#true music... has violins...

[wickedhawtwexler]

access to art and music classes should be a human right

[mini-games]

♪ for the ask game

link to the ask game

♪ = What music the character likes

Ooh I really love video game music, and classical music!

I guess the first one is kiiinda predictable, since I'm a Mini-game NPC, but after playing violin for a while I have come to enjoy classical music a lot more. It's especially fun to play!

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Twelve - Beautiful day for a wedding

♡♡♡

The invitation arrived in your mail the very next day. You looked down at the writing of Violet Bridgerton on the letter. Daphne and Simon were to be married the very next day.

Your mother ushered you to the Modiste for a dress. You didn't have time for a new one, so she altered one you owned already. You bought a couple of new accessories and headed home.

You did not get to see the Bridgertons at all.

When you arrived at the church with your mother, you found yourself almost shocked at how few people were present, but you also supposed this was best.

On the duke's side were Lady Danbury and Will and his wife. On Daphne's was her family and you.

Benedict looked up just as you entered and smiled at you. He sat with Colin on a pew behind his mother. You smiled back and found your seat with Hyacinth and Gregory. Hyacinth made Gregory swap seats with her ao she could side beside you.

"Isn't this exciting?" She asks softly.

"Very," you smile.

"Daphne will look so beautiful in her dress," Hyacinth smiles.

"I'm certain of it."

You glance up to see Benedict still looking at you. When your eyes meet his, he turns away to talk to Colin again. You're confused by this strange little exchange, but don't dwell on it.

Violet spots you and waves at you with a smile. You return both gestures, and she turns back to Lady Danbury.

The duke stands quietly at the altar, awaiting his bride. As you look at him, you wonder what he must be thinking. From what you understand, this wasn't exactly ideal, but somehow you know, deep down in his heart, he loves Daphne.

He just needs to admit to himself.

His display to the queen, going by what Violet had said, was the most romantic declaration of love there could have ever been. You knew it had to have been true to some extent.

The sound of the door opening has everyone turning to look. You all rise when you see Anthony and the bride enter. You feel yourself gasp softly as you look at her.

Flawless.

Daphne looked beautiful. She was exactly what a bride should be on her special day. Anthony led her down the aisle. As she passed you, she gave you a small smile. She looked like she was putting on a brave face.

You smiled back and watched her pass.

Simon turns to look at his soon-to-wife. Even he couldn't deny how beautiful she is, surely.

Violet was trying so hard not to cry.

All of Daphne's family looked at her so proudly. This was the bottom she had been waiting for. The moment she would become a wife to the man she loved.

Though she had expected love to be true and pure like her parents had, for she knew the truth behind this wedding.

She practically forced Simon into it.

Anthony smiles at his sister and hands her over to Simon Bassett. The two stand beside each other while Anthony joins his mother at her pew.

You all sit.

The ceremony begins.

Hyacinth holds your hand as you watch the couple. You wonder what both of them are thinking.

They face each other. Simon holds out his hand. Daphne places her in it. He removes her long silk glove with ease. Her hand is now bare to him. He places the ring on her finger. Daphne remembers to breathe.

"I now pronounce you man and wife."

They're married.

♡♡♡

The ball after is full of life and cheer. Upbeat music plays on the violins. Though the wedding was an intimate affair, the ball was for all the ton.

Hyacinth and Gregory chase each other through the party while Daphne speaks to some of the guests.

Penelope tries to help Marina find someone other than Colin Bridgerton to marry. After all, Penelope had been in love with Colin for quite some time, though he was unlikely to view her the same way.

You laugh at something Anthony tells you on the other side of the room. Benedict comes over and looks between the two of you. "Is my brother that funny?"

"Quite, actually." You chuckle.

"At least one of us has charisma," Anthony says sipping his drink.

You laugh in the most unladylike manner and try to cover your mouth. Benedict looks at you in shock and in awe. Anthony smiles and shake his head.

"I never knew you could make such a sound," Benedict teases.

"Neither did I until now." You manage to control your laughter, ignoring anyone looking your way.

"A fascinating woman," he grins.

"I'm full of surprises. Even to myself," you smile.

Benedict looks at you curiously.

"Excuse me," Anthony says, nodding at you both and then taking his leave to catch up with someone.

You turn to Benedict only to catch him staring at someone.

"Benedict?"

"Excuse me..." He walks off but is soon cornered by the man he had seen. You sigh and decide to take a stroll of the room instead.

"A most enjoyable party," Henry Granville says to him.

"Indeed."

"Um, Bridgerton... Um... The other night..."

"What happened the other night?" Benedict asks, pretending he did not know. "I do not believe anything happened at all."

Henry chuckles softly. "Very well." A woman joins them, and Granville smiles. "Ah, dearest... I believe you know Mr. Bridgerton."

Benedict stares at the woman, recognising her from the other night. The pretty woman he enjoyed himself with.

"My wife, Mrs Lucy Granville."

Benedict chokes on his wine.

"It is a pleasure, Mr. Bridgerton." She smiles at him.

He just sips his wine and nods. "Mm."

You catch sight of Daphne staring at her husband, who stands across the room. You find this strange because you were made to believe that newly we'd couples rarely parted from each other on their wedding day. Yet, they were standing so far apart.

You were about to approach Daphne, but Anthony came up beside her. You decide to leave them both alone for now.

The conversation seems short, however, as you catch sight of Daphne fleeing the room moments later.

Violet goes after.

Wedding jitters, perhaps? Not that you would know. Would you ever know?

You find that you have circled the room completely and sigh. Benedict finds his way through the crowd and looks at you. "I apologise for that."

"Something urgent?"

"Well, not exactly. Just saw a face I knew."

"Wonderful. Where you know many faces, I know very few."

Benedict frowns. "Is something the matter?"

"Other than your family and Lady Danbury, I don't really know anyone else. Penelope seems lovely enough, but I do not know her all too well."

Benedict remains confused by you.

"Did something happen?" He asks.

"I have been all but abandoned."

"Nonsense."

You sigh. "Forgive me, I'm just tired. Weddings seem to go on for a while, don't they?"

"Can't say I've been to many."

"Do you think I'll get to experience this one day?" You ask, looking around. "Perhaps not as grand as this, but... you know."

Benedict now looks at you with slight surprise. "Of course, if that is what you want."

"I do want it." You confess quietly. "I'd like to be married one day. Not necessarily to a duke," you chuckle.

Benedict laughs, too.

"But I'd like to be a wife and a mother one day." You watch Hyacinth chase her brother around the guests.

Benedict keeps his gaze on you as he says, "one day it shall be yours."

You smile, keeping your eyes on the youngest two of the Bridgerton family.

Benedict does not drop his gaze from you.

♡♡♡

Violet insists you come them to bid Daphne goodbye as she leaves for her new home. You can only wonder how strange it must be for her to leave a place she calls home.

You stand at the back of the crowd as Daphne says goodbye to her siblings. She even hugs Eloise who looks a little reluctant for her sister to go.

Daphne then turns to you and pulls you into a hug. "Thank you," she whispers.

"What for?"

"Being there." She pulls away to look at you, placing her hands in yours softly.

You smile. "Any time. Write, won't you?"

"Of course. Regularly."

You both smile at each other, and Daphne turns around to climb into the carriage. Simon opens the door for her and climbs in after her. She looks out the window to look at her family and her, now, old home.

You wave along with the others, finding your arm looped with Anthony's as you watch the carriage disappear down the road. When it's gone from sight, Anthony escorts you back inside. Violet gushes about the entire day, and you smile as you go with her to fetch some tea.

With the guests gone, the family can relax. You had been invited to stay behind and keep them company for a while longer, and you agreed.

You sit with Violet and the family as tea is called. Anthony stays a while but then excuses himself. Violet makes a comment about him being unable to leave business even for one day.

A cup of tea is placed on the table beside you. You look up to see Benedict standing beside you with a smile.

You accept the cup and sip it. It's been made the way you like it. Benedict remembered something so mundane about you? Or was it perhaps just chance. You have taken tea with his mother before.

"My daughter, a duchess," Violet sighs happily.

"You must be very proud," you say, smiling.

"Immensly." She sips her tea.

"Daphne looked beautiful," Hyacinth says, smiling at you both from where she sits with Gregory.

"Yes," Violet smiles proudly.

You sip your tea and listen to small babble lf conversation about Daphne and where she will be living now, and what a duchess does. Hyacinth was full of questions.

Eloise slumped down in the seat beside you with a sigh.

"You alright?" You ask. She had a book held tightly to her chest.

"Just glad it's all over." She sighs again.

"Did you not enjoy seeing your sister marry?"

"It's not that. I'm very happy for Daphne and shall miss her tremendously. I'm just tired of all the fuss."

"Will it not be your turn next?" You ask.

"Please don't remind me," she screws her eyes shut and grimaces at the thought.

You chuckle softly and pat her arm gently. "You may change your mind."

"I cannot think of anything worse."

You say no more on the matter. After an hour passes, you take your leave. Your mother would be waiting at home for you. Violet calls for a carriage for you, one of their own. Benedict insists on seeing you out.

You walks down the front steps with him and approaches the carriage. The footman opens the door for you.

"Until next we meet," Benedict smiles at you.

You're about to enter the carriage when you stop and turn to him. "Where do you go at night?" You ask.

Benedict seems to freeze at your question. "Pardon?"

"At night, where do you go?"

His mouth hangs open as he tries to think about how to answer, but you keep talking before he can utter a single word.

"The other night when the duke and Lady Danbury came for dinner, you were not present. I asked Anthony about your whereabouts, but he confessed to not knowing. Not that I expect you all to know each others business all the time, but apparently, you have spent a couple nights away from home now. I am curious. Where do you go?"

Benedict really wasn't sure how to answer. Qould you think poorly of him if he told you the truth.

"Well I--"

"No, never mind. Do not tell me. It was rude of me to ask. I was just curious. Curiosity can be dangerous." You climb up into the carriage.

There's a moment of silence before the footman closes the door. Within seconds the carriage takes off towards your home.

Benedict is left standing there wishing he had said something, anything, to keep you longer.

He watches the carriage leave.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @luckily123345 - @charmainemaclendon

[taking-thyme]

🌅 Lucifer Deity Guide 🌅

Note: This is inspired by both my own experiences with Lucifer and the information I read on @scarletarosa's blog and her devotional guide to him. Please go read that one too!!

The divine rebel, Lucifer is the light of truth and divine wisdom; an ancient light which shines through the darkness, representing illumination. He is the driving force of innovation, liberation and transformation. According to Scarletarosa, who actively works with Lucifer and was told this by him, he was the first-born god of the Universe created by the supreme deity, the Source. He is so incredibly ancient and beautiful. Lilith was created to be his counterpart, the Queen of Heaven. However, Jehovah took the throne of heaven from Lucifer and cast him and his followers into hell. Most of them lost their connection to heaven and their energy became dark and intense. Jehovah claimed the throne of heaven and set himself up as the one true god, manipulating humans into betraying their original deities. Thus, Lucifer became the King of Hell and has been scorned by Christians for millenia. 

God of: Illumination, Light, Darkness, Change, Rebirth, Challenges, Innovation, Logic, Truth, Knowledge, Wisdom, Strategy, Persuasion, Revolution, Luxury, Pleasure, Freedom, The Arts and The Morning Star (“Morning Star” is another name for the planet Venus)

Symbols: Sigil of Lucifer, The Morning Star, Violins and Fiddles (instruments traditionally associated with him)

Plants and Trees: Rose, Belladonna, Mulberry, Patchouli, Myrrh, Min, Tobacco, Marigold, Lilies, Hyacinth, Sage

Crystals: Amethyst, Black Obsidian, Onyx, Garnet, Selenite, Rose Quartz

Animals: Black Animals in general, Dragons, Snakes, Owls, Eagles, Ravens, Crows, Rams, Foxes, Pigs,  Bats, Rats, Moths, Swans

Incense: Rose, Frankincense, Patchouli, Myrrh

Colors: Black, Red, Silver, Emerald Green, Gold

Tarot: The Devil

Planets: The Morning Star, Venus

Day: Monday and Friday

Consort: Lilith

Children: Naema, Aetherea and many others

How was he traditionally worshipped?

