thesoftieanon - Tumblr blog

thesoftieanon · 2 months ago

Text

This was a great way to start my morning lol

Glue trap shenanigans

Written for @portraitofalinkonfyre because they're literally the largest four simp I know!

Synopsis: You find a trapped minish and decide to help them out. Unfortunately for you, that minish is very literally a man. Double unfortunately for you, that man is the hero. Triple unfortunately for you, you accidentally asked him on a date

The morning sun hadn’t fully yet melted the dew that accumulated atop grass tips; but still, you were angry.

There wasn’t any light in the house, not even the dull ricochet from downstairs, and you knew immediately that the fire had been doused. The tips of your toes and the ends of your fingers were cold with the chill bite of autumn. A long sigh left your body, some will to rouse leaving with it as it became quickly apparent how the cold had seeped into your joints, stiffening them past their years and leaving you longing for just five more minutes.

Your head spun as you sat up, reeling from the stress of going to the ever-hectic market yesterday and the business of the day still to come.

You quietly thanked Hylia, for at least you wouldn’t have to return to the market. It was nothing bad, not extensively, these were the same faces and same vendors you grew up with. But the loud chatter so early and the delay on the first batches’ bake times just makes the day feel so much longer. Not to mention just how fussy people get when they have to wait an extra hour for their bread. You love bread, you own a bakery, but you don’t get why they get so grouchy.

Days where you have to go to the market are their own special punishment— just for you. Your back always hurts twice as much and the time passes at half the pace.

The beginning of your morning was mostly lacking in frustration, aside from the loop of your apron getting caught on the door handle and the floorboards being too cold as you sleepily stumbled around. You'd told Wren last night to keep the fire in the hearth lit, especially since you didn’t make enough money to afford one of those new steam heaters. But still, the fireplace was filled with only ash when you’d finally found some slippers and made your way downstairs.

Defeated, you pushed a few logs onto the iron rod supports, watching with quiet enamor as the fire ate away at the wood. A sharp wind shakes the windows in their panes, and you curse Wren for not following the instructions you laid out, inadvertently letting your house grow cold as dying as the trees. You took a moment to settle yourself when the doorbell rang. You could forgive Wren, and you most certainly would with time. She was just a child, hardly even 13. She really didn’t know better some of the time.

The fool currently blabbing to you, however, was old enough to know better.

Well old enough to know better.

Ammi wasn’t usually a horrible neighbour. In fact, you’d even bargain to say she was quite nice most of the time. She made you a tart when you moved in, bought your first ever loaf of bread, burnt as its’ heels were. She nodded and waved whenever she saw you in the streets or on your front porch, and all her house parties were quiet and ended at a reasonable hour; the adeius ending before the moon could settle its place in the sky.

But in this exact moment, you wanted nothing more than to grab her by her greys and chuck her into the street.

The prominent wrinkle between her brows settled deep as she looked over you, those warm eyes suddenly feeling lacking in welcome. Her hand grabbed your shoulder, an attempt as connection and sincere, all bony as they were.

“You’d better listen now, dear! I’ve seen so, so many of them these last few weeks.” Her voice was light– well intentioned, you’re sure. But still, you couldn’t trust yourself to force any words out, and she continued.

She liked to hear herself talk at times, but the company usually didn’t feel so intrusive. It was helpful on rainy days at the market or walking back from festivals at night, to have someone to carry the conversation. Especially given your lack of excitement when it comes to conversation. Unfortunately for you, it now meant being backed into a corner, figuratively and semi-literally.

Y’know, given slamming the door in her face wasn’t generally seen as a polite ending to a conversation.

“All you’d have to do is add some of that molasses you got for makin’ those ginger-knights and a little bit of bakin’ soda, and you’ll have all those little buggers right caught” She smiled, her smoker’s lines leading to the thin, lacquered line of her lips. She preened for a moment, proud of her discovery as you stood baffled.

“Din give me strength-“ You pinch at your furrowed brow as if it might help, “you’re trapping picori?” You finally trust yourself to ask after a cool breath dampens the fire that lived behind your ribs. You crossed your arms as best you can manage and leaned into your doorframe. At least it managed give you the support in the absolute dumbassery that was your neighbour’s reasoning.

“Oh please!” She bats a hand at you noncommittally, dismissing your worries as silly, and the action fans the dying embers to a healthy flame, “They’re rats! It’s not as if they have feelings. And anywho, we’d be doing them a favour from such a miserable life.” She pauses at the ringing of a bell, her fat cat rubbing at her ankles, begging for her undivided attention. Ammi bends down, struggling to pick up her chunky cat.

“Much better as snacks to Luci, huh?” Her voice defaults to that baby voice that everyone unanimously decided to be used on pets, nuzzling its little nose. The zapped wires of its whiskers wasn’t screaming ‘cute baby’ as much as it was screaming feral. Ammi turns her attention back to you, and she smiles as though you’d understand. As if you’d come around eventually. Your face scrunches in distaste at the woman in front of you, and her dreaded cat.

Sure, people had to eat and animals had to be slaughtered. Such was the way of life. But glue traps, got any animal were cruel— ensuring their last moments were spent suffering and struggling for freedom they could never get. And still, they’d die of exhaustion and hunger, drawing out their pain as long as possible.

But the Picori weren’t just animals. They were innocence and kindness and hope and the light of warm childhood lingering upon such a scary existence. And this woman has the utter gall to-

There’s the sound of wincing struggle, a hefty woosh, and a loud thud as something hits the floor with a solid smack. The vibrations move through the floorboards, even though the kitchen is a decent bit away.

