swinging a sword and killing trolls and monsters really got to me. I wasn’t a fan of building the town and upgrading the blacksmithy but otherwise I enjoyed it. Then on Easter I kinda browsed through amazon, wondering if I could buy the game right now because of quarantine and all that. We have a ps4 at home, it’s my little brothers. I found a copy of the 2016 beautified version on Amazon, and then he went and found it on the playstation store for way less.

Soon enough I caved to my desires and I bought it. And I was immediately obssessed. I spent like an hour JUST creating my character. I wanted her face paint to be just right and her eye color was so hard to pick because I kept getting getting stuck between this hella striking blue and this really cool dark golden/hazel color. (I decided on golden) I chose Nord after debating about it for awhile, and i’m still not regretting the decision. She has really dark black hair and dope ass war paint on her eyes. I know Breton was probsbly the better choice but the Nord character hasn’t been an issue at all. I do always forget to use her war cry thougj. I think it’s because I can only use it once a day (in-game) so it makes me scared to use it. Even though days are just around 20-30 minutes long without fast travel.

Her name is Toril, which means “thunder”, and I know shes my avatar and everything but like... she’s so cool.

I chose the Warrior stone, because I genuinely just wanted to fuck shit up with a Sword. I always thought I was naturally super bad at console gaming becuase I tried playing COD before and I was terrible. Like really bad. Like propably shot myself more in the foot than I shot anyone else bad. But with Skyrim? I keep getting better each time I play. And my attack strategies are getting so much better.

My usual way to fight is a shield and a one-handed weapon. Two-handed is just too bulky and I like swords and the protection of shields. Also it just drains stamina so fast and I don’t like that. At this point I just carry Two handed weapons incase an opponent is Really hard to kill without it. I also do magic-wielding on left hand (usually restoration spells) and a one handed weapon on right. It’s prefect for combat with slow but really damaging enemies, like dragons or trolls that you can back away from.

Recently, I began dual wielding and it’s honestly so fun. I just hate how much damage I take when I do it against a group of bandits though, so I keep moving away to heal or take potions, but it’s such a fun strategy to use with dragons when they land or just against one opponent.

Anyway, the game is amazing, the characters are fun and weird and yea they’re fake but the storylines are so interesting. I decided to go with the imperial gaurd in the beginning, so I went to Riverwood, and then eventually took main residence at Whiterun. I was a little slow on joining the companions, so I used to just stay at the inn before I lived with them, but a couple days ago I saved up enough to buy the Breezehome. Both a good and bad idea because I still go back to Whiterun a lot, but my quests are now taking me farther and farther away and now I can’t really pop back in whenever I need to store an unneccesary weapon or some dragon bones.

I also hardly let myself fast travel because I really like the game for the exploring aspect. Even though the foxes have given me jumpscares multiple times with their guttural panting.

So yea. After maybe two weeks of playing I’m at level 20, and I’m guessing I’ve spent over 30 hours on the game. I play a little bit each day, but my sessions are usually 2-4 hours long and happen in the afternoon, and if I get on after my brother at 12 am i’ll usually play until 2 before I get too tired. I’ve only got like 13% done though, or at least only 13% of the achievements. My highest acheivement right now is doing alchemy though so I’m not doing great.

I’ve been focusing on the quest with Delphine and Esbern recently, and I’m at the point where I just spoke to the dragon master/teacher of the Greybeards, then spoke to Arngeir about going to Windhelm/Winterhold. I figured I might as well finally visit the college there because I wanted to improve some magicka skills without using my perks. It’s weird though, because as soon as I got back to Whiterun and then headed out to go to Windhelm, I got absolutely raided by dragon attacks.

First, one appeared outside of Whiterun, and me being the pussy I am (after getting my head bit off Multiple times) just shot arrows at it from a distance as the soldiers dealt with it, and then ran over when it was dead to absorb the soul. Then when I was past the farms and the guards tower next to Whiterun, another dragon appeared. I used the Whirlwind sprint to stay next to it’s wing to keep it from biting my damn head off, then used some restoration spells when it was in the air, and dual wielded (when I could attack it) with the Dawnbreaker and this enchanted sword I found at the Sky Haven Temple that deals extra damage when attacking dragons. Absorbed that soul and headed on up to the snowy mountainous area that was on the way to Windhelm.

After dealing with a couple asshole white bears and some whisps, I hear a dragon and absolutely lose it. Why was I suddenly getting bombarded?? I decided to sneak on this one, and got my bow and arrow out. Eventually I got close enough to see not one, but TWO goddamn dragons, before realizing it was Alduin raising one to life (and realized he was salty because I was trying to destroy him by getting the Elder Scroll). Eventually I managed to kill it, still using Whirlwind sprint, healing spells, and dual-wielding. Plus some potions too.

I had to try a couple times for each of these by the way. Even with the second dragon I kept forgetting to save once I was a mildly-annoying-distance-to-repeatedly-walk away from Whiterun, which sucked but it’s whatever. I learned my lesson though and started remembering to save.

