#but still we won't be too overconfident

[ramayantika]

Lol I was scared of this answer

#samridhi speaks #but still we won't be too overconfident #I have the rest of the day which I shall spend here only because some of them are nervous and I don't want the same too #we will keep practicing answer writing that way I will know how exactly the exam scenario would be to have nervousness #and God forbid the urge to slap someone's head off if they ask kitna padhi tu everytime they find their eyes on me #sabka paper hai kal akele ka nahi hai sab padh rahe hai itna agar chull hai chup chap padhne baith jake #naki puchte raho sabko bhai ya behen batana kitna hua #I will then write a bit for my chapter later and finish the day

[baiwu-jinji]

TGCF author's notes translation

@/camilikha on twitter kindly provided links to TGCF author's notes and I translated the ones I find informative and interesting. See translations below:

chapter 58 notes: The second book is all about the overconfident Xie Lian with delusions of grandeur and the tender little flower (mxtx means kid Hua Cheng) and their diaries of the downfall of Xianle. Word count is undecided, I'm never accurate at estimating word counts anyway. It's just like the xianxia I write doesn't fit into your regular xianxia, the royalty I write doesn't fit into your regular fictional depictions of royalty - just the outlandish made-up worlds and social customs in the author's imagination...

chapter 60 notes: If we put Qi Rong in a modern context, we could say that he has bipolar disorder.

chapter 72 notes: about the chapter title "To Meet You in the Mortal Realm; to Find Flowers Beneath the Rain" - eventually I feel that "To Meet You" is more romantic than "To Meet Someone". Just think about it, "meeting you" is one of the most romantic things in the world.

chapte 80 notes: Of course (HC) won't give (XL) a handjob or help him [...], but Huahua's sexual awakening starts with this incident... (XL is seriously obssessed with martial arts combat!)

chapter 88 notes: Xie Lian never gets tanned, I envy him... I finally reached this place - in a dilapidated temple, a god about to be forgotten and a believer who's still young - this is the first mental image I have about this story, which drove me to wrote the story. I'm the kind of person who'd make up a whole book just to get to write a certain passage...

chapter 119 notes: Actually Huahua is just being naughty and wants to joke around playing dead, who'd have thought...

chapter 123 notes: So Black Water made his appearance long ago, he's been hanging around before your eyes all along. Wind Master never knew the real Mingyi, it's always been the same person before him - and before you readers. (Black Water) officially recognized as Best Actor of this story! I've been holding it a secret for so long and so has he, now I can finally let it out.

chapter 141 notes: If you heat up Huahua in the kiln, he'll grow bigger~

chapter 175 notes: "Hua Cheng! Your diary! We've read it all!!!"

chapter 229 notes: Huahua low-key sucking up to the elderly to make a good impression

chapter 242 notes: Why do you like to spook yourselves? - why on earth would there be such plots as (XL) waiting for another 800 years - too long, impossible! Happy ending is around the corner!

SVSSS is my first work so it has some exceptions that I won't discuss here, but MDZS and TGCF both only have one main couple. I said this repeatedly in the author's notes when MDZS was being serialized and in other places. As for Mo Xuanyu, he is a little gay dude but he died at the beginning of the story so he doesn't count as a serious character...It's fine to have headcanons you like as long as you don't seperate the main couple. But for me personally, my taste leans towards having only one gay couple in the story, and I have no plans to write about another secondary couple. I'm stating this to avoid some unnecessary disputes.

XL is good at making pickled vegetables. Because pickled vegetables are needed with steamed bun and rice porridge, so XL became quite experienced after practicing for hundreds of years. Also you can just leave the pickled vegetable by itself most of the time and let it undergo chemical reaction. XL mostly fail because he get inventive.

XL and Mu Qing chose the same path of cultivation and are both Daoists. But Feng Xin never studied under a master at the Holy Royal Pavillion so he's not a Daoist and simply a plebeian martial god, so he doesn't need to observe the celibacy rules like XL and Mu Qing.

My passion for inventing new dishes (or rather weapons) cooked by Xie Lian is only slightly less than my passion for making Huahua change into new clothes

Huahua often turn into human forms, in which he has two eyes, so you guys can stop counting the number of his eyes.

In the setting of this story, if you want to be a god,you need to be a human hero first, which means you need to be the best of the best among humans. Only heaven officials who ascended are real heaven officials and belong in the Upper Court. How do you ascend? Firstly it depends on your personal ability, you have to be outstanding in some aspect (such as martial arts or literary talents) to enter the path of ascension. Secondly it depends on luck, if you're extremely lucky and a favourite of fate, and just picked up some rare secret guides (to ascension) or immortal pills by the roadside, that works too. Officials in the Middle Court are appointed, which means someone in the Heavenly Realm could promote you to that position. But Middle Court officials have the opportunity to become a bona fide Upper Court official too if they're capable enough.

Black Water indeed owes Hua Cheng a huge sum of money and is a very impoverished Calamity, seriously lowering the income standard of the Calamities (although there're only three of them). But his debt isn't completely due to eating too much. As for the money Black Water owes, it's an ancient debt - 40% is the cost of buying gifts for heaven officials of Upper Court and planting agents there (bribery!), 30% is maintenance fee for his territory and expenses on pet food, the rest 30% is food (for himself).

Talismans are probably the equivalent of the business cards (of heaven officials)... "Hello this is my consecrated talisman" = "hello this is my business card"

You can't get rid of ghostly essence (which XL is tainted with because he spends too much time with HC) simply by brushing your teeth with plain water...you need to use consecrated spell water (which is super bitter and weird).

The weapon forged by a heaven official is called fabao (literally "dharma treasure"); if it's a weapon forged by mortal Daoists and monks, it's called faqi (literally "dharma tool") - only after their ascension can their weapons be called fabao.

In my imagination, Xianle ia the kind of small ancient kingdom that's overall culturally Han, but has peculiar customs...although I feel like what I wrote on Xianle is mostly just peculiar hahahaha [facepalm] [beat myself up]

Not only are the forms, customs, cultures, and politics of countries in this story made-up, the kind of arcane stuff like occult sciences and philosophical values are all made-up. Although I did research but the records I consulted are too difficult to understand, so I just made things up on my own. Please bear with me If you're knowledgable in this sort of thing hahaha.

Puqi refers to water chestnut.

Look up "Blood-Soaked Fire Social" (xue she huo) if you're interested, it exists in real life and is very thrilling. What I wrote is different from the traditional festival, there're some made-up elements to make it more exciting

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

"What the fuck?"

Selina felt that those three words were enough to describe her whole relationship with Bruce Wayne. First as Batman, then as Bruce.

She had thought there might be something between them. Luckily it had passed, and a weird friendship had developed between them. Which might make some people turn up their noses since she was a thief and he was a vigilante but Bruce hasn't been so uptight lately and as long as Selina didn't kill and steal only who deserved it, they were fine.

Still, what the heck?

"Oh, Brucie is growing up," Harley said, all too pleased.

She was upright on the bed, while Pamela sat on the other side trimming her nails, seemingly ignoring the ongoing conversation.

Fuck house arrest for both of them. Why had she accepted? Oh yeah, they were friends.

Alsp, Bruce hoped that with her, Pamela and Harley could direct their impulses towards more correct forms of fighting for their principles, without involving innocent people.

So far it wasn't going to be great, but at least Harley had dumped her clown ex, for good this time, so it was a win.

(Probably more thanks to Pamela than her, but details.)

"Let me get this straight…you, mister, I don't look anyone in the face and if you talk to me for more than five minutes I'll start crying, you want….I can't believe I'm about to say it…learn how to seduce a man."

"Exactly," Bruce replied, as he petted one of Selina's cats.

"Just…why?"

"Who cares?" Harley broke in.

"He finally wants to step outside his boundaries! You have my respect!"

"It's not about going outside my boundaries. It's about planetary security."

"Really?" Selina said, half joking.

"Superman is powerful enough to destroy the planet."

This knocked Harley over, and Pamela finally stopped pretending not to pay attention.

Selina didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or slap him on the head, "Do you want to seduce Superman?!"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To discover his weaknesses and use them against him when his powers drive him insane."

"Wow, talking about trust issues," was Harley's comment.

"I like to be prepared," Bruce said.

"What did the boy scout do to make you fear that he might become world dictator at the slightest provocation?"

The man pouted adorable, and grumbled. Selina still wasn't an expert at translating each other's mumbling but she swore it was something like smiling too much, and I don't trust him, he's got something to hide.

Harley said, "Isn't Superman having an affair with that reporter? Lois Lane?"

"She is General Lane's daughter. A close relationship is not advisable."

"She seems to know him well. Why don't you ask her?"

"She wouldn't answer me, so as not to betray him. Everyone says he's a hero."

"And you obviously don't believe it," Selina suspected.

"No."

"What makes you think he might be interested in men?" Selina asked him.

Harley laughed, "Cupcake, no completely straight man would wear pants that tight."

"Same conclusion I came to."

Oh good. The fate of the world was entrusted to a pair of tight trousers.

"Besides, I've done some research on him, and I might be his type. At least physically. What I lack is the ability to seduce him to lower his defenses and believe me harmless."

"Ability you think we have?" Selina asked, not sure whether to feel offended or not.

"Gotham is very sexist," Bruce said.

"You did your best to manipulate men who thought they knew better."

Pamela smiled, "I'm liking this one."

“I told you Brucie's one of the good ones,” Harley genuinely smiled as she said it.

"And he's a weirdo, like us."

Selina wanted to moan. This is what happens when you make friends with strange vigilantes. She said, "So Superman has a thing for brunettes. Good to know. Have you thought about what to do in case your brilliant plan fails?"

"It won't fail," he said confidently.

"You don't know," she insisted, trying to give him some common sense. A futile undertaking, it was Bruce she was talking to.

"Superman is overconfident. He will fall into the net."

"Definitely not dressed like that honey," Harley commented, taking a long look to Bruce.

"What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

"You look like a creepy stalker," Selina said. Army jacket, hat, scarf to cover her face and mascara for her eyes. Bruce was a walking fashion insult. They're definitely going to have to fix his wardrobe, make him wear things that flatter his body and…

Oh god, she was totally on board with that plan, right?

Read more

#fanfiction #books #au #quote #superbat #superbattinson #battinson #the batman #gotham #gotham sirens #selina kyle #bruce wayne #harley quinn #pamela isley #the batman 2022 #autistic bruce wayne #batman fanfiction

[freesidexjunkie]

First Light

I have FINALLY got the first chapter of my Rolan fic ready!! This one is just fluff, so no big tags. Alcohol mention, bittersweet ending.

Word count: 9,129

AO3 Link here

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an archmage in good standing must be in want of an apprentice. That was what awaited Rolan in Baldur’s Gate, he reminded himself. He would happily sit through this night of drunken merriment if it meant they were finally free to continue on in the morning. Well, perhaps not happily, but tolerably. In his opinion, they had already wasted enough time while they cowered in the druid's grove; but Lia and Cal would not allow themselves to be swayed before properly thanking their so-called hero.

“Hells, Rolan. You look far too dour for someone who’s supposed to be celebrating,” his brother said, leaning against a felled log with a drink in hand.

“I’d rather not end up as a drunken fool by the end of the night. I’m sure you’ll already have that taken care of,” Rolan replied. “Besides, I’ll celebrate when there's a real reason to. All any of us accomplished was being the damsels in distress to a crew of adventurers.”

Lia raised her glass to point at him, swaying a bit as she did. “Glowering in the corner all night won't get us to the Gate any faster, Rol. You may as well join us ‘drunken fools.’”

“I bet he wouldn't be so grumpy if a certain person wasn’t still talking to Ikaron,” Cal said, nudging his sister in the side. He nodded his head in the direction of a half-elf woman a little ways off, sharing a drink with one of the refugee guards.

Rolan begrudgingly turned his head to look at Rhiannon, laughing and standing unnecessarily close to the tiefling. Not unnecessarily close, he chided himself; she was free to seek the company of whomever she wished. The rest of the camp certainly was.

“She likes the grumpy ones, doesn’t she?” Lia said, flashing an unendurably knowing grin at Rolan. He didn't deign to reply, only grunting in annoyance and rolling his eyes as he turned his back to the scene.

He certainly had no expectations of Rhiannon seeking his company out. He had assumed when they met that she was nothing but talk and pomp, and had treated her as such. As a result, she likely thought the exact same of him, he imagined; another overconfident wizard who's bark was worse than his pitiful bite. He had done little to suggest otherwise, stewing and grumbling behind the grove’s safe walls while threats abounded outside. A less generous person may have even called it whining – his sister certainly had. But while he sat about worrying and complaining, Rhiannon had acted, clearing the road of goblins and saving them all. Rolan liked to fancy himself more than capable of a little skirmish, but that, it seemed, was the difference between them; where he fancied, she did. 

“You gonna talk to her at any point, or just keep glaring at Ikaron all night?” Cal asked.

Lia snorted from beside Cal. “Please. He’s been staring at her for daaays,” she said, her drunken drawl dragging out the word. “He's just too chicken shit to admit it.”

Rolan’s face grew warm as he started to flush. He lifted his wine to his lips to hide it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered into the glass.

“Aww, see, Cal? He’s embarrassed,” she continued. “Admit it, Rol. She’s not such a… what did you call her, again?”

“Nothing,” he hissed.

But they remained undaunted. “A ‘meddlesome little goodie two shoes,’ I think,” Cal said.

“Oh, pardon me for being skeptical of a group of mercenary adventurers,” he replied sourly. He surely couldn't be faulted for his suspicions, especially after what Aradin and his crew had done. Most people, after all, were only in it for what they could get; she was merely the unexpected exception. “I am… grateful for their help, and I will be even more grateful in the morning when we can be on our way.”

“Riiight, that’s why you keep sneaking glances at her when you think no one’s looking,” Lia said with a hiccup. “Why don’t you just admit you think she’s -hic- cute?”