“UH- Boss?!” Wren calls, light and panicky. Just like the bird. Just as innocent.

You sigh and through Ammi a look of exhaustion in the hopes that she’d get the que and back off already. Her eyes turn satisfied while she adjusts her woollen cardigan and catters something about going to the market and to save her some bread. You scoff, the only image your mind could conjure was of that cruel woman using it to lure poor, hungry animals.

When you do reach the kitchen, you see a lot more white than there’s supposed to be.

A lot more white.

In fact, it seemed as if flour had gotten everywhere. In every corner. In every appliance.

You felt your shoulders tense in some mix of bewilderment and belligerence, the anger from before now targeting anew on the waste of what must’ve been three whole sacks of flour.

“Look- I- I’m so sorry- I just saw you weren’t having a good morning so I thought I’d do the lifting for you since that’s your least favourite job, but they slipped and I-” She cuts herself off to finally look at you, and it seems as if her skeleton tried to jump from her skin in pure fear.

“Please- I really need this job, and I understand if you fire me but I’ll find some way to make it up! Dock my pay, I’ll work extra shifts, I’ll do anything just-”

“I’m not going to dock your pay, Wren” Your shoulders sag as the anger leaves you as empty as your fireplace. Cold as soot. She shuffles awkwardly in place, too scared to do anything else it seems. Too scared to make another mistake.

“It’s ok, really. It happens. We make mistakes. I, much worse at your age. I’d be a hypocrite to punish you” You manage a light chuckle, and that seems to put her at ease that nothing will happen to her by your hand. “I’ll have to get more flour, so you can clean this up while I go to the market to get more.”

“But you’ll miss sales-”

“And I’ll miss even more if you keep fretting” Your voice holds a chaotic whimsy that returns a similar smile to her face.

“So let's get to it!”

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The market was crisp and cold, as it usually was around mid autumn. The shades of the leaves, the burn of the air in the back of your throat, the smell of the first few batches of spiced wine, it was all beautiful.

There were less people out and about than in the spring and summer, but it was nice to have the beauty to yourself. You were alone, but you were by no means lonely. You handed over a small bag of rupees to the man from the mills and ached as you took two bags on each shoulder. The air was just cold enough to sap the warmth form your joints and leave you stiff, the journey to haul the bags back to your house now twice as arduous. You focused on anything you could to take away from the pain. The slightly wobbly cobblestones as you walk onto your street, the plumes of white smoke from chimneys of your neighbours, the rattle of brittle branches in the wind, the soft squeaking by your ankle- The what?

You looked down towards your ankle as you stood upon the stoop and realised dully there was nothing there. Empty space. You huffed, about to kick on the door with your foot (the closest thing to a knock as you could about get), when you heard the squeaking be joined by the satanic growl of Luci. You looked over at the crooked little hellspawn before you realised that it was about to pounce upon something caught in one of Ammi’s little traps.

Holy fuck it was a Picori.

You unceremoniously drop the flour, ironic, your previous efforts forgotten in favour of now saving your new friend. By the time you leapt from your doorstep to Ammi’s, the cat had begun to pounce, claws fully extended. Your freezing knuckles wrapped around the trap with enough time to save the small mouse from the flurry of attacks. Your knuckles were bleeding; but as you peeled back your hands to see your small friend, you saw he was unharmed.

You scurry over to your house, opening the door frantically. All the meanwhile, the small body in your hands tried everything short of biting you to get out. You try to keep your composure as you rich to the kitchen, thankful to see Wren almost finished cleaning. Her eyes don’t catch on the dripping red blood, entirely focused on the stubborn flour in the cracks of the hardware she’d set to clean.

“Uh- I sliced my hand on the way over- would you mind taking in the bags while I dress my cut?” Your voice is too high-pitched to make the request seem unsuspicious, but she leaves without casting you a thorough glance. One of the few times you could thank her naivety. She beams a smile while throwing her tea towel over her shoulder, turning on the ball of her foot to make steadfast for the door; and so it seems that’s the last of your inspection. You set down the trap and finally get a good look at the small creature squirming about.

He’s small of course, they all are, dressed in his own small clothes. His tunic is sewn and embroidered into quadrants, with each little seam holding its own careful pattern and detail. Among the tiny motifs you see the weaving lines of kinestones, all leading back to the clover leaves where the quadrants meet. His little feet were wrapped in little booties of surprisingly fine leather, though it was hard to see in the thickened molasses tacked over them. His fur coat was a light blonde, the hair lengthened to frame the small face in something akin to a bob. Scraping against the wood backing of the trap was a tiny sword at his back, scabbard scratching at the wood as it used all of what little might it had to try and pull free.

You can swear for just the briefest moment that you’d seen it before in some sort of folklore… but the thought escapes you before you can seem to place it.

The differences were stark from the usual picori, the whole ensemble surprisingly ornate, something you’d usually assume the wealthy might wear if they were full size garments.

“Hey…” You started, but didn’t really know where you were going with this, much less where it would end. Finally, He stopped to turn to you, giving up the struggle of pulling his mitts from the tack.

“I know how to get you out, there’s no need to tire yourself out” You chuckle lightly, half at the way the thing squints at you in some mix of indignation and incredulousness, and half for the sheer oddity of your situation.

Most sane people don’t stand about in their kitchen trying to assure trapped magic mice, but to your defence, when he finally did cease the struggle and turn its attention upon you, his eyes were so… knowing?

