#they pop out and they remind me of an elf's !!!!

[kanmom51]

Spot the differences (again)

*This one has been sitting in my drafts for a while now waiting for me to finalize it. Much water has passed under the bridge since, but I still think it is relevant, maybe even more so now that 'Are you sure?' is about to land and this is the type of rhetoric we will be hearing a lot.

This post is a public service for all those that love to nullify Jikook interactions. Those that ot7-fy them. "JM is such a sweetheart, he loves all his members" or "JM is always so happy to see the other members, remember when..."

So yeah, I actually do remember when. And that is why I decided to bring them here for you to judge.

Let's put these two under a magnifying glass side by side why don't we?

RM joining JM in his birthday live.

JK joining JM in his Docu live

Thanks to cr./@jimimn for their amazing gifs, some of which I will be using here.

Start, why don't you, with JM's initial reaction.

JM literally lights up when he notices JK. He stops the video and calls out his name.

He's not happy.

He is overjoyed.

His face literally lights up.

His whole body is reacting.

He is down right giddy.

That whole body movement when he calls out to Jaykay again. His shoulders literally dancing - that is what I call a little JM happy dance, exclusively for JK.

When RM walks in JM is happy he's there. Happy. Not giddy.

And may I remind you that this is JM's birthday live. So RM is popping in to wish JM happy birthday while he's on live. And as expected JM is happy to see him.

Happy and laughing for a sec and then manages, with ease, to have a full on conversation with RM, setting up a chair for him by his side. Expecting RM to join his live.

Yes, JM set up a seat for RM to sit by his side, all while he shooed JK away telling him to take the chair with him.

Lmao.

JM's first question to JK: "why did you lose so much weight?"

All while not being able to keep his hands to himself and going in for his chestie besties.

From the second JK walked in JM could not keep his eyes off him. It's like we were non existent, and he knew that, he knows that is what happens when JK is around during a live, hence him not having one with JK even though he has been asked to do one by JK multiple times.

And that is exactly the reason why JM told him "you can go now".

JM needed to stay in focus. Watching the documentary and focusing on that and us, the audience watching him watch it.

This isn't a person he didn't want to have around.

This is a person that while around would render JM unable to focus on the documentary and us.

So best he not be there.

Even while watching the documentary when JK wasn't there anymore, even then, when the part with JK recording Letter came up, JM wasn't with us.

We always talk about the JM effect, but when it comes to JM and JK, there is definitley a JK effect to be talked about as well.

So, RM comes in to see JM, and JM gives him a stool to sit on and join him. RM wants to take a pic of JM, and JM tells him to "take a pic of this", which is an AI generated elf JM pic he had on screen and that he was showing us himself just a second earlier as RM just came in.

With RM JM is clearly happy that he joined him. They talk about RM's hair, about having to get a drink together, about JM doing his dance clips. It's a short visit, less than 2 minutes long, and yet they manage to actually form full sentences and have a somewhat meaningful conversation.

And then you have JK's visit, more or less a minute long and all you get is "you've lost too much weight my chestie besties are disappearing" (the second half of the sentence is what he wanted to say, didn't say it out loud but his actions most definitely told us everything, lmao), and "get out of here before I jump your bones", more or less.

Nah, but seriously. They couldn't even have a back and forth conversation. JM shy and unable to talk as JK approached, leaning back for JK to come closer to his mic and JK (for reasons unknown to myself) leaning further down (JK, that's not where the mic is at). JK dumb-founded by JM's weight loss comment and chest fondling, so instead, recovering as quickly as he could, he addresses us. And then JM is "you can go"... going in for a hug and JK is all "I'm sorry".

Now what is he sorry about exactly? Interrupting JM's live? Causing JM to be a total mess (which he totally was)? Or, being a total mess himself (which again, he was as well)?

As JK is leaving he tells JM to have fun with army watching the documentary, and JM again: "hurry up and go" physically helping him to leave.

I have never seen someone who was that excited to see another when they showed up (JM when JK appears) try to get rid of said other as fast and as hard as JM did with JK.

🤣🤣

And yes, JK was saying I love you to army (well, that's what we were supposed to understand), but this was JM as JK was leaving.

Why you so giddy giggly JM?

Is it because you were overjoyed by JK showing up? Was it because you know you malfunctioned? Or was it just because it was JK? Cause that is the effect he has on you.

You know what it brings me back to? The BTB of JM's SMF pt. 2 rehearsals and JK visiting him.

Not only how heavily edited it was but also the fact, and I did mention this in my post at the time, that we didn't get to see them as JK showed up. Unlike other BTBs with other members showing up for JM and us being 'allowed' to see his initial reaction and their greetings, we were robbed of that when it came to JK's visit. I asked why in back then. Rhetorical question. I knew the answer. We basically saw it right here in this live.

And this was RM leaving.

JM happy to see him, smiling as he was leaving, and back to business no fuss no muss, and definitley no lingering smile that he simply could not wipe off his face.

Look, you don't need a Master's degree in psychology or in the science of facial and body expression to see the difference between the two. And JM, well he's well aware of it. He knows that JK has a special effect on him. He knows that with JK around he can get lost in him. And when you have a live camera rolling at the same time, well that is something that he knows could be detrimental to his health, lol. It's about schedules not aligning for them to have a live together. It's about JM knowing that they cannot handle it (it's not just JM, we saw that very well with JK's deer caught in the headlights behavior in that live - man thought he could handle it and I think he found out that simply ain't the case).

So basically, to sum it all up, here is JM in each situation:

JM to RM:

"Hey mate, how you doing? Come, come, sit right next to me, join me in my live. How are things with you? New hair? We need to get together catch up over drinks? Oh, if you're taking a pic, take this one...here look at my screen. Ok, call me to make a date for drinks. See you..."

Not the exact dialogue, but pretty close I'd say, lol.

JM to JK:

"What are you doing here?" Wait. Chestie besties, gotta ask them how they are doing...Shit. Brain malfunction. "Get out of here before I jump your bones. And take that chair with you so there isn't even the slightest chance you sit here next to me, cause there is no way I will manage to continue this live if you stay".

Yep, those words did not pass his lips (barely any did), but his actions spoke volume.

Bottom line brings me right back to the start of my post.

You can't ot7-fy how JM and JK are with each other. You just can't. No matter how hard you try, the way they are with each other is unlike how they are with any other member, which they both love dearly, there is no question about that. Just not the same way that they love each other.

Period.

There is a reason why while dropping promos for "Are you sure?" their "chemistry" is mentioned. There is a reason why people that have seen only the trailer and/or their announcement have raised an eyebrow, the words boyfriends and honeymoon being mentioned (not by Jikookers btw). Because they, those two, their interactions are charged, they are different than with the others. We see it when the others are around as buffers, but we see it so much more when it's just the two of them.

I know that there are those that are waiting for something big to happen in the show, a big revealing scene or what not. I think they are going to be disappointed.

On the other hand there are those that think it's going to be so watered down that what we will be getting is two bros on a trip. I must say that I think they are wrong as well.

Jikook are Jikook. They can't hide what they are to each other. You don't need to see a loving couple making out to know that they are a loving couple. There are so many other tells. And those are things that you can't hide or water down. They are engrained in those two's interactions, facial expressions, tone of voice, and physical interactions or lack thereof as well. All of those can't be watered down or edited out completely. And they know it. Which is why, again, the word "chemistry" was used - they know they can't hide it so they try to give it a name, maybe disguise it a little. All while knowing we can't be fooled. Not really.

So yeah, I keep needing to tell myself this is actually happening. Because this is going to be huge. And it's going to be so much fun and chaotic and happy and just WOW!!

Three weeks to go!!!

And D-1 to Muse!!!

This is going to be friggin' awesome !!!!!!!!!!!!!

[felassan]

Thoughts on the DA:TV Companion Concept Art:

General

I love that we saw these and I think the art is beautiful!! it's so cool seeing different versions of a character, different ideas for a character, and how things translated from concept arts into the character models in the game. I can't waaait to look through the rest of The Art of Dragon Age: The Veilguard, with a fine-toothed comb!!

each character has iconic color palettes and iconic shapes and stuff :)

I feel like there is a lot to examine in these pictures, even with the spoilery text redacted!! 🔍🔍

I'm so extremely curious about what the redacted text says. 👁️

It looks like the geometric patterns drawn behind the characters are slightly different each time?

In the ones where multiple different outfits are shown for the character, do you suppose that these are only discarded concept ideas, or are some similar to some of the alternate outfits for the companions that we can find or upgrade for them in the game?

in some of the pages, there appears to be additional parts of the page blanked out/redacted rather than just the paragraph of text. I wonder if there are small text captions or even additional small drawings in those spaces that also needed to be redacted for spoiler reasons 👁️

In some of the sections below I just described what part of the art I was referring to, in others I popped in images because I was finding it hard to describe what I meant ^^

Also, the associated tweet mentions the BioWare Gear Store-exclusive variant of the artbook. The link in it just takes you to the general Gear Store website landing page at the moment. At the moment, the BioWare Gear Store variant of the artbook is out of stock (it went out of stock really quickly after release). However, CM Violet mentioned in the Discord that "We are planning on another printing [of the Gear Store variant of the art book], but no date yet! I'm sure we'll announce it when we have more news!" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Bellara

Bellara's page is the only one I think with no name. did her name have to be redacted too bc of a spoilery reason?

I LOVE Bellara's pages. she's just so 🥺 (clenching my fist). some aspects of the design of Bellara's clothes remind me of butterflies or butterfly wings.

Left: the angle of this one reminds me of her party icon art. Center: this one shows a different design concept for her vallaslin. in this one she also has different earrings. in the full version of this drawing, it looks like she is holding some kind of tool in her hand (makes sense considering her Tinker ability), while in her other hand it's a piece of cloth, reminding me of the way mechanics are sometimes drawn holding rags during their work. her posture in the full version of this drawing is like 'You can fit sooo many triangles inside this bad boy [the giant elf head artifact/sculpture]'. hhh. Right: can anyone make out what the text above her bag says? ^^ btw, this bag design is so cute. edit: thankyou to @squidaped-oyt who mentioned in the replies of this post that this looks like it says "Foldable map"! more on that here.

HELLO??, this ancient elven sculpture/artifact thing is extremely 👀. the scale of it compared to Bellara is massive. there are beams of light coming from its eyes and the triangle set in its forehead. the triangular parts are a now-familiar aspect of ancient elven magic-tech and artifacts. the nose bridge reminds me of the design of elven nose bridges circa Dragon Age II - only he has a pointed part on his in addition. the bald head we're all familiar with from ancient elven statues, in-world murals/wall paintings etc. is it just me, or are the teeth also pointy? I wonder what this thing is.. was it just decorative (a head of a giant statue)? (this kind of thing in this Veil Jumper/Arlathan Forest concept art comes to mind). was it an art piece representative of a particular Evanuris or one of their chosen? or did it have some kind of actual function - maybe it was part of a giant protective automaton kinda thing? what this head really reminds me of is Codex Entry: Vir Dirthara: Signs of Victory -

The pages of this book—memory?—describe a monument made in a single afternoon by a thousand-thousand toiling servants swarming over a lump of fallen stone as large as a collapsed mountain. By the end of the day, the stern figure of Elgar'nan stares down into a valley, carved out from the foothills of the rock. The slaves have disappeared. Light radiates from the eidolon's narrowed eyes and its open, snarling mouth. "Hail Elgar'nan, first among the gods! Mark his victory eternal!"

Could this be [part of] one of those sorts of monuments/eidolons? It sure looks like it's snarling through its open mouth. And it has narrowed eyes and light is radiating from them.

The other things it reminds me of are: 1. the ancient elven sentinels (the magic-bot kind, not the Abelas and crew in Temple of Mythal kind), two. like maybe it's a giant one of these. 2. these big ancient elven hands and the Dead Hand landmark (see Trivia section) in DA:I, which is found in the Dales and contains an elven shrine and is not far from Ghilan'nain’s Grove.

Horace Medford wrote of that landmark,

"The great stone hand was something of a mystery. One assumes it is a piece broken off from a larger whole. If so, judging by the size of that one hand, I imagine the entire sculpture to be... well, large enough to require the use of obscenities to describe it. Thus I have only one question: where is the rest of the statue? It is difficult to imagine how something so large could go missing."

like maybe the head from Bellara's concept is the giant head to a similar kind of pair of giant hands (of either type).

(^ post which discusses these both here)

Left: the way this bracelet thing is worn gives it the impression of a watch, which is cool and fits her machinist/inventor kinda vibe/aesthetic :) Center: the cloth, a bit dirty from active use (what a thoughtful touch), tucked into her belt :) Right: I love the eyepiece/monocle look!! It's giving Artificer, it's giving gadgets. does anyone else think Bellara and Dagna would get on super well? 💜

These are all super interesting and I love that they were thinking about the different parts of Bellara's kit and belongings like this. in the top row, it looks like the book on the left is the closed version of the book on the right. Bellara's book full of research notes :D what I wouldn't give to browse through it!! I love how she's filled it with different bookmarks, it gives you an insight into her mind and the way it works. on the front is one of those ancient elven golden faces (like on Solas' armor's knees in Trespasser, on the Sentinels in the Temple of Mythal, on the ancient elven Deluxe edition of DA:TV armors, etc). inside, it looks like she has pressed a flower, which is so lovely. on the right-hand page, I'm really curious about the drawings there. what is it of? a map, a diagram? it reminds me a bit of the map of Arlathan Forest in the Veil Jumper issue of Dragon Age: The Missing (and it would make sense for her to have a map, Arlathan Forest is changeable lately). and if you squint, maybe that's an 'X marks the spot'? also extremely curious is the drawing on the left-hand side of the page:

Who is this depicting? the figure's headshape/headpiece/mask reminds me a lot of the Evanuris headshapes. and the general vibe of the drawing reminds me of the ancient elven Evanuris mosaics (example). Sylaise-y? but maybe it's not an Evanuris and it's more like a figure from Bellara's past? the way the flower is pressed on this page makes it look tender, like memory. or if it was an Evanuris, it makes it look like an offering or token. perhaps Bellara's vallaslin correspond to Sylaise or whichever member it is. there was a time before the gods came back the way they did in DA:TV.

It's also really cool to get a look at the fold-out material thing. do you think she usually carries this rolled up at her belt or in her bag? it looks like somewhere where she stores various kinds of ancient elven triangle fragments, or maybe it's even some kind of strange map. A map of a bunch of different reality-fragmented Veil Bubbles or something would look really strange no doubt, not like a normal map.. edit: more on that here.

Davrin

It's neat to see different hairstyle versions of Davrin! the shape of the blue sword reminds me just a lil of Starfang, which is really nice. and we saw Davrin with a griffon-wing shield like there is in these concepts in the character reveal trailer.

Comparisons of the various vallaslin designs he has in his concept arts to the final one in the game. (in some of the concepts, his vallaslin look a bit bluer, which reminds me of his tarot-style art from the party selection screen). though, in the right-most version, it looks more kind of like a circlet, a Samara Mass Effect-type situation instead :)

This on his heel is totally a spur. makes sense, for a Warden that may one day be a griffon-rider like the Grey Wardens of old :') (at least in the sense of visual language, like "spur - riding - horse - griffon").

We see Davrin equipped with an additional dagger/shortsword like this in the warrior gameplay video, albeit not this specific one, if you go by the handles.

He maybe has some stubble here. ^^

In this version of Davrin, it looks like he has a staff. (though, he still has a sword here too). Is it a polearm kinda deal, or was there a time during development when Davrin was a mage? perhaps the elf in this concept art is a version of Davrin? that elf is wielding a staff to fight, and there are some similar aspects in the outfit designs, like the considerable collar.

interestingly, his staff here reminded me of the staff held by the elven figure on the front of the DA Vinyl art. 🤔

^ Looking at that staff-Davrin concept more generally, it's interesting that this version has more overtly Grey Wardenny-parts to his armor compared to his final look, like the griffon symbol on the chestplate and shoulder.

This Davrin holds out his arm, like a falconer. in Dalish culture, the hawk is a sacred animal of the Huntress Andruil.

And this Davrin straight up is a falconer. how cool!! due to image resolution I'm not sure if the darker parts on the raptor are parts of its plumage or accoutrements, but in falconry, the birds sometimes do wear these types of accoutrements. Falconer Davrin Concept reminds me of that one DA:I Dorian concept art where Dorian had a monkey haha. :D the attention to detail in Falconer Davrin is neat too, you can see that on the hawk-perch arm he has a thick extra cover on his arm, due to the sharpness of raptor talons and grip. I really love Falconer Davrin's griffon shoulderplate, and when looking at the more geometric diamond design of his vallaslin here, what struck me was its resemblance to the diamond geometric pattern behind him.

Harding

Harding is the only one on the concept art among the named characters there who is listed as her surname rather than her given name haha. she's just Harding just like Hawke is Hawke, that's just the way it is.

The flower and leaf pattern in the top left is cute, I wonder if it was inspiration for the flower and leaf stitching Harding has on the collar of her casual clothes in the game. In the concept art it looks like the kind of design that you might have on the leatherwork on the front cover of a beautiful leatherbound journal or something. :) In the central picture she's holding and appreciating a blue flower, which is so cute ♡ and which ties to what was said about her loving plants, raising plants, and nature. she has what looks like the Inquisition hairy eyeball symbol on her belt pouch as well as on her knee pads. (;;) the version of her to the left of that shows her with her hair down, in a more pony-tail like sort of style. on that version of her, you can see flower and leaf floral patterns curling up the bottom of her cape. (very pretty).

To the right of the central image, there's a big diagonal blank rectangle of content which has been removed, presumably due to spoiler reasons. Was this also text? It seems like a weird angle to have placed text at. Maybe it's a drawing of an object of some kind being hidden? A different version of her bow perhaps? (this is the case in a few of the companion concept arts btw.)

The tailored coat and pinstripe pants version of her is so cool. :D look at the tails on the back of her coat in that image. dapper. Harding formal wear? :D

of course, the two most !! images from Harding's one are these ones. copying over my thoughts from that post,

Presumably this is to do with Harding’s new magical stoney earthy powers. (In the second image, along with the bow, it looks like half her face, part of her neck and her arm itself is also stone/crystal). The glass-like shiny parts reminds me of quartz or something. :)

I do wonder if (if they are still things in the game) perhaps those two images or the stoney parts of them could also potentially have done with being redacted for spoiler reasons? how I wish the Harding image was higher resolution so we could take a closer look at stone-Harding..! somewhere off in the distance, Varric "haha, you'd be Harding in Hightown" Tethras is like "haha, Harding, you're hard/hardening" hhhh. 💀

In the image with her hood up, the blue veins on the bow remind me of blue lyrium veins. I also wonder, is she holding the stone/crystal bow with her stone/crystal arm, or is the bow simply growing from the arm? does the hard surface of her body when it's like this repel or take less damage owing to its hardness? is this something she might be able to do in gameplay later on as her story (and powers) progress?

it stands to reason that if you can turn other people/things to stone, as she did to some ghouls in the release date reveal trailer, you might also be able to extend this power to yourself. presumably this ability is tied to the Titans, the dwarves as their children, the Stone, maybe a restored (in Harding's case) connection to that, the way dwarves used to be. it also reminds me of how golems are created using live dwarves. Caridin said "It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier." 👀

Btw, speaking of Harding's magical powers, I wonder if Harding dreams at night now..?

Lucanis

it looks like there's a spot on Lucanis' page other than the text at the top that is blanked out/redacted. I wonder what it contained.

part of the geometric designs behind him reminds me of his eyes motif.

some of the alternate outfits for him look really like, majestic. in the one with the manbun, he has big poufy shoulder pieces and huge sleeves.

