#and are 'true elves' whatever that means

[aleroin]

"I'm tired, I'm not gonna stay up" has turned into "there is no time, there is only Merrill"

#OOC / HOLLY. #I'm putting myself to bed I DO need to sleep #listen tho — Merrill having a bit of an accidental superiority complex around being Dalish is something that is so rarely addressed #but so good to explore and have challenged #she doesn't even realize it's there #which does allow it to get ugly in her worst moments #i.e. if you're on a rivalry path with her and do Feynriel's quest in Act II she has some nasty things to say #I don't think that's who she is at heart but we see this ingrained kind of 'Dalish ways are the true ways' attitude in other places #it's the sort of thing that if left unchallenged will fester #going back to Feynriel — she doesn't talk that way if she's on a friendship path and is in a better place mentally + emotionally #she also doesn't talk that way in Act I where she's bout ready to throw hands with Vincento #so it's a matter of like 'here's a thing I was raised with and have never known differently.' #'if I go down a bad path and don't challenge it it will fester and eat me from the inside' #she does think of all elves as her people / part of the People but she was definitely raised to believe that #their way is the only way to be a True Elf and that the People have lost their way #that the only way they'll get the Creators to hear their prayers again is if they prove they haven't forgotten everything #and are 'true elves' whatever that means #which also something she has to challenge. like what does that even mean what does it look like etc #I'm veering off topic tho #everything circles back to the eluvian and how there is a I suppose religious motivation to her conviction #GOOD NIGHT see y'all tomorrow

[comicaurora]

do you have any tips on writing soft magic systems? I only ever see them talked about when people are comparing it to hard magic systems or criticising it, which is a shame because I love systems where magic is just in the background being unimportant, with implied rules that will never be explained

god I wrote up like eight paragraphs of explanation and I was really working out some cool stuff there and then the app glitched and destroyed it all and I'm so upset

Unfortunately this reduces to a previous problem, which is "figure out how Tolkien did it and then do that."

Middle Earth is laden with magic. Hobbits being good at hiding is magic. There's a random throne in the ruins at the end of Fellowship that lets whoever sits in it see literally the entire world, and that's hella magic. Aragorn radiates One True King magic and occasionally heals people with a touch. Galadriel's mirror lets people see any point in time, past or future. Gandalf knows several spells, but most of the time he's doing less granular stuff by making lights or small fires or going all Servant Of The Secret Fire Wielder Of The Flame Of Anor etc etc. Elves are inherently so magical that the words of their language are never forgotten by anyone who hears them, the laws of physics don't apply to them, their havens are magically pleasant and beautiful, and the planet itself is magical for them - flat for the elves, round for everybody else.

The benefit of a soft magic system is that it produces a feeling in the characters and audience that the world is vast, wonderful and unknowable. It's at its best when it can answer why, but not how.

Why did the old empire of men have a throne that let you see the entire world? That makes sense! It's hugely tactically advantageous! HOW did they get the damn thing? No idea, doesn't matter, they clearly made it work somehow because the throne's right there. Why does Galadriel's mirror give you limited, randomized omniscience? Because while it's a useful tool if you can use it, seeing the future is a dicey and weird game, and the future can change if someone knows it's coming. HOW does riverwater in a birdbath do that? No idea.

Soft magic systems start running into difficulties when the writer needs to decide how it can or can't solve a given situation, which is a very common issue in storytelling, a format almost entirely centered on problems and solutions. For hard magic systems with clear parameters on what is and isn't possible, this is comparatively quite easy. The wizard can't magic this problem away because-

They're out of spell slots :(

They don't know a specific spell that can do that specific thing

There's another caster nearby stopping them

The object that lets them do magic isn't working

They need to speak words/do gestures/use materials to cast, and they can't for whatever reason

There's something "antimagic" around stopping them

Etc etc. The possibilities are easy to run through, because the "how" is clearly defined, and can be negated into a "how NOT." If magic uses spell slots, stop the characters using it by taking those slots away. If magic needs a material focus, break or destroy it. This prevents magic from feeling like an unsatisfying "a wizard did it" fix for all difficulties because the wizards can only do specific things under specific circumstances.

Soft magic systems can contrive answers to this too, but it can be a bit tricky to justify, and if it's Too Convenient it can feel like the magic system really just does what the writer needs it to do. When asked "why can't magic solve this problem?" soft magic systems can answer in several ways:

Too tired, sorry :( magic is Taxing and stuff so the caster can tip over whenever's convenient

They're in a Bad Vibes zone that's hindering their ability to cast because soft magic can be impeded by soft problems like "somebody was very mean here once"

That specific magic is tied to a specific location, like a magical elf forest, and doesn't work outside of it because it's intrinsic to the place and can't be replicated

There's another magical being around and their kung-fu is more powerful

These explanations work, but that's conditional on the story not making the audience think the magic SHOULD work in this situation, and this is entirely based on what's been established in the story thus far. If the wizard has been able to fly up until now, parking the gang at the bottom of the cliff and saying "sorry, fly machine broke" feels contrived. But if we've only ever seen other, intrinsically magical beings fly, the audience is unlikely to expect that the party's humble wizard will suddenly bust out a set of feathery wings as a gift from baby jesus himself. On the writing side, it's really a matter of feeling it out and making sure nothing feels too jarring - if the character who's previously displayed a certain specific space of abilities suddenly does something completely unrelated (like going from clairvoyance to slinging fireballs, or from a healing touch to earthbending) that feels inconsistent AND it teaches the audience that this soft magic system is softer than they realized, and can then make it much harder for the writer to then convince them that this caster CAN'T spontaneously manifest a power or gimmick that'll save them. But if the magical characters or objects operate within a specific space - one character that specializes in fire, one object that specializes in remote viewing, one artifact that lets its holder control the winds - then the audience will expect and accept things that fit in those broad, soft categories without speculating too much on the underlying "how" of their mechanics.

But the temptation to explain "how" is very strong for writers, and soft magic systems especially have trouble with this, because soft magic systems start calcifying into fragmentary hard systems when they're forced to explain "how". It locks in a hard-defined axiom that can be logically extrapolated. Because a soft system is not DESIGNED for that kind of internal logic, doing that will usually cause axiomatic collisions as they contradict one another. If a hard system is a crisp, geometric crystalline structure where any tangent line drawn through it will intersect cleanly with other lines in very predictable ways, adding "how"s to a soft magic system is like drawing tangent lines through a bowl of pudding - you're gonna get a lot of intersections in awkward places.

To pull an example out of absolutely nowhere, if a soft system without clear rules establishes something like "this spell can be used to summon an object towards the caster, but it DOES NOT WORK on living things", there are a number of questions that can become relevant:

Who made that spell to have those limitations?

Why can't WE make spells that DON'T have that limitation?

How is the spell defining "living things"? Would it work on a plant or a skeleton or a piercing in someone's body?

Why did you let this character use it on a living thing anyway, joanne?

In a lot of soft systems that try to lock in hard spell parameters, "who made these spells" and "why can't WE make spells" become the first and most obvious axiomatic clash. If magic can be created to do what the caster wants, why and how does that work, and why can't WE do it? This forces the writer to come up with an explanation to solve the clash without letting the protagonists make up whatever spells they want, therefore solving all plot problems forever - sometimes something like "the inventors of spells were intrinsically magical beings, like elves or dragons or whatever, and thus we ordinary scrub mortals can't make new ones." That's a functional explanation, but it reduces to a previous problem again - that this hard-ish magic system was created by someone with access to an unstructured soft system.

In a soft magic system, the only answer to the question "how does this magical thing work" is "because magic." If any other explanation is needed, things rapidly collapse into hard lines and axioms and covering for edge cases. How can elves run on powder snow, shoot targets in the dark and see for hundreds of miles? They're magical. Does that mean they can fly like a balrog or sling fire like gandalf or control weather like saruman maybe can? No, of course not, that's not their kind of magic and we have no reason to expect it from them. They're just magic. Magic means a lot of different things, and in a soft system the audience has to operate based on vibes rather than rules.

This can be difficult to balance. For instance, Star Wars has a soft system in The Force, and if you squint, every single movie and show uses it differently. It's not super disruptive to the audience's immersion because it's never framed like a Hard System with Hard Rules and it almost never pulls something out of COMPLETELY nowhere, but if you look at what it does from movie to movie and then show to show, it expands from "influence the wills of the weak-minded", "seeing the future a little bit" and "force choking" to "general telekinesis" and "limited telepathy" to "FUCKING LIGHTNING FROM THE HANDS MAN" which is a hell of a twist the first time you see it, to some even more buckwild stuff in the two different animated Clone Wars (like Mace Windu fighting an entire droid army Samurai Jack style and using the force to pull every bolt out of one of them at once, or the planet with the living incarnations of the Light and Dark Side) and the explanation never goes further than "The Force is magic, it's in everything, people who are good at The Force can use it to do a buncha stuff." It's not consistent, it doesn't have rules, but the audience accepts that Force users can just kind of do stuff that fits the Vibes of the stuff it's already been shown it can do. And as SOON as they tried to say "The Force is strong in people who have LOTS OF MIDICHLORIANS" everybody hated it, because it gave us a "how" answer to a question nobody wanted to ask and it made this pervasive, wonderous, soft magic system that Surrounds And Binds Us Luminous Beings Are We into "we are space wizards because we contain an above-average number of bugs."

As a chronic worldbuilder myself, I absolutely understand the impulse to explain and overexplain and lock in the Hows and the Whys, but as far as I can figure it, soft magic systems live and die on the writer's ability to restrain themselves from saying "how." The answer is "magic." The rest is just writing the story in such a way that "magic" doesn't become plot-breaking.

#asks #writing stuff

[psalacanthea]

Are we going to talk about how scary being the Inquisitor is for a Lavellan or…?

I mean, the more and more I have played this game, the more the Chantry shit is terrifying. Over and over again, you see painful and irrefutable evidence about the shit humans did to elves in the name of the Maker. The Exalted Plains is an obvious example.  (I consistently call it Dirthavaren you don’t like it fight me bitch) 

Like I think the entire fandom can agree on fuck that bitch sister Amity. The Chantry crusades destroyed what was left of the elves, destroyed them. Culture, body and spirit. Like be honest, there aren’t many Dalish clans left and each time a new game/book comes around, another one bites the dust. It’s so easy to lose your clan in Inquisiton and even easier to accidentally kill off Marethari’s. Hell, you can choose to kill Zathrian’s. 

The Dalish are dying out, any way you slice it.

Then suddenly a hole rips open in the sky and everybody thinks Lavellan did it. It destroys the Conclave…don’t tell me for one second that the humans didn’t immediately start developing an ‘elves and vengeance and antiMaker’ conspiracy theory. The ‘remain silent’ dialogue option in that first interaction isn’t a stoic ‘I don’t give a fuck’ to me, it’s more of a ‘whatever I say doesn’t matter I’m already dead’ for a Dalish Inquisitor. 

The true horror is knowing that they wont just kill you, they’ll call for a bloodbath on elves across Thedas.

“For the elves were guilty of the greatest sin, of turning from the Maker.”

You’ve damned them all and you can’t even remember how or why. For a First, it must be terrifying to realize even if you try to diplomatically talk your way out of it, they’ll never believe you. As a hunter or warrior, you know it’s hopeless. All you can do is throw yourself forward as the villain, claim that whatever happens you acted alone and take as many of these shems out with you as you can.  As a mage you know if they take pity on you, you’re condemned to their mage-slavery prisons.

“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!”

But then they believe you (barely, like thank the Creators the Lavellan clan taught you how to talk to humans civilly and not panic) but it’s basically a hostage situation. There’s one other elf with you and even if he’s not Dalish thank Mythal because shit you were scared and you’re still scared but at least it’s something. His name is ‘Pride’. You take it as a sign from the Creators that it’s not time to give up yet. Suledin, you think.

There is an orb, a weapon that caused this. Solas tells you it’s elven and your heart sinks.

“Eventually, the humans will find a way to blame elves…”

You become Inquisitor and things are a little better but the humans call you Herald of Andraste. You don’t believe in their Maker but none of them care. You know your clan would feel betrayed, think you’ve given up your gods. You haven’t of course but the terror is there…what if the gods think you’ve given up them? You talk to Cassandra and Leliana, trying to understand the human chantry and maybe figure out a way for your two beliefs to coexist. 

 But no.

You realize it wont help. Cassandra talks about spreading the Maker’s word to all corners of Thedas…you remember the lonely howls of the wolves across Dirthavaren. You know what ‘spreading the Makers word’ means. Leliana at least acknowledges what the Chantry did, but she dismisses it with words. All those lives and hopes and dreams dismissed with the words ‘that hate won’t just go away if you dissolve the Chantry’. You understand what she really means, though. 

She’s saying that the hate will never go away, not until the elves are just like humans. The Chantry will never stop.  She says she wants elves to be part of the chantry so they survive and you try not to taste bile in the back of your throat when you think of what that means.

“My father says humans are like weeds that choke out the grass…”’

Slowly, slowly, slowly...they consume you.

#lavellan #Draon Age Inquisition

[possamble]

do you have any particular thoughts regarding marcille being a half-elf? its interesting to me considering the fact that she seems self-conscious about being a half-elf, but denies it when its brought up

i remember marcille looking visibly uncomfortable over laios simply asking her how old she is, which i think the only reason she might feel nervous about this is because it might reveal her as a half-elf to him.

she's never corrected anybody whose called her an elf either.

never mind the circumstances of the reveal, in which thistle goes on about how half-elves are inferior and accusing her of wanting to become full blooded elf, she seemed particularly upset like he struck a nerve-

i wish the half-elf thing was built upon more. also, underrated marcille line:

okay so i revisited this sequence just to make sure I could back myself up and it's just... man. there's a lot going on.

the first reaction we get from Marcille is this huge panel that takes up half of the page

she is viscerally affected. flushing to the tips of her ears with the intensity of it. and we see it again, a few pages later

so it might seem like she's embarrassed about it and lying to herself, but... I really think it's just that Thistle is accidentally hitting sore spots. If you really look at what he says to get these reactions

"you'll live out your entire life [...] and die that way too"

"a hundred years from now, nobody will be there"

Hear me out. I think, if he stuck to harping on about her inferiority without bringing up how terrifyingly long-lived she is, she wouldn't have been as bothered. But right now, Thistle is accidentally hitting all the marks on Marcille's deepest fears-- and this is after the Winged Lion promised her that her dreams could come true in an extremely vulnerable moment, so it also hits her slightly guilty conscience as well.

I do truly believe that Marcille isn't bothered about being a half-elf the way that people assume she'd be bothered by it. To her, the biggest problem with being a half-elf is that it's isolating.

On one hand, it's not hard to imagine why she'd distance herself from elves in the west. A lot of them can clock her as a half-elf on sight, unlike other races, and therefore she's always branded with this weird stigma of being Othered -- I would even say that she considers herself lucky for being born outside of elven culture instead of having to grow up in it. I mean, just... look at the way elves talk about her.

Skipping past the uncomfortable implication of what 'not tolerating the existence' of half-elves would actually entail, this is incredibly fucking annoying. You can see why she wouldn't want to be around elves much. You see a lot of Marcille reacting badly here, but honestly, almost all of it can be attributed to her freaking out that her bluff completely failed. She's honestly more paying attention to Izutsumi's footsteps and trying to coordinate an opportunity to escape.

And in the end, you see her built-up frustration at being asked if she wants to be a full-blooded elf like 2-3 times in a row.

Yeah, yeah, "the lady doth protest too much," and all. But we know Marcille. We know that she's a lot more embarrassed and horrendously unconvincing when she's being prodded about something she's actually self-conscious about.

Moving onto the flipside of things, it might seem weird that she "pretends" to be a full elf around other races, but it's not really that strange if you think about it. Again, people are weird about her being infertile or whatever, and a lots of them don't even know much about what sets half-elves apart from everyone else. I mean, look at how uncomfortable Laios is just asking her about it

and look at how exasperated and resigned she looks

And like... she's right. Where would that come up in normal conversation? Why would she go out of her way to tell them? She's functionally a normal elf to other races anyway -- got the ears, the abnormally long "childhood", and the huge mana capacity. Unless it's directly relevant or important for people to know, I don't think it's all that strange or indicative of insecurity that she prefers not to bother with it.

(This combined with her sense of being an "outsider" to elf culture also explains why she thinks elf superiority is embarrassing. She sees the way elves treat short-lived races from the "outsider" perspective nonetheless, and thinks it's obnoxious; especially more so because she usually has to play the elf around short-lived races and deal with the reputation of arrogance that elves have built up.)

The sad thing is, this all means that... she doesn't actually fit in anywhere. She doesn't like going out West much because of how elves treat her. But she's also an outsider in the continents she was born in, treated like this exotic long-lived alien choosing to live among short-lived races for some reason. She is always an outsider, the Other, no matter where she goes. Add in the fact that she'll live longer than literally anyone she knows, and it's honestly kind of heartbreaking.

And I think that's the crux of it. Marcille really doesn't act like she's at all self-conscious about being a half-elf because of any feelings of inferiority or being half-made or whatever. She considers herself a perfectly legitimate being and might even, in some ways, consider herself superior to normal elves because she's not blind with elf supremacy or whatever. (And whatever "elven biases" she displays, all of them are born more out of the fact that she's kind of bad at conceptualizing how other races age and mature compared to herself, not that she actually considers herself better or more mature simply for being an elf.)

I think that whatever self-consciousness Marcille has about being a half-elf is, instead, related to terror and loneliness. The reminder that it ensures she'll never truly belong anywhere for the rest of her very long life. The reminder that, in truth, even she's not actually sure how old she is by other races' standards (hence the discomfort when asked how old she is). She doesn't want to not be a half elf, or be a full elf or full tall-man-- in her ideal world, she's still a half-elf. She just gets to live out her life at the same pace with the people she loves and doesn't have to say goodbye again and again and again until she dies.

and one last very important panel, right after Mithrun tells her that all her desires would be devoured

In her ideal world, she's still a half-elf and reality magically starts marching at her pace. But failing that, the second best thing is that she's still a half-elf-- but one who is able to accept reality and let go of her fear.

(But the rest of the story pans out the way it does because, to Marcille, taking reality apart and reshaping it was less scary than simply and fully reconciling with it.)

