#thanks mage for making me write this up i really really needed to get it out and i didn't even know

[starrysmiling]

my theory on jax's parents

i've been sitting on this one for a long while and finally got the push to write this up. i want to write about this in the future, but there's bits here that have got to wait until cube corp releases, so... i'm just going to talk about it while i'm here.

anyway. as we all know, jax seems to be raised by arthur, and neither of them ever mention his parents.

so where. the fuck. are they.

spoiler alert: just between you and me, i think they're dead. not that it's confirmed or anything...

so... let's begin with a preword. the jax in my canon is 22, since unlike ace and the player, he doesn't have a canon-implied age. (this did not stop me from making fern 21.)

this makes him just slightly older than the meteorite strike on crater town, which happened 20 years ago. it's important to note this, because he needs to be alive for his parents to die in the aftermath of the meteorite strike.

whoops. did i just say that?

let's just change tracks for a bit.

arthur is training jax to be the next champion. that's quite obvious from the story, he says it outright, there isn't any question about that. but i think that originally, arthur wanted his own child to succeed him. it's also something to think about if you consider that he stepped down from the champion's seat before the events of the game, which prompts me to think that he wanted a successor before he stepped down, but he couldn't train jax in time bc jax was still too young.

so let's go with that: arthur intended for his child to succeed him as the next champion after he steps down. thus: arthur's child, and one of jax's parents, would likely be a ferociously strong trainer.

i'd like to think that they met someone while they were training or journeying, fell in love, eventually decided to marry them, and have a child. why didn't they decide to become champion? this is just a hc, but considering elias is Still there and the league hasn't found a replacement and arabella is working there because her dad doesn't make money... yeah, i think the league is kinda understaffed. hell, i make fern struggle with his champion duties, but even if arthur is a better fit for the role, being the champion's child means they would be able to see how harsh the role is on arthur. and maybe they don't really want to be the champion just yet, when arthur still can do his job well.

and they're still young, after all. they want to have a bit of fun in their life, journey around as a trainer, raise their kid with lots of care, then maybe go get that champion role once arthur's done his term.

so now, little jax is two years old. the meteorite has just been shattered over valley city, and the residents have been transported back to help clean up the town. volunteers and volunteer pokemon from nearby cities, like dresco town, are called to help with the restoration efforts.

and jax's parents are part of those volunteers, naturally. they're both pokemon trainers, after all.

and here's where it starts going to shit.

remember that two pokemon came down to earth with the meteor? jirachi was sealed away after the residents realised its power, but another pokemon landed a little to the northeast.

and deoxys is powerful. pksp red, one of the strongest trainers, if not the strongest in the series, is almost powerless against deoxys when he first battles it. it takes him a bit of a bond with a rogue mewtwo and several tough battles, some difficult enough to shatter his mentality, to defeat it, and even then, it's an uphill struggle for him.

that's the pokemon that jax's parents find: a ridiculously strong pokemon from outer space that nobody's seen or recorded before. remember, it immediately fights you if you talk to it, so i suppose... they fight. and if they can see the utter destruction that could come out of deoxys's power, there's no way they're letting that pokemon get to the town, where unarmed people are working on clearing the rubble. so they fight, and they fight, but deoxys is strong, and clearly not even two people are a good enough fight against it, and soon their pokemon are worn out and deoxys's attacks are injuring the pair themselves.

they put together a plan. one holds off the strange pokemon from outer space — for the sake of my canon, this is the stronger one, arthur's daughter — and the other runs back to the town to alert the guardian of borrius, who is overseeing the restoration efforts. if anyone can beat this pokemon, it's the legendary aros.

and so jax's father flies back to crater town. he'd been persuaded to go, being more heavily injured by the fight, and desperately searches for aros, explains the situation, and immediately brings him to the crater where they found deoxys.

but it's too late by then.

they find jax's mother, barely conscious and mortally wounded, being fiercely protected by her pokemon who are only barely standing. aros thanks her, and with their combined efforts, barely manage to defeat deoxys and seal it in sleep. jax's father returns to his wife's side, only for her to sigh her last breaths before they can treat her wounds.

aros notices that jax's father's wounds can still be treated, but though aros hurries him back to town... perhaps the loss of his wife weighs too deeply on him, and he doesn't make it.

and jax, still only two years old, is left in the care of his grandfather.

his parents are called heroes — they fought so that crater town would not suffer a second disaster in quick succession, and that's why jax in my canon is so set on being a hero. his admiration for aros is also partly from seeing how he handled the incident, making sure that he didn't take the credit for holding off deoxys and ensuring that people wouldn't forget that jax's parents died in order to keep the town safe.

and, also, aros is basically the local superhero. he's cool as hell. no wonder he's kinda jax's idol.

anyway. i really want to write more about this concept, and there's a scene where i want jax to meet aros and for aros to tell him, properly, about his parents. that'll be the first time that i've ever written jax crying in canonverse, because hearing aros, his idol, apologise to him for not being able to save his parents and recount that they genuinely were heroes in his eyes is a lot to process. (it's also really funny considering that jax hasn't cried in front of fern, but he has cried in front of fern's dad.)

as a way of finishing this arc of jax's life, i really also want to suggest that after fern captures jirachi, jax tags along with him to fight deoxys.

and this fight — this is jax's fight. fern can tell that this jax is different from seeing him stare down deoxys across the crater. there's something twisted about the fact that jax is now facing it with his own partner, twenty years later.

jax, heightened by raw emotion, seems to fall back into his more reckless, daring tactics. he plays fern's hyper-offensive role, actually, and fern plays jax's support, making sure that jax doesn't run himself ragged, following up after his strikes, covering when they're in trouble. it's not like they made a name for themselves as an unstoppable duo for nothing.

the conclusion of this arc is jax's capture of deoxys, after a grueling battle that whittles at his strength and mental state. in a way, earning deoxys's respect, being able to capture it in a ball, and being able to say that he finally, finally defeated the pokemon that killed his parents, is a sort of closure that he probably didn't know he needed.

did you see that, mom, dad?

i beat it. you can rest easy now.

[justauthoring]

yours, always.

requested -> ooh since ur writing fairy tail fics now, how abt a gray x ice dragon slayer reader where she just likes the taste of gray’s ice and always convinces him to make her some by -> anonymous

a/n -> it's been a hot minute since i wrote for fairy tail and gray is just adorable so here yall go

pairing -> gray fullbuster x f!reader

want to support me? send me a coffee!

“blegh.”

from across the bar, drying a cup in her hands, mirajane raises a curious brow. “what’s the matter, y/n?”

meeting her eyes, you pout, draped across the top of her bar rather dramatically. your hands stretch out before you, and you not so subtly shove the cup of ice away from you. “i’m hungry.”

“oh,” she frowns, concerned, eyes momentarily eyeing the cup of ice you'd shoved away. “i can make you something if you’d like? you need only ask, y/n. you know that.”

you turn to her, letting your chin rest on the table instead of your cheek and frown, not having meant to insult her. “I know, mira. thank you,” you say honestly, sending her a small smile. “it’s not food really that i’m hungry for, it’s—“

whatever you’d been about to say promptly gets cut off by the sound of the doors open. you straighten, surprising mirajane as you practically leap to your feet. instantly, your head is snapping towards the door, desperately hopeful, before your eyes practically shine at the sight of a familiar dark-haired (shirtless) mage.

“gray!” you call, bounding towards him without a second thought.

at the sound of his name, gray turns to face you, settling once he realizes just who called for him. his face brightens and a gentle smile curls on his lips as his arms widen to hug you, body obviously easing at you, his girlfriend, given how much he’d missed you while taking solo job.

it wasn't even like he'd been gone for that long — the mission had taken no more than two days. it was just rare that the two of you didn't go together, or at least with the rest of team natsu, but you hadn't been feeling well so you'd opted out.

you'd severely regretted that decision the second gray left.

except, you don’t jump into his arms like gray expects, arms shifting to prepare himself. instead, you stop right before him, hands reaching to clasp his wrist and tug it towards your chest.

“ice.”

and he blinks, stunned and confused, the whole thing happening in a blink of the eye to gray. he's dreadfully confused and a little disappointed because he'd been looking forward to that hug and then, your words register and he smirks teasingly.

“and here i thought you actually missed me.”

eyes shifting from his hand to his eyes, you pause. “oh, yes, gray of course i missed you. im glad you’re safe,” you rush out in a way that doesn’t completely seem heartfelt in the way gray had really wanted. but, he guessed, it was that thought that counted?

“now, ice. im starving.”

huffing, gray moves to oblige, not able to deny your request but still pouting about it.

“seriously,” he whines, feeling rerribly unlike himself (only you would have the ability to make him whine), holding his hand and making some ice for you to take. “it’s like you just use me to eat my ice. did you know that i missed you and you were on my thoughts the entire—“

gray halts when he feels your lips press against his cheek.

lips parting, his eyes follow you as you lean back, the ice he’d made for you held safely in your hands as you beam up at him.

“thank you,” you whisper, warm and genuine.

the sight of you smiling at him like that and the sound of your voice has gray short circuiting, cheeks turning a bright red as you move to happily munch of the ice.

“mm!” you exclaims, giddy and satisfied. “delicious. as always. no other ice can compare.”

and it’s silly and stupid. it’s just ice, but it melts gray’s heart and your words mean so much to him that all he can manage is to smile back at you, eyes flooded with love.

"you're welcome," he muses, watching you with adoring eyes. with the ice happily in your hands as you munch away, gray wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you against his side as he leads you towards a table.

truthfully, he'll give you all the ice in the world if it makes you that happy every time.

and he'd be foolish to deny how happy it makes him that only his ice can satisfy your craving.

[oinonsana]

realities, maximalism,and the need for big book™️

some gubat banwa design thoughts vomit: since the beginning of its development i've kind of been enraptured with trying to really go for "fiction-first" storytelling because PbtA games really are peak roleplaying for me, but as i wrote and realized that a lot of "fiction first" doesn't work without a proper sort of fictional foundation that everyone agrees on. this is good: this is why there are grounding principles, genre pillars, and other such things in many PbtA games--to guide that.

broken worlds is one of my favs bc of sheer vibes

Gubat Banwa didn't have much in that sense: sure, I use wuxia and xianxia as kind of guideposts, but they're not foundational, they're not pillars of the kind of fiction Gubat Banwa wants to raise up. there wasn't a lot in the sense of genre emulation or in the sense of grounding principles because so much of Gubat Banwa is built on stuff most TTRPG players haven't heard about. hell, it's stuff squirreled away in still being researched academic and anthropological circles, and thanks to the violence of colonialism, even fellow filipinos and seasians don't know about them

this is what brought me back to my ancient hyperfixations, the worlds of Exalted, Glorantha, Artesia, Fading Suns... all of them have these huge tomes of books that existed to put down this vast sprawling fantasy world, right? on top of that are the D&D campaign settings, the Dark Suns and the Eberrons. they were preoccupied in putting down setting, giving ways for people to interact with the world, and making the world alive as much as possible.

one of my main problems with gubat banwa was trying to convey this world that i've seen, glimpsed, dreamed of. this martial fantasy world of rajas and lakans, sailendras and tuns, satariyas and senapatis and panglimas and laksamanas and pandai... its a world that didn't really exist yet, and most references are steeped in either nationalism or lack of resources (slowly changing, now)

i didn't want to fall back into the whole gazeteer tourist kind of shit when it came to writing GB, but it necessitated that the primary guidelines of Gubat Banwa were set down. my approach to it was trying to instill every aspect of the text, from the systems to the fluff text to the way i wrote to the way things were phrased, with the essence of this world i'm trying to put forward. while i wrote GB mainly for me and fellow SEAsian people, economically my main market were those in the first world countries that could afford to buy the book. grokking the book was always going to be severely difficult for someone that didn't have similar cultures, or are uninterested in the complexities of human culture. thus why GB had to be a big book.

in contemporary indie ttrpg spaces (where I mostly float in, though i must admit i pay more attention to SEAsia spaces than the usual US spaces) the common opinion is that big books like Exalted 3e are old hat, or are somewhat inferior to games that can cram their text into short books. i used to be part of that camp--in capitalism, i never have enough time, after all. however, the books that do go big, that have no choice to go big, like Lancer RPG, Runequest, Mage, Exalted are usually the ones that have something really big it needs to tell you, and they might be able to perform the same amount of text-efficient bursting at the seams flavor writing but its still not enough.