Rolan choked on his wine. He spluttered, turning his face to hide the creeping blush. In a voice that he hoped sounded unbothered, he answered, “she’s… tolerable, I suppose. I wouldn't go so far as to call her pretty, but–”

“Who said pretty? Besides you, that is,” Cal said.

“Idiots, both of you,” Rolan hissed again. “Don't you have anything better to do?”

“Mmm, I dunno, Lia,” Cal said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “He picks an awful lot of fights with her. Most people don’t pick so many fights with someone they have a crush on.”

The word flustered Rolan even more. Crush? Ridiculous.

“Rolan's not most people,” Lia replied. “For him, picking useless arguments with her daily is practically begging her to–”

“Enough!” Rolan shouted. Their teasing was relentless. He looked around to make sure they hadn’t attracted any attention as he coolly straightened his robes. “You are both completely out of line. I assure you, I have no opinion of the woman either way.”

Rather than silencing them, his outrage only added fuel to their snickering fire. “If you say so, Rol,” Cal said. “So, if she came over to talk to us, you'd continue to be totally unbothered, like you clearly are now?”

“Of course,” Rolan answered sharply as he sipped his wine.

“Oh?” A dangerous glint was catching in Lia’s eyes; he saw the wheels turning in her head just a moment too late to stop them. “Let’s test that then! Hey, Rhi–”

Rolan jumped to stop her as she cupped her hands around her mouth, but it was too late; the adventurer was already looking towards them. He let go of Lia’s arm and cursed under his breath as his siblings waved for her to join.

Rhiannon was, of course, all smiles as she excused herself from Ikaron and walked towards them. She was always all smiles; excessively so, it seemed to Rolan. Still, she looked somehow different than he remembered as she bounced over to Lia’s side. Her hunting leathers were abandoned in favor of light summer clothes; and her dark hair flowed in careless waves behind her, instead of tightly braided up and out of the way. All the blood and dirt she usually sported had been scrubbed away for the occasion, and for once, she smelled less like goblin guts and more like… honeysuckle? He was staring; he knew he was, gods dammit all, and he would never hear the end of it.

“Hey Lia. Hi Cal,” she said warmly. With just a glance at him, she added quickly, “Rolan.” She almost sounded nervous; had he given her that poor of an impression? He nodded silently to her in acknowledgment, silently making a note to absolutely throttle his siblings for this later.

Rolan suddenly wished he had prepared a good invisibility spell; with his siblings, he should have expected something like this. Surely everyone was too drunk or distracted to notice if he slipped away? He began to search his mind for any half believable reason to leave, but before he could open his mouth, his siblings flanked him.

“We just wanted to make sure you were enjoying your party. Rolan thought you might be a bit bored over there,” Cal said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. Rolan didn't respond, only clenched his jaw; he considered how bad the collateral damage might be if he were to cast a fireball at his brother right now. He almost thought he saw Rhiannon’s cheeks flush. Gods, was the mere idea of him that abhorrent to her?

“It’s not my party,” she replied, “but it’s nice of you to–”

“Oh, I beg to differ, fearless goblin slayer,” Lia interrupted, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Alfira’s been trying to write your ballad all evening.”

“What drives a hero like yourself, anyways?” Cal asked, shooting a sideways glance at Rolan. “What do you get out of meddling in our affairs?”

Rhiannon let out a small laugh, running her fingers through her hair as she pushed it back. “Wrong place at the right time? I don't know. It just… needed to be done, I suppose, and we were in a position to do it.”

Cal nodded, as if he was trying to look very serious. “Very admirable. Wouldn't you agree, Rolan?”

Rhiannon answered before Rolan could begin to formulate a reply. “Reckless is more like it, I think,” she said, “and I don't think I could claim it was entirely altruistic. We needed the First Druid and a clear road just as much as anyone else.”

“Regardless, I think we need to share a drink with our savior!” Lia said, wobbling a bit as she raised an open bottle in cheers.

Rhiannon took the bottle from her with one hand and reached to steady Lia with the other. “I think you've had plenty,” she said, gently righting them both. To his surprise, Rolan found himself enjoying the scene - only for a moment, of course. And only at Lia’s foolish behavior, obviously.

But a moment was long enough for Lia’s notice; he was caught, and whatever momentary delight he may have found died under her scheming eyes. “Noooo, you should definitely stay. Rolan’s just about to show off his spells.”

An unspoken agreement passed between his siblings in the next few moments. “Oh, of course,” Cal said, sounding a touch too eager. “Rolan’s been dying to show you his magic touch.”

Rolan glared pointedly at Cal as his brother and sister snickered. Rhiannon was looking at him expectantly from under Lia’s arm, still trying to keep his sister upright as she grinned smugly at him. He tried to regain his composure. “You don’t – I… am sure you have better things to do than…” He trailed off, gesturing a hand and a slight bow of his head in place of any words.

“What’s the matter, Rolan? Performance issues?” Cal whispered loudly.

“Too much wine, Rol? Or is something else distracting you?” Lia asked, far too transparent for Rolan’s liking as she shot a wink at Cal that he prayed to all the gods went unnoticed.

“Oh, for… hush, both of you,” he answered with a scowl, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He was no stranger to his siblings' taunts and teases, and could normally give as good as he got – in private. They weren't likely to drop the topic until he was utterly mortified or Rhiannon was entirely put off from him - or both. Rolan cast half a glance at her before looking quickly away, as if his eyes couldn’t bear the humiliation of seeing her reactions to all this. “You… can stay, of course. If you wish.”

“Oh, she’s staying,” Lia said, half-dragging the woman along with her to sit on a nearby rock. Rhiannon made no objection, only laughing as his sister pulled her along, assuring Lia she “wouldn’t dream of missing it.” Cal stood on the other side of her. All three were now staring expectantly at Rolan - though it was only her gaze he found himself faltering under. He stood still for a moment, trying desperately to remember any spell of the dozens he had taught himself while his sister continued to taunt him. “Well? Get on with it, wiz.”

“I… be patient,” he scolded with a nervous huff, trying to will himself to appear calm. “Have you no respect for showmanship?”

Cal snorted loudly, earning himself a playful swat from Rhiannon before all eyes turned to Rolan. Clearing his throat, Rolan began to move his hands across the sky, fingers deftly tracing intricate patterns into the air in front of him. With a final flourish, a shower of shimmering purple lights flickered to life in front of them. He looked on at his handiwork with a self pleased grin - until he caught sight of Rhiannon. She was leaning forward in her seat, positively enthralled as the shimmer of the spell sparkled against her gray eyes. He was almost transfixed himself, either by her or from the wine in his system as he watched the lights dance across her face. He was so enraptured by the sight that he had barely noticed her gaze drift past the spell onto him; she had caught him openly staring, he realized, as she laughed and looked away.

He cursed himself silently. By the way she fidgeted now in her seat, he had surely made her uncomfortable again. But Cal didn't seem to notice, letting out a low whistle as he leaned back. He looked at Lia over the top of Rhiannon’s head. “Remember when he could barely cast that?”

“They grow up so fast,” she replied, miming as if to wipe a tear from her eye.

Rolan scoffed back at them as he rolled his eyes. “It was you two who insisted on a magic show.”

Rhiannon simply laughed, a warm and friendly sound that made his insides flutter. “Well, I thought it was lovely,” she said. “Very impressive.”

“Lot of fuss for some twinkly lights,” Cal said, waving his hands around in an animated pantomime of spellcasting.

“Of course. I’d never expect a troglodyte such as yourself to appreciate the finer things,” Rolan quipped, trying to appear less amused than he was as his brother clutched at his chest.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Lia looking mischievously at Rhiannon. Whatever unspoken words passed between them made her blush rather furiously as she jumped to her feet. She cleared her throat and let out another nervous laugh. “Well! I’m sure I should get out of your hair. But thank you, really. For including me in your…”

“Oh,” Rolan replied, his face falling serious again. “Of course. I…” He wasn’t sure if he was feeling more relieved or disappointed, only that he found it hard to meet her gaze as she made to leave.

“Actually,” Lia said as she shot up from her seat, still more than a bit wobbly and clinging to Rhiannon’s shoulders, “me and Cal were just leaving.”

Both of her brothers looked at her with a quizzical brow. “We– oh!” Cal said as she kicked at his leg. “Right. Alfira said she needed us for… you know, that thing. The, uh…”

“Lute strings!” Lia finished. “And once she restrings her lute, we were going to help her finish her song, so we’ll be gone for a while. Say, Rhiannon, if you're not busy…?”

Rolan was painfully aware of the ideas forming in Lia’s mind as Rhiannon looked at her, head cocked to the side. “I… not exactly, no. But really, I wouldn't want to impose on–”

“Ah, nonsense!” Cal said as he clapped her lightly on the back, walking past her to grab Lia’s arm. “He doesn't mind. Do you, Rolan?” He didn't wait for a reply, other than the withering glare Rolan shot at him.

“Great, that’s settled then!” Lia said as she slid past them. “He’s not busy, either. And he wouldn't be so cruel as to turn up his nose at your company – would you, Rol?” She stood beside Rhiannon, hands on her shoulders as she flashed her best not-so-innocent eyes at her brother. He wanted to strangle them for this; for trying to embarrass him, and for dragging Rhiannon into their little scheme, to boot. 

Rhiannon gently shrugged her way out of Lia’s grasp and opened her mouth – no doubt to politely decline, he was sure. So much so that he found himself greatly surprised by her answer. “I… wouldn’t mind the company,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

He stared at her for a second, wondering if he perhaps had misheard her. Disbelief, then surprise, and something like relief crossed his face in a matter of moments. Before he could respond, Lia spoke. “Great! I’m sure the two of you will have fun,” she said, shooting a covert wink at her brother as she passed.

“Yeah, let him show off for someone else for a change,” Cal added with a grin.

Rolan started, watching them leave with a defeated grimace. “I swear, the two of you are–”

“Play nice, Rolan!” Lia called over her shoulder as the two of them disappeared. Rolan shook his head as he let out a sound somewhere between a nervous sigh and a chuckle. He turned back to Rhiannon, a bit unsure of what to do next; she was still standing in front of him, still clutching the bottle of wine to her chest as she shuffled back and forth on her feet. Was she waiting for him to speak? Did he know what to say, anything to say to her? 

“Wine?” She asked, stiffly sticking her arm out to offer him the bottle.

“Gods, please,” he replied, gratefully taking it and pulling a long swig. He winced against the bite of the cheap drink, no doubt salvaged from some ransacked village, and wiped the remnants from his lips with the back of his hand. “Sorry. About them. They’re…” He shook his head again with a huff. “You don’t have to… if you have somewhere else you'd rather be, I wouldn't… I would hate to hold you up here, I mean.”

“No,” she answered quickly, before adding, “but I wouldn't want to be a bother if–”

“You’re not,” Rolan answered, offering the bottle back with a small smile as his own nerves lessened. “I'm more worried about being poor company, I suppose.”

“You’re not,” she answered back softly with her own grin. “A bit grumpy sometimes, though. Insufferably cocky, according to some.”

“I am not–” He looked up to defend himself, but the anger in his chest melted to surprised amusement when he saw her smirk: was she… teasing him? “You’re worse than Cal and Lia, you know. If I had known you stuck around just to mock me…”

She took a sip from their now shared bottle with a playful smile. “Oh, I wouldn't dream of mocking you, Rolan. Besides, cocky isn't exactly a bad look for you.” At that, Rhiannon  started, as if her own words had snuck up on her. “Or… for wizards in general, I mean. After all your studying and everything, I’m sure you've earned it.”

“Don't let Lia hear you say that,” he replied. She laughed again, swaying ever so slightly towards him as she did; his heart suddenly felt like it was doing flips in his chest. This might have been the longest conversation he could remember having with her, now that he thought about it; the longest without some snide remark slipping from his lips, at least. He cringed to himself again at what an utter ass he had been to her; but looking down at her now, laughing and smiling, standing so close to him that he could smell her perfume, flowers and wine and her godsdamned laugh muddling his thoughts…

“It's impressive,” she said, bringing him back to reality as she leaned against the rock again. “Did you really teach yourself everything?”

“Of course,” he answered. “No one in Elturel had the time or the inclination to teach an orphaned tiefling child how to be more dangerous, but I knew I had it within me to be great. I became my own teacher.”

“How did you do it?” Rhiannon asked. “I mean, it couldn't have just been books, right?”

Rolan stepped forward to reach for the bottle and took a quick swig before answering. “Books, yes, and practice. I… I used to sneak out to watch the Hellriders when they were fighting. We weren't supposed to, and our mother would've been furious if she caught me, but… I watched the mages casting, and tried to copy what they were doing until it worked.”

“Huh.” She was staring at him critically - or perhaps inquisitively. “I never had the chance to study magic. Always wanted to try, but being on the road, village after village… traveling tutors weren't exactly in the budget. That, and I'm afraid I never had your discipline when it came to studying.”

“Oh?” He replied. “I would have thought you’d meet plenty of mages on the road. They couldn't teach you?”

Rhiannon took another sip of wine with a rueful smile. “Yeah, well… truthfully, my dad wasn't thrilled with the idea of it. He taught me a few practical things, of course, like he used - healing spells and some stuff with my bow. But there was always a reason not to take any lessons. We didn't have time to stop, or money was too tight. Spellbooks were too heavy to lug all over the Sword Coast. But really, I think he was just scared of me running off like–” She stopped short, as if she had surprised her own self with her story. “I… sorry, must be the wine. I’m sure I didn't stay to talk your ear off with my life story.”

He recognized the look on her face as she eyed the ground; the same look he saw on his siblings and the other refugees when they were trying not to dwell on Elturel. It was the look they usually made right before leaving to sulk in their own misfortunes. But he wasn’t ready for her to leave; truthfully, he was desperate for her to stay, to keep talking and laughing and just be near him. He searched his mind for anything to salvage the conversation before it was too late.