I wonder if any concept art of clean-shaven Lucanis exists anywhere? ^^ I'm really curious about what he looks like clean-shaven, or without a beard as he was in The Wigmaker Job.

I'm losing my mind at all the different concept ideas for Lucanis' hair, especially the one with the curled forelock and LUCANIS MANBUN omg. but I like his feathery mullet that he has in the game the best. :D

The design and coloring of his sword is just so COOL. The oil-like iridescence, purple-black, is like corvid feathers.

What a lovely sketch, lovely pencilwork. ◕‿◕ his eyebrow is slightly raised and you can see here again that his nose is slightly 'crooked' (perhaps he's broken it in the past?). I love this sort of feature sm in every character that has it.

In this one his eyes are doing the glowing purple thing again. again he is not defeating the possessed/dead/abomination/-somethingelserelatedorsimilar-is-going-on with him allegations. this one has a hood in an Assassin's Creed sorta style and the general vibe is like a ninja. the shoulder pieces look feathery, and the cloak/coat looks like feathered wings or tailfeathers. this piece feels the most "The Demon of Vyrantium" in vibe hh 👁️ And are you guys seeing this?? Here it looks like has claws like Wolverine hh!! :D though he could simply also be holding multiple knives in between his fingers (of the sort you can see at his belt in another concept, I've put that one just below here to show them), or have a bladed gauntlet, etc.

This person coming at you in the night, no wonder the evil Venatori magisters are scared of him :)

Coffee, no doubt :) cool mug shape.

Bird design again on this leg-piece.

Left: a take on the now-iconic Antivan Crow bird-masks. really cool design. here it's giving Batman, it's giving masquerade ball. I really hope we see him wearing a Crow bird mask of this sort at some point during the game!! 🧎🕯️🧎 it's a big missed opportunity if not imo hh. Right: Lighthouse casual-wear, or something very close to it. his vibe in this art is also similar to his vibe in the Lighthouse group shot.

Veilguard symbol on his chest? some of the alternate outfits include a more Veilguardy purple to them, and this one reminds me of how the Veilguard symbol looks for Rook here for example.

Lastly, in this main one, his general shape is sooo triangular. :D and his face/expression here really captures this description of him from Tevinter Nights:

Lucanis stared ahead, focused and intense. He was the kind of man you couldn’t look away from—until he looked at you.

In this one I also get the sense of dark circles under his eyes, which is a trait that in fiction reminds me of coffee-drinkers. ^^

Emmrich

Both staffs in Emmrich's concept art are different to the one we see him with here, but the bigger one on the concept art is close to it.

In this concept it looks like Emmrich has a scar on his chin.

Left: without his jacket on, he looks so svelte. the gold parts on his boots/knees remind me of the gold headpieces fixed to walking dead in the Necropolis. they are also hexagonal in shape, which I've become convinced is part of Nevarra's visual design language (and therefore part of Nevarran architecture, fashion/culture etc. :D he has so many bracelets and rings. Center: he looks so happy here and in the one next to it! these versions of Emmrich seem to lean more to the purple side of his color palette. these ones have a sorta futuristic vibe. you can see some of the tools of his trade at his belt, and it's a different version of his staff. here the skull floats at the top of the staff and burns with green fire, rather than being fixed to the pole of the staff. Right: Emmrich with big hair! quiff-like, and it looks like a large part of it is white rather than gray.

in this alternate outfit he's wearing a work apron with tools of his trade on the front. he's holding a glass flask that is filled with green liquid and billowing green smoke. I wonder if Emmrich is skilled at alchemy? do you think he has a lab, or that his room in the Lighthouse might be filled with stuff like alembics?

Looking again at Emmrich's outfit in these arts - from the back, the back of his coat reminds me of depictions in art and tv/film of the blood eagle?? (if you are sensitive or squeamish to gore and things of that nature, please don't google that!). the lines on the back of his shoulders remind me of musculature. The repeating pieces down the center of the bottom part of his coat reminds me of a spine. and the back of his gold belt-piece from behind straight up looks like a pelvis. the skeleton and body imagery here is an amazing art direction/symbolism for him!! what a bigbrain idea. is that sort of detailing why the design of the front of his coat looks like someone's chest has been opened on an operating table?

also, the long coat reminds me of labcoats. :)

I wonder if the bracelets and things are a Nevarran cultural thing/common fashion in Nevarra, or more of just an Emmrich thing? ^^

lastly his expression in the one on the right is so gentle and kind.

Neve

There are two spots on Neve's page other than the text at the top that are blanked out/redacted. I wonder what they contained.

I love that they tried out differing concept/designs for the look of Neve's leg, and what looks like a stand for it as well. they're all really neat and you can see serpentine aspects in all of them. a person could also have more than one.

this image contains another great reference for Neve's wand-cane thing. here the orb in the middle looks like a big pearl, like from inside a mollusk. the ring around it is definitely evoking the body of a snake coiling.

The concept art contains a blond version of Neve. because of her ice powers, it reminds me a bit of Emma Frost (Marvel). look at that Neve's heeled boot, and the size of her hat!!

I prefer the Neve they decided to go with in the end. ♡♡ ^^

Taash

oh my goooood. breathing in and out rapidly into a paper bag. oh my godd. she looks sooo cool!! I'm posting the whole thing again here just bc omggg.

Most versions of Taash have the green crystal horn. her concept arts show versions with different skin colors. her eyes in some of them look green. I love all her different-version Lord of Fortune / Rivaini gold pieces. in the top-left hand version of her, her bigger shoulder-piece is really cool (the right-hand side one); it could at once be a piece of spiky dragon bone or a piece of a big spiky sea-shell (both ideas work perfectly for her character and background). I've said this before when talking about Taash's design, but I love the parrot-break design of one of her weapons. it's very piratey. in this page, we can see several different versions of the parrot-beak weapon. also, I love all her different facial expressions.

in the right-most Taash concept, the dragon tooth-like pointy bits on her gauntlets look like they're made out of gold, not tooth. her big piratey boots are so cool and they even have a gold coin on them! you can see the spike braided into the end of her ponytail, and in that drawing the dragonscale-looking parts of her iconic armor look even more scaley, owing to the way they graduate from a full covering of scales to a partial covering to not present (in a way that reminds of how on some fantasy arts of things like dragons, there can be softer/less protected areas of their hide with no or less scales, like towards their undersides):

The bottom-left most illustration looks like it might be her iconic armor, only seen from the back, which is good to have a reference of. the design of her sword scabbard is cool, it's like the segmented flat of a dragon or sea-serpent's tail. in that image it also looks like the eye of her parrot-weapon is matched by an eye on the scabbard. something about the designs of her sword and scabbard remind me of weapons like daos. from behind, it also looks like her gauntlets might have thicker armor on one-side, better protection for the upper side of her forearms. the fingers of her gauntlets also look taloned, in a way that reminds me of Fenris.

Okay now let's talk about the concept in the center at the top! this version has longer horns and more spikes in her ponytail, in fact the ponytail here looks like a dragon tail as a result. it reminds me of Flemeth's dragony hair from Dragon Age II onwards. this version also looks like she may have blue-ish facial tattoos, or it could be vitaar. it also looks like she may have a second, smaller set of horns. in this version, the red ropes are cyan-blue instead, and she not only has the spikes/teeth on her gauntlets, but also on her boots (knee 'pad' and the heel, like spurs). in this version, her swords are dragon wing-shaped, which is pretty metal. I can't tell if the triangular piece that hangs down in the center is from the front piece of her clothing or the back piece, but it gives the impression of a dragon tail.

Lastly, the concept in the center at the bottom: here her boots remind me a lot of Dragon Age II Isabela, who is of course, also a piratey type of character from Rivain. the giant axe here is cool, the shape of its blade also evokes the shape of a dragon wing and it looks like the handle might be made of bone. the way she's carrying the axe here reminds me a bit of how Iron Bull carries his weapon in this art piece. the teal and gold color scheme of this piece reminds me of the gold and blue/green of some Ancient Egyptian things, and round her neck it looks like she is wearing a torc.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home: Chapter 2 Part 2

It's Wednesday! Time for another WIP Wednesday. No Ghost!Robin today. I've been focusing more on this fic. I think I'm going to try and start alternating weeks, but there's no set schedule or plan and it's liable to change at a moment's notice.

Fic Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

1.3k words

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Cassie hissed, “What the fuck, Tim!”

“I know!” whispered Tim back. “Danny mentioned home security, but I had no idea it was like that!”

Bart shook his head. “Want help with that kidnapping scheme? I’ll join you on your road to villainy.”

“That’s the problem with Tim,” agreed Conner. “He makes the road to evil look like it’s really the best option. Count me in, too.”

Cassie groaned. “Damn it, you guys are right. I’m in.”

Before Tim could do more than flip them off, Danny was back. “The pop express has returned!”

Cassie was closest to the door and Danny passed over her drink first. Only to freeze as their fingers brushed.

“Oh,” said Danny who looked at their hands then up at Cassie and back to their hands. “Huh.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Cassie and Tim started to get a bad feeling.

Which was only worsened by Danny looking at him with a grin forming on his face. “Sooooo, Tim—”

“No!” Tim shook a finger at him. “You’d better not tell me what I think you’re about to tell me! You’re OP enough! No more!”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You done?”

Tim sighed and decided to just collapse backwards onto Danny’s bed. He stared at the ceiling and waved a hand in the air. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

Danny, apparently, loved making him suffer and continued passing out the drinks without telling him what he discovered. Then the mattress dipped next to him and Danny was above him with a grin that wouldn’t melt butter.

“So, Tii-iim,” Danny sing-songed.

“Daaan-ny,” replied Tim in the same tone.

“Apparently I can sense metas. And aliens. Which is so cool. They feel so different to humans! I knew about my ghost sense, but didn’t realize that applied to other species.”

Tim just sighed and closed his eyes. “Of course you can.”

“Conner!” The mattress shifted again as Danny moved. “You feel like warm sunshine and it’s so cool. Bart, you feel like static. Which… little awkward for me, but it’ll be good. I should try and get over my fear of electricity. Cassie, you also feel like static, but in a totally different way. Can’t explain it any better than that.”

“Why is static a problem?” asked Bart.

At the same time, Tim said, “I’ll add it to the list. And the descriptions.” He cracked one eye open to look at Danny. “Will you promise to stop developing more powers for me?”

Danny laughed and nudged his knee. “No promises.”

Cassie looked between them. “Does this mean you know?” she asked Danny.

“Wonder Girl, right? And Superboy and Impulse?”

Cassie nodded. “And Tim told us about you.”

“My lips are sealed,” Danny promised.

Tim rolled his eyes and pushed himself up. “Just gimme my water and fix my phone.”

“Wow, Tim,” said Cassie. “Rude much?”

“No. Look, you’ve no idea how ridiculously OP Danny is. Almost every week he calls me saying he discovered something else he can do.”

“If you think that was rude,” added Danny with a laugh, “you should’ve seen the things he said to me when I got him killed in Elf Night.”

“Ugh,” Tim feigned annoyance. “Don’t remind me. Honestly, what were you thinking? You were a rogue! Why did you attack the boss head on like a barbarian? We lost weeks of game progress! Weeks, Danny!”

Danny just laughed and threw the water bottle at his face. Tim caught it easily.

“Just give me your phone, Slim-Slam.”

“Slim-Slam?” asked Conner.

“He tried to object to Tim-Tam. I made him regret it.”

Tim shook his head. “This was a mistake. Why the hell did I ever think it’d be a good idea to let you guys meet.” To hopefully get them to change the subject, he shoved his phone in Danny’s direction. “What do you need to do to this anyway?”

“We just need to make it compatible with ectoplasm. There’s enough ambient ecto in Amity that waiting a few weeks allows it to happen naturally, but that’s not an option for you guys. Tuck and I went through, like, fifty devices figuring out the exact quantities and locations to add ectoplasm to force the process without destroying the device. It took us ages, but we figured it out. Now Tuck and I get extra money from the tech geeks in town who don’t want to wait the month or so it usually takes for new devices to start working.”

“Speaking of Tucker, will I be able to meet him? And Sam? You’re meeting my friends, I want to meet yours.”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. I’ll text them to meet us at Nasty Burger in forty minutes.” He sat at his desk and set down Tim’s phone to do so. Then, he opened a drawer and pulled out a set of micropipettes and disposable tips in a variety of sizes along with an empty glass beaker. Then came out an electronics tool kit. Tim had a similar one, though Danny’s looked like it had been obtained piecemeal as nothing matched. Finally, he opened a different drawer and pulled out a vial of a glowing green liquid.

Tim pushed himself off the bed and moved to stand over Danny’s shoulder. His friends joined him.

Bart asked, “So what will you be doing? What’s that green stuff?”

“It’s ectoplasm. The stuff ghosts and their dimension are made of. Ectoplasm is… complicated. This is unshaped ectoplasm, also called pure ectoplasm. A ghost or sentient creature can impose their will on it and make it function in a specific way. Since I’ve died, I have an easier time shaping it than most humans. I’ll send ‘tech’ vibes at it to get it to fuse to the phone more easily and apply carefully determined quantities to the different parts of the phone.”

“‘Tech vibes.’” Tim couldn’t hold back the groan. “It’s like magic. I hate it.”

Cassie bumped her shoulder against his. “You get that from Bruce.”

“Damn right, I do.”

Tim watched as Danny popped out the sim card. “First thing I’ll do is add a hundred microliters to the sim card. Then I’ll take the screen off and get to work on the innards. Do you guys want new batteries, by the way? Tuck’s got a bunch of ecto-batteries. Could have him bring them along when we meet up. You’d never have to charge your phone again.”

“Hell yeah!” said Conner. “Sign me right up.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t hold back the smile. “What do you mean by never have to charge it again?”

“I mean an ecto-battery will power the phone longer than the computer in the phone will last. I’ve switched over all my electronics. Nothing in this house is hooked up to the electricity grid anymore. I haven’t used a wall plug in four months. Not since Tucker and I fixed the batteries my parents designed.”

Tim didn’t like the sound of that. “Two questions. First, if the battery outlasts the phone, how should we dispose of it. And two, more importantly, ‘fixed’? What the hell does that mean?”

Danny had finished with the sim card and discarded the pipette tip in the beaker. Then he set about removing the screen from the phone. “Just bring the phones back to me when you’re done with them. I’ll upgrade your new ones, too. And their designs were liable to explode, overload the device, or bring it to life so it attacked. But Tuck and I took care of all that. Now devices only attack if Technus manages to get through the portal.”

Tim could sense Conner trying to look at him, but he resolutely refused to look away from Danny’s hands. He was removing the cameras and adding more ectoplasm to them, though much less than the sim card needed.

Unable to get Tim’s attention, Conner asked, “Who’s Technus?”

Danny shrugged. “One of my rogues. Tuck thinks he’s the ghost of Nikolai Tesla. He’s interested in controlling all technology and will make himself a giant mechasuit cannibalized from any electronic he can find in, like, a half mile radius. Super annoying.”

---------

Next

So I've decided which episode of the show this will take place during! It's mid season 1, so Jazz knows about Danny but Danny doesn't know she knows. I don't think that contradicts anything I've written (need to reread it), but if it does, no it doesn't. I dunno if most of you know what micropipettes look like, but if there's any interest I can take pics at work tomorrow and post them so you can see what I mean when I talk about the tips and stuff. I meant to do that today and then I didn't.

Tag List

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen, @undead-essence, @xye-chan, @liandrin, @seraphinedemort, @kisatamao, @schalensitzbucket, @caelestisdreamer, @runfromthemedic, @nutcase8691, @channajen, @tonicmii, @ambiguouslyominous, @vythika96, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ironicvixen, @violetfox2, @pickleking8, @mysticalcomputerdetective, @ark12, @mygood-bitch99, @squirrel-wolf

Getting close to the point where I'll have to split the tag list in two! (I'll still add anyone who is interested.)

[lovingtetsurou]

-`｡ cosplay — kuroo tetsurou. ˚ˎ-

cw : smut 1K. established relationship. somewhat pwp. self-indulgent. cosplaying. reader is shorter than kuroo. mentions reader has a slightly foul mouth lol. petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, doll, princess). a/n : kuroo brainrot. word dump. not proofread. i'm just thinking with my pus– idk how or why but this idea just came to me, popped out of nowhere when i saw this cute elf-ish, cottage-core, fairy-core, outfit in a game that i was playing so... enjoy ig bcs i sure did ;) p.s. reader's not cosplaying a particular anime character!

after losing a bet, you now find yourself changing into an elf costume. it was kuroo's idea. it's a cosplay of a character, but you didn't know who it was since you weren't that much familiar with anime like kuroo was. (ironic, isn't it?)

'hmm, not bad.' you thought to yourself as you looked at the mirror and scanned the outfit.

a lilac themed palette. cinderella-like shoes. a short, ruffled dress that emphasized your waist and long, puffy, loose, chiffon sleeves that are fitted on the wrist. an off shoulder top that showed off the collarbones. daisy flowers tightly wrapped around the neck. crystal-like jewelry hung by the ears. and the cherry on top: a ferronnières.

“knock knock. you alright there, baby? you're not chickening out, are you?” your lover spoke at the other side of the door, the smirk evident in his tone. after rolling your eyes and holding back a smile, you took one last look at yourself and decided to show him what he's been waiting for. “hold your horses, will ya? i'm comin' out. and don't you dare laugh or you'll get kicked in the nuts.”

kuroo always found your vulgar language amusing as it contrasted your demure demeanor. he felt nice knowing you could be honest around him without holding back.

you opened the door and took a step back, letting the man in front of you get a better look at you.

beautiful. ethereal. pristine. elegant. pure. chaste. innocent. divine. heavenly. there were countless words to describe you, yet he could only stare. his mind had gone blank at the sight of an angel. his angel.

well, technically, his elf, right now,

“how is it?” you slowly asked, not knowing why you did. maybe it's because you initially thought that this was a dumb idea, but now that you've tried it, it might not be so bad. maybe it's because at the start, you wanted to just play and get a good laugh out of this, but now you actually wanted him to like it.

your fingers started fidgeting with the hem of the dress, avoiding eye contact at all costs, not wanting to feel more embarrassed than you already were.

“this might not be bad y'know. the dress is kinda nice. though i don't know much about the character so i don't know whether it would've been better if i had put on some makeup or not– mmph” before you could even finish your sentence, he snatched your lips with his, delicately cupping your cheek as he kissed you with much fervor, but at the same time, he was gentle and careful.

after he was satisfied, he pulled himself back to admire you once more since the first time, he got carried away and didn't have much time to take you all in. you normally take him all in.

“did you know–” he paused, eyes finally landing back on yours after engraving this image in his memory. “it's my favorite character because it reminded me of you.” he smiled that adoring smile of his that always got you so down bad.

“and why's that?” you tried to hold back a grin as you got ahead of yourself. kuroo chuckled, pinching both of your cheeks with a goofy look on his face. “because they look so innocent but they have the nastiest mouth.” he kids which earns him a playful (but strong, nevertheless) slap on his arm.

“i do not. i just curse, a lot.” you defensively retort.

“oh yeah? we'll see about that. i'd love to watch you eat your words, or in your case, spit it all up.”

kuroo is a man of his words, and he sure doesn't like to back down.

after the hazy happenings, you're now the one getting slapped on your ass. only this time around, it's kuroo's thighs that are smacking your backside with his length sliding in and out of your gaping hole.

your wrists were pinned above your head by tetsurou who's only using one arm to tie you down as his other is busy toying with your mounds, pinching and pulling. his mouth would alternate between sucking on your areolas, making out with you, and leaving bites on your collarbones, neck, earlobe, everywhere his lips could reach.

it felt hotter because he was fucking you with your clothes still on. your bare skin before was now decorated with blooming red and purple love marks.

despite getting all down and dirty, in kuroo's eyes, you still managed to look so magnificent, so angelic. the sounds you make were another case, however. spewing curses, lewd moans, salacious whines, lustful begging; it's a succubus speaking.