thats what happened to GB, which I wanted to be, essentially, a PbtA+4e kind of experience, mechanically speaking. i very soon abandoned those titles when i delved deeper into research, incorporated actual 15th century divination tools in the mechanics, injected everything with Martial Arts flavor as we found our niche

all of this preamble to say that no matter how light i wanted to go with the game, i couldnt go too light or else people won't get it, or i might end up writing 1000 page long tome books explaining every detail of the setting so people get it right. this is why i went heavy on the vibes: its a ttrpg after all. its never gonna be finished.

i couldnt go too light because Gubat Banwa inherently exists on a different reality. think: to many 3 meals a day is the norm and the reality. you have to eat 3 meals a day to function properly. but this might just be a cultural norm of the majority culture, eventually co opted by capitalism to make it so that it can keep selling you things that are "breakfast food" or "dinner food" and whatnot. so its reality to some, while its not reality to others. of course, a lot of this reality-talk pertains mostly to social--there is often a singular shared physical reality we can usually experience*

Gubat Banwa has a different fabric of reality. it inherently has a different flow of things. water doesn't go down because of gravity, but because of the gods that make it move, for example. bad things happen to you because you weren't pious or you didn't do your rituals enough and now your whole community has to suffer. atoms aren't a thing in gb, thermodynamics isn't a real thing. the Laws of Gubat Banwa aren't these physical empirical things but these karmic consequent things

much of the fiction-first movement has a sort of "follow your common sense" mood to it. common sense (something also debatable among philosophers but i dont want to get into that) is mostly however tied to our physical and social realities. but GB is a fantasy world that inherently doesn't center those realities, it centers realities found in myth epics and folk tales and the margins of colonized "civilization", where lightnings can be summoned by oils and you will always get lost in the woods because you don't belong there.

so Gubat Banwa does almost triple duty: it must establish the world, it must establish the intended fiction that arises from that world, and then it must grant ways to enforce that fiction to retain immersion--these three are important to GB's game design because I believe that that game--if it is to not be a settler tourist bonanza--must force the player to contend with it and play with it within its own terms and its own rules. for SEAsians, there's not a lot of friction: we lived these terms and rules forever. don't whistle at night on a thursday, don't eat meat on Good Friday, clap your hands thrice after lighting an incense stick, don't make loud noise in the forests. we're born into that [social] reality

this is why fantasy is so important to me, it allows us to imagine a different reality. the reality (most of us) know right now (i say most of us because the reality in the provinces, the mountains, they're kinda different) is inherently informed by capitalist structures. many people that are angry at capitalist structures cannot fathom a world outside capitalist structures, there are even some leftists and communists that approach leftism and revolution through capitalism, which is inherently destructive (its what leads to reactionaries and liberalism after all). fantasy requires that you imagine something outside of right now. in essence read Ursula K Le Guin

i tweeted out recently that you could pretty easily play 15-16th century Luzon or Visayas with an OSR mechanic setting and William Henry Scott's BARANGAY: SIXTEENTH CENTURY PHILIPPINE CULTURE AND SOCIETY, and I think that's purely because barebones OSR mechanics stuff fits well with the raiding and adventuring that many did in 15-16th century Luzon/Visayas, but a lot of the mechanics wont be comign from OSR, but from Barangay, where you learn about the complicated marriage customs, the debt mechanics, the social classes and stratum...

so thats why GB needs to be a (relatively) big book, and why I can contend that some books need to be big as well--even if their mechanics are relatively easy and dont need more than that, the book, the game, might be trying to relay something even more, might be trying to convey something even more than that. artesia, for example, has its advancements inherently tied to its Tarot Cards, enforcing that the Arcana guides your destiny. runquest has its runes magic, mythras (which is kinda generic) has pretty specific kinds of magic systems that immediately inform the setting. this is why everything is informed by something (this is a common Buddhist principle, dependent arising). even the most generic D&D OSR game will have the trappings of the culture and norms of the one that wrote and worked on it. its written from their reality which might not necessarily be the one others experience. that's what lived experience is, after all

*live in the provinces for a while and you'll doubt this too!

[yuriisclumsy]

HELLO !! I SEE THAT YOU WRITE FOR CALE HENITUSE :d you've got good taste that man makes me feral i love that unbelievable idiot :D

Whadoyyathink about Cale being with someone who's weaker than him but she's kinda useful (one of pookie's powers is to boost someone's abilities, it generally doesn't matter if the one she's aiding doesn't have magical powers, they just have to be good at something like for example, painting and swordsmanship—she can enhance their ability and knowledge temporarily).

She's a mage that's dying the more she exploits her mana. She tried to not use too much, but in a reality where she and everyone suddenly got thrusted into war? She couldn't help but use, use, use.

None of em knew her degrading lifespan until one day she just told em casually when the gang asks wtf is wrong w u why do you look like u r boutta die and why do you keep passing out sometimes

If this is too much feel free to ignore, though thank you for reading :D

Will you stay by my side forever?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,443

[Authors Note]: This thing took me so long to make because I couldn't figure out what setting to write it on. Besides getting a bit tired of only writing for Cale back when I was consistent with the requests. But, hi! I'm back! At least just for this one. This request is back from May 💀. I still have two more, one from June, the other from July. So I might come back and do those. Do people want a part 4 for Love's Dance?

»»►Ouuu, what a fun scenario.

»»►Apologies in advance if it’s a bit weird, haven’t read or written for Cale in a while, so I might have lost my touch.

»»►Warning (I never really do these, but I thought it would be appropriate): could be inaccurate to the Henituse War Arc because I have yet to read it.

»»►Also, the POV is different on this one.

Dragons.

Powerful beings, capable of destroying us all if they wanted to.

One thing they weren’t meant for was to let humans ride them and control them like animals. They had far greater intelligence than any being in existence. 

So why should they submit to us?

The skies are filled with erratic bat-winged lizards; their flames and roars were scattered all over the field.

This was a war.

Dragons…What pesky creatures. I already have one to deal with, I don’t need more.

“Choi Han!”

“Yes, Master Cale?” said man came within seconds and kneeled in front of him.

“I need you to scout out the area in the east for me,” I commanded.

“On it,” and with that, he left as fast as he came.

I already know how all of this will pan out, but a little safety never hurt no one…

“Master Cale!”

“Hmm?” I turned to see one of the city guards running in a hurry towards me. “What is it? Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I-it’s lady [Name]! S-hes…” the guard gasped for air from the run.

“Easy, calm down… Now tell me, what’s wrong with [Name]?” I patted him in the back.

Recuperating the lost oxygen, the guard went serious and looked at me. “Lady [Name] has lost a great deal of blood and fainted..! S-she just started to cough and— M-master Cale–? Where are you going?!” The Guard shouted at me, but all noise was shut down by my mind.

That instinct to check on those you care about kicked in the moment I heard the word blood being uttered.

I ran.

Ran, and ran, until I was able to see the camp where she had been stationed at by me. A camp far from the battlefield, but close enough for me to constantly check-up on her.

How could a thing like this happen to me? I had just checked on you a few hours ago, so why? Why are you suddenly bleeding?

The men there stood aside as I ran past them. They understood not to be on my way with the expression I wore on my face.

“Where is she?!” I yelled to the men crowding a tent. I already knew my answer when they looked at me  and then at the inside with sad expressions.

I burst in and scanned the area to look for the woman I ran miles to see. I paused. There, on a bed on the far corner of the shelter, was her. [Name]. Medics surrounded her with yet more sad faces.

I walked slowly towards them, not wanting to know if what I had in my mind were to be true. “Is she alright?” I asked when I was a mere few feet away from the bed.

The head doctor looked at me with furrowed brows and sighed. He then gave me a smile when he saw my eyes, filled with worry.

“She is fine,” he said. I let the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “But she has lost a great deal of blood. I need her to stay in bed for a few days, and another more of pure rest until I see her health back up again.”

“I see… Thank you.”

“No need, it’s my job,” the doctor looked at the other two, who I believe to be his apprentices, and gestured to them to exit with him. “I’ll leave you alone with her,” he patted my shoulder as he left.

I stood there for a bit, before I went and sat on the bed right next to hers. I stared at her face; the face that made my heart jump from excitement wherever I saw a smile; the face that l would look at and made me feel better instantly; the face that made me fall deeply in love with her.

“...Cale?” a voice rang in my ears which made me snap out of my trance. My eyes meet with hers.

“[Name]...you’re awake,” I let out simply. She smiled at me, relieving me from the aching I had in my heart moments prior. “Are you feeling better?”

She nodded. Her eyes were filled with a love I can’t put in words, stared at mine. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said sadly.

My eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What are you sorry for? None of this is your fault.”

“...” she stayed silent. She turned her head to the other side, blocking my view of her expression. I knew this move of her’s. She did this whenever she was hiding something. And then I realized something. I hadn’t asked what the cause of the blood was.

“[Name]...” I called to her, “..this wasn’t your fault…was it?”

“...I’m sorry,” she apologized and let out a low sob. “I didn’t want for any of you to find out this way….”

I was in disbelief. What possibly could she have done to cause such blood loss other than a stab wound…had she...?

“[Name], tell me… You didn’t cut yourself, have you?”

She quickly looked at me, “no, of course not, I would never do something as bad as hurting myself!” She reassured me.

That’s good…but that doesn’t answer how she had lost a lot of blood.

“Then…why were you bleeding?”

“...That’s..a long story.”

“I have all day,” I crossed my legs and rested my head on the palm of my hand.

“...”

“...”

She sighted thinking I would give up on the subject, but I’m far too stubborn to give up. “I lost a lot of blood because…”

“Because…?”

“Because of my ability…” she finally said.

“Your ability..? The ability to enhance abilities?” I asked in thought.

“Yes.”

“How exactly does your ability work then?”

“Well, you know that I can upgrade someone's abilities, yes?” I nod, and she continues, “but what I didn’t tell you was the toll it comes with.”

“Toll? Wait, have you been hurting yourself while using your ability?” I accuse her.

“No! Well…yeah, but exactly how you think…” that wasn't very convincing. “Whenever I use my power, it takes energy from my body. The more I use it, the weaker I get.”

“...”

“Please don’t be mad at me…” she pleaded with puppy eyes.

“...I’m not mad.”

“I feel like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” I straightened my back, “but I will have you permanently stop using that power of yours.”

“What!?” She sat up at lighting speed, and groaned out of pain.

“Don’t sit up so quickly,” I got up and held her back.

“Y-you can’t just…prohibit me from using my power! How else would I be useful to you? How would I earn money!?”

I didn’t say anything. Then an idea came to mind. My ears were burning at the thought.

Taking courage, I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat at the word I was about to say.

“...I’m firing you,” I said.

“...Huh?” She looked heartbroken. Oh, how I can’t see you like that. “no…No, no. Please, let me work for you. Please, Cale!” She grabbed my arms in an attempt to make me rethink my decision.

“No, my choice is final,” she was at the brink of crying. “Instead… I want you to stay by my side.”

“What..do you mean?” Her eyes gawk at me with tear drops threatening to spill out.

“Let me rephrase myself so you can understand,” I cleared my throat, “I would like for you to be mine.”

We stared into each others eyes. She shed a tear from before, but not out of frustration, or grief of a lost job, but out of love and affection. She chuckled.

“Is this your way of courting me?”

“Is it bad?”

“No! No, it’s…interesting,” she lowered her head to laugh at my proposal.

“So?” I placed my index finger under her shin and tilted her head to look at me. “Are you going to accept?”

“Hahaha… Yes. I accept,” she gave me the happiest smile I had seen from her.

And in that moment, I knew I was the happiest man alive.

Fin

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Master-List

[your-local-hoemie]

I've genuinely never put in a request for something before so ur the first T.T

I was wondering, what would happen if you just wandered into scaramouche's room?

Im sorry if this is oddly specific, but I was hoping for a NS!FW M4M, possibly with Balladeer instead of wanderer, and if you do this thank you so much :))

NS!FW. 18+ ONLY!!!

OF COURSE!!!! Thank you for asking!!!!