“Why did you stick around, then? If not to pick fun at me.”

She started a bit, pushing a strand of hair back from her face as she looked from the ground to him, a mischievous twinkle lighting in her eyes.

“I'm only here to watch some magic, of course,” she answered with a coy smile.

He smirked back, his own eyes lighting up at her smile. “Of course,” he said, though not without noticing the way that she blushed. Surely just the wine, he told himself, but... “By all means then. What kind of magic were you hoping to see?”

“I… don't know?” She answered, perking up against the rocky seat. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert on magic. What can you do?”

Rolan answered with a very self-assured snort. “Plenty. Watch.” He moved to stand beside her as she watched with one eyebrow raised at him. With a little looking, he found his target: Cal, trying his luck with the dark-haired cleric on the other side of the camp. He gave Rhiannon a quick sideways glance before casting; in moments, a short gust of wind knocked his brother off his feet, sending his drink careening towards the woman’s clothes.

Rhiannon gasped beside him before breaking out in laughter. “You’re horrible!” She said between laughs, trying to sound serious as she swatted his arm. “I never knew magic could be so petty.”

“When the need arises,” he said, looking over at her. Her hand was still on his arm, resting just at his elbow as she watched the scene unfold with guilty amusement. “Don’t feel too badly for him. He’s not as innocent as he seems.”

“Is that so?” She asked, laughing. “Well, gods forbid I ever end up on your bad side. If that’s what you do to your own brother, I can’t imagine I’d have any hope.” She swayed a bit as she laughed, bumping into his arm and sending a shiver through him.

“I wouldn't worry about that,” he said, surprising himself with how gentle his own voice sounded. 

He paused; Rhiannon had suddenly gone silent. Had that been the wrong thing to say? The wrong way to say it? He looked down at her, frozen at his side now, eyes locked onto his with a more serious expression. He’d accidentally overstepped, misread the tone of their conversation, and had now put her in an awkward position. It was Rhiannon who broke the stillness, before he could come up with an appropriate apology. She looked down at her hand in mild alarm, as if she was surprised to see it still laying on his arm, and stiffly patted the spot as she withdrew.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, taking a nervous step back. “And I thought you didn't like me.”

He let out a tentative sigh of relief as he cast his eyes on the ground. “Yes, well… I do give off that impression, don't I?”

“Oh no, I didn't mean– I just… hells,” she said. “I didn't exactly make a great impression on you, either, I’m sure. With the whole… sticking my nose into your family’s business, and then delaying your apprenticeship, and… I wouldn't have blamed you for holding it against me. I didn't blame you, in fact.”

Rolan looked at her, a bit… confused, honestly. She thought that she was to blame for his horrendous behavior? His rude remarks, constantly belittling her - she thought she had deserved that? After everything she had done to help the refugees, the grove, all of them, he’d still been unable to reign in his terse manner; and for some reason, Rhiannon had not only not held it against him, but believed it was what she was due.

Even if she saw no problem with his behavior, he felt that he couldn't let it stand. “Rhiannon, I believe I owe you an apology. Many apologies, probably, for my… ‘disagreeable behavior’ would be too polite to describe how I’ve treated you. You did nothing to deserve that, and you continued to help us regardless. I shouldn't have–”

Rhiannon cut him off with a wave of her hands. “You don't owe me anything, Rolan,” she said with that disarming smile. “If anything, we’re even for getting on each other’s nerves.”

He felt a lightness blossoming in his chest at her words, as if he was just now realizing how much this guilt had been weighing on him. He disagreed, of course. Her teasing and badgering were not at all “even” with his own harsh words, but he wasn't going to pick a fight with her over how many fights he had already picked with her; not now, at least. They fell into silence instead; he was unsure how to continue, but reluctant to let her go just yet. As she stood in front of him, kicking at the dirt and awkwardly shuffling the wine bottle in her hands, an idea came to him. He reached for the bottle and took a swig for courage. “Let me make it up to you, then.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, twinkling with curiosity as she crinkled her nose. “How?”

He didn’t answer her question, only giving her a little smile as he nodded to an empty patch of shore a few yards away. “I think we’ll need more space for this.” Rolan held out a hand to gesture her forwards,  a silent “after you” before following her to the water’s edge.

 “Alright,” she answered as she eyed him with a grin, “but if you conjure up something to push me into the water like you did to Cal…”

He barked out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t dare. Just a peace offering,” he said, moving behind her while she watched him quizzically. Looking over her shoulder, he said, “here; hold up your hands… no, more like this…” Gingerly, he set his hands on her arms and guided them into the right position. He was painfully aware now of their proximity, of the very short distance between them. close enough to feel the coolness of her skin compared to his. A single movement could have brought them together, any sway or stumble or bump. That thought alone terrified him, the worry of another misstep to test her good graces as he poured all his focus into acting normal. He tried to keep his mind clear, to focus instead on the Weave around them. Hovering his hands just over her forearms, he began to to channel a small amount of magic through to her.

“Alright,” he said, steadying his voice, “try to focus on the Weave. Can you feel it?”

“I… I'm not sure,” she answered quietly, crinkling her face. Could she tell how nervous he was? Was it possible for her to pick up on his thoughts through the magic he was lending her? “I feel… something, I think.”

“Good. Grab onto that,” he said, chasing his paranoid ramblings away. “Now, you need to just copy my hands.” He demonstrated the casting gesture, a simple pattern traced with the fingers followed by a wave.

“Like this?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at him for confirmation. Her fingertips crackled lightly as she finished the gesture.

“Exactly,” he said. “Now, just grab on to that fragment of the Weave you felt earlier. Channel it outwards while you do that again, and…” With a small wave of both hands and a flourish outwards, shimmering silver stars burst forth from Rhiannon’s hands and hung in the air before them.

She stood there for a moment, mesmerized by the display as Rolan watched the stars twinkle in her eyes. “You did that, right?” She asked, still looking forward.

“No,” he answered, his eyes still locked on her. “I provided a channel for the Weave, but the spell is all yours.”

Watching her eyes light up in wonder at her own spell work, Rolan was struck with another idea. Casting a slight modification of the gesture, the stars in front of them slowly transformed into glittering silver sprites, couples dressed in ball gowns and finery as they waltzed across the air in front of them.

Rhiannon gasped as the dancers took shape. “That’s amazing,” she said with an almost breath less laugh. “And you do this all the time?”

“The magic? Of course,” he replied. “I don't often… I don't teach it to others, normally, but… I…”

The words melted away from his mind as she turned to look at him, shoulder just barely leaning into his chest as she smiled coquettishly over it. “Good,” she said, “I was worried this was the trick you showed all the women you were trying to impress.”

He laughed, letting his arms fall to his side. His heartbeat was picking up rapidly. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said, her teasing smile shining brighter than anything he could conjure as she turned and laid a hand on his chest. Would she be able to feel his heart, he wondered, beating wildly against his ribs with her every word? She leaned against him a bit more. “I was hoping I might be a special case.”

Time froze on that moment, balancing on the precipice between the playful teasing of a friend, or something more. He hadn’t even allowed himself to consider her a friend before; he didn't think he had earned the right. Rolan’s thoughts seemed to stop, completely consumed by Rhiannon, by everything about her. The way her laughs against him had seemed to reverberate through every inch of his being; the coolness of her hand on his chest; the electrifying thrill of her touch, through only a thin layer of fabric. He was lost in her eyes, her smile, her lips; gods, her perfect lips. With his breath still catching in his throat, he gently raised his hand, fingertips lightly brushing a few stray wisps of hair off of her cheek.

“You are,” he whispered before closing the space between them, placing his lips on her own. He went slowly at first; a gentle, tender, sweet kiss, with his arm around her waist oh so lightly, giving her ample leave to pull away if he had misjudged. But she didn't pull away; her own hands slid up his chest to cup his face as she pulled him in closer. Rolan felt like his world was exploding, infinitely, more and more with every movement of her lips against his. He felt her fingers weave gently through his hair as she ran her tongue across his lips with a small hum against them in the form of a question. He gave in quite willingly, their tongues aching to find each other while he wrapped his arm tightly around her middle, pulling her closer until she was left clinging to him for balance. But nothing was enough, it felt like; he needed more of her, a feeling she seemed to share. One of her hands made its way toward the belt of his robes, snaking just underneath the fabric to feel his skin, her delicate fingers sending a shiver up his spine as he lost himself in her. It was wonderful; it was perfect; it was–

“Rolan! Are you doing fireworks again?” 

It was very rudely interrupted. They shot apart from each other at the sound of the tiefling child’s voice, followed by the patter of small feet running towards the shoreline. “Can you do– hey!”

“Not for you, squirt,” Cal’s voice followed. Rolan saw him grab the little boy by the shoulder and turn him back around. “Run off and play somewhere else.”

He thought he saw a sly smirk on his brother’s face as he shepherded the boy away; Cal and Lia were surely going to be unbearable when he saw them next. He stood stock still, dumbfounded as he tried to make sense of the last few moments. It wasn't until he felt Rhiannon start to shake with poorly stifled laughter that he realized his arms were still wrapped around her. His heart sank to his stomach, fear that he had done something wrong after all flooding in. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, trying to master her own laughter. “It’s just…” She looked up from his chest, standing up on her toes to reach his lips as she leaned in. “Remind me to thank your wingmen later.”

***

The sun was well above the horizon before Rhiannon was able to rouse herself from her tent. So much for an early start, she thought as she dragged herself to the fire and blearily poured some coffee. As exhausted as she felt, she didn't regret a thing; she had spent half the night laying on the beach with Rolan, teasing the tiefling wizard between lazy kisses, and the other half lying awake thinking about him. Her heart fluttered as she thought over it again, memories of the night before playing through her head on repeat. 

But as much as she had enjoyed it, his timing couldn't have been worse; the tiefling party was leaving for Baldur’s Gate this morning, and her own group was bound for Moonrise Towers. How bittersweet that their first moment’s together were set to be their last. But still, she thought that she would much prefer to carry the memory of sweet kisses that came too late than the regret of them never having come at all.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” came a gruff voice from the edge of their camp.

Rhiannon felt a grin tug at the corners of her lips as she saw Rolan walking towards her very seriously. She smirked at him over the rim of her mug. “Good morning to you, too,” she said, stepping closer until she was only inches from him. He stopped short, a blush creeping across his cheeks adorably as he faltered, the cracks in his determined veneer coming apart so easily at the slightest provocation.

“I…” He stopped, letting out a chuckle as a small smile donned his lips. “Good morning. I thought I might’ve missed you.”

She shook her head, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I just overslept. For some reason, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she teased. “I was actually worried you might’ve already left.”

“Of course not.” The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, might have sounded short or even rude to her yesterday; but the thought that he hadn't wanted to leave without seeing her, as if the idea of it was ridiculous to even consider, spawned butterflies in her stomach.

“I– well, Cal and Lia and myself, we– I thought that– ugh,” He threw his head back with a disgruntled huff.

Rhiannon cocked her head at him, confused, before realization washed over her like ice. Was he having second thoughts? Did he regret their night together, showing her stars and magic tricks and tenderness? Was he trying to find the words to let her down easy, to avoid awkward expectations if they met again in the city? “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just– I am… not good at… this,” he said, gesturing broadly at her. “At…”

The lightness that had been in her chest turned to lead. She was making too much out of one impulsive evening; of course she was, and he could tell. Hells, everyone at the party had been looking for someone to spend it with. Why had she assumed it was more than that? 

“Oh,” she said, taking a step away to hide her reddening face. “I… it’s fine. You don’t have to explain, Rolan. I understand if you don't–”

“No!” He said quickly, reaching out for her arm. “No, that’s not… Gods, I’m already making a mess of this.” He paused, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I… we thought… if we’re all headed to the city anyways, and there’s strength in numbers, that you might… you all could…”

“Come with you?” She asked hopefully, the words out of her mouth before she realized.

“I… yes,” he answered. “Or that, if the rest of your group doesn't want to, that at least… you might stay with us.”

He… was asking to stick together? Rhiannon’s heart swelled to an ache at the thought; at the idea of Rolan wanting her near, and the knowledge that she couldn't accept. 

“Oh, Rolan, I… it’s not that I don't want to, believe me. I would in a heartbeat if I could, but… we really can't split up. Even if we wanted to. And we have to go to Moonrise Towers, and…” She realized she’d been avoiding his eyes. And the crestfallen look on his face as she looked up at him, the way he was already retreating back from the moment - it stung in her chest. She grabbed his hand earnestly as she continued, stepping in closer to him. “Rolan, please believe me when I say I wish I could. And I… just to know that you - or, all of you, that you want me around, is…”

“Why can't you, then?” Rolan asked insistently. “What’s so important about some ruined old towers? If you’re after adventures and gold, there’s plenty of other places that aren't so–”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted. She could feel her chest tightening as she spoke. “It’s complicated. I can't– it’s not easy to explain, but we can’t just… go our own ways.”

“Why not?” He demanded. Rhiannon looked away again as her eyes began to water. Not now. Don’t mess this up now. “Rhiannon?”

Images of the night before flashed in front of her as she looked at him. Shining little couples dancing across the sky, awkward laughs and sweet kisses, gentle arms around her. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to ebb the flow of tears threatening to break loose. “I… I'm worried if I tell you everything, you’ll…” She took a deep and nervous breath. “You won't look at me the same way. You’ll see… something else entirely. I just don’t want to… to ruin something… nice.”

Rolan furrowed his brow and tilted his head at her, confused and concerned eyes darting over her face. But he didn't pull away. “Tell me anyways.”

A choked laugh bubbled its way up her throat. Of course he couldn't just make this easy; he was going to pull the truth out of her, and afterwards, she knew that all he’d be able to see in her was a monster waiting to happen.