“yes? feels so good that you're finally showing your true colors, sweetheart?”

“ohh fuck me— yesyes right there that's the spot! your cock's going so deep inside me it's like your fucking me to heaven— hnng don't stop please, breed me, wreck my insides and reshape it, fill me up with your cum will you? please please—!”

he twitches inside of you from how horny you get that your rambles get so debaucherous.

“fuck. my sweet girl. every damn time, you still take my breath away.” he chuckles, amused, so turned on, and close to his high which was evident from his sloppy movements.

“shit, so close, doll. come with me, yeah? i'll give you all that i have. gonna fill you up to the brim and breed your dirty, little, hole. you'd like that, won't you, princess?”

“oh my god, yesyes i'd like that a lot— hnngah fuck 'm gonna cum so hard on your dick!” your walls pulsated around him, getting tighter and tighter from the pleasure that was threatening to spill. and after just a single flick, everything crumbles apart.

the aftermath was just as fun, especially for kuroo.

“curse a lot my ass.” he weakly laughs, giving you a kiss on your temple as he tries to catch his breath.

you lightly smack his shoulder, body slumping against tetsurou who instinctively pulls you to lay down on his chest, hands automatically brushing your hair to soothe you and calm you down, all the while giving you loving kisses here and there.

“but it's one of the things i love about you, so don't go holding back on me and just curse me endlessly. knew it was your love language from the start.” he chuckles, giving you a longer kiss to shut you up. not that you're complaining.

© lovingtetsurou  — do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or repost my posts anywhere

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | Chapter 7: 12 Grimmault Place

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None this chapter [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Come to the alley behind the Three Broomsticks

─ S.B.

This is the last letter you received from Sirius before the Christmas break. You knew that he couldn't just pick you up from King's Cross Station, with his status as an escapee from Azkaban. Harry gave you a brief one-over about the situation with Sirius, Harry's parents, and a man called Wormtail.

So, that's why you stand behind said pub, snow up to your ankles. A popping sound not far from you is head and you turn your head. 

"Professor Lupin?", you ask surprised, seeing your previous DADA teacher appear from nowhere. 

He smiles softly, putting his hands in his coat pocket, "Just Remus is alright. Or Lupin. I'm no longer your teacher."

You nod, grabbing your suitcase and turn your body fully towards the man. "I assume you're the one who brings me to Sirius?"

Lupin shushes you, looking around for any onlookers. You snap your mouth shut. Lupin holds his arm out for you to take, and you do it unsurely. There is a pull on your navel and gone you are.

Not a moment later, you appear on a doorstep. As you stumble forwards, unsteady on your feet. The door swings open and you fall inside. A yelp escapes your lips and a groan once you land on your face.

Two pairs of arms help you up and steady you on your feet. Embarrassed, you wipe your hair out of your face and look at Sirius.

You've never actually met him, only read his scratchy handwriting. He is pale with his cheeks and eyes slightly sunken into and dark hair that's well trimmed. His suit is big on him and tattoos peak from under his dress shirt. He's exactly like Harry described him.

But you also see the resemblance between you and him. It's in the eyes. You both have the same eyes and look in them.

Sirius is nervous. His hands can't stay still as he sees you take him in. And he can't help to do the same. Your hair is dishevelled, but he notices it looks wild nonetheless. You're dressed in a fluffy sweater and well-tailored coat, mittens adorning your hands.

You're not sure what to say to Sirius. But thankfully you don't have to because Professor Lupin mumbles something about not leaving the house, to the both of you.

"Wait", you call out, turning to the man, "I need to do some Christmas shopping..."

Lupin sighs, pursing his lips before sighing again. "When?"

"I beg you a pardon?"

"When do you want to go shopping? I'll pick you up, bring you to wherever you want to go shopping and I want you back in a certain amount of hours."

You swallow, just understanding the level of discreetness that comes with staying with an escapee. "Wednesday? Two o'clock for four hours?"

Lupin nods and turns around, disappearing with a pop.

"Let me... take you to your room", says Sirius after a moment of silence, the both of you not knowing what to say to each other. 

As you are about to reach for your suitcase, Sirius stops you. "I've got a house elf for that. KREACHER?!" Sirius bellows the name of the poor elf, and you flinch. Sirius notices and visibly looks bad.

You wave him off. "I'm sorry, it's okay... It just reminds me of how Uncle Luce used to treat our previous house elf; Dobby. Kind creature, but skittish thanks to how my family treated him."

Sirius' brows knit as he takes your suitcase himself, leading you up the staircase of the townhouse. "Uncle Luce? You're not talking about Lucious Malfoy, are you?"

You bite your bottom lip, glancing down at the dusty dark green runner on the wooden floor. You don't dare to look up, afraid of what Sirius' expression will be. "Uncle Lucious and Aunt Narcissa Malfoy", you admit in a small voice.

Going up another set of stairs, Sirius hums. "So, you're not Cissy's kid. And there is no way they would take in Andy's. So that means you are..."

He stops a couple steps up from you, turning around to look at you. Truly look at you. And he sees the true resemblance. There are no words needed, you understand what he implicates.

"Why aren't you called Lestrange then?" Sirius is blunt, an abhor for his cousin clearly in his eyes.

You know it's best to lie until you know he is safe to trust. And he won't murder you. Or call someone who will. "Because Rodolphus Lestrange isn't my father. I don't know who it is. Nobody knows, only Bellatrix. And she's locked up."

It's an easy lie. One you've told many, many times. It's a lie that seems to satisfy Sirius. 

He nods and continues his trek up the stairs, you in tow. He stops at a door and opens it. The door creaks and the room behind is dark and dusty. Nobody has lived in this house for a long time. And it shows. Everything is hanging on threads, from the curtains to the cushions on the bed. Mould grows on the ceiling and some floorboards look like they are ready to cave in if you even look at them.

"It's not much, but it's the best room so far", admits Sirius sheepishly.

You turn towards your cousin and smile. "It's great. Thank you. For letting me stay here during Christmas."

Sirius gives you a small smile, "it was no problem. I like the company. I'll leave you alone to it. To unpack and such. Feel free to roam around, no room is off-limits. I only ask you to knock on the doors before entering."

You nod and Sirius takes his leave, disappearing down the creaking staircase.

Closing the door behind you, you throw your suitcase on the bed. A dust cloud pouffes up and you cough. You open the curtains and open the window as wide as it goes, letting the fresh air fill the room.

A large four-poster bed is placed in the middle of the room against the wall, and an ottoman is at the foot of the bed. A desk is under the window with a chair. On the other side of the room, next to the oaken closet, is a reading chair that would have been quite comfortable before the moths have taken over. 

The colours of the room remind you of your dorm: dark, almost black wood and dark green colours. Obviously has House Black been a proud Slytherin family.

After unpacking and somewhat un-dusting the bed, you peek your head outside of the room, listening. The house creaks and groans, as if it breathes. They say a house lives after many generations have stayed in it. 

You're out to find the bathroom, a nifty thing if you have to pee in the night. You do as Sirius has said, and knock on the first door you want to open, waiting for a second or two out of respect, before you open it slowly. Another bedroom. 

After two more doors, you've found the bathroom. It's like the rest of the house; dark, dusty, and mouldy. But the water is running and even some hot wat streams out of the faucet after a minute. So that's good.

Making your way downstairs ─ leaving the exploring to another day ─ you end up in a large formal room with a family tree as wallpaper. Some faces are blacked out, and you trace the spot above Sirius' name.

"My mother did that."

You jump up in the air and turn around to face Sirius with wide eyes, your heart beating in your throat. Sirius says nothing but comes to stand next to you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

"The night I ran away to stay with the Potters, my mother erased me from the family tree. She has done the same to Andy." He points to another burn mark, between your mother and your aunt. Do you have another aunt?

"Why?", is all you ask.

The answer is simple. "Andromeda married a muggle-born."

Your eyes travel around the room, seeing not many blackened portraits. Looking back to Andromeda, you spot your mother. And under her...

"That's me." You reach out and touch your portrait. It's quite nicely done. "Is it enchanted?", you question.

Sirius nods. "One of our ancestors did many, many years ago. We don't even know anymore."

He suddenly straightens his back and turns towards you. "I've made some lunch. Do you want to join me?" Sirius looks unsure.

You smile up at him heartily. "I would love to."

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @dianaswanda @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry

[theology101]

Fabadine Domestic ideas

They're stuck in my head IM SORRY! I'm about 5k words in on my Junior Year fic but its giving me fun ideas I want to talk about so I'm just gonna spitball a few of them

Even though she doesn't need to sleep, Adaine always 'goes to bed' first to remind Fabian to go to sleep. Every single time she ends her trance, she has to crawl her way out of being little spoon

Fabian is an absolute House Husband. Adaine is Oracling/in charge of Fallinel Judicial system, but Fabian never needs to nor wants to work.

Because of this, he's also the primary caretaker of their kids and he has absolutely no spine. Like, worse then Amethar. Adaine is always the bad cop, but she hands over Boggy when the kids are upset so its okay

"Uncle Gorgug" was always the go-to Baby sitter, Riz has too many doohickey's a child could grab

Moggy the Doggy and the Hangman have matching dog beds - Hangman's is bolted into the floor because he forgets to stop being a bike and the tire would send it flying

Hallariel and Gilear live in the Guest House but they will spontaneously leave for months at a time without telling anyone

When she's in town Hallariel always insists on doing 'Grandmama-Mommy-Daughter' experiences that take far, far too long

Telemaine had to make swords for all of his descendants with increasingly elaborate and ridiculous names (And Adaine promised not to laugh, she really did but its SO HARD)

Adaine forsees when he will die and tries to tell him - but at this point, he's an old man and she looks like she's only in her thirties (Outside of Fallinel its normal Elf Rules so she gets a thousand to his 200-300), and he refuses to hear it. Instead promising to live every single day for the rest of his life like it was his last, and that he would spend them grateful for the chance to be with those he loves

Then he comes to the actual event, he dies and the Devil Lady Figueroth of Pride goes "lmao Fabe, get your ass up" and pops him back up young.

[bloodsuckingfiends]

More Than Enough

Summary: Whilst at the Elfsong one evening, Tav runs into someone she would rather forget, and Astarion reminds her that she's more than enough.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Tav

Warnings: a shitty ex who's said some not so nice things to Tav, Astarion attempting to navigate how to handle sensitive/emotional situations

Word Count: 900+

A/N: I know this is such an oddly specific idea, but that's because it's self-indulgent, and I've been thinking about how my ex told me this and it still makes me feel like shit, and I needed comfort lmao. SO, if you've ever been made to feel like an object, this one's for you

It had been a long and arduous day, from locating severed pieces of a clown, to wiping out the steel watch. The party had certainly earned a hot meal, a bath, and a drink. Emphasis on that last one.

Tav stood at the bar waiting for the barkeep to come back around, while Astarion was upstairs finishing bathing, and the rest of the party was tucked away into a corner booth. Tav could feel herself spacing out, the fatigue of the day wearing on her as she stood and leaned against the bar.

"Tav?"

She froze. She knew that voice. She wished she didn't, but she did, and quite frankly, it belonged to one of the last people she wanted to see at the moment.

"Alberich... fancy seeing you here." Tav lies, slowly turning on her heel to face the half-elf.

He hadn't changed... much. His hair is still long and black, albeit a bit frizzy, and his nose still a bit large for his face. She notices the cocky smirk on his face, and wishes she could slap it right off.

"I was just visiting, and was hoping I would see you here." His dark eyes casually sweep down briefly to look at Tav's chest before looking up again, his smirk immediately falling.

Tav felt a gentle hand at the small of her back, and the comforting presence of Astarion at her side. He could tell. He could always tell at this point, when her body language clearly read uncomfortability.

"Hello, my sweet. Who's this, I don't believe we've met before?" Astarion says smoothly after kissing the apple of Tav's cheek and locking eyes with the half-elf before him.

Tav blinked for a moment before introducing the two, "This is Alberich. We were partners for a short while, many moons ago. An Alberich, this is Astarion, my... partner." She leaned a little more into Astarion, taking comfort in how grounding his form felt against hers.

"How lovely it is to meet you." the pale elf drawls, offering a hand to a silent half-elf. Alberich merely nods in response. A rare occurrence in which he decides to be quiet for once.

"Well, I do believe Tav and I must get to bed now. Was a hard day for Tav, being a hero and all that. Not that you would know much about the subject." Astarion gesticulates casually as he speaks. "Have a wonderful evening, Alberich." The vampire gently leads Tav away by the waist towards the tavern's staircase, whilst she threw a half-hearted wave back at the stunned half-elf.

Once the two elves were in their shared room for the night, Astarion closed the door, and Tav began unlacing her corset with shaky fingers. Of course, Astarion's watchful eyes take notice.

"Little love, are you alright?" he asks in a soft manner. He had made his way over to her, resting his chin over her shoulder and wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.

Tav stiffens for a moment before relaxing into his touch, "Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm alright." Her voice sounds a bit distant, her hand letting go of her corset laces, and instead holding over Astarion's own hand to ground herself.

"Tav, I know I'm new to this whole, emotions, thing, but I'm here for you, if you should need to talk." He turns her around in his arms to face her, searching her shifting eyes. She breaks away from his hold to sit on the bed. Astarion follows to sit beside her.

"Everytime I think that I'm over it, he pops back up somehow and reminds me." her long fingers worry over the fabric of her skirt. She looks up to see a slightly bewildered look upon her love's face.

"Oh no! I don't mean like that! I've been over him in that way for a long long time. You've nothing to worry about." She give him a soft smile, taking his hand in her own. "Alberich was my first partner, in every sense. When we first got together, I was hesitant about sex, nervous. Not long into our being together, were intimate, and that was that. That is until a couple of years later." Her eyes meet Astarion's.

"He had casually told me years later, that had I not given it up soon, he would have broken it off with me. That he had thought about it." Tav swallows at the memory, and Astarion soothingly rubs her knuckles. "While I was falling in love with him, all he thought of was how he would leave me if he didn't get to fuck me soon." A muscle ticks in Tav's jaw, anger furrowing her brows. Tears prick at her eyes, and he cups her cheek in his palm.

"Now I'm sure you've been told this far too many times to even count, my dear, but he never deserved you." gently, he thumbs away the tears breaking from her waterline. "You are more than just something to be objectified. You should be cherished, and loved, and I feel honored to be the one that you chose to trust to do so. And I thank you for returning that kindness to me everyday, for showing me that it is possible." She leans forward to cling to him, her nose buried in his neck, arms holding him tight, and despite the feeling on her tears sticking his shirt to his skin, Astarion hugs her back. Holding her close to him like that evening she had hugged him after his confession back at Moonrise Towers.

[blorbologist]

Re-watching Calamity (for ~research~) and this time around Patia has really stood out to me. Of course Cerrit and Laerryn and Zerxes are showstoppers, but I decided to pay more mind to the other three members of the Ring of Brass, and just... Patia Por'co, guys. Patia Por'co.

Patia's relationship to what she knows (and does not know) is, I think, the pure distillation of knowledge is power.

She carries all her knowledge, all of Avalir's knowledge, with her, levitating, all this power at her fingertips. I think that there's something to be said with her about how generational power and knowledge are so often intertwined - children of alumni having easier access to the same academic leg up as their parents, knowing who to know, having the ins and outs of how this works handy. I don't believe any of the other members of the Ring of Brass come from backgrounds like this, and if not it's fitting that the only one that does is the one most tied to knowledge. On top of being an elf to boot, something which must amplify the consolidation of resources throughout the years.

[Shunting the rest under the cut bc oops this got Long]

I think it's interesting, too, how Patia seems extremely adept at navigating the lies and half-truths of Avalir's politics, yet reserves honesty for her friends. If someone lesser than they knows what they shouldn't, she will take that power away from them. On my relisten, I'd forgotten that one of the memories the Ring of Brass analyzes tries to throw Patia under the bus, and how quickly she shows Nidas memories proving that she did as right by him as she could. And the reveal that she and Zerxes tried to bring back Evandrin, and upon the failure she removed the painful memory at his request.

(Mechanically, too; as a wizard, her knowledge literally is her power. That's the wizard thing, baby, and if Laerryn exemplifies a wizard whose INT is intellectual skill/problem-solving, then Patia is probably INT as memory. Streetsmart and booksmart besties. Also revealing herself to goad Dean Hollow into popping back in, only to immediately Sphere her and cause the bitch to get eaten by her own spell? Maybe that's a stretch of my 'knowledge is power' bit, but it's too fucking cool of a moment not to remind you of it.)

The first time she died, it was for knowledge. Touching the Tree of Names, and she never did let it go (would she, if she could have?). When she died - that first time - did she meet the Raven Queen?

Patia's direct tie to quite possibly the second-most knowledgeable being in the Exandrian mythos (behind Ioun, but I'd argue you know a lot to handle fate and death, on top of being a wizard in life) feels very deliberate to me. The Raven Queen, the mage who did what no other could (except Vecna a long-ass time later, and only for like a day or two), was at least a contemporary. Perhaps a teacher, or mentor, or admired idol. And now Patia can't even remember her name.

It's funny how much knowledge was actually taken from Patia, between that name and her parents'. Just as she removed knowledge from others. No matter how powerful you get, even with a protective ring, you are always at the mercy of your predecessors. What they chose to do with knowledge. And what Patia chooses to do, now.

In her last moment alone, she relates this knowledge to selfishness. Her grandfather's decision to make a city fly because he and others could. The Gau Drashari's decision to keep all information about the Tree of Names secret. While I disagree with her a bit, it really rounds out knowledge is power - because it's hoarded, it's made a tool for selfishness and control. And Patia acknowledges it likely always will be selfish, but for now at least she can break this cycle.

She breaks Avalir, the model of it her grandfather holds, and sends the Librarium with all the knowledge she carries to Maya.

(I'll note that Maya probably doesn't know what the orb is or does, so sending the model library is a great way to help get that message across, too, on top of the meaning of the moment.)

When it comes time to send all of Avalir's knowledge away, it's not some mage acquaintance from another city she sends it to. Hells - she doesn't even teleport herself out, with it, to ensure its protection and proper use. She sends it to a child, a teenager, the daughter of her friend. Someone with no power, who will have nothing but her family in the Calamity. I can't quite pin down why she choose Maya. Because a teenager is innocent, uncorrupted by power? Because she wanted to give the family of her friend leverage, knowledge to rebuild, a fighting chance?

There's so much Patia did not live to know. She points it out herself that she never found love, or became a parent, all for the sake of Avalir, for knowledge, for power. To maintain the legacy that preceded her. Excellent DMing on Brennan's part to take the quiet moment, as the sphere is sent to Maya, to then put Patia in the place of a child, one robbed of the knowledge of who her parents even were.

And yet. As she sends all she has ever known away, she still reaches for it. Almost wants it back. Almost.

Her story begins and ends with a wish: happy Replenishment, grandfather. And on that fateful day, in place of the stolen tithe she and Laerryn and Nidas have been shuffling around the city, she gives her life to save the world. and she gives away the knowledge to rebuild it.

And there's nothing else she needs to know.

IDK. I think we should talk about Patia more.