I got to Windhelm, which was weird territory because it’s run by Stormcloaks, and had to physically restrain myself from pummeling this drunk guy while he talked down to a Dark Elf and accused her of being a spy because she wasn’t a Nord. Also sometimes guards that aren’t from Whiterun will call me a thief (I unnsuccesfully tried to help out the guy who told me about Esbern’s hideout back in Riften) and it’s a lil annoying because I try really hard to make my character a decently good person. Sucks though because one of the achievements is joining the Thieves Guild and though I don’t necessarily want to do that, I’m gonna eventually unless I create a new character, which I don’t wanna do yet because I like mine too much.

Anyways this is already really long. I’m making another post to talk about my current opinion on choosing between Imperials and the Stormcloaks. If you have any tips, or questions, comment them! Or send me an anon, either is fine. I could literally rave about Skyrim for hours, as you have probably seen. Thanks for reading!

[ceruleanmusings]

eat, snark, love (not necessarily in that order)

pairing: draco malfoy/theodore nott (because what else do I write?) word count: 1762 tags: post-hogwarts, roommates, established relationship, fluff, domestic fluff, POV draco malfoy, Tagging: @ladylilymalfoy904034 @lareiism​

ao3

——

Draco leaned his weary, rain-soaked, mud-covered, exhausted body against the doorway and watched. Well, admired would be the right word. He couldn’t look at Theo, not anymore. Not since…well, right about third year in fact. Something about the way Theo directed a cocky smile at him from across the room when he succeeded in the difficult potion they were learning on the first try grabbed him, shook him up, upended him, and set him back on his feet living in a new world. A world in which, somehow, Theo shifted towards the center.

And it gave him a lot of time to admire his old friend over the years. To take in the curve of his lips, a swath so pink he didn’t doubt that kissing them would taste as sweet as he imagined.

To sink into the depths of his murky eyes, not exactly green but not entirely brown either; a combination so unique even the shifting colors of the potions they spent months slaving over over the years touched upon that color.

To follow the curl of his deft fingers as they wrapped around his wand with certainty, barely giving his actions a second thought; almost as if it were an extra extension not just from his arm but from his mind, the spells and jinxes and charms cast with barely an utter from his lips.

To now, where he sat on the countertop—despite Draco asking him a thousand times not to, for Merlin’s sake—book held in front of his face, lithe fingers curled around the cover, long legs crossed at the ankles. (His lounge pants hiked up a few inches above his ankles. Draco made a mental note to take Theo shopping and then another mental note to find a way to bribe him into going).

But it was the jumper that really caught his eye; the slate gray, cable-knit jumper that seemed to hang off of Theo’s lanky frame in a way that, to others, would appear he was swimming in it but to Draco made him look comfortable, safe, and inviting. Like a teddy bear. Not that Draco would ever call him that. (To his face at least.)

And…shit, he had to go and do it. Draco’s teeth scraped against his lower lip as his eyes scanned the length of Theo’s forearms. His bare forearms, the sleeves pushed back up to his elbows, bunching and bundling only to emphasize the expanse from the elbow up to his bony wrists.

Fuck, that’s what he missed the most while being away.

Yes, he enjoyed playing Quidditch again. He was shocked when he was accepted into the traveling intramural league and half expected some sort of ambush to take place when he showed up on the first day. They’d only been a few years removed from the fall of V…the Dark Lord and he was ready with his wand tucked up his arm and plethora of non-verbal spells and jinxes at his disposal. Just in case. But he was brought in with a clap on his back and a broom shoved into his hands. They took off into the sky, to test their skills and…Draco was free. His stomach swooped, wind rustled in his hair, tugged at his clothes, lifted him upwards and away from his worries, his name, his past. He missed it, he loved it, he didn’t even mind when he crash laded onto the waterlogged pitch and smeared mud into his workout gear.

But he missed this more. Coming home, having a place to come home to, having someone wait for him, and…he stood up straight, eyebrows lifting. He shook his head, certainly his eyes were deceiving him but no. A quick pinch to his inner arm told him he was indeed awake. His pupils blew wide, gray shifting over to black when the fuzziness around Theo smoothed out and revealed a steaming pot, a spoon spinning in lazy circles around the rim as if an invisible hand stirred it. Another pot on the stovetop, covered by a lid dotted with condensation. He didn’t need to look to know what it was. The hearty scents wafted past his nose and fed the hungry beast in his stomach and perfectly meshed with the scent of him.

He’d been away far too long.

His leather bag fell off his shoulder and landed on the hardwood floors with a thump. Behind the book Theo’s head lifted and then tilted to the side. Dropping one hand to his lap, he closed the book with a snap and lowered it from his face with such agonizing slowness that Draco had to keep from launching himself across the kitchen to yank it out of his hand

Theo’s green eyes took a slow journey from his face, down his neck, down his chest, dropping to his shoes, and traveled back up again. Draco felt his gaze; white hot against him. Goosebumps erupted over his skin and static sparked and crackled in his ears, in the air around him, the electricity thrumming with every breath that came out of him.