So be it, then. “Alright,” she sighed, nervously fidgeting with his fingers in her hand. She looked at the sky, then the trees, and the ground; anywhere but his face. She didn't have the strength to see the look in his eyes when heard what she was about to say. “When that ship crashed… we were all on it. We’re all abductees who somehow managed to survive the crash.”

She watched the realization form in his head. “But that was a nautiloid. It was a mindflayer ship.”

Rhiannon bit her lip nervously. “Yeah.”

“But if you were abducted, they would have… it's been weeks, that’s not possible. How could you still be…?”

Tentacle free? Blissfully in control of their own minds? “Alive?” She settled on. “I don't know. We think it has something to do with that little box Shadowheart carries, so as long as we stay together, we’re fine. But that’s why we needed Halsin. That’s why we have to go to Moonrise; he says the… he says it comes from there.” 

She couldn't bring herself to say the word: tadpoles. The tadpoles that were slithering through their skulls, threatening to turn them all into soulless abominations. This would certainly be the end of any goodwill, let alone any feelings Rolan or his siblings might have had towards them. Towards her in particular. “I know it must feel like a betrayal, but I swear, Nettie made sure we wouldn't pose any danger to you all. We never showed any symptoms, and she gave us a bottle of wyvern poison to take if we–”

“Wyvern poison?” Rolan scoffed, a flash of anger in his voice. “She wanted you to poison yourself?”

“To keep us from hurting any of you. In case we couldn't find Halsin, or… who knows what else. I promise, Rolan, we never wanted to put any of you in danger. I never meant to–”

“We’ll come with you, then,” he interrupted.

Rhiannon stopped, tears halting as she cocked her head at him. “What?”

“If you’re going into the shadow curse, you’ll need magic to counteract it. Not to disparage Gale’s talents, but I doubt he has the experience that I do in these kinds of magic. And if you’re delving into ancient ruins, you'll need even more help. Lia is good with a bow, and Cal can handle a sword well enough,” he said. He didn't look angry, or upset, or utterly disgusted by her admission; he looked… determined.

Rhiannon felt confused; he didn't understand, surely. “No, you– it’ll be dangerous.”

“We can handle ourselves, I assure you.”

“That’s not what I mean. I… we could… change at any time. It wouldn't be fair to put all of you at risk like that.”

“You won't,” Rolan said decisively. “Not as long as you have that box, whatever it is. That’s what you said.”

“Well, as far as we know, but…” She continued to stare into his face, bewildered and bemused; and a little in awe, to be honest. “What about your apprenticeship? Weren't you in a hurry?”

“It… will still be there,” Rolan answered; he tried to sound cool and unbothered, but the nervous flickering of his tail betrayed him. “I can send word ahead with the other refugees. Besides, studying mindflayer repelling boxes and shadow-cursed lands must count as some kind of experience. Lorroakan will be all the more impressed, I’m sure.”

His offer was incredibly tempting, to be sure; but the weight of it all still loomed over her. “You don't have to do this, you know. No one could blame you for sticking to the safe route, especially when it’s not your fight,” she said. “I can't ask you to do this.”

“You’re not,” he replied, very matter-of-factly before melting into a faint smirk. “Lia is, actually. I think she’s grown rather fond of you.”

Rhiannon let out a small snort that erupted into a burst of giggles. It felt like too much to expect; she almost wondered if was still dreaming.

“Is that so?” She asked, tentatively laying her free hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound wildly as she hovered inches from his lips. “You’re saying Lia would miss me, then?”

She could hear the sharp breath he drew in getting caught in his throat as he wrapped an arm around her waist; could feel the shaky exhale against her lips as he stared deeply into her eyes. His answer was barely a whisper: “very much.”

She grinned back at him, biting her lower lip with a contemplative hum. Her heart felt like it was trying to climb its way out of her throat, the elation and anticipation within her too much to fit in such a small space. She leaned in slowly, heart thumping, her eyes never breaking from his. “In that case…”

“There you are. Are you quite ready to– …oh.” Rolan started under her hand, blush creeping up his cheeks before burning into annoyance at the elf’s salacious tone and very unwelcome intrusion.

Rhiannon glared at him pointedly. “Can I help you, Astarion?”

“Apologies, I didn't realize you were busy,” he replied, cutting suggestive eyes at the two of them. “Some of us were simply wondering if you’d be ready to depart any time soon. You know, worms to be cured, cults to be dealt with…”

“...oh,” she replied, deflating as she sank back down to her feet. It was late into the morning, to be sure, but she had hoped… “Are they already ready?”

“Very nearly,” Astarion answered. “Halsin is talking to his druids; probably telling them when to water his trees in his absence, or whatever it is druids do.”

Across the camp, Halsin’s hulking form jutted out above the rest, in jovial conversation with his people. He was the one with the knowledge of the shadow curse; they would have to clear this with him if Rolan was to join their party. Rhiannon grabbed Rolan’s hand, uttering a quick “thank you” to Astarion as they took off in that direction.

“Halsin?” Rhiannon called as they grew near. “Do you have a moment?”

Halsin looked up from his discussion with a kind smile. “Of course, my friend. Speak your mind.”

“Right. Well, I– or rather, Rolan was saying– if it would be possible, that is, we…” Her stuttering, fumbling words came to a halt as they all tried to come crashing out of her mouth at once. She looked sideways to Rolan and nodded towards Halsin, a silent plea of a little help, please? 

“My family and I are coming with you,” he said, stepping forward insistently as if he meant to leave no room for argument.

Halsin's face fell; he noticed the clasped hands between them. “I… see. I'm afraid we aren't bound for the city for quite some time, unfortunately.”

“I know,” Rolan replied. “We’re coming all the same.”

“The nature of our business at Moonrise is–”

“He already knows about the tadpoles,” Rhiannon interrupted, bouncing nervously at Rolan’s side. “They want to help, and I know it won't be easy to get to Moonrise, but that’s exactly why we could use their help. Right?”

But it was clear to her by the way Halsin looked at them that they weren’t going to like his answer. “I understand why you wish to come along, and I admire your bravery, but–”

“We’re more than capable of holding our own,” Rolan interrupted, the telltale signs of his temper flaring up. “So if you’re going to try and convince me that we can’t handle it, you can save your breath. We’ve survived more since the Descent than your peaceful little grove has seen in–”

Rhiannon tugged on his hand, a silent signal to please stop blowing up at the person they were asking a favor from. He grunted in response, clearly annoyed, but let any further words remain unspoken. 

Thankfully, Halsin remained calm in his address. “I don't doubt your abilities, or your achievements. But the shadow curse, and this cult, present challenges that cannot be felled with force. If they are using these tadpoles as a means of control, as I suspect they are, I hesitate to allow any more people than is necessary to risk their lives.”

“We haven't been infected. They can’t control us,” Rolan replied huffily.

“Exactly,” Halsin continued. “They will recognize you as outsiders, at which point they will try to infect you with a tadpole we may not be able to counteract, or…”

“Or worse,” Rhiannon finished under her breath, remembering the scenes of murder and desecration they had witnessed at the goblin camp. “You’re right.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Rolan answered, almost snarling on the words as he continued to challenge the druid.

Rhiannon pulled his sleeve again. “Rolan…”

“What?” He replied as he turned on her, the words coming out almost harsh enough to sting.

“Can I speak to you privately?” She asked. Rolan bristled, but bitterly acquiesced, his tail kicking up dirt as it swished angrily behind him.

“Your conviction is admirable, as is your dedication to each other,” Halsin said before letting them go. “I take no joy in splitting a young couple apart, but… Oak Father willing, we’ll all meet again in the city.”

Rolan snorted derisively, like he had another biting remark ready as Rhiannon pulled him away, muttering a small thanks to Halsin.

“He means well, Rolan,” she said once they were by themselves again.

He shook his hand loose from hers. “Don’t try to patronize me. Just because the druid doesn't think we can handle it–”

“I’m not,” she replied, laying a hand on his arm. “I know you can. If any of you could handle the shadow curse, I’m sure it would be you.”

Rolan scoffed harshly. “Then why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?”

Rhiannon struggled to look him in the eye, fiddling with his sleeve as she stepped closer.  “Halsin’s… right about the cult, I think. Especially about the… listen, getting yourselves infected would be bad enough, but they could do much worse. I saw them do worse, Rolan.” 

“So everyone keeps saying, but I think we’ll manage against a few bloody cult nutters who fall to any group of adventurers,” Rolan insisted, “not that I mean any offense, but–”

“No, Rolan, you don't understand. The things they were doing in that camp, the things they spoke about, you can't–” Panic rose in her voice as she remembered the gruesome scenes burned into her mind; torture racks and cages, men thrown to wild beasts out of boredom, bodies made unrecognizable as they roasted on spits, or butchered like cattle to become worg feed. And everywhere they turned, the repeated promise of more at Moonrise. 

She forced a deep breath. “You have to stay with the other refugees,” she said, the words spilling out of her as her breath returned. “Because I can't watch them do that to you, any of you. Certainly not because of me.”

“Rhiannon–”

“Please.” She put her hands on either side of his chest as she stepped into his arms, gripping at the fabric of his robe. “I know you don't need to be coddled and talked down to. I’m not trying to, but I… I can’t be the reason you all take this risk. Not when you don't have to.”

She stood there for what felt like far too long, her heart drumming erratically as she waited for him to respond. Finally, he answered with a defeated sigh. “I… alright. Fine.”

She let out a heavy sigh of relief, melting into his chest. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “And I'm sorry, Rolan. I am. I just–”

“Don’t be,” he interrupted. He sounded gruff, almost annoyed at her; but the gentle, nervous way he laid his hands on her hips suggested otherwise. 

She let out another sigh, more comfortable this time than anxious. “It’ll work out better like this anyway, won’t it? The other tieflings need your help more than we will. That’s the reason you stayed behind to begin with, isn't it?”

Rolan ran his thumb over her side, looking down at her with an almost sad smile. “Of course.”

“Right,” she said. “And this way, you won't be late for your apprenticeship. And I can send you some very detailed letters about the shadow curse to impress Lorroakan with. Maybe even some samples of whatever weird shadow magic you were hoping to study.”

“Oh?” He asked, amused. “And where will you find a courier in the shadow cursed lands?”

“You mean there isn't some magical letter service you can whip up?” She replied. “How do you wizards get anything done?”

He chuckled at her under his breath. Her eyes were still streaked with red, and a single tear trailed its way down her cheek. As he reached to brush it away, she caught his hand in her own and pulled him in for a kiss. It only took a moment for him to register; he wrapped his free arm around her waist as he kissed her back, fiercely, full of purpose and promise as she wove her fingers through the hair at the top of his neck. He splayed his fingers across the small of her back as she pressed herself further into his chest, rolling every inch of herself against him in ways that would surely haunt his dreams in the months to come. As suddenly as she had started the kiss, she pulled away, still holding his head to hers, leaving him breathless and hopelessly dazed as he clung to her form.

“Just wanted to give you something to look forward to,” she murmured. She pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away from him entirely, leaving only the tips of their fingers linked between outstretched arms. “Where will you be when I get to Baldur’s Gate?”

Rolan blinked as he recollected himself. “I… Ramazith’s Tower,” he answered by rote as his mind replayed what had just passed between them.

“Alright. It’s a date.” Rhiannon let her fingers drop from his on the last word as she backed away, eyes locked on him and a smirk on her lips. She kept up the coy facade until she turned away, letting it slip with a shaky breath once she was certain he wouldn't hear. Don’t let him see you making a fuss over it, she chided herself. No long, teary goodbyes to taint what should be a happy memory. It should be some sweet little thought to get her through the coming weeks; not something lost, but something had. But perhaps it could be something more, if she could make it to the city in one piece. The promise of something between them to keep her moving forward.

Something to look forward to.

#bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan x tav #rolan #rolan bg3 #rhiannon oc #fanfic #tw alchohol mention #tw alcohol #fluff

[shipsgaysfordays]

okay, let's talk about the 1889 meeting between Dream and Hob

(i'm currently rewatching the episode and just i need to talk about it)

Hob has spent centuries barely knowing anything about the Stranger, he'll ask questions at every single meeting to never get any clear answer as to who the Stranger is. all he has are assumptions, "you know everyone, don't you?" because Dream didn't answer him. and you can see very clearly that Hob was annoyed at Dream deflecting yet again this time, that instead he of talking about himself he talked of Lady Joanna. but, at least he learned something about the Stranger.

for centuries their conversations have really only been about Hob despite his many attempts to learn about Dream.

Hob says "people are almost always better than you think they are. not me, though. still the same as ever." simply being a bit self deprecating, he feels bad for his past actions and he can't see himself as a good man anymore.

Dream says that Hob's changed, because he's seen over the centuries that Hob has changed, he's complimenting Hob by saying that he's changed.

and yet...

the minute Hob brings the conversation around to Dream, at first possibly attempting to return the compliment in saying that the Stranger has also changed. it's an assumption, because all Hob really has to go off of with the stranger is assumptions. "i think it's you that's changed". he doesn't know, how could he? Dream barely lets himself be known by Hob.

and despite this being said by Hob with a smile, despite this being a reflection of a compliment from Dream, Dream's face falls. "how so?" it's easier to see change when you're not the one changing, when you're on the outside.