You’ll have to forgive me if it’s not great. Even though I edge more towards masc im still not 100% sure how dudes work djdhdu

Also good lord, I went kind hard (hah) with this one, my cheeks were gLOWING while writing this. I’m never seeing heaven istg 💀

Edit: I accidentally went a little off script because I got extremely flustered so I’m sorry T-T

Warnings: ns!fw, dom!scaramouche (he needs his own warning), mild degradation, mean words, bratty behaviour, smug little shittery, lots of spicy words, swearing, male!reader, not proof-read.

Characters: scaramouche as: The ✨Balladeer✨

Scaramouche and you had a weird relationship.

No one knew whether you hated each other or if you were actually close.

Including you-

Sometimes you’d be at each other throat with any sharp object you could find and then the next, you’d be defending the other for whatever morally questionable crimes you had committed.

You happened to be one of the unfortunate fatui members that had been assigned to Scaramouche.

You don’t really know how he didn’t decide to murder you for your instinctive comebacks whenever he’d insult you.

He’s never admit it but he enjoyed having someone to banter with that wouldn’t immediately shit themselves the second he glanced at them.

Which is why you were now in his office for…

Well you didn’t really know.

He was busy doing paperwork that he was making extremely obvious that he hated every second of.

You were sitting in a chair across the room from him, equally as bored.

“So what exactly do you need me for… sir”

“To sit there and shut up.”

“…why?”

Letting out a sigh, Scara rolling his eyes, waving your questions off.

“You know, I’m supposed to be doing work. Going out, getting information, torturing, stealing, all the good stuff. Not sit in a room with a pouty brat-”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly realise what you had done.

Oh shit-

With a glare more threatening than a cryo mage in the rain. Scara placed his pen neatly down on the table, carefully organising the papers in front of him with sly grin.

Double shit-

“You know, you do a lot of talking for someone who can’t even handle to be alone in a room with their boss for more than an hour”

“Yeah well you’re not really the most enjoyable to be around…boss.”

The balladeers grin became even more sly as I pushed the chair away from his desk, standing up and taking a few steps forward, positioning himself right in front of you.

“I’ve had a very stressful day and I think I could use a little worshiping. Why don’t you use that mouth for something other than pathetic remarks, hm~?”

“Excuse me-?”

Without a hint of hesitation or shame, the harbinger placed his hand on your head. Most likely relishing the feeling of actually being taller than someone for once.

“Don’t act like our… banter doesn’t get you hard. I’ve seen the way you squirm when I get a little too close~”

Scaramouche pressed your head close to his crotch, speaking with a tone laced in sly smugness.

“I know you’ve imagined what I could do to you. I bet you even stroke yourself to the thought of me. Having the hand of a deity stroke you~”

Obviously he was right. Which just annoyed you even more, causing your pride to outweigh the sheer embarrassment coursing through your veins at his lewd words.

“You know how much shit you’d be in if I told anyone about this, right?

Scaramouche frowned at your remark, swiftly taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him.

“If a word of this leaves your mouth to anyone other than me, I will make you wish that I killed you. Understand me?”

Feeling your words catch in your throat, you give him a irritated nod, unable to fully deny how hot the whole situation was becoming.

“Good. Now, be a good for your god and worship me the way I deserve.”

Smirking down at you, Scara unbuttoned his shorts, letting his already hard dick bounce out against your face, making him sigh out in satisfaction.

“I always thought you looked so much better on your knee’s~ now suck.”

Blushing violently and not even able to deny how turned on you were, you locked eyes with The Balladeer and took him inside your mouth.

“Good boy~ just like that..”

Petting your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness, Scara pushed your head back and fourth, making you gag as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me like the desperate, horny slut you are~”

Letting out a small, muffled whimper, you knew you were completely at his mercy as you couldn’t help but move your hand down, touching yourself as he commanded.

Scara thrust his hips more intensely, picking up his speed as moans and grunts escape his lips causing you to match his speed with your hand.

Feeling his hand grip tighter on your head, with one finally thrust and a loud groan of pleasure, scara finally released himself down your throat, pushing you over the edge as you coat your hand and pants in your load.

“Mmh! You’re such a good fuck toy,m. Now make sure to clean up the mess m’kay?”

Pulling out, leaving a messy string of saliva mixed with his load; Scara took a deep breath and returned to his paperwork like nothing happened, leaving you panting and and mess on the floor, still somewhat dazed.

“Y-yes…sir…”

HSIDUDICUIDJDIVUDO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

squeaks 👺👨‍🦽👹🧍

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hi ducky can I please have an emergency request? can u write a story for a y/n who keeps her emotions in bc every time she tries to tell someone someone else complains about something.

and I think u started watching black clover so can u write it with luck and magna ? either together or separate is okey.

thank u 💔

Yes you sure can.

Bumping this one up bc I’m really feeling this hardcore rn

I may make this kinda self-indulgent with the issues y/n is facing???

My dms are open if you wanna vent! I’m here for you, anon. 💜💜💜💜

CW BELOW THE CUT: none.

Luck Voltia and Magna Swing

Things weren’t going too well for you, there’s no way to hide that fact.

From whatever it was, your day was poisoned by unhappiness, and you didn’t know what to do to aid it.

Of course, you refused to let any of the other bulls in on how you were feeling. It was especially difficult to keep Asta from pestering you; the kid is very attentive.

“Show. Never tell.” Is what you would tell yourself, forcing the feelings back into a tiny box.

You tried so hard to keep your face up as you walked through the base, but most days it was impossible to get anything besides a hopeless frown.

When asked how you were, you shrugged it off, merely explaining that you just have a “resting sad face”

Many believed you, nodding with an “ohh” while walking away.

But Magna we’re not buying into any of your nonsense. The two would exchange worried glances at your excuses.

When the team slowly gathered together in the living room after dinner, you were not doing great whatsoever. Your mood was sour, and you were barely focused on anything.

“Hey, everything alright?” Asta asked as he sat next to you. “You didn’t eat at dinner, and usually you have a great appetite.”

You sighed with a broken smile, “To be honest I’m-“

“Oh my god, Asta, did you see what Yami had me doing today? I didn’t get a break once! I’m so tired of being his wheels all the time,” Finral whined as he plopped down next to the anti-magic user.

To your dismay, everyone gathered around their senior to listen to his tale of woe, leaving you behind and ignored again.

You stand up and retreat to your bedroom, leaving without a single word.

You didn’t have much time alone before there was a gentle knocking on your door. “(Y/N)? Can we come in?” It was Luck’s voice…?

You didn’t reply, instead burying your head into your pillow. You heard their bickering through the door.

“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way-“

“Magna no! They didn’t give us permission to come in-“

“And what if something happened to them?? Would you rather us stand out here and do nothing when-“

“You need to respect their wishes!”

“You can come in,” you say stoically, not moving from your previous position.

The door opens slowly, revealing the two bulls.

“Hey, careful doing that,” Magna quickly made his way over to your bed, turning your head toward them. “You’ll suffocate if you don’t leave room for air.”

“Whatever…” you murmur, eyes glazed over.

“(N/N),” Luck begins, “Are you okay?”

You sit upright to greet them “Yeah I’m-“

“No, like actually okay,” he interrupts, moving to sit next to you.

There’s a solemn silence…

“Hey, (N/N), tell us what’s going on, kid,” Magna hums as he brushes a few stray hairs out of your face, sitting on your other side.

They wait with baited breath for your reply, worry evident in their eyes.

“I’m not okay… and I don’t know what to do,” you finally confess in a sotto-voce tone.

Both put a supportive hand on your back or shoulder, listening carefully.

“Everything is falling apart… and I-I’m not sure what to do. I’m usually g-good at fixing things but…” you laugh a bit in pitifulness, “I can’t even fix myself.”

“You don’t have to fix yourself; that’s why we’re here,” the mowhawked mage mutters, squeezing your shoulder gingerly.

“But what if I can’t be fixed? What if I have to live like this every day?”

“Nothing lasts forever,” Luck’s sweet voice chimes. “Time won’t stop whenever you feel sad, it will keep moving and you’ll be forced to feel better.”

“It feels so hopeless… nobody cares…” you whisper

“That’s not-“ he attempts.

“It is true. The moment Fin complained, everyone turned to listen to him instead. I don’t feel heard or respected… I don’t-“ tears start to fill your eyes “I feel so alone.”

“Hey,” Magna’s low voice sounds, “You are far from alone…” he wipes a falling tear with his thumb. “You have people who love you and are willing to support you every step of the way.”

“Yeah!” A quiet cheer of approval left the lightning mage. “You know how much we love you, and we would do anything for you to feel like yourself again.”

The flame mage gets in front of you, locking your eyes. “Tell us anything that’s on your mind… what’s making you feel like less than you are? Anything is fair game, don’t be afraid.”

You look around at their concerned faces once more, and suddenly everything falls apart. Your shoulders heave up and down as your body is wracked with the sobs you’ve been keeping hidden.

As you wail loudly, the two instantly move in to hug you. Magna cradles your head against his chest while Luck hugs around your torso and lays his head on your lap.

The two wordlessly cling onto you as you spill your tale of woe. Many—having heard your pained cries— attempt to check in multiple times. Magna shooed them instantly, shooting a death glare to anyone who tried to enter.

When you finally finished, you slumped downward, resting in their loving embrace. “Thank you…”

“Anytime, kid… anytime.” Magna whispered as he pats your shoulder.

When no response was given from the Cherry berserker, the two of you look down to notice that he had fallen asleep on your lap.

And for the first time that day, you started laughing.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[cybiirz]

hello! i really enjoyed your wrio drabble <33 can i request another fluffy and/or suggestive drabble with his grace? thank u so much!

Ahhh omg my first ask!! This honestly somehow motivated me to write something so please feel free to leave any requests that you’d like! But please kindly read the rules first and thank you so very much for asking! <3

ೃ⁀➷ SCENERY

Wriothesley x Gn!Reader

Sypnosis : As someone who loved scenery and water, you opted to take your friend who you hadn’t seen for 5 years to admire such landscape with you. But even being near water managed to rekindle a fire within the both you.

WC : 1.1K

A/N : Ok so just in case you can’t really get the feeling of the imagery I attempted to create, if you listen to “I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship”by Studio Killers since it gets that playful, kind of banter feeling I tried to make then that’d be great. Honestly this whole thing is just self indulgent and probably very corny but whatever..no seriously it’s acc cheesy but still read pls <3

“Hurry, you’ll miss the best view!” You yelled towards Wriothesley who was following closely behind. Right now, you were running to the sandy parts near the waters of Fontaine as the night sky blanketed the nation.

“I’m only a few steps behind, you’re a slow runner you know?” He retorted from behind you. You looked at him over your shoulder before scoffing in response.

Finally, after a good 30 minutes of going through hoards of hillichurls and abyss mages, the two of you had managed to make it towards the somewhat-beach. Just as you were about to step into the sand, you threw your shoes and socks to the side, before pulling up the pants you wore.

Wriothesley simply stood on the grass, arms crossed as he watched you play around with the small waves that crashed against your ankles. You had a beaming smile on your face as the cool night breeze brushed your face. Realising that Wriothesley wasn’t with you, you turned around and was disappointed at what you saw.

“Seriously? I brought you here to at least have some fun. You look like a strict father watching his kid flirt with another kid or something,” You exaggeratedly mocked his actions before smirking at him. He rolled his eyes before sighing.

“I’m already taking a night off from the Fortress. And doing childish things like this wouldn’t be worth my time,” The warden replied with a tired tone. Your mouth fell open before you strided over to him. Once you were in front of the man, you pulled him down by his tie so that you were now face to face.

“Yeah but you took that night off to spend with me and we haven’t seen each other for 5 years. Do me a favour, and just have fun, for crying out loud,” You groaned to him. After he didn't answer, you scrunch your nose before you went back to the water.

After hearing a deep exhale from him, you soon heard him taking off those hellish boots whilst he pulled up the cuffs of his trousers. Your hand was on your hip as you stood still and watched the ripples in the water before a hand grabbed yours.

“Hey, I’m sorry for being that way,” Wriothesley said almost solemnly before bringing you close to him by dragging your arm. “I’m just getting used to you finally being back,” He added before going quiet. It was silent between the two of you as he stared at you and you to him.

Then, your lips curved up before you laughed. “I knew you’d give in,” You hummed out.