Theo lifted his chin and Draco saw it, a whisp of a smile at the corner of his mouth before he let out such a world-weary sigh that only Theodore Nott could muster and perfect.

“You always find a way to ruin my surprises,” he stated.

His legs, once numb, finally started up again. With each step he kept his gaze—steady and sure—on Theo until he was within arms reach. Their knees touching. Together. Finally. Still…“I think the fact that you want to surprise me is a surprise on it’s own.” Draco’s lips curled upwards and a challenging sparkle settled in his eyes. Upclose the spicy aroma of the stew and the colliding scent of Theo’s minty bodywash crashed into him, dizzying him.

“You’ve been gone for six days,” Theo said, following a snort. He reached out and brushed a few strands of white-blond hair out of Draco’s face.

Draco touched his knee. “Miss me, Nott?”

Theo’s eyes jumped up to the ceiling and he turned away from Draco, peering into the pot as the spoon continued to stir the brown liquid. Potatoes, carrots, beef, and onions bobbed among the surface. “You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” he said towards the surface.

Draco leaned forward, squeezing Theo’s knee as he pressed, “Did you miss me?”

Theo hummed; the sound reverberated in Draco’s skull and lit him up like a firework. “You’re very pushy for someone who’s tracking mud along my flat.”

“You missed me.” His smile—beaming of smug satisfaction—took up half his face at his conclusion. A man of little words, Draco could read Theo like a well-loved, frequently sought-after book. His fingertips read every pulse and twitch of Theo’s muscles as they trailed up his thighs.

“I haven’t said such a thing,” Theo said, voice deepening.

“Right. Because it’s normal for you to wear my jumper.”

Theo’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. “This one’s mine.”

“No it’s not. My grandmum knitted me this one.” Draco tugged the hem, catching a glimpse of skin beneath; the trail of hair heading North and South simultaneously. He licked his lips. “Yours is white.”

Theo stilled and Draco took that as an opportunity to duck his head and press a kiss to his boyfriend’s throat. Theo’s adam’s apple bobbed and a hiss quickly followed when Draco reached beneath his jumper, running his hands on the expanse of Theo’s stomach. “Your hands are cold.”

Pushing a breath out his nose, it was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes. “Leave it to you to ruin a moment, Nott.”

“Don’t be a git, Malfoy. Alls I’m sayin’ is you’re getting me wet and muddy.”

“Right. Forgot you were a bit particular about your cleanliness.”

Theo gave him a pointed look. “Takes one to know one. You keep that up I won’t ask you to join me in the washroom.” As he spoke he reached around and grabbed at Draco’s arse, lifting him up onto his toes. Draco scratched at Theo’s stomach for good measure as Theo leaned forward and murmured into his ear, “Need to warm you up somehow.”

Backing away, Draco forced himself not to focus on the lack of warmth that grew in the space between them as he motioned towards the food on the stove. Let Nott squirm. Serves him right. “Mmm. I suppose the stew wasn’t to take care of that.”

Theo crossed his arms. “I still need to eat even when you’re not here.”

Lifting the spoon out of the pot, Draco sipped at the steaming stew. The burn on his tongue was worth the tension in Theo’s shoulders and the twist to his mouth. “I would have taken that at face value if you didn’t already say it was to surprise me.” In his peripheral he spotted that tiny tell-tale twitch at the corner of Theo’s eye.

There was a shortlist of things that Draco savored: a good spot of tea, Belgian chocolates, his grandmum’s desserts, his mum’s only attempt at cooking dinner (he knew Theo got the stew recipe from somewhere). But seeing Theodore Nott stumbling, thrown off his game?

That, well, that was priceless.

“You missed me,” he stated again, lifting his chin.

Theo leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the side of Draco’s head. “I always do,” he said. And before Draco could speak he added, “It’s dreadfully boring without having someone around to ignore.”

“Git.” He grabbed the collar of Theo’s—his—jumper and yanked him forward, lips colliding in a clumsy, hungry kiss that quickly melted into another and another and another where one barely ended when the next begun, heavy breaths filling the air and the humid heat trapped around the collar of Draco’s shirt rivaled the steam coming from the stove.

“Are you hungry?” Theo asked, the question embedded against Draco’s throat.

Draco’s eyes fluttered shut. “Not really.”

“Good.” Theo’s smirk caressing Draco’s throat made him groan, his body humming in appreciation. “I’ll build your appetite.”

“Kinda hoping you would.”

As Theo hopped down from the counter and dragged Draco out of the kitchen towards their bedroom with laced fingers, his eyes bounced from his abandoned Quidditch bag to the pictures lining the walls of their flat. And like with the sport, Draco reminded himself, as the famillair swooping tumbled his stomach, that he was allowed to be this happy. That he was allowed to move on. That he deserved this.

He did.

He did.

He does.