Hob continues forward with his assumptions, a bit more confidently, possibly overconfident, "i think i know why we still meet here, century after century. it's not because you want to see whether or not i'm ready to seek death. i don't think i'll ever seek death. by now, you know that about me." he's slightly projecting, they've been at this for centuries so Dream must know by now that he won't seek death, right? he knows Hob better than any living person at that time, he must know this about Hob. "so, i think you're here for something else."

this corporeal form of a man has literal tears in his eyes, "what might that be?" (this is possibly the moment when Hob should have realized it was a bad idea to push it)

"friendship." i believe Hob is projecting, that he's hitting the target right on the mark, but he's projecting. maybe i've read too much fanfic or thought about this too much, but Hob is an immortal being who has to almost constantly lie about who he is to everyone, except Dream. except the man who already knows everyone, who sees the best in Hob despite what Hob has done, who drives Hob to be a better man. in 1789 it is very clear that this relationship is of great importance to Hob, the way they act, it's obvious that Hob cares and they are friends in his mind.

and there's been the idea that i've read (because i read a bit too much dreamling fanfic) that, in 1689, Hob says "i've got so much to live for" at least partially because of Dream. now it's probably a better message if he said it on his own account and not because of specifically who he was speaking to. but i've seen the idea that he said it in order to make Dream happy (because Dream is almost never happy, and the last century he supremely failed to impress Dream), i've seen the idea that part of that "so much" is Dream and their friendship. i think 1689 confirms to him that Hob doesn't need to be impressive for Dream to want his company, that Hob doesn't need to be constantly happy, he just needs a will to live (idk how he has it, personally that sounds really difficult). 1789 confirms that Dream can guide Hob into being a better person, that Dream cares for his well-being, and that the Stranger might just finally tell Hob something about himself (Dream was just about to actually give an answer--a shocking turn of events--when Lady Joanna came in and screwed it all up).

anyways, back to 1889, Hob shoots his shot and offers friendship to the only being who could possibly understand him....and then he takes it a step too far, flies too close to the sun, and says, "i think you're lonely". and honestly, i don't see Hob's reason for saying this. not in a "why the hell would you say that" type of way, but like, in my mind, he doesn't have much reason to assume the Stranger is lonely. at this point in time he actively has reason to assume otherwise. Dream mentioned how he knows all of this information about Lou, about how he worked with Lady Joanna again, Hob even gives thought to the idea that the Stranger "knows everyone". so why would Hob think he's lonely? he's projecting. no one can understand Hob's life and a similar situation is probably going on with his stranger. no one can understand except them two. immortality is isolating.

and what does Dream do with this offer of friendship from a person who he does obviously care for, he focuses on what he perceives as an insult. "you dare (call me lonely and say i need your friendship)".

Hob tries to go back on what he's said, on the boundary he's overstepped, "no, look, i'm not saying..."

but he's angered an Endless, he doesn't know it, but he has. he's basically called a huge ego'd God lonely. there's no stopping Dream from being a drama queen at the idea that HE could be in NEED of HOB'S COMPANIONSHIP.

and oh Hob, oh Hob, oh Hob. you just have to be an overconfident cocky bastard, you just have to dare.

and because Dream is incapable of being vulnerable and allowing himself to have nice things such as friendships, he's gotta prove Hob wrong. he announces his leaving.

they stand. Hob moves forward, like he's about to grab Dream's arm or something like that, ask him to stay maybe. Dream swiftly walks past him and Hob grimaces, they've fucked up the only constant in their lives. the only friendship with a being who could truly know him.

walking out dramatically into the dramatically raining night sky and Hob dramatically exclaiming, "i'll tell you what, i'll be here in 100 years' time. if you're here too it'll be because we're friends." (why are you friend zoning yourself man, you're in love) "no other reason, right" (the other reason is that you're in love with each other, why can neither of you idiots see that?)

"fuck." says the man who has just ruined his most long running friendship with the man of his dreams (i think i'm so funny).

and that's my analysis of their meeting in 1889, from Hob's perspective mainly.

#shippy shitposting #the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman tv #the sandman dream #the sandman headcannon #hob gadling #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #hob gadling analysis #dreamling #dreamling 1889 #dream of the endless

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I love to see my biases get the BB 1s, but when one starts making that their goal, hmm that kind of disconnects me from them as an artist.

I won't say more. I just wish artists I stan placed more focus on the art. Let charts happen naturally.

You're blog isn't like the blind fandom, so I am saying this here.

It's not hard to see through things. Chapter 2 has been interesting so far. I am not making any opinions based of things that are happening, but if it becomes a pattern with the artist, well... that's a problem.

Anon, we both know who were're talking about, lol. I'm gonna use the names, for the sake of making it easier for me to write a response.

A few weeks ago, I was watching this documentary about Wham. Some light entertainment for me initially, but it did offer me the chance for a fresh perspective. I don't exactly remember the details, but they've reached a point in which George Michael wanted to have 4 songs to reach number 1 on some chart, the fourth being Last Christmas. He was a bit obsessed with this and he also wanted to be a bigger artist. In later archival interviews, Michael actually mentions it was his ego as an artist because he knew he could. And he did, he outgrew the boyish band and the situation was almost ideal because Andrew, his bandmate, also knew that. It also meant getting away from their carefully constructed image, the object of desire for teenagers and women everywhere. For George, it was also about stepping away from performing a specific type of heteronormativity that can be found in boy bands. It never crossed my mind while watching it that his ego is too big, or why is he so obsessed with the charts. Maybe because it was all in the past and I've seen what the future would hold for him. Or that when I heard him talk about what he wants to achieve and his inner struggle, there was sincerity there and also that drive that only someone really young can have when they believe they can do anything.

I've read Jungkook's Weverse interview and listened to what he had to say during the Seven promotions. And while there may be some comparisons to be made to how George Michael came across when talking about his musical career, there were also some differences.

I'm glad to see Jungkook being more confident. I remember some of the things he used to say in the past, about his self worth, a lack of confidence and meaning outside the group. That wasn't healthy. And to hear him now, especially on Suchwita, it's a 180° change. But in his case, there's a very fine line between being confident and becoming cocky. And that's not a good look. It's almost like he's trying to project an image of a new Jungkook but one that is still in the works and not all parts fit perfectly together. He's going through a transformation ever since the hiatus, which I expected. It was about having to adapt to a different pace, life after 10 years of being part of a group. Jungkook was always trying to find his identity and this single is only one step in that journey.

But that doesn't mean that I as a fan and as a person, have to like it. If it doesn't match with what I'm looking for in the artists that I'm interested in, then so be it. I will talk about it, but I'll also not follow that person's musical career anymore. If I don't like the artistic direction and I don't like this overconfident, slighly exaggerated bravado, then that's it.

It's also impossible to not make a comparison to Jimin. Not for some dick measuring contest (it's what pjms and jjks are doing), but because there is room and justification for it. Both are from the same kpop group, both have embarked on a solo career and both chose a more mainstream pop music, as opposed to their older bandmates. And both got that BB 1. And what we can compare is song quality, artist reaction and how the company's response came across into fan spaces.

In terms of the songs, I could write entire essays because at the end of the day, it wouldn't matter. It's all subjective. There is no rule that says a number one song should be about some personal experience, or the singer should have writing credits on it. And I also can't take away my subjectivity. I will chose Like Crazy over a song that not only sounds like a Bieber tune from years ago, but also has lyrics as if they were written by the boys from Larry Clark's Kids.

As to the reaction, Jimin did exactly what I expected him to do. He was humble, grateful and emotional and we saw that when he turned on the livestream. It's what makes him who he is and how he always behaves. As opposed to that, Jungkook wanted to be appear cool. And for what? Especially when later he said how excited he actually was but he refrained from expressing that. Where's the authenticity that he seeks so much through his livestreams? Because he released a song about sex for which he never officially performed live the explicit version, that means that the attitude should match that? I know the next day he was live and he was really nice. But that entire event is tainted in my mind with this almost expectation and confidence that he'll get that no. 1 and after he got the western validation, they decided to remember there's fans at home too and went to Inkigayo.

Which leads me to the last point that shows the obvious bias and preference that cannot simply be denied when it comes to BH. It's even more obvious because the entire BTS brand was that there are no favorites, which is not the same strategy as with other companies and groups. And now, all of a sudden, there is. It's great that BH celebrates an artist's success and they can immediately put on a show. But it doesn't justify how the first one to have the achievement was ignored. I have to admit, I was happy when Jimin got his no. 1 because I thought it only meant more promotions, more Jimin, more of everything. Just to be left utterly confused.

I've put that all in the past and I really try not to get too emotionally involved because as an individual, it has no bearing on my personal life and it doesn't have that many negative effects on my fan engagement.

I side eye Jungkook for how he presents himself in official promotions, but then he goes live and all of a sudden, it's the Jungkook that I'm used to. The guy who is a dork and funny and grateful to his fans. The one who cries hearing fan songs and who still beats himself up for hours because he messed up a song. I do criticize some of his actions and statements, but I'm not slandering him. The guy seems like a genuinely nice person and I still like him. He's still one of my biases for many reasons. But me having this reaction to content catered specifically for fans to create a more intimate connection is something BH was always good at. We only have to look at all the BTS footage out there. They've perfected the way in which personality comes first a lot of the times. It's what draws fans in (aside from music) and what keeps them interested. I'm part of that.

I'm convinced that it's most likely that a Jungkook fan or army or whoever disagrees with me, will read all this and believe I hate Jungkook. Which would be a shame because all I'm trying to do is explain how complex this situation is. It's never as black and white as solo stans would like everyone to believe and it's not a debate that can be generalized and tossed aside as solo talk by the ot7 chorus. I'm sure there are a lot of reasonable people in this fandom still who are able to have more than one thought in their head and see that only through a naunced discussion we can look at facts, see what's an exaggeration and what's false. To be able to distinguish between facts and personal opinion and also to admit that. That's not possible if we're not looking at these people as complex beings, instead of victims and villains.

#m thoughts #jimin #jungkook #bts solo careers

[prophecyqueen]

I know you won't agree, but...I cringed a little at Aemond's line about Daemon. Well, like, c'mon, we know how it all ends. Moreover, it sounds too pretentious, but of course the context is important.

that's because you have not seen this line yet:

i kid. but tbh... to me... yeah it can be "cringe" and "cocky" and i know ewan is older than his character, but at this point aemond is still very young. to me, it's in line with his age. he has vhagar and he is overconfident, but that's not enough to kill daemon and survive, especially not when daemon's wearing plot armour as the writer's favorite.

#asks #aemond targaryen

[wanderingjedi77]

Bo Katan x Fem!Reader (Scars)

Summary: Getting injured was not part of the plan.

It had been a few months since you had seen Bo, and when she had come home from her latest mission; she had suggested a little rendezvous away from the castle, just you and her and some climbing equipment. Bo wanted to show you and incredible view on one of the cliff faces, well at the same time keeping up with your training on how to be a Mandalorian.

You leaned back to look at the ocean behind you as Bo waited for you at the top of the cliff. The ropes holding you in place swayed slightly, but you weren't too worried. This wasn't the first time Bo-Katan had taken you rock climbing.

"Pay attention and keep your footing, the next time we do this your free climbing." Bo-Katan called down to you. You looked up and saluted her with a smile, and she huffed, annoyed.

"I'll be fine. You worry too much Bo." You call back, and put your hands and feet back on the rocks, making your way slowly up the cliff.

"I worry because I don't need to carry you back to base again." Bo shakes her head, and you laugh.

"Look, I know what I'm doing!"

"You need to be careful, you're getting overconfident." Bo says. You look at her, and she motions her hand to her ear. Listen.

"I'm okay." You yell up at her, and move up a little faster when you lose footing. The rope yanks on you hard, and then starts to move away from where it's being held on the cliff face-

"Bo!" You scream as the rope comes loose and you slam into the side of the cliff, your ankle slipping between a gap before the rope pulls you back out and down. You yell as your ankle twists, and then feel a sharp intense pain up your leg.

"I'm coming to get you." Bo says suddenly, and you look up to realise she's above you, scaling the cliff with her bare hands. She reaches for the rope, still loose but not coming out of the wall as you feared. By the time she gets to you your trying to keep yourself from crying from the pain, and she wraps an arm around your waist to pull you against her.

"You could have died y/n." Bo scolds you, and you sob. "I thought I was going to lose you." You can hear the agony in her voice as she pulls you both up, and by the time you reach the top of the cliff your sniffling, trying to wipe your eyes of the tears that threaten to fall.

"I'm sorry-" You tell her as she unhooks you and lays you on your back. "Bo-"

Bo shakes her head, and looks at you with concern. "Just relax." She tells you, and pauses. "Can you stand?"

You shake your head no desperately. "No. I think it's broken." You tell her, trying to reach for your leg. Bo waves your hands away and pins your arms down to your side with a shake of her head.

"Can you please stay still y/n?" Bo snaps at you. You can hear the worry in her voice and see it on her face, even though her tone is angry, so you listen and stay still as Bo let's you go, and looks down at your leg laying at an awkward angle.

"I think it might be too." Bo replies, and she winches as you whimper in pain and a few tears escape from your eyes. You don't want to cry, you hate crying, but it hurts so bad-

"I won't be able to set it until we get home." Bo tells you, and she looks up; reaching over to wipe away your tears. "I know it hurts, but you're being so brave for me, my love."

"Thanks, Bo." You sniff and leaned into her touch. Bo gives you a gentle look, and kisses your cheek as she pulls her hand away.

"I'll have to carry you okay?" Bo explains, and you nod your consent before she picks you up in your arms; your head resting against the armor on her chest. "It's at least an hour back to home."

"I'll make it." You tell her, and she smiles grimly down at you. "I'll be good, I promise."

"I know you will my sweet girl." Bo replies lowly, and she starts to walk back to your palace home on the shores of Kelevala. It feels like more then an hour to you, as much as Bo wants to keep you steady, the rocky and grassy hills around you don't make that easy, and you try to keep quiet as ever jostle sends pain up your broken leg. Bo tenses the closer you get to home, and you can tell that the journey is taking it's toll on her, no matter how strong she is.

By the time she whisks you away inside, to your room she's breathing a little harder, and she let's out a sigh of relief when she lays you down in bed. You reach out and brush your fingers against her wrist as she pulls away, and she pauses; tilting her head down at you.