“Woww…I guess I should’ve expected it,” The warden uttered before the two of you chuckled again. But once more, silence befell your pair. Wriothesley’s eyes flickered to your lips as yours did his. But then a much larger wave slammed against you, reaching up to your knees.

“Right, come on I need to show you!” You exclaimed before running deeper into the water. You heard him shout to wait but you ignored it. You guessed that he assumed that the view would be above water but he was sorely mistaken. Clasping your hands together, you took a dive straight in.

Slowly, your eyes opened to see Wriothesley still at the surface. But then he mumbled something along the lines of “For archons sakes…” before he dove in after.

You grabbed his shoulder before swimming around him and coming close to him again. You then pushed off of him and began swimming further down.

He followed closely as you began to swim towards a skull-like structure, almost one of a dragon-like-creature. Once he saw the rays of moon reflecting against it, his head cocked to the right just the slightest. The fish swam in sync as the sea plants danced with the water’s flow.

He turned his head towards you, seeing how you were dazed at the scenery in front of you. It was almost like there was no thought in your head, other than fully absorbing the beauty that stood before you. But it seems he was doing the same, unknown to you.

A very small smile overcame his face just as you turned to him. Your expression beamed as you signalled to him what he thought to which he replied with, “Yeah, it was…gorgeous. Now let me take you somewhere,” As he grabbed your hand before taking off towards the surface.

As you reached above the water, the two of you sprung out and took a deep breath. You then faced him before holding his shoulder with one hand. He then pointed to the sky as your eye followed, only to see the moon reflecting down on you and him. It was so simple but so…eccentric? Majestic? Divine? There was no way to even describe it.

After snapping back to reality, you realised that Wriothesley was looking at you. Not intensely, no. Rather, there was a more relaxed feeling to it. His hand reached up and moved some hair that was stuck to your forehead. The two of you then simply swam there, basking in the scene around you.

His hand gently caressed the back of your neck as your left hand held tightly onto his shoulder. Time felt slow now as you both leaned in. It felt like a millennia before your lips finally landed on one another. And it was like two pieces of a puzzle coming together.

The kiss was slow but there were so very many feelings being poured out into it. Ones of love, desire, longing and hundreds of others but you were too lost to think. Finally you two parted, still keeping your eyes trained on his lips.

Unsure of what to do now, you simply looked up and gave him that same smile as you did back at the beach.

“Archons, I could have that smile stare at me day and night and I'd never get bored,” He murmured. You gagged jokingly at the cheesy line as he chose to just grin. And before you knew it, he desperately dived in for another as he cupped your face in his hands. A kiss, not a swim…

After him getting over that little patch of his, your foreheads slowly joined together as you held each other and bathed in the afterglow of your love finally being confirmed. Being separated for 5 years and coming back certainly managed to relight some old feeling which the both of you thought you had gotten over.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten our shoes back at the shore.” Your shoulders immediately tensed up.

[dotster001]

hihi! just in here to say that i love your twisted earth au very much, its such an interesting concept and i love the way you write the characters?!!?!/ and to request some twisted earth hcs with rollo, chenya, and neige!

Twisted Earth Part Six

Summary: non NRCx gn!reader. You are the game. They are real.

A/N: full disclosure, I'm on the English server and have worked really hard to avoid masquerade spoilers. So Rollo's part is based on the snippets I've seen. After I play the event, if I think my assessment is off, I'll redo his part. Also, initially I was going to have Neige be a VA of your best friend, but an anon gave me an idea to have him as a villain. Special thanks to you boo!

Parts: One Two Three Four Five

He is a little like Floyd in that he's always searching for fun. Unlike Floyd, instead of crashing, he just continues to up the silliness stakes. His friends downloaded the game on his phone as an attempt to keep him out of trouble for a while.

And it worked! Kind of!  When he's not sneaking onto NRC campus, or going to his own classes, he's got his eyes trained on his phone. It's the first time a lot of his peers have ever seen him sit still.

He decided you would be the most fun to prank, and the most likely to enable his behavior. Whether this is true or not, if you were real, he'd be dragging you along for the ride. I wish you luck man. If you think you hear breathing or giggling behind you, but can't see anyone, trust your instincts. He wants to see you jump.

He didn't start playing until later so he only has one or two of your cards. He is incredibly jealous of his classmates who have the cards he wants, and may or may not make it very difficult for them to play during event periods so that they don't get any farther ahead of him.

He's been acting ever since he was a child. But he's never gotten a chance to let loose! With this project, it wouldn't be outright clear that Neige was in it at all, so he got to be an antagonistic millionaire's son  in the second book. And he had so much fun! Plus, now he's friends with all these voice actors, who really want to allow him the chance to let loose as the villain. He's so excited for his new opportunities!

He plays because it reminds him of working with his voice actor friends. Because the cast was so large though, he didn't have a chance to work with everyone.  You and your immediate friend group were not an arc he got to see come together. He thinks that's why he was drawn to you. You were a route that was completely new to him. The novelty, and just how precious of a character you seem to be, keeps his attention, no matter how long he plays.

If you were real, he would wrap you in a blankie and tell you all the ways he loved you until you loved yourself, and could never doubt in yourself. He really really really wants to kiss the tip of your nose. (He can't explain it. It's just an urge he has) 

He has all of your cards but one. It's just the bonus of playing since its release. He's missing an event card where you are dressed in a Halloween costume. He really wanted it too, but it's alright! He can just ask to see the script, that way he doesn't miss the story.

A world without magic? Magicless humans? He is wondering if the Devs got a little glimpse of heaven when they were making this game.

You. You are so perfect. You could be his pure human, who will help him fix this world. After he helped you see the light of course.

(I am so sorry. My image of him is kind of like a psycho)

He plays after a long hard day of being surrounded by flawed mages (himself included). It just eases his spirit a little bit. Not all is wrong with the world.

He doesn't really bother collecting cards. He has what he has and he's alright with it. He gets what he needs from you from the main story, and his late night shower thoughts.

Side note, he does not like other people's fan theories about you. Only his are correct, and he'll fight people on it until they get annoyed and give up.

[dearasteria]

Major Gale romance SPOILERS below, so please DO NOT read and watch if you don't want to get spoiled.

I was REALLY worried about how romance with Gale would go, especially after talking to him right after he gets Karsas' book. My Tav wanted to believe and trust him, but something didn't feel right. At the end of Act II, when Tav tries to convince him not blow himself up for his ex's forgivness/to save Faerûn, it can be summed up with that one gif from Grey's Anatomy: "So pick me. Choose me. Love me" 🤡. Honestly, she asks not only to choose her, but also not to kill her and the rest of the team. Gale is so easily swayed and tells Tav that he loves her, even more than Mystra. Tav should be happy, right? But I'm like WAIT A DAMN MINUTE, it was faaar too easy, I mean, no protests from him, I didn't even have to use persuasion to convince him. At that point, after the trauma that Bioware had caused us with Anders and Solas, I'm getting paranoid. Gale doesn't love Tav, he's definitely hiding something. But I'm thinking to myself, "Okay, calm down, he just doesn't want to die, super understable. Maybe he really loves her and he needed to hear it? He needed reassurance that he has something to live for? Yes, it must be it". But then I go to the quest journal and see this:

DAMMIT GALE, you snake 🐍 My poor baby Tav (especially since the romance scene in Waterdeep was so warm and tender). She's so in love in him. Now I'm convinced that he will definetly betrey us, stubs us right in the heart.

At the beginning of Act III, he becomes obsessed with a book called The Annals of Karsus that may help him learn more about the crown. He becomes obsessed with how powerful he can become. When Tav gives him the book and says, "We already know the crown's dangerougs. Wouldn't that make things worse?" he replies:

"Worse? It could be the best thing that ever happened to me. To us."

After all this, Gale tries to convince Tav to help him reconstruct the crown. We have this beautiful scene on the boat and when I tell you my jaw dropped. HE CHOOSES TAV, listens to her concerns and simply chooses her.

The way he says it, the way he corrects himself… damn. For Tav, it's like a bucket of cold water. And I'm like, "Here we go again" 🤡

Furthermore, when we visit the Stormshore Tabernacle in Baldur's Gate and interact with Mystra's statue, he seems to feel so uncomfortable, he doesn't want to be there. Tav starts to think he's definitely hiding something. She would like to hear Mystra's version of what happened between her and Gale (I hope we can talk to her at some point in the game, it would be very interesting).

My Tav, however, disagreed, and Gale replies, "I hope you're right. I truly do. Godly power, perhaps I can live without, but you? You're everything". Has the curse of dating mages that leave players heartbroken been broken?

But I have to admit, when he said: "With you, I forget my goddess. I love you. Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you want what I want. Please" - OH GODS 😳. I was so close to agreeing to this madness. The VA did an amazing job (side note: so many talented VAs in this game, it's mind blowing), the writing is amazing, the music is incredible, I was blown away, really.

Next day, after the boat scene, he's so adorable and full of love for Tav. Then I remembered his gratest flaw (for me it's more like his biggest fear) from the scene with Zethino in the circus: "He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead". At the time I thought he was lying, manipulating Zethino and his answers. My distrust of mages in games… Yes, I have a problem 😅

I haven't finished the game, but I have high hopes for a happy ending. No spoilers please, thanks :)

What a rollecoster of emotions, I love it, I love Gale. It felt like I was playing Dragon Age: Origins for the first time, way back when I was a teenager. It's really insane how this game makes me feel, how much I care about its characters and story.

EDIT: Okay, so we have an audience with Mystra, I mean only Gale, but we see the whole conversation between them. My only complain is that Gale doesn't mention Tav when Mystra asks him why he defied her 💔 The outcomes are different depending on whether you do it before or after the boat scene. Personally, I think doing the boat scene before meeting Mystra is much better. I get the impression that Gale is abandoning the plan to reconstruct the crown solely for Tav and his love for her. And the drama 👌🏻 it gives me life.

[sweetmage]

Happy Friday! How do you feel about a bit of Purple Mage M!Hawke/Anders/Justice and some "Reopening an Old Wound," either literally or metaphorically?

Hiii! Thank you so much for the prompt, I really enjoyed writing this one <3 Justice is more of an influence on Anders' thoughts/opinions than a direct presence in this (save for a few mentions) but I think it fits the prompt otherwise! Also, it totally got away from me, I couldn't resist falling into love confession territory 😆💖Thank you again!

@dadrunkwriting -- Rating: M Word Count: 5325 Characters: Anders, Hawke, Sebastian (mentioned) Trigger/Content Warnings: Brief canon typical mention of past abuse and sexual assault (with regards to the Circle), Sebastian critical (in the context of the story and Anders' feelings/opinions) Tags: Supportive Mage Hawke, past trauma, emotional hurt/comfort, banter and teasing, love confessions, innuendos, suggestive flirting, making out, insecurities, reassurance, crying, venting session, bed sharing, spending the night, falling in love.

Summary: After an insensitive confrontation from Sebastian rubbed him raw and a trip to the Hanged Man and Blooming Rose failed to soothe the hurt, Anders began to wander the streets and accidentally found himself on Hawke's doorstep...

Based on this Sebastian & Anders banter (imgur link)

Anders must have been the first man alive to ever leave a whorehouse unsatisfied. Even there he hadn't found respite from his troubled thoughts, only disappointment, discomfort, and a considerably lighter coin purse.

Though the arrogant prick had up and left hours ago, Anders could still feel his words like a dagger in his gut, lodged so tight even drink and fair company couldn't dull the ache.

He hated Sebastian, that spoiled princeling with a silver spoon shoved so far up his ass he could surely taste the metal. He was everything wrong with the Chantry personified; a zealot who hid his privilege beneath a veneer of piety and poverty while turning his eyes from the rot beneath his feet.

Of course he couldn't understand Anders' anger or grasp the depths of despair mages lived in every day, the fear that had been the cornerstone of his—every mage's—existence from the moment he'd first manifested magic.

The fact that that sanctimonious bastard dared even ask if something happened there, as though the reality all around him didn't speak for itself—it made him want to spit.

At this rate, he should have returned home but he'd lost track of the hours, drunk and aimless as he wandered through the city streets. He hadn't realized which turns he'd taken, how many steps he'd climbed until he found himself standing on a familiar doorstep, fingers hesitating at the knocker.

It was late, well past the hour he should be troubling Hawke, but when he tried to turn and go he found his body refusing to listen. Instead, his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the knocker and knocked softly, regretting the action as soon as the sound echoed through the silence.