Animals were sentient, sure, but fully conscious? …That’s a stretch.

Still, both beady eyes stayed affixed on you, the tips of small ears flicking slightly whenever you'd mutter something to yourself.

Warm water would dissolve the molasses, and oil could help separate the fur while incurring as little damage as possible. Good, gentle oil was harder to come by, most of it sourced from other domains, sent through merchants and sold for the rich. You supposed olive oil could work in the pinch, so long as you rinsed it off well enough.

Settling for that, you set the glue trap down and headed into the stores, chuckling at how the little head followed you wherever you went. You hefted up the metle container of pressed oil and poured some into one of your soup bowls, setting it back where it was, mindful to close the lid.

Bowl of oil in hand, and surprisingly docile (surprisingly armed) magic mouse by your side, you snuck upstairs just in time to check on Wren in the doorway as she tried her best to waddle from the front to the store room with a sack of flour. Credit where it was due, you doubted you could’ve done much better than her at her age.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Your actual private living space was much less adorned than the downstairs area. Most working folk didn’t spend time in their private quarters. You awoke in a room with bare, white walls, in sheets that you scraped together to afford when you bought the house, and got ready with clothes weaved by hands and from wool which both were birthed and would likely die in this town.

Only those who could afford to lie in bed, or dress in clothes brought from foreign lands, would see to decorating their private quarters. Your bathing room was much similar to the rest of the private quarters, plain outside of the necessities. Sink, soap cabinet, copper basin for the water, towels hung, only what you needed. You set your little friend down and rolled up your sleeves, drawing water into the copper bath and lighting the small fire beneath it so it may warm.

You take a moment to sigh, meaning over the bath with your forearms braced on the thick lips of the copper. You take a moment to accept how off-kilter the day had gotten from the usual routine of bread and sales.

When you do finally lift your head, it’s to look at the picori, who stands as politely as one could when stuck in a glue trap.

“You stayin’ in those clothes?” You draw up the strength to conjure words for your audience who can't reply. He nods fervorously, to the point where the flat foundation of the glue trap begins to rock back and forth.

Beneath the golden fur, you can almost imagine the flush taking over its face by how it covers its face when it thinks you aren't looking.

You laugh, using the tips of your fingers to stop him from falling flat on his back. Would it really be flat given his back was stuck about an inch into the glue trap?

You suppose not, but it's an entertaining mental debate you’ll shelve for the next time it’s a slow day.

Now, instead, you snuff out the fire beneath the bath and pick up the trap, using your other hand to test the temperature of the water. Just warmer than lukewarm, a comfy temperature that could still dissolve all that molasses. You remove the little green hat atop its head, minding the little clack the gold bird charm makes as it’s set against your tile.

He wriggles slightly to loops its tiny chin over where your hands are cupped around him, trying his best to stay above the water. You work first massaging the warm water against the tacky sort of glue, loosening it to a sort of thicker liquid. By the time it's mostly melted, you dip one set of fingertips into the oil and massage away what’s left of the stickiness from where it's gripping onto the fur. Some gentle pressure and scraping with your nails, the majority of the sticky substance removes itself from the roots of the fur. Cleaning the clothes still on the little body and the feathery tail is actually much harder than the fur, given how the oil can stain the clothes and the delicacy of the tail. But with a dip in the warm water and some soap, most of the oil lifts from the fabric. With gentle care, you can pry the tacky board from his feet, allowing him to finally relax in your hold. Out of some minor curiosity, you use the very edge of your nail to scritch at his scalp, and are delightedly met with a choir of happy squeaks as he nuzzles into your hands.

Not long after, his large eyes flutter, sleepy after all that effort of trying to free themselves and the warmth of the water.You keep the small body tightly wrapped in your palms so they can leech of that warmth and stay cozy. And cozy it was, given how they try to burrow into you as they sleep away, one of the highest compliments. Your hand leaves for a moment to take a towel off the rack, your hand freezing halfway as the most pitiful whine leaves the form in your hands. You look down to see worried little eyes, groggy and confused as to where all the warmth went.

“Oh shush” You grabbed the towel, slipping it over your wrist so your hand could return to the picori in your grasp.

“See? I have you now, you don’t need to worry” You assure quietly, hiding your amusement as he begins to make himself cozy again. You know you can’t hold him forever, unfortunately, you did need to work.

And so began the plot to find the warmest place in the house. Your sleeping quarters were above the kitchen… and with the ovens on all day, the heat would make its way up. You nudge the door open with your hip, lest it keep squeaking at you in defiance whenever you remove your hands. You nestle the comically large bundle of towel among the pillows and watch in amusement as he cozies up against the pillows.

All considering how immensely unprepared you were, you considered this a great success.

You return to the bathroom to wrap up your now no longer bleeding knuckles, cursing at the little bird charm at the end of the small green hat, left discarded on the tile. Hylia- it was small but painful. You put the little hat in your pocket, laughing at the mental image of trying to explain this to someone. Oh yeah! My neighbour traps and feeds mythical rodents to her devil cat and it scratched me when I was trying to stop it.

Honestly, if you weren’t so crucial to the village, you’re sure they’d send you to a convent.

You laugh with each step down the warped wooden stairs and back into the kitchen, where Wren already began with the first batch of bread. Time passed quickly in the bakery. You always seem to get so absorbed in your work that you never realise the time passing you by. It was hardly ever now that you’d actually work baking. Wren, friendly as she was, didn't have her wits about her; and you’re certain that if she were to run sales, then every loaf of bread would be given away for free. There was nothing wrong with the front of house, but it wasn’t as if you opened a bakery because you wanted to talk to people. The conversations and the camaraderie and drama of the townsfolk were entertaining in some sense, but damn did you just like making bread. It was nice, after the hectics of the morning, to just spend your day doing something you liked, even if you had to stop every few minutes to explain to someone why their regular bread wasn’t out yet.