"I'm alright." Bo says to you, and she turns her focus to removing your boots and helping you change into your pyjamas, sleep shorts and a top so she can get better access to your leg. Your ankle is swollen and purple, and you bite your lip as her hand moves across it. Bo steps back and moves around the room, gathering bacta, a splint and wrapping. It doesn't take her long to set your ankle, and she steps back after she makes sure it elevated with a pillow, nodding to herself.

"You'll feel better in a few weeks." Bo tells you, and she sits down next to you on the bed. You watch her carefully, trying to see if she is still upset with you; but she reaches out and laces her fingers in with yours. "I'm sorry I got mad, I was scared."

"It's okay. Thank you for apologising. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." You apologise. Bo brings your hand up and kisses the back of it with a tired smile.

"It's alright sweet girl, we can work on teaching you to become a better listener later." Bo tells you, and then yawns.

"Will you stay Bo?" You ask her and she looks thoughtful.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Please." You answer, and Bo nods at you. She excuses herself and steps into the fresher to change, coming back out soon in a set of sleeping pants and tunic. She crawls under the covers with you, and wraps her arm around you to pull you're head against her chest.

"I missed this." You tell Bo, and she kisses you on the head.

"I'm sorry I've been away so much." She tells you. "I don't mean to be...but-"

"Mandalore comes first, I know Princess." You reply, and glance up at her.

"You come first." Bo corrects you, and she holds you a little tighter in her arms. "You always come first my love." She squeezes you, and you snuggle closer.

"Do you promise?" You ask sleepily.

"With all my heart and soul." Bo replies, "I swear to you, you are mine and I am yours. Always."

#bo katan kryze #bo katan x reader #bo katan x female reader #star wars #star wars mandalorian #anon request #answered #hope you like it

[trulycertain]

Favours

Act 2 Tav/Astarion. In which the Shadow-Cursed Lands don't leave much to hunt, Astarion is not having a great time, and Lora proposes a solution. And neither of them have Feelings. No sir. 3.1k.

Read on Ao3

"You're not well,” Lora says, when she finds Astarion at the edge of camp, sitting on a dead log and considering the shadow-rotted corpse of a bird. 

That battle was like something out of a tragedy about curses and overconfidence. She ended up flat on her arse in the mud three times, and her clawed-up arm’s been hastily bandaged rather than healed because she and Shadowheart both ended up so drained. Still, that doesn’t explain this malaise of his. Though prying a straight answer out of him was as impossible as ever, best she can tell, he wasn’t injured. Sometimes he goes somewhere else when he’s lost in memory, or working out how to phrase something deeply unpleasant, or scheming - it’s often scheming - and you just have to wait for him to return. This isn’t that. It didn’t just look like distraction on his face when they headed back to camp; it was more resigned misery, like he’d been hoping for something and not found it.

"I'm fine," he says, staring fixedly at where old flesh is starting to pull away from the cursed raven's bones. It looks like despair. That’s the word she’s been searching for: despair.

"You're pale, even for you." She sits next to him, uncorking her healing potion. "And you're -"

"Don't," he says, a hand raised, and hops up from the log like she's burned him, putting space between them. He still won't look at her.

"Have I done something, or are you just going to be evasive and then snap at me?" Not that it would be any different from usual. They’ve come to understand each other a lot more, these days, but still sometimes end up squinting at each other sometimes. He’s a two-steps-forwards, one-step-back sort of friend. She glares at where the bandages on her forearm are starting to stain, and unpeels them. Not a gash anymore, but the last of it is still -

"Don't be cruel." His voice is quiet, the way it only gets when something is very, very wrong; his shoulders are tense as a lutestring about to break.

At first she thinks it's her words, and then... then she looks at the blood staining her arm, and thinks like a vampire. "...Ah."

"Don't - sound like that." He sighs.

Frowning at him, she pokes, "I just want to know you're all right."

"I'm fine, just trying not to tear your throat out," he snaps - and his fangs are a sharp, intentional gleam of ferality in the moonlight. The briefest hint of regret crosses his face, and he exhales, sagging. "Just... I'll find something tonight, all right?"

If she told him how open he leaves his vulnerabilities sometimes, he’d recoil and snap at her. No, he’d snarl like a cornered warg and then flee camp. She knows he's trying to scare her off; he only does that when he's terrified. "What have you been feeding from?"

If it’s possible, he sags even further, all the indignant stuffing taken out of him. "I had a few supplies. Blood banks, bits and pieces. Then I doubled back, at first - back to around the monastery. Then, when we got too far for that, the land around the inn was... helpful. Squirrel has always been, and continues to be, foul. I did just about leave that ox alive, though honestly, it was on its last legs, it's not as if anyone would have missed it -"

"Since we came out here?" she asks, gently.

Now he looks at her, eyes wild and scarlet. He waves a desperate hand at the land around them. "Look at it. Everything here is dead. Decayed. There's nothing to -" He puts a hand to his face, and grits out, "I've got two miles to cover if I want to hunt, and it doesn't - it shouldn't matter. But I am very, very tired." 

"And starving." She thinks of his oldest doublet, gold thread fraying just a little at the edges; she watches all those carefully chosen words, that spine-upright, darling, I don’t give a damn toff’s poise, do the same.

"Yes,” he says, through gritted teeth, “thank you for reminding me."

"You could always…" She gestures to her neck.

He stares at her, follows the gesture; he seems to have trouble dragging his eyes away from her pulse, even as his words are carefully level. "You did me a favour, and believe me, it was appreciated, but... I always assumed that was a one-off." His voice is getting vaguer by the second. More hopeful.

She shrugs. "You're my friend."

Lathander knows how. It’s also one of the worst decisions she’s ever stumbled into. But things happen, and then you have a vampire unerringly watching your back and politely taking your “don’t you dare kill them” for an answer, and snorting at your jokes before carefully rearranging his face because he thinks you catching him will make you smug. Hm. Run-on sentences. She’ll have to watch those if she ever writes any of this down. At which point everyone will decry the protagonist for being an idiot, because He’s a vampire. Oh, and an insufferable bastard of a toff who toys with the little people like you for amusement. Also for breakfast.  

His eyes snap to her face, as if horror at her naiveté is strong enough to knock him away from the hunger. "It's that simple, is it?"

All right, so he might agree with her readers.

She says, easily, "It can be."

"How are you still alive?" he demands, but he's already stalking back to the log and sitting next to her.

"Some rogue with really good aim keeps watching my back."

He snorts. "Look at that, idle flattery. You really have been around me for too long. Now, not to be gauche, but would you prefer me from behind, or -?"

She's damn lucky she's not one to blush, and that it’s hard to see on her. She offers up her arm, and the two bleeding lines from a shadow’s handiwork.

He swallows audibly, visibly; she watches it in the graceful line of his throat. "That has to heal. If you can't play your lyre because of me, then, well..." He's hiding it, but hunger has put the hint of a glaze in his eyes. "The same reason I'm not asking for your wrist. And the back of your neck would be easier to hide, if you're not in the mood for awkward questions." His eyes skate over her face, her jaw, her neck. For a moment he seems to lose his train of thought again. "You really are unfathomably tall," he manages, with some effort.

Six foot two is far from unfathomable. Still, it doesn’t stop his not infrequent comments on it, or her retorting, every time, "No, you're just short."

Another snort. "On the ground with you, then. If you sit in front of me, I could manage this." Uncertainty blooms in his face. "If you're willing, that is."

That decides it. She downs the healing potion, puts it aside while the warmth of it starting to work spreads through her, and slides off the log. She catches the hint of surprise and something deeper in his eyes as she goes, and does him the favour of looking away.

He never makes as much noise as he should. Maybe it’s the lack of breathing from exertion; maybe it’s a vampire thing; maybe it’s just that preternatural grace, combined with his years of working in the shadows. More and more, as they camp together, she’s growing certain that sometimes he’ll let slip a creak of leather or a sigh just so he doesn’t startle her - or it might just be habit, from back when he was alive.

One moment she could almost be alone in a moonlit clearing save for the feel of a wiry, dense leg against her back - then there’s a whisper of fabric, and leather-clad knees are either side of her. "Just pretend we're swapping secrets and braiding each other's hair," he says, his breath soft on her neck. He brushes said hair away from her skin carefully, in the way of a man who spends far too much time on his own and knows that some things are sacred. "Not that it needs the help; it's rather lovely. High praise, coming from me."

She can’t eye him from here, but she tries anyway. "You're only saying that because I'm doing you a favour."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just feeling truthful." He inhales deeply, and she's certain he didn't mean to say it when he murmurs, "You smell amazing."

Hells, they've had sex more than once - he's given her so many easy, florid lines - but that, rough and unpractised in a way she's almost never heard him, threatens to bring heat to her cheeks.

And then he bites down, and it's a little difficult to think of anything at all. Sharp pain, not the worst she's had but not pleasant, either. She makes the smallest undignified noise before she can stop herself - a squeak of pain - and at that, feels the softest pressure against her upper arm.

His hand. She looks down and sees elegant fingers almost white against the dark purple of her shirt, his thumb stroking over her arm soothingly, gently. More gently than she would have thought him capable of.

Pain makes her stupid. She's reaching up, closing her hand over his, before she quite knows what's happening. The air between them tightens a moment with his silent surprise, enough for her to think she's made an utter mistake, that he's about to laugh at her - but he doesn't pull away. His fingers relax against hers.

Because she's doing him a favour, that's all, and because he doesn't want to tear a hole in her throat. She sits there, chest somehow aching because of him even as the pain in her neck has subsided to numbness.

That's the problem: without pain, it's all terribly intimate, in a way she tried very hard to forget last time. She sits here, encircled by him - one of his hands at her waist and the other against hers; his chest a line of wiry, deceptive strength at her back, curved close; that coiffed hair like a feather where it brushes her. His face is warming against her neck with her blood -

Hells. He didn't ask for this intimacy. This is a thing of necessity, not like when they've, well. She's not going to make something of this that it's definitely not. Everyone has to eat. He'll never ask again if she comes over like some sort of pervert.

Right. Lyrics to Over the Mountaintop. The first and second verses she has down by heart, the third needs a little work.

Twixt lands they came upon the sea...

It doesn't feel so bad, is all. It should, and yet. And yet. It has to be a vampire thing, some way to lure their victims into complacency - she doesn't even think he knows he's doing it. He's not used to feeding on people, judging from what he said and the dazed way he looked at her afterwards. Dazed and delighted - really delighted rather than the sneering defensive half-smile she's seen so often, eyes soft and startled... ("I feel... happy.") No, that's not helpful either.

By Helm's balls. Over the well-trod path they roam, with rising mists and seas of -

She almost doesn't catch the softest vibration against her throat - a pleased, approving little sound. A moan. And if she thought she was mistaken, they're so close that she can feel the exact way he tenses the tiniest fraction afterwards, as if he didn't mean to do that...

He might actually kill her. She feels her ears burn.

He carefully takes his teeth from her neck, panting a little - for show or just from habit, surely, but his chest is heaving against her back. "They should bottle you. Especially when you blush. Forgive me, I..." The gentlest, swiftest slip of wetness against her skin; she realises a moment late that it was his tongue, and her few remaining thoughts that were trying to cling on are blown clean away. "You must know, surely. I barely remember not wanting blood, but even you have to have an idea of how you taste."

"I, er... It's never come up?" She should have words. Words. Yes. Bards have those. "Except for the time you tried to bite me."

"That was once. Well, twice now." He still sounds a little uneven. The tickle of his eyelashes, the rapidly warming heat of his breath; she feels him duck his head and take another swift drink from her. And then it becomes something lingering, his lips pursing against her skin. He rests there a moment and says, very quietly, “Thank you.”

She's still realising that was a kiss when he's on his knees in front of her, squinting at her. Damn stupidly fast rogues. He says cheerfully, "Feeling all right? Not about to faint on me, are you?"

"I'm fine."

He raises a finger. Unimpressed, she follows it, side to side, and then gives him a Look. A glare is easier than seeing the new colour in his skin, or the way his eyes have darkened to the colour of, well, blood.

Still, there’s a line between his brows, his mouth a little tight, and there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there the first time, when he was busy being relieved after two hundred years of starvation: she’s pretty sure that what she sees now is… concern, though he’s hiding it behind a raised brow and a flat look. She tries not to be surprised. Instead, she sighs, and hums a set of notes, the Weave resonating around her - she blinks, and then the hint of lightheadedness is gone. She’s sharp as a dagger. It’s subtle, but she sees him breathe out, just slightly. Feeling at her neck, she finds nothing, not even a mark.

She says, "And you? Feeling better?"

"Oh, much." He runs a thumb over the corner of his mouth, catching a little excess, seeming too distracted to be embarrassed. He gives it a lick, and she contemplates the trees and the dirt and anything else. All that contemplation does is make her realise that maybe it's not him being distracted, but that he's comfortable with her. That's just as frightening in its own way, if gratifying.

He says, "You know, it's oddly... freeing." Catching her curious look, he explains, "I told you, didn't I? Cazador never allowed us to have thinking creatures. I've never... Someone has never willingly..." He waves a hand. "Offered. You know." He blinks, and looks away from her. "I appreciate the reminder I'm not back in his damned palace."

She nods, because she thinks he needs to say this.

"Thank you. For that, and for a rather enjoyable midnight snack." He's already looking away from her, carefully reassembling his mask.

"Astarion?"

"Hm?" He says it with the kind of airiness that means he cares far too much.

"You only have to ask."

"I know. And that's why I don't want to."

She frowns down at him, and he sits back on his haunches with a huff. "The first day I met you, you forgave me for putting a blade to your throat and then gave me blankets. I tried to steal your blood and you offered it to me instead. You... stop and give your time, your money, potentially your damned life to any wretched fool you come across! I refuse to be yet another poor sap you have to rescue."

She stares at him. "That's not - you're not - did I make you feel like that?"

"No, I did. And see, this is exactly what I mean! You're already trying to fix this."