Retreating with a step back and another to follow, he was already turning to go when the door swung open and Hawke stood there, sleep-tousled and in a half-tied robe that hung loosely off the shoulder.

Anders' tongue seemed to swell and lodge itself at the back of his throat and his further attempts at escape landed him sprawled unceremoniously against the pavement at the bottom of the steps.

"What in the—" Hawke's hands were suddenly upon him, rolling him over onto his back and hauling him to his feet, his strong arms steadying him. "Anders?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," Anders muttered, the words spilling from his lips without conscious thought as he brushed the dirt from his coat. "I'm sorry. I'm going."

Hawke's hand caught his wrist and held him back. "Anders. Come inside."

"No, I shouldn't. I need to get back. I just, I didn't know where else to go. But I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm fine." He tugged at his wrist and was surprised when Hawke held firm.

"You show up at my doorstep at Maker-knows-what hour, falling all over yourself and trying to run off into the night and I'm supposed to believe you're fine?"

Anders' gaze fell to the hand around his wrist, unable to meet Hawke's eyes. Against his better judgment, he said nothing, the silence stretching on long enough that Hawke sighed and dragged him into the house.

He didn't have the will or energy to fight it, following without a word of protest or resistance, allowing himself to be led through the quiet manor up to Hawke's bedroom.

"You didn't drop by to borrow a cup of sugar," Hawke noted, gesturing for him to have a seat at the desk or on the bed. Anders chose the desk. "Why are you here?"

Anders thought long and hard about the question only to come to an unsatisfactory answer. "I don't know."

"Are you drunk?"

"Yes."

"I thought you said Justice disapproved."

Anders shrugged, picking up the closest thing to him—a letter opener—and flipping it between his fingers, spinning it round and round, back and forth, his eyes glued to the movement of the blade. "I guess he's out for the night." It was meant to be a joke but he didn't have it in him and it slipped right over Hawke's head.

"Huh... So what happened? Trouble at the clinic?"

"No. I haven't been back today," he answered, shaking his head.

"After your little spat with Seb, you mean?" He asked the question in a casual, offhand way as though it wasn't a big deal, just a little squabble among travelmates.

Anders didn't answer, but the mention of Sebastian's name made his knuckles whiten around the blade’s grip.

"I should have said something," Hawke admitted, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms. "I didn't expect it to get so ugly."

"It's not your job to fight my battles for me." He looked up at him for a moment, then quickly turned away.

"I don't get paid to do a lot of things," Hawke replied. "Never stopped me before. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"You'd face his wrath, listen to him prattle on just for the warmth and fuzziness of it all?" His lip quirked slightly, momentarily diverted from his woes as he regarded his friend dubiously.

"Everyone needs a hobby." He pushed himself off the wall to join Anders by the desk, settling himself on the edge and looking down upon him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," he said, not entirely truthfully. It would be all too easy to let it spill forth—his worries and fears and frustrations—but it felt selfish. It was easier to turn his sights to the plight of others, to bear the pain of the downtrodden in place of his own and forget that he, too, could hurt.

"So you came here just to brood at my desk and play with my things?"

“Apparently," he murmured. Returning the opener to its proper place, Anders instead ran his hands idly along the smooth edge of the desk. "I'm sorry. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I didn't have some grand plan in mind. I didn't mean to come here."

"And yet, here you are. If you didn't want to see me, there's a few other people in Kirkwall you could have dropped in on. Washed up Orlesian chevaliers. Carta dwarves. That crazy guy who hangs out under the stairs. You picked me. What does that say about you, I wonder?"

"That I have poor taste and a penchant for trouble?" Anders guessed.

"I was going more for 'he needs someone who cares' but that's a close second."

Smiling ruefully, Anders shook his head, his hair slipping from behind his ear. Hawke reached over to brush it aside, tucking the loose locks gently back where they belonged. Quietly, Anders turned to look at him, eyes tracing his friend's features in the dim candlelight as his hand lingered at his jaw a moment too long.

"I'm awake now and my ears are all yours so why not talk? It might make you feel better."

It might... It just seemed so unnecessary when there were far greater concerns in Kirkwall to address. Yet he found himself regretting that last drink, the one that now had the words resting heavy on the tip of his tongue, begging for freedom.

"Anders?"

"He asked me if something happened to me in the Circle. If I was angry about it. The very fact that he could even ask that..." He scoffed and turned away. "The nerve of it..."

"Did something happen to you?" Hawke asked, his tone soft and low. Somehow on his lips—a mage, a friend—it sounded less prying than when Sebastian had asked it.

"Something happens to a lot of us. That's how things are in a Circle. They take your life from you, tell you what to think and how to behave. They force mages into isolation, separate them from everything and everyone they've ever loved and they're told it's for their own safety, that they're only helping. Then they do a lot worse than that, they have all these pretty words to dress that up, to make them believe that what they're going through is just a natural consequence of being born who they are." He felt Justice stirring at the thought and tried to quash his emotions before they could spark something bigger.

"I didn't ask about the other mages, though. I asked about you."

An odd feeling rose within him—like a spotlight had been trained upon him, the only man in a dark room. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "Yes. No. Sort of. It doesn't matter."

Hawke seemed dissatisfied with his answer, his lips pursed and head cocked slightly to one side. "It doesn't sound like you were very ‘fortunate’," he remarked of Anders' early statements, the words he'd used to dismiss Sebastian's questions.

'It's not about being beaten or raped by a templar— that does happen, but I've been fortunate.'

His own words played over in his mind, a barrier he'd erected between himself and the truth. That it kept Sebastian out as well was just a bonus. He'd spent so long building his defenses, fortifying himself in the way required to stand for others, but Hawke's steady, caring gaze was chipping away at them.

"I was fortunate to escape," he conceded, his words halting and reluctant. "Most don't. They still face that threat every day."

"So that's what happened to you? Raped and beaten? And everything else you were on about?"

He had met few people less tactful than Hawke, but something about the way he put aside his mask of charm and humor and just said the things others danced around was oddly comforting. He was trying and that was more than many had done for Anders.

"I don't really want to talk about this," he answered quietly, not meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

Anders felt the prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes and the heat rising in his face and hated both. "It doesn't matter," he said, trying and failing to keep his voice even. "It was a long time ago."

"Maybe. It doesn't make it hurt any less, does it?"

"No. It doesn't. I haven't told anyone except for Justice. He... saw it. When he joined with me. Everything that happened over decades in a split second. But then we couldn't speak to each other anymore. So the only one that knows now is..." He looked down at his hands, flexing the fingers as though they weren't his own. "I shouldn't have put that on you. I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything..."

Without preamble, Hawke lowered himself from the desk and placed his hands upon Anders' shoulders and pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around him in an awkward but sincere embrace.

Anders stiffened in surprise, uncertain how to react at first. After a moment, though, he gave in, leaning into Hawke and letting his arms circle his waist, hands fisting at the back of his robes as his emotions began to spill forth, a quiet sob wracking his body before he could stifle it.

Hawke's hand cradled the back of his head, his fingers slipping into his hair. He graciously said nothing, simply holding Anders as the dam broke and his years of pain and suffering found release.

He had never wished to distract from the bigger picture, to center himself in a fight that was not his alone, but he knew that Hawke saw the root of what he was fighting for. Was it so wrong, then, to let him see a glimpse of the man beneath the cause?

Anders didn't know, but it felt good to be seen, to be understood.

"Feel better?" Hawke asked, breaking the silence between them when Anders finally pulled back.

He was embarrassed at his outburst, at the damp patch of tears upon Hawke's shoulder, but there was no mocking in his friend's eyes, no judgment or disgust, just simple compassion. "A bit. Thank you."

"My pleasure. I mean, not my actual pleasure, obviously. I didn't enjoy watching you cry, I just—you know what? Nevermind." He cleared his throat, straightening his house robe and looking away.

Anders smiled, a small, fleeting thing, and wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his coat. "You're a good friend, Hawke. I'm not sure what I've done to— I mean, you're just... you're a good man."

"Be still, my beating heart," Hawke muttered, putting a hand to his chest as though overwhelmed by the flattery. And perhaps he was, his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink and a sheepish smile upon his lips. "Don't go getting all sentimental on me or I'll be the next one to wind up in tears."

"Well if you need a shoulder..."

"Those do look pretty soft," Hawke teased, gesturing to the plumage that adorned Anders' coat. "I'm going to have to take you up on that sometime."

"Anytime," Anders said, chuckling lightly.

"So, would you prefer the bed or the floor?"

The question left him feeling off-kilter, unsure whether Hawke was making a joke or asking legitimately. He hesitated a moment, considering, then realized it was probably a bit silly to think too hard about it if he was being genuine.

"I think the cots in my clinic are just fine, thank you."

"Seriously, Anders? Still trying to scamper off? After all that? We've hugged and everything!"

"And that means you think I should share your bed now?"

"I never mentioned anything about sharing," Hawke replied, his brows arching.

"A-ah..." Anders felt the heat rise in his cheeks, his heart picking up a notch. "I suppose you didn't." Standing quickly, he tried not to seem too hasty as he turned for the door. "Still, it's late and I'm sobering up so—"

Hawke's hand closed around his wrist, stopping him again. "Stay."

"What?"

"Here. Tonight. With me. Stay."

It was hard not to notice how close Hawke was, standing a scant inch from him, the scent of him filling his senses. His eyes fell to his lips and then he tore his gaze away, his face hot, pulse racing.

He knew he shouldn't get any closer, but the night had already gotten away from him and his thoughts were still hazy, clouded with alcohol and emotion.

"It's a long walk, the sun will be up before you get back to Darktown and you've had quite a bit to drink. It's better you stay here. And... I'd miss you, if you left."

Anders looked at Hawke, at his kind, earnest expression and could not find it in himself to say no. "You do so much for me. I don't know how to thank you."

"Try getting a solid eight to ten hours of sleep for once and we'll call it even," he replied, only half-teasing.

"Ten? I haven't even slept for more than six since..." He sighed, not even knowing how long he'd been undersleeping to allow for more work time. But if that was all Hawke was asking then it was hardly an unreasonable request. "Alright."

"Good." Releasing his wrist, Hawke took a step back, removing himself from Anders' personal space. "Do you need anything? Food? Water?"

"No, I'll be alright. Sleep does sound nice. I'll just go hang up my coat and—"

"Ah. Right. You need something to sleep in. Hold tight a moment." He strode across the room and rifled through his wardrobe, returning a few moments later with a loose house robe. "It's probably a bit too big but it's better than nothing. There's a basin in the corner if you want to wash up. Or you can use the tub downstairs, it's big enough for a family. Not that you need that, unless you have an interesting story to tell. Not that it's any of my business if you do." He held the robe out to him and Anders took it, amused at his rambling. He seemed almost... nervous? Or perhaps the hour was getting to him.

"I'll make do with the basin, thanks," he said, reluctant to dally any longer than necessary lest he lose his nerve and get the urge to flee again.

"Of course." Hawke smiled, gesturing vaguely towards the washbasin and turning away for Anders' privacy.

He dipped behind the divider and stripped down to his smalls, performing a quick, perfunctory wash before redressing in the robe Hawke had provided. To say they were too large would be a vast understatement, his slender frame was all but swallowed up by the oversized garment. He flushed, tugging self-consciously at the hem as he emerged.

As expected, Hawke wore an amused grin the moment his eyes fell upon him, just barely withholding a snicker at his expense.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up," Anders grumbled, though he couldn't help but return the smile, his amusement proved infectious.

"Oh, I'm going to, don't even worry," he said, his laughter bubbling over. "Maker, I ought to feed you come morning, you could use a few good meals. You're practically swimming in that robe."

As though even a few meals would fill him out this much. "I eat fine, Hawke," he grumbled in retort. But, for all his eye-rolling, he was somewhat endeared by the sentiment behind Hawke's teasing. It was an oddly domestic scene and Anders was loathe to admit a part of him was enjoying it.

"Sure you do. And I'm the king of Ferelden. Now come on, bed's over here." Hawke moved from his spot beside the desk to pull back the bedcovers and gestured for Anders to climb in. "So... what you said before, the thing about us sharing...?" As soon as the words fled his lips he looked mortified, as though he hadn't meant to actually ask them.

