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recallingrealities · 3 years

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Aligned - Chapter 8 (Zelda x Reader - NSFW)

For Chapter 1, click (here)

Chapter 8: Singe

When you and Zelda had enjoyed that moonlit night together - the memory felt full and quiet, spilling with magnetic attraction - it resonated between your bodies. Vibrant and vibrating; what magic had originally felt like to you, in the way you had sensed limitless as a child.

It felt so much thicker, more vast. Beyond possible comprehension without entering it completely. This awareness arose, that you yourself: searching, identifying the electricity building between young minds as their thoughts connected across your classroom, in minutes during introductory lecture. Their identification of concepts known yet unknown, in that indescribable sensation of the everchanging present that you so adored finding recognition in.

You had not expected most of your nights to follow in this way. After the rendezvous in your office, you would have expected nearly the opposite from Zelda. Perhaps you were assuming she'd be one to hold her distance in winsome glances towards you. That the two of you would stare, amongst the witnessing presence of your Coven. Aloof, as so many things were, entranced in their community of magic. Yet, she and you, had grown in intimacy. Across the halls, past shoulders and nods, beckoned in silence for more from her. Things were shifting. You had adjusted to read her, with the way she held her stoic composure, experiencing her words, and her thoughts unspoken.

You were sculpting in new habits of your nights proceeding dinner - in spending your evenings together. Consumed by the time that would pass, you would make your way back towards your study, and she towards her own. Moving like your life depended on the coolness of your collected composure, the stillness you felt it setting, cooling and settling between your muscles and with each and every aching step. You had to allow the excitement to shiver in bliss within your muscles fibers, awakening you rush of happiness. Otherwise you were sure you’d tremble in anticipation, unable to get much of anywhere with an aching center and a driven, heating need. It felt like the inevitable was drawing closed like the heavy velvet curtains drawn at every window when the sun held betwixt the air and Earth. This anticipated, simple action, came swift and known in its proper unspoken timing.

The woman would wait exactly thirty three minutes before teleporting to your door. Rather than appearing inside. She found profound pleasure in the formality of knocking - as if it was merely an excuse to cease your breath with her entrance - as it never failed to do so.

You never spoke directly about your night of passion, but the two of you would play with it, in quiet fleeting references. In toying words or the craning shapes of her body language, she would play upon it. Even in the way she would eye over your face, then hands; when sending hot embers scoring the brim of the ashtray - your skin, with her heated and wildfiring, passionate bond. It was as if she knew it erupted you in goosebumps, the ashes reflecting visions of her hot kisses charring your flesh. She would send you a smirk or a knowing look, as her hand brushed against your leg - your trembles, as if she knew it would blur you between a vision and the presently jarring reality. It made you feel… drunk. It was as if the hunt was what pleased her especially. Knowing full well you were practically hers, wading in silent bated breaths - to be caught in grip of her jaws once more.

Tonight, that specific thought felt prolific, like foresight, but you never took stock in assuming. Assumption would be the bane of anyone's true knowing.

You had taken up in advising the Directrix in her personal journey towards the Goddess. It felt humbling. What an honor, and to some, a bafflement that a young woman and such new member such as Y/N being illicitly chosen to advising the High Priestess, at her personal request, for guided practice.

There were ways in sculpting her that you knew would be more useful. To help her build the relationship on her own. It felt like you had done this a thousand times with yourself. In the beginning, constantly feeling yourself waver in and out of connection with the Goddess. It had only been when you realized you were the one that had lost touch, disconnected from such an eternal internally expanded force, that you felt you could reach her in an instant, as if nothing had ever happened. Nothing has been disconnected or out of reach or place at all. This was when you had felt, what you could now detect as, unconditional love, for the very first time. A love that had never left you, or stung with resentment. In a force far greater than the collection of everything, and everything in between it.

When Zelda had asked you, she had no idea where to start. She had confided in you the vulnerable expectancy of her role, but that it was not that which had urged her to ask you. It was her own sense of yearning for Lilith, for Hecate - Astarte, Inanna, Ceridwen, and the rest of the Goddess in wholeness. She was raised to expect Lucifer to present himself to her. To wait and become whatever he wanted for task or pleasure. To know her and be known in return felt ineffable. She would have never thought in her lifetime that she would move humbly towards an entity, in hopes to understand an ancient force such as the Goddess, or source of life, and existence, a boundless Source. In magic. Let alone the option; to know her personally, as a friend and confidant and living love. Zelda was beginning to see in your lessons that the Goddess, Source, was a hidden face in every tiding. A piece in everything no matter her form. The pieces in shatters always fit, the web weaved in perfect collection of all of it.

The coven was in fact, indebted to Hecate - but Zelda's yearning to thank her entirety, beckoned, and called to her very core.

There had been none other that came to mind, to be better in guiding her than you. You felt blessed, remembering the Goddess's words that all was as in alignment. All was as it should be - in your choosing to embrace it.

A silent shiver courses through your shifting body. You had instructed Zelda to begin writing, whatever so moved her or felt intuitively natural. You urged her to write whether it made sense in the moment, or not - wherever the inclination came from. That her intuition was a tie, and if she came to trust it, she would come to realize that her ability to commune to the Goddess was just that, listening. In choosing to embrace it.

The redhead was already capable of prayer. It was the learning to listen that was the ticket for anyone's mastery. Of course, it can feel strange praying or writing to someone, something you do not feel you know. You suggested she write anything, even words in random that arose in her intuition - and that by writing them, she could dedicate whatever the product, to Hecate, despite satisfaction, for this was doubt. That an offering in genuineness, there could be none greater. You had explained that this was the intended act of honoring your experience: that in releasing control to the Goddess, whatever would come of it would be Aligned. Not only that, it was another form of offering - something much less conventional than the blood of a virgin or soul of the unborn. If there was anything Zelda had known about Lilith, it was her keenness for the unconventional. Something personal to this version of her, that she connected, she could resonate as personal. An attribute Zelda had become pleasantly familiar with, in her time knowing her.

She confessed, sacrifice hadn't been like that in Satanic witchcraft. This didn't require blood, or pain, or sacred items. It felt unsettling. It only required the intention that it was for her.

"A Goddess who believes that all we desire on our own, is truly what she desires for us".

This was a level of worthiness Y/N had mentioned recurrently, without the confession of your breathtaking awakening in the forest a few steps away - before sharing with the woman. You explained that you felt no human or witch knew how to handle such a concept, until now.

"How do you even begin to talk to someone like that..?"

Zelda confessed one evening, bewildered that such a Deity or concept, in selflessness could exist.

"I’ve learned that it's as much about talking - as it is about listening.

It is perfectly valid to begin with ‘I’m not sure what to say…’ and to let your thoughts flow in honesty from there. If you are ever unsure, take the time to listen. Take the point in pen hitting paper to release even the blotting smear of ink from the pen. It is the concept that you are consciously there in her presence”.

The silence seemed to stir those embers like before, except rather than in you, in herself.

"It is within all of us"

You comforted her, before returning her to the task of writing, the warm glow of your heat embering with the soft confident brush of your index against her forearm.

It was now, like many nights, that you read through the entries of her journal alongside her. You had insisted the first time, that you need not read it in order for it to be a valid sacrifice to the Goddess - but she had insisted in sharing the strangeness of the exploration with you. You found her words to be beautiful. Her handwriting, as smooth and sweeping, and divine as the way she entered each room and stole each gaze. Her words were unexpected, beautifully honest, and vulnerable. Shaken like the trembles responding to her voice and will. It was in reading her dedications, that you felt for the first time, your heart pang in adoring admiration, for anyone aside from Source herself.