Late in the afternoon, after all the folks stopped by for whatever baked goods they needed, you split from cleaning the last counter to check in on the picori upstairs. The sun was fading out by now, the sky a brilliant mix of blues and pink, and you’d hate for him to just end up lost.

Frustrated squeaking filled the quiet expanse of your bedroom as the little fiend struggled against his bindings (soft towel wrapping). You waited for him to tire himself out slightly, not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of more animal injuries. You weren’t certain of how sharp their swords could be, but you were certain that you didn’t fancy finding out if the hat was anything to go by. He lets you unwrap him from the towel, and seems fairly understanding that it’s time to go. You walk downstairs, making sure he isn’t jostled too much by the movement, and take a seat on the mossy stump a little ways back from your house.

“Alright bud, this is it” You gently set him down, tilting your hand so he can slide off with little effort.

“Hope you enjoyed your stay, but it’s home time now” He scurries off for a few steps, tail bobbing and swishing with each step before he stops abruptly in his tracks. He turns around and pats his head, his little mitts held out to you expecting. What? Was this goodbye to them or- Oh that’s right he had a hat!

You shuffle about in your pocket, eventually retrieving his little pointed hat, and placing it among his hands. You watched as he shuffled it about on his head, making sure the placement was perfect. Suddenly, he straightened, turning to face you, with those beady eyes bearing into you silently. Oddly, you feel a great amount of understanding between the two of you, just trying to get by and caught up in a greater web of things than you hoped. He lets out a string of squeaks you guess are supposed to make a sentence, and kneels in gratitude,regarding you for the entirety of the moment as you stand to leave.

“Don’t even mention it” You held up a hand in dismissal of the grand gesture, pausing short when you do get an idea “well- maybe mention it to your friends. I don’t wanna see any of the rest of ya getting trapped, ok?” You raise your eyebrows expectantly, the whole embarrassment of talking to a rodent entirely out the window. Still, he nods, a pleased twinkle in his literal orbs for eyes, and scurries off to the safety of the foliage.

The next morning begins similarly to the last, lighting the fire in the hearth. Unfortunately (well, you suppose fortunately to the picori population) there’s no valid reason for you to forgo your usual work at the front of house. The first loaves of bread and savoury pastries are out when Wren arrives, the door handle nearly slamming a hole through your wall with how excited she was. You liked making bread, but this seemed like a bit much… even for her. She sets down her things and scrambles for an apron, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for you to finish up.

“That’s 15 for the bread… and five for the pastry, so 20 rupees is your total” You try your best to ignore the jittering ball of energy just behind you as the old man fished for a red rupee.

“Thank you, have a nice day now” He slides it across the counter, the small jem making little clinks against your uneven counter. He’s hardly even turned to walk away when Wren starts up.

“Ok so I know you don't really like it when I work the front but I really reeeeeaaallly want to just for today- I mean think about it it’d be really good experience and if I don’t learn now then I’ll never learn, and I’m not saying you’re a bad boss I’m just saying that my whole point of being here is to learn and I need to-” You never knew someone could talk so fast. You’ve heard bees buzz at a slower pace.

“Take it.” Your words are blunt as you step into the back, retreating into your comfy corner away from all the people.

“Really?!”

“By the three- please.”

And as the hours passed, and foot traffic slowed, she was no less excited. You were half convinced that purely for the fact of her motivation alone, you’d let her run sales.

The last tray of bread had been packaged when you finally got around to closing up. All the sourdough starters had been fed, all the floors swept, all the counters wiped. All you really had to do was count up the till and go feed the ducks before it got too dark out. The whole day passed in a flurry of familiar work. Mixing, kneading, resting, re-kneading, re-resting, glazing, baking, cooling, bagging, all mixed in a jumble of orders to the demand of the customers. And soon it’d all be don-

“Hey boss?” Wren hung off the doorframe, a far too mischievous smile on her face to mean anything good for you. The type of plotting smile, juvenile.

“...What?”

“There’s a guy out here.” She looked proud of herself, as though she’d caught you among some scandal. It wasn’t the first time she’d accuse some poor bloke of catching interest in you, and you’re sure this wouldn’t be the last. But you still failed to see why she thought it was necessary to come get you. If anything, it was more in character for her to go prying them for information.

“Ok? Can’t you deal with him?”

“He asked for you. Specifically” She waggled her eyebrows, the utter scandal of the situation practically confirmed in her mind. Oh how the gossip mills were… milling. You sighed, unsure of what even warrants someone asking specifically for you. Wren could be a bit much, but it's hardly anything that needs to be taken up with you. You rubbed your eyes, squinting as the thinnest stream of sunlight split from the tops of the buildings, winding down for the evening. You get a good look at the man in front of you and actually stop walking– one foot in the air and all.

He had to look up at you, courtesy of both the slightly raised staff portion of the storefront and the fact he was short. His eyes shined in apparent amusement, complimented by the boyish smirk tugging at his lips and the challenge in his brow. The sun drifted lower and caught upon his hair, making the straw color alight to fine threads of spun gold. Unassuming at first, but all of a sudden priceless. The four quadrants of his tunic were equally as vibrant as they were yesterday and thankfully unstained by the oil, each stitch of the embroidery now visible to you.