"Hawke..." Anders stared at him, brow quirked and a faint flush rising in his cheeks. "I wasn't serious about that. I just thought that's what you were saying—"

Hawke looked stricken and pale, a nervous sheen forming upon his brow. "Right. No, I know. I just... Forget it. Nevermind. Just... you can have the bed." Backing away he began to retreat towards the door. "I'll take the chaise."

"Hawke, wait." Anders laid a hand upon his shoulder before he could think better of it and, after a deep breath he exhaled with a chuckle. "Point taken, I see how you feel when I'm trying to make a break for it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— It wasn't that I was trying to run from you, it's just— Maker's balls, can I form a single coherent sentence?" He ran a hand down over his weary features. "Look, you're very tired and very vulnerable and a little drunk so I shouldn't have said anything. I was being an ass. And after what you told me tonight... I don't want to be another person you have to be afraid of."

Anders was silent for a moment, his hand still upon Hawke's shoulder while he mulled his words. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't reel in the scowl that darkened his features even when Hawke's expression shifted in response. He let his hand drop, though not his gaze. "What? Now that I've poured out my heart, you think I'm just going to fall apart on you? Don't make me regret opening up to you. I don't want to be treated differently because of it. I can't stand that."

Where Anders had expected more pity and floundering, he instead found relief in Hawke's expression, followed by a soft smile. "Thank the bloody Maker. You have no idea how terrible I am at the whole 'walking on eggshells' song and dance." He let out a deep, tension-breaking sigh.

"You've made that clear." His lips twitched into a brief, wry smile before returning Hawke's honesty with a bit of his own. "I appreciate you trying. Really. It’s meant the world to me to still have you here at my side after everything. I've never had a friend like you before. Maker knows what I'd do without you." He was thankful he was sobering because the more he spoke, the closer he found himself to a confession he'd rather not make.

"Probably have a lot fewer people trying to kill you," Hawke mused.

"Or a lot more. Or I'd already be ashes in the pyre. Either way, I'm glad I have you with me." He managed a half-smile, shrugging the robe further up his shoulder though it was a losing battle. "But enough of that. It's late and someone was telling me I need a solid ten hours of sleep." Stepping around Hawke, he climbed into the bed and slid beneath the covers. The sheets were sinfully comfortable—unlike anything he'd known in his clinic, the circle, or even the Keep—and his weary body was already melting into the mattress, eager for rest. A shame, then, that his mind was set to racing again as Hawke climbed in beside him.

"I assume this is back on the table then?" He asked, settling in so close Anders could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the subtle floral of his hair as it fell and fanned half off of his pillow and half onto Anders'.

He'd forgotten the question entirely the moment it reached his ears. "Sorry?" He asked, shaking his head slightly.

"Sorry?" Hawke echoed, lids lowered groggily or perhaps even sultry as he watched Anders over the short space between them. "Are you cold? You're shaking something fierce."

Was he? He hadn't noticed, his whole body had gone stiff at Hawke's closeness and he hadn't been able to feel much of anything else since. But Hawke's fingers upon his arm were proof enough that it wasn't just a flight of fancy, that he hadn't imagined that Hawke was looking at him in such a way. "Oh," he murmured, drawing his limbs inward and willing his heart to calm. "Yes. A bit."

And it was only then that he noticed Hawke's arm moving across his pillow. His fingers were slow and steady, deliberate as they inched towards the back of his neck until Anders, unable to help himself, moved in towards the contact. He rested his cheek against Hawke's upper arm, face pressed into his shoulder as Hawke's fingers continued up and threaded into his hair, combing lightly through the loose locks. He lay still as a stone, wondering if Hawke was feeling every heavy thud of his heart, when he'd realize what he was doing and who it was he was with and recoil, but the moments ticked by and he did no such thing.

"Hawke?" He lifted his head from his arm to meet his eyes, only to find himself drowning in those warm pools of amber, the breath caught in his lungs. Anders' lips parted and the words fell forth before he could stop them: "You don't know what you're doing, what you're risking." They were the same words he'd told himself time and again, ones he'd used to distance himself from others, from temptation. Yet, there in the quiet intimacy of Hawke's bed, they sounded hollow and false. "You deserve better than the ruin I will bring you."

"Why did you come here tonight?" Hawke asked him softly. "To me. Why didn't you go to Varric? Isabela? Why didn't you go home?"

The words did not come easy, filtered through a thousand lies he wished to tell. In the end, however, he could not. Not to him. "I only feel like myself when I'm with you. Like I'm alive and can face anything. Like anything matters. Like I matter." He felt more exposed now than he had in Hawke's robe, his heart laid bare before him. Dangerous confessions they were, and yet, they tasted sweet on his tongue. "I wasn't lying when I said I didn't mean to come here. But that's worse, like my heart knew what my head couldn't."

"You speak to me like that then expect me to let you go?"

"You should," he whispered. "I can't give you what you deserve—"

"Then give me what I want," he countered, though Anders did not know which he spoke of—a night, a future—and feared asking for clarification lest it all be dashed to bits. "No... what you want. It's your call," he murmured, fingers slipping from his hair and across Anders' cheek as he withdrew his hand.

What he wanted... dare he even put words to it? A simple touch, the taste of Hawke's lips upon his own, to hear his name whispered in the dark as the morning came. These things were selfish, and yet... perhaps there was nothing so wrong with that now and again. Was it wrong to want another shoulder to share the weight of the world with? He'd been fighting alone for so long...

His body moved before he'd made any conscious decision, his eyes locked upon Hawke's mouth. He thought he saw Hawke swallow, but there was no resistance when he moved forward, no flinch of surprise. His fingers splayed across Hawke's jaw, holding him there as their lips came together in the briefest, softest contact. "Andraste, help us both... I love you, Hawke," he murmured, voice hoarse with longing. "I have not slept soundly a night since I met you because I know you'll await me in my dreams and nothing can sate the ache in me when I wake without you there."

Hawke stayed silent long enough for Anders to start counting the seconds, wondering if perhaps he'd misstepped, but he didn't need to worry long. "It felt nice. Kissing you. I liked that," Hawke said finally. A blush crept over his cheeks, just visible in the lowlight. "Kiss me more? Please?" he added, his thumb brushing the stubble along Anders' jaw. "If you're sure it's not wrong."

It was a question that deserved an answer but all he could think was 'finally', his body closing the remaining distance between them with fervent abandon. His lips sought Hawke's and were greeted with no opposition, Hawke's fingers tangling back into his hair to draw him deeper. Hawke's lips parted beneath his and Anders tasted him, tongue slipping inside and exploring him for the first time. He tasted like sunlight and summer and everything he'd been missing in life. He couldn't help the soft, breathy sighs he spilled into Hawke's lips, his fingers clutching desperately at his robe, afraid if he let go he'd wake again like always.

"Maker, Anders..." Hawke's breath shuddered over the name, his chest rising and falling heavily. "I don't know how to love you right, but I love you. I love you so much," he whispered between frantic kisses, the words Anders longed for so badly falling from those precious lips.

Hawke wanted him, loved him... Anders wanted to sob for joy, his heart filled to burst from those words. "You love me... I could ask no more of you." He was shaking again, he realized, but it was alright. Hawke seemed receptive to every trembling touch, every whimper and sigh, every unspoken request to hold Anders closer and never let him go.

Anders was all but ready to have him here and now when Hawke began to slow the pace back to something tame, drawing him back with a few pecks at his lips. Then, he released him completely and settled back onto the pillow, a faint sheen of sweat upon his brow.

"Sorry," Hawke said, his breath coming in soft pants. "We should... slow down."

Anders let out a faint sigh of his own, a flicker of disappointment igniting inside him, but he tried not to let it show. "Sorry..."

"What are you sorry for?" Hawke asked with a soft laugh, a flush rising on his cheeks as his eyes ran over Anders' face and lips, looking at him in such a way it sent his heart racing once again. "I just thought: Why disappoint you now when I could disappoint you twice as much later? And for twice as long."

"You want to later? With me?"

"Disappoint you and forever change how you look at me?" Hawke asked, a smile touching his lips. "I'd be a complete idiot to pass up that opportunity."

"I didn't mean—I mean, I'd only be let down if you weren't serious," Anders admitted, glancing away from him for a moment. "I don't want to play with your heart, but I hope you won't play with mine either. Maybe it's best you sleep on it. Before you cast your life aside, put yourself in the Chantry's sights..." He was reluctant to bring reality back into a moment so blissful, but he needed Hawke to understand. "No one has done for mages what you have done, few understand our plight like you. So you know what it's like for people like us, the risks you'd be taking for loving me. It's dangerous when you have something you are afraid to lose. They can use that against you. If the Templars hurt you for this, for me, I'd—"

"Hard to argue with that logic," Hawke cut in, waving him into silence. "In that case, I suppose I'd better tell Mother to find a new place. And I'll leave Marian near the road in a crate marked 'for free'... assuming I can find one her size. And Dog is probably smart enough to make his own way, he already loves to eat rubbish so I'm sure he'll manage."

"Excuse me?" Anders asked, blinking owlishly.

"Wouldn't want the Templars coming for anyone I love so it's best I put them out first, right?" He gave him a light, knowing smile that belied his deadpan delivery.

Heat crept to his cheeks and realization struck, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through him. "Well when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous."

"Praise the Maker, you're catching on." He cupped Anders' jaw, running a thumb lightly across his lip. "Let them try to take you from me."

He shivered at the promise, the protective gleam in Hawke's eye. "You really mean that." It wasn't a question, he could read the conviction in his face. "Thank you."

"Will you sleep now?" He asked, shifting closer to him to tuck his face into the crook of his neck, his beard scratching pleasantly at the tender skin. "It's less awkward if we both go instead of me snoring in the middle of you pouring your heart out."

"Yes, love." It felt nice upon his tongue, natural and right as though it had always been waiting there.

"Mmm, that sounds nice." Hawke pressed a chaste peck to the corner of his jaw and he could feel his smile there. "Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight," he said softly back, wrapping his arms around his love. He listened as Hawke's breathing slowed and steadied as he fell to slumber. He almost didn't want to join him, he wanted to bask in this moment forever.

The day's troubles felt worlds away and the ones yet to come no longer loomed so large. Even the thought of that smug prick was more an afterthought than an outrage in Hawke's arms. What did that arrogant prince know anyway? He surely lay alone in the Chantry cots wrapped safely in his ignorance, willfully unaware of the world and its cruelties. To live such a lie and remain on a high horse seemed a pathetic existence, one Anders did not envy despite all he had to witness and endure. Though he—Justice—had his reservations, Anders knew this was no distraction. Hawke had proven himself worthy and then some, risked and suffered for the rights of all mages; Sebastian would continue to grope around in the darkness he chose while the brightest light in Kirkwall had his lips to Anders' neck. He felt vindicated. And tired...

He let his eyes fall shut, Hawke's warmth and scent enveloping him. If he was still dreaming, he hoped he could stay like this just a little longer.

[foxglovepng]

Heeey, can I have a request? I'm a huge fan of Obey Me and Twisted Wonderland, I had this idea where OM mc had a child with one of the demon brothers, and was send to twisted wonderland world. Since OM mc!child is half demon, how would Sam react meeting a half-demon, if you can add with his shadows that would be great!

Thank you so much and have a great day!

Characters: Sam, Mammon Mentioned

CW: Fox's knowledge of Obey Me, A child, demon talk, voodoo talk.

A/N: This is another fandom I do kind of know about but not enough to be like erm actually 🤓☝️. I picked Mammon because besides Lucifer he's the only one I know. I am also assuming the child is under the age of 8 so I am making the crotch demon 6. And a little fun fact I actually have an OC based off Sam's shadows.

You have a great day as well I hope you liked this it's definitely not proofread (I do not proofread anything).

If you liked reblogs and likes are appreciated <3

He'd be chilling in his shop doing whatever a shop keeper does and he sees the door open, but no one enters. He looks around and even looks at his shadows to see if they are messing with him in which they shrug.

He hears a small "Hello" and looks over the counter to see a child. His face would be like 😱.

Since he's the youngest of the staff he'd probably wouldn't know what to do with children more specifically the younger ones. He would also be really confused as to how a LITERAL child got into a school full of mages.

He'd probably be like "Where are your parents?" the child would just shrug.