"You're my friend. I don't want to hurt you."

"That - You're just making it worse. This world will eat you alive and instead you're offering it your - your..."

"My neck?" she asks, quietly.

He just looks at her, all frustrated resignation and embarrassment. "Yes, let's just pretend I didn't stumble right into that."

"The second day we met, a goblin caught me unawares. Gale and Lae'zel were at the other side of the field. The person who found it before it could reach me, who saved my life? That was you. You stay up on watches with me, pretending not to be helpful. You've unlocked doors that helped me avoid a head-on fight. You got me the antidote when I was poisoned and stayed to make sure it worked. You stopped me dropping off cliffs in the Underdark. You've helped bandage me up, even though it must have been... difficult, sometimes. I gave you my neck and you didn't kill me."

He squints like he's just smelled something awful. "You're saying I'm rewarding all your naive do-gooding?"

"I'm saying you rescue me constantly. And that you're an idiot."

"Now that -" He waves a finger. "The insults are what I'm used to. That's much better. Now just call me an 'arrogant self-serving toff,' and we can almost be out of this awkwardly complimentary phase of the proceedings."

"That was once," she mutters. "Usually I'm more creative."

"It was a memorable once," he says, casting a look of fond reminiscence to the sky. "I think it might have been your idea of a seduction technique." His eyes settle on her, dark and shrewd. "Well, it worked." He spreads his hands. "Here I am."

She wants to kiss that smug, grinning mouth. She wants to do many deeply stupid things. But... "Astarion, you need to eat."

With a sigh, he says, "You really do like to spoil a mood, don't you? Fine." He climbs easily, swiftly to his feet. "I'll just brave the undead wilds. I'll bring you back the rest?"

"Please. I can only survive on jerky for so long."

"Hmph. One bloodless deer, coming right up. For my bloodless dear." He grins at her, all fangs and twinkling eyes.

"And you say mine are bad," she groans, instead of kissing him, and fucking him, and falling asleep with that soft hair and that pale, half-warmed skin against hers. He's always gone by morning, but those drowsy moments... It's oddly comfortable. Not a bad way to spend a night.

He winks at her and then sidles back off to camp to get his bow; she watches him longer than she should, an elegant moonlit-white shape in the trees until it's swallowed by the darkness.

This story had a shape, a good simple shape; since she met him, she's had to rewrite so much. She wonders what in the hells she's gotten herself into.

#astarion x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #blood drinking and pining and whatnot #chaotic good kind of a disaster at love bard tav #lora mctavish #my fic #i think this might've been the first thing i ever wrote with them #back in... september? august?

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Per Spectral Shift

AO3 Link

Summary: Drs Jack and Maddie Fenton make a pact; it's a perfectly logical one, albeit emotionally difficult to contemplate.

Neither of them wants to become one of the evil, ectoplasmic monsters they hunt. So, after Maddie brings up the uncomfortable possibility of what if one of them did come back as a ghost, each of them makes a promise: if either of them does, in fact, die and produce a ghost, the other will dutifully eradicate it. Simple as that.

A heartbreaking possibility, but ultimately comforting, Maddie thinks, to know that her husband won't let her become what they hate.

At least, it was comforting, right up until the moment she wakes up outside of her own mangled body, surprisingly mentally sound and intact, only to find herself on the other end of Jack's blaster.

...

Prologue:

“Jack,” Maddie said one night.  They were up late, exhausted after a long day of ghost hunting, and the last one hadn’t ended pretty.  Phantom had shown up, meaning they’d had to split their attention between him and the ghost they’d originally been trying to fight, and the original one had gotten a few good hits as a result.  Phantom hadn’t come away unscathed either, but of course he’d still gotten away.  He always got away.  He was going to be the death of Maddie someday.

Which… was what she was thinking about, actually.

“Jack,” she said again, getting her husband’s attention from where he was falling asleep on his ham.  Jack jerked upright and turned to face her.  “Hmmg?” he asked.

“What if we become ghosts when we die?” she asked, and Jack suddenly looked very awake.

“Maddie, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, giving her an exhausted smile, but an amused one, like he really did think she was being ridiculous.  “We aren’t going to die.”

“Jack, I mean it,” Maddie said, turning to face him.  “We deal so often with ghosts, it’s not impossible to think that, well, that we’ll turn into one someday.”

Jack didn’t say anything, but she could tell he still wasn’t really hearing her.  In retrospect, maybe she shouldn’t have started this conversation when they were both half asleep and Jack was right in front of a ham.

Still, she reached forward and put her hand overtop of her husband’s.  “Jack,” she said, putting as much seriousness into her voice as she could manage.  “I need you to promise me that if I become a ghost, you’ll take me out before I can hurt anyone.”

Jack was taking her seriously now.  “Maddie,” he said, shifting their hands so he was holding hers.  “Come on.  As if a ghost could take you out.”

“Please, Jack,” Maddie said, looking him right in the eyes.  “I don’t want to become the monsters we work so hard to protect everyone from.  Promise me.”

Jack was silent for a long, long moment.  When he responded, his voice was grave.  “I promise,” he said.  “Will you do the same for me?”

Maddie swallowed, closed her eyes.  She hadn’t realized when she asked how difficult it would be to think about from the other side.  She nodded anyway.  “Of course,” she said.

“But for the record,” Jack said, putting a smile back onto his face, though it looked a little forced now.  “It’s not going to happen.  Because no ghost is going to get the better of Jack and Maddie Fenton.”

Now that the deal was made, Maddie allowed herself to smile back, slip back into the overconfidence her husband was feeling.  “Of course not,” she said, and her husband’s smile brightened back to normal too.  “But for tonight, I think we ought to head upstairs and get some—”

But when she turned, she found Danny standing at the edge of the kitchen, looking like he’d seen— well.

“Danny?” she asked, taking a step forward.  “Are you alright, sweetie?”  She hadn’t meant for him to hear that.  How long had he been standing there?

But the next second, Danny smiled.  “Just fine, Mom,” he said, and he slipped past her over towards the sink, turning his back to her and Jack both.  “Just woke up and needed a glass of water.  What uh, what were you guys talking about?”

Maddie breathed a sigh of relief.  “Nothing you need to worry about, sweetie,” she said.  “Just a difficult ghost fight.  Make sure you get some rest.”

“Will do,” Danny said, walking back past them both with a glass of water clutched in his hands.  For a moment, Maddie almost thought she saw his hands shaking, but then he turned and gave her one more very casual smile, so she decided it must have been a trick of the light as he walked out of the room.

“We should do that too Jack,” she said to Jack, who looked like he was about to fall asleep standing up in front of his ham this time.  Jack jerked awake when she said her name, and then nodded.  He put the now slightly-more-eaten ham back in the fridge and then followed Maddie up the steps.  Maddie could already tell he’d fall asleep the second his head hit his pillow.

Chapter One

#danny phantom #maddie fenton #danny fenton #jack fenton #jazz fenton #that's what I've got for now there'll probably be more characters later #still don't really know the ship names for this fandom platonic or otherwise #i'm working on it #my fic

[neptune-ian]

Tbh one thing I'm really very sure about BTS's fs is that non of them would be here questioning every other reader about their journey/details or anything in general with their partners,not they'll Chase any of them instead would prefer to work on themselves and let the timing be the key. I mean they won't be a delulu to get every other info about their personal and private life. What I've observed is many wannabes still love in this delusion that going to Korea or working in hybe would get them closer with any of the members and they'll fall in love with them...as if hundreds of people doesn't work in hybe or thousands of people don't visit Korea for studies or any other reason evey year :)) only if it was this easy, and moreover BTS are literally worldwide famous they literally have so many options and let's just not forget they are men in their late 20's (not saying this in negative way tho) i don't really think any of the member would prefer go for someone who's a delulu yeah i said it, they will want to be with someone who compliments them well in terms of their personalities and would love the for who they are and not because they are BTS members. Some of the people really live in delusions, not realising that you don't know any of them personally...reading the tarot readings and all is just feeding your delusion you aren't falling in love with them, you are in love with the idea of being in love with them, we don't know any of them personally to that extent we can say anything coz no matter the how much of a person is a green flag in terms of their personalities, we don't know if they'll be compatible with us in terms of their dating skills or even know how their dating skills are...!! So just love your life and become you- At the end of the day chasing someone wouldn't make you a better person but rather will make you forget your true self. I've seen many people asking about their ideal types and even tho I don't think it would be right to judge too quickly but most of the people just ask these questions out of curiosity if they fit in their types...and even change themselves for them or try to fit in them..like it hurts seeing how people are still not realising their self worth which should be higher than anyone. Like do you really think it matters if you fit in their type? Does it really matter if they'll find you Attractive or not? Or would date you or not? Not everyone is gonna choose you let's be honest and that's okay you don't need to critisize yourself to fit in someone who doesn't even know you exist. Realise your worth and realise that it's really important to build a future for yourself, and ask yourself do you really love them as you think you do or you just like the idea of them as you husband who's a proper green flag in your imagination and what if they are not exactly that in reality what if they have red flags just like very other human? Would you still choose any of them on that romantic way if you didn't knew any of them as BTS members but as a normal human being, who's not rich or world wide famous, who's a normal person whom you know nothing about? Would you really be able to accept that they have choices and 100's of girls simp over them and will forever? Would you be able to accept that you might not be their first anything and accept the fact that they have exes and they have shared a part of their life with them...?

Just know that when someone is meant for you, they'll make you a better person and won't make your mind a riddle or chaos in which you Chase them instead of chasing your own dreams and ambitions :))

I'm extremely sorry for my long ass passages but idk why but I just needed to let this out. As if their was a voice, I've been observing a lot of people wasting their life on someone who's literally a stranger to them.. and being super overconfident about it!!

Hi anon! I love you! No worries for your paragraph : at least it was useful!

You are 200% right. Those people would never be able to bear what they would live if they actually were their future partner. They do not care of the members, only of the idea of who they are/how they appear to the World. Nothing here is love just obsession/illusions/loneliness…

I hope I was not intrusive with their FS and not feeding delusions with my readings as I tried to be as objective as possible (even though it’s all lighhearted). It is indeed sad that they are here looking for confirmation/ways to approach them whereas it is not that important or whatsoever. I call them « spiritual sasaengs » to be frank. What they do not understand is that their ideal type can change with time/preferences/experiences… and whether or not they fit in their is always people that fit in it too so the members can find someone fitting in the ideal appearance prettier than them even though they tried their best to please them. It is an important waste of time for them but they will realize it later in life somehow.

They all act like « the one », « the one » but they would cry if they learn that they are not the only one thinking that and wishing it too. They did have past relationships whether they went well and end badly/goodly it is on them. You cannot be the one when all you want is to be with someone just because. Being with someone is a choice and staying with them too.

I get it that the idea of being with a celebrity/your celebrity crush is lovely and dreamy but projecting it into your life and making it your whole life purpose is so sad and depressing… not for the others but for them because it means they have nothing but being the other one’s partner. They are the « trophee », the « possession » and that’s it. How bad do you have to feel to accept being an object?

Whether or not the « one » exists if that is the case then they will find a way to be together in each other’s life even if it means to not be married in life but just best friends, good coworkers etc. Marriage is part of someone’s life when it is the case but it is not guaranteed to be with the person we thought it would be. They do not want to understand.

The worst is apparently that they are old enough. They did not heal those wounds in of theirs and DARE to wish death on someone who took their « place » (whereas it was never about them to begin with).

They surely where the same that threw shades on Jungkook/Taehyung because they were « supposed to be » with a girl (Jennie or the tattoo artist). Well if they do end up together they would cry blood everyday of how thirsty Armies are over BTS lol.

It is said that Jungkook knows of his spouse? I saw that in one of @estrella11117 ´s post well in that case what is the point of looking around to know whether they are his spouse? They should just check if he spoke about them if they want a real confirmation lol. But he never did… as far as I know at least. They are roaming around asking directly/indirectly if they are someone’s spouse whereas it is said to not 100% trust Tarot/divination and that depending on the reader they could be wrong. They just are naives, they should read fanfics, it is more adequate for their world than Tarot readings lol.

They may or may not heal even atfer the revelation of the couples but that is on them.

#tarot blog #anon ask #bts tarot

[catmaidetho]

assigning my favorite guys crane wives songs

aka, in honor of the crane wives being my #1 artist on spotify this year, have some insanity. this list is loosely based on the life series, but each song aims to encapsulate a character as entirely as possible w/o focusing too hard on any specific event. i'll also say that i actively tried to choose songs that i haven't seen us as a community talk about that much.

Etho - Volta volta is a song about making the conscious decision to be present in your life, taking back control. etho is someone who constantly jumps from thing to thing, never really staying put, and i personally interpret volta as not just consciously taking back control of your life, but also making the decision to settle into something. it is about fighting your nature of running away and choosing to stay. i will admit that this song is about vibes more than lyrical content. still, have some lyrics

"Do you remember being young and eager? My heart was buzzing like a wire Give me a reason to connect, be nearer"

Bdubs - Little Soldiers ON THE BROKEN BACKS OF ALL THE WORDS WE SPARED, LIKE LITTLE SOLDIERS IN THE TRENCHES. IT WAS A MARCH WE MADE TOWARDS RUIN AND DESPAIR BUT WE HELD HANDS ALL THE WHILE. I SWEAR THAT I LOVED YOU. I SWEAR THAT I LOVED YOU. I SWEAR THAT I LOVED YOU---I SWEAR, I SWEAR!!!!

LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THAT DOES NOT FUCKING SCREAM BDUBS. HE LOVES ME. I FOUGHT TOOTH AND NAIL BEFORE THE FLAG HAD FLOWN BUT YOU WERE ALREADY GONE!!!!!!

sorry little soldiers is one of my favorite crane wives songs. two people tied together with barbed wire, knowing that what they're in isn't good but refusing to let go out of a desperate attempt to cling onto love. tell me that isnt ethubs, especially the way we as a fandom dramatize them.