#asks #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #marcille donato #manga panel analysis #this is probably riddled with typos sorry #readmore cut bc it got long lmao #i ended up babbling about it bc it's such an important character detail to me #bc like... wow. she's so normal about it. she's literally just chilling. #the only thing that really bothers her is the material reality of it and how people treat her #the stereotypes the stigma etc. etc. #otherwise it just.. #literally doesn't factor into her criteria for self-worth at all #the basic truth is that marcille likes herself on a fundamental level #she's not plagued by a deep and festering self-loathing the way a lot of characters in her archetype are #she likes herself and is proud of her successes and accomplishments #its just that shes terrified of failure and can have *episodes* of self-loathing when she fucks up #but who doesn't yknow #i know its a very slight nuance that makes very little difference in how her 'overachiever' problems manifest but its there #the sword of abandonment issues that hangs over her head has nothing to do with her self-worth or self-esteem or meeting her own standards #it has to do with the fear of not living up to *other* people's expectations and not being useful enough to be worth keeping around #she's good enough for herself but she's always so so so scared that she's not good enough for other people #i wont say much about what ryoko kui is saying using this as an allegory for real world racial biases but #dungeon meshi's treatment of marcille's relationship with her being half-elf is so incredibly important to me because it gets it so right. #a trauma about inferiority or being a half-being isn't inherent to the experience of being 'of two worlds' at all #that's something that's unfairly drilled into people by their environment #the *inherent* anguish is the loneliness. the constant longing. the fact that you are always homesick no matter where you are #always just a little bit of an outsider and never fully at home #and dungeon meshi gets that. #edit: cleaned it up a little

[kcwriter-blog]

Another stray thought. Inquisitor Ameridan refers to Telana as his spirit companion. Not his lover or wife or anything but spirit. We know even by Halemshiral times, the elves had lost a lot of what they knew from the time of Arlathan. What if spirit companion had a different meaning back in those times? Given the Birds of Fancy codex from the Shattered Library and Solas' comment to Blackwall that sex in the Fade is not easy, could sex be more than -well- sex to the ancient elves? I mean if there is a true joining between two spirits that could have implications for whatever happens between Solas and Lavellan. Either it was a bigger deal for Solas than we think and that's why they didn't or they are bonded for life if they did. I'm probably overthinking this - then again its fun to think about :-)

#solas #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #solavellan #dai #fen'harel #solasmance #solas dragon age #solas dread wolf #dai solas #I obviously have too much time on my hands

[dem-obscure-imagines]

The Way it Was Before

Bernard the Elf x Reader

Fandom: The Santa Clause

Summary: Something is VERY wrong this Christmas, and it seems you’re the only person in the world who remembers the way things were before. Well, almost the only person. It’s up to you and the Head Elf to save the day before Jack’s wish becomes irreversible.

Note: I was literally possessed by the spirit of Christmas to write this. I still don’t understand how I whipped this up so fast. Also I have a few ideas kicking around for a sequel, so let me know if that’s something you’re interested in! Additionally, I will be uploading this to Ao3, so if you see it on there too, don't worry hahaha

Warnings: Language, a lil violence as a treat (nothing major just literally a few punches lol), a lil angst but a very happy ending <3

Word Count: 14k

Reader is: Female, 23

Well, that was it, then. It was over. You couldn’t help but feel a little torn up about it. You just weren’t cut out for the job, or maybe you didn’t have the magic for it. Whatever the reason, Mother Nature had made it clear. You were not the Spring Enchantress, and this would be your last foray into the Magical Realm for a very long time, if you ever set foot in it again.

Mother Nature had to visit Santa at the North Pole. You weren’t sure why, she didn’t tell you what she was there to pick up, but she did give you some time on your own to explore the Workshop for the last time.

Wanting to get away from the wandering eyes, you found a secluded nook and sat down, resting your head in your hands. You loved the Pole. It was so intricate and beautiful and whimsical and you would never see it again. You’d never step foot in Mother Nature’s Grotto or the Summer Isles, or even Halloweentown.

It hit you all at once and the tears came flowing before you could stop them. You just hoped none of the elves were around to find you. You didn’t want to worry them when they were already so busy.

“(Y/N), right?” a voice asked, drawing your attention to the doorway where he was standing. Bernard, the Head Elf. Your eyes wandered over his shoulder to the sign on the door. Of course, your crying spot had to be directly outside his office. Figured.

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.” You wiped at the tears, trying to compose yourself. You motioned to the door. “I didn’t realize…”

He shook his head. “That’s alright. Is something wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m sorry, I can—”

“No, you’re no bother at all. Come on in. My couch is a lot comfier than that bench there.” He motioned you forward and you hesitated, but got up and walked into his office, a large, cozy room with forest green walls, hardwood floors, a small fireplace, a cozy couch, and a desk facing it. There was a shelf of snow globes on one wall, a shelf of old leather books on another.

Bernard motioned to the couch and you took a seat while he perched himself on the edge of his desk. He plucked a tissue out of the box and handed it to you, empathy etched in his brown eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“It um…Mother Nature…” You spoke slowly, composing your words. “She said I’m not the Spring Enchantress like she thought. So um…I’m getting my memory wiped and heading back to the Mortal Realm. Tomorrow, I think.”

“Wiped? Like entirely?” Bernard said, horror in his voice.

“I mean, I’ll still know who I was before I started training under her, but…all of the magic stuff, all of this…” You shook your head. “I knew it was all too good to be true.”

“I am so sorry this is happening to you.” He shook his head. “It’s not fair.”

“Yeah…” You nodded, wiping your tears on the tissue he’d given you. “I’m just glad she brought me here one last time. It’s so beautiful here.”

Bernard smiled softly. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small snow globe, waving a hand over it before handing it to you. “Even if you won’t remember this place…I’d like you to take a piece of it with you.”

You took a shaking breath, more tears flowing at his words, at the sincerity on his face, at the beautiful snow globe he’d given you. You stood to accept it and found yourself hugging him instead, seeking comfort from the most powerful elf in the Pole. His arms wrapped tight around you, comforting you at your most vulnerable.

“Thank you. So much. Even if I don’t remember it, I…I think I’ll still know. That it’s real. That all of this is.”

“Believing is Seeing.” Bernard said, meeting your eyes. “Someday, you’ll remember that.”

You hoped he was right…

THREE YEARS LATER

Leaving your Irish Folklore class, you were absolutely buzzing with ideas. It had been an amazing lesson. Your professor was very knowledgeable on all sorts of legends and fantasy creatures, where they’d come from, how stories about them had started. You, as a writer, were planning on using this knowledge to write an epic fantasy romance. You weren’t sure what exactly it would be about; you were still waiting for it to click, but you were sure it would eventually.

You walked to your favorite coffee shop, a little ways from your apartment, and grabbed a hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, your favorite around this time of year, sitting down with your work at your favorite table in the corner of the shop.

You took out your notebooks, comparing the notes you’d taken in class to the ones you had left over from…before. The inklings, few though they were, that had lingered in your mind, even after Mother Nature, yes, that Mother Nature, had supposedly wiped them all from existence. Granted, there wasn’t very much left from your time with her, just a few things: the Northern Lights dancing across the sky as you…as you…no, see, there it was. Nothing.

That was all that was left, pieces. And the snow globe on your shelf that you knew was more than just a snow globe, but you couldn’t remember why. Or who’d given it to you.

Sometimes you felt crazy, pushing against the walls of your memory, begging it for just one more detail, but that was how it had been for the last three years. You knew you weren’t making it up, that it was more than just fantasy, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Not even your therapist. The looks wouldn’t be worth it.

So you kept these things to yourself, jotting them down to get them out of your head. Or, rather, keeping them safe in case someday Mother Nature came to finish what she started, wiping it all away for good.

You worked on an outline for a short story for your creative writing class, but you didn’t feel all that confident in it. You sipped your cocoa some more, which had cooled to perfection, and opened an article you were supposed to read for your Folklore class. Something about elves. Festive, you thought with a chuckle. It was indeed the season for that, especially since that had been your last class before Christmas. A perfect send-off for the end of the semester.

Once you’d gotten a decent amount of work done, you packed up your stuff and headed back to your apartment, setting your bag in your room. You checked a few things off of your To Do List.

Gleaming on the shelf, your snow globe caught your eye. “Believing is Seeing.” You whispered to yourself, eyebrows knitting together when you did. It sounded familiar, but…you weren’t sure why. Or what it meant.

Down in the living room, your roommates were watching Christmas movies. In a few days, they’d both be headed home for the holidays and you’d be left on your own for a few weeks. You didn’t mind all that much. You did well on your own, in the quiet. You were kind of sad about spending the holidays alone, though.

Maybe you could find a community event to attend. A holiday party or something. Maybe your college would be doing something for the students who were staying. You hoped they’d let you attend even though you were a grad student.

On the TV, a cheesy Hallmark movie played out, the city girl deciding the small town she’d stumbled into was actually the perfect place for her and the handsome lumberjack that worked at the Christmas Tree Farm at the edge of town was actually her soulmate. You chuckled. You didn’t believe in soulmates. Not like that, at least.

“Hey, we’re going to a party tonight. Down at the Kappa House. You want to come?” Your roommate, Cindy, asked.

“Oh! Thank you. I’m alright, though. I’ll order some takeout or something.”

“Alright.” Megan, your other roommate, nodded. “How was your class?”

“Good! Yeah, I’ve just gotta finish this essay and then I’ll be good for the semester.”

“That’s good.” She grinned, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

You sat with the two of them until they got ready to leave, dressed in short red dresses, fishnets, and Santa hats. “Call me if you need a DD.”

“Oh we will.” They giggled, stumbling out the door, each armed with a bottle of cheap wine, leaving you on your own in the apartment. You did as you’d said and ordered some takeout, cranking out the rest of your paper and turning on some Christmas movies. Elf, Home Alone, all of the classics were on.

You felt something in the back of your mind, a little tingle. You froze, staring at the screen. You expected another little piece, a sliver, anything, but the feeling faded as quickly as it came. You sighed, setting your container of Lo Mein on the coffee table. Suddenly, you were tired. Maybe some sleep would help. So, after putting your things away and cleaning up after yourself, you changed into your pajamas and headed to bed.

You stared at the ceiling for a while, trying desperately to jog your memory for the little inkling that was about to emerge earlier, but to no avail. You shook your head and turned onto your side.

Believing is Seeing…

***

The next morning, you felt groggy and decidedly weird. You jotted down the dreams you remembered in your journal and went downstairs to get some breakfast to appease your growling stomach. You poured yourself a bowl of cereal with milk and plopped down in front of the TV, all but dropping it in your lap when you saw what was on the screen.

“Come on up to the North Pole, folks! Christmas Wonderland right at your fingertips! This year, we’re opening our Winter Wonderland Water Park, Hotel, and Resort! Pet the reindeer! Take a photo with an elf! And don’t forget to meet Santa!”

“What the Fuck.”

“Oh! See! I told you! We should go! They have a two for one on the Mistletoe Cruise!” Cindy grinned, hopping over the back of the couch. “Rewind it!”

You did as she said, pausing when the prices were on the screen. It just so happened to be when this so-called Santa was also on screen. Taking one look at him, you could tell something was wrong. His height, his voice, but most of all, his hair, which was frosted and spiked up. He may have been wearing the suit, but that was no Santa.

Chills ran up your arm at the sight of him. No, that was no Santa. That was Jack Frost.

It was coming back to you a little now.

“What…the North Pole…?” You murmured, confused.

“Obviously. What, did your parents never take you as a kid?” Megan asked. “We went all the time when I was growing up.”

“I can’t say they did, no…” You shook your head. No, this was bad. Something was very wrong here. Your stomach sank, veins on fire and chills unending.

You got changed at the speed of light and headed out to town, stopping in the book store next to your favorite coffee shop, where on the front rack was this new Santa’s memoir. It was titled, “Becoming Santa” and you doubted anything in it was anywhere near the truth.

You scooped up a copy of it as well as a book on the history of the Pole. There had to be something in there, some hint, some…someone you could contact. You checked out at the counter and headed next door to the coffee shop, spreading out your books and notes. You grabbed a cocoa with extra whipped cream and a shot of espresso. You knew you’d need the caffeine for whatever lied ahead.

You combed the books extensively, rolling your eyes every paragraph as you waded through Jack’s stuffy memoir. It was…impossible. You couldn’t believe this had all happened overnight. Unless there was magic involved. You cracked open the history of the Pole book, which had pictures, thankfully. You were able to look through and see if there was anyone you recognized. The longer you stared at the pictures, the more it confirmed your suspicions. You had been to the Pole before, but not in the capacity your roommates were discussing. It hadn’t been a theme park, a tacky tourist destination loaded to the brim with money-grabs. No, you had been there when it was a gorgeous, beautiful workshop, full of joy and love and…for lack of better word, Christmas cheer.

A single tear slipped down your cheek and you sat back in your chair, taking it all in. You remembered. Most of it, anyway. There were still bits and pieces that wouldn’t click into place just yet.

“This seat taken?” Someone asked.

You looked up, staring for a long moment as his features came into focus, his kind brown eyes, dark curls, a pointed ear sticking out from under his hat. He was the exact same as the last day you’d seen him, right down to the red tunic embroidered in golden symbols, the tassel necklace around his neck.

You gasped softly. “Bernard?”

Click.

His face split into a grin and a wave of relief swept over him as he all but collapsed into the seat across from you. “Thank the stars. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“How could I forget?” You asked, mostly to yourself. You had forgotten him. Well, until now. But it was all coming together. Something about seeing him made everything else, all those loose, scattered pieces, finally come together.

“So far, you’re the only one who remembers.”

“Remembers you?”

“No, remembers…the way things were yesterday.” He lowered his voice and you nodded, eyes wide.

“Okay cool, I’m not crazy. Always nice to know.” You sighed, closing the book and sliding it over to him. “I’ve been looking for…I don’t even know what, to be honest, but I knew it wasn’t right.”

“That’s…yeah.” He nodded, flipping through the book before closing it again.

“So what’s going on?”

“No idea. I was on my way out of the Pole when it hit, which is probably why I was spared. All of the elves…” He shook his head, arms crossed. “I don’t have any magic. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Why me?” You asked softly, voice breaking at the edges. “How did you find me?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you since everything happened. I’m really sorry. What happened to you isn’t fair and I understand if you want to stay out of it, but I need your help. You’re the only person I have left.”

“I was on your team the second you sat down.” You told him, earning a tired smile. “So I did find…something. Um…Santa. Our Santa, I mean. When did he…?”

“He put on the coat in 1994.” Bernard replied with certainty.

“Okay that’s not good.” You opened Jack’s memoir to his origin story, in which he claimed to have become aware of his Santa Powers in the same year on the same night. “That never happened. Jack…he must have gone back in time and overwritten things.”

“How would he even have done something like that?” Bernard asked, taking the book from you and reading through the section you’d underlined.

“Father Time,” you mumbled. “Maybe he did something to Father Time.”

“Maybe.” Bernard nodded. “He’s in London. Big Ben. We can head there. But first, we need to find our Santa and pray that he remembers too. If not, our goose may already be cooked.”

***

Bernard ordered a drink for himself and the two of you left the shop, sticking a nice tip in the jar on the way out. You led Bernard to your apartment. Your roommates were still there, buzzing about their impending trip to the North Pole.

“I thought you guys were going home to see your families for the holidays.” You said, prying to see just how much they had changed in this new reality.

“Oh right, right, we were, but this deal is just too good to pass up, you know? My parents will understand. We’ll just celebrate…over spring break or something.”

“Yeah, yeah same. It’ll be fine, I’ll just mail them their presents.” Megan agreed, going right back to vacation planning with Cindy.

You gave Bernard a look that he returned before the two of you went up to your room. You pulled open your laptop and sat on the floor, Bernard looking around your room, eyes careful, admiring every detail until he found it, the snow globe he’d given you still sitting on the shelf.

He smiled softly, picking it up and giving it a shake before setting it back. “You still have it.”

“Of course I do. I’ve had it in all of my apartments. I don’t move anywhere without it.” You smiled and paused, thinking. “Did you…use your magic on it when you gave it to me? Maybe that’s what’s bringing my memory back.”

“No, I only used my magic to inscribe the plaque.” He explained, pointing to where the words were inscribed in curling cursive words, Believing is Seeing. “Something else is protecting your memory, even now.”

“Mother Nature?” You wondered quietly. Then again, if she wanted to protect your memories, why would she have wiped them in the first place? It didn’t make sense, so instead, you turned your attention to Google. “Alright, what’s Santa’s government name? As long as Jack didn’t kill him, we should be able to find him.”

“Scott. Scott Calvin.” Bernard replied, sitting on the carpet beside you, leg brushing against yours. “When we found him, he was living in Illinois. He might still be close to there now.”

“Scott Calvin…” You said quietly, typing his name in the search bar along with Illinois to attempt to narrow down the search results. It was common name, but hopefully not too common. You scrolled through hits from Facebook, showing Bernard the profile pictures to see if there was one he recognized. After all, you never saw Santa when he was still human, only as the Big Man himself.

“There! There, that’s him!” Bernard pointed to one of the Scotts. You clicked on his profile and started scrolling.

Marriage Status: Divorced

Employment: Frost Toys, Illinois

“Frost Toys.” You read, sounding deflated. “Even he’s working for Frost.”

“Can you get a phone number? His business phone maybe?”

“Can do.” You hopped onto his LinkedIn and found his contact, punching in the number and handing your phone to Bernard.

He waited while it rang, shaking his head when it booted him to voicemail. There was a long beep and Bernard said, exasperated, “Hey Scott, this is Bernard. If you remember me, remember anything, please call back. We’re going to fix all of this.”

He hung up and handed the phone back to you, looking disappointed.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Having trouble believing that at the moment.” He exhaled, frustrated. “This is bad.”

“On a scale of zero to plastic Santa…?”

He chuckled, mood lightening the tiniest bit. “You heard about that?”

“It was the talk of the meeting that month.” You laughed, remembering. Your smile faded when you remembered who else had been at that meeting. Maybe that was where Jack had gotten his messed up little idea of world domination.

“I’d take three of that guy before this.” Bernard shook his head. “What now?”

You thought before shrugging. “I guess we’re going to Illinois.”

“You’re serious? You’re coming with me to get Scott?”

“Or what, let you do this on your own? No way. Help me get some stuff together. I just put gas in my car so we should be good for a while.”

He smiled, getting to his feet and pulling you up after him. “Alright, what do you need?”

As quickly as you could, you gathered up the absolute basics: a pair of pajamas, an extra set of clothes, your toothbrush and toothpaste, your hairbrush, extra fuzzy socks, and a phone charger. Once the two of you were done, you stopped in the kitchen to load up on snacks and drinks for the long car ride, garnering looks from your roommates.

“Hey, who’s the guy?” Cindy asked, having missed him on his way in, apparently.

“I’m Bernard, a friend of (Y/N)’s. We have, uh, History together. History class, that is.” He offered his hand, but neither of them shook it, still too wrapped up in their phones and the cruise tickets they were busy booking.

“Ohhhh, right, I think I remember her mentioning you.” Megan nodded, agreeing. “You two going somewhere?”

“Illinois.”

“Why?” Cindy asked. “What’s in Illinois?”

“We’re going to see The Bean. I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year.” You shrugged. “Probably cheaper than a North Pole trip, too.”

“The Bean…” Bernard chuckled, shaking his head as he shoved a box of Rice Krispy Treats in the snack bag along with some Hershey Kisses and a bag of Twizzlers.

“Okay, Mr. Sweet Tooth, pack some salty stuff for me,” you muttered, elbowing him.

“Heh, right. Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly, packing a few saltier options that would appeal to your human taste buds.

“We probably won’t be back by the time you two leave, so…lock up good, alright?” You asked, meeting each of their eyes.

You loved your roommates. You knew they weren’t usually like this, dropping literally everything for a vacation. It was something about this timeline. Christmas wasn’t…happy like it was supposed to be. It was a bitter, greedy thing that was pushing these girls, who loved their families very much, away from their loved ones during the holidays. It made you sick.

“You alright?” Bernard asked, noticing the moment you began to space out. The last thing he needed was to lose you, too.

“I’m good, yeah. Let’s go.”

***

Hauling your little suitcase and your bag full of snacks, the two of you walked out of the apartment to where you’d parked your car. Thankfully, it was still there, one of the things the new timeline seemed to have no effect on. You slid your suitcase onto the back seat and Bernard set the bag of snacks on the floor in front of the passenger seat.

You settled into the driver’s seat, turning on the car and adjusting the temperature and the mirrors. Bernard fiddled with the radio, looking for Christmas tunes and finding them, catching the end of White Christmas just in time for an announcement from the radio host.

“We’re playing your favorite Christmas Hits all day, 24/7. That was White Christmas by Michael Bublé, up next, Santa’s new hit single, Come Meet Santa.”