He'd probably call other staff to help.

He sits the child on the chair and asks about their parents. The child just casually mentions their parents are an underpaid therapist (Thats not Yuu) and a Demon

If real like demonology and whatnot exists in Twst, I think he would go into a coma that a DEMON sent his CHILD.

Would immediately do a cleansing ritual or the equivalent of a cleansing practice.

His shadows would probably play little small harmless pranks on the child to keep them entertained. And would probably accidentally feed them too much sugar making them much more of a handful to take care of.

Same is like What the fuck bro -_-

The staff he called are suddenly busy.

He would scold his shadows for making the child more of a handful.

If a student enters needing something (Pray it isn't Leona, he will drop kick that child) just to see a random hyperactive child Sam stressing and his shadows just not helping they'd be like You good bro? Then leave.

When the child comes down from a sugar high and he finally gets his Shadows to not mess with the child and is able to get said child to sleep the staff finally show up.

"Took you long enough." -_-

Special mention

The child would think Yuu is their parent Malleus would get confused and be like "When did we have a kid..?" and would accidentally make the child his successor to the throne.

I hope I did well with Sam this is actually my first time writing for him.

[zuppizup]

"do you want me to wash your hair?" oooor "you need to eat something" maybe. Fits the little idiots (all you write is cool anyways ehe)

Aw, thank you! I wrote hair washing not that long ago in Rumour has it, so how about the second prompt?

———

A strong breeze buffeted their camping spot and Rayla hurried to shield the fire from the wind. Glancing over her shoulder, she was unsurprised to see Callum touching down on the forest floor. She was surprised to see him almost immediately collapse to his knees the moment he dismissed his mage wings.

“Callum!” She rushed over to him, falling to her own knees by his side. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He nodded, struggling to catch his breath. “Pushed myself... a little-”

“Dummy,” she cut him off, not wanting him to push himself any more. “Come on,” she helped him up and guided him over to their little campsite. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Thanks, Rayla,” he breathed, slumping down onto his bedroll.

She’d propped them up against a log, something that would offer protection from the elements as well as comfort while they were awake. They weren’t even far north yet but even the days had started to feel chilly.

“Hope your okay with root soup again for dinner.” She smirked at him, checking the pot.

“Anything sounds good right now.” He smiled, leaning back against the log and closing his eyes.

She watched him for a moment, frowning. He looked utterly exhausted, his once fine clothes dirty and crumpled and what looked to be a bunch of twigs and dirt sticking out of the side of his head. After what had happened with Zym, she hadn’t exactly liked the idea of him scouting from the air but reluctantly she had to agree, it did make the most sense.

She really wasn’t built to sit idly by and wait for him all day, making soup and fluffing bedrolls. Stirring the pot, she decided it wasn’t getting any better and began to fill a bowl for Callum. Pushing herself to her feet, she joined him by the log.

“Dinner,” she proclaimed, presenting him with the bowl of soup.

“Thanks,” he smiled, his eyelids heavy. His hands shook as he reached for it and he almost spilled the entire contents over his already dirty clothes. “Oops,” he chuckled, resting the bowl on his leg and attempting to lift the spoon to his mouth. If anything, his hands shook more and most of the soup ended up on his lap or back in the bowl. “Damn it.” Snorting, he used his trembling hands to put the bowl on the forest floor, leaning back against the log and closing his eyes. “I’ll have it later.”

“What, is my cooking that bad?” Rayla tried to cheer herself up. She did not like seeing Callum push himself this hard.

He snorted, but didn’t reply, electing to continue to lounge with his eyes closed.

“Come on, Callum, you need to eat something.” She picked up the bowl, stirring it. “Here.” Lifting the spoon, she held it up for him.

Callum cracked one eye, laughing softly at her. “Are you offering to feed me?”

“Are you going to be a baby about it?”

“Well, it would be fitting, I guess-”

He was cut off by Rayla taking advantage of his open mouth and shoving the spoon in there.

[blorbologist]

“I know you” with Vex and Scanlan?

[Getting to these late oop, busy last couple of days; Send me three words + a pairing/character and I'll write up a scene! Not Perc'ahlia please <3 ]

--

Their usual table looks a lot bigger with only a handful of Vox Machina present. Actually, it looks positively huge thanks to Scanlan being here, which… Scanlan, yeah.

Someone - Percival, probably, given how neatly even each glass is lined up - got them too many drinks before most of the party left. Vex’ahlia works on the last one now. It might be Direheart, though she can’t quite identify all of Whitestone’s liquors yet. Not for lack of trying, especially with how today is going. 

The Meat Man, who is Scanlan, who looks about as un-Scanlan-ish as Scanlan could probably tolerate for this long, is rubbing his sternum. Like he’s having chest pains - which means Scanlan is rubbing his forehead through the illusion? 

Yeah, she’s nursing quite the headache herself. Thank you very much.

“So - tell me,” he’s saying, and he sounds nothing like Scanlan. Except for the moments where he almost does in the same way Kaylie sometimes resembles him. “How could you see it was me?”

Scanlan taps a little rhythm into his glass with a nail. Scanlan, but taking up too much space and yet just as much as he should. Tap-taptap-tap. 

A few more tap-taptap-taps as Vex thinks. Or doesn’t - her mind feels willfully blank, an empty shot glass. Everything meaningful in her gut where it churns, happy and sick at once.

He elaborates: “I mean - this thing has held up to a lot of scrutiny! Including from mages, because they really like their antiques apparently. And I had an audience with J’mon and they didn’t say anything either, and they’re a dragon!” (tap-taptap-tap) “Is the hair not realistic enough? Or the clothes? I really practiced. If there are any weak points to my disguise, you really should let me know.”

The pace of his fingers finally falters. Tap. Tap. Almost like he’s worried. “How could you tell?”

There were so many little tells, which is part of what is making this post-reunion drink so unsettling. How he talked about himself, and the fake-grandiose talk, just all the talking. The gait of a gnome in legs far too long for him. That big grin made just Scanlan’s size that fit this face just right, but not right enough. 

She does not say any of that. Maybe because, who fucking knows, he might do this again. And she might need to use these tricks again.

“Well, darling.” Vex’ahlia drowns her drink (her own nails go tink) and throws it back with deliberate nonchalance. Scanlan surely sees through it just as she saw through him. “I know you. So.”

“We all do,” Vax’ildan interjects at her shoulder. 

Fuck! When did he vanish? How long has he been back? She realizes she’s decently tipsy when she actually gives him the satisfaction of jumping. 

“You fuck!”

Vax grins, clapping her on the shoulder. “Barkeep gave me a bottle so we’d leave and stop freaking out her waitstaff with all the day drinking.” His eyes flit towards Scanlan, who was regarding them warmly. Like he missed this. The gnome-but-not deflates as Vax says, “Oy, Scanlan. Mind if Stubby and I just have a drink, us two?”

“Of course not. The hugging was getting a bit much.” Like he could make them stay, in her city.

Which reminds her -

“I’m glad he’s back,” Vax says quietly as the door swings shut behind them. “So glad. But - gods, what’s with all the fucking lies?”

Vex’ahlia smiles weakly. “I know, right?”

Tap-taptap-tap go her nails on her finger, where a ring would rest.

[blackberrysummerblog]

Happy Easter to all of you who celebrate! After a rotten Friday at the animal shelter where I work, I got a very pleasant surprise yesterday when a pregnant stray who came in gave birth to five live and healthy kittens! I might share some pics later on :) In the meantime, thank you @forabeatofadrum and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for the tags this morning, as well as everyone else who’s continued to tag me on other days. I’ve been pretty slow writing lately, but I do have some shares this week!

First, a bit of kid!Baz POV from my COBB:

In the afternoons, I do my homework as soon as we get home and sometimes call my father. He never has much to say. I’ll offer to help Dev with his work and then water the herbs in the conservatory, reminding myself of the names and uses of each one. Dogtooth violet to stop gossip, bay leaves for wish making and prophetic dreams. Tarragon for confidence, St. John’s Wort to stave off colds and fevers. Basil can drive off dark spirits. I rub the leaves between my fingers, remembering Ebb’s lessons as the fresh summer scent breaks across my skin. “Basil can dispel confusion, boys. It turns back fear and weakness, and is used in exorcisms. Carry it with you to protect yourselves from danger, or spread it on the ground to keep away evil. It’s also sometimes used to bring lovers together.” Dev had elbowed me and sniggered, because of course we both associate the herb with my name. I don’t see how any of it relates to me, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s just what I’m called.

And the next is from a sequel I suddenly started writing to Field Trip of Dreams (god I still hate that that’s the title I gave it). I wouldn’t say it’s necessary to read the first fic, although it gives context for the fact that Baz and Simon are dating in eighth year, and everyone but the Mage knows it. It’s a longish share, but I’m enjoying writing so have it:

“Isolation Cabin?” Basilton is repeating in disbelief. His eyes narrow. “But Sir, whatever will we do if we get to talking and discover we were separated at birth?”

Simon understandably pales, but Davy merely snorts and waves a dismissive hand. “Unlikely, Mr. Pitch. Now, both of you grab your rucksacks while I conjure a bird to lead you to the cabin. It’s…out of the way.”

The rest of the students are in fits, but of course Davy doesn’t notice. He pays attention to nothing and nobody when he thinks he’s in the right. Simon has shouldered his own pack and is staring into the middle distance, refusing to look at anyone. Of course, Natasha Pitch’s son has to get in one last dig: “What’s next, a get-along shirt?”

Basilton’s unimpressed expression is fooling no one—I know blessed well that he’d only love that. “Davy,” I try one last time. “This weekend is supposed to be providing these students with a chance to learn how to get along as a community of mages. Splitting two of them off will deprive them of the chance—”

“Miss Possibelf.” I suppose it’s amusing that after all these years Davy doesn’t dare use my first name. “I know what I’m doing. Boys this age need a firm hand—” How does he not hear the sniggering going on behind him? “—and I’ve had just about enough.” After seven years. Seven years, and he’s had enough? Davy finally acknowledges me enough to turn and lower his voice. “Quite frankly, one of them has nothing to learn about survival, while the other doesn’t need to.” This last part is said in a hushed whisper, even though from the way Basilton’s eyebrow lifts, I’m certain he heard it.

I share his disdain for the sentiment, however, I’m not particularly concerned about his chances—here, or anywhere else. “Fine,” I snap, throwing my hands up. It’s not as though this trip isn’t always an annual excuse for all kinds of unsanctioned…exploration. Simon and Basilton aren’t likely to get up to anything they haven’t already, and I have bigger fish to fry given the amount of alcohol students traditionally smuggle on this fool’s exercise. David Cadwallader can be as blind as he likes, but some of us are left nursing the hangovers.

No pressure holiday tags: @rimeswithpurple, @artsyunderstudy, @cutestkilla, @c0nsumemy5oul, @tender-ministrations, @nausikaaa, @thewholelemon, @orange-peony, @youarenevertooold, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @letraspal, @bookish-bogwitch, @nightimedreamersghost, @aristocratic-otter, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @hushed-chorus, @prettygoododds, @supercutedinosaurs, @shutup-andletme-go, @aceumbrellaheroes, @asocialpessimist, @wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @raenestee , @larkral, @facewithoutheart, @papierhaikuphoto, @cows4247, @stitchy-queerista, @carry-on-big-bang, @imagineacoolusername, @ileadacharmedlife, @confused-bi-queer, @j-nipper-95, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @iamamythologicalcreature, @bazzybelle, @valeffelees

[slytherinshua]

IM SO EXCITED YOU DONT EVEN KNOW!!! AGAIN, CONGRATS!! ITS ALL WELL DESERVED AND IM HAPPY I CAN BE HERE AND WAYXH U GROW BC!!! IR TALENT SHOULD BE APPRECIATED!!

now to the req…. hehehe….. let me tell u how excited i was when i saw you’re taking k-dramas KMG!!!! so obv…

YUL FROM AOS!!! yul my beloved he’s such a cutie patootie– anyways… fluff: 39, 53 and other: 30!! idk i just feel like it suits him!!

MASTER YUL

genre. fluff. master x pupil trope. warnings. kissing. spoilers for aos ig? its not rly set in any particular episode but park jin is still the leader of songrim so i'd say loosely around ep 10-12. pairing. seo yul x fem!reader. wc. 2.1k. a/n. ahhhh axe tysm for requesting smth for yul 😭 our baby 🫶 i kinda got carried away with this and then didn't proof read it so idk how good it is lol but i had fun writing it!!