Tonight as you were reading, as you had forsought - her lips met your heartbeats in the nape of your craning neck. You had grown so lost in her words that the impact of her warm flesh had startled you - like a snapping twig in the silent wood outside the Academy's grounds. Your body trembles like layered leaves, interrupted by her gust of wind, lifting up and guiding your movement towards her figure. You feel yourself sway and mark the page with your index as her fingers now clasped your cheek, leaning into it as the tides lean towards the moon. Natural. Surrender. You feel it deep within you and remember that by embracing your experience, as the Goddess had prompted you before, was a way you could honor both her and yourself, in utter pleasure… and desire.

"Z- elda…" you swallow breathlessly, not wanting her to stop as your heart flutters helplessly in your throat. You witness your tangled muscles relaxing at her touch, as your voice returns faltering at the preface of your lips "these entries are stunning"

The redhead lifts her mouth towards your ear, and the tenderness of your flesh shivers beneath it with careful urgency.

"As are you, little seer"

You feel your hands lift the book towards your desk, before releasing it on its surface to turn yourself quickly towards her. Your heart patters in racing tandem to the sudden burst of rain tapping rhythmically at your windows pane.

You turn yourself to face her before meeting your hands to hers, resting on your cheeks before pulling her into a swelling kiss. The way her hips press against you, brings you to sudden awareness of the natural rhythm in the way you moved together. The braiding together of instances in harmony, the progression of the prior lessons collecting towards this very moment, in apex - like the building of each rain cloud, erupting in release over Greendale.

You turn, she moves. You press, she shifts. It was as if every movement was as synchronized as the pendulum on the grandfather clock, well tuned and cadenced in its natural precession. The goosebumps you had felt before were now spread across your entire form as your body shivered against her touch. The collecting swells of the raindrops met as the touch of her palm. One of her hands immediately shifts to support the small of your back, which trembles and softens against it. The base of her palm meets your flesh, gentle, yet firm, warm and reassuring as she slips effortlessly beneath your blouse. Taking you in another breathless kiss. Her lips part, to allow her tongue to request meeting your craven taste on her pallet. It was clear to you more than ever, that she had wanted you. This every moment she spent with you beneath her gaze had been that of undeniable desire, and building pressure. 'Of…. course', you think to yourself, but in just the manners of her movement, you now know for certain.

"I think that's enough lessons for tonight"

Zelda's voice mulls softly, as her words feed into the vibration building at your teeth. You can't help but moan as your lips meet her shoulder in nipping, mewing desperation. Your hands pull needingly to have her closer to you, your whimpers in guiding gasps before your palms meet her breasts, clasping with a secured certainty that the trembling had seemed to release. Beckoning, your lips whisper a few words against her skin before she suddenly falls deep into your bed. The mix of desire between you both teleports you without notice to the safety of your quarters. The weight of your push and the sudden shift in location knocking her off her feet into the pillowing plush of crushed velvet. You climb it's preface, drifting to straddle on top of her, far more forward than encounters before. You press your lips to the seam of her blouse, aching her to remove it in the swiftness of her own enthralled passion. Seeing her sprawled across your bed, shifts a knowing in you. Your heartbeats together panged in your ears, your jaw guided in hungry kisses to meet her accented collar bones. Their beauty is like porcelain sweeping to meet her sculpted breasts. Her breaths rising and falling erratically, draw you closer into the nest of her arms. Pulling your weight towards her, you feel your legs tangle, aligned with the meeting and sharp pressure of your clits connecting.

The shock.

The connection is prevalent, like lighting's fire - tangible in the release of her harmonious moans linking with your own. Your desire so tangible, Zelda can hardly feel embarrassed with the rouge rising in her face. Her hands pull you close towards her hips, urging you to grind against her and provide little relief towards your building passion. Your kisses begin to grow as they travel across, and down each breast. Your hungering wetness, dampening her skin. With your breathless moans tracing her - Zelda is caught completely off guard and vulnerable the moment your soft lips draw, to bite her. Her pale breast purpling beneath your sucking lips, she gasped, in delicious ecstasy. The gorgeous yearning that devours her, tearing at the peak of her need for you. Zelda's skin rippled in goosebumps as her exposed abdomen tightens, a smirk attending to your hunger's liking. You find yourself growing far more exposed and domineering with her than ever before - and you can tell how completely off guard she has become, finding herself whimpering against your confident smirk.

What a shift.

You had never imagined you'd hear her whimper. The woman who seduced you with growing need, using just her eyes to send electricity through you, was beginning to tremble. Her fingers gripping your back, your teeth assist in removing and unclasping her lace bralette. Nothing with her was as you'd expected, you find yourself even more satisfied with the result unfurling before your eyes, her breasts spilling over, gaze hungering and desperate for your thighs movements up to grind against her precious heat.

Abridged and supported by her crying, frustrated moans, you remove her bra with a keenness, causing it to flutter against the dresser's surface, across the room from the two of you. The mirror reflecting your candlit bodies, she unzips the back of your dress, your swift, defiant movements pulling her delicate fingers away from the zipper as your lips take her breast in peaking proposal. Your tongue flits her nipple, the warm dampness of your tongue beckoning her to arch against it, as you take her sweet flesh into the hold of your mouth. Suckling in pleasurable hunger, your thigh draws down her covered core with gruesome, fracturing friction. You find the lace of her panties fits in perfect contrast to the soft ageless touch of your skin against her. The firm pressure in contrast to the delicate flesh that scathed her form, drawing her breaths inward - her energy enveloping you in gorgeous enthrall to pull you as close to her as your bodies can bare. You shift your mouth in time with her breaths, drawing inward towards the honest wetness of her fabric, closing in on her.

It is only then, that you pause for a brief moment to touch her thigh, your breath warm and tangible against her, your l fingertips, tweaking her nipple, sucking deeper to pull her breasts fullness towards your mouth. Her gasping moans echo your chambers as if they had longed to reverberate her sound.

The pleasure you feel in unbelievable, your own heat gasping in needing waves as you grind just as needily against the mattress in return to the response of her bucking mound.

It is then, that she flips you, your lips a moment away from capturing her craving heat. You are shocked, by the power burning within her. Her eyes are sharp and daggering, your dress splitting open as she lifts your hips to plunge her fingers into your dripping cunt. Dazed, your mouth trembles - unable to utter the "FUCK" sitting gutteral in your throat, her firm graising thumb streaking from your entrance to your clitoris. Her fingers spread then curl inside you, before her free hand grounds firmly next to your ear. You can feel your waves of panting met only by the slapping wetness of her palm at your core, her curling fingers pushing you quickly towards a blistering climax. 'So… soon…' you think, contracting her cunt against the pressure of her relentless fingers. It is now that your eyes meet hers, her needing eyes connecting to a depth within you never searched. The moans spilling from your lips in tongues unfamiliar. Your desperate hands grip the sheets and wrist at your crown, grinding back in restless tides. Your jaw tightens with baited breath, using everything in you not to come immediately. It is then that gloss covers your sweet dark eyes, erupting you in waves of pleasure as you spill out uncontrollably across her fingers.

Zelda licks her lips, pleased, and surprised at your body's response, slowing her thrusts to meet her upper lip to your bud, sliding her tongue between her digits inside, to taste you.

Her moan is earth shattering. The way it echoes up inside you enough to make you burn with intensity, in sensuous waves as your hips meet her to ride out your orgasm.

#zelda spellman x reader #caos fanfiction #zelda spellman #zelda spellman fanfiction #the chilling adventures of sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina #self insert #reader insert #miranda otto #Aligned fic #mine #fem reader #chapter 8

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Tell Me (NSFW)

Chapter 50 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3! ~5400 words; read here on AO3 instead.

In which Fenris and Rynne have some religious chit-chat and some sexy times in the Frostback Basin.

