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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 1 month

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A bouquet of feelings

Aether is doing his weekly commissions, how curious that all of them require flowers. Still too unaware of how it could be misunderstood he does through his day.

Wc: 1.7K

+ a mini drawing

Checking the tasks on the board Aether gasps pleasantly surprised “ oh! If we do these requests we can be free by 6 pm!”

“And you can go on your date~~ we already know” paimon floats around his head, swimming in annoyance at how repetitive aether has been the last week. ‘I'm finally going on a date with YN’ yeah, because they asked, you coward; ‘I made sure to reserve a nice table at good hunter’, there are only three tables, there aren't many to choose from. Even then she can find his boyish smile and unexpected pep on his step cute, the traveler's first love~.

“Oh? What do we have to do? Don't even think about making paimon make another sausage or beacon, or Paimon is going on a strike!” just thinking about mixing for hours the meat with salt and spices and pipping it in the casing manually already made her small hands hurt.

“no, no, we just have to deliver some flowers, see” he points to the first three requests, one asking for 3 mist flower to try on a new wine, 10 sweet flowers for Helen and 5 cecilias for Albert”

“ That seems easy enough! Do we have enough in the backpack?” she drapes herself on his shoulder to peep inside, soon after she holds the bundles of flowers that when held together they look like a bouquet, the brightest blue drowned on white petals of the cecilias and a few dashes of yellow from the sweet flowers “yep! Let's go!”

Aether soon snatches the bouquets and goes on his way.

Request 1: Helen needs sweet flower x10 for a tea for her sore throat.

Dashing past Flora's shop aether is able to see Helen on her balcony, reading a music sheet for her next song

“Miss bard, we got the sweet flowers!” Paimon yelps underneath, catching her attention.

“ Ah! Thanks traveler, can you pass them to me?” Helen leans forward and downwards to grab them but isn't even close to where Aether is, even when he tiptoes.

Getting the sudden idea, he jumps as he steps on the wall, just high enough to where he could grab one of the columns of her railing and pull himself up, now Helen could grab her flowers, with her hoarse voice she smiles and tosses a pouch with mora “thanks traveler, here is your reward’

Paimon thinks sweetly, already tasting the roasted pork or the sweet Madam ‘one request done, two left~ ♪’

But that wasn't what just happened in Flora's and Donna's eyes

“ Did you see that? He just hung from the railing to give her a bouquet, like a forbidden lover” Donna chats with Flora, who is as interested as her.

“ And then she whispered something to him before giving him something, could it be that they are dating?”

Request 2: Albert needs cecilia x5 for a gift

As usual Albert was waiting on one of the sides of the church, nervously pulling his sleeves and his lips moving without saying a word, rehearsing a speech.

“Hey! Albert!” From the top of the stairs he calls out for him, swinging the white bouquet trying to get his attention. Soon after his arm and himself are being yanked to a corner away from the nuns, who already noticed the two men but didn't comment on it more than a few curious gazes.

The blond fanboy snatches the beautiful bouquet “Keep it down! Everyone can see you” he whispers at him, poking his head to see if the nuns were watching.

“I don't think they are going to tell Barbara… at worst they may get the knights involved” Paimon's squeaky voice teases.

“Hum! Not everything I do is because of Barbara, you know?”

“Oh, my bad”

“Either way you think she would like them?” his cheeks catch a bit of color and Paimon can't help but sighs at him

“Ugh… yeah, sure, they are pretty but doesn't she like philanemo mushrooms?”

“Those ugly things?! How could you- wait it could make sense! She managed to find beauty in such an ugly thing~ typical of our Barbara" he grabs the bouquet, thinking of adding a few of those ugly mushrooms between the delicate and beautiful flowers "If she likes them I should give that to her, then. But where do they grow?”

“You better get another reward ready if you expect us to also give you philanemo mushrooms too!” paimon yaps over aether's shoulder as he scratches his neck and he looks inside the backpack.

“ No, we gave our last to Mona”

“Oh… My confession…”

“ Well! Then we can escort him to the dawn winery and pick up some fresh ones! And we also get paid for it too!”

“ The next request is at the winery either way so it wouldn't be too far off”

After thinking it for a second Albert nods and walks alongside aether to dawn winery, each holding a different bouquet, Albert the cecilia one meant for Barbara and aether holding a bundle of mist flower for the next request.

°•°

The sweet Madam stands on the table half eaten, both legs and breasts cut off and one thigh on the chicken and another on aether's plate. E

“ So, uhm” you attempt to ask him about the bouquets or his date with Albert or if he has a hidden relationship with Helen or why he accepted this date or even maybe if there was a bouquet for you. But now seeing him perk up at your voice like a bunny didn't really cause the same cuteness aggression as usual. “ Nothing. Don't mind me. Actually I'm not feeling too good, I think I'm going to pay and leave” a hand falls over your stomach, as if you wanted him to buy the story.

Soon after you pay and start walking to your house, sighing in defeat he goes to pay his part Sara passive aggressively teases him.

“having more than one boyfriend or girlfriend is hard, huh?” Her smile thin and stiff as she counts the mora “don't feel too bad, most people your age hardly have one lover, three would be too much”

“ Three lovers?” Aether asks, confused if anything he only wanted one! You!

“ Oh, c'mon, with how forward you were this morning, all of Mondstadt already knows.” She writes down the sweet madam you two shared and the payment “Who would have thought Albert would let Barbara go and get a proper lover, good for him. I was getting worried he wouldn't grow out of idol crushes and live alone”

“ But I'm not dating anyone…”

She looks up, equally confused “ but the bouquets you were giving to people this morning?”

“ Those were requests”

She stops for a second, a little O forming between her lips, as she looks at him her only advice was ‘Then I would hurry to clean that misunderstanding up, boy’

His pink and plush lip is now trapped between his teeth, something that Paimon only ever saw when they were exploring the chasm and a boulder suddenly blocked the entrance, forcing him to find a way out. The whole 4 hours that took his bottom lip was firmly between his teeth and soon after split in half and showing an ugly scab for a few months.

Quickly turning around and sprinting outside the town, Paimon flops around like a fish fresh out of water as he holds her hand.

“Slow down! what is all that hurry for?!”

Halting cold on his tracks he turns around and holds Paimon's shoulders, his eyes blown wide.

“I have only wanted two things since I came here. To find my sister and for YN to give me an honest chance. The first one doesn't seem close yet, and I might be about to ruin the second one so help me make the best bouquet possible” His caramel eyes showed such a determination that could only be overshadowed by the warm glow of a pyro vision.

“Alright?”

°•°

Some things have to be exact and round, is what you love to think. The quantity of pillars around the Knight's headquarters should be even, or at the very least the first flower bed whenever you enter mondstadt, it should be lined with the flow of the street and not off by a visible enough amount.

Event then there are concessions you are willing to make, flower beds can have an uneven number of each pair, and fruit weight doesn't have to be on the dot (as much as it hurts to see the 2.7 grams away from the perfect 100grs) and now it's perfectly reasonable to roughly estimate the hour. It's four am you guess, maybe in another situation you would have noted the time exactly to the minute but hearing the panicked banging on your door that is an estimation you are willing to make.

“Who is there?”

“Aether. Can we speak?”

Sighing but still giving in you start the planned explanation “Look, I didn't know you were already dating, it was too embarrassingly to admit-”

“ No, wait, just have this and then you can reject me after” he pushes a big bouquet against your chest, a soft scent emanating out of it, both sweet and floral, and a refreshing feeling to the touch of the freshly cut mist flowers.

Seeing you stunted enough to not speak immediately he starts rambling “ I know it looked weird, and I fully understand if you don't believe me or what I'm saying now, but I assure you those weren't flowers like because of love, UHM this is but not the ones I gave-”

A light shushing slips from your lips stopping him in his tracks and you touch his shoulder “I see I misjudged your actions. It's pretty late to let you. Why don't you let me prepare some coffee for you and your company and pick up from where we left?” Aether can't nod fast enough as he is slowly coerced inside to your sofa, his stomach bubbling with a mixture of nerves and puppy crush.

#genshin impact #gi #aether x reader #aether #genshin x reader #genshin aether #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #draw fic

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 year

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Lavender Haze

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

An imagine loosely based on the song Lavender Haze of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist

themes: incest (uncle/niece - aged 18+), soft smut, fluff, Aemond as a lover (which, in one word, is perfect)

written for anon request: reader is the youngest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon. Aemond and she have a secret affair. Aemond goes to her room one night and sees her while she is taking a bath.

word count: 1.1k

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If anyone were to ask Aemond what his favourite scent is, he probably would not be able to give a direct response. How could he, without going into detail about you?

A detail, such as, the distinct contrasting lushness and subtlety of lavender on your skin.

A welcome assault to his senses when he licks a stripe on your neck, during the nights you spend wrapped around each other.

Or, a tantalizing urge to abandon secrecy when you sit next to him during supper, when you lean closer, you little minx, and he breathes you in.

Either, or. Aemond loves it, wishes to bathe himself in it, wishes to rub his skin on yours until he can walk away smelling of you.

His sweet, little lavender-scented niece, he once teased. Only his. It matters not that he cannot flaunt you to the world, as much as he aches to pull you close and kiss you everywhere. Impropriety be damned.

But this sense of danger, of tasting the forbidden fruit, also drove him wild.

How it all started, you merely confronted your uncle Aemond, demanding that he cease his taunting of your brother Lucerys.

"I did not think that you lost your astuteness along with your eye. That was an accident, from much too long ago, and Luke has only tried to make amends. You must not give him any more grief or call him names. This hostility is unnecessary, uncle."

"Are you ordering me to do so, little niece?" His velvety voice raised goosebumps along your arm, your body unable to hide your attraction to him.

"If need be, then yes, I order you." You try not to croak, as he saunters over to you, his gait so fluid as if he was walking on air.

He stands ever so close, tracing his fingertip along your jawline, "Hmm, very well. But I shall have something in return."

You swallow, wishing him to finally say the words.

He did. And so it began.

It used to be one chosen night, once in a blue moon, which grew into two, three. You have learned to welcome his visits more often, awaiting him when the castle slumbers. When your daylight hours of longing stares, hidden caresses, and lewd whispers all culminate in the hour of the owl.

Aemond finds himself smiling as he walks to your chambers. He can't help it; he's enamoured with you. You might not be completely aware of the hold you have on him, but it is undeniable. You can bring that boy to heel with a single snap of your fingers.

The two of you made an arrangement with Ser Erryk to redirect the guards posted at your door when necessary. Aemond has no trouble reaching it. He takes a deep breath, then pushes your door open. It barely makes any sound.

Slowly, and then all at once, his senses are assaulted by that scent. Lavender, and long-lost innocence, and perfection. The one he should not have, should not touch, but still does.

Aemond's heart is yours.

He assumes that you did not hear him enter, but you did. Your ears have learned to detect his foxlike movements. Most would not know that Aemond has appeared until their eyes finally drink him in, your silver-haired prince moving light as a breeze. And their eyes usually linger. After all, Aemond looks as if he was shaped out of a bard's sweetest song.

You sit in a large porcelain tub, having drawn up a bath. The once warm water has turned tepid, but you stay, enjoying the scent of lavender from your bath tablet, which transformed the water into a shade of violet not unlike your Targaryen eyes.

The boudoir is in the right corner of your chambers, partially covered by a translucent screen. He sees your silhouette reflected by the warm candlelight, and he stands there, taking it all in.

His steps are light as he approaches, hands gently furled at his sides aching to reach your skin. He materializes in your vision, his violet eye shamelessly running over you.

“Uncle,” you greet in a singsong voice, smirking, “what brings you here at such a late hour?”

“Hmm,” he purrs, his pupil dilating, desire blossoming. He runs his tongue over his lips, and bites his lip. “Do you normally take baths this late, dear niece?”

“Perhaps,” you run your fingertips across your collarbones, drawing his attention. Your figure disappears in a pool of violet foam, but he can distinguish your nipples peeking from the surface.

“Might this simply be a show for me?” he moves even closer, and with one smooth movement, he peels his eyepatch from his head, setting it down atop your carelessly discarded clothing on the seat.

“Oh, you know me so well,” you tilt your head, and he ponders how you can make such a small movement seem so damn provocative. So beautiful.

You sit upright, revealing more of your body to him. You reach a hand out, and he brings it to his lips, keeping his eyes on yours.

“I have something for you, uncle,” you gently pull his hand, slowly, and the two of you watch it disappear under the violet-tinged water. His sleeves become soaked through, but he pays it no mind. There is only you. His darling niece. His lover. His very own silver-haired lavender haze.

“Have I ever told you just how heavenly you are?” he muses, as he moves his arm, knowingly searching the depths for the sweet sensation of your skin. Of your warmth. His fingers reach your nub, pressing gently, driving you mad.

“Aemond,” you whisper, “I want you.”

He leans close, your noses almost touching. “Oh, my pet. What would your mother and father think?” He enjoys this, and he is aware that you do as well.

Aemond has always been reserved, his passions held close to his chest. But if he had to protect this illicit affair from the entire world, he would. His mother’s disapproval. His brother’s heedless taunting. Even your father Daemon, and that surely means something.

“They would…” you pretend to be deep in thought, “probably take your one good eye.”

“Oh, yes.” His fingers resume in movement.

“Have me immediately married off to some Lord, just to save me from you.”

“Surely.” Lightly stroking, increasing the pace.

“And what would you do then?” you lean back, resting your head on the edge of the tub.

“Whatever you wish. Whatever you ask me to.” A truth that need not be spoken. A promise bound by blood and fire and love.

“My sa…pphire.” Your voice shakes as his finger enters you.

His heart sings as he watches you unfold, writhing underneath the water.

If anyone were to ask Aemond what his favourite sight is, he probably would not be able to give a direct response. How could he, without revealing that he is absolutely, irrevocably, in love with you?

💜💜💜

I'm aware that the song Lavender Haze is not about something as shallow as the colour of bathwater or a scent, but the theme matches the plot so... 🤷‍♀️

Incest is only semi-tolerated if you are a Targaryen living in the fantasy land of A Song of Ice and Fire (apparently) so for gods' sake dear readers, do not ever even consider this in reality. 😂

Aemond/General HotD taglist: @aemcndtargaryen @cryztalline @fairaardirascenarios @blackravena @vensidia @xinyourdreamsx @mrswhitethornbelikov @mikariell95 @thermiting @witchofthenorthstar @m00n5t0n3 @booknerd2004 @throughgoeshamilton @xcallmetaniax @wrendermeuseless @m-indkiller @graykageyama @nsainmoonchild @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @caspianobsessed @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @random-human02 @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @angel6776 @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss @wondergal2001 @huntycola @blackravena @vyctorya

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #midnights #ewan mitchell

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vigilskeep · 6 months

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“And with what wit has my cousin silenced so sweet a voice?” Celene asked into the expectant silence.

Melcendre paused, uncomfortable, but Gaspard dipped his head, a bow just barely sufficient to avoid undeniable insult. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, still chuckling, “I was pointing out that the young lady’s song had a melody similar to ‘King Meghren’s Mabari.’”

The assembled nobles tittered, scandalously amused. Celene kept her smile in place. It was a good first strike. The song had been popular and harmless decades ago, during the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden. It told the story of the unhappy Meghren, sent against his will to Ferelden by Emperor Florian. In the song, the hapless noble was comically frustrated at every turn by rough Fereldan culture, including a slobbering mabari hound that ate his mask.

While never forbidden, the song had lost its popularity after King Maric of Ferelden killed Meghren. Since coming to power, Celene had done her best to strengthen ties between the two countries, and the song mocking the crude Fereldans and their uncultured customs had never come back into fashion.

Until now, it seemed.

“I remember singing this with the men during marches,” Gaspard said. “It took us back to the days when Orlais stood poised to conquer the world. Poor Meghren, trapped far from the Maker’s gaze, trying to make himself at home among the dog-lords.” He was a tall man, broad in shoulder, and his doublet and hose were cut with hard lines and silver trim to give the impres- sion of armor. His mask was gold, set with emeralds to match his family’s heraldry, and a tall yellow feather sprouted from the mask—like Ser Michel, he was a member of the chevaliers.

He was also standing not ten paces from Bann Teagan Guerrin, the Fereldan ambassador. The man’s face, bare of makeup, clearly showed his anger at hearing his people called “dog-lords.”

“It was a sad time for all of us,” Celene said, turning to the ambassador with a smile, “and Orlais is pleased to count Ferelden as a friend in these trying times.”

Teagan smiled gratefully and bowed. “Your Imperial Majesty, Ferelden hopes the same.”

“Of course.” Gaspard strode forward. “What’s past is past, eh, Teagan? And now we’re just two old warriors.” He clapped the Fereldan on the shoulder, and Bann Teagan stiffened at the familiarity.

“Did you bring your dog with you to Orlais, my lord?” Melcendre added, the dark-haired bard the very picture of innocence, even as the crowd chuckled.

Teagan turned to her, fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, though not to this ball. I doubt he’d appreciate the food.”

That got a laugh from the crowd. While not a master of the Game, the Fereldan noble was smart enough to see when he was being set up and to try to get the crowd on his side.

“Someday I’ll have to see your dog, Teagan,” Gaspard said, not to be distracted from his play. “But tonight, in celebration of the friendship between our empire and your, ah, kingdom, I brought something for you.” He snapped his fingers, and a servant rushed up carrying a long bundle wrapped in rich green velvet.

Gaspard took the package and handed it to Teagan with a wide smile. Reluctantly, knowing he was stepping into a trap but unable to find a way to avoid doing so, the ambassador unwrapped the package.

Inside, as Briala had informed Celene earlier in the afternoon, was a sword. It was Fereldan in make, largely functional but with a few hints of ornamentation around the hilt and cross guard to suggest that it was the fighting blade of a noble. It was worse for wear, with nicks along the blade and a few spots of rust.

“Grand Duke Gaspard!” Michel moved to put himself between Celene and the sword. The weapon should never have made it into the hall—guards at the palace entrance checked all packages to prevent an assassin from bringing a weapon inside. Which was, Celene reflected, why Gaspard had gone to so much trouble to get the package smuggled in and hidden in the hedge maze earlier that day.

“At ease, chevalier.” Gaspard eyed the blade. “I’d as soon come at someone with a fireplace poker as I would wield that thing.” He nodded to Bann Teagan. “It was taken off the body of some Fereldan noblewoman who got caught making trouble for poor Meghren. Moira, I believe.” Behind his gold and green mask, his eyes twinkled with good humor. “Our servants had been using it to kill rats in the cellars.”

Teagan had gone still, looking at the sword in his hands as though the rest of the court had vanished. The green velvet bunched around his white-knuckled fists.

“That was a noble’s sword?” Melcendre asked, adding just the right touch of doubt to lure the crowd into laughing at the battered blade and drive Teagan further toward saying something that Gaspard could construe as an insult.

i don’t know how many of you have read the masked empire but to me it’s the only depiction of orlesians that really hits and i did mean to share this bit when i read it bc i actually gasped. for the unfamiliar, moira theirin is maric’s mother and thus cailan and alistair’s grandmother, she was ferelden’s rebel queen under the orlesian occupation. she was murdered by orlesians when a fereldan bann betrayed her to them and her head was put on a spike in denerim

#long post #i think you guys need this context when i lose my mind over OUR ARGUMENTS WITH THE ORLESIANS ARE A THING OF THE PAST #they would have eaten cailan alive.

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animentality · 5 months

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last playthrough i noticed gorty has a piano in his office at wyrms rock. think he actually plays it?

part of me thinks he couldnt so much as put two notes together and its just there to look fancy and expensive, which is funnier and maybe more in character, but the romantic in me keeps thinking about him genuinely being able to play it, and good at it too. not sure where or when he’d have learned but hes got the steady hands for it anyway

also him playing it for durge, of course. amnesiac durge catching themself humming a tune that they cant remember ever having heard before, and then later they find out its a song gortash used to play a lot when they were together

Don't fucking do that to me, anon, I'd be dead on the floor.

The Dark Urge expresses an admiration for Orin's "artwork."

I wonder if maybe the Dark Urge wishes they were more artistic themselves. They're very efficient and practical.

They wouldn't have an eye for art, or music.

Which is why it's kind of sad to me, to imagine a bard Dark Urge?

Imagine loving music and wanting to grow up to play music for people...and then you find out you're a murderous demigod.

Like ouch.

No symphony orchestra in the upper city for you!

But as for whether or not Gortash knows how to play...realistically, it's just there to make him feel like he's one of those snotty nobles, born with a silver spoon in their mouth, all knowing how to play at least one instrument from childhood.

But romantically?

i'm with you, anon.

Gortash learns ONE song, that he can play for the Dark Urge, and it is awful, it's soooo off tune, it's awkward and he's terrible.

But the Dark Urge is transfixed, because they have never stopped to enjoy music before. And they can't hear the mistakes.

They just hear a man playing a song for them, and only them.

No gods between them. No trail of corpses or blood or plans for the invasion of the sword coast.

Just two people, sitting in his office, one badly playing the piano, the other listening and wishing they could speak into existence the forbidden thoughts and feelings racing through their heart, but knowing better.

Also, let's go wild.

Everyone seems to headcanon Gortash inviting the Dark Urge to come talk to him privately.

He invites them in and he's playing that fucking song.

and they recognize it as something they have hummed to themselves, heard late at night, when they were between conscious and unconscious.

maybe it's even a song they hum to themselves in broken melodies and forgotten harmonies when they're feeling particularly uncontrollable or murderous, because gortash was the only one who ever knew how to manage your urge.

ahhhh.

anon, stop giving me fic ideas.

you won't like what happens.

#durgetash #baldurs gate 3 #bg

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dawns-beauty · 1 year

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Okay, it’s dumb but I have got to talk about my favorite goofy detail I put into the Khajiit Has Wares mod!

I gave each of the caravan leaders a book to read in their downtime (well, Ri’saad got two books.) I figure it’s gotta be boring waiting for the Dragonborn to stop by and offload all their junk treasures, yes?

Anyways, I designed each book cover, with titles in Ta’agra (big thanks to the Ta’agra Project for their translator and fonts!)

Ri’saad got two history books:

Song of Khunzar-ri, a reference to the bard song of the same name in ESO. I edited a screenshot of Khunzar-ri’s ESO model to look more like an illustration.

Two Lights Over Vvardenfell by Jobasha, a reference to the Twin Lamps abolitionists from Morrowind (as well as the Khajiiti bookseller in Vivec)

Ahkari got a mystery novel:

Dark Moon[s] Over Dune by Blue-Fur.

and Ma’dran got this:

[The] Eagle Queen and Her Eye: Forbidden Lovers by Mistress Beautiful. It’s a historical bodice-ripper about the illustrious Altmer Queen Aryenn and her spymaster, the cunning Razum-dar. It is extremely outlawed in the Aldmeri Dominion, of course, but Ma’dran is a curious cat.

#skyrim #my tamriel now #khajiit has wares

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haitaniapologist · 11 months

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you drew stars around my scars ( kaveh x fem!reader )

tws — alcoholism, d*pression, s*icide mention, a lot of daddy issues, angst (with comfort). this fic contains sensivite subjects regarding those trigger warnings, so be careful when reading. no proofread.

as a child, you never understand why you needed to smell all the other bottles of your house before drinking it. nor why your father would take hours on the tavern before coming home with the delicious dinner he promised you before leaving — you were just happy to have him at home, even though he and your mother would always argue about the smallest things. maybe it was just how married couples were, your child conscience would think, too unaware of the way he'd reek of wine or how sometimes he needed help to walk because his legs were too wobbly.

your father's problems with alcohol started as soon as you were born, and you couldn't tell what were traits of his personality or the alcohol speaking and the thought of not knowing who your father truly was always plagued you.

but, with kaveh, you could.

you could tell that when he was flirtier than usual, or more touchy, it was the alcohol on him speaking — sober kaveh was more of romantic gestures than flirty ones — or when he looked too cheerful and his smiles didn't made his eyelids close with happiness, or when his eyes were too unfocused on the person he was supposed to pay attention to. they were subtle changes, but changes you knew deep in your heart.

drunk kaveh wasn't the kaveh you fell in love with, the kshahrewar student who you left in awe after one of your dance performances in the grand bazaar — your love story was supposed to rival mondstadt's greatest bard's songs, something that was supposed to be forbidden due to the nature of yours and his environments, but the love that blossomed inside two younger hearts was too strong to let the relationship end just because of what the akademiya thought about the arts.

but such love wasn't strong enough to endure when you saw him going in the same path as your father, even with the many warnings and sincere conversations you had with him.

you've made the promise of not being like your mother on the day your father died due to his addiction, and you decided to honor your teenage self — leaving kaveh and ending your relationship was the most difficult decision you ever made, a decision that, in the middle of uncharacteristic cold nights, you still had doubts if it was the best thing. however, you didn't want to be there to watch him going further and further down in a path you knew which the ending was, without caring for your experiences or feelings. he knew how much you were affected by your father actions, but still decided to close his eyes to what could happen when relying on alcohol to feel something good could happen.

a broken heart to break a cycle was a fair thing to pay, you thought — even though it hurt more than anything you ever felt. kaveh managed to make a way for him inside your bones and soul, and your flesh screamed for him. to feel his touch, to taste his kisses once more.

just like the wine he so dearly loved, he managed to be as sweet and additive as it.

but life needed to go on, and work called you, like a salvation. becoming a member of zubayr theater and rising to the position of one of their stars alongside nilou was what kept you sane through your grief, and you couldn't be more grateful for them — and, surprisingly, for alhaitham too. kaveh's friend and roommate took your side in everything that happened, and you knew it was because of his worry for his housemate, but a strong friendship blossomed between you and the scribe after the break up.

“he has stopped drinking, you know.” alhaitham said, casually, over his coffee break with you, as if what he was saying was about some old guy in birmastan instead of your ex boyfriend.

you almost spilled your tea over him, or choked on what was inside your mouth. it had been some months since you last heart about kaveh, grateful that he respected your wishes when you said you didn't want to see him ever again — words you screamed at his face after he arrived in your house reeking of wine and triggering the most horrible feelings your heart had locked up ever since you were fourteen — but you never thought alhaitham would be the one to bring him up, so casually, inside the puspa cafe. taking your silence as his permission to talk, the scribe continued. “i've never seen him so determined before, not even when he's working on a project.” it wasn't common for alhaitham to praise kaveh, so what he was doing was probably something so exceptional that made the scribe want to say good things about his roommate. “the breakup changed him, i suppose.”

you smiled weakly at him. was he trying to put him in good graces with you again? did kaveh make him schedule a meeting with you so alhaitham could talk about your ex-boyfriend to you? you wouldn't be fooled. you were no scholar, but you weren't stupid. “i wish he had changed when we were still together, as it is easy to change when one is no longer around. now, i suppose it doesn't matter anymore for me.” it pained to say such words because it did matter for you, and you hoped alhaitham couldn't see the tears glossing your vision.

did you mean so little to kaveh that he decided to change only when you weren't in the picture anymore?

—

kaveh sighed in frustration.

he had hoped that when alhaitham brought him up in his conversation with you, you would've a better reaction. though it hurt, he expected such words coming from your mouth — but words could be lies, and he wished he was there to watch your body language, as he could read it like the palm of his hand.

unlike alhaitham, who read people as if they were a rock.

however, that didn't matter. kaveh now knew when your next performance in the grand bazaar would be, and that was what he needed. he was sure you'd never agree to meet him in private, and maybe approaching you in a public setting would be best for him to show how much he had changed and how willing to fight to have you back he was.

he hoped the bouquet of sumeru roses would be enough to soften your heart, so he could talk how difficult it was to stop drinking, but he did it for you and for himself, too — the scars on his fists were enough reminder of how destructive alcohol made his thoughts to be, and, if it wasn't for alhaitham, he doubted he would've survived such spiral he went down on that fateful day. drinking had been a great distraction for all the pain he had inside his chest, for his father and mother and for you too, but it was also his biggest enemy. everything was much better now that wine wasn't his best friend.

in the end, you had been right, and kaveh was a fool for not listening to you — and he hoped he wasn't too late now. surely seven months wouldn't be enough to erase the love you had for him, right?

he sighed again, a soft smile on his face watching you spinning and dancing, rehearsing for your next performance. it pained him to watch from the shadows something he used to watch first hand, but he didn't want to disturb you. he had already waited for so long, a few days wouldn't be compared to the months of anguish since you broek up with him.

—

sometimes you felt like you were being watched from the shadows, a figure following every step you took, but you wouldn't let yourself be paranoid about something that was just in your head. maybe you were just anxious about your next performance in the grand bazaar, as sharing the stage with nilou always awoken such feelings in your heart — as her senior in both the theater and in the art of dancing, though sharing the same teacher, you always wanted to give her and the audience the performance of your life.

however, you were restless for some other reasons — alhaitham's words about kaveh were still resonating inside your head, of how he stopped drinking after your break up. it was selfish and even naïve to think that he'd try to mend the relationship you both had now that he was sober, but you still could imagine him coming to your house and you both getting over your differences. he was haunting all of your what-ifs, making you look for him in shadows inside the places you two used to go together, and that infuriated you. deep inside, you wished he'd attend the performance in the grand bazaar, only for you to see if he was doing alright.

but the fear of seeing him with someone else was too much, too.

what if his sober mind noticed that he didn't love you, and his feelings were just products of the wine he'd drink before reaching your house and making your body his home? what if he noticed he was just trying to find who'd draw stars on his scars, whisper sweet nothings on his skin whenever the pain and guilt about his father's death would take control of his body? what if you were just what his drunk self needed, but not his sober one?

you wondered if that were the thoughts of your mother, while enduring a loveless marriage with your father. was she holding the hope of him becoming the man she fell in love with for all those years, while peeling the shell of a monster, trying to find your father beneath it?

she'd found love again, but you wondered if those thoughts still plagued her, like your thoughts about kaveh were doing with you. you just wished he could go away and leave you alone, even though he wasn't there.

a knock on the door took you out from your thoughts, and, groaning, you got up from the chair you were sitting, ready to start another performance by nilou's side. the cataclysm was a play very popular within the kids and those who didn't study in the akademiya, and the clothes of the electro archon were almost like a second skin to you, the armor you needed to shield yourself from your own thoughts — though, however, such armor came to ashes as soon as noticed a pair of red eyes on the crowd.

—

kaveh hugged the bouquet of sumeru's roses a bit closer to his heart, after hearing mr. zubayr saying that you have already left for your house.

he didn't expect you to wait for him, if you did notice him in the crowd, but it still hurt a little. you danced so beautiful, portraying the fierce and unstoppable electro archon fighting against monsters alongside the lord of geo. he was your biggest supporter and admirer, even though you always had dozen of them lined up to greet you after a performance — always saying to kaveh that none could compare to him when he'd get too pouty, wanting to have you all for himself when seeing the attention you gave your admirers.

now, perhaps, he was the one who couldn't compare to them.

but he knew your favorite flowers were the sumeru roses, unlike many of your admirers, and he was willing to give you millions of them if you so desired — the birmastan would be in loss of one of their medicinal herbs, as they'd be sitting on your house as a testimony of his compromise to you.

kaveh knew like the back of his hand the way of your house, familiar with all the wild flowers and rocks of the way. his architectural mind always had ideas of how to make your street more beautiful, to suit having you living there, ideas that would make you stay awake during the night hearing him saying everything that was in his mind — more flowers, more trees, a new design for the buildings. you two were like water and oil, but mixed perfectly until you didn't.

almost reaching the place he'd call a second home, he heard noises that always made him disgusted and angry — fighting sounds, skin against skin in punches and kicks, cries and whines. but he ran, because he knew from whose mouth such sounds were coming from.

he would make whoever ambushed you pay with the most painful punishment.

“hey, what's happening here?” he demanded, voice full of authority of a member of the kshahrewar darshan — especially because those who were cornering you were his juniors, and he wondered what was wrong in their minds. they stopped as soon as kaveh opened a way between them to put his body in front of you, not sparing a glance to your wounded body. if he saw the extent of your injuries before making them leave, perhaps he'd be expelled from the akademiya. “did you all lose your minds? she's a weaponless woman!”

they seemed ashamed, but only because their senior caught them in the act. kaveh heard you sighing in relief behind him, and such a reaction made the red clouds on his vision dissipate — you felt safe with him still.

“she's a dancer.” the boldest one of them replied, and kaveh recognized him as the one who punched your face slightly before he made them stop. “a scum. you shouldn't protect her, she's staining sumeru's reputation.”

if it wasn't for the flowers on his hand, kaveh would've done to him the same he was doing to you. “and she's still a weaponless woman.” he knew that trying to argue with them wouldn't lead anywhere, and he needed to make sure you were fine. “just leave, the three of you, before i treat you like you were treating her.” he threatened, watching as they went away before turning to you.

with an open lip and some open wounds on your arms and neck, kaveh almost blurted how beautiful you were — but he knew it wasn't time for it. “are you alright?” you nodded and, as much as he wanted to hear your voice speaking to him, he would give you time. he knew some people were hostile to you and your colleagues of the zubayr theater, but he never thought scholars would be bold enough to ambush a defenseless artist. it made this blood boil, but he wasn't there to avenge you yet. “th… these are for you.” he almost shoved the bouquet in your face, closing his eyes when he felt his cheeks warming up, missing the way your eyes sparkled and your lips curled in a small smile.

he only opened them again when he felt you taking over the flowers, eyes closed and face close to the petals, nose smelling the comforting scent of the flowers — and he shouldn't be jealous of inanimate things, but oh, how much he desired to be in their position. “thank you.” you whispered, and kaveh felt his heart melting with the sweetness of your voice.

an awkward silence followed the sweet interaction, with both you and kaveh lost in your thoughts and the words you wanted to say to each other locked up on throats that wanted nothing more than to proffer the undying love for each other of their owners.

“may i escort you to your house, y/n?” your name wasn't foreign to his tongue, but it had been ages since he professed those syllables — it has a new taste on his mouth, far more sweet than it used to be. “so i can prevent those scumbags from bothering you again.” kaveh quickly added, afraid that you would see such a suggestion as something else. it was something else, a way for him to be around you once again, and you probably knew that, but he hoped you would accept it.

he was surprised that you didn't seem to think twice before answering. “yes, of course. lead the way, kaveh.”

—

it was a nice and short walk, but before you knew it, kaveh was inside your house and between your legs, his fingers cleaning your facial wounds with a delicacy only reserved to those who were lovers of the art — and his hands were stable, you noticed. not trembling because of the alcohol.

you didn't remember how you managed to ask him to get inside or how he managed to get you to agree with him doing such an intimate act on your body, but it used to be the other way around. you would be the one cleaning wounds on his face and body from fighting against monsters in the forest, and not him doing it because some men thought it would be a wise decision to abuse you just because of your career choice. your mother would always say that you were like a bird, one that wasn't caged, and that your wings would take you to the most beautiful places and she wasn't wrong. it took you to the zubayr theater, to kaveh.

he wasn't saying anything even though you wanted him to, but you couldn't be able to break the silence. it wasn't awkward, but it was heavy and you hoped he couldn't hear or feel how quickly your heart was bearing — but, as soon as you noticed bandages around his wrists, you knew you needed to ask.

“what happened?” you asked, holding his wrists together and near your face, making him unable to do his work on your skin. everything was clean now, you could feel it.

kaveh contemplated if he should lie to you or not. those were scars he was ashamed of, scars that weren't known by you. but you could read him like an open book and, judging by the tears making your eyes shine with sadness, you knew what was the action that inflicted them on his skin. “it was a long night.” he whispered, feeling the way your fingers traced the twin scars under the bandages. “it was the first death anniversary of my father after our break up and i just… i just wanted the pain and guilt to stop.” he watched as you nodded, trying so hard to not let the tears fall down your eyes. “i had drank more than normal and smashed a bottle on the wall and… the glass was too appealing for me.”

“i'm sorry.”

“it's not your fault." kaveh whispered back, taken aback by how sad you sounded. it never had been your fault — his decisions and acts were his burdens to carry. “it was on that day that i noticed how bad the alcohol was for me and that i needed help. if it wasn't for alhaitham…” he sighed, dropping his eyes at where your hands held his wrists together — your touch burned his skin, and he hoped it would leave a scar so he could always remember this moment.

though, however, he never expected you to slowly untie his bandages.

neither did you know what got over you, but you needed him to know how much you still loved him, how much you were willing to make things work between you two again. you needed kaveh in your life like a flower needed water, like the moon needed the sun to shine. you brought the skin of his wrists to your lips, kissing the scarred skin softly — and your lips felt like an oasis after days spent in the desert.

“d-don’t.” he whispered, and you could tell his eyes were filled with tears despite not looking at me. “don’t give me hope that you still love me.” he felt as small as he did on the day his mother left sumeru to fontaine, to the day his father left to participate in that damn tournament. and it was that kid that was whispering such words, afraid of being left again by someone he loved.

but as much as that child was speaking for kaveh, your own child self was the one making your decisions — a child that once was afraid to open her heart and be hurt, a child that the biggest nightmare was to be loved wrong like her father once did with her. but kaveh showed that his love for you wasn’t wrong, and you couldn’t let him slip away from your grasp again. it was difficult to let him go in the first place, but you now knew that both of you needed time to grow and heal and to be away from each other while doing so.

“but i do.” you whispered so softly, afraid that he would fly away like a dandelion if you spoke louder. “leaving you was the hardest decision i ever took, kaveh.” you confessed, putting his right hand over your chest. “my heart never stopped being yours.”

kaveh smiled, albeit more sadder than you were expecting too. “as mine never stopped being yours too, my muse.” the pet name always made your cheeks redden, and now it wasn’t different. “and i need to thank you.” the hands that were being held by yours made their way to cup your face, bringing your forehead to rest on his. kaveh was beautiful from any angle, but being this close to him made you notice how enchanting he was. “the hardest decision of your life was what i needed to clear my head and mind.” you both breathed the same air, as if you were the same being, but it wasn’t enough — yours and kaveh’s souls needed to be one once more, and you could feel them mixing once more, finally finding the comfort and ease they were deprived of while you were away. “and be ready to love you as you deserve.”

but relief, too. relief to know that their feelings didn’t change, but only grew and grew stronger than before, to know that they were still made for each other despite everything.

your ways would always lead you to kaveh, as his would lead him to you.

he didn’t hesitate to claim your lips once more, caressing your face as if you were the most beautiful piece of artwork he ever saw. you would never grow tired of kaveh’s kisses and you only noticed how much you missed them —but it seemed different somehow, without the smell of wine and sluggish words. they were stable and assertive, only to show you how much kaveh was willing to change to worship you and your body.

the ghost who was haunting all of your what ifs was back to his rightful place: between your arms, and to stay until the end of his days.

not me coming back after months of just reblogging hal's fics to post one of my own lmao im sorry! i'll try to write more now okay!

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader #tw alcoholism #tw depression #tw suicide

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wannastayugly · 1 year

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Second and final part of this thing I wrote about the Storyteller showing itself to Jaskier as Geralt. TW for hurt character, but they're fine! Thank you very much for such a positive feedback! I'm very insecure about my writing, but I really love putting these little stories in the world and knowing you're enjoying them makes everything better!

Jaskier sits on the stool letting out a low groan of pain. He holds his chemise over his lap with both hands and keeps his eyes there, missing the warmth of it as a cold breeze invades the room and touches his exposed injured back.

It's been two months since Jaskier met the Storyteller. Two months of new poetry and ballads he has still not sang to anyone and which are fated to remain only as a collection of words in his notebook, ready to feed the fire.

"Jaskier?" Geralt's voice fills his ears with kindness, and Jaskier looks up as the witcher walks closer and touches his shoulder. He holds a wet towel and a bowl of salve, but Jaskier's attention goes to the blood stains on his black shirt. "Are you alright?"

Jaskier gives an insincere, almost inaudible positive answer and looks away. He remembers the monster's claws hurting his skin and the terror in Geralt's voice when he called his name. The singer had saved the witcher that morning, decided to give his life for him in his foolisher impulsive act of the season. But, together with the pain, Jaskier found a mad and surprising bit of relief when he realized there, again on a bloody floor, that whatever the Storyteller had meant when comparing him to Éile, his story would never follow the same tragic path, for Jaskier would never, in any reality, have the bravery to be the one killing the man he loved instead of letting himself be killed.

"Jaskier."

"Yes! Yes, I am fine." Geralt doesn't buy it. He slips his hand from Jaskier's shoulder to his neck and gives him an unpleased look. He can tell he has a fever by now, although the touch also leaves his cheeks warmer.

Touch. That's something Geralt only offers him every now and then, and Jaskier appreciates the attention now.

While Geralt starts taking care of his wounds, he thinks about the ballads he composed about the bard and her witcher, and how the simple act of writing those two words together in a song made him feel exposed. Every verse of fear, of desire or sorrow, spoke about his own heart. Forbidden to be heard, those words burn in his chest just like the soft touch of Geralt's calloused fingertips do now; like the wood that burned between them during the cold nights among trees and starry skies.

He closes his eyes, wanting to lean into the touch, clutching the fabric in his hands.

"I read your new songs."

The confession comes to wake him up like a bucket of cold water. His blue eyes go wide, his face is molded in shock and the world stops for a second, almost making him wonder if the Storyteller has frozen time again.

"What"

"Some days ago. Didn't mean to." Geralt continues. There's a bit of guilt and discomfort in his voice this time. Done cleaning Jaskier's wounds, he now applies salve to them, lessen the pain; his fingers now travelling the bard's lower back. Jaskier wishes he could still focus on them. "Witchers don't lose control like that. In case you've ever wondered."

"What- shut up"

"The stabbing bit was concerning, though."

"Shut the fuck up!" For Geralt's surprise, Jaskier's tone rises with rage, and, enduring the sharp pain of his damaged flesh, the bard stands up and finally faces him. Geralt stands still, a perfect portrait of regret. He still holds the bowl, unsure about what he should do with it. Now, it's Jaskier's eyes that burn. "You didn't have the right! You weren't- you-"

For a moment, Jaskier's own screams reminds him of their last major fight.

Caingorn.

He remembers letting out a confession when not even him knew what it was. He remembers Geralt's words stabbing him and pushing him away, and how he wished something would come from the woods and eat him alive while he walked down the mountain alone, feeling like he was leaving shards of his heart behind.

"Jaskier, look at me!"

Jaskier doesn't notice the tears rolling down his chin. Panic has now invaded him, bringing all his worst fears into his mind like a sadistic devil and enjoying his shivers when making him travel between all the reasons why he could now lose the little he had and was grateful for.

Not again, he mourns.

Geralt finally leaves the bowl aside and approaches him, too unsettled for a supposed emotionless man. Although the bard takes a step back, he doesn't want to avoid Geralt's closeness. Never really did.

Don't leave me alone again.

"I'm sorry, bard." Geralt's embrace is loose, careful not to touch him on the wrong spots. Jaskier groans in frustration when he sees himself hiding his face on the pale neck of the man who now caresses his hair.

"I didn't want this", Jaskier murmurs.

"I know."

He punches Geralt's chest softly. His eyes shut. Fear now gives space to shame, although he doesn't know exactly what he is ashamed of. I hate you, he thinks. A silly thing to say. Just like the Storyteller, Geralt has already known his truth for a long time.

"I love the fuck out of you, too."

Saying that, Geralt breaks the embrace to cup his face, presses their foreheads together and smiles. Gets lost in the eyes that stare back at him. A love song in blue and golden shades.

It doesn't take much for their lips to meet in an intense, rushed act. Jaskier digs his nails into the other man's skin and every bite, every touch on his exposed skin after that is like a fever dream.

"I should've done this a long time ago" the witcher would whisper breathless into his ear after a while; his hand slipping into Jaskier's now unbuttoned trousers, "right in the first time I heard your heartbeat run. Right in the first time the temperature of your body rose and you smelled like this."

That day, having Geralt with, on, in him; being allowed to taste his sweat, smiling against his lips, feeling his scars under his fingers and laughing of his concerned expressions when he'd touch the wrong places, Jaskier found himself alive for the first time in a long while. And in Geralt's arms, he contemplated in awe his own story, the most fascinating poem he had ever written.

#geraskier #jaskier the bard #geralt of rivia #fic

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avernusreject · 6 months

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Here’s another Tav idea (you guys finally getting why I never actually finish this game?):

A bard who gives prophecies of people’s future through there music (could be they literally sing a prophecy, or maybe their music notes craft an image from the weave)

- We know that divination magic is a whole school devoted to predicting the future, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Maybe the bard has a connection to a god that whispers glimpses of someone’s fate so long as Tav remains steadfast in their worship. Maybe they’ve created a warlock pact to an entity to have access to this forbidden knowledge.

- In day to day life, I can see them being hired as a fun party trick. Sort of how everyone can get super into but also freaked out by ouija boards at a party. Nobles would lap that shit up. So there’s a possibility more rich figures in the gate like Wyll, Lady Jannath, hell maybe even Gortash have encountered them. Maybe even got a reading

- What they roll on for their performance would dictate how coherent these prophecies could be. Nat 20 is a song filled with the most intricate of details, down to practically the color of someone’s socks. Nat 1, Tav sounds like a dumbass that’s just way too high on shrooms. The increasing complexity of the request dictates how high a success role would be (like asking if dinner will be good tonight versus explain to me in detail how I’m going to meet my spouse - two incredibly different requests)

#dnd character ideas #bg3 oc #tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #I’m on a bit of a bard kick at the moment #bard

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pookacangetit · 2 years

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Disney Song! Yuu [Submission Edition]

Submission by Seajellyx go check them out they're amazing this is amazing I'm combusting in happiness I-

MASTERLIST

i absolutely love your disney song yuu stuff <33

i’ve been brainrotting about it recently, so here are some assorted thoughts:

so you know how there are certain games and media that incorporate music into their battles or fighting? like rhythm games or hypnosis mic? think of an mc that fights,,, with their voice.. they already sort of use their singing to help in certain situations, but i mean actually battling.

learning different strategies and songs for certain situations, practicing or “sparring,” either with a partner or by themselves, learning which songs can pacify, which can harm, and which can heal, learning how different tempos and pitches change their impact. memorizing those songs by heart, and in the heat of battle, pulling just the right notes and lyrics to completely demolish their enemies with just a song.

imagine yuu learning as they go through their years at night raven, honing their skills until they’re able to heal or power up their allies, or demolish entire armies with hellfire or powerful shockwaves, just from a song.

on that note, a yuu that plays an instrument!

i think that would make their songs all the more powerful, since the accompanying melody boosts the power of the lyrics. (bard yuu lol) the characters that play an instrument would definitely want to do a duet. there's not much to say ab it i just think it's neat.

yuu in the light music club

chaos ensues.

cater, kalim, and lilia are ECSTATIC, every cult member and/or yuu stan is clamoring to join the club (but oopsie daisy unfortunately we can’t fit any more members in our band :) sorry~)

and also yuu is banned from singing the Forbidden Tunes during club activities, for safety reasons

but they’re still a great singer! along with cater’s voice, lilia’s guitar skills, and kalim’s drumming, they make for a harmonic team. the band both writes their own music and does covers. (do you think that because twst is a disney game, any twst song or any song written in tw is a Lyric?? could yuu literally just write their own spells????!)

and the club does shows every once in a while! they even get cool themes and costumes. (tickets sell out shockingly fast, it’s brutal (azul is punching the air))

possible band names could be: siren and the songbirds (personal fave), nightingale(s), fantasia, and sirensong

me beating my boyband(gn)/faux kpop group au urges back with a stick

yuu does regular performances at the mostro lounge!

sometimes they’re planned, sometimes they’re a surprise event, and sometimes yuu just gets up on stage and starts busting out the tunes

occasionally, it’ll be a big event, one that you have to buy a ticket/reserve a seat for. and the lounge is decorated and yuu has a fancy schmancy outfit and all that good stuff~

but most of the time it’s a more casual (as casual as mostro lounge can get, anyways) thing. it’s a regular night at the lounge, yuu is wearing a simple yet lovely outfit, and they’re up on the stage crooning some relaxing jazz~

azul is having the time of his life raking in that sweet sweet cash and some sweet sweet eye candy, floyd has had to be held back several times from hopping onto the stage, jade is just enjoying the music, and every yuu stan is either dying of happiness, or crying themselves to sleep (if they didn’t manage to snag a ticket/reservation)

(i like to think that pomefiore (mostly just rook and vil, really) and/or crewel does yuu’s hair, makeup, and overall styling)

finally i actually submitted these, sorry for taking so long lol

there is actually more where that came from so stay tuned? lol

Seajellyx you amazing bean I just vwfafgbbdvca-

#submission #twst #disney song yuu #twst imagines #twst scenarios #zxqfhrjhdvvdv my brain's just hyped on happy hormones rn this is so amazing-

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peepawleo · 1 year

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Peepaw what is dungeons and daddies

OKAY SO.

Dungeons and Daddies is a DND podcast run by Anthony Burch, one of the main writers of God of War. I found it during the apocalypse, (it was discontinued for obvious reasons) and it really helped my multitudes of mental illnesses because it is the funniest goddamn podcast that has ever podcasted I swear to fucking god-

The main plot is that four dads and their five sons from our world, on the way to a soccer tournament, fall through a portal into the Forbidden Realms. The sons are separated from their fathers and the Dads have to go on a magical, epic, heroic adventure to save them.

The Dads are, as follows;

Darryl Wilson, a stay at home sports dad with a heart of gold and a love for America, and who becomes a barbarian in the forbidden realms, father to Grant Wilson.

Henry Oak, a hippie nature dad who wears Birkenstocks and becomes a Druid [Not a cleric, og post was a mistake lmao]. His two sons, Lark and Sparrow, are mischievous identical twins.

Glenn Close, a rock and roll bard dad who has a christmas song cover band and canonically smokes weed with his son Nick Close. He is canonically the coolest dad of the group.

[He is also the hottest. I want that man SO FUCKIGN BAD HES SO GODDAMN. OUGH. DUDE. GLENN CLOSE. OFSUFKJDKJFDKJ-]

And then there's Ron Stampler, business man and emotionally stunted stepfather, who is trying his best to connect with his stepson Terry.

I. Love. This. Fucking. Show.

Its about catholic guilt its about the eldritch and the terrifying unknown its about attempting to control that which you cannot possibly understand its about the generational cycle of trauma its about how the patriarchy cripples every generation of men that lives under it its about loss and love and father and son relationship and most importantly it is FUCKING HILARIOUS.

#dungeons and daddies #//yes this is a real podcast i didnt just make up a whole thing for leo to be interested in #future leo #rottmnt #rottmnt ask blog #rottmnt leo #ask future leo #infodump

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ennas-aesthetic · 1 year

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The Forbidden Wing in the Palace of Dreams

OK. OK. Stick with me for a bit.

You know how in the second chapter of Brief Lives Dream had an entire Wing and suite of rooms in the castle made for Thessaly, and when she left he asked Lucien (who asked Mervyn) to take them down? That one? (Don't worry this post isn't about that witch I'm just trying to set up a precedent).

Do you think Dream had a Wing/Room made for Orpheus as well?

He must've, mustn't he? There are implications that Orpheus grew up in the Dreaming. There must've been a Wing for him in his Father's palace, as grand as his castle of white shimmering marble. Chambers fit for the son of the Principal Muse and the Divinity of Dreams.

It shifts, of course, like most Dream things do. As Orpheus grew the Wing changed and expanded, accommodating the needs of its master's son. The Wing was never truly empty, even when Orpheus left for Colchis with Jason and the Argonauts. Most of his possessions were still stashed there, cloistered and guarded. (And though Oneiros was not certain his son would be coming back from the journey, warned of the perils of seafaring by Teleute, he made sure the palace staff kept the quarters in pristine condition. In preparation for the day his son returned.)

Orpheus never did return.

He did, from his journey on the Argo, but he was… changed. A boy transformed into a man, whose horizons has expanded. He took with him only his lyre – Oneiros’ parting gift, fashioned from the rarest tortoise shells – and announced he was going to see the world. A wandering bard, singing the songs of fools, and lovers, and kings, and prophets alike. Oneiros did not stop him. He cannot live his son’s life for him, he reasoned. Orpheus’ lifetime was as brief as a candle’s flame in the wind. It was time the boy set out on his own.

(Oneiros still maintained the Wing’s upkeep. This he entrusted to Lucien (and perhaps Mervyn) alone. He was more than aware of his son’s mortality, and if his own Father saw his sniveling attachment he would have laughed at him, but. If Orpheus wished it, if his son wanted to go back to the place he once called home… then it will be there. Waiting for him.)

When Orpheus stormed out of the palace, furiously declaring he was no longer Oneiros’ son, the Dreaming fell into a dark storm. A hurricane of apocalyptic proportions, as if the earth-shaker himself has brought his Trident down upon them. It raged for days and days. A particular part of the castle was damaged extensively in the aftermath. Part-custodian and groundskeeper of the Dreaming, Lucien, hesitantly, asked what to do with it. Oneiros’ answer was clipped, low and dangerous. “Leave it be.”

Lucien dare not ask again.

No one in the Dreaming dare to acquire their master’s wrath (which always seemed to simmer just below the surface) either, and so the Wing was left as it is. Damaged. Dilapidated. Broken.

Time marches, then turns, then churns. Seasons change. And then change some more.

And there is a forgotten Wing in the palace of Dreams. Every mortal, dream creature, and nightmare is forbidden to enter. That Wing that is broken down and decaying and rotten. The only one allowed entrance is the Shaper himself, but he avoids its corridors like the plague, has made it so it is barely perceived by the Dreaming’s inhabitants. A ghost, almost. But it’s there. It’s there.

The last time Dream comes back to the Wing, his son’s blood soak his forearms.

The room barely held any resemblance of its former glory, but Dream remembers. He remembers all too well. This, overcome with the blood-red ichor of rust, was his son’s cradle; a gift from Olethros during his birth. This, his son’s first lyre, one that Dream crafted himself, from the soft shells of a snapping turtle. Orpheus’ tunics and chitons – offerings of various nymphs and dream weavers. His quiver, his bow, his arrows: when his mother had him shadow the centaur Chiron in Mount Pelion. This, and this, and this. What are memories, if not half-remembered dreams, stories long forgotten? His son was long gone. There are red flowers blooming on the Quarter’s broken mosaic tiles. Very soon Dream will follow him – of this he is certain.

But now. Now Oneiros mourns. Oneiros grieves.

Dream remembers.

The next day the Wing has vanished. A new place lists itself on the Groundkeeper’s Book of Records: a garden filled with red blossoms. The flowers are a new variety, never before seen, in a dream or otherwise. Later, much, much later, when dreamers find themselves in the garden, they are certain that – as the lightly-clinging petals float in the wind – they could almost hear them sing.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #sandman meta #that borders on fic or oneshot #this is as canon-compliant as a fic could get tbh #morpheus #netflix the sandman #the sandman spoilers #brief lives #orpheus sandman #sandman fic #lord morpheus #oneiros #greek mythology references

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hannahhook7744 · 2 months

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'Right Where You Left Me....' Moodboards;

Enchanted Forest Name: Kiran Adil Hassan Mani Woodcock.

Storybrooke Name, if cursed: Corwin Tucker.

Nickname(s): 'Ran, Cor, Princey, K, Doctor Himbo, The Bumbling, and Kir.

Age during season 1 (minus the cursed years): 20 years old.

Enchanted Forest Job: Prince and heir to the throne.

Storybrooke Job: Medical intern.

Kingdom Name: The Kingdom of Linos.

Family: Reshmi/Vashti (Mother),

Raj (Father),

Amir/Aaron (Younger Brother),

Shahzad/Shawn (Younger Brother),

Penelope Devlin/Paisley Spinner (Fiancée).

Animal Companion(s): Shooting Star, Sunburst Heavens, and Swift Foot (Horses).

Theme Song: “Who I Am” by The Score.

Fairytale They're From: The Three Spinning Women.

Enchanted Forest Name: Penelope Guinevere Devlin.

Nickname(s): Pen, Penny, P, Pais, 'Ley, Lazy, and The Lazy Spinner.

Storybrooke Name, if cursed: Paisley Spinner.

Age during season 1 (minus the cursed years): 19 years old.

Enchanted Forest Job(s): Spinner (formerly),

Princess Consort/Queen to be.

Storybrooke Job(s): Seamstress.

Kingdom Name: The Kingdom of Linos.

Family: Gwenllian Devlin/Jean Spinner (Mother),

Ferdinand (Father),

Klotho/Karen (Adoptive Aunt),

Atropos/Annabelle (Adoptive Aunt),

Lachesis/Loretta (Adoptive Aunt),

Kiran Adil Hassan Mani Woodcock/Corwin Tucker (Fiancé).

Animal Companion(s): Flax (Cat).

Theme Song: "Everything I wanted" by Billie Eilish.

Fairytale They're From: The Three Spinning Women.

Enchanted Forest Name(s): Rowena Elladora Jones (Formerly Blithe).

Storybrooke Name, if cursed: None. She wasn't cursed.

Nickname(s): Ro, 'Wen, Winnie, The Forsaken Child, The Princess Who Never Smiled, R.J, Little Jones, The Queen of Strife, The Mother of Monsters, The Queen of Monsters, The Chaotic Sorceress, The Queen of Clumsiness, The Wild Sorceress, The Forbidden Child, R, Kid Pirate, Queen of the Outcasts, Queen of tbe Rejects, and The Pirate Queen.

Age during season 1 (minus the cursed years): 19 years old.

Enchanted Forest Job(s): Princess (Formerly),

Queen (Formerly),

Pirate/Fugitive (Formerly).

Storybrooke Job(s): Writer,

Mail Sorter at Storybrooke Post Office.

Kingdom Name: Rally (Formerly),

Strife (Formerly),

Storybrooke.

Family: Queen Pandora Blithe of Rally (Mother),

King Adam Blithe of Rally (Father),

Killian Jones/Captain Hook (Adoptive Brother),

Tempest Banks (Fiancée),

Warren Scarlet (Fiancé).

Animal Companion(s): Sweetpea (A Skeletal Moss Monster).

Theme Song: "Try" by Pink.

Fairytale They're From: The Princess Who Never Smiled.

Enchanted Forest Name(s): Warren Artemis Scarlet.

Storybrooke Name, if cursed: None. He wasn't cursed.

Nickname(s): Scout, Tree Climber, The Animal Whisperer, The Woodland Bard, The Tree Bugger, Tree Hugger, King Scout, The King of Monsters, The Father of Monsters, The Unlucky Boy, Scout Scarlet, Cuddlebug, The Hard Worker, Animal Boy, The Jack of All Trades, Tree Boy, Scouter, and The Honest Worker.

Age during season 1 (minus the cursed years): 21 years old.

Enchanted Forest Job(s): Thief (Formerly),

Handyman (Formerly),

Farmhand (Formerly),

Musician,

King-to-be/second in command of Strife.

Storybrooke Job(s): Storybrooke Pet Shelter Worker,

Musician.

Kingdom Name: Sherwood (Formerly),

Kingdom of Strife (Formerly),

Storybrooke.

Family: Lamia Scarlet (Mother),

Alaric Scarlet (Father),

Will Scarlet (Older Brother),

Penelope Scarlet (Older Sister)(Deceased),

Tempest Banks (Fiancée),

Rowena Jones (Fiancée).

Animal Companion(s): Shadow (Shapeshifting Cat Fish that can only turn into a cat/cat fish of varying sizes),

Rover (Beetle),

Ridden (Mouse).

Theme Song: “I tried to be perfect” by Sum 41.

Fairytale They're From: The Princess Who Never Smiled.

Enchanted Forest Name(s): Sylvester Boris Lucas.

Storybrooke Name, if cursed: Boris Lucas.

Nickname(s): Silver, S, Wolfie, Fangsie, Fang, Silv, Moondust, Starboy, Bongo Boy, and Spaceboy.

Age during season 1 (minus the cursed years): 21 years old.

Enchanted Forest Job(s): Defense guard.

Storybrooke Job(s): Waiter.

Kingdom Name: Misthaven (Formerly),

Kingdom of Strife (Formerly),

Storybrooke.

Family: Granny Lucas (Grandmother),

The Wolf (Grandfather),

Antia Lucas (Mother),

The Big Bad Wolf (Father),

Graham Humbert (Adoptive Brother),

The Dwarves (Pack),

Tiny (Pack),

The Charmings (Pack),

Quinn (Former Pack),

Adair (Former Pack),

Adalyn (Former Pack),

Adalyn's sister (Former Pack),

Tempest Banks (Pack),

Penelope Guinevere Devlin (Pack),

Kiran Adil Hassan Mani Woodcock (Pack),

Warren Scarlet (Pack),

Rowena Jones (Pack).

Animal Companion(s): None.

Theme Song: ‘Running With the Wolves’ by Aurora.

Fairytale They're From: Boy Who Cried Wolf.

Enchanted Forest Name(s): Tempest Atlantica Banks.

Storybrooke Name, if cursed: None. She wasn't cursed.

Nickname(s): Undine, Treasure, and Siren.

Age during season 1 (minus the cursed years): 20 years old.

Enchanted Forest Job(s): Siren Vigilantee,

Singer,

Queen of Strife.

Storybrooke Job(s): Storybrooke Canner,

Singer.

Kingdom Name: Atlantica (Formerly),

Kingdom of Strife (Formerly),

Storybrooke.

Family:

Nereida Banks (Mother),

Tidal Banks (Father),

Nereida (Maternal Aunt),

Myrddin (Maternal Uncle-Via-Marriage),

Melusine (Maternal Cousin),

Warren Scarlet (Fiancé),

Rowena Jones (Fiancée).

Animal Companion(s): None.

Theme Song: 'Drunken Sailor' by Aeseaes.

Fairytale They're From: Undine.

#ouat #onceuponatime #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat fanfiction #ouat fanfic #ouat ocs #ouat original characters #ouat moodboards #ouat moodboard #etc

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ouatnextgen · 2 months

Text

Right Where You Left Me Moodboards

These are my versions of the moodboards for the OUAT fanfiction I'm co-writing with @hannahhook7744! Her version is here (https://www.tumblr.com/hannahhook7744/743787303227604992?source=share)

Name: Prince Kiran Adil Hassan Mani Woodcock of Linos

Cursed Name: Corwin Tucker

Other names: 'Ran, Cor, Princey, K, Doctor Himbo, The Bumbling, Kir (nicknames)

Age: Twenty

Face Claim: Karan Brar (young)

Rahul Kohli (old)

Species: Human

Father: King Raj Woodcock of Linos (deceased)

Mother: Queen Reshmi Woodcock of Linos

Sibling(s): Prince Amir Woodcock of Linos

Prince Shahzad Woodcock of Linos

Other Family: Penelope Devlin (Fiancée)

Occupation: Crown Prince (EF), medical intern (Storybrooke)

Home: The Kingdom of Linos, The Kingdom of Strife, Storybrooke

Favorite Color: Dark Blue

Song: Who I Am- The Score

Powers: None

Weapons: Sword

Name: Penelope Guinevere Devlin

Cursed Name: Paisley Spinner

Other names: Pen (primary nickname)

Penny, P, Pais, ‘Ley (other nicknames)

Lazy (by her mother)

Age: Nineteen

Face Claim: Dakota Blue Richards (young)

Daisy Ridley (old)

Species: Human

Father: Lord Ferdinand Fitzroy

Mother: Gwenllian Devlin

Sibling(s): None

Other Family: Kiran Woodcock (Fiancée)

Occupation: Spinner (EF), seamstress (Storybrooke)

Home: The Kingdom of Linos, The Kingdom of Strife, Storybrooke

Favorite Color: Light Blue

Song: Everything I Wanted- Billie Eilish

Powers: None

Weapons: Slingshot

Name: Rowena Elladora Jones

Cursed Name: None

Other names: Ro, 'Wen, Winnie, R.J, Little Jones, R, Kid Pirate (nicknames)

The Forsaken Child, The Princess Who Never Smiled, The Queen of Strife, The Mother of Monsters, The Queen of Monsters, The Chaotic Sorceress, The Queen of Clumsiness, The Wild Sorceress, The Forbidden Child, Queen of the Outcasts, Queen of the Rejects, The Pirate Queen (titles)

Age: Nineteen

Face Claim: Hailee Steinfeld

Species: Human

Father: King Adam Blithe of Rally

Mother: Queen Pandora Blithe of Rally

Sibling(s): Killian Jones (adoptive)

Other Family: Tempest Banks and Warren Scarlet (Fiancées)

Occupation:Princess (EF, Formerly), Queen (Strife), Pirate/Fugitive (EF, Formerly) Writer (Storybrooke), Mail Sorter (Storybrooke)

Home: The Kingdom of Rally (formerly), The Kingdom of Strife, Storybrooke

Favorite Color: Teal

Song: Try- Pink

Powers: Magic

Weapons: Cutlass

Name: Warren Artemis Scarlet

Cursed Name: None

Other names: Scout, Tree Climber, Scout Scarlet, Cuddlebug, Tree Hugger (nicknames)

The Animal Whisperer, The Woodland Bard, The Tree Hugger, King Scout, The King of Monsters, The Father of Monsters, The Hard Worker, Animal Boy, The Jack of All Trades, Tree Boy, Scouter, The Honest Worker, The Unlucky Boy (titles)

Age: Twenty-One

Face Claim: Lou Wegner (young)

Lucas Till (old)

Species: Human

Father: Alaric Scarlet

Mother: Lamia Scarlet

Sibling(s): William ‘Will’ Scarlet

Penelope Scarlet (deceased)

Other Family: Tempest Banks and Rowena Jones (Fiancées)

Occupation: Thief (EF, Formerly), Handyman (EF, Formerly), Farmhand (EF, Formerly), King-to-be/second in command (Strife), Pet Shelter Worker (Storybrooke), Musician (all).

Home: Sherwood (formerly), The Kingdom of Strife, Storybrooke

Favorite Color: Green

Song: I Tried to Be Perfect- Sum 41

Powers: Animal Magic

Weapons: Daggers

Name: Sylvester Boris Lucas

Cursed Name: Boris Lucas

Other names: Silver (primary nickname)

S, Wolfie, Fangsie, Fang, Silv, Moondust, Starboy, Bongo Boy, and Spaceboy (other nicknames)

Age: Twenty-One

Face Claim: Tom Taylor (young)

Jake Abel (old)

Species: Werewolf/ Vampire hybrid

Father: The Big Bad Wolf

Mother: Anita Lucas

Sibling(s): Graham Humbert (adoptive)

Red Lucas

Other Family: Granny Lucas (maternal grandmother)

Occupation: Defense Guard (EF), Waiter (Storybrooke)

Home: Misthaven (formerly), The Kingdom of Strife, Storybrooke

Favorite Color: Spacey Colors

Song: Running With the Wolves- Aurora

Powers: Wolf transformation, super strength, super hearing, super smell

Weapons: None

Name: Tempest Atlantica Banks

Cursed Name: None

Other names: Undine, Treasure, Siren (nicknames)

Age: Twenty

Face Claim: Bethany Levy

Species: Siren

Father: Tidal Banks

Mother: Nereida Banks

Sibling(s): None

Other Family: Nerissa Banks (maternal aunt)

Myrddin Banks (uncle-in-law)

Melusine Banks (cousin)

Occupation: Siren Vigilante (EF, formerly), Queen (Strife), Cannery Employee (Storybrooke), Singer (all)

Home: Atlantica (formerly), The Kingdom of Strife, Storybrooke

Favorite Color: Bronze

Song: Drunken Sailor- Aeseaes

Powers: Mermaid transformation, hypnotic singing voice

Weapons: Harpoon, abalone dagger

#once upon a time #ouat #ouat original characters #ouat ocs #once upon a time oc

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