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t4rt4gl14 · 2 years

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IM GETTING EXCITED JUST THINKING ABT DRUNK KAZUHA SMUT YES ITS A GOOD IDEA 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

⌜⌳⌝ — 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞; 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐞~

-> 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : kaedehara kazuha !!

⑄ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mndi. dark content ahead. fem!reader + mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption + deepthroating ( receiving )+ railing ( receiving )+ overstimulation + dom!kazuha + drunk!kazuha + cumflation + markings/hickeys + spanking + teasing + edging + facefucking ( receiving) + fingering ( look it’s just one of my great masterpieces )

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : y’all THIS MIGHT BE FAVOURITE FIC THOOO 🤩🤩 cuz i had to write for drunk kazuha from the GAA event <333

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 634

you’d wondered where kazuha pondered off to the entire day, you wanted to ask him how he makes an amazing dish so you went looking for him, only to stumble across a winery with a certain bard, you ran over to him, attempting to tap on his shoulder to wake him up but found no avail, “kazuha. k-kazuha?? uhh is he alright?”, venti then explains how he’s incredibly drunk 🙂. but then suddenly kazuha shoots up from his seat and wobbles from side to side; reaching out to hug you, “h-hheehee my pretty y-y/n *hic* i m-missed you so-ahh- s-so much *hic*”, it was clear he needed to go home and rest so you bid your farewells to venti and left.

[ N$FW BELOW !! ]

when you finally made it home whilst dragging kazuha along, you take him up to your shared bedroom and rid him of his clothes into something more light. you got up to get him a cup of water but was inevitably dragged back to the bed and in the sheets. kazuha began kissing you all over, peppering your face in light smooches and nibbling on your ears n neck, his soft palm slowly moving down your body and onto your crotch, just to rub and grind on your clothed sex. “k-kazuha you’re literally drunk i need to-“, you were interrupted with a deep kiss before parting with a string of saliva which soon broke. “shh savour the moment, enjoy it, wanna feel good with you.”

“mmm touch me down there please~ mmn want you to suck my cock, pretty please hhehehe”, you were surprised since he was usually never this direct but then again, he is still drunk 😒. despite being drunk he was incredibly sensitive, just one kitten lick on the tip and he was already leaking pre-cum. you wanted to take it slow but clearly kazuha had other plans so his fingers found his way to your soft hair and shoved your head however he pleased, using your bare throat as a fleshlight since he ravishes in the contractions of your mouth, how you slap his thigh because he’s a bit too rough, how you gag and groan, fuck he just wants to empty his balls right in your mouth..and then again and again n again. againagaingain.

“cumming!~ ♡♡nmgh!~ anghh ♡ohh mm! that’s right take it all♡, mm~”, you can barely catch break, when you swallow his seed, he flips you on your stomach, and with a spank he commands you, “lift your hips f’me”, and once you obeyed you were rewarded with praise. his fingers move to your hole, your pussy practically calling his name and begging for him to ravage you, ugh he just wants to rail you into the mattress, make you moan his name and grip the sheets so hard they might rip. despite being so close to cumming, he always slows down and giggles, “ehh? hehe were you gonna cum?? mmhehe not until i say so”, he holds your hips in a bruising grip and you really think you might lose it if you don’t cum.

but thankfully at that moment, kazuha shoved his length in, it may not be long but fuck it’s so thick. “‘mmm i’m stretching that cunt out arent i? fuck- m’gonna fuck you s’much, can’t stop..don’t wanna stop”, he’s completely lost himself in you- his urge to breed and fill you up kicking harder than ever. leaning down to mark your neck once again, his hand sliding across your body to rub clit whilst he pounds you, all the while your knuckles turn white from the grip you have on the pillow, and your glossy eyes rolling back from the pleasure, unable to form sentences but only babble, “sensitive! too sensitive! anghhmm♡♡”,

— [ from the event ] “hnnhehe…more. moremoremoremoremoremoreeee; hehhee moreeee~ more please~~”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆: @kxisuke @currysrealm @leathernourishingshoepolish @stygianoir

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mahiiimahiiii · 2 months

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office hours

a/n: rizzard in his happily married middle aged glory, God dropped this plot in my head. finally posted, sorry for all the teasing. '

Cw: fear of voyeurism (and kind of like threatening it??), named tav, dw the door is locked, off-hours fantasy, gale is a bit chunkier, rizzard in his middle aged glory, notes on tav still looking young, (not similar life spans), lunch, notes on tav being a brown person, worship, uncomfortable (yet satiating) sex, sloppy as hell sex, breeding, notes of pain from cervix, squirting, ear play, vers gale, spit for lube (and the soreness that ensues), gale wears glasses, he also wears sock garters, I have a vision ok…….., whispering & dirty talk.

(Tav is a teifling with brown skin and some vitiligo pigmentation, she has curly hair that forms a little halo around her head, bangs with side pieces that fall longer than her typical length of hair. She is a bard!)

read here, or under the cut!

The halls of Blackstaff were magnificent as always, perfectly so. Decorated with filigree and the faint shimmer of enchantment. The halls were harder to navigate, ever turning, and ever changing.

This made delivering lunch weekly on your day off mostly difficult. Your husband, the wonderous gale of Waterdeep- or perhaps now, just professor Dekarios. he had said ‘just will the path into existence’, which you earnestly thought was stupid.

You had always been practical with magic, being a bard helps with that. But you stressed slightly, how many hours, perhaps minutes did he have left to eat and relax. And how many minutes would you have left for chores, and dinner prep.

Busy, busy, busy. Never a dull moment.

A sigh of relief left your mouth as you found his lecture door, his soothing voice echoing out in waves from the crack. Still in lecture! You gingerly slipped through the door, careful not to let the hinges creak behind you. Chalk tapped against the chalkboard as he sipped gently at a mug of tea and cleared his throat continuing with his speech. His hair was thrown back into a loose half up and down messy bun, staticky hair poking and prodding out like new spring buds. He wore a new suit vest, a stripped pattern with an argyle tie, and a light blue button down, paired with the same-colored magenta slacks. His tie pin was one of a crescent moon, (he had been on a theming kick recently). Today was on magic in other areas, written on the board were a

couple pooled questions by the students. Does music automatically equal magic? How do paladin oaths work? Is It possible for magic to be innate?

He finished off his mug tapping at pages to read on the board, waving off the students and their cloaks that looked way too large for them. A stream of bobbing heads, ears and horns followed out the door. You had to maneuver around the groups of students, slowly moving their way out, a few stragglers lounging around the professor’s desk.

“I hope I’m not too late- “you approach him, setting the tin of food wrapped in a handkerchief onto his desk.

He beamed when he laid eyes on you, cheeks flushed a rosy hue. “you’re right on time, I’ll see you in the office, I just need to help a student with a spell pronunciation- then I’ll be with you.” He caught a finger under your chin, kissing your brow. His breath smelt of an earthy green tea, sweetened with honey, and the zeal of lemon juice that followed. He turned his back to you, helping the student to write it out phonetically. You heard his bright praise as the thick office door closed behind you.

The office- you remembered dearly, you helped assemble. A room with high ceilings, decorated with diagrams of spells and sheet music. One wall was clad with photos of his family, a portrait of both of you front and center. Small linocuts of your companions sat on a bookshelf nearby, as well as tomes discussing your previous acts, which he so proudly showed off. He had asked for a new cupboard to house all sorts of dried teas, which he unhinged the doors of and installed onto the walls, framing them with delicate laces. It mirrored a little alchemical shop. The walls were a cozy and warm purple with white and brown accents. He had a little hearth and big windows facing the bay, a window ajar, the new tressym kitten may have gone out exploring. Tara the second, Gale called her.

The door creaked open as you admired the wall of portraits, you jumped within your shoes, tail swishing in a slight panic.

“I’m sorry little love, have I frightened you?” he kissed your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and swaying gently. His lips found their way up to the shell of your ear, nipping it gently. He spun you around, taking in your new sundress, yellow with pops of white blooms, a pair of lacy socks and brown kitten heels to match.

“You look positively divine- are you sure there wasn’t other intentions behind this?” he cocked a brow, the settled in features of his face creasing with mirth.

You’ll be completely honest with your feelings, jobs, children, life in general has led you two apart. Intimately it seems-

This you had no problems with, as gale had all the love in the world for you. He made sure to show his affections readily and often- with you in turn.

To this- you sheepishly nodded, tucking a curl behind your ear. “Perhaps there was motive… if you’ll oblige me of course.”

Something new swirled into his eyes, a fiery spark of desire. He cracked a grin turning heel to the door. “Shame lunch will be spoiled then; I do have an appetite for something else in mind. And I wouldn’t be a smart man to waste an opportunity like this.” With a quick flit of his fingers a secure spell of arcane lock was cast. His lashes dropped in amusement, striding over and draping himself over a dark velvet fainting couch near the small hearth of the room.

You bent down, unlacing the leather straps around your ankles and stepping out of the heels, setting them down beside his desk. He mirrored you, taking off his tanned loafers and crystalline spectacles.

“You look rather dashing today, I had meant to tell you before you left for work.” You glided over to him, tail wagging as he made space for you to settle into his lap. You clambered over him, your limbs not as refined and delicate in their actions as they once were. You settled into his lap, conscious of the warm throb in his pants. You quirked a brow, as he ground up against you his hands cupping and fondling your ass.

“Already my love?”

“Already…” his words were feather light, a wonky smile plastered on his place. “I am always ready for you.”

You bent over cupping his chin, thumbs and fingers running over the rim of his ears. He groaned gently into your mouth, his lashes fluttering. His hands wove into your hair pulling you close, one leg bouncing against the floor. You hummed, rocking your hips in time with him, the sensation felt delicious on your neglected clit. You ran your tongue against his lip, he bucked his hips in response- mouth falling open sightly. You ran a hand through his messy hair gripping the base of his waves eliciting a whine from his lips. You connected panting mouths again, warm groans spilling into your mouth as you found a rhythm of pressure. His hands settled and gripped your thighs, pressing your warmth onto him for stimulation. You ran a tongue along the indents of his teeth and the ridges of his mouth, the kiss became sloppy as you gently sucked on his tongue. He broke away, hands shuffling to unbuckle his taught pants. He paused, watching you remove the flowing dress revealing the lacy blue set of underwear, completed with pink ribbons near the ruffles.

He sighed, shoving down his pants and taking off his sweater. He bemusedly slowed down catching your eyes as he slowly undid his button-down shirt.

A whine caught in your throat, crawling towards him- shuffling his hands away to undo his buttons. Once partially removed your ran a hair through the swirling patterns of hair on his chest. You fit yourself into his neck, kissing the shell of his ears, nibbling and biting at his lobe. He shuddered, his hands going back to busying themselves to filling with your form. You kissed down his chest biting at him with your sharpened teeth, he squirmed under your touch- his hand gripped the back of your curls.

You glanced up catching his eyes, he nodded. You unlaced his boxers which crackled at your touch, tugging them off his legs and tossing them somewhere. You exhaled, tail thumping against the cushions in slight excitement. Gale pursed his lips and averted his eyes, pink warming his already rosy cheeks. You kissed down the happy trail that lined his soft stomach, inhaling the scent of him contained by his skin. Rose water, oak, pine and musk, he smelt wonderfully fresh.