There is not much to say about how Lucifer was historically worshiped seeing as he wasn’t worshiped at all for a large chunk of human history. He seems to have been worked with in some capacity according to the Gesta Treverorum, written in 1231, which is where we first see the term Luciferian being used to refer to his worship. This was by a woman named Lucardis for a religious circle, who was said to lament to Lucifer in private and prayed to him. However, the term Luciferians was later applied to basically any groups Christians didn’t like and wanted to fight, as one might expect. However, the modern Luciferian movement also sheds light on how Lucifer is worshiped. For Luciferians, enlightenment is the ultimate goal. Their basic principles highlight truth, freedom of will and fulfilling one’s ultimate potential, and encourage the same in all of us. Traditional dogma is shunned because Luciferians believe that humans do not need deities or the threat of eternal punishment to know what is good and the right thing to do. All ideas are to be tested before being accepted, and even then one should remain critical because knowledge is fluid and ever-changing. Regardless of whether Luciferians view Lucifer as a deity or an archetype, he is a representation of ultimate illumination and exploration in the name of personal growth. 

Epithets

Phanes

The Morning Star

Light-bringer

The First-born

Prince of Darkness

Son of Morning

The Glory of Morning

Lord of the Lunar Sphere

The First Light

Offerings

Red Wine, Whiskey (especially Jack Daniels), Champagne, Pomegranate Juice, Black Tea (especially earl grey), Chocolate (especially dark chocolate), Cooked Goat Meat, Venison, Apples, Pomegranates, Honey, Good Quality Cigars, Tobacco, Daggers and Swords, Silver Rings, Emeralds and Emerald Jewelry, Goat Horns, Black Feathers, Seductive Colognes, Red Roses, Dead Roses, Crow Skulls, Bone Dice, Devotional Poetry and Artwork, Classical Music (especially violin)

Devotional Acts

Acts of self-improvement, spiritual awakening and evolution, knowledge-seeking and dedication to spirituality ; Shadow Work ; Working to overcome your ego to become wiser ; Defending those in need ; Working to better yourself without being too self critical ; Fighting against tyranny and bigotry whenever you encounter it

Altar Decorations

Black or Red Candles, Snake and Dragon Figurines, His sigil, Roses, Fancy Chess Boards and Playing Cards, Silver Jewlery and ornaments, Black feathers, Goat horns

Appearance

For me Lucifer usually appears as a tall light-skinned man with long fiery red hair (so red it looks like it’s been dyed), a sophisticated face with a killer jawline, passionate eyes and dressed in a fancy black suit. From all my experiences with him and what I’ve heard from other followers, it seems Lucifer and most demons dress in full suits and tuxedos. 

Personality

Lucifer is nothing if not charming. He’s a protector first and foremost - one that always works to help you better yourself, but a protector nonetheless. He feels like a protective older brother taking care of you while your parents are away. He is a very complex entity, deeply wise and eloquent. He is more serious than one might expect for a demon given their popular depictions in our culture as chaotic forces of evil, but Lucifer is full of courage and love. I often feel him with me even when I’m not doing things related to him. He is proud of his follower’s accomplishments and congratulates them on a job well done, though he also reminds them that the job is never truly over. Growth is constant. Lucifer is the epitome of growth, blunt and gentle at the same time, telling you what you need to do and giving you space to figure out how to do it. 

Lucifer values resilience, the pursuit of self-betterment, intellectualism, courage, open-mindedness and responsibility in individuals and wants to see his followers develop these qualities. He is constantly rooting for you to reach your full potential. He won’t hold your hand the entire way, but he will help you take steps in the right direction. Lucifer, like all deities, is different for everyone and will adjust his approach depending on your needs.

^ The Sigil of Lucifer

[partycatty]

Right hear me out on the new johnny skin

Please can you write something for this ugly bitch the shock worn off and now im delusional

(Im sorry for asking for this he just looks so stupid i couldnt not)

I HATE YOU FOR REMINDING ME OF THIS ALLGAHJGIAKG

johnny cage > carrot

oh my god he looks like a carrot

warnings: look at him.

[ masterlist ]

you're sitting on johnny's couch, as it's become a regular occurrence for you to waste your time in his home. your phone becomes your best friend nearly every time, as his career of being a celebrity commonly rips his attention from you more than you're happy with. your bubbling frustration with the situation dies down when you hear his front door unlock.

"babe," he calls through the cracked door. his voice is high pitched, like he's hiding something and ashamed about it. "i-i need you to do me a favor."

"yeah?" you reply, eyes still transfixed on your phone for the moment.

"i lost a bet," he shamefully admits. "and i need you to not laugh. if you laugh, i will die."

"you'll die?" you repeat, now intrigued by whatever he's on about. he falls silent, the door barely opening more.

"baby," he tries to sound sweet but it sounds closer to him being on the verge of tears. "is it true... that thing... where like, you lose feelings if your man gets one bad haircut?"

oh, no.

"depends," you shrug, making your way to the door. "if you buzzed it, i won't be able to look at you until it grows back."

"i didn't... buzz it," he mutters. "it's... please don't laugh."

his dodging is starting to confuse and annoy you, so you walk over and pull the door completely open. the sight in front of you pulls a horrified gasp, which then turns into amusement like you've never seen. johnny's hair was gone on the sides, and a vomit-green wisp sat on top. johnny frowns with large eyes. it kind of reminds you of that really sad hamster meme. maybe if you focused enough you could imagine sad violin music at the scene.

"jo—" your attempt at saying his name comfortingly is ripped apart when a snort creeps up on you, and you slap a hand over your mouth. tears well up in your eyes as you fight for your life to not laugh.

"don't," he pleads, arms flopping to his sides. "don't laugh."

you let out a cackle through your hand, slapping another hand over it in a stupid attempt to hold it in.

"it's not funny—" in a while, you think, it wouldn't be. sure, he has the haircut, but you're the one looking at it regularly. "it's not funny."

"you're laughing. i will die."

"how in the genuine fuck did this come to be." your eyes feel like they're going to pop out of your skull from straining yourself so hard. johnny can't even look at you as he explains.

"kung lao and i made a bet that i could cut more fruit than him with his hat."

"you bet your appearance on a hat that's not yours."

"it didn't look that hard! it's a sharp hat!"

"okay, so how did the... haircut come to be??"

"he..." johnny rubs his face, groaning. "he had me walk into a barber and told the guy to fuck my shit up. he said that to the barber. oh my god i look like an idiot, don't i."

"you..." you search for something, anything to compliment him on. your eyes settle on his orange button-up and you stifle a snort. "you kind of look like a carrot."

johnny pulls his head up to meet your eyes. "what."

"it's... it's kinda cute," you murmur with the most strained grin of your life. you step forward and grab the entirety of the hair left on his head, tugging upward. "it's like... plucking you from the soil."

"ow. you're an asshole," he adds, not entirely serious. you try so hard to keep it together, so hard. but his furrowed brows, frown, and carrot-coordinated outfit finally make you snap. you double over in laughter, similar to a hyena. it is quite literally the funniest thing you'd ever seen in your entire life and you laugh so hard you lose your breath.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" johnny pouts, stomping his foot and crossing his arms while you howl and slap him around as you try to ground yourself. "I LOOK LIKE A DUMBASS."

"OH MY GOD I'M LOSING IT, I'M GONNA THROW UP— YOU LOOK LIKE A CARROT —"

"STOP SAYING THAT."

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me

(Spawn Astarion x F! Ghost Reader) : Prologue

Synopsis: You’ve haunted Szarr Palace for 354 years after Donella Szarr failed to turn you into a spawn. You have favored Astarion over the other spawn for the last two centuries and after a series of events and a Paul Revere-esque mission to save him from being kidnapped- you finally meet each other in the flesh.

CW: Death (obviously), mentions of Astarion’s trauma, mentions of Gore, mentions of Gale x Tav

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie is a stock image 💜 I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @aristenfromwarsaw . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.

Chapter One : AO3

Your paws hit the pavement as you frantically search for Elfsong Tavern. You haven’t left Szarr Palace since you died there so many years ago- you didn’t even know what the Hells an Elfsong Tavern was until Dalyria had told Cazador that was where Astarion was staying.

It’s still just before sunset so there is still plenty of time to warn the group about the upcoming kidnapping attempt- you just hope one of them is a Druid.

You aren’t naturally a cat- you’re a ghost and you’ve been haunting Szarr Palace since Donella Szarr killed you what feels like eons ago. You had been merely walking home one evening from a Violin gig you had barely managed to get- it had gone so well that they had asked you to come back and play next week. Oh how life had other plans for poor 28-year-old you who made her entire life about music and died never experiencing romance, true companionship, etc. You had grown up isolated amongst nobles, but you knew of Donella Szarr so her asking you to have tea with her didn’t seem that bizarre.

Needless to say- it was weird watching your own funeral.

No matter how hard you tried, you could never cross over and Gods did you want to. You didn’t even care if you became incorporeal or went on to the Heavens- you just wanted to be able to actually talk to people and do things again. You were incredibly apathetic and haunting with no purpose. You’re a house ghost who has no say over the house- you can’t even help fix things in the damn place without asking to be exorcised.

Your misery was reduced significantly a little over 140 years later when Astarion Acunin experienced his first night in Cazador’s kennels. His screams haunted you and you are the one who is supposed to be doing the haunting!

You did everything you could to try to make his time with Cazador somewhat bearable, but your efforts were too small and you feel as if you failed him. You tried to possess Cazador and it went miserably- you had almost been consumed by the darkness in him entirely. You had been a mere fly to his soul.

You were able to possess Godey easily enough, but you had to be careful because he has sent Cazador on a multitude of Ghost hunts before.

Astarion knew you were around- he’d acknowledge you as ‘Ghosty’ whenever his candle would flicker out and then come back full force for him to finish sewing his clothing. He could sense your presence at other times too- one time you had been certain he was able to see you as you sat with him for the duration of Cazador’s ‘poem’.

You favor Astarion over the other spawn, but you have come to justify it as Astarion was the one who needed your help more. He was frequently the subject of Cazador’s rage and need for violence. You know it’s because he resembles Vellioth to some extent and you are certain that’s why he targeted Astarion in the first place.

Cazador introduced himself to Astarion when he was a young magistrate. It had been at one of his many lavish affairs and you had seen the menacing glint in Cazador’s eyes when the young man walked in with some over the top female on his arm.

Cazador asked Astarion to begin convicting people wrongfully and sending them to Szarr Palace. He offered a handsome amount of gold and Astarion took the offer without a thought. You immediately knew this man had signed over his soul- knowingly or unknowingly, you had no idea.

Things became even messier when Cazador began to have the closest thing to love he could feel for the young magistrate. Astarion was very intelligent- he wasn’t charismatic naturally, but he knew how to study behavior and work around it. He knew what Cazador wanted to hear.

So when Cazador found out Astarion had taken another deal on the side as well as potentially a more formal lover, well, he had signed over his fate. Cazador framed a Gur Hunter, Astarion sent him to the other group of slavers instead of Cazador, and Cazador let the Gur know this anonymously ‘in good faith’.

At first you thought it was just karma doing it’s work, but then you learned that Astarion was just another young person like you who was just trying to figure it out. Where you thought you were doing your duty by meeting with a noble, he felt he was doing his- at first at least. He had been sending a reasonable sum of money back home to his parents, but he became greedy and ended up paying for that with a life sentence.

Some higher power must be merciful because it had seemed that Astarion had managed to escape Cazador for good.

Then the moron decided to come back and now Cazador is sending Leon after him with three of the other house spawn.

You don’t care for possessing any living soul- a tacky couch? Maybe, but only because it doesn’t have thoughts. However, desperate times called for desperate measures and you are really regretting not getting the gumption to possess a person.