“Give me one chance. I can hold my own in a fight. I will do anything it takes.” You pleaded, practically begging at the steps of the training centre in Jeongjingak. 

People from low class families, and especially women were never accepted into Songrim Jeongjingak. Everyone in Daeho knew that, and you’d have to be a fool or stupidly brave to try to say otherwise. You were probably both given that you were standing by the doors of the training centre at the moment, your slightly scuffed up clothing and long hair giving you no favours. 

You wanted to blame your father for your current situation, but since he was currently cold in his grave and you respected him too much, you didn’t let your thoughts wander in that direction. 

He had always insisted that you needed to know how to defend yourself, starting at a young age. After years of burdensome training, you started to finally feel the rush and satisfaction of a fight. After years of complaining about the lessons your father taught you, you finally wanted to learn spells. You wanted to use the energy inside your body. You desperately wanted to feel like you were useful, powerful, capable. 

You excelled in all the ladylike areas, from sewing and needlework, to gardening, to singing and dancing thanks to your mother. But they were all just so boring. Your habit of spending your entire day in the public library reading all the books on spells started when you were 14. It only grew over the next few years until your father knew you wanted more than he could offer you.

He wasn’t a highly skilled mage, and in his lifetime had not needed to progress beyond Jipsu, the ability to gather the energy of water. You had mastered that years ago and had progressed to tackling the skill of Ryusu. You tried hard to master it on your own once your father taught you all his lessons, but it was a near impossible task.

You needed a master, but none would accept you as their pupil. After almost every master in the country turned you down for various reasons, you turned to your last option - Songrim.

Face to face with Lord Park, one of the most renowned mages in the capital, and the current leader of Songrim, you held your head high as he refused your pleas.

One look at you had him and the other mages glaring you down and shaking their heads with disapproval. They wouldn’t even give you a chance. Dozens of remarks were thrown at you. You let them pass through one ear and out the other, not letting these men get the chance to see you turn away defeated. You were already risking your pride begging them, but you wouldn’t leave without being able to showcase your skills first. 

“You really think our masters would waste their time and energy on a girl like you with no potential?” One rude young mage sneered, and you bowed your head further, finally feeling your blood boil with rage. You gripped your sword tight enough that your knuckles turned white, resisting the urge to unsheathe it and hold it to his neck. 

I have more potential in my left pinky finger than you or any of your ancestors have had for the past 300 years, you whispered under your breath in spite, making sure it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear it.

You were unaware of a party of mages returning to the training centre at the moment, and the one leading the way seemed to have picked up on what you were mumbling. He stood next to you, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at you.

“Cha Beom is an asshole, but I wouldn’t waste your words on him.”

You glanced to the side, surprised that someone was taking your side. As you looked him over, you were sure you had seen him somewhere before. His face was fair and handsome and his clothes were neat. He looked pristine and well-mannered, but more than anything, he looked like he stuck to the rules. He was probably the last person you pictured sticking up for someone like you. You also thought that the word ‘asshole’ didn’t fit coming from his mouth.

“I’ll spar with her. If she can beat me, let her train here. If she can’t, then I’ll train her myself.” The mage said confidently. Your eyebrows furrowed at his brazenness. Wouldn’t he get reprimanded for speaking such an outlandish thing?

But he didn’t.

You watched as Lord Park sighed and waved the young mage off. An older man, Master Heo, started to protest, but upon Lord Park’s clear disinterest in continuing the situation, he was silenced.

“Do what you wish with her, Yul. Train her yourself.”

The mage smiled at Lord Park and bowed before turning to you, “So, Y/n. Let’s see those skills, hm?”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things.” He remarked.

“Do you really have what it takes to train me? Aren’t you just another mage at Jeongjingak?” You questioned with uncertainty, earning a scoff from the young mage. 

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” He asked in disbelief. 

“Should I?”

He nodded, “Let me explain it. I have always been the top student at Jeongjingak; I mastered all the books, reached Chisu in a short amount of time, and people always come to me when they need help. That is me, Seo Yul.”

“Ah… I see. You’re smarter than you look, then.” You concluded, walking forward.

Yul paused, eyes blinking and head turned to the side in thought, “Is that a compliment for my intelligence or an insult for my looks?” He called out to you, making you turn around again.

“It was meant to be neither, though I suppose you are… decent.”

“Decent?”

“Mm… Your looks aren’t exactly my style, but even I can’t deny that you’re not too bad.” You continued, smile widening every time his face further scrunched in confusion. Teasing him was more fun than you thought.

“Is this how you’re going to treat your new master?” 

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“You’re just very… blunt.”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it, Master Yul.” 

Yul’s eyes widened slightly, the formality of the new name was far from the regular “Young Master Seo” he was used to hearing. Hearing it from you brought him some strange satisfaction and warmth. It was strange.

//

Yul was a hard master to please. More often than not, you felt like he was disappointed with you because he always kept a straight face. He always forced himself to hide his affection for you for fear that it would distract from your training, which frustrated you. You clinged onto the moments where he let his true emotions shine through just a bit. The lingering stares and little smiles— from those small moments you were sure that he was actually a warm person, and not the cold, strict master like he appeared on the outside. You just needed to find a way for him to break the facade. 

Because he was so skilled himself, impressing him only happened once in a blue moon. You tried your best, and improved quickly under his guidance. He would train you rigorously every weekday after his own training at Jeongjingak. Usually you would be by the river, using the rough and difficult terrain to your advantage. It definitely helped with your dexterity and swiftness. After just a few months, you had mastered Ryusu.

The bright smile on Yul’s face when you were finally able to gain energy from the water was one you would never forget. He even laughed a bit, and you swore you were happier about making him happy than progressing in your training.

Your love for teasing Yul never went away. His expressions were just too adorable to make you want to stop, and you felt that they gave him a small break from the pressure he was under as the eldest son of the Seo family. 

You were thinking about all your little habits you had picked up around Yul, when it hit you. How you felt that warm fluttering feeling in your stomach when you saw him smile, and the heat crept onto your cheeks whenever he had to touch your hand to show you a proper placement for a spell. That wasn’t a normal master-pupil thing. You liked him. 

As you packed up your supplies one late night by the river, his perfect face kept flashing in your mind. His cute smile curving on his lips like when you mastered another spell, the subtle curve of his nose, the plush berry colour of his lips, the softness in his eyes. He was truly one of the most pure humans you had ever come into contact with, and your adoration for him only grew everyday. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You scolded yourself under your breath. Now that you were aware that you were in love with him, how much harder would it be to go to training with him? You were sure you were going to be flustered and tripping your own two feet the next time you tried to work on your spells with him.

“Who are you calling stupid?”

You flinched and turned around, seeing Yul sitting in one of the trees by the bank, watching you pack up intently. 

“Myself. Why’re you still here?” You asked, cheeks heating up when he jumped down from the tree smoothly and crouched down next to you to help you pack the rest of your things.

“Because my pupil is still here even though the sun has already set long ago.” He said, a smile playing on his lips but he suppressed it like always. His hand moved to pick up the bottle of medicinal herbs you had to put in your bag and his fingers brushed against yours, your cheeks heating up even more at the action. In a panic, you realised the moon shining down on you was just enough light for Yul to pick up on the colour of your cheeks. You silently cursed him for noticing every little detail about you.

“Wait… Are you blushing?” He asked with uncertainty. You backed away slightly, whispering a hushed “no” and hoping he would drop the subject. You weren’t used to this side of him, and your nerves grew every time his face inched closer to yours. How was he always so calm and collected while able to make you so flustered?

��Let me check your breathing technique, Y/n.” Yul said quietly, hand gently resting on your stomach. You looked up at him with wide eyes, breathing in short fast puffs. You saw his lips stretch into what looked like a smirk. “Your breathing is completely off. What did I tell you about practising it even when you’re not training?”

“I… I’m sorry. I must’ve… forgotten.” You mumbled, mind spinning as you wondered why his hand was still touching you.

“Do I need to remind you more often?” He asked, head tilting as he looked at you fondly. You stayed silent, wide eyes staring into his like he had put you in a trance— as if you were incapable of looking away.

Your eyes moved faster than your brain as they flickered down to his lips for a split second. If your brain was able to make a sound, it would be screaming at you right now. Why the heck would you do that? There was no way Yul wouldn’t catch on to it. You’re screwed.

You couldn’t think or even breathe when you saw him leaning in, eyes blinking closed until his soft lips finally met yours. Your cheeks burned as you kissed him back. You couldn’t think about anything but him - the feeling of having him so close, your hearts racing in sync, him pulling you closer by the waist. Your hands moved on their own, gently carding through the soft hairs at the back of his head until he eventually pulled out, still holding you close.

You caught your breath and calmed your racing heart, whispering a soft, “...Did you just kiss me?”

“Yep.” He smiled. You wondered when he got the power to steal all your confidence.

“Can you… do it again?” 

“I didn’t know you liked it that much.” He smiled, eyes glimmering, moonshine reflecting off his face, "I guess my looks are a bit more than just decent?" He teased as he leaned in once more, pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

[qtkat]

being eric cartman’s babysitter would include…

gender: female she/her (being referred to as a girl, as well)

warnings: use of y/n (I KNOW OKAY)

request: nope

a/n: thank you all so much for the likes and reblogs on my first post! i appreciate more than you’d think haha. these headcanons are set when you’ve been his babysitter for a while now, and are based on actually liking you, since i love the mother/older sister figure and eric dynamic (and also i don’t think there’d be much to write about if eric hated you, other than if it’s an enemies to friends i guess lol). also if you want these type of hcs for any of the others just lmk! also wanted to lyk i was fucking smacked writing this, so if there’s any mistakes tell me and i’ll fix them.

- eric dragging you along with him everywhere

- like genuinely dragging you by the wrist and booking it type

- he’s probably tried to take you to school with him

- the bell rings when you were just done getting ready for school and he’s just standing there like ‘ 😃 ‘

- you’re just staring back at him confused

- after a while he’s like “well, are you gonna put on your jacket?”

- FULLY SERIOUS

- and you’re like “what”

- and he just sighs, head down, pinching his nose, “jesus y/n, just puT THE DAMN COAT ON.” (squealing like a little piggy btw)

- “christ, okay - okay.”

- you have one arm in as you’re dragged down the path leading up to your house

- he forced you to drive and you were honestly so disoriented you just did it

- he marches into school, jaw locked dude 😭😭

- everyone is staring, like mr mackey fully stopped in his tracks but didn’t say anything

- mr garrison is so confused bro 😭

- “eric!”

- “yeees” (aka yiiiis)

- “why did you bring a teenage girl with you to school?!!!??”

- ofc you had to leave, because duh??

- don’t worry too much though, the little gremlin made your exit very dramatic

- full on screaming punching the ground at you slowly back away

- i read once about eric dragging out your name like he does his moms, and he does that here too

- has probably accidentally called you mom once (we don’t talk about that)

- you guys have sleepovers

- it’s actually so cute, whenever you’re set to come to his house he gets so excited

- like he’s so hyper the whole day of the sleepover

- his mother is not to disturb

- you improvise stories about clyde frog for him all night, setting up a theater with the plushie in hand

- now presenting: eric and clyde frog go to space

- .. -or the wild west, taking over the world, etc.

- he always opens up to you so much at these sleepovers

- like just fully starts telling you about how hard he has it without a dad

- has cried in your arms multiple times (we don’t talk about that)

- you were so there during the stick of truth

- you’re like an alchemist or a red mage (or a combination, if they’ll allow that)

- this is how you formally meet the other boys

- they like you, even though they didn’t really talk with you too much

- i think it’s pretty obvious to everyone eric is a jealous person, so he wouldn’t like sharing your attention much (hence you not really talking to the other boys)

- if you ever need to go away for an extended amount of time he will freak

- tries to manipulate you into staying like how he did his mom in the real estate episode

- also you better hope he’s the only kid you’re babysitting

- oh boy if he finds out you’re babysitting, like, butters or something he would throw a fit

- i swear

- so in conclusion you have gained 10 extra bucks an hour and a child making you hang out with him 24/7

- you guys have a sweet relationship