Holy fuck the picori was a man.

Ok now life was just being unfair- what are you even supposed to say to that?! Screw the village sending you to the temple, you might just do it yourself at this rate.

The man gets a kick out of your utter shock, leaning with his forearms on the display case and laughing. Besides your burnt frustration, you laughed alongside him, bracing your hands on your thighs. Your stomach burned as you laughed at the nonsensical fairytale your life had spiralled into as of late. Your cheeks burned as your eyes settled upon him again, fond as an old friend.

“I was told you requested me?” You tease, raising an eyebrow in an attempt to heckle him.

“No, I just wanted bread” He defends, trying to cover his tracks as best he could.

“Mhm. Sure” You roll your eyes, “What’d you want?” You gesture to what you have left, slim as it may be. He looks about the small collection, sneaking looks at you as he does before picking a short loaf. Its rounded sourdough, filled with nuts and dried fruit, not really common outside of your village as far as you’d know.

“You sure?” You ask looking between him and the bread, “Not sure they have this where you’re from” It’s as much a dig at him being a literal rat as it is genuine question. He laughs still, cheeks reddened and eyes almighty.

“I mean… c’mon, it’s bread. Can’t be that different, right?” He raises an eyebrow, amused by your bread gatekeeping.

“Well… Usually, people share this over some spiced wine, dip it in n’ all that” You explain, caught off guard by just how intently he follows along, hanging off your every word.

“Oh great.” He hods, finally, while sliding you entirely too much money. He takes the bread and a few steps back before you could stop him.

“Then we could share!” He smiles, bright and unrestrained this time, beaming with a joy that worms its way into your heart.

“Uh- I mean we totally could, but you don't have to-” You backtrack through your explanation, not trying to force him into a date for your care.

“Great!” He nods. “It’s a date!” Oh dear. “I’ll meet you outside” Oh goddesses.

He turns his back as he walks out of your modest storefront, and it finally hits you from where you’d seen that sword before.

Oh goddesses.

There’s no way you just accidentally asked the hero out on a date.

#lu reblog #softie reblogs #lu four

261 notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 2 months ago

Note

I raise you

Here's where you buy it

OH ENNO DIDNT TELL YALL ABOUT ENNOS BOOK

*rolls up sleeves* imma fix that

It’s an isekai where our lovely protagonist (Edith? gets reincarnated as the villainess of a dating sim/otome game (Princess Soirse)

We’ve got a shenanigans-filled cast, Soirse trying to figure out how to not have the game’s plot line come to pass, uncooperative siblings, lots of sass and mischief, Soirse learning to accept being loved, Prince Valentin (who you’ll meet when you read the book!) learning to accept friendship (and also possibly an engagement to Soirse), a thirteen year old teddy bear of a jr. knight, magic, lore, lots of secrets in this book (and lots more secrets to uncover in the next book(s)!).

Enno I know you neither asked for nor consented to this promotion because I didn’t tell you I was doing this one either, but please post a picture of the back of your book under this post, since Tumblr won’t let me do that in an anonymous ask. The people deserve to see the official teaser!

- glitter ✨

This…. Sounds so scripted…. Also I dont know where my listing photos are on my phone. So I aint doing that XD

#softie reblogs #softie plugs friends book

12 notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 2 months ago

Note

Hi Softie! *aims bow at you*

You were a thief. You lived with your friend Karlach in a tiny apartment on the very edge of Baldur’s Gate. Making rent was hard, so you turned to petty theft. You have been making good use of the skills your husband taught you in your previous life – you started this reincarnation with much higher slight of hand than you otherwise would have had any right to. With a little training, you’re just as good as Astarion ever was at lockpicking. You hope he had a good life, it’s been about four hundred years since your passing. At this point, you doubt even Halsin is still kicking, surely your beloved vampire had found some way to move on by now. You really ought to check on his grave—you shake your head. Now’s not the time for that, you scold yourself as you continue to crawl through the vent of the rather large mansion you found in the Upper City. You’re looking for this month’s rent, or you and Karlach are gonna be out in the sewers.

Bingo. You exit in what appears to be the master bedroom. Two walk in closets. Absurd. You pick the one that seems to belong to the lady of the house and… oh—wow her style is immaculate. Dresses, pants, skirts, blouses, necklaces, bracelets, earrings and the shoes. Whomever this lady is, her taste is the exact same as your own. This is exactly what you imagine your closet would look like if you were rich and could afford to purchase such things. You glance down at the tear in the sleeve of your shirt with a sigh. In your past life, Astarion would have tsked at you when you came home with such a large tear in your clothes, affectionately scolding you about taking care of your things while he sewed it up almost as good as new. You never did figure out exactly when he took to embroidering little hearts along the inside of all his clothing repairs, but -- even with only a four hundred year old memory of his secret little reminders that he’d been the one to fix your shirts -- looking at a tear in your sleeve hurt your heart, since you knew he wasn’t around to repair it anymore.

You found a safe in the back of the closet. You disarm the various booby traps on it, only burning through about three trap disarm toolkits in the process and find what appear to be the most expensive pieces in this lady’s collection. You grab a simple but elegant diamond necklace. This should feed you and Karlach for a few months and hopefully isn’t unique enough to be recognized. You learned the hard way long ago that you can’t ever wear any of the things you take, you’ll get caught. So you’ll just take this and sell it and hope to the gods you don’t run into the thieves’ guild or the Zhentarim while you’re at it. The last thing you need is either organization trying to recruit you into their folds.