You are far too cute with your fluffy grey and white fur and big green eyes. People keep trying to scoop you up in their arms and children chase after you. Other cats are just plain rude and unhelpful- you have no idea how you are going to find this Tavern.

“You seem rather lost, little ghost,” a voice says from a nearby tree.

You peer upwards to see a Calico Tressym eyeing you curiously. If you weren’t so focused on finding Astarion, maybe you would be mad at her for openly announcing you are a ghost.

“I’m looking for someone,” you say as you try to catch your breath, “I need to get to Elfsong Tavern as soon as possible.”

This seems to interest the Tressym because she immediately jumps down with a serious expression on her face.

“Who and why?”

Screw it- you don’t have time to be picky.

“I’m looking for a man named Astarion- his life is in danger,” you say quickly.

She seems to digest this information for a moment as she circles you. Her eyes explore your fluffy form and she seems to decide you are trustworthy because she beckons for you to follow her.

You race after her as she flies over the buildings and lands- wait, why is she landing in front of that man in purple on the beach!? That’s not Astarion or a Tavern!

In spite of your confusion, your gut pushes you forward and before you know it- the man you are looking for comes waltzing out of a house with a disgusted look on his face while a tall, red tiefling woman holds a very old heart in a jar.

“Astarion,” the man, Gale, tries not to make his own panic too obvious, “come here.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that to interest me, Gale,” he says with an emphasis on the man’s name, “why should I?”

“For God’s sake- it’s about Cazador,” the man hisses.

This grabs his and his other three companion’s attention. They immediately huddle around Gale- the silver haired woman immediately aweing upon seeing you and the blonde haired woman intertwining her hands with Gale’s. The red tiefling is still holding the heart and you gag upon seeing it which earns a laugh from the group.

“What about Cazador?”

Astarion’s voice betrays the panic he’s feeling- for whatever reason, his panic prompts him to scratch you between your ears. You fight the urge to purr. You are a person- dammit! A dead one, but a person nonetheless!

“This Ghost,” Gale says with uncertainty while pointing to you, “is saying that Cazador is sending Leon, Aurelia, Yousen, and Violet later tonight to detain you.”

“She was practically barreling through streets- poor thing was about to experience her second death,” adds Tara.

“Apparently it was a suicide mission,” Gale adds.

You are suddenly lifted up from underneath your arms and a pair of ruby red eyes are boring into yours. After a few moments, a giggle of all damn things exits this man’s mouth.

“There are at least five or six useless thralls you could have possessed and you chose a cat?”

You flatten your ears and leer at him before attempting to communicate with him- only to be disappointed when an angry yowl leaves your little mouth. Astarion fucking giggles again. THIS IS SERIOUS!

“This is far more adorable though, I will give you that,” Astarion says as he begins to walk towards the tavern with you now cradled in his arms.

You never would have found the damn place on your own. It was clear on the other side of the city!

“It’s a shame I can’t understand you a single bit,” Astarion says, “I would love to know how Cazador has been fairing without me there.”

Terribly, but in a crazed, rage filled way. Unfortunately poor Dalyria and Petras had been receiving the treatment usually reserved for Astarion. You were happy to see him thriving, but it does make you sad that it had to cost two other people’s dignity and comfort.

The moment the party enters the room and announces that they are anticipating an attack once the sun sets, everyone jumps up and prepares themselves for the coming battle.

Astarion places you on his bed before grabbing a green bottle and chugging it. He then proceeds to look at you expectantly and you have no idea what he is doing, but it’s starting to kind of freak you out because neither one of you is blinking and he’s beginning to look more and more like the predator he is.

“I don’t think I like this game,” you say, “you look rather terrifying when you don’t blink for long periods of time.”

“Oh, but terrifying is what I aim to be, Darling,” Astarion says with a toothy grin, “I don’t want any of them reporting to Cazador that I’m still the pathetic vampire spawn I was before I went missing.”

“You were never pathetic,” the words come out of your mouth harshly, “and if you must know- they are reporting to Cazador that you practically have a whole army of ‘do gooders’ by your side.”

“Oh really? Do tell me, how does that make him feel?”

“He was surprised at first.”

“Naturally.”

“But then he heard about Orin’s death and your part in it- he’s worried, to say the least.”

“Good,” Astarion snarls, “he should be.”

The siblings arrive exactly when you said they would and they are surprised to see everyone prepared to see them. You are absolutely floored when Astarion tries to convince them that he’ll ascend all of them- he has to know by now that that is not what this ritual will do. You notice the uneasy glances between Astarion’s companions.

If they really are the heroes Dalyria made them out to be, will they truly let him ascend without contest?

There wasn’t time for any questions as the other spawn rush the group. You did manage to help in the fight- Astarion was being cornered by Violet and Leon so you took it upon yourself to wreak havoc upon Violet’s scalp. She went back home pretty quickly and Astarion was able to take on Leon with ease.

Now you sit in front of a big window and take in the moon. Your heart breaks for the 7,000 souls beneath Szarr Palace and the six other house spawn. Poor little Victoria had finally been taken away from the city and replaced with someone else- Leon promised he’d come find her. Gods you hope she doesn’t think Leon purposefully abandoned her. She’s a great kid.

“You seem to be thinking rather hard for a cat.”

“You lied to them.”

The silence between you is deafening before you finally look up at him. Astarion’s face is conflicted and guarded as he searches your features for any indication of what you are feeling. Cats aren’t terribly expressive apparently.

“Don’t give me that disappointed ‘I’m not getting cuddly, Astarion’ look!”

You feel your hackles raise slightly and your tail get puffy as you get up on your feet. You narrow your eyes at Astarion and he meets yours with equal amounts of stubbornness.

“I’ll give you this look for the rest of your damn life if that’s what it’s going to take!” You exclaim, “you can’t kill them! They have suffered too! Dalyria and Petras both tried to keep as much information as they could about you and your companions so that you stood a chance against him! Leon just wants to be with Victoria as a free man!

“The rest of them… they think it’s going to free them… they are all talking about what they want to do with their lives after this,” you say with anger and sadness in your voice, “You can’t take that from them.Their lives are not yours to take!”

“I hate to disappoint you,” Astarion says with venom lacing his words, “but I could care less about what they went through and their wants or their souls for that matter. No one was there for me, well besides you, but not everyone is an overly friendly Ghost like you.”

Your eyes become blurry and Astarion’s face goes from anger to shock and confusion. It takes a moment to collect yourself, but when you do- you make sure to say exactly what you are thinking.

“It makes me sad.”

“What does?”

“That you ended up being no better than Cazador,” you say flatly, “I thought I saw some redeeming qualities in you. I guess I was wrong.”

You watch it take all of his willpower not to snap your neck right there or pick you up and chuck you against the wall. The woman, Karlach, seems to notice his sudden shift in energy because she’s quickly walking over and scooping you up off the windowsill.

“You look like you need to take a breather, Fangs,” Karlach chuckles awkwardly, “maybe you should go hunting. We’ll be leaving to storm the castle before you know it.”

So he does and Karlach takes you over to her bed.

“That was awfully harsh, Boo,” Karlach says, “a gentler touch may have been better.”

“Karlach, I’ve been a ghost for almost 400 years. I have been forced to watch either Donella, Vellioth, or Cazador terrorize handfuls of people,” you shake your head, “Cazador is the worst of the worst- he’s terrorized over 7,000 people at this point and that ritual will kill all of them. Yet the soul I’m most upset about losing is Astarion’s.

“So yes, it was harsh, but it needed to be said.”

Karlach is quiet for a moment, “I suppose that’s true… but 7,000 people? I thought there were only 7 vampire spawn?”

“What? Who in the hells told you that?”

“Fangs- obviously.”

Oh right, he wouldn’t know that every person he’s ever shared a bed with is rotting away, starving in Cazador’s dungeon.

“No,” you say softly, “unfortunately there is a lot more going on than Astarion knows.”

**********************************************************************

Astarion is the first through the door when the group comes back from Szarr Palace. You have been sitting on Karlach’s bed the entire time- pacing anxiously. Scratch and the Owlbear cub would ask you to play with them, but you couldn’t get rid of the twisting knot in your stomach.

He goes to his bed and grabs a new change of clothes before weakly walking in the direction of the washroom. Karlach makes eye contact with you when she walks through the doors and she gives you a big smile.

Wait, does that mean?

She follows it with a thumbs up.

He didn’t do it. Holy Gods he didn’t do it! BUT WHY!?

You have a million questions, but you’re sure he doesn’t want to talk to you anytime soon. You bid a farewell to Karlach and the other companions. She tries to convince you to stay and talk to Astarion before deciding to leave, but you merely shake your head. You said your piece and you can return to haunting a now empty castle.

Or maybe you’ll be a cat around Baldur’s Gate. Tara seems to enjoy wandering around and you did forget how lovely the sun feels.

The walk back to Szarr Palace goes far smoother than your adventure finding Elfsong Tavern. The courtyard is still in bloom so the scent of red roses acts as your guide. Gods- Cazador was such a cliché. You hope these roses die and someone decides to plant literally anything else. Maybe you could figure out how to? You can dig hypothetically.

So that’s what you do. You begin digging out the crap ass red roses and do your best not to get caught on thorns. After the fourth or fifth rose, you have it down to a science and you’ve gotten quite a lot of work done on one flower bed. This cat thing isn’t all that bad!

Well, minus your excessive need for water and food, but there’s a running fountain nearby so that’s promising. The food part is going to be the harder part. You haven’t had to eat for centuries now and the growling in your belly is entirely foreign to you.

Should you try to steal food? Honestly, you’re adorable enough, you could probably beg for some food. Trying to hunt for a mouse is absolutely off the table and forget a bird all together.

You look up at the sky. The last bits of daylight cling to the horizon and the moon begins to kiss the sky. You are going to keep working until the sun has set, you’ll attempt to clean up, and then you'll sucker some people into giving you food.

Back to digging it is!

You continue your work and think about what you may plant. Maybe you could find seeds for food- there are plenty of homeless who could use it, but would they dare go to Szarr Palace for produce? The idea makes you snort. Donella would be infuriated if you turned the front of her “work of art” into a free farmer’s market for the needy.

“Are you taking up gardening now? I think it suits you,” a familiar voice says, “well, maybe more so if you were actually a person and not a cat.”

You slowly turn around and you’re met with the sight of a sheepish Astarion. He absentmindedly plays with his own hands, but you are happy to see some of the tension melt away when he sees your face and begins laughing.

“You are caked in dirt, Darling.”

“I would hope so- if this is something else then I have a real problem on my hands.”

“Ha!” Astarion says, “I don’t think you have any reason to fret. I can’t remember the last time Cazador had anyone tend to these stupid things.”

“Oh he didn’t have to,” you say in exasperation, “Donella enchanted the damn pots so that the plants can grow without soil. She hated the smell of fertilizer.”

“Donella?”

You blink at Astarion two times and tilt your head to the side.

“Cazador never mentioned his aunt?”

“Does this look like the face of a person who knows about Cazador’s aunt?”

“Put your sass back in your pockets, Mister,” you say with equal amounts of attitude, “Donella Szarr was the first Vampire Lord in Baldur’s Gate. She created Vellioth and well, you know how well that all went.”

“But how do you know Donella?”

“She killed me,” you say bluntly, “she took advantage of my naivety. She thought I was a promising young woman and she was very anti-patriarchy which I did really appreciate. However, she invited me over to tea to discuss a potential job offer at a party of her’s. She didn’t know how to properly create a spawn so when she drained me dry and I never popped back up- she realized she made a terrible mistake.

“Not because she cared about me, but because my parents were relatively prominent in the community.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Hmmm… well I was born in 1,110 then Donella killed me at the beginning of her dynasty in 1,138 sooooooo about,” you think so hard your ears begin to twitch, math was never your strong suit, “354 years ago.”

“Good Gods, you’ve been trapped in this damn place longer than I have. Why in the hells would you come back?”