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Fenris took a sip of his ale, then set the stein aside and loosely wrapped his arms around his knees. At this hour of night, the treehouse camp was mostly quiet and still; Inquisition sentries spoke softly to each other as they patrolled each level of the sprawling structure, and half of Fenris’s companions had turned in for the night. One level below, Hawke was embroiled in a game of twenty-one with Bull and Varric while Sera variously encouraged and jeered at them, and Fenris could tell who had won each hand by the quality of their laughter as it floated up to the highest level of the treehouse every few minutes.

He tilted his head back to study the stars. The sky of the Frostback Basin was thick with them, twinkling like fireflies captured in the navy-blue net of night, and it was lovely enough for Fenris to nearly understand why the Avvar revered the sky so much that it warranted its own goddess.

The Lady of the Skies, he mused. But if the Avvar considered their Lady to be a goddess, that meant she was really just a spirit, if she truly existed at all.

Fenris frowned slightly at the thought. It was still odd to think that the Avvar revered spirits as gods and welcomed them so openly, given how feared they were in the rest of Thedas. Aside from in Tevinter and Nevarra, of course, where the necromancers and mortalitasi performed their dubious rituals.

He looked down at his left hand and studied the flickering in the fissures of his palm. It was also odd – and disturbing – to think that spirits in the Fade could track him down by virtue of the mark. To imagine that at this moment on the other side of the Veil, just a mere hairsbreadth of magic away, spirits were hovering near his hand and watching his every move, like ghoulish spectators at some kind of show…

He shifted his shoulders uneasily the thought, then closed his fist and leaned his head back once more to look at the stars. Truth be told, he was feeling quite drained by all this talk of spirits. Talking about spirits, talking to spirits, finding out that the Avvar gods were spirits… it raised so many questions about spirits and gods and… and religion in general. Questions that Fenris hadn’t been forced to think too much about before the Inquisition, back when his understanding of the world was far more clear-cut.

The more I learn, the less I know, he thought ruefully. It was an uncomfortable truth, and one that Fenris was still having trouble coming to terms with, even despite everything that he and Hawke had seen and done in the past few years. And not for the first time, he wished he could be as lighthearted as Hawke when it came to the unknown.

Her lightheartedness, Fenris thought, was one of the things about Hawke that had always struck him as strange and special. She was hardly the most knowledgeable person in Thedas, but she knew what she didn’t know, and she cheerfully acknowledged her own ignorance. When Hawke found out that she was wrong about something, she owned up to her incorrectness with a laugh. She was always happy to learn new things, incorporating new and seemingly insane information into her worldview as easily as though she was adding a new patch to a quilt.

Hawke certainly wasn’t ruminating about the nature of spirits and godhood, for instance. If anything, she seemed fascinated that the Avvar’s gods were simply spirits, and she was positively tickled by the Avvar’s respectful treatment of Cole. But this religious issue was different for Hawke. She didn’t believe in any gods at all, so questions of gods and mortals and reality and fiction were all purely academic to her. Fenris, on the other hand…

He ran his fingers through his hair. He still didn’t know where he stood when it came to Andraste and the Maker. Ever since he’d woken up with this damned anchor on his hand, he’d been forced to consider his own religious leanings more deeply than he had since his discussions with Sebastian back in Kirkwall. And some two-odd years later, Fenris still didn’t know where he stood.

He didn’t think he could be faulted for his confusion. After all, he’d been praised himself as Andraste’s holy herald, seen the Black City with his own two eyes, watched an Old God soul being taken from Kieran’s body, and met with an elven goddess wearing a human witch’s skin. The inconsistencies, the seemingly contradictory stories… of course Fenris didn’t know where he stood.

He sighed and stared blindly up at the sky. A moment later, he heard Hawke’s footsteps padding up the stairs to the platform where their little shared tent was pitched. “Hello, handsome,” she chirped. “Is there room on this platform for one more?” She plopped down beside him and started pulling off her boots.

He smiled faintly at her. Her breath was scented with ale, but her gaze was bright and alert, and he admired the smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as he replied. “There’s only room on this platform for the winner of your tournament of twenty-one,” he said.

She laughed and poked his arm. “I see how it is. I’ll fetch Bull to come and keep you company, then. I have it on good authority that he gives excellent cuddles.” She started to push herself to her feet.

Fenris grabbed her arm and pulled her back down with a smirk. “You are aware of why you constantly lose at that game, aren’t you? You always demand another card when you ought to hold. You always go over.”

She grinned and leaned into his side. “If you’re such an expert, why don’t you play with us?”

“Because Varric always fleeces me,” Fenris said dryly.

She laughed. “He does not! You always just lose because you don’t demand another card when you should. You always fall short.”

He casually lifted his stein to his lips. “An interesting perspective. I’ll consider it.”

She chuckled and settled her head on his shoulder, and they sat in a cozy silence for a moment.

Then she lifted her head and looked at him. “Seriously though. A royal for your thoughts?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I believe the expression is ‘a copper for your thoughts’.”

“I know,” she said. “But you’re so clever, your thoughts are worth an entire royal.”

He shot her a chiding look, then chuckled at her winsome smile. “Do you never tire of flattering me?”

“Never,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Rynne Hawke, Champion of Flattering Fenris.”

“That title is terrible,” he said. “No one will respect it.”

She grinned at him. “Fine then. What title should I have instead?”

Fenris thought for a moment, then smirked at her. “Rynne Hawke, Champion of Dirty Double-Entendre.”

She let out a throaty laugh. “Oh yes. I love that. I should have Josie order me a gilded plaque for our bedroom door.”

Fenris huffed in amusement, but before he could tease her any further, she reached up tweaked his earlobe. “Come on, Fenris, tell me what’s on your mind. I know you’ve been thinking about something serious up here all on your own.”

He shrugged. “It’s… nothing. It’s not important.”

“If it’s keeping you awake, then it’s not nothing,” she said.

He gazed at her sympathetic face for a moment, then sighed. “I was just thinking about… about gods, I suppose. What they are, and… whether they exist.”

Her eyebrows rose, and he hurried on before she could respond. “We know now that an elven god exists: this Mythal woman that we met. And the Old Gods of Tevinter existed; they were dragons that rose up as archdemons, so their existence is uncontested. The Avvar’s gods are spirits, so they exist. But…” He broke off, feeling rather sheepish about the next thing he was going to say.

Hawke saved him by saying it instead. “You’re wondering whether the Maker exists, too.”

He nodded. “Or… or something that corresponds to the Maker, I suppose. If Mythal and the Old Gods and the Avvar gods exist in some form, then… perhaps there is something that corresponds to a Maker, as well.”

“Could be,” Hawke said casually. “Maybe he’s just a spirit too.”

Fenris didn’t reply. He’d been circling around this idea himself, but he’d been reluctant to fully voice it for some reason.

When Hawke spoke again, her tone was tentative. “You don’t, er… Do you still think the Maker’s out there?”

He shrugged. “I… don’t know, Hawke. I have never known what to think. You know that.”

“I know,” she said softly. Then she smiled at him. “You know what’s funny? Andrastianism is the most powerful religion in the world, but it’s the only one we haven’t seen any evidence for yet. There’s a terrible sort of irony in that, don’t you think?”

Fenris huffed. “Of course you would find that funny.”

She laughed. “All right, not funny exactly. But I am thrilled that there’s no one who’s going to smite me for thinking such impure thoughts about that huge Andraste statue at the Kirkwall Chantry.” She held her hands out in a suggestive gesture. “You know, the one with the really shapely—”

Fenris tutted and pinched her waist, and she cackled before snuggling against his side once more. He draped his arm around her shoulders. “This really doesn’t bother you at all, does it?” he asked.

She lifted her head slightly. “What, the Maker maybe not really being a Maker after all?”

“Not… not just that,” Fenris said. “All of it. All of the gods. You were wrong too, after all.”

She tilted her head curiously, so Fenris went on. “You thought there was no such thing as any gods at all. But you were wrong. They do exist; they’re just not what everyone thought.”

She nodded an acknowledgement but didn’t speak, and her expression was expectant, like she was waiting for him to say something more. He shrugged and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I… I’m not sure what I am getting at. It just…” He gazed at her. “I envy your ability to take this all in stride.”

She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. “Well, it’s not like it changes anything for me. It’s not like I was shaping my life around religion or gods or anything, right?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Besides, if the gods are all just spirits or souls or whatnot, and Solas always said spirits are just conscious beings of a different type, then… gods are just people. They’re not special, they’re just people.” She grinned at him. “That’s interesting, isn’t it? The so-called gods are just as fallible as the rest of us.”

He raised his eyebrows at her blunt words. “And that comforts you?”

“I think it amuses me more than anything else,” she said.

Fenris frowned thoughtfully. “But… they aren’t like the rest of us. Those who are called gods have an uncommon degree of power, whether it’s literal magic like that Mythal woman or the pull of leadership like Corypheus. They aren’t truly like the rest of us.”

Hawke tilted her head. “Do you think they deserve the title of gods, then?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said. “It just… surprises me, I suppose. To think you are amused that those with such power also wield titles that place them on a higher pedestal. One that allows them to control others.”

Her expression became a bit wary. “That’s not what amuses me. I’m just amused by—”

“ —the irony of the situation,” Fenris finished. “I know.”

They fell quiet for a moment longer, and Fenris listened idly to the shifting leaves and the creak of nighttime insects as Hawke’s body heat seeped into his side. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet.

“You know, I keep thinking…” She trailed off, and Fenris looked at her quizzically.

“What?” he said.

She shot him a slightly apologetic look. “I keep thinking of Solas and what he’d think of all this.”

Fenris wilted slightly. “Ah.”

Hawke squeezed his arm. “Come on, you have to admit it would be sort of funny if he were here. He’d be so thrilled. An entire group of people who love spirits and welcome them and let them teach their mages? He’d be thrilled!”

Fenris didn’t reply, and Hawke blithely went on. “Actually, that reminds me — remember how we found all those inscriptions in the Hinterlands about Tyrdda Bright-Axe and the Lady of the Skies?”

“The Avvar poems?” Fenris said.

“Yes, those,” she said. “I don’t remember the details of those poems, but I do remember they referred to the Lady of the Skies as Tyrdda’s leaf-eared lover.”

Fenris smirked at her. “Of course that’s what you would…” Then he trailed off in his teasing and raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. The Lady of the Skies appearing as a ‘leaf-eared lover’?

He looked at Hawke. “The spirit took the form of an elf.”

She nodded and poked his arm. “Just like our lovely bald Solas. See, more evidence that we’re right about him! Well, that Dorian was right, really.”

Fenris frowned. “Hmm. That is interesting.”

“I know, right?” Hawke said brightly. “Imagine Solas being revered as a god. Can you imagine?” She snickered.

“I can, in fact,” Fenris said. “If he was seen as a god, everyone would have to listen to him.”

Hawke sobered somewhat at his acidic tone. “Well, that’s a bit unfair. I actually think he wouldn’t want to be seen as a god.”

Fenris grunted. “He had the arrogance of a god.”

“Hardly,” Hawke retorted. “I mean, yes, he had his little moments of being a know-it-all. But he backed down if we called him on it.”

Fenris shrugged and didn’t reply. Another moment of silence fell between them, but it was a bit awkward this time.

Once again, Hawke broke the silence. “I still think—”

Fenris sighed. “Hawke, please.”

“Look, I just don’t think he’s doing anything nefarious,” she said defensively. “I think it’s entirely possible he just went back home to the Fade.”

Fenris gave her an exasperated look. “Then how do you explain the last words he said to me? ‘No matter what happens’...”

She shrugged and dropped her gaze, just as Fenris knew she would; she’d never been able to come up with a truly convincing explanation for Solas’s ominous parting words to Fenris.

He ruthlessly pressed on. “And he wanted Corypheus’s orb. You can’t deny that. Why would he want that blasted orb?”

“It was old and elven,” she said. “He probably wanted it for the same reasons as Merrill would.”

“You know that doesn’t particularly comfort me,” Fenris said flatly.

She shot him a slightly resentful look, and an odd twist of annoyance and affection pulled at his heart. As much as Hawke’s sunny outlook was enviable, it was times like this that Fenris found her optimism frustrating: even when faced with clear evidence of wrongdoing or poor judgment, she was reluctant to see the worst in her friends. Anders, Merrill, Solas… even Isabela when she’d left Kirkwall for three years. Even Fenris himself, when he’d distanced himself from her for the same amount of time. She refused to see any of them as harmful, simply because she loved them.

She released his arm and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I think Solas just wanted to know more about the orb. Which elven god it belonged to, how it worked…”

“You think he was collecting knowledge,” Fenris said.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Like Merrill was trying to do.”

He ignored her pointed tone. “Knowledge is power,” he said. “Solas said that himself.”

Hawke wilted. “Fenris…”

He pressed on doggedly. “What did he want that power for?”

“Knowledge and power aren’t the same thing,” Hawke insisted. “Learning can just be for fun. Like my magical macaron recipe, for example. Now that I’ve perfected it, I can basically snap my fingers over some sugar and eggs and almonds and have a plate of macarons.” She gave him a knowing look. “You have to admit, that’s pretty fucking fun.”

Fenris tried to scowl at her; really he did. But the image of her standing in Skyhold’s kitchens, snapping her fingers repeatedly and materializing plates of macarons…

He couldn’t help himself: a little snort of laughter escaped him. He rubbed his mouth to mask it, but it was too late.

Hawke grinned and pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Ah-ha! A smile. I knew it was hiding there somewhere.” She pinched his chin playfully.

He tutted and dodged away from her hand. “Fasta vass. You will truly be the death of me.”

“That’s a shame,” she said cheerfully. “Because that smile of yours brings me to life.”

He shot her an incredulous look, then laughed more openly. “Now who is the smooth talker?”

She giggled. “I learned from the best. Now come on, let’s get some rest. Big day tomorrow of slogging along the riverbank and killing giant spiders.”

He huffed – she wasn’t wrong about that – then followed her into their little tent. A few minutes later, Fenris was stretched out on their camp bed while Hawke extinguished the little alchemical lamp.

She slipped under the covers and rubbed his bare foot with hers. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Sleep well,” he murmured. He let out a long, relaxed breath and folded his arms behind his head.

A few minutes later, just as his mind was starting to settle from its usual buzz of thoughts, Hawke spoke into the darkness of the tent. “Fenris?”

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He turned his head and gave her an odd look. “Of course,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”

In the dimness of the tent, he could see the shape of her shoulder as she shrugged. “Just checking,” she said. She shuffled closer to him and slid her bare leg over his thigh, then pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss.

He let his eyes drift shut once more. Hawke’s kisses were soft and slow, more a caress of the lips than a true firm kiss, and Fenris followed her lead, parting his lips slightly when she gently kissed his lower lip.

Her lush lower lip brushed between his own. He nipped her lip very lightly, and she gasped.

It was a soft gasp; a tiny intake of air, but a very telling one, especially when she pressed her groin to his hip at the same time.

His eyes popped open. He hadn’t realized she was in the mood, given the chaste quality of her kisses.

He slid his hand beneath her loose linen shirt and over her hip, and to his surprise, she moaned into his lips.

He pulled away slightly to look at her. “Do you–?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she breathed. She rolled away from him onto her back and pressed her knuckles to her lips.

He rolled onto his side to face her. “Why are you apologizing? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” she said. “I just…” She let out a breathy little laugh. “You must be tired. I don’t want to… It’s just been a while since we, um, went to bed at the same time.”

He frowned slightly. It was true that he’d been coming to bed later and rising earlier than Hawke for some time now, but it had just become a part of their routine. This was the first time she was mentioning it.

“Is that a problem?” he said.

“Not a problem,” she said hurriedly. “You’re busy, you have busy – important things to do. It’s… it’s nothing.”

He frowned at her more deeply. Then he pressed his fingers against the apex of her thighs.

She arched instantly into his hand, and he stopped breathing for a moment. She was already so wet that her smallclothes were damp, even though all they’d done was kiss.

He slid his fingers over the damp fabric of her smalls. “This is not nothing,” he told her.

She moaned softly. “F-fuck…”

“Do you want me?” he whispered.

“Of course I want you,” she blurted.

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

She let out a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know. It’s been a while, I didn’t want to pressure you.”

He paused in his stroking. Had it really been that long? When had they last had sex? Was it… two weeks ago, perhaps? He wasn’t sure.

He looked at her. “When was the last time?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she breathed. She lifted her hips toward his hand. “Fenris, please…”

He refused to move his fingers. “How long ago, Hawke?”

She released another tremulous breath. “A month, give or take,” she murmured. “Maybe. Something like that.”

He gaped at her in surprise. Had it really been that long? He hadn’t… how had he not realized it had been that long?

He pressed his fingers between her legs again. “Well, we should rectify that.”

She jerked her hips eagerly, but her words belied her body. “You don’t have to,” she gasped. “I don’t want you to–”

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down to the hardening bulge in his leggings. “Do you think I would do this if I didn’t want to?” he whispered.

She didn’t reply; she was too busy rubbing her palm over his hardness. Her fingers slid along the margins of his cock, and Fenris indulged himself in the sweet pressure of her fingers for a moment before pushing her hand aside.

She whimpered in protest, but the protest was short-lived; he was crawling over her now and pushing her thighs apart, and before he’d even settled between her legs, she was gasping fitfully and lifting her hips in anticipation.

He peeled her smallclothes down. A liquid thread of arousal stretched between the fabric and her folds, and for some reason, his heart fluttered painfully at the sight. Seeing Hawke so ready for him, wanting him so badly despite barely a touch… It made his chest ache for some reason.

Worse yet was the thought of her wanting him like this every night. The thought of Hawke waiting for him to come to bed, then keeping her wants to herself as he collapsed onto their mattress before rising just a few hours later and leaving her alone…

A lump rose to his throat. He swallowed hard, then tossed her smallclothes aside and ran his tongue between her legs.

She jammed her fist against her mouth and jerked her hips, and Fenris grasped her thighs as he lapped up the sweetness of her musk. He tasted her thoroughly, treating her lower lips as though he was kissing her mouth, and although her sounds were muffled by her fist, the language of her body was more than clear enough. She twisted her hips slowly when he smoothed his tongue lightly over her clit, so he continued to lick her gently, stroking her swollen little bud until her writhing told him that she wanted a firmer touch.

When she rose to her peak a mere minute later, her fingers scrabbled down over the planes of her belly to scratch her skin, and Fenris reached for her hand. She grabbed his hand, digging her fingernails into his palm as she shuddered with pleasure, and he carefully brought her through her rapture until her fingers loosened in his palm.

A moment later, she was sliding out from beneath him and pushing him back, plucking at his tunic and his leggings at the same time, and Fenris’s breathing grew harsh as her obvious desperation fed his own desire. With Hawke’s overeager help, he freed himself from his clothes without dislodging her from his lap. She dragged her shirt off and threw it aside, and then she was clutching his shoulders and rocking her wetness over his length.

He braced one hand on the bedroll and pulled her eagerly against his cock. “Hawke,” he rasped. “Please–”

She lifted her hips and adjusted his cock, then came down hard on his lap. Surprised and pleasured by the hardness of her thrust, he just barely managed to muffle his groan of pleasure by biting the side of her neck.

“Fuck,” she gasped. She craned her neck to the side to give him better access, all the while digging her fingers into his shoulders as she rolled against his hips in a hard grind, and Fenris breathed hard against her neck, silencing himself against her salty skin as the rapid rise and fall of her hips brought his lust roaring to life.

A rapturous minute later, she released his right shoulder and slowed down to a stop, and Fenris opened his eyes. “Do you want to switch?” he panted.

“No,” she breathed. She lowered her left hand between her legs. “I want to touch myself while I fuck you.”

Her blunt words lit a fresh flare of want low in his belly, and he shamelessly watched as she parted the curls between her legs. She pressed the swollen bud of her clit with the flat of her fingers, holding her breath and holding still on his lap as she petted herself, and Fenris’s hungry gaze darted from her hand to her face, his entire body tense as he tried to control his rising impatience.

A torturous minute later, her face twisted into an expression of utter rapture. She gasped loudly, then burst out a sob. “Fenris–”

He kissed her hard and thrust into her even harder. He could feel her pleasure cries echoing in his mouth, heightening his impatience to a fever pitch. A second later she was riding him hard and fast, and the force of their fucking and the sheer obviousness of her desire was driving him swiftly toward his peak.

She broke away from his lips and clasped his neck. Without slowing in her zealous rhythm, she pressed her forehead to his. “I love you,” she breathed.

“I know,” he rasped. “I – I know, Hawke. You…” He broke off with a soft moan as she ground herself firmly against his lap.

She stroked his neck her thumbs. “I know you know,” she whispered. “I just…” She kissed him again before speaking in a breathless voice. “It feels like a while since I said it.”

He shot her a brief odd look. She’d just told him she loved him earlier this evening.

She pressed her lips to his cheekbone and trailed her fingers down his chest, and that’s when he realized what she really meant. This was her way of saying it. This was how and when Hawke showed him that she loved him: by stroking his arms and his chest and showing how much she cherished his every scar and line. By lifting him to peaks he would never have otherwise had, and by kissing his lips and breathing her love against his ear in the throes of their mutual pleasure.

The love they made together was how Hawke told him she loved him. And it always had been, ever since their first time over ten years ago.

He slid his palms up her sweat-laced back and brushed his lips to hers. “Fuck me hard,” he whispered.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “My pleasure. Literally,” she purred. A moment later, she was rising and falling on his lap in a frenzied rhythm, her gasping breaths ghosting across his ear while he panted against her shoulder, and his climax was climbing, roiling and building between his legs until it finally burst through his limbs in a shock of ecstasy.

Mired in the pulsing of his pleasure, he mindlessly bit her shoulder. She gasped and fucked him even harder until he ran his hands down her back and squeezed her waist.

She carefully slowed to a stop, then rested her cheek against his temple with a happy sigh. Her arms were still around his neck, and Fenris lazily ran his palm along her tattooed back and inhaled the sandalwood scent of her skin as their sweat started to cool.

She brushed her lips gently over his ear, then nibbled the tip of his ear with her lips, and he smirked and tilted his head away. “That tickles,” he murmured.

She chuckled and nuzzled his ear again. “But your ear is so tasty.”

He grumbled, and she giggled again before starting to shift off of his lap. “All right. Now that you’ve fucked me so nicely, I think I’m going to fall right asleep–”

He grasped her hips to keep her on his lap. “Rynne,” he said.

She stopped and met his gaze, and he carefully brushed her damp bangs back from her forehead. “You can tell me when you want me,” he said quietly.

She laughed and idly brushed her fingers along his collarbone. “What a silly thing to say. I always want you.”

“Then you can always tell me,” he said.

She smiled and shrugged. “But I’m always gagging for it and I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

Her gaze was downcast despite her smile. Fenris tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You think it would make me feel bad to be told that my wife desires me?” he said.

“No, no,” she said hastily. “I mean…” She licked her lips nervously, then sighed. “I don’t want to make you feel guilty. We both know you’re busy. We can’t… sex isn’t going to happen as often as it used to,” she said bluntly. “And that’s fine, it’s just the way it is. But I don’t want you to feel guilty when you’re not in the mood.”

He brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw. “And I don’t want you to feel like you are alone.”

Her gaze dropped again, and she laughed lightly. “Look who you’re talking to. I’m never alone.”

He gazed at her seriously for a moment. She could deflect as much as she wanted, but he knew that he was right about her feeling lonely sometimes, especially since Varric and Dorian had left.

“Tell me when you want me,” he insisted. “I want to hear it. Even if I am tired or preoccupied, tell me anyway.”

She shrugged. She was still smiling, and her eyes were still on her fingers as they trailed across his collarbone. “And then what?”

“Then we will see,” he said. “Maybe we’ll make love. Maybe I can watch you while you pleasure yourself. Maybe nothing will come of it. But if you tell me, then I can tell you in return.”

“Tell me what?” she asked.

“That I love you,” he replied.

Her eyes finally returned to his face, and a smile lit her lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” she said. “Can you say it again?”

He tsked and pinched her waist, and she squeaked with laughter and smacked his hand. A moment later, they were curled together under the covers, and Fenris could just make out her cheeky grin in the darkness of the tent.

She stroked his chin gently with her thumb. “Come on, tell me again,” she murmured.

He huffed. “I love you, Hawke. Even when you’re an idiot.”

She laughed softly and tucked her knee carefully between his legs. “I love you too, you handsome fool,” she whispered.

Fenris smirked, then kissed her smiling lips. Hawke could smile and joke if she liked, but Fenris knew the fears that lived behind the cheeky curl of her grin. To counter those fears, he would tell her he loved her every day. She would tell him when she wanted him, and he would tell her of his love, and they would walk through the rest of their days knowing neither of them would ever be alone.

#fenris #fenris smut #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenris the inquisitor #fenquisition #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #jaws of hakkon #joh dlc

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quoteoftheweekblog · 3 years

Text

QUOTATIONS - BERNADINE EVARISTO’S ‘GIRL, WOMAN, OTHER’ (FIRST PUBLISHED 2019)

First sentence:

‘Amma’ (Evaristo, 2019).

On life:

‘ ... ageing is nothing to be ashamed of

especially when the entire human race is in it together’ (*Evaristo, 2019, p.4).

‘we could either decide to be crushed by the weight of history, and modern-day atrocities, or we could go into warrior pose’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.59).

‘life is an adventure to be embraced with an open mind and loving heart’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.118).

‘this was not going to be a walk in the park, but life was not a walk in the park ... ‘ (Evaristo, 2019, p.174).

On feminism:

‘feminism is so herd-like ... to be honest, even being a woman is passe these days ... I reckon we’re all going to be non-binary in the future, neither male nor female, which are gendered performances anyway, which means your women’s politics, Mumsy, will become redundant ... ‘ (Evaristo, 2019, p.39).

‘ ... trust me, don’t believe all that Mother Earth bullshit, I’ve been around enough of these women’s communities to know these witches are as malevolent as any other person out there’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.90).

‘ ... full-time housewife and full-time job, the downside of the Women’s Liberation Movement’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.219).

On politics:

‘Come Back Barack!’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.42).

On academia:

‘he mumbles stuff about the Internet of Things and Pokemon, terrorism and global politics, ‘Breaking Bad’ and ‘Game of Thrones’ and then threw in quotes he attributed to Derrida and Heidegger for good measure, which he always does when he can’t handle a tricky situation.’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.46).

On education:

‘ ... she wasn’t planning on doing any reading for her Art History course because - guess what? ... the truth is that I commission my essays from a retired academic’ (Evaristo, 209, p.71).

‘you see, maths is a process of discovery ... it is like the exploration of space, the planets were always there, it just took us a long time to find them’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.121).

‘she didn’t see the point in studying when it didn’t make you happy (swots were miserable and had no dress sense) and too much studying wears your brain out (scientific fact)’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.191).

‘ ... National Curriculum! league tables! lesson plans!

all of which left no room for responding to the fluctuating needs of a classroom of living, breathing, individualized children’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.235).

On punctuation:

‘ ... - rumour has it that a stray or absent comma has yet to be detected’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.142).

On readings groups:

‘she and the reading group had a big argument, no, it wasn’t no argument, it was a debate, the other day, about whether a poem was good because they related to it, or whether it was good in and of itself

Bernadette said it was up to literature specialists to decide what was good, they only knew whether they liked something or not

Winsome agreed, she wasn’t no expert

Celestine said poetry was made deliberately difficult so that only a few clever people could understand it as a way to keep everyone else in the dark

Hazel said novels was better value than poetry books because they had more words in them, poetry books was a rip-off

(Winsome doesn’t think Hazel should be in their reading group)

Dora said there was no such thing as objective truth and if you think something’s good because it speaks to you

it is

why should Wordsworth or Whitman, T.S. Eliot or Ted Hughes mean anything special to we people of the Caribbean?

Winsome made a note to go to the library to look those names up’ (Evaristo, 2019, p.254).

REFERENCE

Evaristo, B. (2019) 'Girl, woman, other'. Amazon.com [E-book]. Available at: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Girl-Woman-Other-WINNER-BOOKER/dp/0241984998/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=girl+woman+other+evaristo&qid=1605543981&s=books&sr=1-1 (Accessed 16 November 2020).

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luninosity · 6 years

Note

OMG Luni!! I just got the email with your update!! Congrats on the contract with JMS!!! You'll have to let us know when it's up for pre-order! I'm so happy for you!! 😙😙😙 I also can't wait to have not one but TWO physical books of yours!! (sorry for all the exclamation points but I'm so excited it was all I could do to not type this whole thing in caps 😂😜)

I AM SO EXCITED I CANNOT EVEN *waves hands about madly*

Okay but like

this has been the BEST year in one very specific way, namely book contracts and publishing!

And also here is the current opening of the sequel, so only read AFTER you’ve read this one... :D :D

“I’m inlove with him,” David Stanton announced, “and he’s not happy,” and finished offhalf his beer.

Hisyounger brother’s matching pint paused mid-air. “We are talking about Colin,right, because—”

“Yes!”

“Oh, good,because this would’ve been a much angrier conversation otherwise. I like Colin.” Brian set the glass downand frowned at him. So did his half-pastrami and onion rings; they collectivelydisapproved of his shortcomings. The entire sandwich shop, bright under greenawnings and frequented by just about everyone in the neighborhood, leaned sunnyyellow walls and home-brewed craft beer in to eavesdrop.

“I know,”David said to them all, and put his own poor underappreciated pint on the tableand put his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. “I know.” He gotthe irony, too. Of the two of them, Brian’d been the dramatic one: the wilderchildhood, the rashness, the forays into hexweed and once or twice worse drugs,while David had steadily bailed him out, helped get him through school, and concurrentlyrun the white-witch and neighborhood healer’s shop. They’d grown up andswitched places somehow, very recently, three months recently in fact.

Thisjudgment was a bit unfair. He knew it was. Brian these days put minor empathicskills to use as a counselor, primarily for troubled new-to-magic teens, andhad his own apartment and a healthy amount of admiration from various socialworkers and civil authorities. That recklessness lay in the past. David’s ownrecklessness, apparently, had only been biding its time.

Brian was a counselor, he thought. Good: hislittle brother could damn well counsel.

And hadexcellent if annoying instincts. “Why do you think he’s not happy? We’re goingto come back to the whole love part. You. You being head over heels in love. Imean, wow. But anyway Colin first.”

“Colinfirst.” David emerged from behind his hands. Didn’t even bother poking back,after the teasing. He wasn’t romantic. He knew that too. “Of course he comesfirst. I don’t know what to do.”