“You’re kidding me.” You groaned as an insufferable song started blaring from the speakers, Jack singing about his fancy new resort at the Pole.

“He’s got the reindeer in a petting zoo?” Bernard asked, disheartened as he listened to the lyrics.

“Oh my god…” You shook your head. “We’ve gotta find Scott.”

You connected your own Christmas playlist to the aux cord, doing away with Jack’s twisted idea of Christmas and set up navigation to the Frost Toys office building in Chicago. You figured even if it wasn’t exact, it would get you close enough to Scott by the time he called you back. Well, you hoped he would. Hope was kind of all the two of you had.

You drove out the front gates of your college campus and started heading towards the highway. “Let me know if you need a bathroom break or anything.”

“Alright.” Bernard nodded, still looking tense.

“Did you…try to call the Pole? I don’t know if there’s a special number for that or…?”

“I did. Customer Service put me on hold.”

You blinked. “Customer Service?”

“Yeah we didn’t have that department yesterday.” Bernard crossed his arms and leaned back against the seat, eyes squeezed shut in what you were sure was the immense stress of the situation. “Sounds like Curtis is in charge up there now, though. It’s like I never existed.”

“Oh.” You said, turning on your blinker to get in the faster lane. “I’m really sorry, Bernard.”

“Yeah, it’s…we’re gonna fix it.” He insisted, repeating your sentiment from earlier. “We have to.”

“We will.” You assured him.

He chuckled darkly. “This whole time, all I’ve been able to think about is how…this…what I’m going through now is what you’ve been going through for the past three years.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t really know what I was missing out on until today.”

“How do you mean?”

“Something about you showing up jogged my memory. Before that, it was just little tiny bits and pieces. If it weren’t for your snow globe, I definitely would have thought I was losing my mind. I remembered Mother Nature and the…role she played in this, I guess, but I could not have told you what she looks like. All I’ve had is the idea of her.”

“And now?”

“Now I remember. Pretty much everything, I think. Santa, the Pole, you, all of it.”

“Well that’s good for us.” Bernard chuckled.

“And when it’s over, I’m sure she’ll just…wipe me all over again.”

“I will see to it myself that that does not happen.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe she ever did that to you to begin with. Lead you on like that just to drop you like nothing happened.”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, I just…like I said to you that day in your office—I think, it’s still a little fuzzy—I always knew it was a little too good to be true. I always felt like I just…I was the puzzle piece that didn’t fit. That there was this big, beautiful, magical world out there, but I wasn’t meant to…be part of it, I guess.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Bernard shook his head. “I’m 1600 years old and I’ve never met someone who doesn’t have a place. And having met you, I can guarantee you do belong. If Mother Nature can’t see that, then that’s her loss.”

You smiled softly. “Thanks.”

“You know, we can always use a hand in the ornament department.”

“I’d work anywhere you stuck me just to be able to hang out at the Pole again.”

“See, that’s the spirit.” He laughed.

The two of you drove for a handful of hours and you did decide to stop for gas, just to be safe. That, and you were really craving a gas station slushee. So, you filled the tank while Bernard grabbed the two of you some slushees for the rest of the drive down.

While he was standing there, there was a weird, floaty feeling about him. For a moment, his hands began to fade, sparkles taking their place, but as soon as you walked through the doors, the bell jingling above your head, the feeling went away and he exhaled a sigh of relief, feeling solid again.

“You alright?” You asked, voice hushed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, nodding before daring to meet your gaze. Never in his millennia and a half had he ever felt so weak.

“Bernard?”

“I’m fine!” He insisted, raising his voice slightly, but softening when he met your eyes again. “Sorry, I’m…fine.”

“Hang in there.” You whispered, standing closer to him. “I can’t lose you, too.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. The two of you went back out to the car, sipping your slushees and turning the Christmas music back on when it was interrupted suddenly by an incoming call.

You looked at Bernard and he reached over, putting the call on speaker. “Hello?”

“Bernard? Is that you?” Santa’s voice came out of the speakers and you sighed in relief.

“Santa? Oh thank the stars.” Bernard closed his eyes, a long breath working out of his lungs.

“What the hell is going on? Where are you?”

“We’re about an hour from Frost Toys. We did some research and found this, uh, new job of yours.”

“Don’t get me started.” He chuckled. “I’ll send my apartment address. Does this number work? Whose phone is this, I didn’t know you had a cell phone.”

“I don’t. It’s a long story, but I’m with a friend and we’re on the way.”

“Good. Well then, I’ll see you two soon. The sooner the better.” Scott sounded very relieved. He hung up and texted over your new destination, which was just a little ways further than the building you were already heading towards.

With new fervor, you pulled out of the gas station and got back on the highway, reaching Scott’s apartment with speeds even Bernard was impressed by. You pulled into the parking garage, got your little orange slip to put on the dash, and took the elevator into the building. Scott buzzed you upstairs and you met him outside the door of the snazzy, modern downtown apartment. At the very least, this timeline had given him a cushy job. He ushered the two of you inside.

“Bernard.” Scott greeted, hugging his Head Elf briefly before the two turned back to you. “I’ve never been so relieved to see you.”

“Likewise.” Bernard sighed.

“And you are…?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).” You introduced, offering your hand. “I don’t expect you to—”

“Oh! You were Mother Nature’s apprentice for a bit, weren’t you?” He asked, remembering.

“Yeah. That was me.” You nodded, deciding to spare him the gritty details. “I’m here to help save Christmas.”

“That might be easier said than done…”

“(Y/N) thinks Jack might have used time travel to do this. We were planning on going to see Father Time to see if any of this is something he can fix, or…or if Jack did something to him and that’s how he accomplished all of this.”

“It wasn’t Father Time.” Scott shook his head. “Jack tricked me with a wishing snow globe. Made me wish I had never been Santa and…took the coat for himself.”

“Oh.” Bernard murmured, nodding. “The Escape Clause. Well that would do it, then.”

“There’s gotta be some way to undo this.” Scott said. “It can’t just be over. This can’t be it. Carol…she doesn’t even know who I am.”

“Mrs. Claus?” You asked softly and he nodded solemnly.

You’d met her on a few occasions and she had always been so nice to you, relieved to have another human-ish woman at the Pole, as she said, which always earned a laugh from you. And now, she was a school principal again at a public school who didn’t believe in Christmas anymore. Even Mrs. Claus wasn’t safe from Jack’s trickery.

“Okay, so…we go to the Pole, then. Get…plane tickets, I guess. My roommates were planning their vacation there when we left, so if they can do it, I’m sure we can.”

“Definitely.” Scott nodded, searching for tickets on his phone.

“We go there, find that snow globe, and undo all of this, set it right, the way it’s supposed to be.” You said, determined.

“You think it’ll work?” Scott asked Bernard and he thought over it for a long time before nodding.

“It has to.”

***

Scott booked three tickets for the earliest flight in the morning, at five. You changed into pajamas so you could attempt to get some sleep, and Bernard put something on the TV. You emerged from Scott’s guest bedroom, face wiped clean of makeup, hair freshly brushed, and cute little penguins on your pajama pants. Bernard grinned.

“What?”

“Penguins?”

“I thought they were cute.” You defended, shrugging as you plopped down on the couch next to him.

“I never said they weren’t.” He shrugged, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Hey, pizza sound good, you two?” Scott called from the kitchen.

“Sounds perfect.” You replied.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Bernard agreed, flipping channels until he found what he was looking for. Ah yes, the Christmas movies. Specifically, the stop-motion Rankin/Bass movies you’d watched during your childhood. Absolute classics.

You gasped, childlike wonder filling your features. “Oh, I love this one.”

“You like these movies?”

“I’ve seen just about all of them, I think. We always used to watch them when I was a kid. These were my childhood. I like them a lot more than the Hallmark movies my roommates are always watching.”

“Rightfully so.” Bernard agreed. “These guys just…got it.”

“Better than anyone else.” You sat criss-cross on the couch. “Riddle me this, Mr. Head Elf, is Rudolph real?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, (Y/N), but no, he is not.”

“No! What? You’re lying!” You covered your face with your hands. “My life is a lie.”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” He laughed. “Rudolph is not one of our reindeer. The rest all are, though. Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen.”

“Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen?” You asked.

Bernard smiled, proud. “Precisely.”

“Hey,” Scott held the phone away from his face for a second, covering the microphone with his hand, “pepperoni good? Thin crust?”

“Sounds good to me, Santa.” Bernard gave a thumbs-up. He could not, for the life of him, remember the last time he’d even had pizza.

“Yeah, I love thin crust.” You agreed.

“Great.” He nodded and walked back towards the kitchen again, finalizing the pizza order.

The commercial break hit with, of course, an ad for the North Pole Waterpark and Resort. There were clips of miserable elves playing games in the arcade, forced to work as lifeguards in the waterpark, facilitating the reindeer petting zoo.

You frowned, that familiar feeling of dread settling into your stomach again. This was awful.

“That’s Betty, there, in the green. Third in command. Second, now, I guess. She looks…”

“Miserable.” You finished.

“Yeah.” Bernard nodded. He let out a frustrated shout. “I can’t believe this is happening! Look at them! Look at what he’s done to the Pole!”

Bernard took a shaking breath and slumped back against the couch, his lack of magic hitting him once again and that floaty, sparkly feeling returning.

“Bernard?” You asked, voice rising in concern.

“It’s my magic. The magic of the Pole, of Christmas, everything. Elves are…well, we’re basically made of magic, so if we don’t fix this, and soon…” He shook his head, words trailing off into hopelessness.

“Take some of mine.” You said, quiet, but certain.

He stared at you for a long moment. “What?”

“Take some of my magic.” You told him, more confident this time.

“You still have magic?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“And no idea how to use it, but you do. You need it more than I do right now.”

“O-okay.” He nodded, sitting up a little straighter.

You unfurled your legs, turning to face him. You turned his hands so they were in a receiving position and placed your palms on his, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes to focus yourself, tuning into the fragments of magic still inside of you and then pushing them towards him, through his hands, up his arms, into his chest.

He flinched a little at the feeling, the sharp, cold tingle, but his eyes widened when he saw it, your magic, flowing into him. It was iridescent, teal and purple and pink and blue, waves ebbing and flowing, its gentle glow lighting up your features in the dim room, your hair blowing around softly in the gentle breeze it created.

It looked like the Northern Lights.

He pulled away after a few long moments, stopping the flow. You opened your eyes to look at him.

“Do you feel better?” You asked, concern etched deep in your gaze, pulling at his heart strings in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries.

“A lot better. Thank you,” he said. “But save some for yourself. That might be what��s protecting your memories.”

“Right.” You nodded, thinking. “That makes sense.”

It was quiet, the murmur of the TV the only sound other than Scott in the kitchen, getting dishes out in anticipation of the pizzas arriving, their ceramic clattering against the fancy marble counters you’d spotted on your way in.

You looked at Bernard, really looked at him for the first time. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been crushing on him a little bit, back when you were acquaintances, when he was the knowledgeable, responsible, somewhat stern Head Elf with a heart of gold and you were Mother Nature’s apprentice, vying for a destiny you would not receive.

You remembered the way your heart would lurch when he peeked into the meetings you sat in on, with the rest of the Legendary Figures, and occasionally, the Guardians of the Seasons, if their presence was necessary.

One of the other elves, you were pretty sure her name was Abby, had given you a tour the first time you were there, she’d introduced you to him, and she’d also called to attention the way your cheeks went rosy the moment you walked away from him.

You wondered if he thought of you, if he had those memories too, tucked away someplace special, or if you were just another passerby in his long, long life. Sometimes you almost forgot he was hiding a thousand years behind that youthful face.

Sitting there, you weren’t sure if it was him who started leaning in or you, but it stopped as soon as Scott called for you from the other room, like a scratched record in the middle of a sweet, slow Christmas ballad, pulling you both back down to reality.

“Pizza.” You chuckled, standing up from the couch. Maybe it was the lighting, but you swore Bernard’s cheeks were rosier than they had been before.

“Right. Pizza.”

The two of you walked out to the kitchen together and sat on the barstools pulled up to the counter, grabbing slices of the thin-crust pepperoni.

“So, I booked the North Pole tickets. I also booked us tickets from there to London…Just in case.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Bernard chuckled.

“Hey, you look better.” Scott noted.

“I’m feeling a lot better, too.” Bernard motioned to you. “(Y/N) here still has a few tricks up her sleeve.”

“Good. We’re gonna need all the magic we can get.”

***

You didn’t get very much sleep before your alarm went off. It had been about what you were expecting. You never slept well when you were stressed.

You did, however, have a dream.

You were sitting in a meeting with Mother Nature and the Guardians, the two of them that were left after the Spring Enchantress’ retirement. Of course, you were training up to fill the position, so it wouldn’t remain empty for long.

Mother Nature led the meeting, held in the giant tree at the center of her Grotto, glancing at her watch every few minutes until finally, he showed up. Jack Frost. Even then, chills ran up your spine, though, at the time, you were convinced it was a side effect of his existence in general.

“Sorry I’m late, ladies. Had quite the hold up in Toronto.” He shrugged, sliding into the fifth seat at the round table, a snowflake embedded in the crystalline mosaic on the table’s surface. “What are we talking about?”

“You, actually.” Mother Nature stated, sitting up straighter. “We were wondering how the search for the Aurora was going, since you’ve elected to take on the task yourself.”

“Ah, yes, well, it’s certainly not easy. Winter Guardians don’t just fall from the sky, you know. But I’ve searched all of the places she used to pop up. Hence my overlay in Canada.” Jack shrugged. “And besides, it’s been five centuries since we’ve had one, I think we’re doing just fine without her.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” The Autumn Witch, a gorgeous young woman named Amber Sanderson, interjected, meeting him with her sharp gaze. Her long, curly orange hair was as beautiful as the autumn leaves, brown skin smooth and ageless, even after her thirty or so years on the council. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five.

“Then what would you say, Ms. Sanderson?” Jack countered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “If you have a problem with the way I’m running things, I’d prefer if you were forward about it.”

“We have been.” Evangeline Cho agreed, the Summer Sorceress. As her season had just started, she was glowing even more brilliantly than she usually did. “Every year, winter creeps further and further into autumn and spring. And it seems you haven’t done anything to stop it.”

“What, I can’t control that! I’m getting more powerful! It’s merely a side effect.”

“Which is precisely why we need someone on this council who can control their abilities. Such as an Aurora, which you were tasked with finding nearly a century ago, Frost.” Mother Nature stated, her voice cool and even. “If you’d like one of us to find her instead—”

“Oh no, no, that won’t be necessary. I promise you, by next winter, we will have an Aurora again and I’ll go back to managing snow days and frosting window panes.” He drew an X over his heart. “Cross my heart.”

“Excellent.” Mother Nature nodded. “Meeting adjourned.”

You blinked awake in time with Mother Nature’s gavel, staring at the ceiling of Scott’s guest room. That wasn’t a dream. You were certain. It was a memory. You’d have to tell the others.

***

Once your alarm went off, you got dressed and met Scott and Bernard in the entryway of the apartment. Bernard, who hadn’t changed his clothes, had one pointed ear sticking out the brim of his hat, a dead giveaway if there ever was one. You rummaged through your carry on and produced a knitted hat you’d made a few years back, motioning to his ear.

“Oh. Right. Thanks.” He nodded, swapping his usual headwear for the hat you gave him, slipping it on with ease. “Where’d you get this?”

“I made it. I knit.”

He chuckled, checking his reflection to make sure he was covered well. “Well aren’t you just full of surprises?”

“As we’re both learning.”

Scott drove the three of you to the airport and you arrived early, hoping your plane would be a little ahead of schedule, but when you found it was actually delayed an hour, it gave you time to grab drinks at the coffee shop.

“Hot cocoa, shot of espresso, extra whipped cream, please.” You ordered, Bernard just behind you.

“I’ll have the same, but make it a double shot.”

“Coming right up,” the barista nodded, setting to work.

Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise, filling the sky with orange and pink, sunlight glistening on the icicles hanging from the windows. You smiled, appreciating the quiet moment despite the dread looming overhead.

Once your drinks were ready, you joined Scott on a chair near the windows.

“So um, I had a dream last night. I think it was a memory from before.” You said, not sure how else to bring it up.

“What was it about?” Scott asked, curious.

“I was at a meeting with Mother Nature and the Guardians. Jack was there, sitting in for…the Aurora, I guess.”

“The Winter Aurora.” Bernard replied, nodding.

“What is that?” Scott asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“Well, there’s a Guardian for each season, often a woman, gifted with the powers of that specific time of year. They work with their Legendary Figures to oversee the flow of time and ensure everything is on schedule. The Spring Enchantress, the Summer Sorceress, the Autumn Witch, and the Winter Aurora.” Bernard explained. “We haven’t had an Aurora at the Pole in 500 years…”

“Well that would explain why I’ve never heard of her.” Scott nodded, thinking. “So Jack took her job?”

“Yeah, they were talking about his…powers increasing, I’m assuming because he was getting buffed by her powers in addition to his. And how winter is creeping into autumn and spring because of it.”

“That’s not good.” Bernard shook his head. “The seasons have to be balanced. Jack’s hunger for power is messing up the eco system.”

“Mother Nature said he was supposed to be looking for her, and I don’t know…maybe he just…wasn’t looking.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Bernard took a long sip of his cocoa. “I’ll add that to the top of my list as soon as we get everything else back to normal.”

As soon as you finished your drinks, the plane started boarding, so you followed after Scott and onto the plane. Through the windows in the walkway, you could see the plane, giant, winter blue, and emblazoned with a giant picture of Jack Frost’s Santa impression, giving a thumbs-up.

“I’m gonna puke.” You rolled your eyes.

“Ditto.”

The three of you boarded and settled into your seats, all in a row. Scott had brought his laptop along to do some research on the flight. He figured it was better to go in with something of a plan than be blindsided by whatever you found on the other side. You had a feeling the Pole would look a lot different than last you’d seen it.

You settled into the window seat and got as comfortable as you could. For a supposedly luxury flight, the seats were surprisingly stiff. Knowing Jack, you should have expected him to cut corners, even in his power fantasy brought to life.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Bernard asked, voice soft.

“As well as I can, I guess.” You shrugged. “I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.”

He nodded, eyes meeting yours, soft and serious. “I am, too.”

A lady in a flowery dress walked past, her perfume so strong, you caught a whiff of it from the window seat, its floral scent immediately tickling your nose. You tried your best to suppress the sneeze, but to no avail. You sneezed two times, waiting for a third, but it never came.

“Jeez.” You shook your head, reaching for the Benedryl in your bag.

“What’s that for?”

“My allergies. That lady’s perfume was pretty strong.” You chuckled.

“You have allergies?” Bernard asked, eyes narrowing. “Spring allergies.”

“…Yeah?”

“You have spring allergies and Mother Nature thought you were the new Spring Enchantress?” Bernard asked, looking skeptical. He knew Mother Nature. She was an intelligent, almost all-knowing being. He knew she wouldn’t make a mistake that obvious.

“That part never made sense to me either.” You shrugged.

“She thought you were a Spring, but…you’re obviously more of a Winter. I might be a bit biased, though.” He smirked.

Your heart raced when he said it, the realization hitting you that he was flirting. You were getting hit on by Santa’s Head Elf. That was something not everyone could say.

“I mean, I was born in December. The 21st.”

Suddenly, his flirting demeanor was gone, replaced instead by a look of realization, like you had just given him the last piece of the puzzle he’d been trying to solve since the day you left the Pole. “The Winter Solstice…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Let me see that, Santa.” Bernard took the laptop from Scott’s lap desk, clumsily navigating with the mousepad and punching something into the search bar. “Where was it your parents are from, (Y/N)?”