That is a good question- why did you come back? You suppose it’s because at one point you were attached to this house and it made you uncomfortable to be away from it for longer than eight hours at a time, but that’s dissipated. You didn’t realize your attachment had changed to a person- the vampire spawn asking the question- until he disappeared and you felt like you did the one time you tried to stay away from Szarr Palace. It had weakened you significantly, but now that you’re a cat, that attachment isn’t there and you are free to go about your silly little business.

You also don’t know where else you would go. It’s not like staying in the Rothwell crypt is going to do wonders for your mental health and going back to haunting this palace means you’ll feel uncomfortable again until you are reattached.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you admit, “so I came back to the only place I know. I think I might piss on Donella’s legacy by making this a community garden to feed the homeless. She’ll be infuriated- rolling over in her urn.”

Astarion snorts, “your idea of revenge is helping the needy? Gods, you’re insufferable.”

“What would you suggest then?” You retort, “I can’t imagine it will be easy finding seeds for anything worth planting. Unless you can hook me up with some sunflo-.”

“What if you traveled with me instead?” Astarion interrupts you.

Oh.

You blink a lot and your jaw has dropped. The happiness spreading through your body makes your paws tingle with excitement.

What an exhilarating concept. However, there must be a catch.

“You just said I was insufferable.”

“Just because I asked you to travel with me doesn’t make that any less true,” Astarion says, “but I’ve rather enjoyed your silent company over the past two centuries, I’m sure I’ll get used to the eccentricities of a ghost cat.”

“It’s quite a generous offer,” you say slowly, “why do you want me to travel with you?”

Astarion looks positively exasperated by your onslaught of questions.

“I would like to remind you that the last time I trusted a vampire- I died!”

“I suppose that’s fair,” he says with a sigh, “for a noble and a bard, you certainly aren’t one for mincing words.

“I was conflicted about ascending. No one was really giving me a reason not to because no one wanted to upset me. You, on the other hand, humbled me,” he says with a shrug, “and the lack of haunting I’ve experienced over the past several months has been absolutely terrible, Darling. I can’t keep a candle going as bright as you do to save my life.”

He says the last part with flourish and embellishment followed by an awkward cough.

You look to the roses and the garden bed then back to Astarion. It’s a much more fun idea- going with Astarion. It would be safer to remain here, but your life was cut so short so long ago. What if you could find a solution to become a person again? What if you could have the life you’ve always wanted?

“Okay.”

“Okay meaning?”

“I accept your invitation to travel with you.”

You are being scooped up from underneath your armpits again and Astarion holds you at arm's length. You flatten your ears and look at him unenthusiastically. Maybe you made a mistake.

“Wonderful! Now let’s get you cleaned up- you are positively disgusting right now.”

“You really know how to make a ghost feel special.”

Astarion wipes off the dirt using water from the fountain and a handkerchief before picking you back up and heading towards the cemetery.

“There’s something I need to do before we go back.”

He sets you down on the ground and you are surprised to see that you have arrived at his own grave. He remarks the grave as a symbol of his new life and you pluck a flower to drop on his grave. Astarion scratches you in between your ears and laughs as you chastise yourself for purring.

As you walk through the cemetary, you see another familiar name.

“That’s my family’s crypt!”

You sprint to the door and Astarion looks around for any clerics of Kelemvor before picking the lock. You bound down the stairs and Astarion is close behind you with a flame for light in his hands.

Your mother and father are there. It’s odd that your mother lived a much shorter life than your father considering she’s an elf. It looks like your father remarried and you have half siblings.

“Is this you?”

You look over to where Astarion is standing and sure enough- a plaque on a tomb reads, “Here lies Althaeastra ‘Birdie’ Rothwell. Beloved daughter, talented violinist, and the kindest soul this world had the privilege of knowing. We love and miss you forever and always. Kythorn 22, 1,110 to Alturiak 8th, 1,138’.

Your father’s tomb reads specifically, “Birdie’s Father” and your mother’s has, “Birdie’s Mother.” You had been their only child and you had been everything to them.

“Yeah,” you say sadly, “that’s me.”

Upon further investigation, you find that your mother had set your childhood home on fire after drinking too much. She died in the fire because she didn’t try to leave the house. Your poor father must have been devastated.

Your siblings are still alive, but you don’t have any desire to get to know them. That ship sailed a long time ago.

“I’m ready to go,” you say as evenly as you can, “I’m starving!”

You bound up the steps before he can say anything and you are grateful for the fresh air that fills your lungs. At least now you know what became of your family while you’ve been trapped in Szarr palace.

The walk back to Elfsong is quiet and the two of you sit by the windowsill and watch the world go by as the Tavern goers cheer and laugh. All of Astarion’s companions are fast asleep and your eyelids are feeling droopy following the chicken Astarion had managed to steal for you.

“So you’re a cat named Birdie?”

“No, I’m a ghost possessing a cat and my name is Birdie,” you say pointedly with a big yawn, “and I only go by Birdie because my first name is a monstrosity my grandmother insisted I have. I began singing before I began talking so my parents called me Birdie.”

“There’s no reason to argue semantics, Darling,” Astarion says with a dismissive wave of his hand, “no reason to get defensive. Truly adorable story though.”

You roll your eyes before laying your head down to fall asleep. You don’t protest when Astarion picks you up and sets you down to sleep on his bed. He scratches behind your ears before he also lays down on the bed with his book in one hand and his other petting you until you fall asleep.

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Additional Note: I didn’t think this concept would be received so well! Thank you so much for everyone’s kind words, like, and reblogs 💜 I am out of town, but I will probably end up posting the next chapter because I’m excited and I love Birdie and Astarion.

[shuenkio]

Kissing I hope they catch us | 💋

Paring: Whipped!Sunghoon x m!reader

Genre: fluffy, very fluffy?

Cw: just a pure hidden feeling.

Summary: He wants to brag about you to the whole campus.

Non proof read.

Words: 1.2k

English is not my first language!

Being friends with Sunghoon was not an easy move, since he's quite popular because of his charm, especially his face. You'll also find him very attractive as a boy yourself; he looks cold on the outside, but all his friends have said otherwise. He's actually timid, which gives you another reason to get close to him even more; curiosity could kill the cat, they say. 

 

He's the heartthrob of the campus; whenever he walks, he can grab all the attention with his presence. Why would he be a college student when he could make millions of bucks by posing in front of the camera? 

 

Later on, as the times passed, you decided to experience new things by joining a club, and it's a music club. You've always been passionate about it; you love singing and playing instruments such as the piano, electric guitar, and violin. Not only that, you're also fond of dancing, based on the club's requirements. 

 

You're thinking students would choose other clubs besides music because it's less popular. And there's more thrilling, excited, and amazing clubs out there than just playing an instrument while singing. 

 

You open the music club room to fill out your application, but not until your gaze lands on someone you've always wanted to say hi to, Sunghoon Park. 

 

Despite being stunned on the spot at the doorway, you, yourself, have already grabbed everyone's eyes toward you. In return, Sunghoon moved his lip muscle, smiling softly at you. 

 

You snap out before dragging your feet to the leader, known as Jungwon. He was a friendly student, though; you know him since he's the same year as you. He will take your paper and inspect your answers. While he's busy, he then introduces you to the other members who are standing there doing nothing.

 

You move shyly, greeting them by asking for a handshake. It was normal with the other; nevertheless, when your hand lands on Sunghoon's palm, you find yourself on the edge of exploding. Why is his hand so cold yet so calm? A red blurry blush spread across your face; you couldn't help it at the moment; you've met the campus's celebrity. They wouldn't lie when they said Sunghoon is an iceman on the outside, because in reality, he's friendly and talkative to those who approach him first. 

 

And since then, the music club has been completed with you. The name of the group is "ENH." Connection and passion mixed together created a temporary group of artists. 

 

Hanging out was not enough; Jungwon wanted everyone to stick together always, so he asked us to move into his mansion that his grandparents left just for him. 

Your mind was blown to the fact, surprised at his statement, but you wouldn't mind making music together without leaving anyone. 

 

To do that, you have to get close with them first, get more comfortable with them, and have a conversation with them in order to grow closer so you won't be awkward with your surroundings. It's also beneficial for the charming guy since he's timid. 

 

Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. By breathing in the same air, you regret your decision to befriend Sunghoon, whom you thought was an angel on the inside. As a matter of fact, once he got comfortable with you, he began to show his true color. Not only is he wild, but he's also a really loud introvert you've never seen in your entire life. 

 

He said, "I don't like skin ships, eh?" That was back in the day, as you asked him, and in reality, he's super duper clingy like Golden Retriever, but in a calmer version.

He only acts crazy when you're alone with him. He would randomly hug you back, cuddle in the same bed, take care of you secretly, and give you cheeks a kiss out of the blue with his non-sense mumble, "Just because.". 

 

You're also finding those very weird; you don't go and question him about whether he likes you by making sweet gestures like friends would; however, his signals and behavior speak a different language as he keeps getting more and more suspicious. 

 

You gather the courage to speak to him personally, somewhere private, one day. Randomly, you asked him to meet you at the music club room since all the other members were already running for their schedules, leaving only him and you on campus, having a free period, coincidentally. 

 

While waiting for him, you take a seat as you move your fingertip, tapping the piano note as far as you remember, and playing an elegant song by" by ENH.

 

As you trace down your palm, still focus on playing until you finish with the last final note. When you heard a clapping sound behind your back, You turn your head to the sauce, revealing Sunghoon, who was standing with a bubbly grin on his handsome face. 

 

"Bravo teddy bear, that was incredible."

He moved his feet to your place, and he then pressed a big hug as a greeting. 

 

"You said you wanted to ask me something private?" He said, pulling out of the embrace slowly, looking at you with his lovely eyes, as if you were the most precious thing ever. 

You take a deep breath and assemble your strength to ask him about your soaking thought that had no answer.

 

"Would you be mad if I went straight to the point?" You spoke, throwing your hands together at the back. He raised one of his eyebrows in return, oblivious to your question.

 

"Why would I be mad at someone as cute as you, Mn? Go on, hit me  up." He replies without any awkwardness, giggling under his throat at what will come at him as you have a flashback to the time when he couldn't even ask you to pass the water. 

 

"Did you like me or not? I don't care what you would think of me as gay or whatever, but I want a real answer." You stated that you were seeking his answer to your unanswered. 

Sunghoon was rubbing his chin and pouting his lip before he unexpectedly took a quick peek at your lip. 

 

"This should be enough for you; don't be afraid to tell me if you want more. Details." He folded his hand after he left, and you zipped your mouth. He careless his lip, still having those quick kisses against your pretty kissable lip. 

 

You're standing there, unable to move an inch; not only has he left you shocked, he's also left you hanging still. Is he playing with you or is this for real? 

 

"Y-you... Hmm... So you like me? How much? Don't tell me you are playing with my feelings!" Concerned about your own feelings, his quick kiss is still fresh on your lips, but you brush it off as you mumble again. This feels untrue in no way.

 

"If I say I'm actually obsessed with you, would you believe it?" 

 

"...hell nah" 

 

"Exactly. You won't believe it, although I want to shout at the whole school that you're my boyfriend."

 

"What are you saying, Hyung? Don't joke with me!!" Your face was catching fire at the moment, processing the words that left his mouth. There's no way he likes you, yet his gesture already proves it. 

 

"Whenever they like it or not, I want to show you off that I want you to be my boyfriend!! I want to brag to everyone about you, Teddy Bear." 

 

"Please accept my love, I—like—you, and I'm sorry~ ijbol." 

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥🗣️ bare with me with this one 😔👊 I suddenly write this when I heard Agora hill, no plan. Fluffy Sunghoon fic let's go 🫨

🗣️ crd to all pic&dividers especially anitalenia for dividers!

[hwanchaesong]

↗🏢 Entering 3rd floor: One more and two more. Losing and winning. Bets and money thrown away like rags but nothing matters when the prize is on his lap. 🌌

🎧: Chase Atlantic - Obsessive

wc: 1.3k

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, suggestive, chaebol au, cursing, a game of poker (inaccurate representation), themes of luxury and higher society, a steamy kiss, mentions of marriage etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Paradise Hotel series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

Heart racing faster every time a second ticks away in the vintage wooden clock displayed in the corner of the luxurious room. 