You turn to leave the closet only to almost bump into a man… who gives off no body heat. Undead, then. An undead man who was opening the closet. He drops the bag he was holding and catches you in a, frankly, painful grip and yanks you into the light.

“What in the hells are you doing in my wife’s closet?!” he snaps. You’d know that indignant voice anywhere. You look up with wide eyes to see his handsome face exactly as you remember it. Well… not quite exactly. The exhaustion with life that he had when you first met him has returned. Has he… been alone these last four hundred years--? Having to watch all your friends, even Halsin, grow old and pass on without him? Your heart aches as his eyes widen.

“No. It can’t be. This is— this isn’t possible.” A rage you haven’t seen on his face since he spoke to you of the torture Cazador put him through fills his face. His dagger, one you gave him, is at your neck. “How dare you impersonate my beloved?! In my own home!?” He bares his fangs at you, eyes dangerous. Not once in your life have you ever truly felt threatened by this man, even that one time he threatened to kill you. Now, though? Holy shit your husband could be scary when he wants to be.

“Asty—Asty it’s me. Seriously. Uhhhhh—” You wrack your brain for something, anything, to say to him to convince him. Then you recall a conversation that he would never, ever have repeated to anyone, and would never have forgiven you for repeating yourself.

“You dissociated the first time we had sex.” You say as bluntly as you can manage, and he freezes. You continue, “I didn’t know about what Cazador had made you do, at the time, but I caught you zoning out, so nothing actually happened our first time. You cried when I told you that.”

And there are tears in his eyes now.

The dagger clatters to the ground and you’re crushed against his chest in the tightest bear hug you’ve ever received. One arm wraps securely around your back, his other hand is against the back of your head. He buries his face into your hair and his entire body wracks with sobs as you return the hug as tightly as you can.

“It really is you. You—you—how??” He manages through his tears.

To be completely honest, you’re not sure. You tell him everything you do know, which is that you and Karlach reincarnated into roughly the same neighborhood and grew up together, that Wyll and Shadowheart joined your little friend group in high school, and that you robbed Gale blind one day on the street. That last comment gets a weak laugh from him.

“I taught you well, Darling, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes you did. So well I even broke into—oh.” You freeze and start to step back, brow furrowing as it feels like a stake’s been driven through your heart, even if you didn’t want him to spend the rest of his unnaturally long life alone “…your wife’s closet.”

His eyes widen, “no. no no no no no no. Darling, no. This is your closet.”

…

“What?” you gape at him like a fish.

He takes a deep breath, raising an eyebrow at you like you’ve just asked a very silly question, “it’s your closet. Obviously. What? Did you think I would stop buying you little presents when you died? Of course not. I kept buying or making things only to remember you were gone and so I needed somewhere to put them. I couldn’t bear to just throw away something I knew you would have loved! That would have been—” he trails off, choosing his words “that would have been like declaring you completely, utterly gone. Which I refused to do. Obviously.” He gestures around the house “once I finally managed to amass a fortune, which happened about two hundred years after you passed, I was also finally able to buy you nice things like I had always wanted to do while you were with me. It—it helps, a little, to pick up something at the market that you would like and to keep your closet clean and maintained. That way—that way I could make sure I never forg—”

You cut him off by yanking him down by the collar of his shirt and you kiss him senseless.

-glitter ✨

I'm not crying you're crying ;^;

#astarion #softie rambles #astarion x tav #reincarnation au #thanks glitter

2 notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 3 months ago

Text

Ngl, that actually worked

kill the imposter syndrome in your head because not only is there someone out there doing it worse than you, they’re also using chat gpt to do it

#softie reblogs #softie rambles #you're right #I AM better than that person

132K notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 3 months ago

Note

A quick questions if your okay with it.

For your mafia one

How does hesper handle her child being taken away by her husband and disappear for six years?

What was her first reaction to finding out about her baby being alive and in the chain care? As well her first time meeting her baby after six years?

Enjoy your day or night

- 🌙

Oh, how lovely of you to ask that!

Because, fun fact, her Shadow was sent to kill her husband and retrieve her child

So when he comes back with no child

After she's been freaking out trying to hunt down her kid for six years

Well, let's just say there's a reason half his ear is missing when Time visits.

As for how she responds to seeing that child for the first time in six years?

Awkwardly. She can't figure out how to act around this child- and they're hers.

She cries after their playdate.

She's a terrible mother. Not just because she lost her child, but she doesn't even remember how to be one. Had she ever learned to begin with?

She never should have trusted that man.

She's planning out how to track Time down if he decides he's going to suddenly vanish with her kid.

... Strangely enough, he never does.

#softie rambles #linked universe au #mafia hesper #mafia au #blind child

2 notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 3 months ago

Text

Oooo 👀

Taking a break from one book to work on another :D

#softie reblogs #softie rambles #I'm eating this book

15 notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 3 months ago

Text

Lesbian Tragedy Hesper??? 👀👀

Doodle of siren kid hesper and mermaid

Hesper belongs to @thesoftieanon

Lore story

Hesper as a kid met this strange mermaid due to her mother remarried a seafolk noble who's connected to royal Court.

This mermaid makes sure that hesper and that her baby brother sol is safe and is genuinely have a good friendship with hesper

Til hesper mother have the mermaid *removed* since hesper mother is training hesper to be a killer siren

Hesper felt devastate and horrible to believe that she had been killed and determined to keep sol safe from their mother

Once hesper older and found out the true of her friend is order to be Exiled from the sea

Hesper did try looking for her friend but end up not finding her til one day

She finds a child who looks very like her friend (which leads to the story of how she met this child)

Hesper strangely felt the need to protect this child and doesn't know why til the child touch the water

The child show the same markings as her long lost friend but realized that this child is her friend baby which means her friend have a child with a human

Hesper now vows to protect this child and slowly grow addicted to the child

She later found out her friend died bring this child to the world, and her body turns to seaform

#softie was tagged #softie rambles #the dramaaaaa

9 notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 4 months ago

Text

Oh btw @cafecourage has a book here's the website

#go on #shake me #it's worth it #softie rambles

8 notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 4 months ago

Text

Oh btw @cafecourage has a book here's the website

#softie rambles #softie plugs friends book #original book

8 notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 5 months ago

Text

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

315K notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 6 months ago

Text

I am definitely calling myself that because if I tried to pick anything else, you'd call me out XD

Tag Yourself: Linked Universe Edition ✨

(Open for better quality)

#softie reblogs #softie rambles #linked universe #linkeduniverse

3K notes · View notes

thesoftieanon · 6 months ago

Text

As a Palworld enjoyer, the Pals act exactly as expected XD

PALWORLD Meets the Chain

Another Commission!

They wanted Twilight, Wild, and Sky with a Reader who comes from Palworld/interacting with the Pals. I hope I delivered it well enough because I know nothing of Palworld. Friends had to be consulted.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Wild

Wild was fascinated.

There were no other words to describe what he was feeling. He knew, to a degree, that there were animals that one could train and use to help out with day to day life but you… You took it somehow to a whole other level.

The creature that followed you was a lot like the foxes that he saw in his world but the tail was concerningly on fire.

Wild watched you from the sidelines at the beginning. It didn’t last for very long. Without a word from anyone, you’d need only to snap your fingers and the little fire fox would run away, only to return with firewood, placed neatly into a pile by his foot.

“Sorry,” You’d say every time. “They like to be helpful. I didn’t think they’d pick on that you were about to start dinner yet.”

“It’s fine,” Wild would play along. “I don’t mind it. It saves the rest of us the trouble.”

Moving the little pile of wood was easy enough. Setting the stones around them for a proper fireplace was child’s play. Wild reached into his Sheikah Slate for some flint and a dagger to spark a small light. Without warning, the little fox had sneezed and set the little pile of wood into a small blaze.

Wild had froze, staring with awe at the sight in front of him. “...Well that was convenient.”

The little fox looked proud of itself.

You laughed on the sidelines as the little fox-like creature trotted back up to your side. Wild watched as you pet the furry friend on the head, giving him little scratches behind the ear with a small giggle on your lips as you did so. His finger slips in his distraction and he nicks the tip of his thumb with his knife.

Biting back the curse before anyone could notice, he bit his nail and quickly took care of the sharp stinging pain before blood would weep from the cut.

“Are you ok, Champion?” You asked him, turning to him after the commotion he’s caused.

“Oh, yeah, of course, never better.” He lies with ease. It’s a shame he’s such an obvious liar. Wild’s left ear twitched at the thought. He’s not fond of being caught in broad daylight, however, so he’s quick to change the subject. “What did you want for dinner?”

“Anything would suffice,” You said with a dazzling smile that left Wild momentarily distracted. He failed to notice that the little fox was slowly making its way back to Wild. “You know I’m not picky. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to make. You’re a great cook.”

He tries to give you his flattest look, but the mirth is still on his lips. “I appreciate the compliment but that doesn’t really help me with ideas.” Taking out the cutting board, Wild looked through his slate for a moment, trying to think of what he could make on such short notice. It had been a while since they’d stocked up on food. He was running low. “Chicken?”

He took out a few pieces and placed them on the cutting board. “And come potatoes and carrots?”

“Works for me!” You cheered.

“Perfect.” Wild grinned and began to take out as many potatoes as his hands could carry.

“How come you never ask us what we want to eat?” Warrior called out from somewhere behind him. “We can give you ideas too you know.”

“I don’t need to ask you,” Wild deadpans, switching to the carrots. “You lot just yell at me what you want to eat while we walk or in the middle of battle.”

“You could still do us the courtesy of asking us-”

“Wild look out!” You cried.

Wild perked up but it was too late. A flash of orange zipped past his leg and away from the cooking fire, sitting itself as far as possible to enjoy the stolen treat. Wild looked back to the cutting board at once and scowled.

“It stole the chicken!” He shouted, outraged and indignant.

You started laughing.

Twilight

Twilight liked to consider himself a man who wasn’t afraid of anything.

When shadows overtook his homeland, he didn’t want his fear to override his need for justice. His loyalty to his friends was second to none and wasn’t about to sit back and allow anything bad to happen to the people he cared about.

When the dust had settled and the light came back, he wasn’t as surprised as perhaps he should have been when the first portal appeared. Without thinking much about the consequences, he went through it, assured that whatever was about to meet him on the other side was messing with things it shouldn’t.

Which brought him to this moment.

A large dog-like creature growled at him, poised to attack at any moment.

He nearly snarled back, reaching behind to grab his sword. Twilight never liked the idea of hurting animals but he wasn’t about to let this canine have his way with him. The creature was larger than he was as a wolf. The maw, legs, tail, and second portion of the mane were white. The rest of the beast was as black as night.

“No!” You screamed from the other side of the trail. “Don’t hurt my Direhowl!”

“How about he doesn’t hurt me instead?” Twilight yelled back, not once taking his eyes off of the Direhowl in front of him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You say again, running up to him and taking the beast by the scruff of the neck. “I thought he wouldn’t be like this after a while but I guess it’s because you’re a new face. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t he’d be as sorry as you are.” Twilight bared his teeth ever so slightly.

“Bad dog!” You shout.

Both Twilight and the Direhowl perked up at the words and turned to look at you. You were glaring down at the creature, who, to Twilight’s amusement, began to look rather sheepish. His amusement quickly turned to subtle embarrassment when he realized that he was just as affected by your tone as the canine in front of him.

Twilight put his sword back in its sheath.

Clearing his throat with a cough, Twilight patted down his clothes and rubbed his palms. “If that’s everything, I’m going to check the perimeter.”

“Yeah… Yeah, good idea. Again, I’m really sorry about all this-”

He holds up his hand. “Don’t worry about it. No harm done. Just keep a tighter leash on him.”

He leaves it at that, walking far away to be out of earshot. Without thinking twice, Twilight takes out the shadow crystal and transforms into his wolf body. As per usual, his senses change. Colors were no longer as vibrant, his sense of smell strengthened tenfold, his hearing tripled in range, and his vision both sharpened and lowered to the ground.

He began his trip around the perimeter checking for various signs of mischief or danger if possible. It was old hat for him and he thanked the golden three above that there was nothing to report back on once his check was complete.

That is until he heard a now familiar growl.

He growled back without question, poising his body onto the ground to strike if the Direhowl tried anything. “Oh stop it!” He snarled. “You’re not the biggest beast here.”

“Big words for a tiny dog.” The voice responded. It was deeper than Twilight anticipated for his wolf ears. The Direhowl walked in front of him. “Am I supposed to feel threatened?”

“If you kill me, the others will never forgive you.” Twilight tries a different approach. Because yes, he was, in fact, bigger than him even in this form. “And they’ll take your human and kick them out for the group for treachery.”

That seems to set the Direhowl back a few steps. His loyalty was also unquestionable.

“They wouldn’t.”

“They would.”

A pregnant pause followed before the Direhowl sat down instead. “You’re the one they call Rancher.”

Twilight followed his example and sat down as well with a nod. “I am.”

“...I don’t like you.” The Direhowl glares. “But my human likes you. So I suppose that’s enough to save your skin.”

Twilight had to fight not to roll his eyes. “Charming. I’m forever grateful.”

Sky

“This is awesome!” You shout as you fly through the skies around Skyloft.

Sky laughed and followed you, playfully getting a bit closer than strictly necessary. The heat of your bird was undeniable. Sky could feel the heat of the feathers on his cheek. His loftwing was off-put, unsure about the lack of safe space from the creature beside it.

You pushed off, giving him space to fly in the direction with an indignant squawk. “Hey!”

Sky laughed.

Laughing yourself, you also push him in the air, his loftwing banking left to keep a safe distance between the two of you. “Hey now!” Sky shouted, a large smile on his face. “That’s not fair. Are you trying to set us on fire?”

It’s a tease. He’s well aware that he started it.

Without replying, you bank off to the right and land your bird on one of the many smaller islands around Skyloft. Sky followed you, landing a considerable distance away so that your bird didn’t bother his loftwing. You had warned him before you both set off for the flight that he was aggressive and prone to attack on sight.

As much as Sky trusted you and trusted your judgment, he didn’t want any harm coming to his loftwing.

“Was he getting tired?” Sky asked once the birds were settled. He tossed some treats to distract the loftwing and keep his energy up before jogging to close the distance. “I have extra fruits if that’s what he eats.”

The bird hissed as Sky got close. He paused in his tracks, not taking his eyes off of the volatile bird.

“No, no, no,” You wave him off with a slightly embarrassed smile. “He’s a ragnahawk. I found him living in a volcano and his kind only eats rocks. I have a few in my bag.”

“I’m sorry-” Sky reels back for a moment. “Did I just hear you correctly?”

“Yes. Rocks.” You giggle. “Don’t worry, he has the stomach to handle it.”

“...Right.” Sky awkwardly pockets the snacks once more. Clearing his throat, Sky looked up at the red bird as you tossed it rocks once at a time. He admired the feathers. The colors were much like those of his loftwing’s but the tips of the wings were completely yellow with black lines on the edges. The sickening crunching sound was a little offputting but there was an unmistakable birdy joy as it ate its treats. “So long he’s being taken care of, I suppose.”

“What does your bird eat?” You pocketed the last of the “snacks” and turned back to Sky. “I doubt it’s rocks like this beast.” You use your eyes to gesture back to the ragnahawk with a bright smile on your face.

Sky shrugs. “Fruit mostly. But they live on their own islands. So we’re not entirely sure what it is that they eat. We just know they usually accept our treats when we give them. Each one has their own taste, though. They’re a bit picky like that.”

You nod. The information sounds familiar. “Each has their own personality. I can respect that.”

The silence turns comfortable as you both look out to the expanse of the Skyloft and the surrounding islands. You let out a wistful sigh and step forward. “Your world is beautiful. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see anything like it.”

“It’s not much,” Sky smiles bashfully. “The surface world has much more to offer than our little island.”

“Nonsense, I like this.” You turned to him. “Will you show me more?”

“Of course! Is your bird ready to fly again?”

“Ready whenever you are!”

Sky laughed, jumping off of the ledge “Perfect! Let’s go!”

#softie reblogs #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu sky #lu twilight #lu wild

100 notes · View notes