“I grew up in South Carolina. We were supposed to live in Michigan, but Dad got a job opportunity at the last minute, so we moved right after I was born.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Traverse City.”

“Hmm…” Bernard clicked through articles a bit before finding a story that made your heart race. “Is…Is this the house?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…Oh my god.” You covered your mouth, reading through the article. Three months after your family had moved out, there had been a freak snow storm that took out half the houses in the neighborhood. And your house had been hit the worst, the roof over what would have been your nursery was caved in completely.

“Jack hasn’t been not looking for the Aurora. He’s been killing her every time she’s popped up.” Bernard concluded, a horrified look on his face.

“Wait. So you’re saying…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m…”

“Mother Nature appointed you Spring Enchantress to throw him off of your scent.” He said. “That has to be it. It’s the only explanation.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, fingers shaking as you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “I…I mean, wouldn’t I know? I’m not…special. Not like that…”

“Are you kidding me?” Bernard asked, incredulous. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. (Y/N), I’ve seen your magic. It’s the only think keeping me alive right now. It…” He reached for your hand, positioning your palm so it was facing upwards and as soon as he did, a wave of stunning Northern Lights glowed between your fingers. “Do you see that? I’ve seen Aurora magic. This is that. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner…��

“Woah.” Scott muttered, eyes falling on the scene unfolding between the two of you.

You curled your fingers, pulling the magic back into yourself and extinguishing the light. You sat with it for a moment and met Bernard’s gaze. “He tried to kill me.” You murmured, tears brimming in your eyes. “He tried to kill me for…for power? For a title?”

“We’re not going to let him get away with it.” Scott stated, fire in his gaze. “We’re not going to let him get away with any of it.”

You felt a tingling on your head and watched as white trickled from your scalp down to the ends of the piece of hair at the front of your face. Your heart raced and you touched the hair with shaking fingers.

It was real now. You were the Winter Aurora. And you had a feeling the closer you got to the Pole, the more evident that would become…

***

By the time the plane landed, the three of you were settled on a plan. Scott, Jack’s biggest priority, would cause a distraction, buying time for you two. Bernard would find the elves and try to snap them out of it. You, as the only one Jack wouldn’t fully recognize, would go find the snow globe and get it to Scott so he could undo his wish and fix everything.

Was it a perfect plan? No. But it was all you had, so it would have to be enough.

You walked off of the plane together, hoping the streak of white in your hair wouldn’t draw too much attention. Once you were inside the gates, the three of you huddled, finalizing your plan.

“You’re going to be fine on your own? Do you know how to get to the snow globe room?” Scott checked.

“I’m…being here…yeah, I’m definitely gonna be able to find it.” You nodded, still completely blown away by the powerful waves of magic, hitting you all at once for the first time. “It’s all coming back to me.”

Bernard grinned, hopeful. “Good. Good luck.”

“You too. Stay safe. I…I really don’t trust him. What he’s capable of…” You said warily.

The Head Elf shook his head, confident. “Is nothing compared to what you are.”

“Let’s save Christmas.” Scott announced.

The three of you split off. You watched as Bernard and Scott walked away together, Scott playfully nudging Bernard. About what, you couldn’t be certain, but you had a pretty good feeling it had something to do with you.

Cheeks flushed for more reason than one, you took off, following the swirling feeling around your heart, dodging past security elves with a stealth and speed you didn’t know you possessed. It was like muscle memory, suppressed very deep in the core of your being. A power you had never tapped into, but one that was quick to embrace you. You felt it in your soul, the Pole wanted you there, and it was very glad you’d returned.

Following the instructions Scott and Bernard had given you, you walked briskly down the corridors, slinking past bakery elves on their way to one of the many tourist eating spots. The workshop itself sat big and empty, barely an elf in sight. The few that were there looked tired, sad, working on tacky Santa Claus bobble heads and cheap gift shop pens. It broke your heart.

Distant voices echoed against the cavernous halls. In your mind, you heard echoes, too. Laughter and love and light, elves building toys, creating things together, working to make the kids of the world happy, no matter what it took. The workshop had been wrapped in pine trim and string lights, warm and bright.

Now, it sat dark and empty.

You wiped a tear from your cheek and continued down the hall, to where the entrance to the Hall of Snowglobes was. And at its entrance, was Betty, who stared at you for a long moment as though trying to place where she recognized you from, but quickly shook it off.

“You can’t be back here. No visitors allowed. I can escort you back to the main area, though.” She offered, smiling.

“Your name is Betty, right?”

She hesitated. “How did you…? Nevermind that, you’re still not allowed back here.”

“I have to be back here.” You told her. “It’s important. The fate of Christmas depends on it.”

“Well, the fate of Christmas depends on me doing my job, so if you’ll follow me this way.”

“I can’t do that, Betty.” You shook your head. “And I know you don’t want to either. Don’t you see that all of this is wrong? That what Jack’s done to the Pole, the capitalism, the resort, the gift shops, the reindeer in the petting zoo, this is not what Christmas is supposed to be. You know that. I know you know that.”

Betty’s features saddened and for a moment, you thought you’d won her over until she reached for a walkie talkie. “Security, we’ve got a tourist that needs to be removed from the Workshop.”

“Great.” You huffed, summoning your power to your hand, just as Bernard had shown you. But instead of sending a blast of energy at her, you let it slowly waft over, rainbow colors and dancing lights slowly enveloping her. As the magic hit her face, she blinked through it, eyes awash in the pinks and teals and purples. Yet another streak of white flowed through your hair.

She dropped to her knees and stared up at you, tears in her eyes as it all came flooding back. Her voice fell to a whisper. “You’re our Aurora.”

“I am.” You nodded, feeling confident in your title for the first time. “And I need your help. We don’t have much time.”

“Bernard, he’s gone! He—”

“He came here with me. We have to hurry. We need that snow globe.” You told her and she nodded.

You helped Betty to her feet and she ushered you into the Hall of Snowglobes, carefully plucking the little glass orb that had started all of this off of its pedestal and handing it to you. You held it with careful hands, admiring it. It was beautiful, if not absolutely dangerous.

“We’ve gotta get this to Santa.” You told her.

She nodded, following you out of the Workshop and into the bustling center of town, an absolute sensory overload if there ever was one. Tourists packed the streets, vendors were shouting over the noise, and above it all, speakers were blaring Jack’s Christmas Album, each new song worst than the one before it.

There was a massive stage, covered in fake ice and bright lights, and on said stage, was him, Jack Frost in all of his faux Santa glory, his red suit iced at the ends, hair spiked and ridiculous, like icicles. Behind him, was a row of toy soldiers and in their grasp was none other than Bernard, eyes wide in fear as Jack manifested a blast of snow in his hand.

“(Y/N)!” Scott shouted over the crowd, waving wildly to get your attention.

“Get this to Scott.” You handed the snow globe to Betty, urgency in your voice and your eyes. “I’ve gotta get Bernard.”

“On it.” She took the globe from you and weaved through the crowd expertly. You ran towards the stage as though everything was moving in slow motion.

“This guy isn’t Santa! He’s trying to ruin Christmas!” Bernard shouted, voice cracking as he did.

Jack laughed loudly, and the crowd assembled did the same. “Do you hear him? I am Santa! Without me, there would be no Christmas! What gives you the right to say any of this?”

“I’m the Head Elf!” Bernard insisted, struggling against the toy soldiers. “I’ve seen a thousand Christmases and dozens of Santas! You are nothing compared to any of them!”

“Alright, tough guy, you think I’m not Santa? How about I show you what a real Santa is capable of?” Jack threatened, ice in his voice. He raised his hand to freeze Bernard and you dove onto the stage, tackling Jack to the ground, earning a loud gasp and several concerned voices from the crowd.

“Don’t you dare touch him, you fucking narcissistic popsicle!” You shouted, getting a good punch in before retreating to Bernard’s side, kicking the toy soldier behind him and pulling apart the large ribbon bow binding his wrists. Parents covered their children’s ears, shielding them from the harsh language. Some of the crowd cleared out, retreating to a safer distance, while others pulled out their phones, desperate to go viral on YouTube.

“Come on.” You grabbed Bernard’s hand and he squeezed yours, following you off of the stage and through the crowd to where Scott stood with the snow globe. He shook it and made a wish, but nothing happened.

“What?” Scott asked, trying again. “It won’t work.”

“It’s the Escape Clause.” Bernard closed his eyes, remembering the rules. “Jack made this wish. He’s…he’s Santa now; he’s the only one who can undo this.”

“Oh my god.” A wave of dread flowed over you.

“And those, my dears, are the words I will never utter.” Jack said, dusting himself off and sauntering over to the four of you, his security not far behind, ready to apprehend all of you. “It was a nice try, though. Really valiant effort, all four of you. Scott, Bernard, Betty…and you. I can’t say I recognize you.”

“Maybe if you had half a braincell, you would.”

He scoffed, offended. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. They’ll figure that much out when they get you to jail, I suppose.” He shrugged and the security officers seized the four of you, taking the snow globe and giving it back to Jack. He tossed it in the air cockily a few times before chuckling. “You know, I don’t need this thing. I’m never going to wish all of this away.”

Frost tendrils crept up the glass dome and in a great burst of light, it shattered. You gasped, feeling the magic settle. This was it. This was reality now. There was no way to undo it.

“O-oh.” Bernard took a stuttered breath, faltering. He collapsed to the ground and you pushed away from security, rushing to his side and collecting him in your arms.

“Bernard?”

He shook his head. You raised a hand to give him more of your magic, but he lowered it with his own. “You have to finish this, Aurora.” He said, eyes serious, glimmering despite the pain you could tell he was in. “You’re the only one who can.”

He leaned forward, a hand brushing the hair away from your face, capturing your lips with his own, his kiss soft and tender, tasting faintly of peppermint, and then he disappeared in a burst of sparkles, his silver and gold magic drifting forward into your chest.

You gasped, tears rolling down your cheeks, arms empty and heart emptier. “No! NO! What did you do to him?” You turned, facing Jack.

“The only thing I could. Protecting Christmas from the likes of you.” He shrugged. “What was it he called you? Autumn? Is that your name? Autumn?”

“No.” You told him, rising to your feet, pure magic lifting you from the ground and setting you on your feet.

His eyes widened and he took a step back.

“I’m the Aurora.” You rose into the air, teals and purples and pinks swirling around you in a rush of power. You raised your hand, manifesting the snow globe within it, its broken shards reforming in your grasp, effortless and precise. Once it was whole again, you shook it, magic swirling within its waters, overriding the rules of the Escape Clause with rules of your own.

A voice came out of you then that you weren’t sure was your own. It came deep from your chest, echoing across the pole, accompanied by a wave of power, the same magic you’d used on Betty, but tenfold, fierce and fiery, prickling like static all down your arms as it left you.

“May Everything Return to the Way it Was Before, to the Way it was Always Meant to Be.”

And with one final rush of magic, everything went white.

***

It took a while for the picture to form in front of you, your hearing distorted, the colors slowly coming back one by one.

You were kneeling there in the center of the Workshop, which was full of elves, their work paused as they watched the scene unfolding. Scott was Santa once more, wearing his red undershirt and suspenders, looking jollier than you’d ever seen him. Carol stood beside him, looking confused.

Mother Nature was there, as was Tooth, and, of course, Jack Frost, wearing his signature blue suit as opposed to the red one he’d been wearing moments earlier.

You got to your feet, looking for Bernard in the crowd, but not finding him. Your heart lurched, your search brought to a halt by Jack’s nasally voice.

“Aw, come on now, kid, no hard feelings, right?”

Rather than replying, you wound up and punched him square in the jaw with more force than you were used to possessing.

“OOOOOOOH…” The elves murmured, wincing as Jack fell to the ground, gripping his face.

“I’m going to ask you one last time and you are going to answer me. What. Did you do to him.” You demanded, a fierce power zinging through you.

“I didn’t do anything to him! This is all a big misunderstanding! Right, Santa? Tooth? Back me up on this!” Jack groveled, shielding his face with both hands, cowering in fear.

“Can’t do that, Jack.” Scott shook his head. “You have to answer to her.”

“Where is Bernard?”

“I feel like there are more pressing issues at hand—” Jack deflected, shrinking further away from you.

“What’s that?” One of the elves asked, pointing to a column of sparkles manifesting beside you.

You turned to look, staring at it until it clicked. Reaching into yourself, you let the last pieces of Bernard’s magic flow out of your chest, where it had retreated for safekeeping. Silver and gold glitter rushed out of you, swirling from the ground up until he was standing there again, solid and real.

He all but collapsed into your arms, holding onto you tightly while he found his balance again.

“Bernard,” you sobbed, holding him close, your arms desperate to prove he was real again, that he was solid and wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey, no need for tears, Aurora. I’m alright.” He grinned, meeting your gaze. His hand rose to your cheek and he wiped your tears away as he took you in for all that you were. “Thanks to you, I am.”

“(Y/N)?” Mother Nature asked, voice soft and warm.

“I…I can explain.” You insisted, turning to face her.

“No need, dear one. I know why you’re here. I’ve always known.” She smiled, bowing her head. “And now that you’re here, we can finish this.”

You looked to Bernard and he nodded, letting go of you to give you a gentle push forward, his eyes proud and supportive.

“Kneel.” She instructed, and you did, dropping to one knee in front of her.

The elves fell silent, desperate to witness what was unfolding for the first time in centuries.

“(Y/N) (L/N), through your bravery and selflessness, you have proven what I’ve known all along. You are the Aurora Borealis, the Winter Guardian, and Protector of the North Pole and all her Magic. For the first time in five centuries, the North Pole has an Aurora, which means…” She looked to Jack, who shook his head desperately.

“No. No way. I am not giving an ounce of my power to that…that…she punched me! Twice! Did none of you see that? She’s violent!”

“After everything you did to the Auroras before her, you’re lucky all she did was punch you!” Bernard snapped, arms crossed. “Not to mention the fact you destroyed her house in an attempt to kill her.”

Jack gasped in faux shock. “What, me? I…I would never—!”

“Jack.” Mother Nature reprimanded sharply. “You don’t have to give her the power. It was never yours to begin with.”

She outstretched a hand and, as easily as turning on a faucet, the power he’d been given, the magical, dancing light, was siphoned out of him and floated straight into you. Your feet lifted from the ground, head tilting back as your body slowly rose from the floor, power greater than you’d ever seen or felt ebbing and flowing around you, changing you into the thing you were always meant to become: the Aurora Borealis.

Your hair fully turned white, glimmering like fallen snow, a few stray streaks of pink and purple and teal scattered throughout. Your skin took on a subtle sparkle, every part of you becoming stronger, right down to your fingernails. Your clothes were replaced with a simple, glittering dress, the color of the night sky.

Gently, you touched down again, fully reborn.

The elves murmured and whispered in awe and you looked around to find a row of proud faces.

Mother Nature stepped forward and took both of your hands in hers, meeting you face to face for the first time in three years. “Dear one, I am so sorry for everything you’ve been through. I should have warned you, I should have done more to ready you, but I didn’t and…I let you feel alone.”

“I am alive because of you. Because you misled him. Everything you did was to protect me. I understand that now.” You told her, voice smooth and confident.

She touched her forehead to yours for a moment before pulling away to meet your gaze again. “Then, dear one, I have one last question for you.”

“I’m ready.”

“Hereby and Forevermore, your duty as the Winter Aurora is to the North Pole. You are tasked with its safety and secrets, to protect all of its residents and the magic they hold. Do you accept the Title of Winter Guardian and all of the responsibilities it holds?”

“I do.” You nodded, meeting Bernard’s eyes for a brief moment, only to find the warmest, proudest smile on his face.

“Then this belongs to you.” In her hand, Mother Nature manifested a small, elegant silver tiara, embellished with glittering snowflakes. She set it gently in your hair, completing your transformation once and for all.

Jack started sneaking towards the door, but you lifted your hand, a wave of power rushing around him, turning him back towards the rest of you and giving him a push back towards the rest of you. He stumbled forward, looking around the group nervously.

“You’re—you’re not gonna kill me, right?” He asked. “You still need me! I’m the one who oversees the snow days and-and the snowmen! Think of the snowmen!”

“We do need a Jack Frost.” Mother Nature said. “Which is why while you were here terrorizing Santa, I was locating your successor. Jack, come on in.”

The doors of the Workshop opened and in walked a much younger man with shaggy white hair. Your best guess put him in his early twenties, and his wardrobe was much more modern than the other Jack’s as well, a blue hoodie adorned with silver swirls. He carried a large stick with a curve at the end of it, somewhat resembling a scythe.

“Nice to meet you.” He waved casually, leaning against his stick.

“My successor?” Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re firing me?!”

“Oh, we’re doing more than firing you.” Tooth chuckled. He looked to you. “Aurora, what do you think we should do with him?”

“He needs to be put…somewhere he can’t hurt anyone else.” You decided. You turned to the Head Elf and he perked up, interested to hear your suggestion. “Do you have a snow globe I could borrow?”

He grinned and reached into his satchel, pulling out a fresh one. “I like the way you think.”

“What? No! You can’t just—” Jack shook his head, looking to Santa, to Mother Nature, to even Mrs. Claus for some other solution.

“This is for all of the Auroras before me, for the elves you brainwashed and the reindeer you stuck in a petting zoo. You’ll have lots of time to think about what you’ve done. And maybe someday, in five hundred years or so, I’ll let you go live a boring human life.” You told him, taking the snow globe from Bernard and focusing.

There was a bright flash of sparkles and then it was done, Jack was trapped in the confines of the little snow globe in your hands and he looked very angry about it, but his complaints were too muffled to make them out clearly. Santa reached for the snow globe, so you handed it to him and he gave it an amused swirl.

“Well done, (Y/N).” He complimented, passing the snow globe to Curtis. “See to it that this gets locked away properly.”

“Will do, Santa.” Curtis nodded and headed off.

“Now, (Y/N), if you are going to be staying here, I suppose someone will have to show you around the place.” Santa smiled knowingly.

Bernard cleared his throat. “I believe that would be my responsibility as Head Elf, Santa.”

“Yes, I believe it would.”

The Head Elf offered you his arm and you gladly took it, letting him escort you up the stairs of the workshop and down the hall so the two of you could have a private moment. As soon as you were out of sight, he turned to face you, his hands cupping your cheeks, nose brushing against yours.

“See, I knew you were more of a Winter.”

“Do I look okay?”

“You’ve never looked better.” He murmured, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips to yours passionately. In your Mortal life, you’d had your fair share of kisses, but kissing Bernard was something else entirely. He was experienced, that was for sure.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Now, where would you like to explore first?”

***

Bernard took you around the Workshop, showing you all of the departments, which were full of elves, all of them working hard to ensure Santa was on schedule to leave that night. Bernard checked in with each of them as he did, making sure everything was going according to plan. Tooth and Mother Nature had stuck around to help out, and some of the other Legendary Figures had arrived as well, introducing themselves to you when you came around.

Finally, as the end of your tour, Bernard led you to an ornate set of stained glass double doors. As if by magic, they swung open when you approached, giving way to a beautiful bedroom, tall, arched ceilings, dancing Northern Lights projected across them. Stained glass windows, a large, wooden desk, hardwood floors and shelves and shelves of books. There was a carved armoire in the corner of the room, and against the leftmost wall, on a platform, was a giant canopy bed.

“This is the Aurora’s suite. You can decorate however you’d like. I had some elves from the interior design department get it fixed up for you.” Bernard explained, your arm looped through his, hand resting on his bicep. “If you’ll turn your attention right over here…”

He led you to the desk, dropping your arm and plucking something off of the desk. Your snow globe! The one he had given you three years before, still inscribed with those famous words that had started your entire adventure to begin with, the last remnant you had from this life before it was ripped away from you.

“My snow globe! How did you get it here?”

He shrugged, handing it to you. “My magic came back. Which means I can give this back to you.”

Bernard lifted his hand and you pressed yours against it, palm to palm. Gently, your power flowed from him back into you, a light breeze blowing through the room. He brushed your hair away from your face and pressed a long kiss to your cheek.

“There’s still a lot to do, but…I think we’re going to be able to pull everything together by tonight.”

“Well then you better get out there, Mr. Head Elf.” You smirked, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

He met your eyes, “You’ll be okay?”

“I’m going to be just fine.” You assured him, setting the snow globe back on the desk so you could rest your arms on his shoulders, his hands resting on your waist. “And after, you and I will have all the time in the world to figure this out.”

“Oh! I didn’t mean to interrupt…” Curtis muttered, standing in the doorway.

“Curtis!” Bernard exclaimed, his voice cracking.

You giggled when he abruptly pulled away to face his number two.

“The tree topper department needs an extra set of hands.” Curtis said, motioning back towards the workshop.

“Can I help?” You asked.

“Oh, Aurora, you don’t have to—” Curtis shook his head.

“Yeah, but…can I?” You asked, eyes curious.

Curtis grinned. “Yeah, of course.” He made eye contact with Bernard. “I like her already.”

Bernard gave you a nudge. “I do too.”

***

At Santa’s request, you met him and Bernard at the stable gates to see him off for your very first Christmas as the North Pole’s Guardian. Your heart was racing. You didn’t know what was expected of you or what you’d have to do, but Bernard was there, his smile ever so reassuring.

Some of the elves that worked with the reindeer helped get them all properly harnessed and ready for the flight, carefully attaching their reins to the sleigh. Bernard walked you through what you’d have to do. As one of the oldest elves in the Pole, he remembered the process well.

“It’s easy. All you’ll have to do is raise your hand.” He was standing right behind you and raised your hand with his own, positioning it just so. “And lower the barrier so Santa can leave. And if you can’t, we have controls for that now. It’s…mostly ceremonial at this point.”

“Well that does make me feel a little better.” You smiled, turning towards him.

“And, um, after, I think you should…check the armoire in your room. I left something for you.”

“Oh you did, did you?”

“Something for the party. You don’t have to wear it, though.” He shrugged awkwardly, cheeks extra rosy.

“And the party starts…?”

“The minute Santa gets back.” Bernard explained. “And then we get three months off and pick back up in March.”

“Alright.” You nodded, smiling. “Plenty of time for you to show me the ropes.”

“I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He smiled, looking both ways, but not risking a kiss, not with all of the elves assembled to send Santa off.

“Everything ready?” Scott checked, donning his famed coat and hat for the flight just as a few elves loaded the famous gift bag, filled to the brim and then some, onto the back of the sleigh.

“All set, Santa.” Bernard nodded.

Scott put a hand on your shoulder, the other on Bernard’s. “We owe this Christmas to you two. Wouldn’t be standing here without either of you.”

“All in a day’s work, Santa.” You smiled.

“I’ll see you when I get back. And then the real fun begins.”

“I’ll see to it that we have enough eggnog at the ready.” Bernard replied with a wink, which Santa laughed at.

“Excellent.” He climbed into the sleigh and gave you the signal.

Just as you’d practiced, you lifted a hand and focused on the barrier protecting the Pole, made of the same magic that flowed through your veins. Effortlessly, the veil parted, making way for Santa’s sleigh and the elves erupted into cheers as Scott flew off into the sky. Bernard cheered loudly, turning to you and scooping you up in his arms, spinning you around in his excitement. You squealed with laughter.

Once your feet were on the ground again, you met his eyes briefly before pressing the quickest of kisses to his cheek and walking over to Carol, who was smiling a proud, maternal smile.

“Let’s get you ready for that party, huh?” She asked, looping her arm around yours. “You’ll have to fill me in on everything you’ve been up to! It’s nice to have a human-ish woman around here again.”

“I missed you, Carol.”

“I missed you too, hon.”

***

The deliveries went on without a hitch and Scott was back at the Pole faster than you could sing the Twelve Days of Christmas. Carol, you, and Betty had gone into your room to prepare. Carol did your hair, perching your snowflake tiara perfectly atop your head. You felt like a princess.

Betty helped zip up the dress Bernard had left for you, an elegant silver gown with a layered skirt, a tasteful slit up the leg, and off the shoulder sleeves, a layer of tule on top that was embellished with silver stars.

“You look stunning.” Carol complimented, resting her chin on your shoulder as the two of you admired your reflection.

“Thanks to you.” You tilted your head. “I’m still getting used to the hair, but…I think it looks nice like this.”

“Makes you look like a superhero.”

“I kinda feel like one, too.”

“Well you should. Scott told me everything that happened. I’m glad you were there to help.”

“I’m glad I was, too.” You said, pausing before asking, “So…theoretically speaking of course, is there a rule prohibiting the Aurora from…dating?”

Betty gasped, smiling. “I knew it! You and Bernard—”

“You and Bernard?”  Carol asked, interested. “I never would have guessed.”

“Never?”

“Well, maybe a little.” She admitted, pinching her fingers together. “Saving the world together is a very romantic first date.”

“So…I am allowed to…date him?” You asked, earning a giggle from Betty.

“There is nothing, to my knowledge, prohibiting either the Aurora or the Head Elf from falling in love,” she reported. “But I can check the handbook if you want me too.”

“That is good to know.” You tapped your temple, laughing a bit.

Downstairs, you could hear the music pick up and the three of you took that as your cue to join the festivities.

Soon, you were standing at the rail overlooking the Workshop floor, where Bernard was standing, chatting with Curtis, Santa, and some of the other elves. As soon as he caught sight of you, he froze, his glass of eggnog halfway to his mouth and eyes locked on you.

You smiled coyly and lifted the skirt of the gown, carefully navigating down the stairs. He ditched his glass on a cluttered table and met you at the foot of the stairs, taking your arm.

He swallowed thickly, admiring you for a long moment before murmuring, “You look beautiful, Aurora.”

“Thank you, Bernard.” You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You picked a great dress.”

“Would you like to dance?”

“I’d love to.” You nodded, letting him lead you over to where the rest of the elves were paired up, swaying to a slow song. Your arms settled around his neck as he tugged you closer, a hand on your waist, the other finding your free hand.

It was clear in seconds that he knew how to dance, as he expertly spun you out and then back into him with ease, his chest flush against yours, mouth right against your ear. It was one of those moments you were forced to remember he’d lived a hundred lifetimes. He carried them well; he always had.

When the music picked back up, he said, “Let’s go get some air.”

You nodded, letting him lead you back up the stairs to the railing, where a few stray elves were also hanging out, getting some space from the heat of the party. The two of you leaned against the metal, looking down over your new home.

You were quiet for a long while before finally asking the question that had been on your mind since early that morning, in an airplane in another timeline. “Did you know her? The other Aurora?”

He nodded, face serious. “I knew her, yeah. I wasn’t Head Elf at the time, only second in command. She and I were acquaintances, but she was nice.”

“Mmm.” You hummed.

Bernard reached over and touched your hand. “I much prefer what you and I have this time around.”

“And what is it you and I have?” You asked.

“I’m…not sure yet.” Bernard shook his head, tugging you ever so closer, a gentle hand on your waist. “But I do know that in all of my 1600 years, I’ve never felt like this before. Even before, when you left, when I thought I’d never see you again, I was waiting for the day our paths would cross. I wish it had been under better circumstances, but…”

“But, I’m glad you found me.” You interjected, taking another step forward and resting your head on his shoulder.

Bernard leaned in to kiss you, but stopped, noticing all the elves watching. However, when you pointed straight up at a bundle of glowing mistletoe, he knew there was only one thing he could do…

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Ladies, thank you so much for agreeing to meet here at the Pole.” Mother Nature smiled at each of you, seated at the large round table in your office, which was, coincidentally, right down the hall from Bernard’s office.

Around the table were yourself, Mother Nature, and the three other Guardian Spirits, Briar Flores, Amber Sanderson, and Evangeline Cho, each of you dressed for your respective season, but Briar was absolutely glowing, as though a halo of light was positioned just behind her head at all times.

“Thank you for having us, (Y/N).” Briar thanked, bowing her head. “My place is absolutely a mess at the moment. Bunny has paint on just about every surface in the building.”

“Any time, Briar. This place has been quiet since the elves started their break. Things should be getting started up again soon, though.”

“If you need any help saving Christmas this year, you let us know.” Amber chuckled.

“Knock on wood Christmas doesn’t need saving this year.” You laughed, knocking on the table.

“I am serious, though, as soon as Easter is over, we all need to get mimosas and brunch. There is this lovely little island that is just so flowery and perfect this time of year, you’d all love it.” Briar beamed.

The rest of you murmured and nodded in agreement, stopping only when Evangeline looked up at the doorway, biting back a grin.

You looked up to see Bernard standing there, a bouquet of snowdrops in his hand.

“Hello, Bernard. How can I help you?”

“Oh, Aurora, I didn’t mean to interrupt. The guys in foliage need a second opinion when you have a minute.”

“Right, of course.” You nodded, looking to Mother Nature.

“Meeting adjourned. I’ll see you all next month for a progress report.” She smiled, straightening up her papers. The rest of you all stood up from the table and began to exit the office.

Mother Nature rested a hand on your shoulder, glancing back at Bernard. “You look really happy here, (Y/N).”

“I am really happy here.”

“Good, I’m glad.” She gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll see you next month.”

Once the others had scattered to the winds, Bernard walked into the office, closing the door behind him.

You quirked an eyebrow. “The guys in foliage, huh?”

“Partially. Partially just the Head Elf wanting to make sure his Aurora had something pretty to look at.” He whispered, an arm drawing you closer for a kiss that you gladly reciprocated.

“Your Aurora already has something pretty to look at.” You replied, a finger booping the end of his nose.

He shook his head, grinning. “Does the flirting never cease?” “Check in with me in a few hundred years.” You replied, setting the snowdrops in your vase before lacing your fingers through his, your other hand rising to rest on his arm as you walked out of the office and towards the large room you’d been using to train your powers. “Now, where were we with those lessons…?”

Tagged: @madameggroll, @capamericant, @midnightmisses, @five-hargreeves-apologist

#bernard the elf x reader #bernard imagine #bernard x reader #bernard headcanons #bernard #christmas #the santa clause

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Legolas & Aragorn - You Give Him The Silent Treatment

Legolas

- emotional cues are a little difficult for elves

- at first, Legolas doesnt even register that he’s done something to upset you. he assumes that for whatever reason, you want your own space for a while, and he doesnt mind that

- the tension between the two of you in passing is utterly lost to him, he genuinely doesnt even feel it because he’s an oblivious boy

- it’s only when his father, King Thranduil, alerts him of the situation that Legolas begins to understand

“The two of you had a disagreement and you refused to look at her while you were watching the hills, is this true?”

“Yes.”

“My son, when you talk to your love with eyes that linger anywhere but her, it will raise doubts from the grave that then torment her mind.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

- Legolas went on a mission to find you after that, and it didnt take him long

- you were sitting under a tree, reading a book of spells

- Legolas sat down in front of you

“Melamin(My love), are you alright?”

- you hummed in response, refusing to lift your gaze from the book

- Legolas sighed

“I am deeply sorry for the pain I have caused by being so oblivious to your feelings, it was not my intent. Human emotion is a subject I am yet to master, but I am sure that verbal communication could resolve this, so what do you say?”

- you didnt say anything. you slammed your book shut, stood up and walked away from him

- alarm bells rang inside the young elf’s head, this was far worse than he anticipated

- he ran after you and grabbed your wrist with determination, but enough sense to be gentle in his gesture

“Please, do not part with me when the storm still follows you.”

- it was your turn to sigh

“What is there to say? You thought you resolved the issue of ignoring me in sight by ignoring me in every other sense.”

- Legolas finally understood, you felt neglected

“Lirimaer(Lovely one), I have been a dreadful partner to you in allowing you to believe such falsehoods. There is no existence I treasure more than yours! I swear on my mother’s last breath, I will do everything to show my adoration in further ways that you understand.”

- you turned to face him, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time in a week

- you smiled, and his heart sang songs of pure bliss as he pulled you into his arms

“Will you give me the opportunity to prove that I am worthy of caring for your heart?”

“Legolas, proving that would be fruitless; my heart is yours for eternity regardless of your actions.”

“Then I will do well to make that a blessing rather than a burden.”

Aragorn

- your relationship with Aragorn remained a secret during the time spent with the Fellowship

- you didnt want to be recognised as a distraction to Aragorn or a tag-along, you wanted to be treated as an equal member of the team

- but in keeping your relationship a secret, Aragorn was a free man to any woman’s eyes, including Éowyn

- considering the circumstances, you had no right to be angry at her advances, but they boiled the blood in your veins to a heat even that Balrog couldnt stand

- the final straw came when your beloved drank from a goblet presented to him by Éowyn, and once he had gone, her uncle congratulated her on establishing a romance with Aragorn

- you stormed out of the bar and Aragorn ran after you, the streets of Rohan were quiet while every voice that resided there was hollering in the bar, meaning there was no reason to hide

- Aragorn ran in front of you and stopped, holding your shoulders and trying to read your countenance as you avoided his eyes

“My love, what vengeance is it that fuels you this night?”

- you just shook your head and tried to break free from his grasp, Aragorn frowned

“You wish to escape me, am I the source of your rage?”

- you scoffed and lifted your gaze to look at him with fire in your eyes

“Your ‘love’ is among the sea of voices concealed by those walls, is she not? The fair maiden who stole your heart, may the skies bless the happy couple! It is not my business to interfere with a man who is spoken for, I beg your forgiveness and part with sweet sorrows!”

- with that, Aragorn released you and you hid yourself away at the inn

- Aragorn was shaken, he could not believe how careless he had been with your feelings

- in keeping your relationship a secret, he had broken his promise of protecting you from harm, and he was to blame for your anguish

- he visited the door of your room at the inn every single day, bringing you flowers and fruits he had picked himself, but you never answered the door

- on the seventh day, there was a gentle tap on the window that awoke you from a restless sleep

- you tried to fall back into your slumber, but another tap on the window disturbed you

- rubbing your eyes tiredly, you stepped out of bed and shuffled over to the window in your nightdress

- you frowned as you remembered you were on the second floor, nobody could reach you from the window, could they?

- pushing open the small wooden doors, you were greeted by the early morning sun, and the view of Aragorn standing on the grass below you, a collection of pebbles in his hand

- he grinned as he saw you, clearing his throat before he began to dramatically shout up at you

“And there she is! My sweet angel, the only mortal fairer than any elf could dream of being! The keeper of my heart, my sun, my sea, my skies - who need not bless the happy couple, because the happy couple is blessed enough to be!”

- a crowd began to gather around Aragorn as he drew attention to himself with his monologue, the Fellowship joined him at his sides, all of them appearing unsurprised by his confession, Pip and Merry even exchanging food in the form of a bet, had they known all this time?

- Éowyn watched on from a few feet away, appearing happy and also unsurprised, had Aragorn spoken to her about this?

- Aragorn looked at the ground in disdain

“But I have wronged her, scorned her, brought tears to the delicate flower I promised to protect! I am a fool, not of a Took, but of a man!”

- he lifted his head to smile at you again

“It is I, who must beg your forgiveness, and I will do so in a way that reveals my heart’s devotions.”

- with that, Aragorn lowered himself to his knees, everyone in the crowd gasping, your eyes widening as you covered your mouth with your hands

- Aragorn raised his hands to you in a prayer position

“Will you give a beggar one last kiss?”

- you grinned and ran from the window, out of the door to your room, down the stairs and out of the inn, directly into the (still kneeling) Aragorn, who immediately wrapped his arms around you

- you kissed him with passion that was perhaps inappropriate given the number of witnesses, but neither of you seemed to care

- when you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, and Aragorn grinned

“Was that the last kiss?”

- you shook your head

“The first of many.”

#aragorn #legolas #aragorn x reader #legolas x readeer #aragorn imagine #legolas imagine #x reader #lord of the rings #lotr #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

[brabblesblog]

Ch 8: Thou hast ravished my heart with thine eyes.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

The party is in full swing. Ban and Astarion’s relationship is redefined.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Ban stepped out of the bedroom, surprised to see the Ascendant right by the door. She had purposefully delayed joining the party, half hoping he’d be too occupied by then to notice her.

She didn’t realize how much she actually consumed his thoughts; didn’t realize that in her absence he hadn’t really found any meaning to the scheming, merely going through the motions.

He offered her his arm, taking a quick, appreciative look at her body. The halter top was a good choice - it showed off well-defined shoulders, and Astarion itched to sink his teeth into the belly of the muscle.

“They’re here,” he said as she linked arms with him. She took a deep breath and he finally realized that she was nervous.

He turned to her, determined. “Whatever happens, Ban, I’m not letting them touch a hair on your head. I promise.”

Astarion knew it to be true. This was one thing both sides of him could agree on - he would let the world burn to keep her safe, himself included if need be.

As they made their way to the ballroom, Ban noticed that he had prepared. He'd summoned more minions than ever before, and various combinations of werewolves, skeletons, and ghasts were stationed at regular intervals. For the first time, his display of power didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. She pressed closer to him, their sides touching as they walked.

They reached the double doors of the ballroom; she squeezed his arm, one final gesture of gratitude and fear. Astarion drank in the moment; he hadn’t felt needed, wanted, or even seen by her of late. Today, he was getting it all, and he found himself being more willing to let his guard down as a result.

“You’ll be okay.” There was no need for pet names, not when it was just him and the only person he’d ever cared about. “We get through this party, and I shall get my reward.”

She laughed, and he felt his heart swell.

“And after that?”

He looked away. He had ideas, but he didn’t think now was the right time to say them.

“We’ll have eternity to figure it out.” A wave of affection came over him, and before he could think too much, he pressed a little kiss to her cheek.

He squeezed her hand, their arms still interlinked. He opened the door, and the Ascendant and his consort entered the ballroom.

Ban spotted the leader of the coven instantly. Human, with cropped raven-black hair and broad, well-built shoulders. In another life, she might have been attracted to the sight. He had two elves with him, both ethereally beautiful and scantily dressed, each draped on an arm.

Compared to them, she was positively masculine. Ban sighed at the thought, brushing it off.

The vampire spotted them and turned, making a beeline for them. Ban felt Astarion straighten up, and so did she.

“Astarion.” The man offered his hand to the Ascendant, and Astarion took it in a quick grasp. He noticed to his displeasure that the other vampire was a good head taller than him.

“Vel Stedez.” Astarion inclined his head in acknowledgement, and then tilted it back so that he was able to look the taller man in the face without craning his neck. He’d always been a master at looking up at someone taller than him while still giving the impression that he was looking down at them, and it proved useful at this moment.

“This is Ban.”

She curtsied, and Vel gave her a bow in return.

“The daywalking consort. I have heard so much about you.” Vel gestured to the ladies beside him. “Enxisys and Miaxisys Flendror - my favoured spawn.”

Ban realized with dawning horror that the two elves were related - possibly even twins. She quickly masked it.

Astarion kissed each of their hands. “Charmed,” he murmured, and both girls tittered. They obviously liked what they saw, eyes hungrily taking in Astarion’s features. The Ascendant returned their gaze with equal, albeit manufactured, intensity, knowing how to play this role far too well.

Vel’s eyes were intense, a maroon so dark it was almost black. He stared at Ban, at the way her dress clung to her body. Her skin crawled at the sensation.

“A unique specimen, for sure,” he told the Ascendant. “I can see why you chased her all the way to Waterdeep.” He turned his gaze to Astarion, and its coldness reminded him so much of Cazador that his hands twitched and he had to stop himself from going for the other vampire’s throat.

“A word of advice, fledgling. That is exactly why you create spawn. Not brides.” He leveled another long, lecherous look at Ban, one that made no pretense about what he was staring at. “Spawn do not go off gallivanting, forcing you to chase after them like a lovesick pup.”

Vel took a step forward with sudden speed, grabbing Ban by the jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. She flinched, and Astarion bared his fangs, his control over his rage hanging by a thread.

“Do be careful, Vel,” he snarled. “It wouldn’t be wise to be rude to your host. Release her.”

Vel gave Astarion a glance, then pointedly ignored him in favor of Ban. “I would so enjoy you, gorgeous. I love it when they fight back, and I can tell you’d be feisty.” Astarion hissed and reached out for Vel’s arm, but before he could make contact, Vel dropped his hand. He eyed Ban head to toe once more, his tone turning rueful. “But alas, your lord has said I cannot borrow you. Such a shame,” he tutted.

Astarion couldn’t stop the exhale of relief that came out of him. He didn’t move, but all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her and take her away from this.

Instead, he tried to redirect. “I don’t like sharing my things,” he drawled, adopting a bored, dispassionate tone. Inside, he was becoming increasingly more panicked. Vel’s interest in Ban was greater than he’d anticipated and he was worried he might not be able to protect her as well as he’d planned. If he couldn’t keep his promise, she’d leave again. He’d never see her, never touch her, she’d never let him win her back. “I find doing so makes them less… pristine. Why, Vel - would you have allowed me to fuck these two lovely ladies, had I asked?”

Vel grinned widely, and Astarion’s heart dropped. In his panicked rush to find a response, he’d bungled it. Shit.

“I would!” The taller man clapped his hands together. “If you would be amenable to a swap after all, I would be most happy to-“

“No.” Astarion couldn’t completely hide the disgust in his tone. “A gracious offer, but as I previously mentioned - I am not looking to share what is mine.”

“So be it,” Vel said coolly, but his eyes shone with malice. “Just a dance with your dear consort, then?” The word consort was said disdainfully, as though Vel thought of the idea of having one absurd.

Before Astarion could answer, Ban made the choice for him. She slipped her hand off Astarion’s arm and raised it, meeting Vel’s outstretched arm. The Ascendant was barely able to mask his fear and worry for her, but he nodded.

“Enxisys. Miaxisys. Keep the Ascendant entertained, will you?”

The twins moved to either side of Astarion. He linked arms with them reluctantly, not seeing much choice in the matter. As Vel took Ban to the dance floor, Astarion sat on his throne, a girl on each leg. He swallowed once, slipping himself into the role that must be played, then briefly reached out to Ban’s mind.

Be careful.

As Ban was swept across the room in a gentle waltz, she glanced over to see Astarion being fed grapes by the twins. She bit back a surge of jealousy, then turned her attention to Vel.

“So. Daywalking,” Vel said, leaning closer to speak above the din of the party, “How do you manage that?”

The truth wouldn’t hurt them. If anything, it could serve to show how powerful Astarion had become and thus discourage any nefarious plots by Vel.

“My Lord extends some of his gifts to me, as a boon,” she said automatically.

The vampire laughed. “And he did so, even when you were in Waterdeep? Don’t deny it. I have reports of you walking in the markets.” He shook his head. “I should have known Cazador’s spawn would be so feeble. The power of the ascension was wasted on him.”

Ban couldn’t help the growl that escaped her at his words.

Vel, emboldened by the idea of Astarion’s impotence, pulled Ban tighter to his body so that they were chest to chest.

“What would Astarion say, hm?” He forcefully pressed Ban against him, his hand moving down to grab her ass and squeeze tightly. The other hand slid to her hip.

She yelped, her mind blanking in fear. She froze, her mind automatically searching for Astarion’s, but before she even made contact she could hear his voice.

“I’d like my wife back, if you don’t mind.” His tone was perfectly level, but his eyes were glinting with barely concealed rage. Enxisys and Miaxisys trailed just behind him, looking disconcerted - he had obviously eluded them in his rush to intervene.

Vel held still for a moment, considering defying Astarion. Then he laughed and with one final squeeze of Ban’s ass, let her go. “Of course.”

She was still frozen, eyes unable to meet Astarion’s. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist. For a moment, he felt a thrum of energy and worried she’d inadvertently put the wards up in her panic, but he was too worried about her to care about it possibly hurting him. Thankfully, his hand settled against her without any resistance and he pulled her against his chest. He held her close, taking a moment to ensure she was alright. Then he glared at Vel.

Vel watched this with amusement. “Wife, Astarion? You really do give your creation too much power. If I may suggest a firmer ha-”

Long fingers wrapped around Vel’s throat, cutting off his words as his feet were lifted several inches off the ground, Astarion dangling the taller man by the neck with no visible effort.

“A firmer hand, you say?” Astarion drawled with sinister delight.

Vel’s face was a picture of confident arrogance, his smile tinged with faint amusement. He reached up to pry the hand from his neck, the arrogant smirk beginning to wane when his strongest effort had no effect whatsoever. Miaxisys and Enxisys gasped, both taking a half-step towards the Ascendant, freezing in place when he turned to give them a look that dared them to try. In the background, a cacophony of growls and hisses reverberated around the room, Astarion’s summons responding to their master’s fury.

A small, strangled noise escaped Vel - more humiliation and bafflement than actual suffocation - and Astarion fixed his gaze on him. “I did warn you not to be rude, Vel.” His hand tightened a fraction, fingernails digging into skin; Vel would have marks for at least a few hours after this encounter. “Now, apologize to my wife.”

Vel huffed in indignation, but the hand around his throat tightened further, and he choked out a quiet “My apologies, Ban,” his eyes burning with loathing… and just the slightest hint of fear.

“One more chance; violate our hospitality again, and you will return to Waterdeep in pieces.”

His countenance cooled almost instantly and he dropped Vel unceremoniously. As the other man caught himself, rubbing his bruised throat, Astarion rearranged his coat, features sliding into a veneer of calm politeness once again.

“Take your time, Vel. Miaxisys, Enxisys - a pleasure having you here.” He gave the spawn a small bow. “Please, enjoy the rest of the night.”

Before Vel could say anything damning, Astarion took Ban away, leading her into the thick of the crowd on the dance floor.

The moment they were in the middle of the crowd, Astarion wrapped both arms around her waist and held her. She buried her head against his chest. He tried to peer at her face.

“Are you okay?” he said, keeping his voice low.

Ban could smell the twins’ perfume on him, but it didn’t bother her. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze, and in that moment she felt as if the ascension had never happened at all - he was here in her moment of need. She nodded, hoping to reassure him.

“I’m fine. He got handsy, but that’s all.” She could see him scanning her face, trying to gauge the truth of her words. Seemingly satisfied, he exhaled.

Ban tapped her temple. Speak here.

I don’t think we’re rid of him yet, unfortunately, Astarion replied. However, with any luck, the other covens won’t want to interfere with a conflict like this. Territorial disputes are one thing - but interfering with someone else’s bride is another matter entirely. He cupped her cheek, his fingers shaking from the intensity of his anger. He hurt you. He made me break my promise. His eyes were soft for a moment more, and then they hardened at the thought of Vel Stedez attempting to take his treasure right under his nose. In the heart of his palace, no less.

That prick, he hissed into her mind. You’re mine. You will only ever be mine. His voice was rough, even over the bond, the wounded pride coming to play. I should have staked him where he stood.

Astarion, Ban murmured, and just his name was almost enough to snap him out of it. Is that all that matters to you? That he tried to take what’s yours?

She looked disappointed. She was hoping he was starting to understand what she wanted from him, and this sounded like a step backwards.

To her immense delight, the Ascendant shook his head, looking away. Possessing her was part of it, of course, but he was more worried about her than anything else. For now, that small gesture was all he had the bravery to manage; speaking the words would make it too real.

Ban knew all too well what that look meant, why Astarion suddenly looked off to the side - he was feeling a little too vulnerable. She decided to give him her understanding in terms that he'd be more willing to accept, knowing words were often difficult for him.

She cupped his face in both hands and before he could react, she kissed his lips. She tried to set the pace of the kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth, hoping he’d let her continue the dynamic they had earlier in the day.

He smiled into the kiss, returning it just as eagerly, his tongue finding its way into her mouth in return. When he pulled away, his eyes were shut, his breathing hard and fast. “Have I behaved well enough, now?” he whispered.

She slid her hands from his cheeks to his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart.

He smiled wider at that. “For you,” he murmured. “It only races for you.”

His hands dropped to her ass, and he opened his eyes. Without a word, he slowly led her to his throne. He took a seat and pulled her to his lap, her skirt fanning out over his legs, covering them both. She scooted a little more towards his torso, settling her ass higher up on his thigh. She shifted her weight against his groin, watching his eyes widen and then narrow at her.

“Bad girl,” he growled, a hand coming up to grip her thigh in turn.

“I think we both know you’re not the one barking commands today, Astarion.”

He scowled, but it was soon replaced by an exaggerated sigh. Of course. “If you must,” he said resignedly, pretending that he didn’t feel the bolt of excitement that shot straight to his cock.

As they sat on the throne surveying the party, Ban slipped the hand closest to Astarion beneath her skirt, cupping him through his trousers. He couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way his body jerked up to meet her touch. He was already growing hard, and he felt the familiar urge to fuck her senseless roaring back to life.

“Pretty good party,” she drawled, “I see you managed well even without me.”

The hand on his cock squeezed, and she began to stroke along his now rock-hard length. He fought the urge to buck, one hand clutching the armrest in a viselike grip, the other fisted in Ban’s skirt.

“Ban-” he choked out. More, he thought desperately, longing for there to be nothing between her skin and his. He wanted this. No. He thought he needed this - this new, delicious feeling of letting go, of letting his pleasure take precedence.

She laughed softly, leaning back to whisper against his ear. Her breath tickled the edge, making him shiver. “Say please.”

Astarion considered denying her, but the urge to assert control didn’t stand a chance against the raging inferno of his desire for her. He relented. “Please.” His hips rolled a little, pressing his cock against her hand. The pleasure was immense, and he could feel himself throbbing with need.

“Mm. I think… you can do better than that.” She stopped touching him, drawing her hand away, and the loss of sensation nearly wrested an unbecoming whimper from him.

His cock twitched, straining against the fabric. He shifted his hips and adjusted himself, easing the pressure a little.

His next words were frantic. “Okay. Okay. Ban - please. I want you to touch me.”

She nodded, considering that enough. She found the buttons of his trousers, popping them open and letting him spring free. Astarion exhaled, swallowing down a whine as she wrapped her hand around his cock.

Ban huffed a laugh. “You’re so hard, Astarion, gods.”

Hidden under her skirt and her body covering them from prying eyes, she began to stroke him. She swiped her thumb across his tip, collecting the fresh precum and spreading it as she thumbed circles around his cockhead. She could feel his cock pulsing in her palm and it was a glorious thing, the way he responded to her touch. Try as he might to keep still, his hips still bucked subtly.

Astarion forced his eyes ahead. His grip on the armrest was now painfully tight, and part of him worried he’d crack the wood.

“I’m aching for you too, don’t worry,” Ban whispered, “Imagine, Astarion, if it was my heat taking you right now. Squeezing around you.” She leaned back to watch him struggle, and then licked the tip of his ear.

He couldn’t quite hold this moan in, and it escaped as a small, strangled noise. He desperately needed to rut harder, and he obliged himself a little, rolling his hips at a slightly different angle. He twitched in her grasp, and she smirked as she felt him throb.

“You want to come?” She asked, glancing over at him.

He nodded violently, hands trembling. He had been left wanting all day, since that first little tease, and he felt frenzied, wild, like he might die if he couldn’t have her soon.

“Please.” It grated on him somewhat to say it, but to his surprise and delight he realized he trusted her enough to play along - in fact, he was enjoying it.

“I think not. If you come here, you’ll stain your pretty clothes. Everyone will see. We can’t have that, can we?”

She stopped stroking his cock, and the loss made him ache. He knew she was right, but he was so delirious with need that he considered telling her fuck it and just bending her over in front of the whole party. If not for Vel and his prurient interest in Ban, he would likely do exactly that.

She considered their predicament for a moment, and then smiled. “We could slip away for a quick moment, if that’s what my lord wishes?”

Astarion nodded frantically. All too eager, he quickly reached in to tuck himself back into his trousers. As Ban stood, so did he, and he used her body to hide his raging erection from the crowd. They managed to sneak off to the hallway and into their bedroom; Astarion snapped the door shut.

“Fuck me,” he hissed, all pretense gone. But she only laughed.

“So impatient,” she teased.

He growled, a little of his usual arrogance coming through as he crowded her against a wall. His hands grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.

“I know you want to,” he said, in between kisses to her lips and throat. “I know you’re wet for me, darling, just as I ache for you. I know you want my come inside you. So how about I give it to you?”

Ban felt her core contract at his words, aching to be filled.

Astarion released her wrists to ruck her skirt up, but she stopped him.

“I didn’t say you could.”

For the first time, it didn’t even cross his mind to fight her, the usual sting of his pride being forced down entirely absent. In that moment, he realized why allowing her dominion over him felt so right. When she took control, she was fully present - there was no resignation or absence in her. She actively chose every kiss, every caress, every drop of pleasure she bestowed upon him. In this, he found a fierce joy; there was no room for arrogance or pride. Instead, there was only the throbbing need in his cock and her sheer closeness. He could smell her arousal mingling with his own, and the heady scent - one he thought he’d never get to enjoy again - almost drove him insane.

“Please, Ban,” he whimpered, and it was the easiest those words have ever left his lips. “I’m begging you. Fuck me. Ride me.” He ground against her, feeling her moist heat through his trousers.

Any further words were lost as she kissed him again, her hands lifting her skirt to reveal her glistening mound. He reached for her with his free hand, his thumb finding her clit and tracing circles around it without breaking the kiss. The other hand eagerly cupped her breast, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. He found her already soaking wet, her entrance slick and warm and so ready for him. His hips ground against her erratically, his cock absolutely begging for friction, rhythm be damned.

“Astarion,” she warned, “You don’t need to. Just let me give you pleasure for once. That’s it. Nothing else.”

He was uneasy about that. For two hundred years, sex had been a performance, sometimes a torturous one. There had been scores of cruel lovers, who had enjoyed bringing him to the brink and then refusing him relief. His body had responded against his will, and the need had always been fiery and desperate and painful, all the same. With her, especially before the ascension, he had slowly been learning to enjoy himself in the moment, learning to trust that she’d give him what he wanted - what he needed. However, that had been quite some time ago. Whenever they’d made love in the last few months, it had felt like she was going through the motions, and that had made him resort to his old tricks to elicit some kind of response.

But he rediscovered a truth he’d always known before and had forgotten since his ascension. He could trust her. He didn’t have to perform for her. Ever. He merely had to be real.

“I want to,” he murmured, “I want to make you come. And then I want you to ride me.” He met her gaze. “Please let me.”

She nodded. Astarion smiled, and then fell to his knees in front of her. As his deft hands worked to undo his trousers and free his aching cock, he buried his face in her sex. His left hand spread her open and his tongue swiped at her engorged clit, then lapped at her entrance.

Delicious.

His right hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself fast and hard. He squeezed lightly as he did, his hips pistoning as he fucked his hand, desperately chasing his release.

Ban looked down to see him buried nose deep in her groin, tongue fucking her, his thumb rubbing her clit while he touched himself. His ass clenched with every frantic thrust. She threaded her fingers through his hair, but didn’t pull.

“Astarion. Don’t come like that. You know where I want it.” Where we both want it.

He backed off enough to meet her gaze, and the sight of his chin and mouth coated in her wetness made her groan.

“I know.” The smirks and the arrogance were gone; all that was left was Astarion and his blinding devotion to her. “I won’t come until you tell me to, and I’ll do it where you want me to.”

Absolute trust. It was entirely novel to the Ascendant, but it felt right.

Ban smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. “Good.”

With that, Astarion resumed his work, his lips wrapping around her clit. He sucked, his tongue flicking against her flesh. He let go of his cock to grip her hip, pressing her closer to him and urging her to fuck his mouth.

She obliged, hips gliding as she rubbed against his tongue and lips. He could feel his cock aching, begging for something - anything, but that didn’t matter much right now. All he could think about was how she tasted, how she ground herself against his face, how her hand fisted in his curls. He gently, carefully pressed a fang against her clit, dragging it along the surface, holding her hips still as she writhed with the sensation.

That alone almost brought her to her peak; she released her grip on Astarion's hair, covering her mouth to stifle her moans.

Astarion, sensing how close she was, flattened his tongue and continued to lap at her entrance and the bottom of her clit, while his thumb slid over the top, rubbing faster and faster. The twitching of his neglected cock was barely an afterthought; he knew his own release would soon follow.

Ban moaned his name as she rode the wave of her orgasm, her knees buckling. His name was a fervent prayer from her lips, a worshipful sound that never failed to go straight to Astarion’s cock. He held her up throughout, his tongue and thumb still working until she squirmed from overstimulation.

He gave her one last lick from entrance to clit and then pulled away, making a show of licking his fangs and lips as he met her gaze.

“May I?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yes, you may. I'd ride you, but I think we're too far gone for that. Fuck me. Take your pleasure from me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Astarion stood, hand pumping his cock as he lined himself up with Ban’s entrance. Without further delay, he buried himself to the hilt, sliding home with no resistance. She was slick and warm and perfect. He groaned, pressing their foreheads together; he had been dreaming of this for so long.

Ban could smell herself on his breath, and she leaned in to kiss him as he began to fuck her. This time, there was no performance from either of them. Astarion’s hips thrust of their own accord, and they did not roll like they usually did when he wanted to make her come. Instead he pumped in and out, hips pistoning at a punishing pace. He gripped her ass with both hands, pressing her closer to him, burying himself as deeply as he could with every thrust.

Their tongues tangled in a mess of breaths and moans, and Astarion could feel his balls tightening as he approached his climax. Good - so good, having her here, taking her, sinking my cock deep inside her heat, where it belongs, has always belonged. More, he thought, more and more forever because I want and need and miss you so much.

Ban placed a hand on his chest, feeling the roaring thunder of his heart, tongue finding a fang and pressing on it until she drew blood. He whined at the taste, eagerly lapping at it, and she smiled.

“Come for me, Astarion.”

Even in this, especially in this, the Ascendant obeyed without thought. Her command pushed him over the edge into an ecstasy beyond description. As he came, he moaned into her mouth, his hips spasming in jittery thrusts and grinds as he lost all control. He felt the overwhelming sensation of release as he emptied himself inside her, filling her with his come, and for the first time in months, he wasn’t coming into emptiness. There was warmth, and tightness, and closeness. There was her. It was so exquisite his eyes closed against the overwhelming joy and pleasure.

For several moments neither of them moved, clinging to one another while they caught their breath. As the world came back into focus he slowly pulled out of Ban, looking down and watching as his cock emerged, coated in his come and her wetness. She looked down as well, smiling.

“Won’t do to have that mess in your trousers for the rest of the night,” she teased, kneeling down to lick every inch of his cock clean. The sensation was intense, almost too much, and his hand gripped her shoulder tightly as she cleaned him.

She gave him one last, hard suck, earning her a loud groan, before standing back up. He fixed her with an unsteady, almost stunned gaze as he tucked himself back into his trousers and fixed his clothes.

“I want to try again, Ban.” The words slipped out earnestly and without hesitation. He had been considering how to broach this topic all day, vacillating between grand gestures and a long prepared speech. In the end, after all this, he felt this was the best way to do it. The way she always seemed to want him - sincere. Real.

Ban stared at him in shock, contemplating saying no. There was too much baggage, no matter how fantastic the sex was. But she could see that he was closer to his old self than he’d ever been. Not exactly the same - but almost. He’d protected her out of love, allowed her to take charge, trusted her to do right by him, and had now taken the next logical step.

He was handing her his heart, just as he had when he’d first confessed his feelings to her.

“If that’s what you want,” Ban murmured, caressing his cheek. His face was still damp with sweat and slick, and she traced some of the wetness on his lips. He parted them to suck her finger, a coy smile crossing his features.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

He knew there was work to be done. There was still the party to attend to. There were things to make amends for and things to prove. He had to get over his pride and relearn letting his walls down, if only for her. It might prove impossible, but he intended to try.

But for now? This was enough.

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x tav #astarion fic #bg3 astarion #ascended astarion x f!tav #astarion smut #astarion romance #astarion x female oc #ascended astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

[blue--ingenue]

Ominis Gaunt headcannons {Pt. 4}

Author's Note: when i'm trying to think of what to write i like to walk around spots in the game and think of what the characters would think/do. what would their favorite study spots be? do they have a favorite place to curl up with a book? etc. anyway, this came to me while i was walking around the slytherin common room. hope you enjoy :) and i'm starting a taglist for my Ominis headcannons series, so let me know if you'd like to be added :)

he knows most of the house elves by name. the Gaunts are notorious for their abuse of house elves, so most of the kitchen/cleaning staff steered clear of them for the first few weeks of his first year. then one day, when ominis was still getting used to the charm he used to see, he tripped over a one of the elves’ mop buckets. the young Gaunt’s face flushed bright red and he fumbled for his wand before pointing it directly at her. she froze in place and cowered, waiting for whatever punishment he would dole out, but none came

he stuttered out an incantation and flicked his wand in her direction - and the rag she wore dried instantly. confused, but still terrified, she remained frozen. young ominis apologized profusely, using the few spells he knew to clean up the mess. all the while he explained how he was having a bit of trouble maintaining the charm for extended periods

after the bucket was righted and the water had vanished from the floor, he helped her up and asked for her name. Niffy explained that few witches or wizards ever asked, and that she’d never had a student offer to help her, let alone with magic. he continued on his way, but Niffy made sure to tell every elf in the castle to keep a protective eye on young Ominis

not many students know this, but there are plenty of snakes that have made their home within the castle. while Ominis doesn’t enjoy speaking parseltongue, he likes that the snakes bring him gossip from around the school. when Sebastian asks how he seems to know everyone’s secrets and rumors, he replies that he simply listens more than he talks. (while this is true, the snakes’ rumor mill is mostly responsible). behind the walls and within the pipes, they hear everything about everyone (which means Ominis does, too)

this boy has managed to free nearly every house elf tied to the Gaunt name. when he first came to hogwarts his parents assigned one of the house elves to follow him around. he hated feeling coddled, but he knew his father would take his anger out on the house elf if ominis sent him back

there’s a trip to Hogsmeade for all of the first-years a few days after the sorting ceremony. the prefects break them into groups and give them brief tours of all the shops. at the end they’re given a few hours to roam before everyone returns to the castle for dinner. Anne and Sebastian, ever curious and looking for the greatest source of action, follow him from a distance. they know he’s a Gaunt. they’ve heard of his family’s reputation. nearly everyone in their year avoids him like the plague, but the twins don’t find him to be any different from their classmates (aside from the house elf that never leaves his side)

it turns out Ominis had taken out as large of a deposit as he could and had the galleons sent by post. his poor owl couldn’t carry the sack of gold, so he was told he could retrieve the coins at the post office. the twins watch as he nonchalantly shoves the equivalent of a year of Solomon’s earnings into a sack and enters Gladrags

naturally, they follow him. he purchases the warmest cloak in the shop, but doesn’t leave. puzzled, the twins watch as he asks Mr. Hill something and hands the coat back to him. he sizes up the house elf with a quick once-over before waving his wand over the garment. when he’s finished, the coat is ten times smaller than before. they watch in awe as young Ominis presents the clothing to his house elf, along with the sack of galleons

the house elf begins to weep, but Ominis merely kneels so that he can speak to the elf without tower over him. as the pair exit the shop, they hear him tell the elf to “be careful, and live well” before they embrace and the elf apparates away with a loud pop

the next day they introduce themselves, and the trio become inseparable

(Ominis’ father stops sending house elves to Ominis, but only after the young boy has managed to free half of their household staff)

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Taglist: @caramel-hufflepuff, @fanfiction-she-wrote

#ominis x mc #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #fluff #fluffy #angst #hurt/comfort #noctua gaunt

[elvensemi]

I'm Publishing Serial Webnovels

Hi guys! I'm @elvensemi, and some of you might know me from writing Dragon Age fanfic Keeping Secrets, or from writing weird gargoyle porn with @unpretty, or from that time I accidentally told a popular blog I write dragon porn on my main blog @solitarelee, or maybe from that one fanfic where the knight with a crossdressing kink fails at slaying a dragon so hard he gets seduced!

I've graduated college, and you know what that means! Student loans Free time! And so I'm finally pursuing my long term dream and publishing serial webnovels. The short version is: ebooks, I'm publishing ebooks via Patreon to see if it works because I don't want to deal with Amazon and marketplaces. Chuck Tingle does it, kind of!

I am writing such things as!

The Problem with Faeries An urban fantasy series for fans of Holly Black, featuring faeries and a librarian who has been cursed by a witch to turn into a tiny dog at night.

Everything at Once A coming of age fantasy novel set in a post-post-apocalyptic world full of many monsters and very few humans, with a nonbinary (genderfluid) protagonist and a rotating cast of gods and monsters.

The Demon Isles An adult romance series set in the same world as Everything at Once, this one's for the monsterf*ckers. Step into the shoes of an escaped slave who's been stranded in Fantasy Australia But All The Dangerous Things Can Be Seduced.

A Place Among the Stars An adult sci-fi political space opera that is also technically just solidly omegaverse sm*t plus space dragons. That's right, one of my friends dared me to write omegaverse and I overdid it and now they're aliens! All for you my friend.

Novelizations of works that previously existed only as RPs, such as Sanctuary and The Kingdom of Aeris.

AND SO MUCH MORE.

For $5 you get access to SFW material, and for $10 you get access to that and the things that are not SFW. You can view a full summary of the serials I'm working on at tinyurl.com/SemiSerials , or click the read more.

The Demon Isles (NSFW, Second Person)

Oceanside is a world full of elves and gods, monsters and magic. You, however, a human with no magic, no martial training, and a fear of... most things. Stranded on an unfamiliar island full of monsters, you must learn to harness humanity’s true power in order to survive. The issue with that is, as far as anyone can tell, humanity’s true powers are friendship and fuckability.

The Demon Isles is a erotic, second-person monsterfucking romp through the dangerous Demon Isles. The second person character is referred to by gender neutral terminology and they/them pronouns, physical appearance left ambiguous. Sex scenes have two versions with different sets of genitalia for the main character. Tags and content warnings are available for each chapter.

The Problem with Faeries (SFW, Third Person)

The problem with faeries is that we love them. We know all the sharp and cruel ways they twist us apart and we love them with a helpless, hopeless foolishness that never fades until it destroys us.

Bree is a human living in Valesport, a small town on the east coast of the United States that functions as a secret haven for the supernatural. As a cursed human, it’s one of the safer places for her... at least, safe from other humans. Everything else Valesport has to offer remains a threat. She’s already had her run-ins with werewolves, vampires, and whatever the hell Jean Cernunnos is... so, in retrospect, she was probably due to get into trouble with the Fae.

A fan favorite finally finding a venue of publication, The Problem with Faeries is a SFW urban fantasy with a side of romance perfect for fans of Holly Black. It is third person and follows the point of view of the protagonist, Bridget “Bree” Corey, as she finds herself tangled up trying to navigate faerie drama and her own personal feelings, neither of which she is particularly equipped to handle.

Everything at Once (SFW, First Person)

Babs wants everything the world has to offer... everything except what it’s actually prepared to hand over. As the eldest child of the ruling noble family--or what passes for it--of the only human village remaining old and large enough to still have a ruling noble family, even if just in name, Babs’s whole life has been laid out in front of them since the moment they were born. And they want none of it. However, after a bold escape from the village they knew all their life, they find themselves adrift in an unfriendly world of monsters and magic that seems much larger and much less friendly than they had hoped.

Everything at Once is a SFW fantasy novel set all over the world of Oceanside as our determined protagonist, Babs, attempts to explore all there is to explore and experience all there is to experience (it is possible they have not thought this through). Babs is a non-binary, gender fluid illusionist referred to varyingly by he, she, and they pronouns based on presentation. The story is a first person mixed POV exploring a wide range of characters and topics, but always staying focused on the many transformations of the main character as they learn what it is they want... and what it is to want.

Future Projects: Projects that are in development but do not have a set release date yet.

A Place Among the Stars [Working Title] (NSFW)

A Place Among the Stars is a NSFW erotic political space opera featuring Omegaverse style aliens and also space dragons, amongst other alien races. It features two protagonists: an exiled and excommunicated Saint who once led a cult that threatened the peace and stability of his homeworld, and a mid level government official presiding over the walled ghetto where the Ab’ed keep all foreign visitors and immigrants to their planet. They quickly find themselves entangled: politically, as the Saint once again threatens the stability of the world around him--in more ways than one--and sexually, as the tension between the two reaches a fever pitch.

Sanctuary (NSFW, Third Person)

Most people would consider Ren unlucky. After all, she’s been homeless since she was a child, has no living family she knows of, and she was recently kidnapped by sex traffickers and ripped away from the city she had been living in for years. But as far as Ren is concerned, she’s the epitome of good luck: not only has she survived all the things life has thrown at her, but she’s escaped said sex traffickers and even found shelter in an abandoned, boarded up cathedral. The fact that the cathedral, undisturbed for a century or more, is home to a guardian whose only experience with the world is violently murdering intruders, well... once again, whether that’s good or bad luck is based purely on interpretation.

Sanctuary is a NSFW urban fantasy erotic romance featuring a cis female protagonist and a male (as these things go) gargoyle love interest, as well as a mix of other romantic interests (primarily M/F with some F/F or NB/F thrown in). Tags and content warnings are available for each chapter. This fan-favorite returns in serialized, ebook form for easy reading. Follow Ren’s journey anew from mixed perspectives as she explores the streets of Valesport and finds something she’s never had before; a place to call home.

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #webnovel #writing #authors of tumblr #fiction #web series #web serial

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ Thranduil’s words ring in your head as reality of your immortality hits. You should’ve known that it was too good to be true.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele. This is going to have two other endings, one happy ending and angst ending.

Word Count ➳ 1.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, Reader is an Elf, pet names (amrâlimê, meleth nîn), heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence…

Thranduil’s words hit you hard when you were brought in front of him while the rest were locked up. He sat cockily on this throne and spat out words that enraged you right down to the core. But it made sense… You were an Elf, not a half-Elf. You cannot choose between immortality or mortality.

You would walk the lands of Middle-Earth until you were struck down or go to Valinor. Dwarves live long but not close enough to compare to an Elves’s lifespan. Even so… Even after death, Kili will go where you cannot follow.

“If you love him, and you are confident that he loves you. It would be best if you parted ways now or until either of you die on the field.” Thranduil spoke soft and low. “You have enough time in your life to find another or none at all. You will face his death or he will face your immortality. It’s a relationship that will never hold happiness.”

“I can’t go with you Kili.” You pulled your hand from him while stepping back into the direction of Mirkwood. “I cannot continue with you all.”

“W-What do you mean?” Kili was already in pain, was it the adrenaline or the pain throbbing from his thigh that was keeping him from thinking the worst? “Come on, we don’t have enough time. The orcs are on our tail.”

“Let me rephrase…” You took a deep breath to relax your beating heart and to clutch the hilt of your stolen sword tightly. “I’m not coming. This is where my journey ends.”

“You can’t say that! You’re part of the company-!”

“I am part of no company. I came with you all out of pity.”

“You’re lying!”

“This is where it ends for me-!”

“Enough!” Thorin interrupted, marching to you and Kili, he was already angry, tired, and completely drenched. “If she wishes to leave then let her! We have no time to carry dead weight!” He said before turning back to the rest of the Company who were trying to decide what to do.

“(Y/n), surely this isn’t you. You cannot turn back now, we are so close.” Kili pleaded with you, using whatever strength to stand on his own.

“Kili-”

He snatched your hands, holding them together in his own bloody hands to lay a kiss on them. “Please, do not go. Don’t go where I won’t be able to follow. I want you to lay your eyes on my home, I want to do it with you.”

He looked up at you with watery eyes and a tear falling…

Kili then gripped your shirt with both of his hands to pull you down into a frantic kiss. His lips quivered as he held back the urge to burst into tears right in front of you and the rest. “I beg you, amrâlimê.”

“...Goodbye, Kili.” You pulled away once more and could see everyone staring at you. You gave no time for them to say anything, only a silent nod in Thorin’s direction before rushing back to Mirkwood and hopefully talking of leaving the forest the same way you came in, even if it met you’d have to face the spiders again.

You chose to lay down your sword and leave for Rivendell to spend your many years in solace until you were ready to sail to Valinor. You believed that Thranduil informed Lord Elrond that you were on your way since he welcomed you with open arms but he refused to say anything.

There were many Elves, but not once have you attempted to have conversations with them. You kept to yourself, reading, walking, eating and then bed, almost like a pattern.

It continued for months until you received two letters. One from Thranduil and one from Kili. But they were delivered at the same time, the messenger explained that Thranduil let Kili write to you one last time.

Thranduil wrote to you, his words solidified your choice to leave the Company behind. Yet there was guilt still residing since what you said was a lie. You joined because you genuinely wanted to help, you hoped that it would’ve been easier on the rest.

When it came to Kili’s letter, you wanted to push it aside, hoping to read it when you felt ready. But you knew you couldn’t push it back anymore.

‘Amrâlimê,

It has been some time since I’ve last felt your warmth, or heard your voice, or held your hands. I miss the way you speak in rhymes, or stories of your adventures and battles. I wished you too could have laid your eyes on Erebor, and I’m still sure you will love it here. Everyone knows you didn’t mean those words, they didn’t take it to heart. They wish for your return as well, as do I.

I wish to spend the rest of my days with you and you alone, and if I must come and find you then I will. You have my heart, you have me in your hands, and my home isn’t truly home if you aren’t there with me.’

You still had a second page to read but you broke down, sobbing as you held the letter like your life depended on it. You were fighting with yourself, you were desperate to rush back to Erebor and see him.

But Thranduil’s words once again rang through your head. You can go back to Kili but then face his death or you could stay here but still face his death… Either way, he dies in the end. There was no way around it.

Lord Elrond comes into your line of sight, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You managed to slow your tears and clear your throat. “When is the next ship to Valinor going to leave?”

“If you make this decision, you cannot go back.” Lord Elrond warned you. “You still have time to be with him. Do not make a decision you will regret.”

“I’ve had my time, I know my choice. Kili should be with his people.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Kili shall receive my sword, Fili will get my knives, Thorin will have my collection of jewels, and Bilbo will be gifted my journals.” You looked back at the nicely boxed items. “The rest can get a choice of my belongings.”

“You have planned this out from the start, haven’t you?”

“Elves can only love Elves, it’s easier without heartbreak.” You folded Kili’s letter neatly. “I would like to thank you for the hospitality.”

“A group is leaving now.” Lord Elrond can see that you weren’t going to change your mind, he sighed and nodded. “I wish you well (Y/n).”

“Thank you once again, Elrond.” You grabbed your cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders as you left your room and towards the group of Elves leaving for Valinor as well.

‘Kili,

From the day you sought me out and I watched you climb that tree to proclaim how you wished to be with me. Or the hours by the campfire exchanging stories. It saddens me that this will be my final words to you, if there was some other way for us to be together without it being painful then trust me when I say I would run right back to you.

You amazed me each day, the jokes, your skills, you will continue to surprise me from this day and until my last. I will think back to you and your smile, but please understand that my decision is for the best.

With all of my life, meleth nîn. Someday, we shall meet again but not in this world.’

“This is a lie.” Kili slammed his hands on the table. “Where is she?!”

“Kili!” Fili pulled him back.

“I speak nothing but the truth, she left for Valinor, she’s days away if not then boarding the ships.” Elrond informed the two brothers. “Either way, she’s gone, beyond your reach.”

But Kili still refused, he shook his head angrily. “That’s still a chance.”

“You won’t be able to change her mind.” Fili warned him.

“If she wanted to… She would say it to my face.” He rushed off, nearly taking a tumble down the steps.

Fili chased after him, grabbing his arm to stop him. “You heard what the Elf said, she could be boarding the ships.”

“Or days away!” Fili froze as he saw tears swell his eyes. “I cannot let her go, I promised myself that wherever she goes, I will go. I could not do it the first time, but I am now.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

#divider by cafekitsune #the hobbit kili #kili x you #kili x reader #kili durin #kili #fili and kili #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x you #the hobbit thorin #hobbit x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #x female reader #angst #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #lotr x reader #lotr

[fafnir19]

Naughty or nice

Kathy and Ben lived in the same apartment building. They often bumped into each other in the lobby or elevator, exchanging casual small talks. Kathy, with her charming smile and endearing laughter, always managed to brighten Ben's day, but he was never quite sure how to respond to her presence. Since Kathy had broken up with her boyfriend, she had been turning to Ben for help quite often, seeking his company and assistance even for the smallest matters. Ben had treated Kathy had never sat well with Ben. So, when Kathy constantly asked for his help, Ben couldn't help but feel a growing annoyance. Perhaps she had been never been a fan of Kathy's ex-boyfriend. He considered him to be an arrogant snob, and the way he treating her ex-boyfriend like a servant because she came from a wealthy family, Ben assumed with a tinge of bitterness. "Hey, Kathy, I can't keep doing this," Ben said one day, his frustration bubbling over. "I'm not your personal assistant, you know. And just because your parents have money, doesn't mean you can make others do whatever you want."

It was St. Nicholas Day, and Kathy pleaded with Ben for help again. "Please, Ben, it's important! I promise I won't ask for anything again," she implored. "You always say that," Ben shouted, his patience wearing thin. "I'm not your servant, Kathy!" Storming out of the apartment building in a huff, Ben collided with St. Nicholas and his helper, Knecht Ruprecht, who were spreading joy and cheer in the neighborhood.

"You've been good this year, young man?" St. Nicholas asked with a twinkle in his eye. "Save that question for the kids," Ben replied, irked by the joviality around him. Without warning, Knecht Ruprecht swiftly stuffed Ben into his sack, ignoring Ben's shouts and struggles. Before Ben could even comprehend what was happening, he found himself in the workshop of St. Nicholas with no way of escape. St. Nicholas's voice filled the workshop as he explained Ben's predicament. "You have refused to help Kathy too many times, young man. As a consequence, you will now work in my workshop until you understand the true spirit of Christmas."

In the following weeks leading up to Christmas, Ben toiled alongside the cheerful Christmas elves in the workshop. The air was thick with the scent of fresh pine and the sound of little hammers and chisels transforming old, forgotten toys into new ones with magical craftsmanship. However, instead of feeling the joy of the season, Ben's heart grew colder as he was forced to immerse himself in the work. Furthermore, the elves had also forced Ben to wear a green tuxedo, a symbol of his servanthood that he couldn't shed. As Christmas drew nearer, St. Nicholas took Ben aside and revealed to him the truth about Kathy. "She is lonely, and she has turned to you because she cares for you. Her constant requests for help were her way of trying to connect with you." Before Ben could process this revelation, the Christmas elves lined up, thanking Ben for his hard work. "Only one thing remains to be done," they declared. Ben was puzzled, for all the old toys had been transformed into new ones. The elves surrounded him, molding him as if he were clay, their nimble fingers shaping his features with delicate precision. As if guided by magic, his once unremarkable visage transformed into that of a dashing, handsome young man with captivating charm. A radiant smile graced his chiseled features; his eyes sparkled with newfound allure, and he stood in stunned silence as he admired his own reflection.

On Christmas Eve, St. Nicholas took Ben on his sleigh to deliver gifts.

But instead of taking him to his own home, St. Nicholas placed him under Kathy's Christmas tree. "Wait, I can't be here!" Ben's panic rose in his throat, but he couldn't move a muscle. St. Nicholas's words echoed in his mind: "You are nothing more than a gift now, a toy for the big girls.". He was a gift now, and a gift couldn't simply walk away from the Christmas tree.

Kathy's gasp filled the room as she laid eyes on the extraordinary Christmas surprise. "Oh, my goodness! This is amazing!" She lifted Ben, who could only watch in shock as she reveled in her new companion, oblivious to the turmoil within him. As their days together unfolded, Kathy found herself ecstatic with the new Ben, soon realizing that he was not only the perfect boyfriend on the outside but was also unexpectedly better in every way, especially in bed. Despite his protests and struggles, he was perceived by everyone as an ideal boyfriend, a mirror image of Kathy's previous beau.

However, Kathy was enamored with her new companion, and Ben couldn't help but notice her joyful laughter and contented smiles. And in the privacy of their moments together, Ben noticed another change – she moaned with delight and found solace in his embrace, making him question the depth of his own feelings.

#male tf #male transformation #servanthood #servant #st. nicholas #christmas elves

[elerrinacrownedwithstars]

Hot Takes and Conspiracy Theories About the Silm by Fourth Age Gondorians

(this post stemmed from the idea of the Silm as a part of some very ancient manuscripts Tolkien was just translating, and how it may compare to real world epics like Edda - stories that may have started as poems and songs written down centuries after the fact in a completely different mode and by someone with very different cultural background than the original context of the poems and possibly with motives about promoting himself or his ancestors. so what if this was how Fourth Age Gondorians regarded the Silm as well and had schools of thought and self-taught enthusiasts debating what the stories actually mean? what kind of takes would they come up with?)

The Two Trees

Valinor did not have some special light-emanating trees and they did not actually die, it's just a nature myth that metaphorically talks about a period when the sky literally darkened; this was caused by some unknown natural disaster (like the explosion of a supervolcano).

references to Tree-light and Elves being enhanced by it is just Noldorin propaganda. 

The Silmarils were not real. At least not as they are portrayed in the Silm. 

there are various theories as to what they really were (religious artifacts? some mandate of rulership? just really pretty jewels and everybody exaggerated how special they were? some kind of a super weapon?), but also more philosophical suggestions that the Silmarils are the elements of air, water and earth itself (hint hint that's why they eventually become part of these), and the struggle over them represents the struggle over rulership of Beleriand/Middle-earth. that in the end the Silmarils aren't really possessed by anyone reflects how all kingdoms eventually fall and nobody under Eru can be a master of the world. 

Fëanor was not a real guy and the sons of Fëanor were not actually related to one another.

like who even is that great and perfect?

he's probably just some kind of a bogeyman made up by the Sindar

did anyone in Beleriand ever even see him? CONVENIENT that he spontaneously combusted almost immediately after he came to Beleriand

also who names their kid "the spirit of fire"??? what if it's not a personal name of any elf but more like a title? or a name associated with some entity that had religious following in Valinor?

there's a clue to this in how Fëanor's supposed sons are mostly referred to as "the sons of Fëanor" or "Fëanorians": it bears thinking that they were not actually related to one another, but "Fëanorian" was a title in a same way that "Fëanor" was a title. It doesn't mean an ACTUAL son to a guy named Fëanor but a devotee to whatever the entity or title named Fëanor represented. 

(they couldn't be real brothers because there just can't be that many hair colours in one family.)

MAYBE FËANORIANS WERE SOME KIND OF A CULT

it was probably some kind of a death cult obsessed with blood and murder, considering their body count 

also because of this they were kicked out of Valinor and all stories about how they WANTED to leave are propaganda. 

Celeborn was at least three or four different guys.

How else do you explain the different versions about who he was?

the one who fathered Celebrían was Galadriel's real true love, but he died in obscure circumstances

this theory you don't really want to talk about much, because you don't want to insult Queen Arwen. Also the current Celeborn may come after you. 

Beren did not actually die and come back

his first death is a symbolic one: he had been estranged from his relatives and people, but by marrying Lúthien he completely leaves behind that life and "dies" as a member of the House of Bëor to become a part of the House of Elwe

he did not come again among Men after marrying Lúthien, in other words he was dead to his original society

the sequence in Mandos where Lúthien pleads for pity was originally a description of a courting scene that got bastardised along the way; she had to go to the remaining members of the House of Bëor and ask for Beren's hand in marriage. They would not agree unless Beren gave up his claim to the title of chieftain, i. e. he has symbolically died. 

Melian was actually Ungoliant

that's why Doriath lasted so long, Morgoth was still scared shitless of her and didn't dare go anywhere near her

Nan Dunghortheb was literally her backyard!!!

why else Lúthien would be able to weave weird dream cloaks???

Húan wasn't a dog, he was an Elf

the idea that he was a dog came from: 

he was the best tracker in Aman, so in Beleriand he was called "The Hound of Valinor". Later generations thought this literally meant he was a dog.  

whoever wrote down the legends about him was a wishful idiot who loved dogs and wanted them to be able to talk (understandable)

Something Weird Was Going On With Maeglin

aside from the obvious, of course

were Aredhel and Eöl really his parents though? was Aredhel even married to Eöl? 

maybe Maeglin was a thrall of Morgoth, or was born in captivity and brainwashed to be loyal, and his task from the beginning was to bring Gondolin down

Aredhel did leave Gondolin like the Silm says, but stuff did not go down like the story tells. 

-during her wanderings, Aredhel somehow found Maeglin and saw him as her shot to stage a coup in Gondolin by claiming he was her son (and male heir for the kingdom). Eöl never existed. Or if he did, he was a random guy Aredhel met and used to her own ends. 

Turgon found out about Aredhel's plans (but not about Maeglin) and he was the one who actually killed her.

maybe she was a Fëanorian cult member in secret and was trying to take over Gondolin for them

Túrin son of Húrin, Mormegil, Turambar and the other aliases associated with The Children of Húrin were actually all different guys

nobody can get up to that much weird shit

the real Túrin probably died in Doriath and Melian covered it up

Elured and Elurin survived. They changed their names and became Elrond and Elros. 

Maglor is the Bigfoot of Middle-earth. There is a dedicated fanclub that keeps track of sightings (which are as obscure and bonkers as you could imagine). 

if you subscribe to "Fëanorians were a death cult" theory, then Maglor is actually an ominous cryptid that foretells misfortunes. 

Thingol is alive and lives as a hermit somewhere in Mirkwood.

Thranduil is aware of it and in fact he has helped to keep it secret all this time.

There are also hot takes about Eärendil and Elwing and whether they were real people. 

Eärendil is a half-elf, actual Star and God's favourite little guy. He has a flying ship and travels in space. He keeps an eye on Satan himself. His birth was foretold, he fought and killed the biggest dragon in history in a massive air battle that caused an entire mountain to collapse, and he may have killed Ungoliant. No real person is that special. 

Elwing wouldn't do what bunch of men (who were maybe in a death cult) told her, she's obviously a villain if she existed. She can't die (was directly prevented by divine powers when she tried to) and chose to be immortal. Also being God's favourite little gal and having the ability to turn into a bird? Very suspicious. 

Silmarien and her descendants were the true heirs of Númenor and if they had ruled, Númenor would still exist

the ruling line had many problematic characters that were not well suited to the role

it also culminated in Ar-Pharazon and all the tragedy that his actions brought

Silmarien inherited some of the most important heirlooms from the First Age, which proves that even her father thought she was the true heir

also Silmarien's descendants survived to maintain was what left of the culture and wisdom of Númenor; further proof of Silmarien's right.

#silm crack #Silmarillion #Silm meta #this is not a very serious post so don't kill me over Fëanorian death cult :') #long post

[vampiricgf]

ALMOST HEAVEN \ PROLOGUE

› astarion x f!reader

› summary : with wedding plans in place, the day of the ceremony is quickly upon you. But does this have the ability to be a happy union?

› word count : 1k+

› warnings : arranged marriage, angst, he's mean

notes : arranged marriage angst!! lil short thing to kick it off but chapter one is already finished so I'll be posting it shortly ^⁠_⁠^

series masterlist | chapter one

It was a marriage of convenience.

That's what you told yourself, to keep the expectations grounded in your head. As a nobleman's child you knew it was more likely that your match would not, in fact, be found by you but would be selected by your affluent family for the singular purpose of furthering whatever aims or intrigue was most lucrative.

What you hadn't expected was him.

A High Elf, a most unusual candidate for such an arrangement given how elves are often even more serious about love and sacred bonds than humans are. But then again, it isn't uncommon for them to enter into serious relationships with humans given that the lifespan difference means the relationship lasts for about the same amount of time as it would take to master whatever interest caught their fancy.

It was nothing but a side path on the grand road of their lives.

And he was paving a grand road indeed.

Magistrate Ancunín had impressed your father, and had given himself an in with the most prominent of the partiar families.

Caldwell, and it's fortune built on the vast orchards to the south of the Gate. One may think, mistakenly, that an orchard family would be similar in temperament to druids. That was the placid facade the people of the Gate were familiar with, simply content to munch on Caldwell apples and pears.

In truth your father was more akin to a war ship than a man. Your family’s vast wealth had been accrued from underhanded dealings that allowed for a near total takeover of the lumber industry in both the city and surrounding area. It also helped your father had laid plans to poach some of the best minds behind timber treatment, leading to a proprietary process that forced most others out of business.

People like the Magistrate, however, were not so easily fooled. The interior of every patriar family was rotten through and through, black as pitch and stretching their slimy fingers across the city.

If ever they paid attention the fruit might just blacken in their hands, turned to nought but ash.

And for your part you were no naive fool. You knew about the rumors of corruption that swirled around him, but then again who among the upper echelon wasn't tainted by such whispers?

It was hardly a scandal even if it were true.

Still, as hard as you tried to keep your expectations realistic, the constant disappointment surrounding your wedding plans stung deeply. Of course he'd want little to nothing to do with the process, your family tittering and fluttering about making sure it would be a show of wealth and power - and you, a centerpiece of it clad in a dress that looked more like some puff pastry with a painted on, garishly made up expression of faux happiness.

You hadn't seen Astarion since the announcement had been made more than five months ago.

That wasn’t wholly unusual, given the arrangement, but you could only admit to yourself in secrecy how disappointing it was to have only your family and hired help to coordinate what should have been a joyous day. For an ordinary, plain couple it may have even been a joint effort.

Truly you worried for many weeks over how he felt about being tied to a woman he didn’t love for the rest of your life, at least.

Your mother had told you again and again that excitement was shared all around, abundant between your family and your soon-to-be groom. But there were no relieved sighs or elated smiles to be had from you.

The words were empty.

All you had been told concretely was that Astarion had consented to the match, and agreed to the date barring any complications or unseen circumstances.

In contrast the the made face and complicated hairstyle you sported there was a dour look upon your face.

“I wish we could have spoken before today, but his estate kept replying that he was unavailable.” You say to no one in particular, frowning down at your hands.

“Theres no need to worry about such things,” your mother said, not even sparing you a glance as she fussed over some discarded pile of tulle. “You’re both as ready as you can be. And remember, this is a fortuitous union. Do try to behave yourself.”

Annoyance cracked through the anxiety in your gut. Of course, behave yourself because you’re someone else’s problem now. Don’t make us look like blathering idiots.

An impossibility, you snort to yourself as your rise from the ornate vanity.

With a stomach full of knots you silently eye the older woman straightening your gown and fluttering about like some nervous hen. Had she always looked so… exhausted? Thick greying hair bundled back in a severe updo, jewelry, always tasteful, delicately adorned the thin skin of her hands and wrists. Her expression as serious as her hairstyle, one you don’t ever remember her breaking often.

If he could love you, would he still when you more closely resembled the women in front of you now?

~

Those knots had turned into complete rigging by the time even, heavy footsteps carried you through the crowd of revelers.

They may as well have been dolls made up of paper, barely seen even in your peripherals as you looked at him.

Standing at the far end, a vast distance distorted by nerves, was his figure in stark relief against the almost dreamy atmosphere. A purposeful mess of ivory hair, curls that fell in a purposefully effortless manner and barely brushed the tips of his ears. Tasteful jacket embroidered with a pattern of golden thread, every bit the image of a man marrying into prominence. Belonging to prominence already.

His features were enough to have your heartbeat immediately thrumming hard and fast in your chest, enough to make you momentarily question whether someone could lose consciousness if such a rhythm maintained itself for too long. You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of you.

An organic couple would perhaps have feelings of overwhelm rise up upon seeing each other in a similar way, fond memories and beautiful shared moments. Nothing like that existed between you two. The only prior memories you held were of sitting like a demure piece of decoration in the parlor as you two exchanged perhaps a full sentence before he discussed details in private with your father.

He hadn’t shown much interest in you then, and it seemed to be the case now.

Despite the congenial smile adorning his face as he took your hand his eyes were distant. Far away and full of other things, even a hint of impatience that you didn’t care to explore further, rather you kicked yourself internally for expecting some sort of rapturous happiness. Ridiculous.

He remained impassive as the priest of Lathander began droning on, and it became clearer with every passing second that being here with you was hardly magnanimous for him. That realization seized something in your chest, a wild thought of stopping the wedding frantically pulling at the edges of your mind.

That isn’t something you could do though, no matter how wildly you wanted to - years of training and upbringing overrode the urge.

Do try to behave yourself.

The vows were hollow from both your lips, flowered words that, if they were said by any other couple perhaps they might have been moving, but from your lips they fell flat like overripe fruit to the ground, spotted with swirling shades of bruised plum and the too soft grayish shade of decay. Forlorn and quickly forgotten to rot.

The kiss was equally impassive and far away, despite being such an intimate act it was utterly substanceless. His warm lips met yours for only a brief second before pulling away,

It felt more like a kiss of death. The final seal on the entire circus. It was all real, all concrete now.

The ring on your finger felt as heavy as an ingot strapped to your hand as your smile stretched wide, feeling garish and insincere as your hands found one anothers.

“Ms. Caldwell, its an honor to dip my fingers in your familial purse.” The whisper as he wore a faux smile was cut through with a disgusting amount of smugness. It made you bristle.

“Perhaps we should've been selling tickets for the performance.” You say frigidly, making sure to keep the smile stretched across your own lips as you grasped his hand.

You could tell he struggled for a moment to contain a laugh before whispering again.

“You are refreshingly pragmatic, you know. Perhaps this isn’t the worst union in the world.”

Perhaps.

It devastated you all the same, feeling like some puffed up clown in the middle of the renewed revelry.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion series #txt ☆ˎˊ˗

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // forty-three

| @rollingsim

INTERACTIVE POLL | What should Sarayn do? Vote now!

next / previous / beginning

KYRIE: Lord Tev’us. SARAYN: Your Grace. I don’t suppose you’re here for leisure. Is there something I can help you with? KYRIE: As much as I wish that was true… I… must ask something of you. SARAYN: Certainly. KYRIE: I don’t mean to make assumptions. That being said, I’m more than aware you’re a talented sorcerer. Even so, I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Taiyo and Tayuin are dying. They’ve contracted blood curses that none of the sanctum mages can dispel. We’ve exhausted every option short of finding the witch who cursed them. But I’m told that one of equal or greater power might be able to undo another’s work. SARAYN: I see. So, you have come to me. Dark magic is not the providence of high elves, but of my ilk. You’re asking me to break their curse. KYRIE: That is what I’m asking. Neither will wake, so I have come on their behalf. If there was any chance at all that what I’ve been told is true… that you might have the power to break the curse, then I’m begging you. Whatever the cost, just name your price. SARAYN: And if I agree, you are offering to bear this potential cost yourself? KYRIE: I will. So long as it is within my power to give. Ask whatever of me and you shall have it.

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #oc: kyrie loren #cc: sarayn tev'us #end of queue~

[v3x-y0urs3lf]

I’ve been thinking about the Lauriet family for a hot minute now so I may as well share my thoughts and headcanons.

I don’t think it’s thought or mentioned enough that Reuben literally CUT HIS EARS to hide his eleven features and the fact Cyril literally says ‘what NEEDS to be done’ WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT HAD TO BE DONE??

Like, Imagine Faustin who was raised around high class elves and being all egotistical pricks.. finding who I headcanon to have been his secret lover having cut his own ears to fit into society. Extra points if Faustin actually freaks out because.. WHO WOULDNT??

Faustin who was literally taught to be proud of being attuned and being raised in a community where being an Elf is like, the highest form of power.. AND THEN HIS LOVER/CRUSH OBVIOUSLY NOT HAVING THAT SAME COMMUNITY AND MAKING SUCH A PERMANENT CHANGE LIKE THAT!!

I said I’d mention Cyril too so here’s some child Cyril. Even if Cyril is more like Faustin in terms of ego(at least before meeting Rival.) just imagine Reuben trying to ensure Cyril doesn’t do the same things that he did and to be proud to be elven.

Also I just want to add that Cyril probably receives comments like ‘Oh! You’re just like your father!(Faustin)’ A lot.. mainly due to his ego and personality but I headcanon also his looks.

And Cyril absolutely HATESS that fact and those comments because he knows that they’re true. He just hates that despite acting like Faustin he can’t seem to keep up to the same pace as his father for whatever reason(got that headcanon from audio 2)

I’m really hooked on Cyril’s relationship with Faustin because I’m a fan of all the angst and drama behind it but also.. Imagine when Rival got a few compliments from (I believe both?) of Cyril’s dads.. (First one being in audio 7 and while I can’t find it, I swear someone else complimented Rival’s work once.) And just.. Low-key hating Rival for that.

That head canon is more for before Cyril and then started crushing on each other but still, Who wouldn’t dislike the person that their parents talk so highly about?

Okay, this is an edit but I’m going through Audio 13 and Cyril basically (or implies) That Faustin praises or gives attention whenever he(Cyril) is showing success and- GOD MY HEARTTT.

Imagine just as a child Cyril having two parents where one is overly paying attention to him and the other is just wanting him to be successful and ‘worthy’ of his praise 😭😭

God. I love just ranting like this. I might do another one once I’m in the mood to hyperfixiate on another character.

#reverie audios #cyril lauriet #not my character #Faustin lauriet #reuben #Faustin #Reuben Lauriet