[yeoja-dream]

Intertwined

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: BTS OT7 X Reader 

Genre: Fantasy, Magic, Eventual Smut, Plot, slight slow burn

Characters: Vampire!BTS, Elf!Reader

Content Warning: none 

Word Count: 3.5k

You woke up the following morning to the blaring of your alarm waking you from a restful sleep. Instantly, you are in a bad mood. The post-concert blues were hitting like a truck. How were you meant to go back to regular life after a night like that? 

You pick up your phone, scrolling through work emails. I’ll have the payment for this month’s tuition tonight! The twins will be missing from the 10 am hip-hop intermediate class! Ms. Y/N I really think I’m ready for pointe! You sorted through the usual sort of emails when your eyes landed on a more unusual email. Private lesson request. That’s weird. You muse to yourself, rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes as you open the request, sliding yourself up into a seated position in bed.

“1 adult lesson, style is hip hop and modern…” You mused out loud scrolling through the details. “9 pm is cutting it a little close 1 hour before closing, but it says you’re prepaid so…” You trail off. “Approved!” You announced out loud before hitting the confirm appointment button through the appointment portal. “What was the name anyway?” you scroll back up and snort at the answer. Kim Seokjin? That had to be a joke or a crazy coincidence. Either way, you were definitely going to have to ID this new client. Imagine if it was him - the thought amuses you as you begin your day, preparing for a day of classes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite your initial grumpy start, and perhaps it was the thrill of a mystery client who, you admit you’ve been dreaming about being Jin all day, but the day passes you quicker than you first believed. Not even Roberto in your toddler dance class 1, his endless energy typically giving you an endless headache, broke your stride today. 

You waved the last student out, shutting the door and locking it behind you. Can’t be too careful these days. You reminded yourself. You glanced at your watch, 8:15. Perfect, 45 minutes until Mr. Kim Seokjin walks through my front door. You thought to yourself, bemused. 

Putting aside your delusion, you organized the studio for a private lesson, and most importantly, you could slip into the back and enjoy a light dinner. On your phone, you sighed dramatically as you found yourself flipping through photos from last night. When will I ever get to experience something like that in my lifetime? You whined inwardly, bemoaning your modest finances. Maybe in another life 100 years or so, another group will pop up and you will have saved enough to get the same seats. Maybe. Your daydreaming was interrupted, however, by the unmistakable sound of a locked door trying to be opened. 

Your eyes snap to the time. 8:58 pm. Shit. How could I have let time get away from me like that? You snap up from the paper-cluttered desk and run, as fast as your legs will take you through the studio room and into the reception area. It was the person visible through the glass that stopped you dead in your tracks. 

You blinked once, twice, and rubbed your eyes for good measure. Holy. Shit. HOLY SHIT. THAT WAS KIM SEOKJIN. KIM SEOKJIN IS STANDING OUTSIDE MY STUDIO RIGHT NOW. Amidst your internal, slack-jawed panic, Jin stood just outside, black t-shirt and baggy pants hung off him effortlessly. He held up a phone screen and pointed at it, saying something you couldn’t make out through the glass. 

Let him in you idiot! Your inner voice scolds. I can’t give a dance lesson to Kim Seokjin! I should be asking him for advice! You fired back. Let him in, idiot. She says, firmer this time which is enough to break you out of your stun. 

You walk up to the glass door, and with a trembling hand, undo the latch and swing open the door. 

“Sorry, I had a lesson scheduled for tonight, if now isn’t a good time I could reschedule.” He offers politely. He thinks I forgot.

“No, no come in please!” You said as you opened the door wider for him to slip in. “I didn’t forget it's just uh,” He made eye contact with you “...robberies.” It was all you could finish. 

“Right well, no worries!” He said, his disposition relentlessly sunny despite how badly you were screwing this up. 

“Oh sorry before I take you back,” You start, and again the voice in your throat dies into a timid squeak as you finish your sentence “I just really to see some ID and if you would change your shoes I would really appreciate that you see its just house rules and-” 

“Sure. No problem. Here’s my ID,” he said, handing it fully to you. Can I sit here and change my shoes?” He asked, gesturing to the bench next to the reception desk. 

“That is exactly what it is there for. I will sign you into the system so it won’t change you the no-call no-show fee.” You plopped down at the desk, ID in hand. “Is there a reason why there is a sticker over the numbers?” 

“Oh yeah, I have to show my ID sometimes and all it takes is one person with a good memory and bad intentions to steal my identity. I am sure you understand.” He said, slipping on a pair of clean, white sneakers. 

“Oh wow yeah, I guess that’s true. A lot of weirdos out there, huh?” You asked, sliding the ID back towards him. 

“Tell me about it.” He said, picking up the card. “What do you think, more handsome in real life, right?” He asked with a wink. 

As if reflexively, your eyes rolled before you had the forethought to process how rude it might have appeared. Jin laughed heartily. 

“No sorry! Force of habit!” You said, putting your hands together apologetically. “Of course, you’re more handsome in person!” 

“No no!” He said, still laughing. “It was a funny reaction, genuine.” He added, sliding the card into his wallet. “Shall we?” He asked gesturing to the dance studio. 

“We shall,” you said, leading the way. 

The studio lights had been dimmed, the normally bright, overhead fluorescent lights seemed too sterile for a one-on-one interaction. The rest of the equipment had been put to the sides of the room, leaving it completely vacant with the exception of the worn tape on the floor demarking where students were to stand. 

“So let's start with some stretches.” You said, sitting on the floor in the center of the room. Jin followed your command wordlessly. You turned yourself at an angle to him, feeling immediately more at ease. It was easier to deal with him on your periphery. There was a sensation, one that you had been able to ignore on account of your nerves that had been present, you now observed, since he had first arrived. It felt like blue zaps of electricity buzzing through you, and as you spread your legs, lean forward into a split, and feel the stretch, it clicks. This was the feeling you had at the concert. The electric current, the dizzy, hazy feeling that washed over you when you locked eyes with them, it was coming on stronger and stronger, and it was making you bolder. 

“So,” You began. “Let's start with the basics. What brings you to a random dance studio when your company has plenty of dance teachers and choreographers?” You ask, stretching an arm across your chest. 

Jin mirrored you. “Let’s call it happenstance. Besides, the greatest way to learn is to be taught by many teachers.” 

“Okay, Confucius.” You teased. “What did you want to learn today?” 

“I want to learn whatever it is you are learning.” He said matter-of-factly. 

You snorted. “I doubt you want to learn what I am learning.” 

“Try me.” He said, standing up. 

You followed his lead, standing. “If you insist.” You said with a shrug. From the back wall of the studio, you dragged two chairs to the center of the space, about 5 feet apart. “I have been choreographing a routine using this.” You said gesturing to the chair. 

He knitted his eyebrows together in concern for a moment, before the expression dissolved, as did his resolve. 

“Alright,” He began, “Show me first, so I can get an idea of what it is you are referring to.” 

You walked over to the music player, set a 10-second delay, and walked over into position. As the beat hit, you moved your body with long-practiced poise and grace. The routine was like lovers making love for the first time, slow, explorative, and careful to begin. As the song continues, though, the intensity rises before BANG! The finale. 

You lost yourself in the music, whatever high that crept into your system made you carefree and light. You put your everything into every moment, and as you grinded and body rolled, you never forgot whose eyes were on you. You didn’t shy away. 

As the song finished, you let loose the final, explosive move, a visual orgasm to finish the routine. You let the silence hang for a moment while you caught your breath, without the music, shame began to reach through the haze.

“Well…?” You asked, turning around. You weren’t sure what you expected him to look like, or even how you expected him to react, but as you turned, a dark, hungry, and heady expression sat on Jin’s face. Where before he had been kind, respectful, clinical, even, your heart rate rose and a scarlet blush traveled up your face as you couldn’t help but imagine what he was capable of. “Jin…?” You asked again, taking a step toward him. 

As you do so, he blinks and shakes his head. When he looked at you again, his expression was once again as kind and friendly as it had been before. “Sorry.” He said “Got a little lost in thought there. That was amazing, where did you learn to dance like that?” 

“I’ve been practicing my whole life,” You said. “I’d like to think I came out of my mother’s womb dancing.” You said with a chuckle. 

A slightly uncomfortable silence hung in the air before you cleared your throat to speak again. 

“Did you want to learn however much of that we can in…” you glanced at your watch “20 minutes?” You asked. 

“Oh, sure!” He said. “It looks like fun.” 

You walked over to the media player, setting the song’s tempo slower, and began the process of breaking down the dance, beat by beat. Sure enough, being the professional dancer he is, he is an extremely fast learner, never needing to go over the same part more than 3 or 4 times before he has it memorized. You watched him carefully, allowing yourself to be slightly more critical of him than you might be with a more inexperienced student. 

“This part,” you demonstrated, rolling your body with practiced fluidity, “needs to be sexier, more fluid.” 

“How is this?” He asked, his movements still stiff. 

“Not quite.” You said. “Pardon my French, but pretend you’re… well…” you trailed off. 

“Making love to someone.” He finished for you. 

“Right.” You agreed. 

“How about this?” He asked, a perceivable jerkiness still present. 

“Hm.” You mused to yourself. “I think you aren’t using the right muscles. Give me your hand.” 

He offered his hand to you, wordlessly.

You grabbed his hand, opened his palm up flat, and placed it on your stomach. The physical connection sent a strong zap through your body. Focusing on your breathing, you followed through, allowing him to feel the way your muscles were contracting as you did the movement. His expression was hard, unreadable. 

“So… did you feel that?” You asked pulling his hand away. 

“Yeah… I did,” he said, his voice far away and dry. “I definitely did.” 

“So uh, you try now.” You said, feeling shy. 

He did so without comment, and the visual of which causes something to tighten within you. 

“Yeah, that looks a lot better.” 

“Could you,” he began “Ah, never mind.” he cut himself off. 

“Hm?” You ask “I probably don’t mind so ask away.” 

“No, it sounds kinda pervy.” He said, looking down, ashamed. 

“I don’t, uh…” You stammered, unsure how to process what he just said. Was this guy about to ask me to what, take my clothes off so he can see better?? What the hell?

“Oh god that made it sound really bad.” He blurted. “I just wanted you to feel to make sure I was also using the right muscle groups but that sounded kind of weird sorry!” 

“Oh!” You laughed. “You should have said as much. That’s no problem.” 

You walked closer to him, placing your flat hand on his abdomen. You noticed now, as your hand connected with his body, warm tingling spread through your hand. It felt good, you decided, but the unexpected sensation had you pulling back your arm in shock.

“Sorry. “I got zapped.” You lied.

Placing your hand back on his abdomen, through his t-shirt you could feel the hard, lean muscle. The warm, tingly sensation returned, and you watched and felt, mesmerized, as those hard muscles contracted and relaxed through the roll, resisting the urge to cross your legs to relieve some of the building pressure inside of you. 

The proximity, the connection, it swirls through you and you find yourself transfixed, looking up at him. Your breathing is heavy, the current running through you, the haze swirling through your mind, and the tension and heat that was building in your core, it was almost too much to handle. You blinked up at him, his expression dark and unreadable. He looked down at you too, bringing a hand up, cupping your face gently. He searched your expression for a sign of protest, and when there was none, he dipped his head down, and soft, gentle lips met yours. 

You immediately felt breathless, and everything inside you was screaming, chanting at you to keep going. Maybe it was the dizzy way he made you feel, but this all felt so undeniably right. The kiss deepened, your lips parting to one another as you excitedly and feverishly explored one another’s mouth. He didn’t seem to dare to take the next physically, but you needed him. 

You ran your hands up his body and then around his neck, using the new position to press yourself flush to him. He moved his arms down, wrapping solidly around your waist. He backed you up slowly until your back was against the cool mirror of the studio. He pinned you there, placing his hands on each side of your head, against the glass. His arms flexed and relaxed with heavy practiced, restraint, as it took every fiber of his control not to rip your clothes off, take you, and mark you as his on this studio floor. 

He pulled away, suddenly, taking 3 halting, jerky steps backward. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Wha…?” You ask, dazed and confused. 

“I have to go.” He said, his voice serious and strained. In a flash, he was gone, with the sound of the front door closing behind him the only evidence he was ever really there. 

In the complete silence, the heated haze that filled your mind subsided slowly, and your mind worked in overtime to process the series of events that had just happened to you. An achey feeling blooms in your chest and a different type of heat spreads to your face, embarrassment. What the fuck you thought to yourself, he probably thinks I’m some kind of crazed slut. You allowed yourself to sink to the floor, pulling your knees into your chest tight. What the fuck is his problem anyway, he kissed me first, you reasoned. Maybe I am just a god-awful kisser, you added bitterly. Maybe I took things too far. Maybe I made him uncomfortable. Fuck uncomfortable, he started it! He pinned you against the wall, he absolutely loved it. Two parts of your mine argued back and forth. Whatever the case, sitting in your dim studio feeling bad for yourself didn’t bring you any closer or make you any happier, so you resolved to pick yourself up and bring yourself home. 

You jammed your keys into the keyhole of your front door, unlocking it and entering your quiet apartment in a numb, dissociative daze. If you gave yourself 100,000 guesses this morning to guess as to how your day would end, you still wouldn’t have guessed you’d find yourself in the position you were in. Sleep tonight would be impossible, you decided. You made your way to your bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet, grabbing one of the large, brown, glass bottles inside, shaking it tentatively. The last of the medicine you sighed inwardly, shaking the last two tightly-bundled, pill-sized leaf preparations from the bottle. When the nightmares would keep you awake, Dad would bring you two of these with a glass of warm, cinnamon-spiced apple cider. “These will help you sleep,” He said, handing you the pills. “And this,” he continued, “is full of spices to keep the monsters away.” Handing you the mug of hot, fragrant liquid.

“Like what?” You asked, voice still trembling from crying. 

“Cinnamon.” He told you, climbing into bed next to you. 

“Monsters don’t like cinnamon?” you asked, putting the bitter pills on your tongue, swallowing quickly. 

“Can’t stand it,” Dad said, wrapping an arm around you, holding you close to his side. The contact is comforting. “One sniff of it and they go running for the hills!” 

You giggled at that. “It must suck to be a monster, then.” You decided. 

“Most definitely.” Dad agreed.

The memory was bittersweet. You swallow the bitter preparations, speed through your evening routine, and slip in between your sheets, already feeling the drowsy effects blossom through your body and mind. With the last of your cognition, you grabbed your phone, sending a mass email. You needed a break.

Dear students and families, 

I have come down with something and as such, I will be suspending all classes for tomorrow. The following day, however, classes will return as scheduled. Thank you for your understanding. 

Best, 

Teacher Y/N

You hit send, and allow your eyes to close, sending you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I can’t get through,” Namjoon said, eyes closed, eyebrows knit together with concentration. 

“Should we go up to her place?” Taehyung asked, looking at the older man, concerned. 

“No,” Jin said, voice stern. “We have done plenty.” 

“We?” Jungkook snorted. “Hyung, last time I checked it was you who planted one on her, not us.” 

Jin shot him a dirty look. “If we had sent you, you would have lost control 30 seconds into being there and we would be having a much different conversation right now.” 

Yoongi walked over to Jin, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. “You are completely sure?” Yoongi asked, his tone flat, measured. 

“As I have said 100 times over, yes,” Jin said, pushing down the growing irritation in his voice. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault he had gone too far. The way you looked up at him, the feeling of your hand on his body after he had just touched you, watched you move, he couldn’t help himself. He only hoped now that you felt the same way. 

“She could have taken something and that’s why you can’t reach her, right Namjoon-hung?” Jimin asked, running his fingers absentmindedly through the older’s hair.

“Mmm.” He grunted in affirmation. “She could also have a talisman or a barrier spell preventing me from getting in.” 

“So she’s probably fine,” Jimin said, voice calm.  

“Probably.” Namjoon agreed, sighing and allowing himself to slump fully onto Jimin, looking for comfort. 

“Well,” Hoseok chimed in. “Feeling bad or anxious isn’t particularly productive. Jinnie-hyung took things farther than he intended, but it sounds to me like she was probably okay with it. What probably freaked her out was you up and leaving without so much as an explanation like an antisocial weirdo. That would cause anyone to overthink.” 

“He’s got a point,” Yoongi said, his arms now draped over Jin’s shoulders, holding him in a back hug. 

“I know,” Jin said with a sigh. “If I could go back and do it differently, I would. But don’t you think by blocking us out she probably wants to be left alone?” 

“How would she know Joonie-hyung’s powers?” Jungkook said. An obvious question, perhaps, but a brief silence settles over the group. It is a good point. 

“The way I see it, we tell her or we don’t, and we need to decide which pretty quickly,” Hoseok said. 

“I would want to know if I were her,” Taehyung said. 

“Me too,” The group agreed. 

“So we offer a connection,” Yoongi began. “Contact her, apologize for being a weirdo, offer to meet up and explain some things.” 

Jin flinched at the weirdo comment. “Let her decide,” He said, “It’s not a bad idea.” 

“Then let's do it,” Taehyung said anxiously. “I hope she says yes.” 

“We all do,” Jimin said, grimly. “But now, we wait.” 

[f4riedimples]

Sid x reader watching a Christmas movie?

pairings: Sidney Prescott x f!reader

warnings: none(you were too sweet for smut)

day of naughty or nice inbox: 3

You and survey were sitting on the couch peacefully. She had just gotten home and couldn’t wait to see you.

“hey baby? I’m gonna go get some snacks alright?” She speaks to which you only nod to.

once Sidney got back she gave you a very warm smile. “Ya ready to put on the movie?” You asked politely. In all honesty you hadn’t chosen what to watch. You didn’t ask her either so it would be one crazy ride.

so far you guys had ‘a nightmare before Christmas’, ‘love actually’, ‘the grinch’, ‘a Charlie Brown Christmas’, ‘home alone’ and ‘elf’.

Once you guys had finally picked your movie which had took around an hour, you guys had finally go cozy and got your snacks, got the hot coco and hit chocolate.

everything was set.

in all honesty you and Sidney talked a bit through the movie. Because that made it comfortable and sweet.

it was more than light touches and kisses. It was laughs. It was small jokes. Heartfelt or regular they always got laughs from you both.

being warm under the cover, smelling the snacks, the hot coco, the egg nog. It was nice and sweet just spending time with someone you love.

you both almost wanted to binge every single Christmas movie you both could find because you just never wanted it end.

“you’re so cute” or “I love the way you smile.” Sidney would whisper anytime a sweet scene popped up on screen.

even though it seems cheesy and corny so scenes did make you both nearly laugh and cry. You both watched sweet ones that reminded you both of each other a to be grateful.

“you make me happy.” You tearfully whispered before sniffling as you stared at the screen. The scene reminded you both your love for Sidney.

so she just couldn’t help but place a kiss on your head as tears fall.

“I love you too.”

you guys didn’t bother to watch any horror Christmas movies even though Sidney wouldn’t be upset if you did.

you guys didn’t feel like watching krampus or “better watch out” because you never wanted this moment to end.

you both fell asleep wrapped in each others arms.

[moonjunio]

This was so random, the 1980s ElfQuest board game popped up on Facebook marketplace - in New Zealand with local delivery by hand 🚚😲

I’m a gamer, but I hadn’t had my eye on this fairly rare collectible, since games with great IP are often not all that fun. But you know what? I tried it and had a great time with my teens! No whining, I’m amazed 😂

Full review below…

The even cooler thing is that it’s actually two games in one. The “introductory” version is an abstract tile exploration and clue gathering mission, themed on the Original Quest reuniting the elf tribes with their Palace (actually spaceship, shhh). Play takes an hour, tops.

This strongly reminded me of my favorite board game when I was a kid - Enchanted Forest - because the overall idea is to find the tiles with hidden clues on them, and be the first to guess which one has been set aside at the beginning.

The additional element in ElfQuest is that you have to explore to find the clues, then also find the location of the tile that matches the winning clue. You can’t guess without traveling to the secret location first, and a wrong guess means you lose! There’s definitely strategy in addition to minor memorizing. I think this fits the quest story well.

Each player represents a different tribe, and starts in their home location at one corner (The Holt, Sorrow’s End, Blue Mountain, and the Frozen Mountains). There’s a minor amount of combat in the introductory game, when pawns occupy the same spot.

This is a potential tense moment here, with all three of us gathered next to two clue tiles (the wooden clue tokens are my own replacement parts). But you can easily spend the whole game avoiding confrontation and still win.

Combat just means the attacker must roll an 8 or better on 2D6. The loser is pushed away two spaces. This can be important at the end, because once a player has seen all the clues, others might race towards whatever tile they appear to be targeting as the winning spot.

I was super lucky that the Palace (elf home) was right next to the last clue, because my 15 year old was hot on my heels and willing to risk a 50/50 guess. Go Backs for the win!!

I’m excited to play the full game, for several reasons:

1. You have the option of winning cooperatively or competitively, and this can change during the course of the game. This fits the ElfQuest story much better than pure competition. Games with optional alliances aren't super common.

2. Character cards! Of course the point of having a great IP is to use the wonderful characters and art. The full game has a lot of bonus cards, characters can change groups or be captured, and tribal abilities are asymmetrical (that is to say, your choice of tribe actually matters to gameplay).

3. Way more strategy! One player is the enemy Guttlekraw, who controls the trolls and races to finish a dome around the palace so the elves can't win.

Reviews said this game is complicated, but it really doesn’t look that complicated to me. If you’re not much of a gamer, then sure, but the rules were not very long and easy enough to understand.

Here’s all the components in the box. Only three cardboard counters were missing in mine, easily replaced with spare parts (more on that next time). It even still has the Mayfair Games feedback postcard and the pop out cardboard trash for all the sending star tokens 😜✨🚮

The funniest part is the fold out paper grid... seems unnecessary, but ok.

Essentially what the introductory game teaches you is how exploration works, which is actually mildly educational for younger kids. Each terrain has a different number printed on it, and you only get 14 movement points per turn. So there's a little bit of addition involved. I'd say kids from age 7ish could play independently, depending on whether they're prone to blurt out secret information and intentions :-)

That's all for this time! My kids actually want to play the full game soon, so hopefully it won't be too long until I review the rest. Shade and sweet water until then.

[tieflingfingers]

Foraging for Ripened Fruits

What and who: Soft Dom Astarion smut, Character Study, Half-Drow Bard OC. Summary: Thomasin goes off to forage for a meal for camp, but Astarion pops in to remind her of a bet she lost. Realizing he's rehashing an old promise, she reluctantly agrees in hopes of enjoying his company. Warning/Content: 18+, Reimagining of first sexual encounter. Post bite-scene, part of series. A lot about two elves that are bad at feelings. Partial mentions of past traumas that inform their current actions. Word Count: 4,174 Ao3 Link

Thomasin wandered off the beaten path. Unknown thickets and brambles were an easy trek though. From a young age, the half-elf had been taught a labyrinth of knowledge about living off the land. A library of resources left to collect dust with each decade for she’d become dependent on ship crews and city streets with passing years. Now to only blow off those dusty tomes to reread with fondness.

Although, camp was just thankful she could identify a meal.

There was escapism in placing a floral handkerchief and guidebook in her wicker basket. Buckling her skirt at the waist to watch the length sway at her feet. Perhaps she’d find the same little blue flowers dancing along its hem. Handfuls of berries. Bitter leafy greens. Hidden roots revealing hearty starches to soak in broth. Dirt, crisp and cool, compressed beneath her boots. Patches of grass where plants raised their heads to the sky, bathing in sunlight and twisting at its joints.

Pinched between her thumb and forefinger was a leaf whose colors were difficult to distinguish.

She narrowed her vision and wracked the encyclopedia embedded in her memories.

Poisonous markers found themselves hazier and hazier as the years went on. Rhymes recited to know danger by its features. Whether speckles and lines were meant to be fine. Whether pinks and blues sent you praying at the pews. Or was it yellows at the tips? Spikes and spines? The longer this troubleshooting ran through her filters, the more she felt the urge to laugh. What a thing to have a lapse of judgment on. Poisoning the camp on the off chance their stew was more savory than usual.

Just as absurd stakes set in, the leaf was flicked away from her fingertips. The ball of her foot spun in the dirt, twirling in whimsy to head another direction. Skirt in tow. Light dramatics to match the melody humming from her lips.

That was, until the sight of another in her presence. Astarion had created a habit of startling her for his own entertainment. Knowing the windows of calm and isolation meant her propensity to be skittish. Thomasin scowled, immediate embarrassment melting into frustration.

“In the gods’ names, Astarion! Make your presence known or I’ll start sharpening every shard of wood in our vicinity.” She took a deep breath to calm herself from offering more creative threats.

Astarion couldn’t help but clutch his stomach in self-satisfied laughter. When they approached conflict, Thomasin was no stranger to deescalating those with sharp tongues or unflinching convictions. Her own proclivities for chaos even pulled the group into a few hi-jinks. She always wiggled her way out of things unscathed for the most part, from his short experience.

And so, how could he not take advantage of such a glaring pitfall? A gap exposed in her armor? Only for his own amusement, of course. Each of his steps became looser, bouncing with their weight, partaking in one of his favorite activities. Peacocking.

“Is it not hilarious that you’re more frightened of me than those giant bandits we encountered? Although…” He placed a hand upon his chest. “Maybe it’s a bit of a compliment. Thank you for that. I have felt quite the masculine energy in me with all this newfound freedom.”

Thomasin snickered. “Glowing. Don’t look a day over three hundred years old.”

“Excuse me, it’s not my fault you hop around here like a scared little fawn.”

“Okay, fine. What are you doing out here anyways?”

“It is a curse to simply be, I don’t know. Bored? The woods aren’t as magical as druids like to make a big fuss about. ”

Finding his answer lackluster at best, Thomasin continued to search her surroundings. Like a puppy gnawing at her ankles, he followed her trail, preparing quips to throw over her shoulder. Watching her pluck foreign fruits from mysterious branches. He’d offer an agreeable “hm” and “ah” in half-hearted acknowledgment as she conjured up ways to poison Cazador.

Nothing worth pocketing for later though. Scary flowers? To defeat the reign of vampiric terror? Child’s play. Absolute yawn.

Thomasin turned to be greeted by his eyes wandering about the flora with little thought brewing within. She found his predictability charming.

“You’re not even listening,” she said.

“Bah, nothing but accusatory language. I am immensely interested in what the leaves are up to. Which herbs are the biggest gossips or whatever,” he followed up. Almost too immediately. “I did have something to bring to your attention though.”

“Hm? Another confession? Lycan blood also in your veins?”

“Oh, I’d be unstoppable with Lycan blood in me. Imagine? A dinner of champions– Although I wouldn’t want to spoil my snack.” He inched toward her, keeping just enough distance to offset potential rejections.

Thomasin arched her brow, leaning back and compensating for the closing quarters between them. “Are you going to kill me now?”

”This is a peaceful coup, on my heart, I swear it.” One hand raised, chest puffed and proud. “Consider this a midday snack. Don’t be a sore loser now. A deal is a deal.”

Thomasin slipped into momentary bemusement, attempting to recollect what bet they made. The prize seemed obvious at least. His glances failed at subtlety and she’d catch his eyes dart to the clavicle peeking from her neckline. Not the most bizarre way she’d been objectified, but it still took some getting used to.

It was all uncharted territory. Even if she felt flustered, she had to press it down. Blushing admitted defeat. Docile defeat wasn’t in her vocabulary nor her nature.

He twirled his hand about, gesturing to matters as casual as the weather. “You cannot tell me my winning hand at cards is suddenly incorrect, Thomasin. I love delusion as much as the next man, don’t get me wrong. I mean, Karlach and Wyll could read you the contract as if straight from Avernus itself. Just a light nibble of thy neck.”

Thomasin wanted to retort. Yet, she had been around the campfire those long nights. She was aware of exchanges lightening the load of their gold pouches. The glory of riches on the line. Opportunity to watch Karlach drunkenly arm-wrestle Wyll or Astarion throw daggers at glass bottles with precision. Irresponsible banter around the fire was prime for it. Even if the night was hazy at this point, vague stipulations of a retired magistrate couldn’t be disputed. He was right. She didn’t think her hand was that bad, from what she could recollect, but he was right.

If anything, the length he waited was more of an oddity. The bet went unredeemed for a long while. Weeks even. They had been busy though. Shooing the feistier of goblins and gnolls into early graves, resolving power struggle after power struggle. Hunching over hastily cooked meals and soothing aching muscles in lakes. Perhaps flirtation here and there, but the sweet nothings had been there for comic relief. Cheeky remarks to remind them of normalcy.

“Fine, fine. C’mon,” she said, amused by his persistence.

The half-elf tugged at her skirt, sweeping it into the direction of a cushioned patch of wildflowers and clovers tucked beneath a tree. Her basket slipped from her hands, cradled by clovers.

Astarion grinned at Thomasin, following in suit, pinching at the bow helping fasten her skirt to her waist. He studied her shape like many times before. Quietly, but nevertheless. The drapery of her blouse and how it tucked in along the small of her back. Her sleeves pushed up to her forearm, billowing fabric tapered, cuffed, and buttoned.

She flicked her view up from her under her lashes. The stitches of her linens had folded into themselves to reveal her shoulder, her fingertips pressing into her clavicle as if she’d gather more answers from touch alone. She was a peach, carefully cut into slivers for his enjoyment. To drip and glisten down his palms. To sticky the already unspoken laws of the platonic.

“I caught you staring earlier. I-Would that hurt more? My shoulder?” Thomasin glanced down at the grass for a split second to consider her options, meeting him again with a quick answer. “Actually, that’s a lot more hidden than the neck.”

It’d been ages since one of Astarion’s conquests felt like less of a chore.

He was quick to slip into his role. Rehearsed as often as a shopkeeper stocked their wares, he turned on the “pursuer”. Sexual conquests and their success were a promise of relief. As much as he would never admit, he had dug into his filing cabinet of archetypes he’d approach. Whether she was a romantic, a bookish sort, or looking for sexual wanderlust. The complexities mixed with their constant travels made for rocky waters though. Talking alone wasn’t going to work.

This made him toss and turn at night. Feeling like the ground could crack under his cot every reverie and swallow him up. A man not suited for more than being hung up like a rug, heavy with dust, to be beaten and displayed as usual. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Perfect,” he finally spoke up.

Astarion gingerly pulled her wrist in to close distance once again. The chimes of nervous giggling made his ears twitch. As if it ignited something ingrained deep in the recesses of his mind. Was it an internal monstrous instinct? Was it a matter of preying on vulnerability? The promise of a quick and easy night in most circumstances. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, it was a positive emotion he couldn’t distinguish yet. No matter how benign.

He scouted out the landscape of her skin, although it wasn’t long before he noticed how quick her breathing was picking up. Despite her best efforts, his sense of hearing betrayed her act. The cold touch of his hand slid up under her jaw to guide her attention to him. “Your heart is beating out of your chest.” He asked, his words quiet but tentative for her response. “Does this frighten you? Shall we not keep going?”

Thomasin couldn’t answer with honesty. The anticipation of stinging pain brought forth memories of their last exchange. As much as mild affection was as sought after as a hot meal, she couldn’t deny the way his last bite felt. The half-elf bounced between its warm embrace and its cold isolated depths.

“Oh? Maybe a little…I don’t know. Go slow. Remember how Karlach said she’d throw you to the goblins if you accidentally kill me,” she said, downplaying her racing thoughts.

She knew to keep her wits about her. A woman grandfathered into the art of being a commodity. Her hands had been adroit at distraction en masse or individual consort. Easier dealt with when jaws slackened. Those equally alert, still capable of negotiating. Those were the ones to take with caution.

Astarion debated his next course of action. The consequences of a plan diverged gnawed at him, but luck had been on his side. Divine intervention that he might be able to leech off one more day. He forced himself to commit to the move, nestled in the crook of her neck planting his lips upon her skin. A kiss. Tender and hesitant. He could feel her process the change, an inkling of a whimper escaping her.

Another, applying slight pressure this time. A pause to gauge her reaction and then another. The affection felt like a physical weight lifting from his shoulders, clicking something in his brain. Until his sleeve was strained by her grip, sudden and uncertain. He glanced up at her, suppressing the urge to express his fear. That be may have muddied the waters of what ethics were left in him. That he may have read her body language wrong and he was still swimming rigid circles in an overwhelming ocean.

”Thomasin. Use your words,” he said, rising to meet her gaze again.

She let the silence linger, not knowing exactly what would be the best answer. What would be the most appropriate. And so, in times of high stress, Thomasin did what she knew best. Impulsivity was at least one answer.

Thomasin reached out for the nape of his neck. Sometimes giving into the soma, rich in delights and vices, was the only means of relief. The corporeal body hungered for finger foods and bite-sized delicacies. To imprint oneself into another’s skin. To find solace in desire.

Before she realized, they met in a kiss.

The half-elf’s cheeks felt the buzz of his laughter against her lips. One of the few displays of pure joy she had ever witnessed, not born from slaughter or rightful revenge. She could feel him relax for only that brief instant. Rare was a chance to enjoy sins without the looming threat of vampiric lords, and so Astarion had latched on. Twisting and shifting, subtle yet effective at slipping into the lead. His hands veered off course, groping at every curve, tender flesh hidden away under thin linens. Grumbles and mumbles. He exchanged his thanks for her body heat and traced along her thighs in their clumsy shuffle. Finding the hem of her skirt was only half the battle. The urge to toss her into the grass felt like a warm haze throughout his skull. Never let yourself sink too deep though. Always have one foot in the door of composure.

Thomasin tilted her hips forward out of instinct. Fidgeting against greedy hands and the covetous cursed pressed up against her undergarments. He had crept his way to the delicate floral embroidery lining her underwear. Whose stitching was preyed upon by his touch. Pulling the cloth aside to slip digits right against her clit, he felt her grasp around his arms for support.

Their foreheads were mere inches apart, exchanging inaudible but palpable tension. One couldn’t avert their focus from the other. But why would they? He was reveling in his victories, the way he locked her into a vulnerable position, finding himself enraptured by the noises that left her lungs. A surrender in her panting.

“You should have told me it would be this easy to break you down,” Astarion teased.

The satisfaction from any inkling of power was powerful in itself. His mind, clear and direct, whilst hers wavered. Thomasin welcomed alleviation though. She would strike down his ego with the fearsome sword blow of one thousand men another day. A safety net was being created in ribbon. The same tied precisely at the ends of her braids, flowing wherever their rhythm took them. What a strange feeling that welled up in his chest. Over a woman he could compare to thousands of others he slept with before. Surely, if he tried. She was half-elven of no noble blood.

Perhaps it was the promise of a bloodletting. A high he continued to chase after their last exchange weeks prior. Regardless, his eyelids grew heavy. That was, until he felt a tug at his waistband. Between the two, she had begun to untie his trousers, earning some pause.

”Now, now, hey.” Astarion’s words would've sounded casual if there weren’t for the tinge of concern in its abruptness.

His fingers slipped from her thighs, index and middle sneaking their way to her mouth. An act of indecency graced upon her tongue. Although Thomasin had not a single hesitation. Her own jaw had slackened. Her own mind clouded by the undivided attention. Sampling the fruits of his labor, attentive to his next move.

“You get distracted far too easily, darling,” he managed, despite his own voice at the edge of devolving, betraying him with his own lust. “All you need to do is tell me when you’ve had your fill. Until then, I’ll have mine.”

His eyes dialed in like daggers to the plum-stained lips wrapping around his fingers. The thought of succumbing now screamed at every aspect of his being and enveloped his loins. He blinked the interference away, a string of her saliva ever so delicate in the way it clung and snapped upon his exit.

He followed Thomasin's quiet desperation. One that spoke up in a whimper as his knuckles found themselves tucked under her jaw once more. The pressure was light, but firm, wrapping around her neck and bracing her against the tree. Just enough give to allow her shallow breaths.

”Would you like to lift your skirt for me?”

Light glinted off her cheekbones as she smiled, struggling to remember the last time she felt such an intensity coloring her cheeks. Her posture wobbled and waned, but the weight of the realms were no longer her responsibility. Fistfuls of linens were balled up in her palms as asked of her. Simple instructions. She clutched them against her chest, bare and adorned in the same blush.

Her compliance meant he was onto the next act. With a great thud, Astarion planted his boot upon one of the many hearty roots growing from the oak. Thick and sturdy, weaving throughout the soil. Using his now elevated knee, he positioned her for leverage. Her freckled thigh to be placed atop his and help widen her hips.

“How could you have traveled all these years? Met so many people, played so many silly little games, and yet you’re so bad at cards.” Astarion’s snuck back into her waistband once more, interrupting the scoff Thomasin let out by her heavy breath. “All those folks out there? Falling for your feminine wiles, no? Letting you win?”

Without warning, Thomasin felt the undeniable pressure of his fingers inside of her. He had positioned his feet in a firm stable stance and balanced her body with the weight of his own, pumping into her at a steady pace. She was locked in place, but couldn’t fathom a complaint.

Time lingered. Her legs began to tremble. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“Or are you losing bets on purpose?” he said. “It sounds like you should take your own advice. What was it you told me? ‘Watch out for men with sharp tongues and charming dispositions.’ But, alas, you’re not a woman of your word.”

He leaned in, quickening his pace. Such feverish passion that even Thomasin had to continuously acclimate to whatever he decided was her next venture. One of the bundles of her skirt fell and draped the two, her free hand opting to grab onto the back of his head instead. Her rings intertwined with his curls in aimless desperation. A gesture that made him let go of the powerplay upon her neck and join in the embrace.

“A sound that could lure a million sailors to their deaths. I could listen to you whine for centuries,” he purred, keeping the half-elf at bay whilst refusing any mercy. His name stretched its syllables from her lips, thick like honey. Urgent and stifled, yet strung out like another composition. It made Elvish infiltrate his vocabulary. Internal needs even he had never been allowed to unpack. “Hinual sreea, tell me. Your body belongs to me.”

Thomasin cracked a smile through her fatigued disposition, throwing her head back and fighting the urge to shout every Drow profanity she knew. “It’s yours— by sweet Eilistraeens. My body is yours. In the name raggath, please.” Thoughts consumed by the curl his knuckles and each stroke punctuating the last.

Little was left to upkeep in his performance. He had dissolved Thomasin’s intuition and judgment, free to shed his own anxieties. That was, until he realized what he was having trouble steering his own motives. Astarion simply watched her in a sort of awe. The way her body writhed. Scarred, freckled, silver tinted skin glistening from exhaustion. There was beauty in the crass and resilient. Something breathtaking. Like unattainable dusky silk, admired through storefront windows, awaiting to be torn into.

Needle-point teeth dug their way into her shoulder. Scraping under epidermis and into her veins, Astarion indulged, zeal twisting itself around her like ropes of sprawling ivy. Nothing more than waves of confusing ecstasy and questionable faith for the two. No god or goddesses in existence, only the light headed leap of faith toward her orgasm. Eilistraeens would want this, surely.

Before Thomasin could figure out his next move, she was riding every wave that crashed. It made her gasp. An audible panic as the puncture startled her. But the emotions were quick to mellow, pain much more manageable this time around. The intensity of blood purging seemed to be dampened by its coinciding pleasure. As if each corresponding sense knocked into one another, overlapping and tripping over themselves.