The smoke that some bystanders blow somehow makes it harder for you to breathe, and maybe, you should’ve cut off the wine while you had the chance because it is now making your head dizzy.

Your eyes traveled to the dashing, well-dressed man seated in front of you, a hand on his chin like he’s thinking of something deep. His own orbs are focused on the table, more precisely, at the laid flop cards. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his feigned contemplation, rationality is not a trait of his, but rather his enemy. Impulsivity and arrogance are his friends, which is about to show themselves when the male makes eye contact with you, a devilish smirk on his glossy lips. 

“To make this dull game interesting,” he mutters confidently, his hands going over the plethora of purple and yellow chips, “let's raise the stakes.”

Multiple gasps were heard, the people who are watching the ongoing match of poker are in awe at the bold move. Surely, gambling a whopping 10,000 dollars is not a joke. You’re either crazy or poised, no in-between. 

The thing is, Beomgyu still has more money to bet, but the amount that he waged is all that you have.

You squint your eyes at him when he motioned for you to make your move. Oh, he’s playing a damning game, but you are a lioness yourself. Backing down from a challenge is not the right way to end your night. 

“I’ll take you on that.” you said, sliding your remaining chips in the middle of the table, "Call. All in."

The tension is palpable which can only be cut off with a saw, and you can’t help but regret meeting this vexing man in such a place.

It was supposed to be your getaway from the busy training life that you live in, being an heir for one of the largest corporations of the country isn’t exactly ideal, like what everyone says.

“You are one lucky child!”

“I wish I’m living the life you have.”

Fuck all that. Where’s the luck? And how dare they think that being born in an extravagant family equates to a happy one. 

You are nothing but a tool for them to make their company larger, bigger, and be the number one. A trophy that they can show around. Intelligent, beautiful, and manners as elegant as a swan, the perfect daughter that can make anyone swoon. 

But you despise the mask that you have to put on every time you face the crowd, you hate the attention from the onlookers who did nothing but to judge and gossip.

You wanted freedom, true happiness, a flash of dopamine.. those things you get in a thrilling match of poker.

You learned the game when you were 13. Out of your mind and going crazy from learning how to play the damn violin, then your music teacher suggested a fun activity that he'll let you enjoy during your free time.

That was when you discovered your hidden talent in.. well, gambling.

That was also when you discovered Choi fucking Beomgyu.

You've actually heard about him. Another one of those fortunate heirs but unlike you, he's rather conceited and selfish; that is according to the gossip.

And hell, he's good at playing poker. The only person who has defeated you, and you hated that with passion.

He looks like an idiot, handsome yes, but still an idiot in your eyes, and it annoys you to no end that this dimwit actually has enough brains to do mind games and do math.

So, here you are, provoked to actually accept a round of poker after he went and spouted how scared you were of him.

Instead of enjoying champagne and steak in the large yacht, you are sitting with your pride and a camouflaged bet on the line, praying to the gods out there to let you win this time.

Beomgyu checked his whole cards, clapping his hands afterwards and relaxing his figure on the sofa. Legs crossed and arms draped over the sofa back.

"Not too late to fold, darling." he utters, eyeing you like a hawk.

You scoffed, returning his sentiments, "No thanks, but you are free to do so."

He shrugged your comments, kind of telling you to 'suit yourself', opting to focus on the game when the dealer began to drop the turn and the river.

Your hand is shaky, staring at the pot while you recheck your cards at hand. It's good. Amazingly excellent. Luck and statistics are on your side.

Beomgyu must be bluffing that confident countenance.

"Miss and sir, it's time to show your hands." the dealer says, and you did the honor of showing yours first.

"Straight flush." you smirk at Beomgyu's surprised expression, but then your joy plummeted when he revealed his hand.

"Royal flush, baby."

The crowd roared, a seismic thrill from the close match of poker.

You close your eyes, gritting your teeth in anger, stopping yourself from cursing or doing anything remotely ungraceful. You just lost a game, you're not going to humiliate yourself further.

"I am getting all this... later." Beomgyu smiles wickedly, ushering the guards to make everyone in the room to leave and give you two privacy.

It is a public space, but his family's power and influence are not to be messed with. Thus, he must be obeyed at all costs.

Rushing footsteps are heard, then silence follows after the door has been shut.

You now opened your eyes, meeting his in a heated stare before asking for his demands, "What do you want? I'm telling you though, I'm not giving you any of my games anymore. Spare that."

"You are getting engaged, right?"

His question astounded you. Does the news really spread that fast?

"Who are you getting engaged with?" he resumed his interrogation, not moving an inch in his manspreading position that he assumed in the process of his inquiries.

"Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. Well, that's what I heard." you answered, avoiding eye contact with him.

You were shocked when he laughed aloud, peering at him incredulously, "What is your problem?"

"Lee Heeseung, that's low." he snickers, amused at the thought of you marrying his mortal nemesis, "Yeah, no. You're marrying me instead."

His declaration is a bomb, dropped on you suddenly and you are not quite sure on how to react but laugh awkwardly.

He is a man of impulsive decisions and foolishness, but this is way too far. A sick prank that he's brewing in order to entertain himself in his playground.

"I- Beomgyu. Do you hear yourself? Have you finally gone mad?" you asked, standing up from your seat, not willing to humor his bullshit anymore.

He wasn't speaking and you took that as your cue to remove yourself in this.. uncomfortable discussion.

"It was nice playing with you, get some rest while you're at it. Yeah?" you gave him a tight-lipped smile, proceeding to step away from the room but as you passed by him, you were forcefully pulled towards him.

You didn't have the chance to process the situation. One moment you're on your feet, then the next you're seated on his lap, his lips on yours while he holds you close to your body.

What's weird though, is that you didn't resist the kiss, you enjoy it.

You liked the way his lips molded into yours, nibbling on your lower lip and biting it rather harshly before licking the incoming bruise away. Pulling away from you to mumble against your lips.

"That bambi boy sucks, you should know better that I am far superior than him. Besides," he laid you down the cushions of the sofa, his electrifying fingers trailing on your sides, "you lost to me. Don't you want to play more rounds of poker with me until you're able to win at least a round?"

You let out an offended wheeze, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, "Choi Beomgyu," you whisper his name, your digits playing with the hair on the back of his neck, "Less talk, more action."

taglist:

@hyunjinheartbreakprince @lun4kazumii @once27 @purrplegyuu @yawnzsof @baeksofty @shakalakaboomboo

[raina-at]

Hobby

This is another sequel of sorts to this ficlet from last year, but this too stands on its own.

--------------

Sherlock hates it, hates it, when someone calls his violin a hobby.

It’s always the same. People see his violin. Ask him if he plays professionally. When he replies in the negative, they make a comment about how music is such a ‘rewarding hobby’.

Music isn’t a hobby. At least not to Sherlock. Sherlock, to use Mycroft’s words, doesn’t have hobbies. He has obsessions. 

Music isn’t an obsession. It's more than that. Music is a lifesaver. It’s a necessity. It’s language, and emotion, and freedom. It’s release valve, expression, relief.

Music is the only thing he’s found that can consume him the way the drugs did, the way a good case does. It engages him, wholly, mind and body and heart. It’s the only time he feels at peace with himself, whole in himself, and yet totally in control. The only limit to what he can express with his violin is his own skill and imagination. 

John doesn’t have a musical bone in his body. He’s not only tone-deaf to the point where the tune of Happy Birthday is a challenge to him, but his taste in music is both underdeveloped and conventional. He likes Mozart, and Brahms, and Tchakowski, but he has little appreciation for Locatelli, for example. (John thinks his favourite composer is Mendlesson, but it’s actually not true. The pieces John especially likes are actually Sherlock’s. But Sherlock has never told John this. Every time John asks, Sherlock tells him it’s Mendlesson. Sherlock is the only person who knows John’s favourite composer is actually Sherlock himself. Sherlock doesn’t know why he lies, but it feels like a secret too precious to share. He hoards this knowledge like a glowing ember in the hearth of his mind palace, a source of warmth and light on bad days.)

One of the reasons John is so amazing is that he isn’t musical at all, doesn’t play an instrument, barely ever listens to music, but somehow, he’s the only person who understands. Who seems to know, instinctively, how much Sherlock needs the music. It’s miraculous, and quite inexplicable to Sherlock, how John somehow knows so many of Sherlock’s secrets without having to be told.

John never bothered Sherlock when he used to play, back home in Baker Street. He never told Sherlock to stop playing, even when all he did was screech on the instrument. He never complained, never asked questions. The only times he offered any comment at all, it was when Sherlock played a piece he especially liked.

Sherlock thinks now that he never truly appreciated these moments enough, these quiet times in Baker Street when Sherlock was playing his heart out through his violin, and John was listening.

*-*

It’s hot in Istanbul. It’s August, and the days feel endless. Sherlock’s shirt is sticking to his back and his hair to his forehead as he comes back from trailing the mark the whole afternoon. He’s sunburned and his entire body feels like one exposed, over sensitised nerve ending. He’s uncomfortable and overstimulated, his head hurts from the sun and he wants nothing more than a cold shower and five hours of complete silence.

It’s never silent here. The boiler clanks and the floorboards creak and the neighbours’ telly blares through paper-thin walls. The upstairs neighbours have three children who scream at each other all day, and the right hand neighbours veer between having vigorous fights and even more vigorous sex. The windows overlook a busy intersection and traffic seems to rattle right through Sherlock’s head at every hour of the day or night.

Sherlock lies down on the bed and closes his eyes. He wants silence. Just for a minute. Just for a breath. He needs to find that quiet space inside his mind where he can go when everything outside gets too much. 

He puts a pillow over his head to drown out the noise. It helps a little, but not much.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he feels cool fingers in his wrist, trying to be unobtrusive. “I’m not dead,” he mutters from underneath his pillow.

“You have a pillow over your face and you haven’t moved in ten minutes. Sorry for not jumping to conclusions.”

Sherlock removes the pillow from his head and glares at John. “And where have you been? You were supposed to be back by six.”

John shrugs. “Got a bit sidetracked. Did a bit of shopping.”

“John, we can’t afford to get sidetracked. We’re not tourists, this is not a pleasure cruise. We need to be alert at all times if we’re going to break up Moriarty’s—”

Sherlock breaks off mid-sentence, stunned into silence, because John  is holding a violin case. It’s obviously old and well-used, and Sherlock suspects that the violin inside will not be in much better shape.

Sherlock takes the case form John, who’s smirking at him in a way Sherlock finds both annoying and sexy, and opens it with shaky fingers.

The instrument is lovely. It’s clearly well-used and well-loved, but it’s in good shape. He gazes at it for a long time, runs his fingers over the strings, enjoys the wood-rosin smell. 

Then he looks up at John, who’s watching him with an indecipherable expression on his face and a small smile on his lips. 

“Play something?” 

There’s a whole universe of meaning in John’s words and in his blue eyes watching Sherlock with an intensity that would be scary if Sherlock were the type to be scared by extremes. 

I’d jump off a building for you.

You did. I’d kill for you.

You did.

Sherlock lifts the instrument out of its case and lets his fingers run over the body, gently, carefully, curiously, the way he wishes he had the courage to touch John. 

He rosins the bow and checks the tuning, trying to get his wildly beating heart under control. He’s ridiculously nervous as he lifts the instrument to his shoulder and puts bow to string.

The first notes of music unwind most of the tension in him, the relief feels like breathing out after holding your breath for too long. He plays a few scales, and it feels like water cascading down his overheated senses, leaving cool tranquillity in its wake.

“Play something by my favourite composer,” John says, with a smile in his voice and a sort of greedy hunger in his eyes that makes Sherlock shiver.

“Who’s that?” Sherlock asks, feeling something bold and new emerge between them, in this place where nothing is familiar except the two of them, where nothing is reliable but whatever this is between them, where nothing is certain but that they’re going home together, or not at all. And he wonders if this shivery wanting feeling in Sherlock’s belly is one of the things John knows about without having to be told, a secret they share without ever having spoken a word about it. 

John just looks at him for a moment, then he smiles. “You.”

And just like that Sherlock knows what that shivery intensity is. He lifts the violin to his shoulder again and he plays. He says all the things he can’t say with words. Thank you. Your eyes are lovely. I want to touch you.

I love you. So much. With everything I have. 

Listen, can you hear it, how much I love you?

And John, as always, listens, and understands.

--------

Tags behind the cut as usual, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @weeesi @peanitbear @keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk @salmonsown @jolieblack @jrow @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog

[ouroborosorder]

So, Deepcolor's oprec released, and upon reading a summary of it, I basically felt the entire world of Arknights click into place. Hear me out.

Deepcolor's Oprec details that Deepcolor was convinced by a messenger of the Cult of the Deep to become Seaborn. But she stopped her own assimilation when she realized that the Seaborn do not appreciate aesthetic beauty. She was disgusted, and literally left and stopped her own assimilation entirely due to her love of art, and has been holding it back with her painting.

And this made me realize. This is true of every character with seaborn blood who has resisted assimilation. Skadi sings. Specter sings. Laurentina sculpts. Gladiia dances. Mizuki cooks. Deepcolor is a painter. Amaia still translated books long after she had become Seaborn. Garcia played the piano. Lorenzo cared for the Stultifera.

Which also means...

... Anita was never assimilated. Not fully.

But this makes sense, even outside of a "art holds back the darkness" power of friendship-tier story beat. Assimilation is the surrendering of the individual self to unity, the acceptance that you do not matter, that all that matters is giving your life and your existence to the perpetuation of a greater Whole. They cultivate only to consume. They sing, but their song is a profound silence.

And what is more individualistic, more self-revealing than art? There is no artistic expression without the self, without the understanding that you are a distinct voice, that your perspective matters, that there is only one you.

Perhaps you may have noticed, but this is the same as the Yan-Sui. They hold back the collective with their individual passions. Painting, movies, poetry, games, war.

There's one other thing with a connection to artistic expression - but this time, positively. Originium Arts. Artistic ability has long been associated with Originium Arts capability - Amiya plays the violin, Frostnova sings as she enters the battlefield, Goldenglow's hairdressing, Astesia's divination powering her arts, Lucian the Blood Diamond. I mean they're called Arts for the love of god, it's not exactly subtle.

But the Rhine Lab manga tells us that when an Oripathy carrier dies, the Originium left behind contains their DNA sequence, left behind after death. They may die, but there is something that is always left behind, something that always remains behind. There is always the thing that let them do their Arts. There is always their artistic ability.

There is always their art.

You do your art until you are taken by death, but what remains behind is the traces of it, the artistic DNA you have left behind, your Arts itself. You're gone, but the remnants are still there. And someone else will find it, taking your Arts into themselves to do their own Arts themselves. Sometimes it becomes part of you, living with you and growing inside you, granting you your abilities. Sometimes you simply hold it and use it as fuel and inspiration to make your own Arts.

And this is always what Arknights has been about. Not just metaphorically, but literally.

They hired individual artists, asking them to make characters according to their own sensibilities and style, then putting them into a cohesive world. They got talented musicians and gave them carte blanche to contribute to the musical identity of this game. They got talented voice actors and let them just go ham on the mic. The game's story concept debatably originated because of Lowlight creating Kal'tsit for a make your own OC art game.

It has always been about individuals, putting everything they have, everything that makes them unique, every part of their histories and sensibilities and quirks and personalities and identity and selfish desires and allowing them to shine as a collaborative effort, working together towards a greater goal that means something to people.

An organization of people, Infected by the artistic DNA of those they carry close. People using their Arts to push back the darkness, as best as they can. Even if they stumble and fall, even if they make mistakes, they will always try. To enjoy their life and practice their art.

Because the two greatest threats to the world of Terra, the Seaborn and Sui, are held back by.. simple artistic passion.

The passion and love of the community, the individual given space to shine and collaborate, singing to drown out the terror of the song without sound, the art without beauty, and the collective without the individual.

[retroghouls-if]

THE STORY

Music has always been a part of you.

You could hold a bow (violin/viola/cello) before you could hold a pencil. Unfortunately, life has catapulted you into a downward spiral. Your college band disintegrates. A close friendship goes up in flames. You’re doing nothing with your life. Death and a personal betrayal have left you bereft. You have never felt more worthless. Everything culminates on the night of your sister’s wedding when you drunkenly form a Faustian contract with the entity that haunts your apartment.

For better and for worse, you are now destined for greatness.

The devil has but one thing to ask in return: absolute domination. You are to conquer anything and everything through the power of good ol’ fashioned rock n’ roll. And you’re not alone. Armed with friends (new and old), a new band, and quite literal hellspawn to help, you are going to conquer the world.

Not because it’s what you want, but because failure is not an option.

Not for any of you.

CONTENT WARNINGS

Retroghouls is intended for mature 18+ audiences for dark topics including abuse, violence, explicit language and sexual content, and more.

FEATURES

Customize your MC from their physical appearance, personality, sexuality to their musical background (violin, viola, or cello), familial relationships, and more.

Choose your band’s concept and determine its overarching message. Is your group activist, a sex symbol, or a harbinger of destruction? Will you tell your fans that they’re not alone? Will you challenge them to persevere no matter what? Or will you encourage them to burn it all down?

Manage your newfound inspiration and the cornucopia of side effects that come with it.

Protect the anonymity of you and your bandmates.

Outwit a demon or two – if you play your cards right.

Romance a cast of troubled individuals.

Make objectively terrible decisions! Ruin lives! Or don’t. You will face the consequences of your actions either way.

ROMANTIC INTERESTS

Camille ‘Ilim’ Vaughan [she/her or he/him] is the drummer of your new group. Having been involved in the music industry for over a decade, they are a person who invokes a myriad of opinions. Both beloved and reviled, Ilim themselves operate in extremes. They make no effort to hide their agenda. So the question follows – what part will you play in the reckoning? [MORE]

Tuesday ‘Needle’ Nelson [he/him or she/her] is the bass of your band’s guitar trio. So, whether it is during concerts, midnight comp sessions, or just casual riffing at hq, they are always close by. Music has always been their one true love and so they’re determined to pour their blood, sweat, and tears into this project. Tuesday has very little else otherwise. [MORE]

Micky Monroe [she/her or he/him] You two took orchestra together in high school and haven’t given a passing thought towards one another since your graduation performance. Now, courtesy your prodigious manager, Micky & Archangels are the feature on your upcoming album. Once the album is done, you’ll surely fade from one another’s lives just like before. Both of you agree, it’ll be just like before. [MORE]

Jack/Jackie Graves [he/him or she/her] is the heart of your PR team, coordinating with managers, publicists, and social media specialists to ensure no unnecessary information about the band leaks. Your privacy is their bread and butter. Your security pays their bills. Don’t mistake their friendliness. Don’t mistake their kindness. It’s just common business to look out for one’s best interests.

[cielwritings]

Could I request Ciel having a best friend who can play 13 instruments?

! Ciel with a really.. REALLY talented friend !

if only i could do this man...

It was a gradual thing. First, you showed off your skills with the piano. Then the violin, then the cello...

Then it started to get ridiculous. No way you're human.

"Sebastian, I want you to be true with me. Are they a demon?" Ciel would ask quietly, as he watched you play the bugle.

"I cannot sense any demonic energy from them, my lord. I sense a confident and clear-cut soul, if anything."

Ciel simply stared at you with a gaze that screamed jealousy... and interest.

You two started to become friends when he offered to pay you to give him lessons certain instruments. While Sebastian was a little jealous he picked you, he didn't put up a fight and let it happen.

The instrument he had you attempt to teach him was the guitar. Alas, the strings broke on him.

So he tried the jew harp. He chipped a tooth.

Surely he couldn't mess up a harmonica-

He had an asthma attack. He got too cocky with a complicated piece and had an asthma attack.

.....

You still tease him about that, even if Sebastian gives you a glare every time you do. Ciel doesn't mind it as much as he does, rather, Ciel finds it fairly amusing how you can find his misfortune funny.

You two became closer and closer by the day. He opened up more and more to you, expressing his nightmares (but never what they're about). If you stay over and he has one, you and Sebastian will be by his side in an instant.

While Sebastian refuses to leave unless ordered to, Ciel takes it to his advantage. He'll get Sebastian to tell him a story while you play a soft instrument to set the mood. He's out like a light halfway through it.

One of his favorite things to hear you play is the piano. An old but gold choice, isn't it? There's just something charming about the way your fingers dance along the keys. Your body swaying and moving with how intense you'll get.. it's almost like he's watching a musical performance!

Sometimes you'll be there with him and Sebastian, playing music while Sebastian teaches him how to dance. Elizabeth wouldn't want to slow dance forever, so they do numerous genres. Perfect for how many instruments you know!

Of course, Ciel still sucks at dancing. It's the thought that counts, right?

[redlittlefoxari]

To The Ends Of Faêrun: Chapter Sixteen: Something in the Air

This series is book two of a fanfic I have already written called Astarion Epilogue: An Adventure in Making Life

Master List Here for Books One, and Two

*List includes a prequel that is essentially one-shots of their adventures over the fifty years after the battle at the end of the game*

Warnings: Blood, Sex, Violence, NSFW 18+, Smut

Summary: Tav gets wrapped up in the Midwinter festival, Shadowhearts and Gale are drinking. While Astarion is hunting for dinner. But something is in the air.

Tav stood in the square just over the bridge leading to Moonrise towers. The distillery that once housed one of the most disgusting creatures she had ever seen in her life was now cleaned, polished, and in total working order again. Dozens of people poured in and out, looking for more than just the hot cider and mulled wine that lay on tables all over the square. They looked for spirits and conversation as the music from a traveling bard played and made casual conversation almost impossible. It’s not that they were terrible by any means; it was just that the volume at which they played their violin was a little grating on the ears. 

Everyone had forgone their armor in lieu of some more casual clothes. Gale was inside the distillery giving an impromptu lecture to a few drunk bystanders dressed in a wool sweater and jacket. Shadowheart parked herself next to the cauldron of mulled wine and wore a long, fur-lined winter dress with an equally long jacket. Tav decided to go with something that allowed her to move freely just in case she needed to spring into action. She wore a long-sleeved red blouse and a pair of tight-fitting pants, her hair tied up in a ponytail to stay out of her eyes. 

A gaggle of children ran by, Apple being among them as she ran with her new friends. Tav kept a watchful eye on her child as too much sugar had led Apple in the past to get overly excited, and that usually led her to bite. Halsin had made it a point to introduce Tav and Astarion to all of the parents and villagers he could, which helped alleviate some of the anxiety of letting her around strangers. They had found that what Halsin had said was true; everyone in the settlement was, as far as she could tell, of a sound mind. The only problem was a few angsty teenagers who weren’t even at the party at the moment. So the only thing Tav was worried about at the moment was Apple getting too excited on candied Apples or the dozens of other sugary drinks and food items and biting someone. 

She looked around for Astarion, who was notably absent. He had told her that he was going to get something to eat, and that was almost an hour ago. Tav just chalked it up to animals being hard to come by because most were in hibernation. Or that he had to go further away from the settlement where people wouldn’t see him feed. Either way, Tav was starting to wonder where he was and if she needed to go out and look for him. 

“How are you enjoying the party?” Halsin’s voice came from behind Tav, causing her to jump. “I’m sorry.” He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“It’s okay.” Tav placed her hand over her heart. “It’s hard to hear anything over that violin.” 

“I’ve asked him to play softer a few times now, and it has fallen on deaf ears.” Halsin shook his head. 

“Maybe that’s why he plays so loud.” Tav smiled. “They made themselves deaf.” 

Halsin laughed, which caught the attention of a few people who were around, including the bard who shot the two of them a dirty look. “I think  he knows we are talking about him.” 

“At least people are talking  about it.” Tav shrugged. “That’s all bards care about anyways.” 

“Very true.” Halsin looked around. “Where is Astarion? Is he not with you?”

“He’s getting something to eat.” Tav touched her neck with two fingers. 

“Ah, I should have guessed.” Halsin nodded. “I’ve noticed you haven’t left this spot all night.” He gave her an assessing stare. “Are you not enjoying the party?”

“No, I am…Well, as much as I can from here.” Tav’s eyes trailed after Apple. “I’m watching her.” 

Halsin followed Tav’s line of sight to her daughter. “I told you everyone here will not harm her; they are good people; you even saw that yourself earlier.” 

“It’s not them I’m worried about.” Tav watched Apple grab a sweet roll. “Apple! Put that back!”

Apple dropped the roll and looked around to find Tav. “Sorry, mom!” She licked her fingers before running off with her friends again. 

Tav blew out a sigh as she returned some of her attention back to Halsin. Leaving one eye on the dessert table. Halsin looked at her with sympathy as he started to understand why Tav needed to abstain from the night's events. 

“When she has too much sugar, she gets excited; when she gets excited, she bites.” Tav said matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t believe all the times we had to apologize and explain away why she bites.” Tav deflated. “But we found that if we limit her sugar intake, she doesn’t bite.” 

“I see…” Halsin trailed off. 

The two stood and watched everything that happened around them. People started to come out of the distillery and dance. Now, having enough liquor in their systems, the loud music didn’t bother them. Tav could only guess how many children were going to be born nine months from now due to their parent's drunken reverie, and it brought a sad smile to her lips. Tendrils of sorrow spread through her chest at the thought. She thought about it briefly and then pushed it away altogether. Not wanting to be put in a sour mood by her own mind. 

Halsin assessed her before speaking. “Why don’t I keep an eye on little Apple for you the rest of the night?” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Tav gave him her full attention. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your people.” 

“You wouldn’t.” He placed his hands on her shoulders as he stepped in front of her. “I have already spoken to everyone I care to, and before I saw you, I was already on my way to play with the children in my bear form.” 

“Are you sure?” Tav looked at him, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. 

“I’m sure!” Halsin turned Tav around and pushed her towards one of the many cauldrons of hot cider and mulled wine. “Now go! I will make sure Apple is taken care of and in bed at a reasonable hour.” 

Tav turned her head slightly. “Just be sure she doesn’t eat too much! Oh, wait, I need to tell her to stop and drink some water; she's been running a lot.” Tav looked around for her daughter.

“I will let her know!” Halsin used his archdruid voice. “Now go!”

Tav moved towards where Shadowheart was seated and grabbed a cup. She looked at the two cauldrons filled with the available piping-hot liquids. Shdowheart was enjoying the mulled wine that was spiced with cinnamon, orange peels, and cranberries already deep in her cups as Tav noted the red glow of her cheeks. Tav decided that she should still have her wits about her and grabbed the ladle that belonged to the non-alcoholic apple cider. 

“You’re not going to get drunk off of that one.” Shadowheart spoke just before taking a drink from her glass. 

“I know.” Tav drank her cider and felt the heat course through her body. “I don’t want to get drunk in front of my child.” 

“Oh right… For some reason, I keep forgetting you’re a mother.” Shadowheart looked around for Apple. “I need to come see her more… She is my favorite niece.”

“She’s your only niece,” Tav replied, rolling her eyes.

“Right, and that’s why she’s my favorite.” Shadowheart gave Tav a playful smile. “She is great; you know the two of you got lucky.”

“In more ways than I can count.” Tav looked at the crowd forming around the bard. 

Drunken men and women tried their best to sing as the bard played, and none of them hitting the right notes. Tav took a long drink from her cider, warming her further as she hummed along to the song. The song was called The Beauty of Baldur’s Gate and told of the beautiful maiden who slew the absolute along with her righteous friends and saved all of Faerun from the Mind Flayer invasion. As far as songs about her went, it was one of Tav’s favorites. 

Shadowheart looked at Tav. “Didn’t you and Astarion once enter a bard competition?” 

“UGH!” Tav growned at the question. “No, he entered me in the contest to catch a man who was killing the local bards.” Tav turned her attention back to Shadowheart. “It turns out a bard slept with his wife and took it upon himself to eliminate all bards from the town.” 

Tav remembered the day Astarion had burst through their room at the local inn they were staying at and proclaimed that she would be participating. After a long argument, Tav conceded to participating. They had planned to have Tav not actually sing but instead get access Backstage in hopes that the killer would strike. But one thing had led to another, and Tav had found herself on stage with the crowd calling for her to sing. Then another local bard started to play the flute, and something in her called for her to sing. All the while, Astarion took down the murderer from backstage, and Tav took first place. 

“Didn’t you win?” Shadowheart raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Only because the murderer had already killed all the best bards in town.” Tav downed the remains of her cup and turned to fill it again.

“Why don’t you go up and try your hat at getting the notes right.” Shadowheart gave Tav her best puppy dog eyes. “I’ve never heard you sing, and I would love to.” 

Tav avoided her gaze and instead turned her attention back to the crowd surrounding the bard. They had moved on to another song, and the crowd had swelled to almost double what it had been only a few moments ago. Tav could barely see him as he continued to play host to the drunks around him. They still were having trouble finding the correct notes. 

Just as Tav was about to head inside to find Gale, the bard stopped playing and shouted over the crowd. “Is there anyone out there who is not drunk and can carry a tune?” He jammed his finger in his ear. “I fear I will contract tone deafness if someone does not aid me soon.” 

Tav started walking away past Shadowheart when she stood abruptly and grabbed Tav’s hand. Raising it high in the air. “My friend can offer you some aid!” She shouted. 

Tav pulled her hand from Shadowheart's grip and got in her friend's face. “What are you doing?”

“Making you have a bit of fun.” Shadowheart swayed. “It’s Midwinter! Come on, live a little!”

 The crowd parted as cheers started erupting from all around Tav. If she walked away now, it would look as if she was scared, which she wasn’t, nor was she afraid to stand in front of this crowd. She blew out a long, calming breath and walked up to the bard, who was looking at her expectantly. 

“Hello, my lady; my name is Samuel Crestwind.” Samuel bowed. “And what name does a woman as fair as you go by?”

“Tav.” She looked around at the crowd, waiting patiently for the next song. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be the same Tav that liberated this place of the shadow curse and save Baldur’s Gate?” Samuel asked in awe. 

“The very same.” Tav looked away and blushed. 

“Everyone!” Samuel addressed the crowd. “We don’t have any ordinary person before us! This is Tav, liberator of shadows and the legendary hero of Baldur’s Gate!”

The crowd cheered as Samuel made his announcement, and Tav’s blush deepened. She could feel a strange power surge from the crowd as they cheered. It felt almost as if she was gaining something from them. A strange form of magic, but just as she felt the strange tug, it was gone before could identify it.

“What songs do you know, Tav?” He gave her a flirtatious smile. 

“Pretty much all the popular ones.” She gave him her best polite smile. “Just start playing, and if I don’t know it, I’ll make something up.” 

“As you wish.” Samuel lifted his violin so that it rested on his left shoulder. “Let us see what you can do. 

Tav swallowed, and Samuel started the first few notes of The Green Eyes of Mallistari. The song was about a human woodsman who had fallen in love with an elven woman, and they met under the full moon to state their love for one another. Tav rolled her eyes and took a deep breath before opening her mouth to serenade the crowd. 

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

It had taken Astarion far too long to find something to eat. As he crested the hill that bordered the settlement, the Midwinter party was already in full swing. The hunt wasn’t a complete bust, as he was able to find two squirrels and a raccoon. Not as good as other things he could be dining on, but they would do for the meantime. 

A crowd of people surrounded a bard and his partner as the two danced and entertained the growing crowd. Concern gripped him as he continued into the square where he had left Tav two hours ago as he couldn’t find her anywhere. 

Astarion looked over to see Shadowheart clapping. Her body turned around on the bench to watch the crowd better. He approached her to see if she knew where Tav went as he clocked Apple playing with a bear that he hoped was Halsin. As he approached Shadowheart, her face broke out into a wide smile. It made him uneasy as it gave him the aura that she knew something that he didn’t. 

“There you are!” Shadowheart stayed seated. “Where have you been? You have missed one hell of a party.” 

“I was getting something to eat.” Astarion continued to look around. “Have you seen Tav!?”  He shouted over the noise of the bards and the crowd. 

“I have seen her.” Shadowheart smiled into her cup as she took a drink. 

“And where is she exactly?” Astarion didn’t have time to play games with her, not when Tav could be alone somewhere. 

“Behind you.” Shadowheart leaned back against the table. 

Astarion looked behind him and just found the crowd. “Are you saying she’s in that crowd?” 

“More like the crowd is around her.” Shadowheart slurred as she spoke. 

He turned back around and really listened to the voices that were going on around him. Beyond the sounds of the drunks cheering, there was a high, sweet voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. Not since the days when Apple needed to be sung to sleep, and although Astarion did his best, he was never able to hold a candle to the voice that Apple always asked for. He looked back at Shadowheart to confirm what he was thinking. All she did was nod; she didn’t need him to ask his question to know what he needed to know. 

Astarion started to make his way through the crowd, pushing his way past dozens of men and women. All of them were not putting up a fight, as many of them were too drunk to know what was happening before he had passed them. As he got closer to the front of the crowd, Tav’s voice became clear and it was harder to deny that it was really her. It had taken Astarion hours to convince her to do the bard competition over fifty years ago, and she still fought tooth and nail to get out of it any way she could. The only logical explanation as to why she was doing it willingly now was that she must be shit-faced. 

As he broke into the front of the crowd, he was shocked at what he saw. Tav’s curls cascaded over her shoulders in a waterfall of brown silk. She was glowing in the moonlight but not from any magic but her own sweat that glistened on her forehead and the parts of her chest he could see. A large smile accented her face as she sang and danced to the tune that some man playing the violin was fiddling away. Her face was red, and she was panting, which told Astarion that she had been doing this for quite some time. 

The song ended, and she locked eyes with him. “Astarion!” She ran over to him, and as she did, she tried to catch her breath. “Did you find something to eat?”

“Yes…” Astarion looked into her eyes. “Tav, how much have you had to drink?” 

“None.” Tav panted. “Shadowheart volunteered me to come up and sing.” She grabbed his hands and smiled. “And then the crowd started cheering, then the next thing I knew, I had sung six songs.” 

She was positively glowing. The smile on her face beamed at him, and Astarion found himself staring back at her in awe, gravitating towards her like she had cast a spell on him. Tav was stunning, a vision of pure beauty as she looked into his eyes, and it felt as if she was the answer to everything he had ever asked for. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tav giggled before fear took over. “Is Apple okay?” She squeezed his hands. “Halsin said he was watching her! Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Halsin is doing a fine job entertaining her; it’s just…” Astarion trailed off as he released one of her hands and cupped her cheek with his now free hand. “You look radiant, my Darling.” 

Tav leaned into his touch. “I’m sweaty, that’s probably why.” 

“No.” Astarion stepped towards her, not caring that a horde of people surrounded them. “You put all the goddesses to shame with your beauty.” 

Astarion leaned down and placed his lips to Tav’s. Her lips parted to give him full access to her mouth. She tasted like spiced Apples baked with cinnamon and cloves, whereas he tasted the iron of the animals he had just consumed. The crowd around them cheered, and some grumbled about how it wasn’t fair that pretty boys always got the bards. A different hunger grew in Astarion as he broke the kiss and saw the same hunger in Tav’s eyes. 

“Come with me.” Astarion pulled Tav through the crowd. 

Tav waved goodbye to Samuel, who shouted his dissatisfaction at Tav's departure. “Where are we going?”

“To feed each other mind, body, and soul.” Astarion started to make his way to the inn, Tav following not far behind as she held onto his hand. 

Tag list:

@ofmyth-andmagicart @lunaredgrave @littlekidsteve @omnia--mea-mecum-porto @ayselluna @myreadingmanga123 @kismet-of-the-divine @nicalysm @justlilpeaches21 @five-salty-bitters @lenarosic88 @caydevakarian @supervrgnsokay-blog @ravenswritingroom @kalypsoox @foxiecelery @wisteriaofthegraves

[asherloki]

Until I found you

Sherlock x reader

Word count:- 815

Fluff

"oh how wonderful indeed" I exclaimed as I touched each string of violin in order with my index finger, making it buzz. Sherlock was still stuck with his microscope, examining the specimen he's been given by Hopkins recently. This officer, Stella Hopkins, she's a huge fan of Sherlock and to our surprise Sherlock doesn't mind her, he says "this young officer has potential". I took his violin as no response came from the man with the microscope. Imitating how Sherlock holds his violin I took the bow in other hand. When I let it touch the strings, it made an awful sound. That's when I turned and found out the detective lifted his head from it.

"You didn't hold any chord did you?" he enquired getting up from his chair, leaving the kitchen table as it is, messy.

"I don't play violin detective, so I don't know the chords" I replied putting the violin down. As I turned back again I saw my man was walking towards me or was he walking towards the violin?

"perhaps you'd be interested in learning it?" he offered as he stood infront of me.

"how many times have I offered you to learn a bit of piano from me Mr Holmes?" I teased him and I was delighted at how he pouted at my teasing. Whenever we visit my mum's I always play my old piano, perhaps I've asked him to play it a thousand times and he didn't agree to do so for once. Even though I caught him once or twice admiring it, as he pressed a few keys with his index finger.

"I'm not a pianist, sorry Mrs Holmes" him referring me as Mrs Holmes has never failed to make me giggle, "guitar, Ukulele, all the instruments you own" he said walking past me and grabbing his violin, "I'm fascinated by you" he praised holding his violin over his shoulder, then spinning the knobs as he tuned it.

"you were?" I enquired, sitting on the arm of his chair as he faced the window.

"wrong" he replied taking the bow in hand, "I still am, very much fascinated".

I smiled, did he smile too? who knows. Even after being his wife I can't always tell what's going on in his head, the mystery that he is, the man that he is.

"I always wanted to learn violin next" I said for I've always been drawn to how wonderful this musical instrument sounds.

"why didn't you?" Sherlock asked staring at his dearest violin.

"here you are" I replied, the only musical instrument I knew not how to play, my husband does, and he does it wonderfully, "you can, maybe one day I'll have enough courage to ask you to teach me too".

He gave me a hum in response, as if he wondered 'when will you be genuinely willing?'

"what will you play Sherlock?" I enquired, wanting to know if he has prepared anything, he loves to compose sometimes, he did one for me, the day we were married, three years ago, twenty second November, he made a rather happy melody for me. It was so joyous that everyone asked about it, like what is the inspiration behind it. He replied "my sunshine", he named it so as well. For he says he's never truly been happy, until I came one day, while he was playing with Rosie, John's daughter. He says he felt as if the sunrise for which he waited for a long time, rose that day.

"something my wife would love" he replied turning a bit to me, his smile indicated he will play my favourite song. A song that sounds beautiful when he plays it for me. And then his bow touched the strings, and the buzz was perfect, for the man held the right chords, unlike me. With Swift movements of his fingers, as if they were dancing on the chords and the bow sliding over the strings he started the part that goes,

heaven, when I held you again....

I smiled widely as my guess was correct, the song he says is ours, for he never fell in love, true love, in his entire life until he found me. Seriously though, the cold, grumpy detective, melted for someone like me, immature they say, childish too, young, alot younger than him, but then, I love him, so does he.

"would you mind humming with me?" he asked turning to me, with a nod I agreed and started singing,

"I would never fall in love again until I found her" he hummed as I sung then the next line, he joined me,

"I said I will never fall unless it's you.."

"I'm falling to" I continued,

"I was lost within the darkness" we sung together, looking at eachother, for we dedicated these lines to one another, "but then I found her... I found you..."

[st3rll1nk]

A Nice Surprise..

Synopsis: You and Kafka have been separated for quite some time now due to one of her missions. You couldn’t help but feel lonely without her presence.

Rating: G/n reader x Kafka (Romantically), angst, sfw, fluff, and comfort.

You turned on the facet, the water falling into the bathtub. You then put on a disc in your vinyl of your music taste as you wait for the water to rise. You sat on a stool and sighed. It’s been 2 months once you actually seen Kafka in person rather than texting on your phones. And, it would stay like that for 2 more weeks before she came back.

This burning feeling only grew too with everything slowly but surely, reminding everything of her. Her scent of lavender and roses was something you always looked out for. Her empty purple-pink eyes reminded you of the sunsetting darker into the night. Her lips was a color you always turned your eyes too.

It was dreadful. Especially with how silent it was without her playing her violin for you.

Your eyes then shifted over the tub and turned off the facet. You took off your clothes and dipped your feet into the warm water. You then sat down in the tub with your knees pressed up to your chest and arms wrapped around your legs, your cheek on your knees as you closed your eyes for a moment. It seemed to have worked well for releasing your thoughts about work in some way or another.

You then opened your eyes, listening to the music from the vinyl, watching the water of the tub, and the lights in the bathroom. You started to get out of your position and just try not to think of Kafka and just yourself. You began to bathe and wash yourself before you hear the door creep open, your eyes immediately onto it.

Kafka entered the room, her eyes on yours immediately. You paused as she smiled, “I didn’t expect you to be here out of all places.” You really, really, didn’t expect this. Though, you couldn’t complain. You smiled back and responded, “I didn’t expect you to come for another 2 weeks.”

Kafka closed the door behind her and took of her jacket as she spoke. “True, but, the mission went on better than expected. And, I couldn’t help but miss you.” She paused for a moment, looking at you in the water filled bathtub before speaking again. “Don’t mind if I join, right, dear?” She said so sweetly. She knew how to play with my buttons just right with one of the many pet names she has for me.

“Of course. I wouldn’t mind it at all, Kafka.” You told her honestly. Out of modesty, you looked away from her as she changed and sat in the bathtub. Though, when you looked back at her, she had a love filled eyes expression on her face. “Say, (Name)..” She began, one of her fingers dragging up and down your waist which made you flinch before relaxing

“How have you been since I’ve been gone?” She asked honestly. You sighed, wrapping your arms around Kafka as you buried your face into her neck before responding in her ear. “.. Okay.. But, I really missed you this time.” You told her, not sure if it was her Spirit Whispering ability that made you speak the truth than lies. Though that didn’t seem to matter much.

Kafka sighed, looking away with a small sorrowful expression before pulling you into her lap, pressing kissed against your neck with her arms wrapped around your waist. You couldn’t help but melt into this, burying your face into her neck more, squeezing your arms around her waist for a moment before relaxing

“I’m sorry you felt that way, sweetheart.. How about I made it up that lost time, hm?” Kafka asked, her fingers going under my chin for a swift moment from her neck, pulling me into a kiss. It was loving and something I yearned for a lot as I groaned a little. It seemed like I wasn’t the only one to think that either with Kafka grabbing and holding you close which neither of you minded one bit.

After a few minutes, you both parted for air, lightly panting against each other as she smirked breathlessly. “You have no idea how much I missed this, (Name).” Before diving you back into another sweet kiss again.

authors note: hoped you guys liked it!! it was a redo from my first fic after deleting the acc like a dumb b earlier.

[cocoa-rococo]

Koopaling Headcanons: Ludwig

Larry | Morton | Wendy | Iggy | Roy | Lemmy | Ludwig

The composer of chaos and everyone's favorite composer, Ludwig! What a guy. I had to remake this post because I accidentally deleted the last one just shhhshshshsh it's fine

Naturally left-handed, but trained himself to be ambidextrous

He's disturbingly good at discerning people's motives, personalities, and past. He claims it's simple logic, but no one really knows how he does it.

Whenever Bowser’s in a pissy mood or feels agitated, Ludwig sometimes gets called in to play something soft and relaxing to calm him down.

There's rumors floating around the army that he was originally a Paratroop General who sold his wings in exchange for arcane powers in a Faustian bargain with Kamek. He's yet to confirm or deny this. (It’s not true, but he likes to keep his recruits on their toes).

Partially deaf in his left ear, and uses a hearing aid to assist him. Fluent in sign language, as well.

Has a baritone voice, very rich and darkly colored. He can hit high notes with relative ease, but can't hold them as long as he can with his lower notes.

His singing is enchanted. It's something he was born with, and he's gotten very good at controlling it. He does forget sometimes, and before he knows it, his humming down the street has attracted a plethora of birds.

Also fairly decent at mimicking bird calls. Iggy is dying to learn his secret.

Likes reading mystery novels and detective stories, but spaces them out so he doesn’t read the chapters all at once. He also uses Morton as a soundboard for theories in each chapter, and relishes the feeling of being smart if he solves it before the end.

One of the most magically powerful out of his siblings. He’s fairly decent at a little bit of everything, but his siblings are stronger with their specialization. His best field is in Evocation.

While piano is his preferred instrument, he plays several: violin, cello, pump organ, pipe organ, guitar, flute, clarinet, harp, harpsichord, and ocarina.

He’s an ugly crier and hates it, which is why he tries not to do it often.

Fond of gardenias and wisteria flowers.

One of his favorite down-time, out-and-about activities is going antiquing. He’s found a nice gramophone, a few records, and some furniture pieces for his room by doing so.

Likes having a physical, paper to-do list. It makes him feel productive and organized as he checks things off.

He and Wendy have ‘Bitch Lunch' together, where they basically talk shit about their coworkers, spill tea about their friends, and gossip the whole time

You can actually tell how long he's been composing by how dark his hands are with ink smudges. You can also tell how bad of a mood he’s in.

Loves the smell of coffee and vanilla, but leans more towards being a tea person. He's got an excellent palate for both, however.

Larry is persistently trying to introduce him to the keytar. Ludwig is persistently refusing to go near it.

Very much a morning person. He wakes up earlier than most of his siblings and likes having his hot drink and reading alone to enjoy the quiet hours before the rest of his family wakes up.

Love language is quality time, and a master of time management. He gets kinda tetchy when others don’t respect deadlines or appointments dates, and heaven help you if you intrude on his scheduled self-care hours.

He snorts when he laughs really hard, and is terribly embarrassed by it, so he tries to reign it in when he can. Anyone who can do it who isn't a sibling is a special person, indeed.

He likes tall places, especially the views. Great for a bit of peace from his siblings and inspiration for his music.

When his siblings are annoying him, he likes bombarding them with music puns. He is well aware he's being an ass and does not care.

Leaned more towards science as a kid, but discovered the piano when he was twelve, and creating music felt right in a way that making little inventions never did. He never looked back, and he’s a lot happier for it, too

Keeps a little pocket notebook on him for writing things down, and he's pretty dutiful about marking things in. It's a common gift his sibling get him on the holidays.

He doesn't have as much of a sweet tooth, but toffee — especially with almonds or coffee in it — is his weakness. His siblings have learned he can be bribed to look the other way if they have enough.

Also a fan of very dark chocolate, and his favorite pastry is a freshly-warm coffee cake

He's pretty alright at art, especially with acrylic paint and sketchier mediums like charcoal and conté, he just doesn't like how dirty his hands get afterwards. He's got a side business doing murals.

Favorite fruits are cherries and plums, but he also won’t turn down anything this blackberry in it.

Likes watching regency romance dramas in his alone time, but loves dragging the shit out of reality TV shows with Wendy

He also loves watching those foreign films with subtitles, very artful with a lot of emotion in them, especially if he's feeling spiteful and his little siblings are annoying, because "No, Luds, I don't want to read a film after two hours of paperwork!"

Has a small collection of model ships in bottles. He keeps them on a high, high shelf in his room, given his work environment. Ship kits are another common gift to him.

Looks at memes like an old man; both hands, squinty eyes, mouth slightly open. The others think this is hilarious.