He was slightly self-conscious of this newer version of him, a body softened by age like a ripe peach. You thought it fitting- the softness of course- he aged well. You cupped his sides, squeezing them gently. “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” you ask softly.

“Many times-why do you ask?” he quirked a brow.

You shrug, lifting his thighs around your hips, giving them a firm squeeze again. “Thought I’d remind you.” You mold to his body, thighs rubbing together adding pressure to his already neglected member. Your lips mark their place down his neck, staining his skin a soft pink from your lip balm. You made your way down again, making sure your lips marked every surface of his skin. His hips strained for movement but found none to meet it.

You marred his inner thigh with bite patterns, his skin breaking into patterns of pink and red. Your tongue ran its way up his perineum sending flames to his stomach, a squeeze to his heavy sack had him tensing beneath you.

Your nose buried in his happy trail once more- you let out a contented sigh.

His hips bucked slightly his cock tapping your chin. “My dear- be kind please- “

You grinned “gale, I don’t intend to be kind- perhaps I’m trying to enable your behavior for later.”

He let out a strained moan, his lids scrunching shut. “God id like that so much- please- “

“Like what now gale?” you teased pinching the head of his pink cock, rolling the skin up and down.

His hips strained again, a low hiss through his teeth. “Gods, you know- I don’t want to spell it out, hells.”

You stopped your slow steady strokes to kitten lick the head of his member, his fists began to clench and unclench. “I’d like to hear what you’d like, professor Dekarios. Lecture me- if you will.”

He swore under his breath one open, “you-!” his chest heaved, trying to buck his hips up from under your heavy hand. “Fuck- fine- I want to be in you- I want you to bloat with my seed. Gods-! Want everyone to know your mine- so help me- going to fuck you over my desk-.” His breathing was labored, his thighs clenching under you. His eyes went wide as he covered his mouth, poor gale was surprised by even his own vulgarity.

“you’d like to try for another child Mr. Dekarios?” you squeezed his balls sucking gently on his inner thigh.

“By the weave-! Yes-!” he sounded exasperated, his lip quivering.

“Very well, you’ve been good. I suppose you’ve earned your treat” you lowered your mouth onto him, a groan rolling through his throat. You dragged your tongue against his skin, the salt refreshing to your taste. You found the small spot on his head and rolled your tongue against it. His hands shoved down your head, burying your head into the patch of curls framing his cock. He shuffled his hands moving to your horns squeezing and fondling the base ridges. Your moan reverberated around him, he lifted his hips, the garters that held his socks squeezing the meat of his thighs.

You tapped his hip, the wizard’s grip loosening from your roots. The air around you smelt like him, you sputtered a little coming up for air. His face was flush, lips gently parted in gasps for air, curls clinging to the sides of his face. Gale’s eyes, taken over by the darkness of his pupils, held only desire and need.

You cupped his ass, a growing grin on your face as your lips found his length again. He rolled his hips up, thighs snapping like a steel trap around your head. Youd hope that perhaps you’d die this way, buried in your lovers’ thighs. A heel to your back cuts off some oxygen making your head spin. You glance up at him, his eyes pressed shut in focus. You hollowed out your cheeks, taking him further into your mouth, feeling the muscle in his thighs tense at the sensation.

“li’ia- “he gasped “my darling- I’m certainly close- I’d feel bad if you didn’t have your fun as well.”

You let out a muffled acknowledgement.

His legs loosened around you, his hand gently rubbing at the sore part of your scalp. Your lips leave with a soft pop, lip balm well and truly smeared against his skin. He hissed at the cold, maneuvering around you to stand up.

“Desk.” His voice slightly roughed as he commanded. He followed you, catching small kisses on the back of your spine. He sighed happily as you bent over the desk, almost like a planned muscle memory. Gale’s knees popped as he knelt, tugging down the delicate lace of your underwear. He maneuvered to rest in the space between your hips and the desk. The professor tapped a leg to push up on the desk, giving access for him to be nestled into the wetness of your cunt. His tongue lapped a stripe between your folds, he shifted one hand on your thigh the other groping needily at his cock. You watched him work, hand steadying yourself on his desk. A framed page of your journal that you gave him of the two of you rocked gently against the desk.

Gale hummed, his lips buzzing around your clit, nipping at the bud carefully. His tongue dipped inside of you, laying it flat against your core to rock at an easy pace. He nipped the inside of your thigh, signaling his contentment. you lifted your leg out of its slowly cramping position, setting it on the floor. The wizard made his way up your body, hands squeezing and fondling anything it could touch, his lips placing gentle kisses up your stomach.

“Come- sit upon your bone throne.” He chuckled at his own bad joke, sharing a cheeky grin with you. You tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Someone with a lovely pair of thighs must sit for that feat to be achievable.” You pressed against him; his member throbbed in the small amount of space between your stomachs. The pads of his fingers trailed over your skin as he walked past. Seating himself with legs spread for better access to him.

You settled on his thighs, spitting a couple of times into the palm of your hand. The mixture of slick and spit in your palm coated his twitching member, running and cupping your hand against his length, he let out a low warble. Carefully, and as delicately as you possibly can manage, you lifted your hips and guided his tip to your awaiting entrance. He held his gaze in your eyes, both of his hands supporting your hips.

You lowered.

A brilliant flare of fireworks went off inside your head, the heavens parted for some foggy clarity of how neglected you were. Your walls stung and clenched protectively at the stretch; gales hips quickly snapped upwards out of reflex adding to the tinge of pain at your core.

You held a hand on his chest and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, “hurts- hurts.” Your tail strained behind you, every part of your muscles tensing.

“Come here- “he wrapped an arm around you, sheltering you with his arms, your nose found the notch in his neck and pressed small weepy kisses into it. His thighs flexed under you, impatient, but concerned at the hurt that he may have caused. He kissed the crown of your head, rubbing at your back in slow motions. “Let me remove this off of you” he whispered; words filled with reverence. You rocked your hips back, a pressure shifting to nestle itself under your bladder and against your cervix. Gale hooked his thumbs underneath the hemline of your cotton bralette.

“I like these- where did you get them? Lovely color too, suits such pretty brown skin. Then again, my star, you look delicious in any color.”

“I do find that reds make me look too red though.” She hummed thoughtfully, “in Mephistopheles, it is better to wear blue. Within infernal societies we tend to note our heritage by the color of our skin. I often get mistaken for a teifling from Avernus if I wear red.”

“Blue doesn’t look as lively on your pretty face.”

“Oh shush. The recommendation was from a lovely spawn, who recently moved to the underdark.”

“He didn’t move until now? It’s been ten years!”

“He had to convince his partner, my love. Halsin doesn’t want to live without sun so easily. He sent me an assortment of things, new fabrics he said.”

“Perhaps I have let him in too much on my fashion tastes. Never again will I gossip with Astarion.”

“A wise decision, that one.” You chuckled.

He tentatively rolled his hips as a retort, hands finding the swell of your breasts. His head nestled in the crest of your chest, hands cupping your chest, fingers nimbly pinching your nipples. Your thighs tensed again, another, but thankfully smaller ping of pain emanating through your lower abs. “Would this be more preferable?” the pads of his fingers brushed against your throbbing clit, sending little electric sparks to your toes. Your exhale told him all he needed. He curled an arm around your waist, throbbing inside in tandem of your clenching walls. He pinched and massaged the mound, your tail beginning to wag. Your core warmed to him, the stretch and pain completely vanishing. He slowly rocked his hips, a hand cupping your ass,

reclining against his chair, his eyes all but rolling into the back of his head. “Gods…” he whispered. “Oh, how I long for you… oh how much I wanted this.” Words burbled from his lips, slightly incoherent. “Gods, if any of my colleges caught me like this- I would be fired for sure-! Oh, but they would truly witness what a goddess looked like.”

“I can’t grant you powers gale.” You chided, though secretly flattered. “I would gladly worship you instead of Mystra…my devotion- its eternally, irrevocably- only yours. God if they could watch, only to witness your own glory.”

“it’s a good thing I offer my light to you, beloved.”

“Oh, it’s such a good thing indeed. A little part of me wants to show those who would witness us what it looks to worship- what it means to be- utterly devoted.”

“My dearest gale- you are babbling nonsense; may Cyril bless you with the wit and constitution to say something meaningful.” You tease, adding a playful roll of the hip.

He rolls his eyes, aiding the lift of your hips up and down his length. “With you I forget myself, we are a one connected entity. You are my lifeblood.”

“You say such sweet things” you capture his chapped lips in a kiss, the rolls of your hips and the slick pooling at the cleave of his ass wrecking an echoed cacophony in the padded room. He pants into your open mouth, his hips pacing varying from quick snaps to slow languid thrusts into your warm and waiting walls. The wizards’ fingers rubbed against your clit in circles, pressing the rest of his fingers into your lower abdomen to stabilize his wrist. His fingers buzzed with a slight enchantment that he rasped into your mouth in-between nibbles and kisses.

You kissed his crows’ feet that crinkled around his eyes, the furrows of his brow from focus, and the mismatched dimples in his cheeks. The curl that settled itself in the middle of his forehead bobbed gently.

“Do you want me to-?” he stammered, biting down on his lip. He was close, his hips jumping at the chance to be fully sheathed inside of you. “I wanted to- if you’d like- I know we’re getting older, but I don’t think just a cat- would be my desire... to propagate- “he continued to babble. “My mother would- greatly appreciate, a child- from her only son.”

“She isn’t satisfied with a cat?” you pretend to be against between hearty sighs.

He bit his lip again, his eyes closing, overstimulated by the sensation of how tight you were around him. You braced his shoulders for better leverage, his head hit the back of the chair, gasping out for release. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, bumping your hips into his vibrating fingers.

“Hells- yes- id love that- Gale I’d love to be a parent with you. There is nothing that would make me happier- “he cut you off, shoving your hips into him, fully sheathed he could finally combust within you. His lips found yours for a feverish kiss, wrapping his arms around you. You ran white hot in your core, a series of fire rockets blasting off in your loins, sending dizzying signals into your head. It was like he cast cloud of mist into your head. He rocked his hips a couple of times, your walks milking him of cum. Ropes of cum spent directly into your awaiting womb. Another flash of heat, you felt a deep pressure release onto his hips below.

You press your foreheads together, exhaustion seeping into your bones.

“Can you take the day off- “you murmur into his skin, a soft sinking feeling inside of you as he went soft. His seed within you dripped out and mixed with the rest of the liquids pooled in the seat.

He snuggled himself into your shoulder, watching your tail wag idly. He finally sighs, “I have classes in thirty minutes or less…but! You are welcome to stay in my office until you feel better.” He chuckled softly “earnestly, I’m not entirely sure I want to get up. My hips hurt.”

“You poor thing…” you kissed the crown of his head, scratching small circles into the back of his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up then- I’m certain we made a destructive mess.”

“No mess can withstand the realms of magic.” He puffed his chest out with pride.

You glared at him slightly, though you gave in and finally patted his cheek. “Fine, do your magic.”

He pumped the air summoning things to help clean up. With you, he took the utmost care.

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abelle25125 · 2 years

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a comprehensive list of all things sus about Adrian Graye

ok so i have been slightly obsessed with the illusion coven head since his introduction in hunting palisman, but now that we’ve had an episode with him as an actual character there are some things about him that feel super suspicious and i’m going to try my best to explain them here

1:Despite being the head of the illusion coven, We never actually see him cast any illusions.

When we’re first introduced to him when he tries to trick the school into joining coven he mentions that the illusion of him was cast by a different coven scout

“Tom, that Adrian illusion was lacking a certain, hmm? You get me?”

and given his need to yell for the illusion to end rather than just stopping it himself, we can assume that he wasn’t in control of the illusion in that scene.

We can probably apply this logic to his later scene with the fake willow and Belos - as we’ve seen in the past that illusions need a constant focus when cast by a witch, and he seemed a bit too concentrated on bullying his actors and kicking hunter in the back of the head to be casting anything.

Him snapping his fingers and the Belos illusion vanishing could either be read as him dispelling the illusion or calling of the two Guards behind it, but given the lack of evidence towards the spell belonging to him, im choosing to believe the latter.

this leads us onto the next few points:

2: He casts spells without drawing a circle and

3: the only two times he draws a spell circle, he does so while holding/using his magical amplifier

in his first scene after Gus calls out the fake Adrian, we see him hand off his coffee cup and then in a poof of smoke - appears next to and grabs Gus. you cant touch illusions, so neither of those were fake, which means that, without drawing a spell circle he’s teleported across the room.

We only see him draw a spell circle twice in the entire episode, the first time he literally uses the magical amplifier to draw it, and the second time he’s holding it.

now these first three points could just be explained by saying “oh he’s the coven head he’s super powerful at illusions he probably doesn't need to concentrate or draw circles or whatever” but then even ignoring all that there’s -

4: this man is waaay to focused on the looking glass ruins

Graye was sent to Hexside by Belos to brand the children, but the moment the illusion stuff kicks off and he sees the looking glass ruins he abandons that plan to hunt down gus and figure out where the graveyard is. His reasoning is that the galderstones would be good gifts for belos, but are they worth abandoning his mission for?

the reasoning could just be that he’s figured that the branding mission was a bust and hes in the panic of ‘i need to please my boss so he doesn’t kill me for failing so bad’ and wants to make it up for him, but then why does he seem to be happier when he sees that the galderstones are intangible

either way - this is not the face of a super confident person who has everything under control

The looking glass ruins have come up a few times now in relation to the EC, and based on how good TOH is at setting up plot lines - it feels like they’re building it up to be more important than it seems.

then of course theres the one that a bunch of people are talking about

4: He got his ass handed to him by Gus’ memory bubble

that shit fully incapacitated him, like he was still knocked out , fully catatonic later on, like - not even hunter got knocked down by this and he’s gone through some shit - and Graye’s comments about bad memories feel way to prominent to just be a passing comment.

Theres been a fun trend of all the coven heads being ironic in some way , a bard with stage fright, a plant head who loves killing ect; so having an illusionist who’s been lying about something to get where he is today could be really fun

so whats up with this guy? lets figure it out- yeah he’s a basilisk

- similar fangs, tail and :3 face

- similar hair styles

- same blue teleportation magic

- including the inspector from the first day we’ve only seen 4 of the 5 basilisks

- Basilisk number 4 even has the same hair squiggle as Graye

theres kinda just a weird amount of evidence supporting this theory, it’s probably not true, and if it is, probably wont have a lot of plot relevance, but i cant help but think theres something else going on with this guy. He’s the only coven head who’s showed up by himself in an episode so far, and there’s just a lot of details and potentially foreshadowing stuff happening around him.

this ended up being way longer than i planned so kudos on reading all the way through

#THIS WAS SO MUCH LONGER THAN I PLANNED OH NO #hi im slightly obsessed with this guy #literally the moment my arm healed i started drawing him (and then i injured my arm again but dont worry about that)#and then i stopped mid drawing to make this whoops #adrian graye #adrian graye vernworth #the owl house #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #toh theory #basilisk theory #man i dont really make original posts that much this felt weird #long post

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thewitchkingiscool-ace · 11 months

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Y’know, the ending of botfa was such a wonder to behold. BEAR WITH ME HERE OKAY, HEAR MY POINTS.

I’ll start by breaking down some of the scenes. So first, we have the scene were Fili is momentarily captured by Azog at the top of that old abandoned fortress-thing with all of Azog’s army behind him. Then good old Azzerz (thats my name for azog) does his speech about which order he’d kill everyone in his plan that went horribly wrong, f in chat for azog.

And then Fili does that badass backwards spinning-kick and knocks Azog to the floor, then he dodges all of the army like a pro and kills like 75% of them (we all know how it goes so there’s no point going through it. But fili was awesome in that moment so i just want some appreciation for him there)

And THEN we cut to Kili, Bolg and Tauriel. I love the dynamic between Kili and Tauriel in that moment as they work together to take out Bolg, jumping off rocks and attacking him from both sides and being fabulous as always. Especially that bit where Bolg grabs Kili then Tauriel walks up behind him and kicks him in the balls. What an amazing scene. Then they manage to chase him to Legolas and that sketchy bridge that looks like it would collapse at any minute and Legolas starts flexing his skills and spins and slashes and runs up the bridge as it collapses in slow motion and nearly falls then flips himself back up again and does that cool thing where he stabs Bolg in the head and bounces off his shoulders and the whole bridge sinks then collapses and Bolg dies from fall damage then just in case he wasnt dead, the piece of rubble falls on him. Then Tauriel and Kili finally kiss and see Legolas stood far in the distance and wave at him and he finally accepts that Tauriel friendzoned him but he’s totally chill with it and it’s so wholesome.

AND THEN WE HAVE THORIN VS AZOG!! AND THORIN COMPLETELY WRECKS HIM! So they fight on the ice and Thorin uses Azog’s weight against him. We all know how he picks up Azzer’s big old wrecking ball thing and throws it at him and Azog goes under the ice. Then Thorin starts following him which tbh could have been quite a risky move and could’ve got him killed, but he sees Azog’s eyes open and does a BACKFLIP to avoid Azzer’s sword and does a majestic hair-flip, then yells a dwarvish war-cry and starts attacking him. Then it goes a bit downhill as we all know and how as Thorin’s pinned against the floor, Bilbo comes running at Azog and knocks him off and Thorin’s like “omagawsh ma husband here to save me <33” then Azog is on the floor cus bilbo wrecked him, and Thorin does that thing where he waltzes up to him holding bilbo’s hand and stabs Azog in the back and its so cool tho

and then Thorin proposes to bilbo, they reunite with Fili & Kili and they all hug and they’re tearful and Dwalin shows up and gives them a big old bear hug and its the sweetest. And then the eagles show up and take them all away from the oncoming army.

then when bilbo’s going home, thorin basically does the same as sam and bilbo’s like “i’m going home alone.” Then thorin says “of course you are. And I’m coming with you!!” It’s such a nice nod to lotr and i cried my eyes out there. Then they kiss again and all the dwarves cheer and Kili’s there holding tauriel’s hand then BARD AND THRANDUIL SHOW UP and make up with thorin and the company then Bard and Thrandy kiss too and Thranduil proposes to Bard then Kili proposes to tauriel and thennnnn (sorry for the long post) they all have a joint wedding at the shire and all the hobbits are like 0.0 “wat” at the sight of all these dwarves and elves and men but they embrace it all confused like “those are gonna be some interesting kids lmao!!”

then you see thorin moving in with bilbo after giving the crown to Fili and i cried again when they adopted frodo and you see Fili as King under the Mountain with lots of children and you can see how he looks slightly older and Peter Jackson and the makeup crew did such a good job portraying all the horrors they SURVIVED and LIVED to tell the tale of. And then it cuts to Gandalf showing up like 50 years later and you can see thorin sat in the back in an armchair reading a book and i cried again. overall such a wholesome movie and my favourite out of all three. Love that movie to DEATH haha, death’s a funny thing to mention considering how little of it there was 😅

sorry again for the long post but i had to rant about that movie!

#the hobbit #botfa #Sorry for the long post #nobody died #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #barduil #They all got married #so wholesome and sweet #this is what happened #lotr #azzerz #legolas #tolkien

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much-obliged-timothy · 6 months

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Whumptober #18

Day 18 - Baldur's Gate 3 - Tortured For Information

Scratch’s barking echoed through the camp. Those who had claimed spots around the fire stirred reluctantly, lifting their heads and squinting tiredly at the dog as he ran towards them.

“Not now, boy,” Karlach groaned, pressing her head to the pillow.

“Tav, control your dog,” Astarion said, closing his eyes.

When Tav didn’t respond and the frantic barking continued, Astarion’s tired brain made a startling connection. He sat bolt upright, gaze shooting to Tav’s empty bedroll.

“Oh no,” he said miserably.

“Hm?” Karlach muttered.

“Tav’s gotten himself into trouble. Again. And it just had to be in the middle of the bloody night.”

Karlach got right up and kicked Gale, who had slept through the barking. “Up! Tav’s gone!”

Scratch reached them, whining and barking as he danced around them anxiously. He went right up to Astarion, lowering his head and whining.

Astarion knew Tav sometimes went out for walks just outside of camp when he couldn’t sleep at night. Scratch would occasionally follow along to keep him company.

“Was he taken?” Astarion asked.

Scratch barked, tail wagging. Karlach got up, dragging Astarion and Gale with her.

“We’ve got a friend to save,” she said, pulling them along.

“Don’t touch me,” Astarion said, shaking his arm free. “Scratch?”

Scratch barked and ran forward, looking back to make sure they were following him. They took a moment to grab their weapons and packs before following after him, knowing they didn’t have time to properly dress.

Scratch led them outside of the camp, into a set of trees. It was dark out, but the moon reflected off a stream flowing alongside the path enough to make the ground visible. Astarion smelled Tav’s blood before he saw it sprayed against the ground.

Scratch whined at it, pawing the ground and looking up to the others. Karlach knelt down before him, scratching behind his ears.

“We’ll find him, boy,” she promised. “Can you help?”

Scratch whined and sniffed at the ground. He practically pressed his nose to the dirt as he began to walk along, nose working overtime to find his friend.

“Which of our many enemies is it this time?” Astarion said, stretching.

“Don’t act like you’re not worried,” Karlach said, shooting him a look.

“I’m tired,” Astarion corrected, refusing to admit he was worried. Of course he was; Tav could be a bit naive but he wasn’t oblivious or weak. Taking him by surprise and dragging him away would take a skilled enemy to accomplish.

They fell silent, going on alert as Scratch led them further through the trees and away from camp. They probably should’ve woken the others up for reinforcement, but it was too late to worry about that now.

Scratch suddenly stopped, growling low in his throat, his whole body going tense. Astarion slipped past him and moved stealthily through the trees until a small camp came into view. He signaled at the others to stay back while he observed what they were up against.

The first thing he realized was that Tav was tightly bound to a chair, bruised and bloody. He’d clearly been beaten in the time it took them to find him.

The second thing he realized was that Tav was surrounded by five Gur. One, the apparent leader, towered over him, a knife in hand. She pressed it to his throat.

“Be a shame if the bard lost his voice,” she said, the flames from the small fire in their camp glinting off the blade.

“A loss to the world,” Tav said weakly, but didn’t flinch back as she pressed it just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

“Tell us where the monster is,” she snarled, grabbing his hand. “Or I will hear you scream once more and then take your voice from you forever.”

Tav dragged his gaze up, one of his eyes nearly swollen shut and coated with blood. He met her eyes with a hard look.

“I will never tell you where Astarion is,” he said simply. “Do your worst.”

She placed his hand on the chair and held her hand out. One of the others handed her a mallet, and Astarion felt rage pour through his as she slammed it down on his hand.

Tav clenched his teeth together, throwing his head back at the audible break of his hand. He squirmed in his bindings, but refused to give them the satisfaction of his screams of pain.

“You would suffer for that monster?” she demanded.

“I would suffer for that man, again and again,” Tav said, his voice strained with pain. “I will not tell you where he is.”

“Then you will die slowly in his place,” she said, taking the knife into her hand again.

Astarion had forgotten the others waiting for his signal. He had forgotten everything but the man below, enduring pain just to keep Astarion safe. Protecting Astarion, even knowing that Astarion had only pursued him originally for that very thing.

But it had grown beyond that. Tav was unlike anyone Astarion had ever met, and he proved it again even now without knowing it. He was loyal to a fault; it was going to get him killed.

But not today. Not right now. Astarion refused to watch Tav suffer another moment.

He brandished his daggers in hand, let his rage fill him, and slipped into the shadows to teach these bastards what true suffering was.

#whumptober 2023 #no18 #tortured for information #baldur's gate 3 #fic writing #dragon age 2 #astarion #bg3 tav #karlach #bg scratch #bg3 #astarion x tav #jtdoeswhumptober

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tokkishouse · 1 year

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We don't get snow where I live so I get to live vicariously through this fic

(Sfw) Playing in the snow with Venti

Characters: Venti x GN!Reader

Warnings: None, the reader is implied to be taller than Venti and strong enough to carry him

WC: 841 words

"C'mon Y/N! The snow's at the perfect thickness!"

You let out a sigh and take a moment to stop pulling the sled, instead glancing up at your lover, who's standing at the top of Starsnatch Cliff, flashing you a wide grin. The harsh winds and freezing temperatures had forced the bard to switch out his usual attire for something warmer. The hand-knitted scarf that you had wrapped around his neck was loosening a bit, letting you get a peak at his Rudolph-red nose and see his breath puff out with each exhale.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…”

You flash him a tired smile and keep tugging the sled uphill. When you manage to catch up to Venti, you take a moment to really appreciate his appearance.

The snowfall had decorated his hair, forming what almost looked like an ice veil down the strands. When he blinked, you could see the tiniest of snowflakes clinging to his lashes. The tips of his ears, just like his nose, were bright red and despite his divine powers, a shiver ran through his body.

"You're staring quite a bit, Windblume," Venti teases, knocking you out of your trance. "You can stare more later. I wanna go sledding!"

He bends down and pulls the sled up as much as possible, nearly toppling over as he reaches the steepest part of the cliff. You look back in the direction you came from, cringing at the way the environment melts into the snowy landscape the further you look.

"Are you sure this is safe? I can barely see past 20 meters," you ask, squinting to get better focus on the objects in the distance.

"Absolutely! You don't trust me?"

✦✧✦✧

Snow-covered hilichurls turn their head in surprise at the sounds of you two screaming as you speed down the cliff. Snow and ice are flung everywhere and you've long since lost your beanie due to the sheer speed of the sled that’s sending you two zooming down Starsnatch Cliff. Genuine fear for your life is plastered on your face, while Venti's screams are of excitement and joy, a smile that you swear can’t get any bigger glued to his.

You two hadn't managed to hit any obstacles, something you could probably thank Venti's anemo powers for, but that doesn't make the potential danger any less imminent.

"slowdownslowDownSlowDownSLOWDOWN!!!"

You plead, grabbing the ropes of the sled and tugging hard in an attempt to stop, or at least slow down. Instead, the action jerks both of you to the side and down another path. Venti nearly gets thrown off the sled before he can react, leaving him unable to stop you two from crashing into a giant rock. The impact forces you two off the sled and sends you flying through the air. You consider for a moment, getting your wind glider out to catch the air before you crash, but by the time you move to unfurl the wings, you're lodged halfway into a giant pile of snow. Venti is quick to follow suit, his legs kicking out frantically as his upper body gets lodged in a pile of snow and ice.

You eventually manage to free yourself from the snow pile, falling back on your boat. You shiver as the cold seeps into your bones, and you suddenly wish you had put on an extra layer of warm clothes. When Venti manages to get out of the snow pile as well, he falls on his back, letting out a shudder. He turns to you, his face red all over. You want to curse at him, scold him, or even just shoot him a glare-- but the earnest smile and the excitement melt away all your frustrations.

"Let's make snow angels next, Y/N!"

He doesn't wait for a response, immediately waving his arms and legs up and down to make the snow art. You turn to look back up at the sky, the overcast weather and gentle snowfall adding to the overall ambience of your environment.

"..yeah, let's."

You mimic Venti's actions, shivering as the snow melts under your warmer body and drips into your coat sleeves. The rest of your outing is spent filling the field with snowmen, snow angels, and other snow creations. When the sky finally darkens and the sunset peeks through the clouds, you're carrying an exhausted Venti on your back, beginning your journey back to a warm home.

✦✧✦✧

The next day, both of you woke up with a high fever and the chills. The consequences of playing all day in the snow and not stopping to warm up at all. Currently, you two were cuddling under a large comforter, with Venti laying on top of you with his limbs sprawled out. His hair tickled your chin as he lay there, dozing off. You look down at him, absentmindedly playing with his hair, and you can’t help your smile slowly growing.

Despite how stuffed up and generally gross you both felt, the extra time spent together in each others embrace made up for that fact.

Requests are open ✧˚~

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin impact fluff #venti fluff #venti x reader fluff #genshin impact venti #tokki writes #venti kinda scrungly #yall need to give barbatoes more respect

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pb-dot · 2 months

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Word Find Tag

@dyrewrites tagged me to particpate in one of these. I haven't done this in forever, but His Impossible Brushstrokes should be a good hunting ground, as it is mostly done.

The words I'm looking for is: tight, blur, trap and sweet

I tag @owlsandwich @caffeineaddict980 @bard-coded and @amandacanwrite

Who'll be looking for point, rich, stage, and strange

Words and snippets below the cut:

Tight

In the kitchen, a wide open space outfitted with the fanciest kitchenware money could buy, Tomasz was preparing something fragrant and, presumably, delicious. The smell of what I came to understand to be some sort of tomato-based sauce made the hunger I had apparently been hiding storm out in the open, but that was secondary in my mind to the sight of Tomasz working on the food. In the lack of a better word, he seemed to have reached a higher plane of awareness. His eyes were open and alert, but there was a focus on the task that made me wonder if he had even heard me come in. The gas fire flickered, the sauce puttered, some sort of meat sizzled on a pan, and a pot of what I assumed was pasta boiled with quiet intensity. There was a poetry to the whole scene I realized, but it was not inherent. This was all Tomasz, it was his will that shaped this beautiful moment, perhaps in the same way his will shaped the art that had grasped my mind tight when I was a young man and just never let go.

The burners of the gas stove clicked off, dispelling the mesmer like a hypnotist snapping his fingers. Tomasz started plating up, his concentration was still intense as he arranged pasta, meat, and sauce on two plates, finishing the presentation with a single leaf of some herb, I assume fresh basil. Once the food was ready, Tomasz himself appeared to come back to my plane of reality.

Blur

Charles coughs, at first once, then two or three more times, I can see there’s blood in his spittle. It’s at this point I’m becoming aware I haven’t blinked for what feels like minutes.

“So I just start trying to rip the thing apart with my teeth,” Charles sounds almost resigned. “It hurts almost right away, but I can’t stop, and I keep trying and trying and at one point a tooth shatters against the wood and I keep going until a couple more break and the sharp shards of the thing still attached to my roots starts scraping against the wood and I just don’t get anywhere. I think the security guys get to me before I pass out from the pain, but it’s all… a bit blurry I suppose.”

I nod, gravely. I want to throw up, but I have to keep up the facade. “I understand,” I say, it’s just about all I can manage. I take a minute to silently choke down the bile in my throat. “And did you succeed in damaging the painting?”

“A bit I guess,” Charles shrugged. “From what I could see, the worst of it was actually from when I snagged it off the hook, a bit near the lower right corner got ripped on the canvas. It didn’t really change much?”

Trap

I wasn’t afraid of elevators, I told myself. I had no reason to be afraid of elevators and I certainly wasn’t going to have a panic attack on account of my journey in the vertical aluminum coffin, even if I did feel a slight coating of sweat on my forehead from the experience.

There was also the question of what would await me at the top, of course. If I were to design a trap to ensnare myself, I probably would make something like this. A mysterious, un-googleable club or society dedicated to the thing I am most passionate about, plant the idea and an invitation with a known collaborator of mine, and then make sure it happened in the most isolated place you could conceivably lure me to. A penthouse law office at night would be a pretty good place for this sort of thing. There were some points I’d improve, perhaps getting Mara to actually urge me to go would have me arrive more at ease and thus easier to jump, or maybe psyching me out was part of the plan.

Sweet

Oscar, I know you’re probably excitedly kicking your legs in the air and scribbling Gildebrant’s name in your trapper keeper or whatever it is you do all day, but please listen to me when I say this. The next text promised yet another link in the chain, so I waited while Mara crafted whatever devastating missive she was going to deliver next. I know you’re excited to go meet Gildebrant, but please don’t go all doe-eyed on the guy. This isn’t really my speed normally, but if I’m honest, I have a bad feeling about this whole setup. I don’t know if there’s actually anything to this whole Gildebrant Psychosis thing, and I don’t know if the man himself has anything to do with the thing if it’s actually real… but please be safe. The world’s a stupid place, but it’s just a tiny bit better of a place with you in it.

This was an unexpected track from Mara. She wasn’t what I’d call emotionally open under anything resembling normal circumstances, and while these definitely weren’t normal circumstances, it still felt weird. I let the whole message hang between us for a little while before I replied. Aww Mars, that’s sweet of you to say.

Fuck you, MN boy. Why don’t you clean your ass with that disgusting potato liquor you love so much!

#writing #writeblr #his impossible brushstrokes #tag game

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avelera · 8 months

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I will say, even when romances in BG3 didn’t work out QUITE as intended in my two playthroughs (so far…) they both made… interesting stories??

(Cut for spoilers)

- First playthrough, total goodie two-shoes sage tiefling warlock/paladin. Just trying to figure out the game. Definitely don’t long rest enough (a bit of a must for some of the romances to kick on, because it’s where emotional story tends to progress). Accidentally lock myself out of the romances I did want, like Astarion and Karlach, so I settled for Gale as a distant third option.

- Tav 1 pines for Karlach from afar, but genuinely enjoys just being Astarion’s friend because this Tav is a bit too nice for him and I think it’s refreshing for him to have a true friend who doesn’t want him like that??

- Gale feelings, which were sort of just “might as well” at first as I learned the game, suddenly start blossoming as both my Tav and him are sage background and enjoy nerding out over books and knowledge?? Start to get genuinely excited to see him in camp? Kind of still pine after him when I’m in my other playthrough because he really is charming and funny and sweet as you get to know him?

- Like Gale is so much actual guys I know from the DnD world, personality-wise, he’s a nerd with a cat who got knocked down in life by some bad decisions he now sincerely regrets (but he’s not totally without ambition to make bad decisions again…). Of all the party members he feels like the dude I’d actually date IRL??

- So basically, dated Gale with Tav 1 as a joke, accidentally caught feelings, now actually these two good-guy sage nerds feel sort of perfect for each other?

Then my second play through, Lolth-sworn Drow Matriarch. Bard/Paladin. Noble background. A bit inscrutable. Not a monster or a mercenary. Will do good things most of the time and isn’t cartoonishly evil but it feels like she’s nice and more… like she’s keeping her options open outside the Underdark, where behaving like a typical Drow is a good way to get an an angry mob set on you. She prefers to talk her way out of things and keep potential allies in play. She doesn’t quite fit with the absurd levels of some Drow cruelty but she’s not doing it to be nice the way my Tav 1 playthrough is.

- Flirted a bit with Karlach but really go full Asterion. He’s just so… cute and pathetic to a drow’s eyes I think?

- Like he tries to tell her, a Lolth-sworn female Drow, a matriarch in training if she wasn’t one already, that she’s too nice. As if that itself wasn’t part of the calculus she performs every day to advance her goals. Like it’s all out of conscience and he’s the badass who has it all figured out. He says they should try to be evil together. When she asks how exactly he plans to do this, he draws a blank.

- in my mind, that was the moment she was like, “Oh no, he’s so stupid, I have to fuck make him my consort.” Poor baby wants so badly to be evil but doesn’t have any subtlety at all. He’d get pulverized in Menzoberranzan. I have to protect him from himself.

- Like my Drow Tav doesn’t want to fuck Astarion and make him her consort because he’s a cool sexy vampire. Quite the opposite. He’s like a small enthusiastic yappy lap dog, barking at the wolf who thinks he’s just the cutest and wants to take him home to the rest of the pack to show him off.

- Meanwhile, her flirtation with Karlach felt more like a “matriarch recognize matriarch” moment where she was impressed by this badass warrior woman who she’d happily make her general or bodyguard if they were in the Underdark. But that she basically needed to pull up a bit when she realized she couldn’t be what Karlach needed and likewise, Karlach wouldn’t fit into Drow Tav’s life if she ever got back to Menzoberranzan.

- (Meanwhile, Shadowheart just feels too young to both Tavs. Like I got genuinely choked up reuniting her with her family because she feels like barely more than a teenager who really needs her family still more than she needs a lover. At least Gale, Karlach, and Astarion, feel more like full adults. Sadly, Wyll just feels the most like a standard RPG character with his dialogue (and it was weird to hear him lamenting his horns to a tiefling??) which put me off. Even if the dance scene was sweet. Halsin… just isn’t working for me. Alas.)

#bg3

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inventors-fair · 10 months

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Chapter Two: This Week's Runners-up! ~

And our (very strong) runners-up this week are @batatafilosofal, @hanavesinauttija, and @spooky-bard!

@batatafilosofal — Alesha Defies Death (Alesha, Who Smiles at Death)

I think this card, despite being one of my favorites, suffers from being just a little too out there for the winner’s circle. Despite that, it’s a tight margin, and I genuinely wanted to make more space for winners this week. Alas, restrictions and creativity—restrictions like mana, which mean that this could be an RWW Jeskai splash in the Khans world, weirdly enough? What I really like is how you made that overlap okay with your mana necessities, and on top of that the way that you placed this card in the world is just plain cool. It’s the timeline’s story that was unbroken no matter where the clans went, a story that echoes.

That ultimate is a bit crazy, but no matter, I would’ve done two. The first ability, I believe, should be worded like Urza’s Saga: “Alesha Defies Death gains “Creatures you control have first strike.”” Bit wordy but you can adjust the text box sizes or whatever. Middle chapter is awesome still. So where does that lead us? I want to commend you first and foremost for really spinning a new idea onto an older story. Surprising and impressive all at once.

@hanavesinauttija — Isperia, Assassin’s Trophy (Assassin’s Trophy)

Not much to say that’s not already present, right? Phenomenal job making this card out to be the actual trophy part of the trophy; honestly the original spell seems slightly odder in its namesake compared to this card. It’s great to see it be a monument, almost. The reflection in the flavor text of that change is both welcome and natural. Vraska’s stony return is fascinating and speaks to the power of this moment’s presence. It lends an almost in medias res quality; we return to Ravnica again, and boom, there’s no Isperia. Here’s her trophy. What happened? We don’t get to see the assassination, and that’s all the more mysterious.

It’s also a great way to get rid of your lands, heh. Excess lands? Sac ‘em and weep. This card is great for getting death triggers as well as mitigating the damage from tokens. Your own tokens biting the dust is great, too! Drawing and gaining life is excessively powerful when done this repeatedly, but if you have a 10/10 trampler coming after you, it ain’t gonna do as much good. But it could be okay if you draw into something! Who are we kidding, though. Maybe you get burned out instead and nobody attacks, heck. That’s not gonna happen in limited, though, and this card is a weirdly interactive warning for all who dare want to come by and take what Vraska rightfully stoned up. I’d have to see this one in action, honestly. Perhaps the discouragement from attacking is a bit much.

@spooky-bard — Adversary’s Executor (Grand Crescendo)

Heck it. This card’s a personal favorite of mine this week. You got this guy that I’m totally not imagining as a handsome ogreish bouncer coming in and wrecking the party, and, uh... Lost my train of thought. This card’s still absolutely amazing, though, and I’m glad it’s a rare and a stunner of a bomb. It’s rare that you see a card with such a clear pre-combat vibe to it, a threat to end all threats. The citizens clear out, and now even the big boys are going to have to contend with the hustle of an ogre who’s been sold to the highest bidder, that being Mob Nixilis.

Having the treasures be tapped is probably the best option, so good call there, whoof. I wouldn’t call it a boardwipe but it makes the 4/3s that you’ve been amassing all the crazier. Menacing into some chump-blockers feels awesome for sure, and then the combination of Riveteer Treasures and Maestro kick-you-while-you’re-down-ing just ends up being awesome, too. I think this is a great other-side-of-the-page card for sure. It has nothing to do with the mechanics of its predecessor and everything to do with its presence. Admittedly, killing a bunch of 1/1s is relevant, but I mean in terms of the cards’ goals, that those are antithetical. One of them wants to be the life of the party, and this card? This card wants to clear the room, because it’s bashing and looting time. The show’s hardly over, but it’s sure as heck stopped.

Commentary to follow. Eventually. It's a long day today. —@abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #storytelling change contest #runners up #commentary #inventor's fair

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leighsartworks216 · 2 years

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I’m Not Fine

Jaskier x fem!reader (can be read as gender neutral)

Requested by Anon:

“Hi, Can I please request an imagine/one shot for Jaskier x female (or gender neutral) reader with the prompts “I think I love you.” + “But I want to hear you sing.” + “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” + "I really love holding you, darling." + “I’m not fine. I know I said I was, but I’m not.”.. Please and thank you!! 😘”

Angst 6. “I’m not fine. I know I said I was, but I’m not.”

Fluff 14. “But I want to hear you sing.”

Fluff 17. “I think I love you.”

Fluff 18. “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Fluff 34. “I really love holding you, darling.”

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ANON ITS HELLA FLUFFY AND CUTE

Warnings: hurt/comfort, monster attack, injury (not explicit), nightmares, fear of death (mostly implied)

Word Count: 1616

Masterlist

“How’re you feeling?” Jaskier moved around the room, putting his stuff where it wouldn’t get ruined. His lute, of course, had its own chair that it sat propped in, safe and secure.

You could see his eyes constantly being thrown over his shoulder as he got ready for bed, searching for yours. Sometimes, you could see them drift to your side, where blood was dried and brown on your shirt. Underneath the slashed fabric, bandages could just be seen peeking out.

You put your hand over the wound to hide it from his sight. “I’m fine, Jask,” you assured him. “Geralt said it would heal in a few days; you don’t have to keep worrying about me.”

The bard’s eyes lingered a bit longer on you, before he nodded and turned back to his pack. “Alright, fine.” There wasn’t any annoyance in his tone, and if there was, it was directed back at himself.

He’d been at your side, constantly tending to your every whim, even if you didn’t need any help at all. After that beast lunged at you- Gods. He thought you were done for. He could still see it jumping through the air, almost in slow motion, its claws slashing into your side and breaking open the skin. He truly thought you were gone when it landed over you, inches away from biting off your face. Jaskier truly could not thank Geralt enough for saving your life.

The night was quiet, but it all still felt too loud. The crickets were too loud, the coyotes howling in the distance were too loud, the creaking of wood, your own damn breaths. You wanted to rip your ears out. But it wasn’t the noises of the night that were bothering you, you knew that much.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw fur and teeth, blood and saliva. You’d been so close to death in that moment. You hadn’t even registered after Geralt slayed the monster that you were bleeding. You just laid there, staring past the canopy of leaves, into the sky. You could still remember how strange breathing felt. It was like you had to relearn how to inhale and exhale. And then the pain kicked in, and you forgot all over again.

A horrible, strained gasp rushed out of your lungs as you came back to the waking world. When and how you’d fallen asleep was a mystery, but one you couldn’t think to dwell on. All you could think of was those teeth. That mouth. Its maw was gaped wide, closing in on you, ready to tear you apart. Its eyes held nothing in them but hunger and death.

A firm hand landed on your shoulder, jostling you back to your room at the inn. You were sweating, shaking, panting. Jaskier was leaned over you, concern drawing his brow down. His blue eyes were practically glowing in the moonlight coming in from the window. You could almost see the beast in his place. But the beast would not look at you like this.

“Are you alright?” His eyes roamed over your damp, trembling form. It wasn’t salacious. It was almost like he was grounding himself into your situation. “No, right, of course not,” he muttered rapidly. “What did you dream of? What happened?”

Flashes of teeth came to the forefront of your mind and you shook your head, shaking the thoughts away and dismissing his questions. He helped you sit up, situating you against the headboard. As he moved around the room to grab a cup and fill it with water, your eyes followed him.

His clothes were creased and wrinkled. His hair was wild and untamed. In the dim light, you swore you saw shadows forming under his eyes, but you were sure it was a mere trick of the light.

You cleared your throat, fingers gripping the bed sheets to ground yourself. “I’m sorry for waking you up.” Your voice was wobbly and scratchy, and you were all too grateful for the cool water as it hit your throat.

Jaskier sat back down on the bed, but he seemed more concerned with making sure you were okay than busying himself with going back to sleep. “Darling, it’s okay. You have no need to apologize.” He shifted slightly, straightening his back, as though he was preparing himself for what he was about to say. “Besides, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

You almost scoffed off his lame excuse, but when you looked at his face, you knew he was serious. He was still looking at you with so much care, so much worry. And, not to mention, he’s not the best at lying.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” You watched as he opened his mouth, closed it again, and opened it once more. It happened a few more times, getting to the point where he had to look to his lute for emotional support. “Too busy thinking about new songs?” you lightly teased.

Jaskier huffed a laugh. “No, I wish…” He bit his tongue, his face pulling down into a frown again. “No, I was- I was.” He sighed, looking you straight in the eye again. “I was dreaming about you. Not, like, not in that way,” he quickly defended himself, hands gesturing to support his claim. “About yesterday. When that monster… I was so worried about you. And I keep thinking, what if Geralt hadn’t gotten there in time?”

Crickets chirped. Wood creaked. The silence felt thick and tense. It felt like a pressure was filling your chest. A burning stung the back of your eyes; the telltale sign of tears. “But he did.” Your voice sounded meek. Any louder, any stronger, and the entire world would shatter.

He scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” His fingers itched for his lute, for a distraction, for anything. Instead, they twisted and pulled at each other. “But what if he didn’t? What if it killed you, Y/N? What then?” He sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders as he calmed himself down slightly. “I don’t…” Jaskier met your eyes again, taking one of your hands in between both of his and holding it tight. “I don’t know what I would have done if it… if you left me.”

It was nothing short of a confession, but neither of you wished to admit it. Instead, you pulled his hands into your lap, placing your hand on top of his. He just watched, as though you were an angel come from above to give him sagely advice.

“I’m not fine.” It wasn’t what he was expecting. He squeezed your hand, urging you on to keep going. “I know I said I was, but I’m not.”

“Tell me what I can do to help.”

You wanted to hide away. You wanted to look away from his staggeringly blue eyes and pretend none of this ever happened. You wanted to feel embarrassed and ashamed. But he would not make fun of you, even if you asked him to run through the town naked. And he would do it.

“Hold me? While we sleep? It’s just…” You couldn’t even find a good excuse. You just knew that it would help.

He chuckled, and for a split second you thought it was a cruel laugh, poking fun at you for asking something so ridiculous. But the bard just kissed your forehead and laid back in the bed. He tugged you forward by your hands, guiding you into his chest. He only let go of you to pull the blankets back up around your shoulders, keeping you warmed from the chill of the room.

At first, you were stiff against him. Slowly but surely, however, you found your entire body pressed along Jaskier’s, legs tangled gently together and arms keeping each other close. If you needed to shift, he would let you. If he was uncomfortable, for once, he didn’t complain. Rather, he pressed a kissed to the top of your head and assured you, “I really love holding you, darling. Whenever you may need it, or simply want it, I am here, I promise.”

Drowsiness slipped into your mind, your body, your bones. Your cold feet would anxiously butt against Jaskiers, and he would tuck them under his legs to warm them up. You tried adjusting and readjusting your head on your pillow, trying to find an angle that warmed your nose, and he simply lured you into tucking your head under his chin, pressing your cold nose against his neck. His hands held your upper back, wandering no lower and pushing no boundaries. For once since the attack, you felt safe allowing your eyelids to flutter shut.

“Sing to me,” you murmured.

He almost didn’t pick it up, if you hadn’t been speaking so close to his ear. “I don’t really have any lullabies.” Most of his songs were ballads of heroic feats. He didn’t exactly spend a lot of time even thinking about making songs for putting children - or upset, tired adventurers - to sleep.

The sound you made was most closely described as a whine. “But I want to hear you sing.”

The bard chuckled, warm breath jostling your hair. “Alright.” He paused for a moment to think. Just when you were beginning to get restless, he cooed another Alright, and began to sing a song from his journal. It was rusty and unrefined, but you only seemed to melt more at the sound of his voice singing a song only you would hear.

Just as he thought you were asleep, your breathing even, your body fully relaxed, he heard the faintest, “I think I love you.” And for a moment he had to remember how to breathe.

#fanfic #fanfiction #jaskier #jaskier x reader #fem reader #x fem reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #x gn reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #the witcher #light angst

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darksunrising · 5 months

Text

Bard On Bard Violence (2/?)

Masterlist of the Echoes of Faerûn Series

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Rating / Warnings : Mature audiences.

Fandom, Pairing : Baldur's Gate III, Raphael x Tav (focus), Astarion x Tav (background)

Author’s notes : Little transition chapter that really should have been part of chapter one! Echo gets help from the one person he's sure wouldn't judge him from pursuing a Devil's help...

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Echo climbs down from the windmill still somewhat shaken, one-handed since he’s realised he doesn’t have any pockets in that outfit - which, in itself, is reason to be shaken. Fingers curled up tight against the now cooled little piece of metal, making his way through camp mechanically to go back to his tent. A familiar voice, insistent, manages to drag him out of his daze, and he turns to meet a carmine gaze, glimmering under a quizzical, perfectly arched brow.

“Darling, is something the matter?”, Astarion asks, seeming more curious than truly worried. “You look... Dreadful, really.” He’s never bothered to mince words, and it would have brought a smile to Echo’s lips, were he still not that flustered. The vampire’s hand finds his, only two fingers hooking into Echo’s, who completes the gesture. He’s come to enjoy this, having that bit of casual contact between them, unacknowledged, uninvasive.

“I... Had a very strange five minutes”, he says, trying to find some way to make it make sense.

Astarion tips his head to the side, just a little. “Is it because we reached the city?”, he asks, gently. “Are you still worried about running into-”

“No-”, he interrupts, shaking his head. “Gods, I wasn’t even thinking-” His free hand comes to his face, rubbing his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose to prevent a surely coming headache. Astarion waits, patiently, for him to elaborate. He doesn’t do that often, which is a testament to how absolutely rattled Echo has to look.

“Raphael came to see me”, he says, after a few steadying breaths.

“Just now?”

“Just now.”

“That nasty little Devil, didn’t even come down to say hello. I’m apalled.” It’s just a bit theatrical, enough to have the corners of Echo’s mouth curl into a tiny smile. “... What did he want?”

Echo sighs, and gives a little look around. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are chatting - or fighting again, he’s given up trying to differentiate the two. Halsin, Jaheira and Gale are going aroud the campfire, arguing about the receipe for whatever they’ll be eating tonight. Karlach’s having a very loud laughing fit over something Wyll said. “I’d rather this stayed private for now-” Astarion immediately pulls the kicked puppy look. “- from the others, Gods, let’s just find someplace private, yes?”

Astarion’s smile turns wry again, and he slips his hand into Echo’s properly, to lead him out of the camp. “Let’s.”

×××

Echo doesn’t lie, doesn’t hide anything from Astarion. It’s not in his nature, and he really does need his help, or at least, his opinion. He stays silent a moment, dreadfully uncharacteristic of him.

“I... Don’t think it’s a bad deal”, he finally says, looking back at Echo. “Obviously needs to be thoroughly negotiated, we aren’t going to be that sort of Devil clients, but... I think this could be quite advantageous.”

It’s not that this answer surprises him, though... “He might want to sleep with me, part of what he considers entertainment.”

“Well, I assume since you’re considering that deal, you’re not entirely repulsed by the idea”, Astarion retorts, teasing.

“That’s neither here nor there. I mean, I have eyes, but-” He sighs, hand squeezing Astarion’s lightly. “I’m not about to put us into jeopardy just for a few spells.”

He does notice a flicker of reassurance, pass through Astarion’s eyes. It’s not like they’ve ever had that deep of a conversation over their degree of exclusivity - or if that sort of payment in kind was to be considered cheating. It’s not been needed so far, but the question bears asking.

The elf gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind Echo’s horn. “Oh, darling, never worry about that- about us. You know me, and better yet, I know you. I trust you.” His free hand goes to Echo’s chin, and he plants a light kiss on his lips. He pauses a little, still relaxed with that gentle loving smile he’s started allowing him to see more often. That doesn’t last, and his expression turns a bit more wry, fingers trailing down Echo’s neck before he retracts his hand altogether. “However...” Astarion pauses, making Echo raise an eyebrow. The vampire grins in that specific way that means he’s found the means to raise some chaos.

“I was a magistrate. I could help you... Negotiate”, he says, like he’s savoring a delicacy. He looks so excited, it makes Echo huff out a little laugh.

“Do you think Raphael would enjoy me lawyering up?”

Astarion has a bright, slightly devious laugh, grabbing Echo’s waist to pull him flush against him. The tiefling giggles, throwing his arms over his lover’s shoulders. “Oh, he would definitely resent it. Hence, why we should absolutely do it.”

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Comments are super appreciated, and you can dm me if you want to be on the taglist if that’s still a thing people do!

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #astarion x tav #bard on bard violence #echoes of faerun

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emeto-secret-agent · 2 years

Text

Sicktember Day 5

'Great. Now I Have Your Germs All Over Me.’

Fandom: G.enshin I.mpact

Characters: Diluc and Venti

Illness: Common Cold

Warning: -

HC for what's in the Angel's Share's third floor, also this fic was me being horny about Diluven so sorry about that

’Venti. Venti wake up. Venti.’ Diluc was slowly losing his patience while trying to wake up that absolute bastard bard who managed to fall asleep in his tavern. Again. Seriously it was well past closing time and they were the only ones left in the whole building. If Diluc knew he was gonna have to deal with the bard, he would have never decided to help out at Angel’s Share tonight.

‘Venti!’ For the love of the archons, the bard hasn’t even drank that much. He really just passed out on the counter and decided it was fine for him to sleep there. Finally a bit aggressive, but effective nonetheless, shaking did its work and the bard suddenly woke up with a startle. ‘It’s closing time, you need to leave.’

‘Diluc, what…?’

The bard’s words were blurred together and for a few moments, the redheaded man wasn’t even sure Venti knew where he was.

‘You have to leave.’ repeated Diluc and with a small curiosity as he tried to catch the other’s glassy eyes. Venti was really out of it, but somehow he didn’t seem that drunk. ‘I’m closing the tavern.’

‘Oh, oh right… I’m going then…’

The bard was visibly shaking as he stood up and it was only thanks to Diluc’s quick reflexes that he managed to catch the bard before he facepalmed with the hard floor. The bartender’s eyes went wide when he realized the heat radiating from Venti, feeling his temperature clearly even under layers of clothing. Suddenly Venti hunched over with a coughing fit and at this point, Diluc was sure something was wrong with the bard. He got around the bar counter and helped the bard sit back on the seat who was looking back at him really confused. Diluc just told him to leave, why was he now holding him back?

‘Venti are you sick?’

It was a dumb question, everyone who took a closer look at the bard could’ve told he was clearly unwell. His cheeks and nose were bright red, which looked weird with his ghost pale face, from which sweat dripped down, coating his skin. Venti’s breathing was sallow, his eyes hazy and he was continuously shaking even in the warm tavern. But despite all this, the bard pouted and only shook his head.

‘Of-of course not! I’m not sick…’ his statement was quickly proven wrong as his body trembled with another coughing fit and the bard was desperately trying to take a breath while hiding his mouth behind his fist. The look of the sick Venti and hearing his clear lie, trying to hide his sickness snapped something in Diluc, some kind of worrying warmness filled his chest and before he even realized what he was doing, he held a palm to Venti’s forehead. This moment of affection shocked the bard so much that he even forgot to cough and was just sitting there and looking up at Diluc whose brows furrowed.

‘You’re running a high fever. Why didn’t tell me you were sick?’

His scolding had no reasoning but his hard look and furrowed brows turned Venti’s lips downward. He just felt so bad and so exhausted and he didn’t understand why he would own with an explanation about it to Diluc. The man hasn’t even really cared about him…

Diluc noticed the bard’s teary eyes and trembling lips so he quickly pulled the bard closer to him, some weird caretaking reflexes kicking in and rubbing a hand over Venti’s back to ease his coughing. Venti was just grabbing the other man’s shirt, too delirious to understand the meaning of all of this, so with a big sigh, he just accepted it.

‘You can’t go anywhere in these conditions thought.’ Diluc looked at the bard after a while who was clearly trying to not to fall asleep again. Venti was cold and the only thing his aching body wanted was just to sleep, maybe for a hundred years. ‘There’s a bedroom on the third floor, you can stay there. Alright?’

Venti nodded and silently stood up, immediately regretting his decision as his legs gave up underneath him and started his freefalling in the direction of the ground. He was, again, lucky that Diluc was near him and was able to catch him, his strong arms holding up the feverish bard.

‘I’ll help you.’

It wasn’t even a question, it was a straight statement as the redheaded man warped his hands around Venti and gently lifted him up from the ground. It was almost scary how he could feel the heat radiating from the bard as well that he was too weak to even walk. They needed to get his fever down soon, otherwise, they’ll have to go to the church for medical help. Diluc really wanted to avoid that situation so he hastily walked up the stairs, while Venti buried his face right into his shirt, only stopping when some weird noise left the bard’s lips.

‘What did you say?’

Venti opened his mouth again to say something but when his nose moved and he closed his eyes, realized Diluc that what was going to come out of the bard’s mouth was not words, but a huge sneeze. And of course, he was right. But since he was holding Venti, the man had no chance to move out of the danger zone and had to endure as the sneeze just landed right on his chest.

‘Great. Now I have your germs all over me.’

Sniff

‘Sorry, Diluc…’

‘It’s…alright.’

After they arrived on the third floor Diluc just kind of opened the door with his leg and placed Venti on the bed, who was really trying to not just curl up under the blankets and fall asleep at that same second.

‘I didn’t know you had a bed here. You never let me sleep here.’

‘Well of course not. It’s for the bartenders if they have to stay over for the night, customers can’t use it.’

‘But I’m in it.’

‘Because you’re sick. Now undress a little, I’m gonna bring some water for you.’

‘Alright…’

When Diluc arrived with the bowl full of cool water, a cloth and a jug of water Venti were already under the covers. In vain of him lying under two layers, the bard was still shaking, as the cold was eating him from the inside, and not even the hot fever was enough to warm him up. Diluc dipped the cloth into the water and twisted it out before placing it on Venti’s forehead. The cold cloth felt nice on the bard’s over boiling face and he leaned into the heavy feeling on his head with a sigh. Diluc pressed the back of his hand on the back of Venti’s neck to again feel his fever and to later make sure he was getting it down. The bard coughed as Diluc handed to him a glass of water and drank it all.

‘I’m going to wake you up a little later, you need to drink a lot of water with your fever, okay?’

‘Mhm…’

Venti was already half asleep, the wet towel doing miracles so he just nodded with his eyes closed. Diluc adjusted his blanket so that the bard was well covered under the covers and carefully patted his sweat soaked hair, before sitting down in a chair next to the bed. Guess, he can look after the bard for a while since he doesn’t have anything better to do.

#sicktember 2022 #g.enshin i.mpact #sick venti #common cold #snz scenario #snz fic #snz

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mothmanismyuncle · 2 years

Text

modern au. geraskier, established relationship. just a little comfort for the bard boy after a miserable day at work.

xoxoxo!!!

❦

geralt looked up from his book when he heard the door click shut and his husband peel off a soaked jacket. shoes were kicked; a bag was dropped; still, jaskier said nothing.

usually, geralt starts hearing his husband’s car radio from the moment it enters their neighbourhood. the quiet is alarming, to say the least, so geralt turns his book over and lays it on the couch, putting his reading glasses on his head.

“jaskier?” he calls trotting into the laundry room, where jaskier is shucking off his sodden work uniform.

“hello, love,” he replies huskily. “it’s raining.”

“it is,” geralt agrees. he turns the dryer back on, peering at the load of towels bouncing around. “why don’t you take a nice shower? warm you up,”

“‘kay,” jaskier acquiesced, slinking into the bathroom. geralt frowned after him.

typically, getting jaskier to shower right after work takes some cajoling, several bribes on both sides, all that.

today, the water turns on without any music to cover the sound, and geralt hears jaskier snuffle to himself before a small, broken sound escapes.

he won’t walk in on his husband crying. he won’t embarrass him when he waited until the shower was on and put on a face for geralt in the laundry room.

that’s what geralt chanted to himself, anyway, while he heaped blankets up on the bed and jogged back into the kitchen.

he took a small container out of the cabinet and double checked the instructions. only a bit of water and a minute in the microwave, and jaskier would have a sweet treat waiting for him in the nest geralt was building.

he gathered some water bottles, a sandwich, and jaskier’s favourite of geralt’s tee shirts that geralt thankfully had to save from the hamper. jaskier didn’t have geralt’s nose, but he could still scent his husband and it tended to calm him down plenty.

til his dying breath, geralt would deny that he rolled around on the nest blankets to make it warm and smell like him, but it was the quickest way and without music or the promise of geralt joining him, jaskier could be done in moments.

when geralt was satisfied that the clean blankets smelled a little more like home, he went to get a warm towel out of the dryer and swaddle his husband up for a trip to the nest.

he found jaskier sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees.

he couldnt say anything that didnt feel too trite, too simple, too shallow, for what that image made his heart do in his chest. he simply got undressed and sat down next to him.

“bad day,” jaskier breathed. geralt, with soft hands and a softer heart, took the spray from the wall and began to wash jaskier’s hair.

jaskier began to cry again, but this time quietly. jaskier hated it when he cried, hated how much he cried, so geralt merely began humming for him while he threaded his fingers through auburn locks to remove the soap.

“i’m an artist, aren’t i?” jaskier finally asked.

“of course,” geralt said, cupping jaskier’s cheek to get him to look him in the eye. “of course you are. one of the best i’ve ever known.”

“i… geralt, i’m working at a fast food joint. i’m getting sandwiches thrown at me by customers, i’m getting barked at by my boss. i haven’t composed in almost a week.”

“you don’t have to always be writing to be an artist,” geralt said, sitting back on his haunches. “am i a witcher?”

“of course,”

“right now? when i’m sitting in the shower with you?”

“… quit it,” jaskier replied, cottoning on to geralt’s meaning and pushing his little head into geralt’s chest.

“i’m a witcher when i wake, and when i go to sleep, and every second in between.”

“that’s different,” jaskier mumbled as best he could with the hot water pouring down the back of his neck. geralt only held him, rocking him back and forth ever so slightly.

“how?”

“being a witcher’s in your blood.”

“and your need to create isn’t?” geralt asked, looking down at his husband with faux surprise. “could have fooled me,”

“…… stop,” jaskier said, and geralt heard him fighting the smile.

“who told you to be an artist, then? was it roach?” jaskier’s shoulders shook a bit and he wormed closer to geralt. “come, love,”

geralt helped him stand and finish his shower, then gently towelled him off and wrapped him up tight, scooping him off his feet.

“you’d think i were a princess,” jaskier murmured sleepily, breath dancing along the column of geralt’s damp throat.

geralt only hummed, knowing the rumble in his chest would bring jaskier even closer to sleep.

“oh,” when geralt set jaskier on the bed and set to getting him into his sleep shirt, jaskier got a look at the nest.

a precious look of wonder captured his features and tears threatened to spill over once more.

“for me?” he asked, lip wobbling dangerously.

“i can… take back the princess cake?” geralt offered, as he was nearly about to hand the treat over.

“you made me a princess cake?” jaskier asked, voice breaking.

“you weren’t singing when you came home,” geralt supplied, still holding the microwave cake. “do you…?”

“yes, please,” jaskier sobbed, making grabby hands at both geralt and the cake. “i’m just overwhelmed-crying, not sad crying,” he said, curling into geralt’s side and allowing himself to be rocked. “oh, i’m ridiculous. my boss got waspish with me because i wasn’t fast enough during lunch rush. he wasn’t even mean! just… snappy.”

“i think you’re just exhausted, love,” geralt offered.

“i slept fine last night,” jaskier said with a mouth full of cake.

“no, not tired. exhausted. you spend all day worrying about burgers and fries, then you spend all evening being upset that you didnt spend all day composing.”

“you’re right,” jaskier said with a frown.

“maybe… maybe you should quit.” geralt said, peering down at jaskier cautiously. “i could stand a few more contracts a week.”

“geralt,” jaskier gasped. “no, we— you— i shouldn’t get to laze around all day while you risk life and limb—“

“look at me,” geralt tipped jaskier’s chin up and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. “if you quit today and sleep for a week, but never, ever come home feeling like you did today ever again… i’d rather fight a wyvern every day.”

“no,” jaskier said, squirming under the intensity of geralt’s veracity.

“every day before lunch, even,” geralt added, trying to add a little levity. “jas, if you’re this miserable, i’ll do anything to make it better for you.”

“what if i call out tomorrow? we could sleep in.”

“i’d even make lambert call out for you.”

“lambert? what would he even say?”

“what does lambert ever say?”

together, laughing, they said, “fuck you, suck my dick!” and flipped each other off.

jaskier sniffed a little once the giggles died down and offered geralt a scoop of his princess cake.

“darling, i love you very much,” geralt said patiently with his mouth full, not willing to swallow the cake. “but this tastes like sawdust.”

“how do you know what sawdust tastes like, huh?” jaskier squawked, swatting at him.

“now that we have all night, let’s make a real cake, hm?”

“alright,” jaskier said, settling the cup on the night stand and pausing to look over his shoulder at his husband. “but we shouldnt let this lovely nest go to waste,”

“oh?” geralt hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“like you said,” jaskier smirked. “we have all night,”

❦

#geraskier #fluff and comfort #i had. an abominable day at work and *i* want a princess cake 🥺

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queenxxxsupreme · 2 years

Note

Congratulations on your milestone! Could I request an oneshot where it’s the moment where Jaskier holds baby Charlotte for the first time when she’s born, and he goes all soft, please? Thanks so much!! 😘

A/N: I have this whole story behind Charlotte’s name which if I ever get around to it would tie into an OC x Eskel fic that has to do with a sister of Jaskier’s and this whole dad!Jaskier AU kind of dabbles into it…. But I just have to kick my own ass into gear lmao.... also this is another one of the asks that was sent in over a year ago.... yikes I'm the worst lmao

Warnings: a bit angsty but fluffy, nothing outside of canon

You hummed quietly as you moved around the kitchen, making sure to be nearly as silent as possible. One week old Charlotte was just in the other room taking a nap. You had struggled to get her to sleep but now that she was finally asleep, you could clean up where it was needed.

As you were passing a window, you glanced outside out of habit. Your eyes caught sight of two horses coming down the path. One was Roach carrying Geralt and the other was Piper carrying Jaskier.

You hurried to go outside and meet your husband, but made sure to quietly close the front door behind yourself.

Jaskier jumped down from Piper’s back before she even came to a stop. He was so eager and excited to get to you, to make it to you before the baby arrived.

But as he started to approach you, he realized your stomach wasn’t as prominent as it had been two weeks ago when he left with Geralt for a contract.

The bard came to a slow stop, brows drawing together with concern. His lips parted as his breath caught in his throat.

“The-The baby.” He couldn’t even form a complete sentence.

“It’s alright, my love.” You assured him, placing your hands on his arms. “She’s inside.”

His features immediately softened. His hands came up to your biceps.

“She?”

“Mhm.” Tears sprung from seemingly nowhere as you nodded your head.

Without missing a beat, Jaskier pulled you in for a hug. His arms wrapped around you so tightly, hands pressing against your back.

“When?”

“Six days ago just before sunrise.”

His shoulders trembled as he cried into the crook of your neck.

The both of you had been told by your midwife that the baby wouldn’t be born for three more weeks, so you encouraged Jaskier to go with Geralt on one final trip before fatherhood prevented him from traveling for a while.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Nonsense.” You brought your hand up to brush your fingers through his thick dark hair. “We are both safe. I only wish you would have been here to witness her birth.”

He pulled away to look at you. His cheeks were stained red and tears dampened his skin. You reached up to brush the tears away, smiling softly.

“Would you like to see her?”

“Of course.”

Jaskier started to go towards the house, his hand firmly holding yours. You hesitated. Your eyes found Geralt.

“Come on, Geralt. You must see your niece.”

“I will be in momentarily.” The White Wolf told you, a soft smile playing on his face. “I’ll put the horses up.”

***

Jaskier squeezed your hand intermittently as you led him down the hallway towards your bedroom.

“She just laid down for a nap not too long ago.” You warned him.

He let your hand go and began to go to the crib by himself. You remained near the door, watching your husband with teary eyes. You had cried multiple times since her birth thinking about what this moment would be like, and now it was finally here.

Jaskier took his lute off and gently placed it on the floor against her crib.

“Oh my gods.” He whispered.

Inside the crib was what looked like a wrapped up loaf of bread. But the little face poking out from the off white cloth made his heart melt.

Without hesitation, Jaskier picked her up.

“She barely weighs anything!” He whispered, blue eyes very briefly finding you. He returned his gaze to Charlotte as he cradled her in his arms.

“Right now, she has your eyes.” You moved to stand next to him, leaning your chin on his shoulder. “Hopefully it stays that way. You have beautiful eyes.”

“She’s got your nose.” He chuckled softly, then sniffled. “What-What have you been calling her?”

“We agreed on Charlotte. After your sister.”

Jaskier brought his gaze back to you.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“We agreed on it.” You cupped his cheek and used the pad of your thumb to gently brush the tears away.

“No, thank you for this. For-For giving me a daughter.” He turned his head to kiss your palm. “It’s more than I ever could’ve asked for.”

“My love, I’d give you the moon and stars if I could.”

Jaskier leaned his head down to rest his forehead against yours.

You both stayed like that for a few moments, eyes closed and taking in one anothers warm breath. It was comforting to just be there with your husband and now with your daughter too.

“Geralt is going to love her.” Jaskier pulled back, a bright and proud smile on his face.

“Let’s go introduce him.”

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dujour13 · 1 year

Text

Thanks to the OTP asks I thought it would be fun to go back and write the fateful meeting in the basement of the Defender's Heart instead of just having it as a flashback. Too iconic a moment to gloss over. Best pickup line in the game and he wasn't even romanceable.

The Lark and the Crow on AO3

“Hey Delvan.”

The guard didn’t even look up.

“Hey Delvan, it’s awful damp down here. We’re both gonna catch our death. Whaddya say you chain me up upstairs instead? Save us both gettin’ the chills. I mean, you’ll have to take the chains off my feet so’s I can walk up the stairs, but after that I’ll sit still and let you put ‘em back on me, honest.”

“Shut up, Woljif.”

The tiefling sat quietly for a few moments, his tail swiping back and forth on the mildewy floor of the tavern basement. He sniffled pointedly a couple of times.

“Ooh, I’m startin’ to feel a little light-headed,” he wheedled, crawling into the lamplight. “I’m shiverin’, got hot and cold sweats. Itchy palms. I think I got a fever.”

“Shut up, you damn guttertief!” The guard finally looked his way, but only to shoot daggers. “Can’t you see I’m trying to read?”

“Whatcha readin’?” Woljif asked, scooting as far as the chains would allow. “Got any raunchy bits? Why don’t you read it aloud?”

“Ah Holy Inheritor and the Host of Heaven will you give a man some peace?”

Woljif sat back and sighed. A tiefling just couldn’t get a break in this city. Maybe he wasn’t coming down with fever, but he really was shivering, and his joints ached from trying to sleep on the cold stone floor, and the cuffs on his wrists and ankles were biting into his skin something ferocious. The worst thing, really, was knowing that the light and warmth coming from the stairwell were being denied him, not because of anything he did (honestly, what was breaking into some rich gnome’s shop, other than redistributing wealth to the poor—namely himself?), but because of the accident of his birth, the pair of demonic horns spiraling from his temples.

His yellow eyes darted to Delvan. Them righteous Crusaders, holdin’ it over everybody, when they’re just as petty as the lowest Thiefling, and I got it on authority.

A malicious smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

He coiled, and then with a sudden mental push he leapt forward, chains jangling, and a sinister blue flame shot up around him as a looming shadow sprang forth, reaching its talons towards the guard.

“Surrender thy soul, Delvan!” he roared in his very biggest demon voice.

It was perfect. The guard half-jumped out of his chair, fumbling his book and nearly toppling over backwards. The look on his face was absolutely worth what followed.

He lunged at Woljif, who scrambled back into his dark corner, the grin on his face rapidly fading.

“One more time and I’m gonna kick your teeth in, all the gods damn you!” Delvan yelled.

Woljif flinched. Delvan hadn’t hit him yet, but this wasn’t the first time in his life he’d found himself staring up into a fist.

“Come on, where’s your sense a’ humor?”

Delvan backed down, shaking his head and muttering as he collected his book.

Woljif crouched in the shadows in silence for a while, beginning to lose hope. His wistful gaze went to the cheerful glow at the top of stairwell again, and then, tantalizingly, as if to remind him of his sorry lot, someone up there started singing.

With a simple lute for accompaniment, the singer had a good, rich voice with rough edges that resonated in your breastbone in a way that made you feel funny. Woljif couldn’t make out the words, but the melody was sweet and a little bit sad, swelling with hope, then flowing into bitter regret in each chorus. It was the sound of a distant world Woljif had only ever dreamed of. One day, when he finally came into his fortune, he would hire a bard like this guy, and he would sit on his throne in his palace and just listen. And eat snacks. He became aware his eyes were watering and turned his face away from Delvan. It’s just damp down here, he told himself.

When the song ended he waited, but apparently that was all. “Hey Delvan, is that a new bard up there?”

Delvan marked his place in his book with a finger. “Yeah, it’s this Andoren fellow.”

“Oh, from the Ambassador’s caravan that got attacked? I heard about that. Heard he was the only survivor. How’s that for luck? They send folks to go clean up by now, or is all their stuff still lying around out there on the road? Be a shame if—”

“Woljif, will you shut up.”

A little while later another guard came down the stairs.

“Where in the nine hells have you been?” Delvan cried. “I’ve been down here with this gods-damned spawn of the Abyss for what feels like weeks. I’m at the end of my rope.”

The other guard just shrugged as he pulled up a chair and reached for a deck of cards. “Got caught up in the strategizing. Captain’s planning an attack on the Gray Garrison, try and stop the demons pissing all over the Wardstone.”

“Aha! A little offense is the best defense, I always say,” said Delvan. “State of my nerves, I’ll lead the charge if I get a chance to smash a few horned heads.”

“Yeah, well, a frontal siege with little more than the Eagle Watch and a few stray Crusaders is more likely to get smashed than do the smashing. And we don’t have time to wait for the Queen’s troops from Nerosyan. So you just go right up there and volunteer for the front lines, ‘cause nobody else is real keen.”

“Hey, uh, sounds to me like you Crusaders could use a secret way past the Gray Garrison’s defenses,” interjected Woljif, eagerly moving into the lamplight again.

The two guards spared him nothing but an annoyed glance.

“We’ve got a fighting chance,” Delvan said. “With Irabeth and that—”

“I know a way into the Gray Garrison,” said Woljif.

“—Andoren and his band, we can give ‘em a run for their money, I’ll wager. I don’t see as we have any choice. You know what they were—”

“Hello? The solution to all your troubles is standin’ right here!”

“—saying yesterday? That the demons found a way to corrupt the Wardstones, make ‘em all explode, blow holes in every major city in Men—”

“Don’t make me summon my shadow again,” Woljif warned.

Both of the guards turned on him. “Gods, will you quit running your mouth?”

“It’s true! I know a secret way into the Gray Garrison. Smuggler’s passage. Crusaders gotta live, right? Moonshine, love potions, books with naughty pictures. We’ve been runnin’ stuff through there for years. I can get you in.”

The two guards looked at one another. “So where is it?”

“Well, that’s confidential. Can’t go spillin’ Thiefling secrets right and left or I could end up floatin’ down the Sellen. Tell you what: you unchain me, and I’ll take you right to it.”

Delvan shook his head. “Yeah, right. Another one of your schemes. Shut up, Woljif.”

“Fine! Get your arses bashed in. See if I care. Bunch a’ blowhards. Less sense than a kobold with a concussion.”

“Maybe we should tell Irabeth,” said the other guard.

“Yeah, you do that! Go tell her Woljif can save all your sorry arses, and all I ask in exchange is a little freedom. Is that too much?”

Delvan sighed. “Irabeth is a very busy, and very scary, woman. I wouldn’t waste her time.”

The other guard scratched his head. “You sure he’s lying?”

Delvan looked at Woljif and ran his hand over his brow. “Every other word out of his constantly flapping mouth.”

“Now that ain’t fair,” Woljif protested. “I been straight with you. Most of the time. The thing about the puppy—ok, that was a little fib. Just testin’ the waters.”

“And the chest of gold hidden where only you could find it? Split it fifty-fifty?”

“You’ll never know.”

“And the fever? Feeling chipper all of a sudden?”

Woljif coughed.

The other guard looked skeptical now too.

“Aright, listen, I’m not lyin’ this time, I swear on my old Gran’s dear, sweet head. Anyway if Irabeth is sore at somebody for wastin’ her time, it’ll be me. Just go get her.”

Delvan nudged his companion. “Go on. It was your idea. You tell her.” Then he turned to Woljif with a malevolent grin. “Looks like either way, I win. If you’re not lying, we get a secret passage into the Gray Garrison, and if you are, I get to sit back and enjoy the show when Irabeth realizes you’ve played her.”

“You are a sad, sorry little man, Delvan.” Woljif tried to fold his arms across his chest in triumph, forgetting they were chained.

The other guard shrugged and headed up the stairs.

It took some time. Delvan went back to his book, and Woljif shrank back into the shadows, his heart racing. Finally, escape! Fresh air in my lungs and cobbles under my boots, he thought. And a quick trip back to the shop, and then his foot would be on the road to fortune.

Except that Kenabres was burning. Didn’t seem real safe out there at the moment. Well, one thing at a time, he told himself.

A few minutes later, there were voices on the stairs. Woljif leaned forward to get a look. There was the guard, but he was not bringing Irabeth after all. Instead, Woljif realized, it was the bard.

He was a handsome, tawny-headed half-elf, not very tall for his race, dressed in warm colors (lots of different warm colors, from a soft blue tunic and a wine-colored jerkin to a pair of forest-green trousers and a doe-brown cloak), laughing about something with the guard as they came down the stairs. He had a kind, friendly look to him. Probably a lot easier to run circles around than Irabeth.

Woljif looked him up and down, ignoring the strange sensation the bard’s voice produced in his stomach. If he played it right, this guy was his ticket to freedom.

“Hey dreamboat.”

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #woljif jefto #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #messed around with canon a little bit

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