Threemonths ago David had brought home an actual therianthrope. A propershapeshifter, brimming over with innate natural magic. Stunningly rare. Exceptional.Only maybe thirty in the world. Astonishing even for a witch; especially so fora local unremarkable witch.

He’dthought he was rescuing a lost kitten in the rain. He’d found Colin Rue,pretty-eyed and mischievous and wounded and stunningly dazzlingly kind.

He’d knownwho Colin was, at least once his new kitten’d decided to trust him and transformedinto a human-shaped vision of enticing long-legged winsomeness. He’d heard afew of those rumors. Fireflower drops, parties, decadent kept-kitten nights, apet of wealthy and charming and seductive sorcerers and warlocks andenchantresses. Bartering those magical reserves, that natural power-source, forsex and luxury and lavish living.

He’d neverexpected Colin Rue to be scared, and brave, and generous under much-practicedflippancy.

Even if hehad he’d not’ve expected Colin to want to stay with him. Not with anyone. Notafter—

Davidgritted teeth and held back fireball-related urges every time he thought of it.Even now.

He staredat his sandwich. Surreptitiously drew a tiny inkless sketch on his napkin: nota fire but a scorch-mark. It made him feel marginally better, and then worse,because normally he prided himself on having control.

Good olderbrother. Local witch. Advice-dispenser. Nice person. Reliable.

He drew another tiny scorch-mark beside thefirst.

#worrisomeme #kitten and witch #replies #SO EXCITED #original fic #yay!

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enchantedchocolatebars · 25 days

Text

A small snippet from Chapter 3 (Bardie Girl) of my big chapter fic "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human" (Fic is very canon divergent).

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

A fun piece.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Synopsis

(They'll be no more sneak peeks for the chapter after this. My next goal going forward is to get chapter 3 out! <3 Enjoy! ❤️)

Once upon a time, in a fantastical fantasy realm that was akin to a small girl's dream, there lived a princess.

One glorious afternoon, as the gentle glow of the sun shone brightly in the mesmerizing blue sky, a single cottage castle could be seen standing tall in the center of the forest.

A pair of bluebirds then fly upward into view from below, holding a white banner between their beaks that reads 'Princess Clara's Castle' for a moment before taking off, a trail of clear magic dust fluttering behind them.

The castle resembled a standard cottage home, with white and grey stones used for its exterior construction, but what differentiated it from others was its royal structure.

Inside, Princess Clara slept soundly beneath the comfort of her soft and woolly comforter, dreaming a lovely dream as a cozy smile rested upon her soft and tender face.

While the princess continues to sleep, her bedroom door creaks open as a small group of critters from the forest enter inside.

These cute critters consisted of birds, rabbits, deer, chipmunks, squirrels, and raccoons.

The fauna were her companions and inhabited the castle with her.

As the diverse group of animals crowd together closely around Princess Clara's bedside, a doe lightly nuzzles her cheek with her nose in an attempt to gently wake her.

As the princess slowly opens her eyes, she gets a glimpse of her friends surrounding her bed and lets out the gentlest of laughs.

"Good morning, everyone," she softly greets with a yawn and stretches as she turns to look at the time on her handmade wooden wall clock.

"Well, afternoon," Princess Clara corrects herself with a sheepish smile on her face, rubbing the back of her head with one hand.

Although the princess didn't mean to be such a sleepyhead, she could never resist the temptations of her warm bed.

"Who's hungry?" she asked her animal friends, putting aside her embarrassment for now.

"I'll make up for sleeping in so late with some brunch. How does that sound?"

The offer caused the eyes of the critters to light up with joy as they accepted with nods, causing Princess Clara to giggle in her hand as she sat up.

"Then it's settled," she said, stepping out of bed and dancing across her floorboards on her tippy toes toward her closet while she hummed a merry tune.

Princess Clara's feathery companions tweeted the catchy melody of the song with her, their voices harmonizing beautifully.

Two of them flew over to open her closet door for her, helping the princess slip into one of her favorite house dresses while tossing her nightgown into the hamper.

Now dressed for the day, Princess Clara dips and twirls out of her room and into the kitchen, her forest friends happily following behind her.

...

"Hmm," Princess Clara hummed to herself in thought, tapping her chin with her index finger as she stood in front of her dainty stove, a frying pan sitting on top, as fresh veggies and oil sat on her counter.

Her animal friends, also in the kitchen, were eating their feed of mixed berries that she had prepared for them and placed in pretty porcelain bowls.

"What goes good with fresh veggies?" she whispered.

Tweet, tweet!

Shifting her sights to her open window sill, Princess Clara spots the pair of bluebirds who were holding her banner in the beginning, fluttering over with eggs well wrapped in silk.

The eggs are gently placed on the counter alongside the veggies and oil as the birds took their place on her window sill.

"Oh, eggs! Of course!" Princess Clara exclaims excitedly, finding the answer to her question as she cracks a smile, just like she was planning on cracking those eggs.

"Thank you," the princess told the two birds, who both received gentle rubs to the skin behind their beaks from her as they happily chirped.

With a gentle clearing of her throat, Princess Clara gracefully twirls in place, placing a hand on her chest, and begins to sing lyrics to a theme.

While singing, the princess twirls for a second time, holding out her index finger for one of the bluebirds.

One decides to flap over and step onto it, joining Princess Clara for a lovely duet.

As the caroling continues, the two take turns.

When Princess Clara hits a high note, she allows the bluebird to do the same.

The princess keeps hitting higher and higher notes, and the bluebird struggles to keep up with her.

As the theme comes to a close, Princess Clara hits an ear-piercing high note that causes the bluebird to gradually bloat up and explode.

The princess's eyes widen in shock at this as her animal companions who had witnessed the small explosion gasp.

Horrified looks filled the room.

...

"... And there!" Princess Clara said, carefully slipping the small sweater she had knitted with the assistance of her animal friends onto the bluebird who had previously exploded and was now featherless.

The sweater fit like a glove and had a few of his feathers nicely glued on to it.

When the bluebird gazed down at his new outfit, he instantly let out a chirp in delight, hopping in place.

"Yay! He likes it!" Princess Clara cheered brightly, her animal friends joining her.

Placing her index finger under the bluebird's foot, the princess lifts gently as the bird steps onto her finger and proceeds to perch.

She starts to rub her cheek against the side of his face, causing him to chirp softly at the affection.

"I'm so sorry about that," Princess Clara whispered, soft sincerity weaving through her voice.

She believed that his feathers would eventually return over time.

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enchantedchocolatebars · 30 days

Text

A short synopsis of the first half of Chapter 3 (Bardie Girl) of my big chapter fic "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human" (which is very divergent from canon).

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

A fun piece.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

(Only sharing the first half to avoid big spoilers, lol).

Synopsis:

As the gentle glow of the afternoon sun shines brightly in the blue sky, Princess Clara sleeps soundly beneath the comfort of her soft and woolly comforter, dreaming a lovely dream as a cozy smile rests upon her soft and tender face inside her cottage castle.

While the princess sleeps, her critter companions from the forest who reside within the castle are getting ready to wake her up.

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enchantedchocolatebars · 4 days

Text

Was really planning on posting Chapter 3 of "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human", today, but I'm glad that I at least got this out.

With the chapter for the initial fic, I plan on posting that sometime next week before the end of April. I've been taking my time writing it since I want my first ever main fic to be really good and something that most people who already like the fics that I put out enjoy (if that makes sense, lol).

But yeah.

Also, except a special poll on May 1st for an event question that I want to ask for June.

Speaking of May, I'LL TRY MY BEST TO MAKE SURE THAT IT'S A MONTH WHERE I GET A LOT OF WRITING STUFF DONE (answering requests, posting even more ao/3 stuff, etc) since I don't have something big planned for Mer/may.

Or do I ~ ?

Just kidding, I really don't, but I might post a headcanon or two for the event.

Who knows!

#choco.txt #a winsome witch and a happy human #toh fanfic #fanfic tog

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enchantedchocolatebars · 2 months

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Writing Schedule (Based on this poll) ✍️ ✅️

Monday 2 / 19 - Ao3 uploads (Here)

Tuesday 2 / 20 - Ao3 uploads (Here)

Wednesday 2 / 21 - Ao3 uploads (Here)

Thursday 2 / 22 - "A Lucky Woman Living Her Dreams" (Based on this commission art. Requested by no one, it's purely self-indulgent, lol.) (Here)

Friday 2 / 23 - "If You Give A Monster Man A Cookie" (Based on this commission art. Requested by no one, it's purely self-indulgent, lol.) (Here)

Saturday 2 / 24 - Break. (Requested by me, lol).

(ALSO @ READERS WHO ARE WAITING FOR Chapter 2 of "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human" I'm hoping to have it finished sometime next week. I HOPE. WORKING HARD.)

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enchantedchocolatebars · 3 months

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A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human Chapter 1: (Our Story Begins)

Written by 💕 enchantedchocolatebars 🍫 (me lol).

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

Chapter 1 snippet here.

Chapter 2 here.

Enjoy ! <3

(The other chapters will be linked here.)

(If you enjoy my shorter works, I highly recommend that you start reading this fic series as it will have twice the amount of words and effort put into it, and will be my main focus going forward. It's a charming tale that is very Disney-like about how Caleb and my wittewife oc, Clara, came together. Although they don't appear in this chapter, they will appear in the subsequent ones. I appreciate any and all feedback if you are interested in sharing or sending any. Being that this is my first ever chapter fic, I'll be promoing and reblogging about it a lot.)

Even though the Titan did enjoy watching his living son from the floating cubes that drifted around in the realm known as the In Between as doing so gave him the opportunity to watch his son grow up, he also liked spending time with his unhatched children.

Tonight was family game night.

“So,” the Titan began, smiling what was a close approximation to a smile down at his three little titan eggs who were sitting in front of him in a pool of shallow water.

Egg number one wore a pink bow, egg number two wore a blue baseball cap, and egg number three wore an egg-sized ‘Bad Girl Coven’ t-shirt, which matched with the one its father wore.

Reaching behind his back, the Titan happily pulled out two board game boxes.

The box in his left hand had a picture of a checkerboard, while the other displayed the image of a black king chess piece.

“What game should we play tonight?” he asked his egglings, not expecting them to give him a verbal answer as he had the ability to comprehend them without verbalization.

He holds up the first option. “Checkers?” He lists off, shaking the box some before bringing it down and lifting up the second option, repeating the process. “Or chess?”

The eggs, of course, stayed silent about the choices, but still communicated to their papa.

“…,”

The Titan couldn’t contain the buoyant laughter that decided to bubble up out of his chest when he heard them.

“Very well,” he said with a second chuckle, stowing the checkers box behind his back once again before using a single beckoning gesture of his finger to raise a table from below the shallow surface of the water.

Once the Titan sets the chess box down on the table, he opens it and takes out the board before laying it out.

“We’ll start with chess first and play checkers afterward. I’ll even throw in an extra game just for the fun of it,” he tells his eggs with a tender smile, placing the black and white chess pieces in their proper places.

He puts the pawns in front, then lines up the other pieces symmetrically with the king and queen in the middle.

Next, the Titan walks over and, with extra care and very gentle claws, picks up his little eggling in the blue baseball cap.

Heading over to its chair, he produces a plump white pillow from thin air onto it and carefully sets it down.

Two more plump pillows are conjured across from the table as the Titan picks up his other two eggs and settles them down on their seats.

They were going to watch their papa play against their sibling in a match.

Upon taking his seat at the table, the Titan casts a sunny smile across his scruffy face as he gazed at his child.

"I know this is your first time playing chess," he began in a kind and understanding voice before continuing.

"So I'll share with you what I know."

"...," went the egg to its father.

Such an innocently childlike response led to the Titan's soft chuckle, his bony smile reaching all the way up to his round, hollow eyes.

"Don't worry," he reassured to his unhatched egg softly.

"I'll explain all the basics to you, and we'll start slowly and take our time while playing."

Chess was a challenging and complex game, he knew that.

The Titan wasn't very fond of the classic board game at first when he first started playing it with a human man with blonde hair and a forelock.

However, as their games progressed and the man taught him the basics, his liking for it increased.

"...?" asked the egg.

The Titan nodded. "Promise," he said as their chess lesson began.

The two most crucial pieces in the game are reached for by clawed hands.

"See these two guys here?" The Titan asked his egg, holding the pieces in his hand before continuing.

"In chess, we call them kings. Each player only gets one, and they're the most important pieces in the game. You want to attack your opponent's king while also keeping your own king safe and protected."

King.

Safe.

Protected.

The Titan's mind was filled with memories of his oldest son.

He sighs of bliss from the memories before continuing with his explanation.

"Once the king is captured, the game ends, so always remember to keep him shielded."

As the Titan lists off the other pieces, he points at them.

"Each player controls 16 pieces: 8 pawns, 2 bishops, 2 knights, 2 rooks, 1 king, and 1 queen."

"...?"

Papa Titan chuckles.

"The knights are the little horse heads, and the rooks are the little castle towers," he told his little one.

"Each chess piece has its own unique way of moving across the board and potentially capturing your opponent's pieces as it goes."

He points at the pawns.

"Pawns have the ability to move one square forward per turn, except for their first turn when they have the ability to move two squares forward. Pawns move diagonally forward by capturing other pieces diagonally. They cannot move backwards."

After explaining the other pieces to his egg in great detail, Papa Titan moves on to the gameplay and strategy.

...

"... And that's the game!" The Titan finishes his final statement with a grin.

Hands are placed on his hips.

"Sounds simple, right?"

"...," the egg said otherwise as a multitude of thoughts swirled inside its shell.

The Titan nodded with complete understanding of the overwhelming feeling.

"It's a lot to take in, but I think you can do it," he gently encouraged with a fatherly smile before continuing.

"Since you're just starting out, focus on always protecting your king, and you'll do just fine."

He gestures for the egg to make the first move.

As soon as he blinks, he observes that a white pawn has moved two spaces forward.

The Titan smiles, doing the same with his black one.

Upon the second blink, his eyes detect an advanced white king on the board, causing him to let out a jolly laugh.

"You're already a natural at this," he complimented, moving his knight.

Blinking, he notices that his child has pushed his king piece up a space.

In response, the Titan opened up a rook by pushing a pawn.

After more pieces are pushed, the Titan blinks again and sees that he's been checkmated.

He gives a playful laugh. "Well, that was certainly fun! You win!"

A hand hovers over the egg, gently patting the top part of its shell. "Good job."

...

After family game night concluded, the three eggs, who were now wearing small night caps that fit them just right, were curled up in bed under a thick comforter together as their father entered their room with a light brown hardcover book tucked under his arm.

"I'm hope you're all ready for tonight's story," he began, his voice so soft and tender as he took a seat in the rocking chair in the middle of the room.

"Because it's one of my favorites," he reveals with a gentle chuckle, showing off the cute cover to his children.

It was adorned with a gold border as scatters of sparkles and hearts were displayed in the background.

A happy human dressed in a pink suit and a winsome witch dressed in a blue gown were in the foreground, their respective palismen on each of their shoulders.

Behind them was another human with a beard, angrily spying on them in a bush with a bird perched on his head.

"It's titled 'A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human'," The Titan read as he opened the book and turned to the first page.

"Our story begins in Bonesborough..."

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