From the corner of his eye, he watched streams of blood spill down her shoulder, pooling where their bodies met and settling on her chest. “Decadent little thing,” he whispered in Elvish, as if the comment were more of an internal monologue leaking out. If fate would allow it, if the stars aligned, he would’ve kept going for eons. Dinner and a show. Her body lent an intoxication that made colors brighter. Sounds enticing, words processed as if eternally wading through molasses. Her yelping in pain and its subsequent laughter of thanks. The way her thighs tried to cling upon one another as his fingers buried deeper inside.

The conflicting sensations pummeled her nerves, shocking through her limbs in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Every movement became involuntary and overstimulated.

“Astarion, please. Enough, enough, enough!” She couldn’t help but choke out each word.

Astarion swallowed the last of his meal, licking his plate clean in such a primitive manner. Being fed after fasting for ages unlocked a rudimentary part of his brain. The elf swallowed hard, lips stained with the taste of copper, a thin red veil coating his mouth. Per her request, he gave her mercy from his selfish play. The bombardment simmered into a kiss to exchange their spoils within a sloppy rhythm. The direction of his mind seemed to have pivoted. Now his body couldn’t get close enough to hers, as much as he tried.

The inside of her eyelids shone a red velvet curtain. A shade not unlike the almost blackened hue of blood trailing down her chest. Catching shimmers of its highlights and plush, as if lit by bulbs of light in her mind’s eye. Enveloping everything until she was enraptured by pure endorphins. Cushioning the blow of her feelings until there was nothing more but pleasant horizons and hands to hold. Coziness in the desire of being wanted and the ephemeral homestead created for a bit. Until Astarion tore back the curtains.

Her eyes shot open. Reality rapid in its arrival and sunshine forcing her pupils to re-adjust. Thomasin fell victim to gravity’s disposal. Her body was propped up languid against tree bark. Its surface skid along her flesh until she could lower just enough to ease herself atop a bulbous protruding root.

The conclusion wasn't her untimely demise. Astarion wasn’t dragging her off to the guillotine, but that meant there was a different ending to this. He hadn’t thought that part through. The elf had thrown himself backward shortly after her pleas, taking enough steps away to collect his thoughts, chest heaving with the pulse of vitality coursing through him. Enough to power him into an entire night of mania if he wasn’t careful. With his back to her for these few brief seconds, he could think. His hand ran through his hair, dislodging tangles in the midst of his now disheveled facade.

“Are you okay?” Thomasin eventually said.

Her voice made his ears perk up. The question grounded him, the material realm known for being all too punctual. He palmed his mouth to wipe away any lingering blood and tucked his shirt back into his trousers posthaste. What little grooming he could conjure up before turning around. He grinned back at her, toothy and elated. Polar opposite to the disorientation on his expression not a second before.

“You think something is wrong after that performance?” He promptly gave two claps. “Would be offensive to not applaud.”

Despite his avoidance and fidgety demeanor, Thomasin decided to not pry. Her own knees were buckled. Emotion scrambled. What words she had uttered would be her own to contend with later, she proposed and shoved aside.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” she said, humoring him as she buttoned her blouse back up.

Astarion scoffed. “Gods, no. As if your gambling woes are going to become my problem. Encouraging your bad decisions is far more fun.”

Thomasin laughed, weakened by all their efforts, and proceeded to unhinge her jaw to speak. By the time she made a noise, she noticed he was already starting to walk back up the trail.

“Wait, you don’t want–”

“Nothing you’re going to dig up here is of my tastes, love! Still, grand efforts!” he cheered, volume rising as he went further and further along. “Dig up an old bottle of vintage and maybe I’ll bite my tongue! Good luck!”

And like that, she let him leave uninterrupted, rolling her head back and letting out a deep sigh.

[busy-baker]

Augustarion Day 1 Prompt - Strawberry 🍓

I know I’m a day late. Work with me here

Strawberry Wine…Read of Ao3

This was inspired by the song Strawberry Wine by Deana Carter and features teenage Astarion.

Word Count: 2.9k

Astarion x OMC

No warnings, just fluff

The grass along the slope of the small hill Astarion relaxed on undulated in the summer breeze. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up as he trekked up to his little hideaway under a large oak tree, a journal in one hand and seasonal flavor of wine. He only partook in this luxury once per year, when the mood struck during the heat wave of Flamerule and reminded him of a time only over a decade before.

~

The high elf tucked his books under his arm as he strolled on the outskirts of the city. He knew his parents weren’t fond of him wandering too far off, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It’s not as if he was causing trouble. He only wanted to find solace in the stories he held and preferred the quiet comforts of the warm, summer day instead of the stuffiness of his bedroom.

His travels brought him to a farm alongside the beaten dirt road. The plants flourished from the previous day’s rainfall and the grapevines that acted as a makeshift fence were thriving with ripe grapes ready for picking.

Astarion glanced around before reaching forward and plucking one to pop into his mouth. He sighed in satisfaction at the sweetness.

“If you want a small basket, you only need to ask,” a voice called from further up the road.

The elf turned to see a young man, not much older than himself, smiling at him. He was tanned from spending hours in the blistering sun and had chin length blonde hair. As he came closer, Astarion could see his eyes were deep blue, a blue resembling the furthest depths of the river.

“I-I-I only saw them…and I th-thought they looked delicious. I’m terribly…”

Astarion’s words drifted away as the man tucked his hand into the hem of his shirt and brought it up to wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead. The elf’s eyes fell to the toned stomach that was hidden beneath the clothing. His cheeks bursted with color and grew hot.

“I, um, I should go,” Astarion said, averting his eyes. “I’m attempting to find a nice reading spot where no one can search for me. Hopefully for more than an hour.”

“A reading spot? Out here?” The human was still swiping at his face and Astarion shrugged at the question. He really wished the young man would quit what he was doing and toss down his shirt. It was very distracting.

“Well, there’s a nice patch in the sunflowers over there. Feel free to use it if you don’t mind a little dried dirt. You can come by as often as you’d like if you share one of your books.”

The elf was surprised by the kindness offered to him. He brought the books forward and glanced at the titles. He grabbed the one from the bottom of the stack and thrusted it forward.

“Here, take this one,” he said. “I’ve read it before. It’s a favorite.”

The story was turned over and pages were flicked through. The human raised a brow. “Aren’t you a bit young for this?”

“I’m seventeen! I’m hardly a child at this point and very studied!”

“Apologies! You just appear younger than you are.” The stranger extended his hand and Astarion took it reluctantly. “I’m Toren. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Astarion.”

Toren’s teeth shone brightly as he grinned. “Astarion,” he repeated. He released the high elf’s hand and waved for him. “Come on. I’ll show you that spot.”

The empty patch was in the middle of a small field of sunflowers. The towering plants surrounded the area forming a canopy of sorts as they bent over the barren circle. The wind barely crept through the stems but the shade provided some relief.

It wasn’t the ideal location for Astarion but it was hidden away and it was free. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, so he gratefully accepted the deal, removing his vest, fanning it onto the ground and plopping himself down onto his makeshift seat. He immediately opened a book and began to read.

Toren laughed at the elf, unbothered by his presence. “I’ll be around if you need me,” he told Astarion. He waited for acknowledgement, which was received in the form of a quick hum and a shooing motion, before wandering off through the flowers.

Astarion was completely lost in his new book. He was disgusted by the villain and their pathetic schemes. He didn’t understand how someone could be so utterly stupid and still strive for ruling over everyone. They could at least be a little less camp and it would be believable.

The sun coasted over and was settling on the other side as the day passed into evening. There were several chapters left but Astarion didn’t want to leave himself on a cliffhanger. His mother may wonder where he is, but she never worried too much about her darling boy. He would always return home to them.

A basket was slung over his book, dangling from a weathered finger. His brows furrowed and he looked up to see Toren. He was changed into a fresh set of clothing and his hair was not as unkempt as when they had met.

“Hungry?” He asked.

“A little,” Astarion answered. He should be on his way home for dinner, but the basket contained the grapes from the vine, bread so fresh he could feel its warmth, and a bottle of something unknown to him. There was also the book he had lent to Toren with a jagged piece of parchment as a bookmark.

Toren placed the woven basket beside Astarion and splayed out a blanket that had been tucked under his arm. He took a seat and starting grabbing two goblets from under the food. He noticed the high elf staring and patted the blanket.

“I don’t bite,” he said. He uncorked the bottle while Astarion shifted from his vest to the blanket and poured the pink liquid into the goblets. He handed one to Astarion and proceeded to swirl the goblet and sniff its contents. Astarion did the same and then tilted it towards his lips. It was sweet while also the slightest bit tart. It went down smooth and was perfect for a picnic.

“What is this?” Astarion gulped down half of the beverage, not realizing how thirsty he had been.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Toren warned, pushing the goblet down as Astarion raised it once again. “It’s strawberry wine. My grandfather wanted to try something new. Sweet and will knock you down after a few bottles. What do you think?”

Astarion felt foolish. Of course it was wine. He could tell now by the hint of burn it left in his throat. He hadn’t had many glasses of alcohol in his life, not because he was regarded as a child being only a teenager, but he had never found one he particularly liked. They were all too dry or tasted of medicine or made his teeth ache from the amount of sugar. This one though, this one was different.

“It’s acceptable, I suppose,” he replied, refraining from finishing the drink and taking a small sip.

“You aren’t much of a talker, are you?”

“Not when the questions are endless.”

“Well, what about when they’re about this book you seem to enjoy so much?”

Astarion perked up at this question. He would take any opportunity to have a discussion over the well worn book. It was full of drama, mystery, and heartache with a fantastic ending that put others to shame.

The two delved into a conversation. Toren would ask questions while Astarion answered, giving him his input and different theories for why the author explained things the way they did. He tried to prevent himself from spoiling the plot and Toren could see it was causing him frustration, but the elf promised to not give anything away.

An hour had passed and somehow they had shifted from the book into speaking about themselves.

Astarion explained he was from the Upper City. A noble who should be focusing more on his schooling than living in a fantasy world. His father was always pestering him about doing better, but he didn’t understand the fun of being bored all day.

When it was his turn, Toren said of how he came to work with his grandfather while on a break from his own studies. Astarion was surprised to find out he was only nineteen, but was already highly regarded in his work with agriculture, finding the most efficient way to produce crops and increase output to sellers. He had returned to the farm to help his aging grandfather and test out his new findings while also developing the new wine for them to sell at markets.

“So a plant whisperer?” Astarion asked, chewing on the last bite of bread.

Toren chuckled. “You could say that, but much more tedious.”

Astarion glanced up at the sky and noticed it was beginning to turn orange. He cursed to himself and started gathering his belongings in one arm. He bent down and picked up his goblet, finishing the wine and placed it back down.

“I have to go,” he said, already starting to leave. “But I can come back, right?”

“Yes, of course. Whenever you’d like. Don’t bother even asking, just walk in and the blanket will be in the barn.”

“Thank you!” The elf called and ran out of the field with a beaming smile. He already looked forward to when he could return.

__________________________________

It had been a few days, but once he had finished listening to a lecture from his father, Astarion gathered a new set of books and took off towards the farm. He had picked a new story from his collection that he was sure Toren would enjoy since he had liked the other. He was eager to hear the human’s thoughts on the remainder of the book.

The elf pushed through the gate and his breath caught as he caught site of a shirtless Toren crouched over a plant and examining its leaves. Toren must have felt the green eyes boring into him because he looked up. He gave a friendly wave and Astarion blinked, waving back woodenly. He pointed towards the sunflowers and Toren nodded, holding up a finger to signal he would be there soon.

Astarion remembered to grab the blanket, shaking stray hay from it, and meandered through the wall of sunflowers to his patch of happiness.

It wasn’t long before Toren had joined him. They read silently for some time before diving into conversation just as they had last time, enjoying more of the wine and snacks Toren had packed.

Astarion was correct in his assumption that Toren would enjoy the book that he had chosen. He was overcome with joy to have someone he could share his thoughts with, someone who took into consideration what he had to say while also not afraid to banter back and forth with him. It had been a long time since he had this much fun.

This ritual carried on until the season began to change. The days became shorter, leaves turned from green into beautiful hues of red and orange, and the wind grew colder.

When Astarion had arrived later than usual, he found Toren already in their spot. He had brought an extra blanket and a lantern for when the darkness would eventually surround them. The strawberry wine had already been poured and he was lying back against a folded sweater, nearly finished with his book.

“I see you’ve beat me here,” Astarion said, settling onto the blanket.

“I…I had some free time today.” Toren placed his book down and sat up with an arm draped over his bent knee.

Astarion reached for his goblet and sipped at it. He squinted at Toren. He was being unusually quiet and avoiding the elf’s gaze.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I need to stare at you until you do?”

“Astarion, I have to leave. Tomorrow,” Toren told him.

“I will see you when you return then.”

“I’m not returning. I’ve done what I needed and it’s time for me to continue on elsewhere, expanding my knowledge to help others.”

Astarion’s heart sank to his stomach. He would no longer have this little solitude. He couldn’t look forward to any more discussions with Toren while feeling like the only two people in the world. Of course he was leaving and just when Astarion thought he had felt something, but who was he kidding? A teenage crush would mean nothing to Toren.

The high elf decided to shove down his feelings and slather on the well wishes with a fake smile. He shouldn’t expect his emotions to be reciprocated and Toren had been nothing but wonderful to him.

“Well, let’s celebrate one last night properly then,” Astarion said in his most cheerful voice. He held up his goblet to Toren and Toren tapped the rim of his glass against Astarion’s. “To new adventures and new stories of our own.”

They swigged the wine and then fell into a silence as they tried to read. Their eyes skimmed across the words on the pages, but they couldn’t fully concentrate, peeking over at one another every so often.

Astarion shivered and ran one hand up his arm to produce warmth. A blanket came around him and he felt fingertips brush away from his shoulders. Toren gave him a gentle grin before returning to his spot.

Minutes ticked by and Astarion couldn’t take it any more. He didn’t like the awkwardness that had formed between them or Toren’s impending departure. He refused to have a bad night.

“Do you feel anything for me?” The elf was not one for subtlety.

Toren was startled and taken aback by the question. “I’m sorry?”

“I know you think I appear young, but I’m not much younger than you and I may not be experienced in all things relationships, but I thought there were signs from you. I haven’t been hiding my feelings with all the stares and whatnot. You’re clearly attractive, but I-”

“You think I’m attractive?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what you latch onto. Isn’t it obvious I do or has the manure gone to your head?”

That was the first time Astarion had seen Toren blush. It felt like butterflies were fluttering in Astarion’s stomach at the sight.

“I feared pushing you,” Toren admitted. “I’ve enjoyed our time together, but I knew nothing could come of it and never wanted to hurt you…or myself.”

“It would hurt me more if you had never said a word and let me suffer with my own thoughts.” Several seconds passed before Astarion spoke again. “Could you do me one favor?”

“Hm?” Toren’s deep blues met his emerald gaze. He didn’t shy away.

“One kiss,” Astarion asked. “That is if you want to. I would never-”

Before the high elf could finished his sentence, Toren’s lips were on his. His tanned hand came up and twisted into the silver curls and Astarion’s found purchase on the taut muscles of Toren’s back.

Astarion laid back on the blanket while Toren hovered over him. Their lips melding together and moving with care against each other’s.

Astarion had never been kissed before and this was not how he ever expected his first kiss to happen. He had always thought it would be a simple peck followed by a rush of embarrassment but this was something else entirely. He had never experienced such bliss and didn’t want it to end.

The taste of the fruit wine mingled between their tongues. There was no wandering hands and no crude words, only tenderness shared between the two as they kissed for what seemed like an hour. When they broke apart, their foreheads pressed together for a moment before Toren moved to rest beside Astarion and pulled him in close to his side. They stayed there, falling asleep in each other’s arms under the clear night sky.

The next day was filled with hurt as Toren said his goodbye. Tears threatened to fall as their arms wrapped around the other, but Astarion knew he needed to accept this fate. They were never meant to be, but the one night they shared would be with him forever.

Toren held the book he had borrowed out to Astarion, but the elf pushed it back at him.

“Something to remember me on those lonely nights,” Astarion said.

“Thank you.” Toren placed a peck on the soft strands. “I’ll keep it always.”

Astarion watched as Toren loaded his bag into a carriage and stepped in, disappearing into the distance.

~

The journal was shut and the bottle of strawberry wine was three-quarters finished. Astarion stood and looked off to the farm not very far away. It was now owned by some other family that had been close to Toren’s grandfather as Toren was the only option to take over but he had found success elsewhere, according to the wife when Astarion had strolled his way down and struck up a conversation.

The recipe for the wine was also passed along and the family had continued to disperse it to local markets when the season had arrived for picking the berries. He had always made sure to buy an extra to share with friends later.

As the sun settled to the horizon, Astarion sighed. It was time for him to head home and he would not return until this time again the next year, when the sunflowers bloomed and everything tasted of strawberry wine.

[caffiend-queen]

Do NOT Say 'Always After My Lucky Charms,' Or I Will Stab You

Welcome to another addition to the Holidays in Hel series! Where Loki and Mina attempt to save the Avengers from yet another catastrophic holiday fuckup.

I've been cleaning up and adding bits to my Holidays in Hel series because really, it's my favorite. I hope you enjoy, and thank you as always for reading!

Chapter Two: "Why Do I Always Smell Like Something Dead That Washed Up On The Beach?"

In which Mina discovers that the Fair Folk are not only not Fair, they're kind of assholes, and it's looking like another holiday shot straight to Hel.

Mina...

“Wh- where the hell am I?”

You were in the middle of a miraculous forest clearing with brightly colored birds swooping gracefully and gnarled tree trunks that looked ready to come alive and scold you. The sky was a vaguely eerie lavender and a single, wistful pipe was sending out a delicate tune on the wind. You could just see the sparkling sapphire and golden tints of a wide river meandering through the woods. Anxiously checking, you heaved a sigh of relief to see you were still in your sweater and tartan kilt. And, you were resting on a bed … uh … couch… “Is this like a throne?” you mumbled, “Because there’s that one spiky part that looks like it’s got a crown carved into it, but there’s blankets and… why does this shit happen to me?” The couch/bed/throne whatever you were sitting on was remarkably comfortable and rose grandly above the clearing. “So was I roofied? Loki’s the one who bought the drinks, so… Poofed? Is there someone aside from Loki who can poof people in and out of bars? Ugh. I’m beginning to feel like John McClane in Die Hard, why is it always us?”

One of the tiny, jeweled butterflies ventured closer to you and made an inquiring sort of sound. Admiring its iridescent patterns, you crooned, “Hello, you little sweetie. Don’t suppose you could show me where the exit is, huh?” The glittering creature landed lightly on your upturned hand, and two eyes popped open above the concealing swirls on its thorax. You jumped a little, “Oh! Hey, look at you! I don’t suppose you talk?” There was another delightful, high trill from the butterfly, and then a shocking amount of pain as it chomped down on the sensitive webbing between your thumb and forefinger. 

“OW! You little shit!” You shook your hand furiously but the butterfly had surprisingly sharp teeth and stubbornly hung on until you smacked it sharply on the head with your index finger. “Bad! Bad butterfly!” With a spiteful chitter, the creature fluttered away.

“Babe! You’re up!” Two arms wrapped around you like a particularly stubborn strain of ivy, a hand heading straight for your breasts.

And suddenly you were fighting off the long-limbed advances of a very handsome man.

An extremely gorgeous man with pointed ears.

“Hands off, pal! Who the Hel are you?”

He chuckled indulgently, leering at you - shit, were his eyes silver? - and took a swig of something out of the golden cup with one hand while gripping you around the waist with the other. You managed to eel free from his grip - mainly because you knew his attention was on his cocktail. Stumbling back, you took a wild look around before focusing again on him.

He was beautiful. Beautiful in the perfect, unearthly way that Loki was. Likely as tall and perfectly muscled with long, flowing golden hair and pointed ears.

Pointed. Fucking. Ears.

“Aw, damn it. You’re one of the Fae, aren’t you?” Loki had warned you about those guys.

The elf smiled again, full red lips and so alluring as his lids dropped to half-mast, looking you over thoroughly. "You are so hot. Babe, we are gonna PARTY," he paused, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “and then I'm gonna find your pot o' gold.“ He chortled loudly and for a minute, he reminded you of your ex-boyfriend Ted, president of his fraternity and notorious for the high alcohol poisoning rate on campus.

“I beg your pardon?” you gasped, “Look, I don’t care who you are- just send me back, and- wait, where’s Monty? You didn’t hurt the poor guy, did you?”

He began laughing magnificently, really, no other word would do, his head thrown back and mouth open to show his sharp, white teeth. “I am that shriveled-up old dude. I’m Monty with just a touch of glamour to make me ordinary. Now look at the real me! What a step up in your love life, huh?”

You glanced over your shoulder - was there an exit around here? A portal? A Greyhound bus? “This cannot be happening,” you groaned. “Yeah, uh… your name’s not really Monty, what is it?”

Taking another gulp of mead, or whatever the Hel the Fae drank these days, and giving an extremely rude belch, your supermodel fairy kidnapper offered, "Aengus. Prince of the Tuatha Dé Danan." He winked at you over the goblet he was drinking from, "And your fairy for Youth, Love, and Summer. I know you're honored, 'cause you are my chosen lady-babe."

“Angus?” you attempted.

“No, babe. Just- it’s Ah-hen-gess.” He put his long fingers on your jaw.

“Uh, Ah-hingus?” you tried again.

“Draw it out, gorgeous, just elongate your jaw like a snake and say, “Ah-he- Look, never mind, babe. Here,” he thrust a goblet (chalice? flagon?) into your hand and you sniffed at it. “Uisce beatha. The good stuff. It’s the second most delicious thing to come out of Ireland.” The smarmy bastard had the nerve to look pointedly down at his junk as he said this.

“M’lord, the other humans are totally bitching about getting stuck in the tree castle. You want me to knock ‘em out?” Another spectacularly good-looking elf with the body of a Ken doll and the expression of a village simpleton interrupted your little interlude.

“You- wait, there’s other humans here?” You froze in your efforts to bat away the wandering hands of Aengus and frowned at him. “How many people did you kidnap?”

Glaring at his tattle-tale elf buddy, your captor tried to smooth it over. “Babe, don’t worry about them. Let’s chill, take some clothes off, drink a brew or two…” he leaned forward, his beautiful face wearing a dashing grin. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine. It’s…” he giggled, “magically delicious!”

“Really? Oh, my god, just- geddoff me! I mean it! You do not want the Hel that is about to rain down on you in the form of my boyfriend Loki!”

Both elves stopped dead and stared at you. Aengus even put his flagon of uisce beatha down. “Did you say… Loki?” he asked hoarsely.

You rarely invoked the Name of Loki. You preferred to handle your own problems. You didn’t expect or even want Loki to get involved in all the petty details of your life because he had a tendency to attempt to take them all over in order to “assist” you. But if it freaked out these douchey Irish Fae then you were going to wield Loki’s reputation like a blunt instrument.

So… “Yes!” you hissed threateningly, “You’ve interrupted a very important night for us and Loki, Prince of Asgard, rightful King of Jotunheim and God of Mischief and Lies does NOT like to be disappointed!” 

You were pissed. You didn’t get your traditional corned beef and cabbage dinner. You did not get lucky with Loki - wait, that sounded like a dating show - but this was really the worst kind of bullshit! You may have been shy when Loki first plucked you off Madison Avenue (literally) but time and a series of disastrous holiday fuckups had definitely helped you find your voice. And your temper. You leaned forward, staring into his startled silver eyes. “And of course, you probably know Loki best as the most terrifying of the ten things that invaded Ireland. Remember the Vikings? I’ll bet you do, Angus!”

“Aengus,” he correctly absently before looking at the other freaked-out fairy. “Get the other babes, I don’t care if they’re hot, this is turning into a total buzzkill, man.”

Your eyes widened, Shit, did I just get us all killed by invoking the name of Loki? 

Loki...

“Why does this always happen to us?”

It could have been any one of the Avengers whining, and really, Loki had to agree it was a reasonable question. It had been repeated over and over, on every holiday since Stark had first insisted he attend the billionaire’s ridiculous Yule festivities.

“We are cursed,” Thor said, slumped over Mjölnir, which he had been swinging around in an extremely unsafe fashion as he shouted about “Betrayal!” and “Vengeance!” until he’d nearly caved in the skull of one of the terrified bartenders and had been threatened by Tony. 

“I will shave you bald. Point Break, if you don’t put that stumpy piece of shit down! You remember that doorman you put into a coma? Do you? That was Happy’s second cousin’s kid!” 

Trying to ignore them all, Loki was walking through the deeply uncomfortable patrons of the Dead Rabbit, which had been locked down the moment they discovered their dates had been - yet again - abducted. Bucky was following close enough to have scuffed his exquisite Bolvaint onyx dress shoes, but, well, there was more important business at hand. Also, anyone willing to attempt to get testy about being detained was instantly quelled by Bucky’s glare. 

Leaning in close to Loki, he murmured, “What are we looking for?”

Lips barely moving, he answered, “Our women were taken through some portal with that vile troll Monty,” Loki sneered, “so I am attempting to discover this portal. But upon occasion, a creature of supernatural origin might also act as the portal. So no one shall leave until -” His sharp eyes just barely caught a tuft of hair moving stealthily along the mahogany bar, and he vaulted over the shining expanse and seized the tuft of hair and the body attached to it.

“Saor mé nó bás!” The diminutive man was kicking at Loki fiercely, though his legs were too short to make contact.

Holding him up to eye level, he snarled back, “Phooka, I should have known. You must be mad to attempt Maidentheft here!”

“Wait?” Steve poked his head over the bar. “Maidens? Theft? Is this some human trafficking ring?”

“Of a sort,” Loki said, not taking his gaze from the writhing Phooka. “The Fae enjoy stealing mortal brides upon occasion. But the victim must agree to dance with them first before they can be pulled through the portal.” He gave the flailing creature a brisk shake that nearly took his tufted red head from his body. “You are the portal, goblin! Where have you sent them!”

Steve just couldn’t help himself. “Don’t you mean Leprechaun? Or is that rude? Little person? Or-”

“Call him what you want, Capsicle,” barked Tony, “but he’s snatched the girls and we need them back! Pepper’s never going to let me forget this, so let Loki do his mystical mojo shit before she has me sleeping out on the balcony for the next year!”

“Ní inseoidh mé go deo! Lig saor mé!” The glamour was wearing off Phooka and his limbs were lengthening, hair turning long and silver-blond. But then the image shimmered and he returned to the gnarled little creature he’d been before. 

“Oh, no, Cluricaun, I will not release you. In fact,” Loki’s arm raised higher, easily holding the struggling creature at eye level, “I shall bind you into this form forever.”

“Nil! Nil!” he screeched, thrashing like a trout on the hook.

“Oh, yes…” purred Loki, an unholy look of joy gleaming in his eyes, “no longer of the Fair Folk, the beautiful creature who bespells all who see him. You shall be in this lumpy, repugnant form forever. Warts covering every inch of you. Oozing pus.” Phooka shrieked and kicked, fruitlessly waving his stubby arms as Loki’s grip remained steady. 

Bucky pulled an alarmingly large KA-BAR USMC Utility knife from… somewhere. The dim light of the bar glinted off of it as he pointed it at the troll that kidnapped his Darcy. “Let me soften him up for you, huh?” Everyone crowding around them backed up three steps.

“No need, my friend. Is there, Imp?"

Looking angrily between them, the creature slumped in Loki’s grasp. Expertly spinning his knife between his fingers, Bucky looked at the rest of the Avengers. “Armor up. Let’s go get our women.”

Mina...

“No hard feelings, huh?” Aengus was examining his perfectly shaped fingernails and flicked off a bit of a fish scale. “Your dudes should be here sometime, so… you know.”

“Wait, what?” You were waist-deep in fish guts. Pepper was sliding headfirst off a mountain of what looked like rotting seaweed and slime, and Jane and Darcy were trying to fend off the seagulls who were apparently assuming they were part of the fish offal and thus fair game. “No hard feelings? You kidnapped us, you dick! And now you’re leaving us… where the hell is this, anyway?”

There would be no further information forthcoming from Prince Asshole of the Fae, because Aengus and his fairy henchmen disappeared with a sparkly ‘pop!’

“What the hell just happened?” screeched Darcy, swiping at a seagull trying to get his beak into her hair. “Get off me, you flying barnacle!”

“I’m… I don’t know,” you admitted, trying to raise one foot out of the fish guts and losing a shoe. “Ugh! This is so nasty! But I think I freaked him out by telling him we know Loki and this was really going to piss him off.”

Pepper was gagging as she slid sideways in the disintegrating fish intestines, her immaculate white suit now an unspeakable Rorschach test of nausea. “How long before your boyfriend figures out where we are, Mina?”

“Loki’s not some kind of a magical bloodhound,” you groaned, “I dunno. Did these idiots try to hide us, or is this like just dumping us off on the side of the highway like a carjacker leaving you to die?" Looking around as you struggled to free yourself from the decaying remains of what had to be half the sea life in the Atlantic Ocean, you were getting concerned that this was option number two.

There was no sign of life around you. 

“Now what?” sulked Hedley Kow, who’d really been looking forward to scoring on this night, of all nights! The Fair Folk were all hot, but man, there was something about bagging a human chick… there was nothing like it. Unfortunately, he’d attempted to woo Natasha, so he was currently sporting two black eyes and a broken arm.

Sighing elaborately, Aengus glared at him. “Ring up the Aos sí. You know there are some serious babes there, especially the Pinkets. Tell ‘em we got barrels of Uisce beatha and a live band. Those chicks will be topless by midnight!”

Loki...

When their feet hit the ground of wherever they’d been portal’ed to, the Avengers were ready. Armed, teeth gnashing, weapons bristling, and ready to bring down the entire Leprechaun Kingdom to avenge their abducted comrades. But there was no one to admire their ferocious presentation, aside from a couple of listless seagulls pecking at the bloated carcass of what was possibly a seal.

“Are you sure we’re at the right place?” Steve said doubtfully, “I just figured the Fairies would have a… fancier setup?”

“We are in the correct place,” snarled Loki, “but not in the kingdom of the Fair Folk. They have discarded the women in this benighted place.”

Tony was levitating in his suit, thrusters firing randomly as he turned in one direction, and then the other, trying to spot Pepper and the others. Loki could feel a searing headache creeping up his spine as he had to put out the small fire Tony’s suit had created on a dilapidated shed before he set this malodorous fishing slum ablaze. 

“Hey…” Bucky put down his AK-47. “I think I know where we are. This is Port. It’s an abandoned village on this tiny island off the coast of Ireland. Donegal. In World War Two, we were doing reconnaissance on the Nazis…” His ocean eyes went blank for a minute before he seemed to reboot again. “It’s supposed to be haunted. It smelled like fish guts and mildew. That part’s just the way I remember it.”

Spreading his long, pale fingers, Loki created a sizzling rope of green fire. He whispered to it, twirled it in an endless loop between his hands, and then flung it free, like a bird set loose from its cage and it soared toward the sea. “They are here,” he said, “but hidden. The Fae are spiteful, even in defeat.”

“Hey, what’s that?” Darcy was pointing a fingernail with chipped red polish at the sky.

Sliding free from the pile of fish offal, Jane still managed to slip and fall into a particularly rotted, gelatinous mass. “Damnit!” she howled, Just So Done With This.

Putting a hand over her eyes and trying to shield them from the salt-laced wind, Mina squinted. “That’s…” she knew that signature, the coils of green flame twisting elegantly as it circled around them. “That’s from Loki.” She gave an excited little jump and slipped too, ending up on her ass with a “splat!’ in a decaying barrel of… of course, fish guts. “Ugh! But that means they’re here. They’re looking for us! HEY!” Mina shouted, jumping up and down, waving her filthy arms, “Here! We’re over here!”

Within an instant, the tall, beautiful form of her lover, her god, her Loki stood before her, cradling her face in his cool hands. “And here you are, lovely.” He bent to kiss her but Mina backed away. 

“Don’t! I love you and I’m so glad you found us but don’t touch me! You’ll have to burn that suit and you know I love the Tom Ford jackets on you!” Loki’s elegant nose was wrinkling, despite his best efforts and she sighed. “Why is it that I always smell like something dead that washed up on the beach whenever you rescue me?”

“Ah,” he raised one finger, gently tapping her nose. “I did not rescue you on this particular disastrous holiday. The Fae set you free.” She shivered, looking doubtfully around the filthy pier and Loki chuckled, pulling off his jacket and helping her into it, mourning briefly. It really was one of his favorites… ah, well. “How could this happen? We were prepared for battle.”

“It was genius,” Jane said approvingly, “Mina terrified them into releasing us.”

“How?” asked Thor, clumsily petting her hair and snarling it into dreadlocks with a hint of decomposing marine life lacquer. 

“She evoked the name of Loki” Darcy interrupted, as she always did. “She scared the shit out of the head fairy guy. Man, were those assholes a letdown! I thought fairies were supposed to be so magical and mysterious? They were like frat guys! Even stupider than frat guys, which I did not know was possible.”

Loki raised one elegant black brow. “Really, my clever girl? What did you say that so discouraged them? The group of you are an extremely desirable prize to the Fae.” The women simultaneously looked at themselves and shuddered as one. “Well, not at this moment,” he allowed, “but you are delectable.”

Mina allowed herself the smallest smirk, the tiniest bit of gloating. “I told that dickhead Aengus that surely he remembered that of the ten most terrifying things that invaded Ireland, you were the worst.”

“I was there also!” protested Thor, who’d given up on trying to soothe Jane and was attempting to wipe off the gelatinous fish residue from his hands. “I was very terrifying! The Fae must sing songs of my power in battle-”

“Yes, yes brother,” Loki interrupted, emerald eyes narrowed, “did you say Aengus?”

Mina nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that shut down his sleazy seduction scene in a hurry. You should have seen-”

His elegant hands waved furiously in the air, and they all disappeared from the dilapidated remains of Port with a loud “Pop!” that scared the seagulls.

The stink from the group was so appalling by the time Loki had “poofed” them back into the Tower that F.R.I.D.A.Y. politely informed them that, “I have taken the liberty of opening the gym showers for your group, and there will be a cart to take your clothes to the incinerator.”

Watching something that might have been a fish eyeball fall out of her hair and swirl down the shower drain, Mina smiled a little to see even Natasha, who had somehow remained untouched gratefully lean into the warm water. “Everyone okay?”

“You know that when the tower’s AI refuses to let you on the residential floors without a decontamination that you smell really, really bad,” sighed Pepper, shampooing her hair for the third time.

But finally clean at last and dressed in warm, fresh clothes, Mina sighed with relief, falling into the firmly muscled arms of Loki. “Thank you for being historically terrifying, sweetheart.”

“But I was there, too!” protested Thor, still upset and looking vaguely ridiculous in borrowed sweats that barely reached his shins. “Did the sprite not mention me?”

“Uh…” Mina was trying to not actually inhale the corned beef and cabbage dinner, grabbing another scoop of creamy Colcannon before Bucky took it all. Tony was insistent that no one was heading off to bed without polishing off the Irish dinner his chefs prepared. “Try the mustard sauce, Loki,” she said, spooning some of the fragrant yellow sauce onto his corned beef. “So, I still don’t get this. Leprechauns are really just fairy guys who use it as a disguise to trick human women into like, dating them?”

Loki shrugged, elegantly slicing into his meal. “There are Leprechauns. But they care for nothing but their gold. Their interaction with mortals is minimal. But their appearance is one easily taken and the Deamhna Aerig can use it to walk among you. No sweet girl like you would turn down a dance from…” he sneered despite his attempts to remain calm, “such as Monty, now would you?”

His Mina’s chin went up, a bad sign. “I won’t ever be sorry for being kind to people.”

Sighing, he tried to backtrack. “I know, lovely. But this is also what these craven fools count on.”

Natasha was finishing off another two fingers of Redbreast 15-year whiskey. Slamming the glass back on the table, she said, “What matters now is what happens to this мудак! How do we teach them a lesson?”

Even knowing he was about to say something terrible, something probably rather evil, Mina still felt a tingle in her girl parts as Loki leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as a slow, savage grin spread across his beautiful face. “мой друг, this is happening as we enjoy our dinner. Though,” he added graciously, knowing the Russian’s desire to handle her own ‘business,’ "I am happy to deliver the fool who assaulted you to a location of your choice for your own brand of justice.”

She just couldn’t help it, Natasha started laughing, this arrogant сволочь knew her so well. “I’m looking forward to seeing your Evil Genius. I assume you have a way for us to enjoy it?”

“Well,” Loki allowed modestly, “since you have requested it…”

It was as clear as some well-filmed high-definition film, but the scene the highly entertained Avengers were watching wasn’t fiction, though the sight of the ethereal forest of the Fae would seem so. But the vile, sweating mass of Leprechauns were anything but enchanting.

“No, ladies, just hold-” a giant fart ripped through the desperate attempt from Hedley Kow to salvage the evening. Two nymphs reared back, waving their pretty hands in front of their faces as they gagged. “I mean it, we’re just gonna switch back to our real forms and-”

“If thou could have, thou wouldst,” sneered one. “Come, sisters. It is time for the Aos si to take our leave.” Groans rippled through the forest as the silvery forms of the nymphs disappeared.

“What is happening, man?” screamed one of the Fae, pulling at his ratty red hair as he belched miserably, sending up a cloud of fumes so toxic it was almost visible. “This is on you, Aengus! No babes! We’re in Gnome Hel, man! It was Loki, huh? You pissed him off again and shit- I can’t stop farting!”

Their leader gagged, feeling another one of his monstrous pimples spurt pus onto a chest so hairy that he appeared to be wearing a sweater. “He’s just being a dick! I’ll fix it, y’know, when Loki cools down.” The sweating mass of hairy, pimpled, gaseous trolls moaned, a chorus of ear-splitting farts their only answer.

Mina...

“How are you feeling, sweet girl?” That sly devil you were in love with, the god who’d rescued you yet again from a colossal holiday fuckup that was guaranteed in the company of the Avengers, was stroking your neck very softly and it was doing things to you. 

“Better, I guess,” you were trying to not melt into some needy, shameless puddle because you were standing just behind the rest, who were still enjoying the complete shit show that the Irish Fae had found themselves floundering through. “At least we got our corned beef and cabbage dinner.”

“Mmmm…” he breathed against your ear, the vibrations tingling up and down your spine. “And is that all my darling Mina wanted for her ancestral holiday?”

“Well,” you allowed, “I’d hoped for… you know. A special moment. No matter how godawful our holidays are, the sex afterward is always so…” you sighed mistily, “spectacular.”

His long arms tightened around your waist, and you felt that strange pull at the base of your spine that told you within an instant you would be somewhere else, swept away by this magical god, who for some reason loved you. The room disappeared, and you fell onto your bed, pillows flying in all directions, and in an instant, you were naked and Loki was thrusting into you. You yelped in shock. Usually, it was a production, a slow build as your delicious god toyed and cajoled you into being ready for him. 

But this!

You were ready, oh, god you were ready and you had no idea how it happened so fast.

“W- wait, one minute we’re watching the Asshole Fae Reality Show and now we’re- oh, GOD!” He’d given a particularly savage thrust and you just howled.

“I fear I cannot be patient tonight, cailín daor,” he groaned, “I have wanted to be inside you since I heard of your genius, your terrifying of the Fair Folk until they retreated from the field of battle.”

“Th- th- they dumped us in a pile of fish guts in a haunted village!” you managed, the mattress bouncing vigorously and your hands slipping over the slick skin on his back, trying to hold on. 

“Ah,” he chuckled breathlessly, a deeply arousing growl that made your thighs clench harder against his hips, “you were cunning, my love. You were outnumbered in combat against a well-armored - though profoundly stupid - foe, and you drove them before you like sheep. You used your wit, your cleverness and I have never,” he thrust hard again and your legs flew up, toes pointing to the ceiling as the silky tip of him pushed higher inside you than you knew was possible. “I have never,” he continued, “desired you more.” Loki was speaking with his mouth against yours, not kissing so much as taking in the breath of each other, his body iron-hard and driving fiercely through you, big hands groping your breasts greedily. “So tonight, mo shióg deas, I shall fuck you, as one warrior would another after combat.” Heaving up and back on his heels, he hauled you along with him, still connected as he bent you, back arched over his arm, his other hand pushing gently against your heaving stomach. “I can feel myself,” he panted, “here.” 

You let out a screech as he pressed harder. The feel of him inside and outside of you was unimaginable. It was wild and overwhelming and so fucking sexy and it was turning you into some kind of lunatic because you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and reared up, biting his neck with your sharp little teeth. Loki let out a low, harsh groan and you could swear his cock just doubled in size.

“Do it again.” His fingers gripped the back of your hair and pressed your face to his throat. “Again.”

Grinning, you did, biting into that luscious muscle just over his prominent collarbone and seizing a handful of his thick, silky hair as well.

Loki was always smooth, exquisite, and slick in his seductions. He was not one to lose control but you felt a savage sort of victory as his sinuous hips stuttered, pushing harder, sloppier into you. “Again,” he rasped.

Now both hands were in his hair, tilting his head sharply as you bit into the other side of his neck, and to your shock, your mouth filled with the lush taste of his cool blood as your cunt filled with the heat of his come.

Shivering against each other, Loki’s hands squeezing your ass and your still gripping thick handfuls of his hair, you were still, frozen tightly together. “Holy shit,” you wheezed, “I never… That so goes on our list of stuff to do to each other again!”

Loki began laughing, a huge, hearty laugh that so rarely came from him, an unguarded moment he rarely allowed and it was wonderful. Also, it was making his cock jolt inside your swollen girl parts and rubbing up against some really sensitive places. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you started giggling, too. “Happy St. Patrick’s Day, baby,” you managed, “now, that’s celebrating like a true Ireannach!”

“And to you, my love,” he managed, “and to you.”

Ireannach - Irishman mo shióg deas - my pretty fairy

Deamhna Aerig - air demon

Uisce beatha - from the genius misreall, it means "water of life," early whiskey and the rare thing that the Fae would be guzzling on a night like this.

I'm starting over with a vague memory of who might like my Loki and Avengers tales. If you would like on or off this list, please let me know! Thank you. Mwah!

@what-is-your-plan-today

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@the-soulofdevil

@americasass81

@mdemontespan1667

@sultry-rachael

@myoxisbroken

@gigglingtiggerv2

@notpedeka

@narnianarcher

@sylviefromneptune

@winterslove1917

@kimanne723

@hawkeyes-queen

@grymrayven

@stevihj

@lizette50

@jevans2

@wolfsmom1

@devikafernando

@wegingerangelica

@nildespirandum

@alexakeyloveloki

@thebatshitcrazyfangirl

@thehumming6ird

@archy3001

@iheartsebastianstan

@tomstinkerbell

@wolfpawn

@rayofdawnworld

@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy

@dangertoozmanykids101

@alexakeyloveloki

@nuggsmum

@boredbrooder

@fairlightswiftly

@inkededucatednnerdy

@nonsensicalobsessions

@viv-annelore

@eleniblue

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The cost of broken promises

A Fëanor one shot inspired by these reactions written by @doodle-pops

Pairing:  Fëanor x Fem. reader

Word count: 1.5K words

Themes: Angst

Warnings: Dark Fëanor | Mentions of torture |  Mentions of abandonment and exile 

Summary: Fëanor learns the identity of your father, and finds out that breaking promises come with a price. 

Rules and tag form can be found here.    

Fëanor felt many things in his life: happiness, especially when he was with his father. Sorrow for the mother he never got to see. Anger, for when his father remarried and sired more children. And, of course, pride. He felt pride when he crafted his first tool, the first weapon, for when he made the Silmarils, those three jewels that held the light of the Trees and were the greatest of his creations. Fëanor experienced it all, even wrath and love. Once, Fëanor felt love. It consumed his every thought. Fëanor would have done anything for that love until, one day, a secret came into the light and tore that love asunder.

That secret was the identity of your parents. No one knew who your mother and father were, and you refused to speak of them. You were parts elf and parts Ainu, and Fëanor considered himself the most fortunate of elves when he claimed your love. He was persistent, courting you, wooing you, making extravagant promises, and offering the world and his undying devotion if you accepted his hand and stood by his side. He would give you no cause to doubt his love, he said. You would have no reason to fear him, he said. He wanted you to trust him in all things, he said. 

You took him at his word and trusted him. You mustered your courage and revealed to him the identities of your mother and father. Fëanor was talking of marriage, and you did not wish to have secrets between you. You confessed that your mother was an elf who died giving you birth, and your father? Your father was the mightiest among the Valar, the one called the Marrer and the Great Deceiver, and many lived in fear of his name. You told Fëanor all, hiding nothing from him.

How he changed! In an instant, all the love he felt for you disappeared. His fine promises were all but forgotten. It did not matter that you were nothing like your father. He did not care that you went against Morgoth and broke away from his influence as soon as it was safe for you to do so. Fëanor was enraged. He turned a deaf ear to your pleas and hardened his heart to the tears coursing down your cheeks. You were the child of the Lord of Angband. In his eyes, you were an abomination.

"You are as great a deceiver as your father," he had declared. "Be gone from my sight and trouble me no more!" 

It was the kindest thing he said. Fëanor went on to say a great many things, all of them cruel and undeserved. And that was not enough for him. Fëanor, a mighty prince of the Noldor, decided to make an example of you. He made your connection to Melkor known to all, humiliating you before his people and casting you out with nothing but the robes on your back after making you watch the destruction of your home. You had nowhere to go. The other Valar appealed on your behalf, but Fëanor ignored them all. They could never force him to change his mind. It was against their nature to do so. And you were forced to wander, dependent on the kindness of those who crossed your path. 

Alas, you found no kindness. No one took you in. Door after door closed, and your life grew harder. Fëanor could not have been more pleased with himself. You would have led to his ruin, and he could not believe he allowed himself to love you. He was free.

Or so he thought. Many days after you were driven away, the strangest feeling came over him. It was there when he caught traces of your perfume clinging to his robes when he looked over to the chair you always favored. Wherever he went, wherever he looked, he would be reminded of you, and that feeling weighed down on him even more. It worried him, gnawed at him like a hungry dog gnawing at a bone, and nearly drove him mad. Fëanor did not know what it meant until one day, he walked past the burned husk that was once your home. He stopped by the charred ruins of a fence and looked. And remembered. 

His men held your arms while he threw the first torch. How he smiled when the fire quickly roared to life. The sounds of wood crackling and popping while it burned and the roof groaning as hungry flames licked against the rafters were like music to his ears. His smile grew wider when the roof finally collapsed, and he heard a strangled noise, almost like a sob. Fëanor turned to you, his eyes alive with triumph.

"Take this abomination out of my sight," he commanded. "Our realm must not be tainted by Melkor's filth."

His words shattered what was left of your spirit. Fëanor remembered it—your stricken look—and went cold all over. His triumph, once sweet as honey, now tasted like ash against his tongue. That strange feeling weighing him down was clear now. It was guilt he felt. Guilt and remorse and shame. How it shamed him to see how weak his love was! How fickle was his character, how hollow were his promises! Fëanor was ashamed. You trusted him with your deepest, darkest secret, thinking he would keep true to his word, and he let you down in the worst way imaginable. He recoiled when he remembered the harsh words and how he humiliated you, ruined your life, and all because of who sired you, something you had no control over. 

Determined to right the many wrongs he had done, he searched for you. Eru alone knew how he searched for you. No one knew where you were. Not a trace of you could be found. Fëanor wept constantly, regretting his actions deeply. The sight of you being driven out of the gates haunted him and plagued his every dream. 

After the chaos that followed the destruction of the Two Trees, he had known no peace. His father was slain. The silmarils were stolen. He turned on other elves and encouraged his followers to do the same. Most were cursed for their part in the kinslaying, and he had no hope of ever leaving the halls of Mandos. His crimes had been too great for pardon. Morgoth tormented him in their final battle, taunting him about you, telling him how you were captured and tortured. Morgoth cried, "How easy it was to break her," and he thanked Fëanor for sending his errant child back to him for admonishment. 

And that was not all. After falling to Morgoth and entering the halls of Mandos, Fëanor learned that another had loved you in silence. As soon as word of your exile reached his ears, he searched for you, hoping to find you and bring you back. When he saved you, you were but a shell of what you were, utterly broken by everything you had to endure.

"The Lord Commander's love does not change like the passing of the season. It is steadfast and true. And he is patient, tending to y/n's every need with his own hands and without complaint." After having been moved by Nienna's pleas on Fëanor's behalf, Námo revealed to him your fate. Fëanor could never leave the halls or interact with the other fëar. There would be harm in him receiving a glimps of what was yet to come. Námo moved his hand over a pool of water beside his throne. It held visions of the past, the present, and the future. The inky black murk was as still as a mirror, and the images that floated to the surface were clear.

Fëanor could only watch while the Lord Commander held you, comforted you, soothed your fears, and wiped the tears that always fell. He recognized the burnished copper skin, the blue-green feathers, and the blue eyes that burned brighter than any lamp. It was none other than the Elder King's herald himself. Eönwë had loved you, he was told. He did not care about the circumstances surrounding your birth or who your father was. And he kept silent out of respect for your feelings for Fëanor. He had been away, on a mission on behalf of the Elder King. Upon his return, he learned of what happened and set out in search of you. Through the still waters of that black pool, Fëanor saw it all unfold. Bright steel cutting through the darkness, the anguished screams of orcs falling to a blade forged by none other than Aulë himself.  He saw the iron bars, you on the other side, covered in fresh scars, barely hanging onto life. It cut him deep, to know he was the cause of your torment. 

"With their graces leave," Námo went on, "the Lord Commander brought y/n to the safety of Ilmarin and has been the light scattering the darkness plaguing her."

Fëanor would have wept, but he could not. His fëa trembled violently with grief and pain. You were being cared for by another, loved by another. If only he had shown you the kindness you rightfully deserved, you would have been safe and in his arms. "Does she love him?"

Námo was truthful. It was against his nature to be anything else. "Y/n may not love him now, but she will come to do so, and deeply.” He studied Fëanor with eyes that had peered into the great mysteries of the universe and witnessed a great many things. “She will give him a child. This child was meant to be yours, Fëanor, son of Finwë. This child would have called you father and been the light of your life. Alas, such a thing will never come to pass now."

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part 4

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Rated: T

Warnings: 18+ not feeling good enough, flirting with Gareth, 

Little Bird Masterlist

After I stormed out of the Great Hall I just felt embarrassed. I normally hold my cool so well- I never let my emotions get the best of me like that.  I should have been able to just keep shit to myself but instead I blew up at Ominis and I was going to have to apologize. And probably to Sebastian too. 

To avoid everything about the situation I spent the rest of the day in my vivariums, popping around and making sure all my little beasts were taken care of, pruning my plants and practicing my potions.

Wiggenweld, Thunderbrew, I’d brewed them enough times to have the process memorized. Fifth year I was an incredible student, Professor Weasly even called me a gifted witch. But after everything that happened at the end of that year, after spending year Sixth trying to patch my friends back together, dealing with the death of my mentor and maybe the coursework just got too hard.

Now. Now I felt like a bloody idiot most of the time.

I try out a new potion, one that I know Sharp is going to have on the next exam and I just- can’t do it. I must not be preparing the ingredients correctly, or adding them at the right intervals. I feel like I follow the steps to a T and the potion just looks like water with leaves and sticks in it.

In a fit of frustration I smack the hot caldron off the burner, the metal burning my hand as it crashes to the floor, spilling the mix of ingredients all over the floor. Deek apperates next to me, looking at the mess.

I wipe the tears off my cheeks and he puts his hand on my leg. “Deek can clean it up miss.”

“No- no Deek I got it.”

“Miss-”

“I promise Deek. I want to.” I sigh and look at my red palm, it just looks flushed now but I know the burn will become worse overtime. I grab a cloth and wrap it around my palm, keeping the wound safe. I could use a wiggenweld, but what's even the point.

“Master Sallow is asking for you.”

“He’s here?”

“Deek didn’t let him in.”

“Can you tell him I’m not here.” I mumble, eyes locked on my mess on the ground. I just wasn’t in the mood to be around him, for him to tell me how easy it was, having him take over and try to teach me.

Deek nods and pats my leg. “Deek will be in his office if Miss needs him.” I smile and nod at the house elf. His office is a little room I had conjured last year. I shrunk down a bunch of furniture and surprised him with his own little space. “Thank you, Deek.”

I pick up a rag and get on my hands and knees to clean up my mess.

When I’m finally finished and ready to retire to my room, there's a wrapped plate of food waiting for me next to the door.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next day I had apologized to Ominis for my outburst, and all was well, he even dropped the topic of Sebastian and I after that, so it was nice to not be constantly reminded of the situation I was in.

I still, however, was utterly lost at most of my classes. I had a few hours in between my last class and when Sebastian and I were meeting in the undercroft to continuing honing my ancient magic, and I was desperate to spend it in the library.

I had been sat alone at a table for a while when I heard a throat clear. I look up and find Gareth, looking at me with a small smile on his face. “Can I sit?” He quietly asks. I nod and he grabs the seat next to me. “You can tell me to shove off if you want, but this fell out of your potions book in class the other week.” He puts down a sheet of parchment. My notes from our last lesson. “I was just reading them and- I think you’re... thinking about it wrong.”

He unfolds the parchment and I see little notes written along the sides. “You’re all about following the book- which is good. But potion making is almost... like art. These things have helped me and I thought next time you try-”

He cuts off after I throw my arms around his neck, his hands slowly sliding around my waist in our awkward embrace from the chairs. “Thank you, Gareth. Truly.” I sigh and look over is neat notes.

“I just think- you’re doing a great job. You shouldn’t be so discouraged. You’re one of the smartest witches in our year.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, tucking the notes into my bag. “No!” Gareth laughs, “I mean it! Perhaps the smartest in the whole school.”

“Oh hush.” I blush, pulling our my potion book. “While I have you- any tips on this potion?” I ask opening it up to the right page.

Gareth and I get lost in the book, he flips through pages and gives me tips on things that I would have never thought of, hunched over the same book, inches from each other. I hadn’t spent a lot of time alone with Gareth, but he was sweet. Seemed to have really grown up since I’d first met him.

“There you are!” I hear and look up at Sebastian comes around the corner. “Fuck.” I sigh and close my eyes. “What time is it? Sebastian I’m so sorry.”

“We were meeting a half hour ago.” He mumbles, looking over the scene in front of him.

“Gareth, I have to go.” I sigh, closing my book quickly, not wanting to make my friend wait any longer. “I can’t thank you enough, I’m going to try all these trucks and maybe Sharp won’t hate me for failing.”

“You’re going to do great.” He says and I pat his hand in farewell. Sebastian takes my bag from me and throws it over his shoulder. “Weasley.” He says in both greeting and goodbye and we’re off to the Undercroft.

As soon as we’re out of the library he asks me, “What was all that about?”

“I just got caught up. I’ve been struggling with potions and Gareth was helping me through some of the things I wasn’t sure of.”

“Right.” he mumbles, clearly not happy with my explanation. But to be honest I wasn’t entirely happy with it either. Sure the whole encounter was very innocent, and it was truly just about potions, but I couldn’t help but feeling a.. warmth when I was with Gareth. Him being patient, kind, the little touches he kept giving me, it made me feel good. Wanted.

Sebastian puts my bag down on the couch in the Undercroft and takes his robe off, setting up the practice dummy. I put the potions book I was holding down on top of my bag and a small slip of parchment slips out, resting on the stone floor. It’s in Gareth’s handwriting:

Would you like to get a butterbeer with me at the three broomsticks this weekend?

“What's that?” Sebastian asks, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt over his forearms. 

“Loose paper.” I mumble and shove it back into the book. I stand up to my full height and ditch my cloak as well, tossing it over my things. I felt so guilty at even the thought of saying yes, but some part of my brain wanted to. Liked that attention that Gareth was offering. 

“Alright.” Sebastian smiles. “I’ll forgive you for your tardiness, even if you were hanging out with Weasley.” 

“What's wrong with Weasley? Beisdes being a Griffindor.”

“He’s just... Weasley.” Sebastian laughs, “Im surprised you survived studying with him and that you didn’t lose your eyebrows in the process.” 

I don’t respond, wishing he would just drop the line of conversation. “Are we picking up where we left off last time?” I ask. While Sebastian didn’t have any real experience with Ancient Magic, no more than I did, he took it upon himself to read everything he could on the subject, frequently sneaking into the restricted section on her behalf. 

“No- I feel like we’re stalling out on how to contain the magic, I’m thinking it would help if we left some of it out.” He notes and I narrow my eyes at him. 

“I thought thats the exact opposite of the thing I told you I wanted to do. I don’t want to use it, I want to make it not a problem anymore.”

He sighs, this isn’t the first conversation we’ve had about this. He’s always seen my magic as a gift. But he hadn’t been there when it killed Professor Fig, when it thought legions of people who now wanted me dead for simply having it, people who wanted to possess it. This magic was a burden that should be kept hidden.

“What if containing it for the rest of time isn’t working. What if it never works?” 

“That can’t be an option.” I seethe, fighting to keep my voice from wobbling. I close my eyes as those feelings bubble up from deep in my stomach. I feel warm as the magic starts to fill me up, overwhelm me. 

I drop my wand and it clatters to the floor. “Bird.” He mumbles, coming to my side and places his hand on both of my shoulders. “Breathe.” 

“Don’t tell me to breathe.” I snap, eyes opening to meet his. His warm, normal brown eyes widen at the sight of my glowing ones. He takes a step back in fear. He was afraid of me, thats why he didn’t want to fucking be with me. I lose control and turn to face the practice dummy. Without lifting my hand the wood explodes in blue flame. 

Tears prick my eyes as I look at the destruction. I glance at Sebastian who hasn’t wiped the look of pure fear off his face yet. I grab my wand off the floor, grab my cloak and bag off the couch and run out of the Undercroft. 

I get back to my dorm, throwing my bag on my bed, my roommate making an annoyed sound at the at the noise. I grab a piece of parchment and write on it. 

Gareth, I’d love to. 

I fold it up and tie it to my owl’s leg. She rustles her father's at being woken up. “Bring this to Gareth.” I whisper. I turn around and fall into my bed, still seething as she stretches her wings and flies out the window.