Cleo - High Horse high horse is a song about being a petty, spiteful motherfucker. it is about looking at someone you hold dear who has hurt you, and saying, "you know what? i won't stand for this" and throwing them under the bus.

"I'm done thinking about it You're never gonna get what you want So why feel guilty about it?"

Grian - How to Rest listen. look me in the eyes. i know we all like to pretend, especially in regards to scarian and the desert and double life, that grian did not/does not love scar. that the love, that the friendship, that the real connection they shared was not there because it makes for some juicy angst. look me in the eyes and tell me that grian being outright cruel towards scar is somehow more interesting than grian pretending he does not love scar, when in reality he does. tell me that blatant angst for angst's sake is more interesting than grian looking out for scar, not because of an obligation, but because scar is his friend and his ally and maybe sometimes people just chose to be around each other.

"Here's the truest thing I've ever known The heart is just a muscle with a rhythm all its own It doesn't stop when you decide not to move on The heart knows nothing of your love or of your loss"

Joel - The Wolf oh joel wants SO BAD to be a threat. he wants so badly for people to fear him, to take him seriously, to be the bad guy. however, his attempts at this often fall short, usually due to his own brazen overconfidence and snappy, petty nature. all of this, of course, pushes anyone who he hasn't latched onto away because who would want to align themselves with someone who wants so badly to be a loose canon?

"Can it be Can it be easy for once Cause I’m no good at being kind to myself Or anyone [...] I am a beast at your back You better run for your life"

Jimmy - New Colors i am by no means a jimmy expert, but this song is just so jimmy to me. he is so desperate to do well. new colors is a song about desperation. he is so desperate to be taken seriously, in a similar way to joel, but the difference is nobody ever does. i'm just going to leave you with these lyrics.

"Don't tell me that I can't Oh Lord, don't tell me that I can't I need this so damn bad"

"I give up my sight To see I give up my air To breathe"

Scar - Down The River i'm gonna admit, i really struggled to find one for scar, but i think this one works. scar doesn't put much stock into past grievances if it isn't convenient for him, he will simply move on and pretend he didn't do anything. this is ESPECIALLY relevant in moving between series---all bridges are burned, and must be rebuilt.

"Now, tell me, when you start again Where will you house your skeletons? Or will they stay behind Your settlement in kind?"

this post is getting kind of long, and im gonna admit im not confident enough in my characterization of the rest of the cast to assign them a song, so i'll leave this here for now :)

#khaos.txt #hi im INSANE aboutt music. if u read thru all this rambling tyvm i love you do you want some tea

[rttnpnkpmpkn]

💗🌷🌼 ✨This is the you are amazing award. Send it to ten bloggers you think are wonderful or just take a moment to bask in your own awesomeness! ✨ 🌼🌷💗

Aww thank you! Sorry that this ask took so long, mostly because I had to really sit down and meditate on how I want to answer this, especially when it comes to naming the wonderful people who helped made my online experience worth staying for ^^ I can't really pinpoint just a few people because it's pretty unfair to the others who come and go my way and had a part in my character development lolol.

I want to thank my online friends who we've made it through thick and thin whenever something catches on fire. (Y'all know who you are 💖). I had serious anxiety and trust issues, and I still continue working on it but my friends helped provide the breakthrough I needed to get to where I am today. They're my pillar whether they realized it or not and I hope I don't do them much disservice in the future *sweat*. Thank you for all the laughs and everything you do! I know my interactions come off as lukewarm (I'm very introverted, so my battery is busted as hell) compared to how you chat with others, but it's been an enjoyable experience from my POV regardless. Y'all get a huge boop from me!

I'm also sorry that it didn't work out with those in which we left on unamicable terms, they do also have a part in building more to my worldview and life lessons learned after all this. Life is short to hold grudges and stress, so I will wish that they too meet their peace along the way, even in separate rooms. I also have my moments where my handling and problem-solving skills need work, and I can only move forward and improve on the next with my communication skills. I really can't blame others for having a negative view on me because I know I could've handled things better. The answer just had to come later after that point 😓. Take care and may time be kinder to y'all.

I very much want to thank you and every random peep who took their time to comment and like my works! I cannot reply tp all of them because sometimes my energy be too drained to catch up with them all but it really makes me smile reading them! I'm taking notes from y'all~ xD

There are a whole lot of reasons but I'm making stuff to have something to look forward to. So many disappointments in life and circumstances beyond control, I was thinking," it doesn't matter if it's gonna be lost to time, if nobody is making this SHIZZ happen NOW, I'll do it myself!! (though that's too overconfident of myself since I lack the skills to do it justice lol) ." So even if it's been a waste of time in hindsight, it won't feel that way *during* it lol. I didn't realize then it would have resonate and be enjoyed by fellows on the same boat. Even if the campfire is small, the quality of company is better than the quantity. Though the only benefits to offer are inside jokes if you've been there heheh...

TLDR: It's been quite a journey to get to where I am. I have many people to thank for helping me learn, and thanks for being what I want to see in a community. Be well and have a nice one! 🥰🙏

#pumpkin thoughts #ask a pumpkin 🎃 #not art

[twstandsh0ut]

On Azul and shyness with a partner

Sooooo I've seen a lot of fics/headcanons on Azul being shy and easy to fluster in a relationship. And while yes, I can see that... I also see the opposite in the majority of situations. Character analysis under the cut, major story spoilers as well as spoilers for event stories and character vignettes (I spent... way too much time rereading everything...)

When Azul is first introduced to the player Grim is practically burning the school down and Azul is pretty quick to step up and offer his services to help. During the twistune Riddle calls Azul out on essentially playing with his food, and Azul in turn acts disappointed that Riddle isn't interested in messing with Grim more.

He's introduced right away as being confident and in control, with a side of sadistic. However, it's also pretty obvious he's looking to impress people, so you could infer that Azul is doing so to cover up insecurities. This is later shown to be true in Book 3 when we see Azul's past, and how panicked he gets when he loses his contracts. When Azul is in a position of power, he is very confident to the point of being on the domineering side. He craves power, and straight up gets off on being in a position above others. At the end of Book 3 we see a different side of him. In the flashbacks we see that he's very sensitive and has immense trauma from his childhood. This has translated into adult Azul having an eating disorder and being very particular about his appearance. He is extremely upset when the Ramshackle group sees his childhood picture... which isn't helped by certain people choosing to immediately judge him.

In events we see similar things. Beans Day shows Azul being confident to the point of cockiness. He's spent a full year preparing for this, accounting for dozens of scenarios, and the whole event is his master plan falling into place. Here we see how Azul gets when things are going the best for him, just like at the start of Book 3. As soon as things don't go his way (such as during the Ghost Marriage event) the overconfidence quickly fades away and Azul becomes more withdrawn.

So what does this mean for a partner?

I've seen a lot of fics and headcanons where Azul is shy about/doesn't like PDA. I actually think it would be the opposite. If he feels secure in the relationship, I believe he'd be showing his partner off at almost any opportunity. He really loves to flaunt having things others do not. We see that... literally any time Azul has the upper hand. So, I personally see him being pretty forward in public... as long as he knows his advances won't be rejected. However, if he gets even the slightest hint he might be rejected, I expect him to not make a move in the first place, or hastily play it off as something else. I see Azul as being more shy in private than in public. Since he no longer has an audience to show off to, that's where the nerves will start to surface again. However, I imagine if he's with a partner who is shy or easy to fluster (or on the submissive side) that once again puts him in a position of power, so in that scenario you would still see confident and in control Azul. But with a teasing partner? Or a more dominant partner that doesn't instantly give? You could fluster him. I do however feel it wouldn't happen forever, and would be more of an early relationship thing. Looking at his relationship with Jade and Floyd, whom he is comfortable with, you see them able to slightly fluster him... but he also seems largely immune to their teasing.

And that's the thing. Azul has spent waaaaay too much time around Jade and Floyd. There's literally a scene from the introduction manga where they're eating octopus in front of him to tease him. And Jade alludes quite a bit to teasing Azul all the time. So honestly, he would probably get flustered at first from a partner teasing due to it being someone new, but after a bit Azul's partner would really have to work at flustering him. Because honestly Jade and Floyd are a tough act to follow up on.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst headcanons #disney twst #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #character analysis #i actually wanted to go more in depth but then i saw the time so might follow up this post with another analysis later

[writingquestionsanswered]

Something always felt wrong about my writing and I think I've now found what it is: it is too corny. How can I fix this? I've written three full novels, I've studied plot structure, read and watched tons of resources, I'm a regular reader (at least 5 books per month, mostly within my genre)... But I always end up cringing when I reread most of what I've written. A part of me feels that, if I had any talent, I would've already overcame this by now. Sorry for mistakes, English is not my language, and sorry for bringing my problems here 🤦🏻‍♀️

Writer Feels Like Their Writing is Corny

Here's the thing... here's two things, actually:

1 - "Corny" doesn't mean anything. It's a subjective personal feeling. What one person finds to be corny another person might not find to be corny. So, unless you tell me what you feel is corny about your writing, I can't tell you how to fix it.

2 - You're actually not the best judge of your own writing...

As writers, we can be our own worst enemies when it comes to evaluating our own writing. For one thing, we can get hung up on confidence issues that make us feel things about our writing that aren't true. We can get overconfident and feel like our writing is flawless and amazing when it isn't, and we can get under confident and feel like our writing is bad when it isn't. We're also just too close to the writing... so close that we can't always see issues that others can easily see. So we're just not the most qualified people to judge our own writing, and that's why there's such a thing as critique partners, beta readers, and editors. And the truth of the matter is, most good writers struggle with feeling like their writing is corny at some point. It tends to happen more often earlier in our writing, and that's because it's more likely to be true then. But it still happens further into our writing journeys, even to critically acclaimed, best-selling authors. And obviously, then it's less likely to be true and more likely to be the kind of random self-doubt that plagues most creatives. But the point is that just because you feel like your writing is corny doesn't mean it is. (Again, you're not the best judge on that front...)

This is why it's ESSENTIAL for writers to get feedback from others. You can't know if your writing is actually corny unless other people read your writing and the bulk of them agree that it's corny. Otherwise, you're just going off a gut instinct that may not even be correct.

If you're truly as experienced as you say you are, odds are you're just experiencing random self-doubt, but the only way to know for sure (and the only way to erase the self-doubt) is to get feedback from others. Look for a local or online writer's group, find a critique partner, hire someone to do a professional critique, or find some beta readers. If all or most of them agree your writing is corny, ask them why and then let me know what they say, and I'll help you figure out how to fix it. I think there's a reasonably good chance that they won't think it's corny, though, but you won't know until you get the feedback. :)

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[antianakin]

I wanted to discuss a comparison between the exercise Anakin sets Ahsoka to in Practice Makes Perfect, and the Kobayashi Maru from Star Trek.

LOOK NO ONE HATE ME, I KNOW STAR WARS AND STAR TREK ARE RIVALS BUT I LOVE BOTH AND THE COMPARISON IS INTERESTING SO SUE ME

Anyway, the Kobayashi Maru is famously an unbeatable test. It's a test that all prospective Captains while they're still in training are asked to take at some point. It puts the prospective Captain and their volunteer crew into a situation where they end up in battle against an enemy and, ultimately, they can't win. They always lose.

(Jim Kirk manages to "win" the Kobayashi Maru by hacking into the test and changing the parameters in order to give himself the opportunity to win, he does not win the test by normal means)

The point of the test is not actually to win, though. The point of the test is to force all prospective Captains into a situation where there IS no winning in order to see how they react. The ideal reaction is actually to admit defeat and call for an evacuation or to flee or something along those lines, because it places the lives of the crew above the Captain's arrogance and need for glory. The Captain has to acknowledge their own defeat, the lack of options, and prioritize the needs of the many over their own desires.

It's an unbeatable test, yes, there's no way to win. But there IS a point to the Kobayashi Maru, there's a REASON that Starfleet asks its prospective Captains to take the test. It's to force them to face their own morality in a situation without any stakes, no one's actually about to die here if they fail. It takes a situation that actual Captains can 100% end up facing out in the galaxy and evaluates their cadets looking to one day lead an entire crew based on how they respond to defeat.

In Tales of the Jedi, we see Anakin give Ahsoka a test that also seems unbeatable. There's no actual stated goal, no ideal time she's supposed to be reaching before she gets hit. It's most similar to a game of Tetris where she's always going to lose at some point and the goal is just to see how much longer she can hold out this time than the last.

But not unlike Tetris, too, you don't necessarily learn anything from doing this over and over that will help you survive longer later. And whether you survive longer can often just depend on your mood that day, how many distractions you get, and how tired you are in that moment. And pure sheer luck, obviously.

Ahsoka's given an unbeatable test, but she's not actually learning anything from it. There's no moral lesson at the end for her to figure out. There could have been. The test could have been for Ahsoka to recognize that she won't always be able to just defeat all of her enemies easily the way she does in the Jedi's test and to put her in a situation that she absolutely CANNOT win without running. That the only way to "win" was to run. This 100% could've been the ENTIRE POINT behind Anakin's test, that instead of just giving her an unbeatable drill, he's asking her to admit defeat, to let go of her overconfidence and her arrogance and recognize a situation that is just impossible to survive by brute force and skill alone.

Because this would really fit in with the flaws they gave Ahsoka back in early seasons of The Clone Wars, that Ahsoka is advanced and so she is also often overconfident to the point of arrogance and putting her own men in danger, not to mention herself. Anakin forcing Ahsoka to recognize a situation being unwinnable would've been a really interesting new level to their dynamic.

But that's not really in character for Anakin is it?

#tales of the jedi #totj #kobayashi maru #ahsoka tano #tales of the jedi spoilers #totj spoilers #star trek #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker