#hes more of a little creature she found and now she finds him endearing

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

miss dimitrescu and the sopping wet cat she found outside in the snow

#ethan winters #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #resi #resident evil #re8 #resident evil 8 #resident evil fanart #rebhfun #i draw this in the most unromantic way possible #i dont ship them #alcina dimitrescu would never fall in love with a.. *gags* MAN… #hes more of a little creature she found and now she finds him endearing #miss dimi: yeah him and the baby were a 2 for 1 deal so i had to get both and now im stuck with him 🙄 #they r sillay #miss D and her man thing

[bby-deerling]

last dance (platonic!sanji & zoro's partner!reader)

the last cigarette you share with sanji. pre timeskip in mind.

ft. sanji being sanji, smoking (obviously), fem!reader, same continuity as my other zoro x reader fics wc: 1.2k more platonic sanji, masterlist

The bar was lively, full of vibrancy, bright lights, and more importantly—beautiful women; it was a shame that Sanji had completely struck out with all of them.  Times like these called for drastic measures, and the cook found himself resorting to the last weapon he had in his arsenal: desperation.

“You’re selfish, mosshead, keeping such a pretty girl tucked in the corner.” Sanji huffed, approaching the two of you crowded at the end of the bar.

“Almost like we want to enjoy our drinks alone.” Zoro shoots back.  The cook ignores him and folds his arms onto the back of your barstool; you twist in your seat to keep him from getting too touchy.

“Dance with me, sweetheart.” he says, leaning in a smidge closer and offering you his hand, eyes glimmering.  When you decline on account of having two left feet, and then a second time on account of simply not feeling like it, he protests, and the pathetic look on his face as he begged was almost endearing.

“At least have a smoke with me, sunshine.” he pleads, offering you an unlit cigarette.

“She’s drinking right now, moron.  Let her be.” Zoro replies, eyes twitching slightly at the irritation from your peaceful evening being interrupted.

“Since when isn’t that the best time for a cigarette?” Sanji asks him, a sly smile plastered on his face.

“You trying to flirt with him or me?” you smirk, amused but not necessarily surprised at his persistence.

“I’m simply trying to find some kindred company, dear.” he insists, offering you the cigarette again, attempting to use your addiction to sway things in his favor.  You hesitate for a moment, but regain your resolve once Zoro shoots you a look.

“Blondie, I’m trying to quit.” you say, staring him down firmly.  He pouts at you, giving you puppy-dog eyes and hoping you’ll spare some pity for a creature as wretched and lonely as him on a cold night like this one.

“Please, sunshine?” he says, eyes nearly watering.  It’s an act and he knows you know it, by the way you stifle a laugh.  “I’ll ask just once more for the privilege of standing within the orbit of your radiance—”

Zoro groans in disgust.  “Just go with him so he stops already.  I’ll watch your drink.”  The sooner you caved to the cook’s demands, the sooner you could continue your evening quietly drinking and people watching in the corner of the bar—if he got you drunk enough, he might even be able to get you to draw offensive caricatures of your targets.

“No need.” you say, downing the rest of your sake and smiling at him.  “Just order me the next one.”

“That’s my girl.” he murmurs, intending it for your ears only, but both of you go red in the face when Sanji gags exaggeratedly.

“That’s the best you can come up with, mosshead?” he asks.  You roll your eyes and slip off the barstool, yanking the cook away before Zoro can say something obscene back to him.

The nighttime air is chilly, a far cry from the memory of your first smoke together on a warm, peaceful night, leaning off the railing of the Merry.  He offers you his coat; when he had met you, during a time when you were less sure of yourself, you would have protested, unwilling to leave him cold at your expense.  Now, you accept it gladly.

“You deserve to suffer for a little while after all that whining.” you tease.

“And yet, here you are, dear.” he replies, smiling as he lights his cigarette. 

“On orders from my vice-captain.” you say with a lopsided grin.

“By all means, sunshine, let him keep thinking he runs the show.  I know who’s really in charge.” he replies grinning slyly and poking you in the side, cigarette hanging on his lips.  He never dares point it out to prevent embarrassing you, but it amuses him to no end how the cold, ruthless demon of a swordsman can so easily be rendered soft by you during moments when you both think no one else is looking.

Usually, he lights your cigarette with the tip of his, and you playfully blow the smoke from your first drag right in his face.  Tonight, he inexplicably finds himself reaching for his lighter.  The wind picks up as he tries to light yours in vain, even when he guards the flame with his other hand.  He eyes you expectantly, and you relent and use one of your hands as an extra layer of protection around the lighter until your cigarette is lit.

“Flirting tonight, sweetheart?” he asks playfully.  “A pretty little thing once told me that’s what placing your hands around my lighter like that means.”

“That was out of necessity blondie, you know that.” you reply, tone sounding a bit harsher than you intended as embarrassment tickles your cheeks—that someone had been you, who had at one point passed down a piece of wisdom to him that came from your mother: if a man is lighting your cigarette, cup your hand around the lighter if you intend to flirt with him.

“It’s a good concept, dear, I’ve gotten a lot of use out of it—” he assures you, running his free hand through his hair.

“Obviously it didn’t work well tonight, or you wouldn’t be out here with me.” you tease, poking fun at him for having approached you for company only after he’s exhausted his other options.

“You’re a tad bit acerbic tonight, dear.” he notes as he takes a drag.

“Only when strange men at the bar beg me for a smoke as a last resort.” you say with a smirk that quickly fades when you glance over and realize he’s not smiling back at you.

You let out a sigh and lean into his side.  “I only tease you because I care about you, Sanji.” you say, feeling guilty for playing around too much when he’s in one of his sensitive moods.

“I know, dearest.” Something in his tone doesn’t sit well with you; there’s a latent sadness behind it, whispering that he didn’t quite believe you. 

Turning towards him, you tap on his arm until he looks at you.  “You’re one of my closest friends Sanji; you’re more than just a shoulder to cry on, or a source of a good meal.  You’re dear to my heart.” you say once you have his attention.  You exhale in relief as the light behind Sanji’s visible eye returns and he gives you a grateful smile, stripped of the usual toying intentions or flirtations he offered.

The word friend had been poison to Sanji just a few minutes ago as he faced a violent string of rejections from women he’ll never see again, but now it felt like magic coming from you.  The cook knew he couldn’t ever dream of having you for his own in the way he wanted most women, but he suddenly found himself not caring about that in the slightest.

“The feeling’s mutual, sunshine.” he says, squeezing your arm.  The wind stills on the quiet street as a comfortable silence settles between the two of you.

“Is he good to you, sweetheart?” he asks.

“He is.  More than good, you know that.” you reply, smiling sheepishly. Despite his rivalry with the swordsman, Sanji admires the way you turn into a blushing mess at just the thought of the idiotic mosshead.

The cook lets out a sigh as he exhales smoke into the cold, winter night.  “He better not screw it up.”

You gently tap the barrel of your cigarette and watch the ashes fall to the ground, sinking into the fresh fallen snow.

“He won’t.  I think this is it, Sanji.  I really do.”

“Then I think that’s beautiful, sunshine.”

#one piece x reader #x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #platonic sanji x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x you #sanji x you

[lunaroserites]

Rosemary Tea

Pairing: Established Castiel x Witch!Reader

Summery: Set just after Cas becomes Cas again after Lucifer rode him around like a fine suit. Canon divergent.

Warnings: Unwanted physical contact, borderline SA, groping, kissing. Nothing is described in heavy detail. Lucifer gets handsy with reader while in Castiel’s body. Angst, Fluff, sweetness and a happy ending. Unedited, we die like Winchesters.

Words: 1446

Disclaimer: I’m not a practicing Wicca/witch so do not take what I say as correct. It is fiction. I do not own the supernatural characters depicted here.

If you have a request, feel free to ask me!

Castiel felt many things when he got his body back in his own control. One was guilt, another was utter sadness and the final was anger. Not at her, at himself for not being able to stop the violation of her trust.

Lucifer (Castiel) had sought her out. Castiel’s little lover. His pretty little witch. He was in the mood to make Castiel hate himself.

She opened the door to her little cabin, a place Castiel found peace in after the hardest days, the worst hunts. A place he called home for a while after Dean kicked him out. She gave Dean an ear full after finding out what happened.

She greeted Castiel (Lucifer) with a warm smile and sweet kiss on the cheek. It made Cas writh in the back of his own mind, her lips felt like heaven and foreign at the same time. Like he was feeling them though a veil. Her little familiar glaring at Castiel, something she found a little off because usually he loved the Angel. Now he seemed wary of the Angel standing before her. It made her feel on edge. Keeping her guard up she allowed Castiel into her home. Cas screamed for her to stop and just slam the door in his face.

“How have you been, love?” Her accent was old, hard to place but he loved it. She pulled a few dried herbs down from their drying spot, rosemary, dried apples and a cinnamon stick, his favourite tea. Not that he could really taste it but he liked the warmth and smell. Her next hint was when he told her to stop because the smell of cinnamon was too much.

“Love, are you okay?” She asked with concern thick in her voice. Castiel screamed for her.

Lucifer (Castiel) put his hands on her hips, an almost bruising hold. “I’ve just missed you,” he practically purred into her ears. He turned her in his arms and made her face him and he kissed her, he shoved his tongue deep in her mouth, dominating her. He was much rougher than usual. More demanding, forceful. Her Angel was gentle, sweet and endearing. This was… odd.

She pulled back for a moment and looked into his eyes, searching for something. His hands growing impatient glided up her torso and pawed her breast roughly. It felt wrong. She grabbed his hand and moved it away from her. “I’ve missed you too Castiel,” she said warily.

“Let me make us tea, and we’ll catch up,” she went to move away from and his grip on her hip tightened again.

“Now, now pet, I’m not done with you,” her stomach dropped and she felt sick. There was only one person in the entire world who called her that. She felt violated. She pushed him away. He had referred to her as the Winchesters pet witch in the past. Her blood was boiling.

“What have you done to him, Devil?” She snarled at him, trying to get out of his grasp. His hand that had been at her breast, was now gripping her hair at the base of her skull.

“Clever little Witch,” he spat at her, his voice full of venom. Her eyes were watering at the force he was holding her hair.

“You’re going to do as I say and enjoy it.” Was what he spat at her next, her cat being the smart creature it was, snarled and clawed his leg. Lucifer growled and kicked the cat back across the cabin floor. It was just enough distraction for her to free herself and slap her now bloodied palm on the angel banishing sigil on her wall. A blinding light filled the cabin and he was gone.

She dropped to the floor and emptied the contents of her stomach into the bin. Her cat came over and placed a worried paw on her thigh. She cried.

That was a couple months ago. The Winchesters had tried everything to get Lucifer out of Castiel’s body that didn’t involve him taking over Sam’s body. Finally they freed the Thursday Angel from the clutches of the devil.

That’s why he was now standing in front of her cabin hesitant to knock. She refused to see Castiel when he first ‘woke up.’

“The devil's touch is still haunting me.” Was what she told Dean when he called her to let her know Cas was back in control of his body. She spent weeks cleansing her cabin, trying to get the aura right again.

“He left a scar in my space that I can’t seem to mend.” She said quietly on phone with Dean when he called her a week prior to this moment of Castiel standing outside her door. She didn’t blame Castiel for what happened. She blamed the petulant child that was Lucifer. But her soul was scarred by him, the touch of the devil planting a seed of doubt in her. She hated it. She tried everything to mend it, nothing worked.

She felt him before he knocked, the cooling calm of his grace seeping its way back into her bones, into the cracks and crevices of her old cabin. It was mending the scars left by the devil. It cleansed the damaged aura, his grace doing something not even her witchcraft could do.

She opened the door to his raised hand as he was deciding whether to knock or just leave her to her own peace. Her familiar standing between her legs, scrutinizing his form. The familiar always seems to know what was what. The familiars glare softened and he swished his tail before sitting between her feet.

His grace encircled her, tickling her cheeks and cleansing her soul from the scar left by Lucifer. Her body visibly relaxed at the cooling embrace of his grace. “Castiel,” her voice sounded like heaven, his name like a prayer coming from her lips.

She reached her hand out and took his raised hand into it, she traced her fingers over his hands. He felt a tingling rush through his body as if she was forcing her own aura through his system, scrubbing any remnants of the devil from his soul.

“Angels don’t have souls,” he told her when she said his soul felt like a summer breeze to her. It brought her peace and cleansed her own.

“Everything has a soul.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Giving him a caring smile, before preparing his preferred tea.

“Would you like some tea?” She asked softly. Already turning to gather the ingredients. Castiel followed her eagerly. With deft hands she prepared the ingredients, leaving them to steep on her stove top. Her familiar had rubbed itself against Castiel, sitting between the two.

The smell of his favourite concoction wafted into his nose, it filled him with a sense of hope, that despite everything he was going to be okay.

“My love, how I’ve missed you,” her fingers clutching his hand over the table, his grace whisped around the cabin, it moved over her body making sure she was alright.

“I’ve missed you as well,” his gravely baritone captivated her. Her beautiful lavender eyes staring into his eyes, searching his soul for anything.

“You soul feels far away, forgive yourself love. I do not blame you for the actions of a petulant child throwing a tantrum.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly before getting up and pouring a mug of the tea for him, she stirred some agave nectar into it and laid it down in front of him.

His fingers gripped the mug and brought it up to his lips, he relished in the warm scent and warmth of the tea. He took a cautious sip and everything felt right. He gave her a curious look and she winked at him. She must have stirred some calming magic into because his soul felt at ease.

She moved and placed herself delicately on his lap and his arm supported her and fingers gently pressed into her side, keeping her sturdy. She placed her arm over his shoulder and touched his cheek with her other hand. “You know I knew something was wrong. My angel holds me like a delicate flower. That menace handled me like a piece of meat.”

“You are my delicate flower, the precious thing to me. I could never harm you.” His fingers ghosted her side. “I’m sorry he left that mark on your soul love, I hope my grace soothed it.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, “your grace has cleansed my soul and cleaned my space. All is right now.” She nuzzled her nose into his cheek lovingly.

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural #Lucifer #witch!reader #castiel imagine #castiel fluff #Castiel x witch!reader #established relationship #misha collins

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown; Part 2

Part 1 here ; You can also read on Ao3.

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence, drinking, sexual content (male masturbation, dom/sub undertones, switch dynamics, choking is briefly mentioned), slow burn, slightly enemies to lovers but not quite, background Bloodweave, the use of ‘idiot’ as a term of endearment, domestic violence and past child abuse, jealousy.

Series Summary:

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant. 

Notes: We are getting a little spicy! I love these two, we should have another update soon-ish. Maybe not this weekend, but soon.

Baldur’s Gate was busy.

After so long in the Underdark and then the Shadowcursed lands, Tav felt strangely crowded by the amount of people in the streets. And her mental list of tasks was getting longer by the minute. There was so much to do, and time was not on their side given the regular psionic earthquakes shaking the city. As she got them all settled in a room at the Elfsong (discounted thanks to a nasty murder in the room just next door) she wanted one night to get her wits about her.

Most everyone went their separate ways for the night: Shadowheart teamed up with Lae’zel to go speak with Voss, Halsin felt the need to shut himself up in the room, Jaheira had Harper business to attend to, while Wyll and Karlach went searching some old haunts for any friends that may still have been in the city. Gale and Astarion accompanied Tav downstairs to the pub, where they all delightfully wanted to share some quality drinks rather than the beggar's choices they had been drinking on the road. A familiar voice rang out amongst the crowd, singing a jaunty tune that had some nearby patrons singing along. 

“That’s Alfira!” Tav said excitedly. 

The bard had her audience’s gleeful attention, and nearby Tav spotted Lakrissa watching on. Her eyes flitted around the room, hoping to find another familiar face. The tieflings had set off for Baldur’s Gate shortly after the battle, ready to finally get to their destination now that the road was clear. The party had only crossed paths with them again just before entering Rivington. Rolan, Cal, Lia, Alfira and Lakrissa had joined them for a night of drinking to celebrate.

It was no party as they had after the Grove, but it was a much needed night of relief after the constant threat of the curse. Tav found herself wandering over to talk to him as often as she could. He was like a new person: excitement palpable at the prospect of finally making it to Ramazith’s Tower. She’d never seen him smile so much, and while she would never call him giddy — he was as close as Rolan could possibly be to such a state. 

The next night the tieflings left, and with them the rosy glow of victory dissipated. The tadpole crew  had been attacked by Githyanki and had to run to their Dream Guardians aid. only to find out that the mysterious entity in the prism was in fact a mindflayer called The Emperor. 

The idea that the one thing saving her was the very creature which she was actively trying not to change into felt poetic somehow. Fucked up to be sure, but poetic. 

Tav’s eyes danced along the crowd, looking for horns and flashes of red skin. Her excitement spiked, “look! It’s Cal and Lia.”

Astarion groaned, “here we go.”

“What?” 

“The tieflings are a charming group but everytime we cross them they need saving,” he said. “We really don’t have time for more heroics, darling, we got them to the city. Let them fend for themselves.”

“They’re friends, Astarion,” Gale scolded lightly.

“Needy friends.”

“I know all about those,” she gave him a pointed look. 

Astarion made a show of pouting, and batting his eyelashes which made Gale chuckle slightly into his cup. Their resident vampire couldn’t quite blush, but she saw his lips twitch in a sweet smile as he looked at Gale. 

“I’m going to say hello,” Tav said promptly, standing and grabbing her glass. “You two stay here and canoodle or whatever it is you get up to.” 

“Canoodle,” Astarion gagged the word. “You’re rubbing off on her now, Wizard.” 

“Expanding one’s vocabulary is nothing to scoff at!” 

“Having one walking encyclopedia is more than enough,” Astarion blithely retorted, “two would be intolerable.”

Tav was already making her way across the room as the two started bickering, her presence forgotten quickly as they started in on what she had to believe was their own special form of foreplay. As she came up, Lakrissa spotted her with a happy wave and she plopped down on the seat next to Cal. 

“It’s you!” He said happily. “When did you get here?”

“Just got into the city today. We crashed Gortash’s coronation and then nabbed the suite upstairs.” 

“Do you ever stop?” Lia asked aghast. “Less than a week ago you were infiltrating Moonrise.” 

“I wish I could stop,” Tav took a long drink. “It’s one thing after the other.”

“Being a hero is a full time job then?” Lia smirked. 

“More than full time,” Tav said. “And the pay is shit.” 

Lia laughed, “in that case, I’ll buy you a drink.” 

As Lia stood to head to the bar, Tav turned to Cal. “You lot made it in okay? No trouble?”

“Smoothest part of the journey. We got here just before they closed off the gate,” he said. “Lia’s already got work, and we’ve got a shoddy little place around here.” 

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Tav touched his shoulder. “Rolan must be so happy.” 

At the mention of his brother, Cal’s smile fell for a moment, but he quickly said, “he’s been working hard.” 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” She smiled, “is he staying with you?”

“No, he stays at the tower,” Cal said. “We… we haven’t seen much of him since we arrived.”

“Oh,” Tav said dumbly. Something felt off. 

“He writes though, just today he sent us some of his earnings,” Cal said. “We go to the shop to see him, but he makes us leave. Doesn’t want anyone to think he’s mucking about.”

Tav’s frown deepened. “I’ve got to head to Sorcerer's Sundries, maybe I can get him to come out for a drink.” 

“We’d like that,” Cal smiled. 

The first time he can remember his father hitting his mother was because she took the blame for a broken glass. Rolan hadn’t meant to, he was toying with the weave, practicing from a book he was borrowing and the spell went wrong. It shattered the glass into a million shards. 

He and his mother had looked at each other for split moment before she grabbed the biggest pieces and put them in the sink. When his father stormed in, she apologized, showing a bloody hand from the glass. Her apology hadn’t mattered, nor had tears or begging. They never did. After she died there was no one else to take the blame or the beatings. Rolan had always been tall, taller than all of his friends, but he was lanky and awkward. His hands were never comfortable in the shape of a fist, his arm never created the momentum to do any damage. He tried; every time his father’s fist made contact all Rolan felt was hot fury, his arms flailing and seeming to slide off of his target. It wasn’t until the hot fury turned into a witchbolt that he ever felt on even ground with his father. Rolan had left the house leaving him in as bad of shape as he always left his son, for once. 

He never went back into that house after that night. 

The bruises currently on his face felt nostalgic in a way that turned his stomach. Lorroakan and his father were similar in a sense that everything and nothing turned their moods, but his new master had the unfortunate upper hand of also having magic at his disposal. He had worked too hard to get where he was to up and leave the apprenticeship. Too much suffering, too much sacrifice; there would be no running to Cal and Lia’s doorstep as in his youth. He had to stick it out until he was in a position to claim something better. 

His mind had justified the beatings as a test, perhaps on keeping the mind focused even under threat. If he let the inkling that he had been duped linger too long he felt a shame and rage that was unbearable. So he put his head down, he worked hard, he took the beatings and he learned. Not from Lorrokan, but from other tellers around the shop. From the books Tolna suggested with her whispers becoming more conspiratorial and her eyes sympathetic. He hadn’t been to see Cal and Lia in days. 

He knew how they would react. His plan was to wait until the bruising went down and then face them again. Rolan’s position at the front was never boring, there was no way Sorcerer’s Sundries could ever be boring, he was convinced. It was incredibly busy, people coming in for protections against the threat of the cult that was at the doorstep of the city. He didn’t think twice when an armored group of four walked through the doors, just continued making sure the stock requisition forms were correct. 

“Rolan!”

That voice. For a moment he forgot that he had been beaten to a pulp the night before, too distracted by excitement when he looked up and saw her. Gale, Astarion and the Archdruid fell behind as Tav bound up to the front desk. 

“Tav,” he  greeted, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her smile fell a bit and her eyes flicked over his face. “Rolan, you - you look a little… worse for wear.” She frowned, “what happened to your face?” 

“Nothing for you to worry about,” The stinging of the cut on his lip splitting with his forced smile made him aware of how badly he looked again.  And Tav looked unconvinced. 

“Hardly a place to learn, working behind a desk,” Halsin commented. 

“This is my… apprenticeship.” He shrugged. “It has not been what I expected. Master Lorroakan is a… difficult man.” 

There was a crackle of static, the light shining from behind Tav’s eyes. He saw her take a deep breath, and place an easy smile on her face. Saving him his dignity, he’d presume. 

“He’s consumed by this pursuit of the Nightsong. I haven’t learnt a thing, and I fear it will stay that way.”  

“A lucky escape,” Gale chimed in, “given Lorroakan’s reputation. He’d have little of value to teach you.” 

Rolan smiled in thanks. “But never mind that. What can I do for you?”

Tav looked like she wanted to say something, even opened her mouth to start but she hesitated. Finally, she said, “funny you mention it, we actually have information about the Nightsong.”

Rolan leveled her with a serious look. A pit forming in his stomach. “Be very sure before you make a visit to Lorroakan,” he warned, “he’s got a beastly temper.” At her raised eyebrow at the comment, he quickly added, “but if you really do know something, he’ll want to see you. Head upstairs, you can find the way into his tower up there.” 

“We will,” she nodded. 

“Before we speak with your… beastly master,” Gale chimed in, “might you direct us in the direction of where we can find tomes of a rare nature?”

“Tolna handles tomes,” he said, “just around this pillar.” 

“Wonderful, thank you,” Gale said, then leaned in, “if you want a real teacher, the Elfsong is our home for the duration of our stay.” He winked before he walked away, ushering Astarion and Halsin away with him.

“Rolan,” Tav said. 

“Don’t,” he said, a bit more brusquely than he wanted to. “There’s nothing you can do.” 

“Has that ever stopped me before?”

“I mean it,” his temper flared, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then, “your party will be waiting for you.”

“Come by tonight,” she said quickly. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I owe you a bottle of Arabellan Dry.”

She walked away then. He tried not to let his gaze follow her, but it did anyway, interrupted by a customer coming up to the desk. And then another. Incapable of controlling the desire to look at her, he turned to Tolna’a corner of the shop.  Tav was looking at him, a darker look than he had seen before. She looked away quickly when she was caught, speaking with Tolna until they decided to make their way up the stairs. 

If Lorroakan laid a finger on her, Rolan was not sure he could contain himself. She could handle herself, she had her friends by her side even if she couldn't, but he would never forgive himself if she came down those steps with a single mark from his bastard master.

He wasn’t sure how long they were up there, speaking to his master. But when they came down she was storming towards the entrance, not looking back, with her party following as they always did. At the very least she looked unharmed, if not furious. He opened his mouth to call after her, but someone came up to the counter and he had to keep himself from chasing after her.

After his shift, he withstood the usual line of questions watching Lorroakan closer than ever. The man seemed unharmed, a little angrier than usual, but so distracted he waved Rolan off after one sharp smack across his face. It was not too late, and the walk to the Elfsong was not terribly long.

Rolan made it to the door of the inn, people were gathered outside speaking, the doors open and letting the sounds of revelry spill into the street. There was no initial sight of anyone he knew from his spot on the threshold of the door. The idea of pretending everything was fine made his stomach churn, in fact, he was not sure he was capable of it. 

Every negative emotion he ever harbored only ever warped into an anger he was still learning to temper. He was angry and ashamed and the pub was too loud so he turned around. Cowardly of him, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her or know if she had confronted Lorroakan on his behalf. Ever since she had come back from Moonrise separate from the freed prisoners, an uncomfortable parallel had drawn itself in his mind. 

Seeing her bruised and bloody always reminded him of his mother bearing wounds and blame that were meant for him.

When Rolan didn’t show up at the Elfsong, it had stung. She tried not to take it personally, she tried not to think too much on it, but there she was alone with an unopened bottle of his favorite wine. She was sat dejectedly around the unused pipe the room came with, sitting on some of the pillows that littered the floor. 

“Well, no point in letting it go to waste,” Astarion sighed, feigning actual sympathy for her situation as he sat with her, “may as well crack it open.” 

She tugged it closer to her protectively. “I owe him this bottle, I’ll bring it to him when we go back.” 

Astarion gave her a look that not even the tadpole needed to decipher: it screamed ‘you can’t be serious.’ She felt her face heat up, and looked away. 

“If I knew you liked your sweethearts a little mean I would have gone about my seduction much differently,” he finally teased. 

“And you think you were what? Sweet?” 

“Not sweet,” he conceded, “more… sultry.” 

“Well it seemed to work on Gale,” she muttered. 

Astarion leveled her with a half-hearted glare. “I thought you weren’t interested. I could always ask him if he’s up for a third.” 

“No, thank you,” she shuddered dramatically. “That’s too much ego for me.” 

“Afraid you couldn’t keep up, darling?”

“I’m afraid I won’t fit into the bed,” she scoffed, “it’s remarkable enough that the pair of your giant heads fit into one room.” 

Astarion chuckled a little. “It’s not  just our  heads that are big, my dear.”

Tav launched a pillow at him, and his true laugh, high pitched and unrehearsed echoed making her smile. “I suppose we ought to tell Dame Aylin about Lorroakan.”

Astarion hummed. “I do want to see her rip him in half, but we just settled in for the night. Perhaps in the morning.”

“The morning sounds good,” Tav nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.

When she had discovered Lorroakans goals for Aylin, Tav found an opportunity present itself. While he had his own head up his ass, and was a cruel bastard, she could feel his power even by just standing in the room. She had more than enough reasons to blast him out of the window; he wanted to imprison Aylin, he had been rather rude to Gale, and then there was the state of Rolan’s face. 

Gods, she could have sent a fireball in his face for that alone. 

But he was powerful. And having Dame Aylin at their side to rid the world of his wretched smirking face would probably be a good idea. And Tav supposed it would mean a lot to Aylin to take down another megalomaniac that wanted to use her for immortality. After hundreds of years of imprisonment she could offer her new ally that. 

“He’s very proud,” Astarion said suddenly. 

“Lorroakan? Proud is putting it lightly.” 

“Rolan,” Astarion emphasized. 

“Oh.” 

“When we found you by the lake I thought he might hit you,” Astarion was not looking at her, but his tone had a rare tinge of sincerity. 

“Oh, no, Astarion, no,” Tav said immediately. “He was angry, but he had just saved me. Pulled me out of the lake and I — I said some unkind things.” 

“I’m only saying,” Astarion seemed to bolster every genuine fiber of his being to say, “you ought not sit around sullenly for a man who is only ever angry at you for helping him. There’s plenty of people whose eye you’ve caught, you hardly have to settle for someone who can’t be bothered to show up.” 

It hurt to hear, but there may have been a tinge of truth to it. Still, Astarion had not been there by the lake when he shared his last bottle with her. She’d seen something in him that night, something that plagued her thoughts when the rest of camp went quiet and she was alone. It was some unknown depth she had yet to reach, and desperately wanted to. 

She shook her head. “You still can’t have this bottle. I’m a woman of my word.” 

“Spoilsport,” he pouted. 

The moment passed, and they went about the night without mentioning Rolan. Except when Gale came to sit with them and inquired after him to which Astarion elbowed him hard enough to make the Wizard wheeze. For the rest of the night it was business as usual with her friends and as she fell asleep she found herself wondering  if Astarion was right to be warning her off of these feelings that had bloomed. 

An ungodly crash shook the building, raining down glass upon the patrons and stopped only by some quick thinking on Tonlu’s behalf. Shortly after Tav and her crew came storming through the door and without even a passing glance they ran up the stairs towards the top of the tower. 

“Hey! What are you —“ 

When none of them were stopped by his exclamation, he jumped over the desk to follow them up.  As he followed them into their portal of choice, Lorroakan stood confronting an incredibly tall otherworldly looking winged woman. 

Tav stood a decent distance behind, her arms folded over her chest and her stance sturdy. He had rarely seen her in action, and the one time he had it was a dark chaotic whirl when she saved him from the Shadow Curse. Gale stood at her side, even his demeanor in the face of confrontation had changed from its normal welcoming smile to a stern focus. Karlach was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, and the Archdruid stood still but there was something about his demeanor which resembled a creature about to pounce. In all honesty, they were terrifying. 

“What are you so scared of magus? Not the Nightsong, surely, she’s nothing but a relic to be purchased and pursued.” The winged woman seethed. 

Rolan was brought out of his awe at Tav and her companions. He stared at the winged woman. “My gods, the Nightsong is a person?”

“Boy! At the ready,” Lorroakan commanded, “once I’ve taken control of the aasimar she must go directly into the caging runes.”

Everything in him rejected the idea. He felt Tav’s eyes on him, leaving him bolstered by righteousness “No, Master Lorroakan,” he said firmly, “I would never have assisted you if I knew you planned such horrors.” He would not be cowed by the rage that slipped onto Lorroakan’s face. “You lied to get the Nightsong here. Made us all believe she was nothing but a relic.” He turned to Tav, “I  have seen what true leadership can accomplish — “ and finally to his master, “but never under your tutelage.” 

“Watch your tongue, you child,” Lorroakan hissed, “I could make it such that no wizard in the realm will touch you.” 

���If they’re all like you, I think that sounds like an excellent bargain,” Rolan shot back.

This pleased the aasimar, who rallied a truly hateful laugh, “face us, charlatan! We who detest you so.”

Then it was a blur of violence.

 Rolan kept his focus on Lorroakan as did the Nightsong. Tav and her friends kept the myrmidon’s he had summoned at bay after making quick work of his assistant. Tav was a storm of magic, untamed and rawly powerful. She moved in perfect tandem with her companions, they knew how to leave room for attacks, when to parry and duck. 

Rolan had to focus. Keeping Lorroakan from blocking or containing the Nightsong was no easy feat. He threw counter spell after counter spell, surprising himself every time his will overpowered his former master’s. The fire myrmidon sent a blaze of fire toward him — not enough to truly hurt him but it broke his focus. With a yell, he saw Tav fly to get in position and then call down a chain of lightning which stuttered the movements of the myrmidon and rained down on its allies. Even Lorroakan was hit. 

Finding an opening, Rolan deployed an onslaught of magic missiles which hit him in instant succession. Lorroakan fell to his knees in a daze. Behind them, he saw Gale finish off one of the myrmidon’s and Karlach made quick work of another. The Archdruid had taken the shape of a bear, claws shredding the armor of the third. Tav very nearly pushed him out of the way as another hail of fire fell on them, the smell of burning hair and flesh filling the room. She gave an angry yell, thunder boomed and the construct of fire hit the wall before turning to ash. 

Just as he was going to ask if she was okay, Lorroakan howled. They watched as the Nightsong lifted the famed master of Razamith’s Tower and snapped his spine in half over her armored knee. 

It was cathartic, and quite the relief when she tossed him onto the floor as if he were nothing. 

He watched as she left, wordlessly, in a haze of feathers and silver light. 

“Lorroakan is dead,” he said, in disbelief. “The Bastard is dead.” 

“Are you alright?” Tav asked. 

“I am, now that the bastard is in bits,” he smiled a little. “Lorrokan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I’d tend the shop. By night, he’d fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I’d answered wrong he’d beat me.” 

Flashes of the nights spent in the tower flickered by, Lorrokan’s pale skin in his memories sometimes replaced by red skin and eyes that matched his own. He looked away from Tav’s intent stare. 

“I could have killed him with my own two hands,” he breathed, “but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be.” At her patient gaze, her friends, maybe their friends, standing by just as understanding he found himself unfurling. “I thought it was the price to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man.”

“I’m sorry, Rolan,” Tav said. “You were so looking forward to your apprenticeship.” 

“I see things clearly now,” he shook his head, “if I wish to master the weave, I must do it myself.” She didn’t look convinced. “Thankfully I have everything I need, right here.”

“More than everything,” Gale said. “You’ll make a fine wizard, Rolan.”

“Thank you.” 

“You should go to Lia and Cal. They’re worried sick, mate.” Karlach piped up. 

“I’ll move them in right away,” he assured her. “Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. They are gonna love the tower.” 

“I’m sure they will,” Tav smiled, but it was weak and somewhat forced. 

She was singed by the fire myrmidon. A few of her hairs were singed, she had ash on her face and an angry burn just below her chin. Tav had looked worse, he knew, but again he understood the gravity of what she had done for him. Even inadvertently.

Instead of anger, he felt deep gratitude and finally the means to pay her back. 

“I wouldn’t have all this — the tower, my family — if it weren’t for you.” At once Tav’s face shifted to something softer, the storm in her eyes quelled. “What can I do to thank you?”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she assured him. 

Before he could respond, Gale cleared his throat. “Certainly, Tav’s generosity is to be commended but,” he said, “we could make use in the way of supplies and… access to some of the rarer tomes.”

Tav winced slightly. “Supplies would be helpful,” she admitted. “And Gale has tunnel vision about a book that’s hidden in the tower.”

“I’d be happy to assist,” he nodded his head. “I’ve yet to journey into the vaults, we can figure them out together.”

“An excellent idea,” Gale nodded with a slight bow. “Perhaps we may also employ Astarion’s assistance, he’s the pilfering sort.”

“He may have stolen some material components when we were here last,” Tav seemed mortified but Karlach was cackling behind her. 

“You can have whatever you like,” Rolan said quickly. “Leave only the scrolls and tomes.”

“Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “We’ll — erm — let you settle in.”

“Before you go, know this,” Rolan quickly gathered his courage, “Ramazith’s tower and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand with you as allies.” 

“Enjoy your new digs!” Karlach called as they turned to leave. 

“We will be back soon,” Gale assured him.

Tav had nothing else to say to him as she left. 

It was a bit awkward as Tav, Gale, Astarion and Rolan ventured into the vaults. 

Rolan and Gale were getting along swimmingly, volleying knowledge and theories off of each other. Astarion hung back with Tav, unlocking doors as needed, but lingering behind the two wizards gushing over the hidden collection of Ramazith’s. The tiefling was rather charming, she found, when he was matched in wit and interest. Perhaps it was Gale’s own warm nature that brought it out of him, but regardless, Tav found herself watching the two of them interact so easily with an uncomfortable prickle under her skin.

She’d never been so annoyed at Gale before, not even when he nearly blew them all up in the name of forgiveness for his ex. He also thought he would be saving the world, but even so — the fact he even considered it worth mentioning had made her want to smack him. Now she just wished he’d shut up. 

“I think one wizard is more than enough,” Astarion said blithely. “You needn’t bring this one back to our rooms.”

“He has a big fancy tower now,” Tav replied. “Our suite at the Elfsong looks like a hovel in comparison.”

“Do you think they’d even notice if we left?” 

“Probably not.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. Tav felt his eyes slinking toward her. “Shall we take off without them?”

“That sounds like a terrible idea. I’m in.”

It was a terrible idea and they had quite a few burns to show for it. They had stumbled upon an armory, full to the brim with enchanted armors and weapons. Of course, the room had vaulted a fireball at them at Astarion’s initial failure to pick a magical lock. But a column of alabaster had saved them from being incinerated, only the immeasurable heat had gotten them. Tav was, as Gale had so diplomatically put it at the start of their journey, not studied in magic. She just was magic, always had been.

Her knowledge of the arcane only went so far beyond what she felt. She knew spells, knew the names of them, but she mostly just went with her gut at what to throw around and found its name later. When faced with a room full of enchanted objects, she only could pick them up to see what they did. Some of it came with tags that had details of the magical abilities they held, but at some point Lorroakan had taken to hoarding rather than cataloging. 

Tav slipped on a ring, basic in appearance, a simple gold band with writing engraved around its circumference and felt herself thrust into a state of unbeing. She could see Astarion, but around him was a whirl of  chaos. Energies of different colors collided and roared, in a cacophony that felt somehow familiar but overwhelming. Her hand reached out and a trail of lightning wrapped around her arm. She knew the tingling zap of it well, the rumble of thunder taking the place of her heart beat and the soft spray of rain. But it became too much, the sear of the lightning overtaking her and she wrenched the ring off. 

“Tav where the hells did you go?” Astarion asked.

“Did I go somewhere?” 

“You disappeared!” He said. “Is that a ring of invisibility?” 

“Definitely not,” Tav said, quickly taking off her vambraces where her skin still tingled. 

“Oh, my,” Astarion looked down at her arm. “Have you always had that?”

Her forearm was covered in white divuts that spidered out and glowed slightly. As if lightning lived there in her arms. It didn’t hurt, but it felt as if the remnants of a touch were electrically charged. Her and Astarion were still enraptured by the marks when the door flew open. 

“There you two are,” Gale said. “By Mystra’s eyelids, you can’t go wandering off in a highly guarded wizard’s tower!”

“By who’s eyelids, darling?”

Even without knowing all the details of their relationship, Tav could see the coldness in Astarion’s eyes and the flood of tension that took over the room. Gale looked as if he had fallen into a frozen lake. Something was transpiring between her friends and she felt as if she was not supposed to see it. 

“Look what we found!” Tav said  to Rolan who stood back with arms folded and looking unamused. “An armory!”

“Is that so?” 

She bounded up to him, if only to get away from the unspoken conversation happening between Gale and Astarion. 

“What happened to your arm?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” 

Rolan leveled her with a look. 

“I put on this ring, and Astarion said I disappeared — “ Rolan’s eye actually twitched, so she barreled on before he could yell, “but I could see him it was just like I don’t know, everything around was just energy. And something reached out to grab my hand and it felt like my magic, like my own magic was holding my hand!” She was excited despite the unusual state of her arm. “And when I took it off I had this.” 

He grabbed her arm, fingers running over the divots and inspecting it. Turning it over, his nails dragged along the sensitive flesh of the inside and dragged over her palm. A pleasurable shudder rippled down her spine. 

“Did that hurt?”

“Uh,” she felt her brain zap, “no.” 

It felt very good. 

“They’re fading.” 

Now that she looked at it, the glow was siphoning away very slowly. “Huh.” 

Rolan brought her arm closer for him to inspect. His hands were incredibly warm. As he asked her questions about what she saw, she found herself answering almost dazedly. It was only after he seemed to have asked all the questions he could and was simply holding her arm in quiet contemplation that she realized he was rubbing his thumb along her skin. 

“Rolan,” she said quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can I have my arm back?”

He dropped it as if it flooded him with an electric shock. “You seem fine. Please refrain from playing with magical artifacts you have no idea how to properly use.” 

“That’s no fun.”

His eye twitched again. 

“Erm,” she said, “did you find Karsus’ book?”

Rolan’s eyes slid over her shoulder, back where Astarion and Gale were. He motioned for her to follow him, and around the same pillar of stone which had saved her and Astarion,  he led her out of the room. 

“We found the book.” 

“Oh, good,” she said. “Gale says it’s integral for figuring out how to deal with the Elder Brain.”

“Yes,” Rolan said quietly. “What do you know of Karsus?”

“Only what Gale has told me,” she replied. “Fall of netheril, tried to become a god, - just the juicy stuff.”

“Then you know how it ended last time someone played with that kind of power.”

“I do.” 

“Gale is an immensely talented and knowledgeable wizard,” Rolan prefaced.

“Got a crush, do you?”

The tone of her voice was a little more pointed than she liked. An ugly thing inside of her scratching at her chest at his praise of Gale. Which was unreasonable. Gale was everything he said; Gale was one of her best friends. There was no reason for her to be acting this way. 

Rolan frowned. “I’m not trying to argue with you nor insult him, I’m only letting you know there was something about the way he talked about the crown, and the book. Please, keep an eye on him.”

Tav remembered how Gale had reacted to first seeing the crown, and then to the way he had near badgered her about finding the book. He had to correct himself when he talked about what the crown would do for him — the quick addition of for us that he added as an afterthought. 

Tav nodded. 

“I don’t mean to intrude,” he said. “You’ve helped my family a hundred times over. I owe it to you to do the same.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” She corrected. She hated how transactional it sounded. 

“Are you angry with me?” He asked, an edge to his voice that she knew spelled trouble. 

“Angry? No.”

Yes. No? She wasn’t sure. She almost wanted to pick a fight. It seemed to be the only time he ever gave her any mind. She didn’t know arcane history, couldn’t gush over magical theory with him — and he had never shown up for that bottle of wine. He only paid attention to her when he was upset with her. She wanted to needle at him, to make herself the focus of that blazing amber gaze even if he was snarling at her. 

Astarion was walking out of the room, jolting them out of the staring contest they were having. “Send him back when you’re done with him,” Astarion waved at Rolan. “He wants to identify some of those objects.” 

He walked off, an air of finality about his path. Something had happened. Her role of leadership reared its head, if there was dissent amongst the camp it was her job to temper it. 

“You have to go,” he said.

“Duty calls.” She sighed. “Thank you for the warning. We will drop by again, I’m sure.”

Rolan only nodded in reply and she set off. 

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant. 

Only in crowds would she thaw. He’d been making his way to the Eflsong with Lia and Cal, under the guise of watching Alfira perform or to see Lakrissa. The team of heroes often joined them, sometimes looking worse for wear but never bringing whatever challenges they were facing with them. Tav talked when everyone was around, talked to him and was friendly enough. But they never had a moment alone.

 Even if they did he was not sure what he would say. Being the new owner of Ramazith’s was a full time endeavor; if he wasn’t experimenting he was busy trying to manage the shop. More and more people were turning up for protective measures against the string of events which threatened the city. Cal and Lia helped, happy to have a place to live and a job. It was becoming a rather fluid family business. 

But when the day slowed down or at night when laid in bed in Lorroakan’s reclaimed room, his mind drifted always to her. If he saw her at the bar that night he had committed to memory what she wore, any new cuts and bruises, and how the old ones were healing. His hand would drift under his trousers, gently massaging his length as it swelled with interest at the thought of her.

Every peak of cleavage where that damned pearl pendant dangled so teasingly where he wanted to kiss was seared into his mind. Each glance at her leaning over the bar to speak with Alan and order a round of drinks for everyone had him begging to grab at the swell of her bottom. Her eyes when she had stared Lorroakan down before she erupted in a flurry of magic. The calm before the storm of her wrath. How they would soften for her friends, and even him when she glanced over. 

Rolan would stroke himself to different imaginings of her. His gallant hero riding him, hands on his chest and glorious as she chased her pleasure. Or beneath him, soft and pliant for once, only for him. Teasing but humbled as he was a benevolent but stern authority, until she finally allowed him to experience the bliss of her submission. To let him take care of her for once.

He could even be the submissive, he thought despite never having considered it before, imagining cooing praise as he gave her whatever she wanted. Gods, he knew she would take him apart in ways he could never recreate with anyone else. He would trust her to hold her hand around his throat, to lovingly claw at his skin, to whisper words of adoration in contrast to the way she had control of his very breath in her grip.He would spill over into his own hand with visions of her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. She was, so far unwittingly, boring her way into his mind the same way the illithids had done to her. 

But that very tadpole had kept her very busy. The trouble in Baldur’s Gate only grew more intense. Everyone had seen less of her crew as the days went on, only Alfira or Lakrissa getting glimpses of them racing to and fro at the inn day in and out. Everything was coming to a catalyst, he could feel it in the air. It was bad enough that his family had viewed Baldur’s Gate as a haven only to find it on the verge of chaos, now the very object of his desires was at the very center of it all. Storybooks often spoke about the plight of heroes, rarely did they touch upon the abject misery of the ones who loved them.

Watching them destroy their bodies, minds and hearts to be brave enough to save the day. Unable to do anything but offer mere pittances. And Tav wouldn’t even allow him to do that. 

In the midst of his musings on her one night as they closed the shop, a violent earthquake shook the city. They were more common these days but this one felt different, it lasted longer, the tremor nearly knocked potion bottles off the wall and the whole city seemed to freeze moments after it passed. 

“Do you think it’s them?” Cal had asked, breaking the terrified silence. 

“It always is.”

They had gone to the Elfsong after the shop was locked up. All agreeing that their friends might need them, even if just to buy them a drink. When he arrived, the place was packed. Voices loud as people theorized and panicked over drinks, not even Alfira’s songs could carry over the din. 

Their heroes were nowhere to be seen. 

They found Lakrissa, who was attempting to be a one woman crowd for Alfira. “Have they returned? Do they know what’s going on?”

Lakrissa looked grim. “We saw the Archdruid carrying someone small  — maybe a halfling or a gnome or something — up the stairs. They looked bad.”

Rolan felt his stomach plummet through the wood floor. 

“Tav came down to grab wine, Alfira said she was heading up to the roof when she came down to perform.” 

Rolan was turning for the stairs before Lakrissa finished the sentence. Something was off. He passed by the suite which he knew her party was in, voices were low but they were in there. He saw the open hatch and climbed up with a grunt.

The roof was not lit up, but the city lights allowed for a low glow that partially blotted out the stars. The crescent moon above was not much helpful but it was out clear as day. He spotted a figure, alone, slumped over at the far end of the roof. Even in the dark he knew it was her. 

He approached only to be met with her calling, in slurred together words, “‘ready told you, Karlach. I don’ wanna watch you arm wrestle Minsc.”

“They should sell tickets to that,” he said in response. “You’d all be rich.”

She turned around sharply. “S’ you.”

“It’s me,” he replied. “May I join you?”

“M’pissed, and miserable,” she slurred. “Not good,” she belched, “company.” 

It was oddly charming, despite her drooping eyes and the way she dryly licked her lips after. He was so used to her being a force of unflappable willpower and leadership, seeing her just be a person who gets piss drunk to drown her sorrows was novel. Rolan sat next to her, amongst a small nest of pillows and blankets Alfira and Lakrissa had put up there when they first got to the city. Tav looked out at the water. 

“I wanna go swimming.”

“I think the Chionthar is only slightly safer than a cursed lake,” he replied. “Best stay on land.”

“No fun.”

Despite her attempts at lightning the mood everything felt off. She leaned her chin on the stone wall that she sat in front of. The bottle in her hand precariously tipped. 

“I felt that quake earlier, your doing?”

“killed a Bhaalspawn.” She said plainly. “Stole a netherstone. Brain is getting restless.”

If anyone else had strung those words together it would have been utter nonsense. 

“Thats good, isn’t it? You ought to be celebrating.”

“No,” she shook her head slowly. “No celebrating.”

“What happened?”

“Bhaalspawn bitch took Yenna,” she sniffed. 

The little girl they had picked up in Rivington. Rolan had yet to meet her, but she had been their newest addition. Rolan recalled being horrified that they allowed a child in their camp, given their circumstances. He thought it might not be a good idea to bring that up, just then.

“Is she alright?”

“Physically? Sure.”

It was quiet again. He heard her breathing pick up, a wet swallow. 

“They made her eat her fucking cat.” She spat, voice cracking. “She’s ten years old. Lost her mother, and all she had was Grub. They took her from right under my nose. Killed the damn cat and made her eat it.” 

When he looked over he saw tears, his heart stuttering. Half unsure what to do in the face of such a horrifying thing to imagine and half desperate to hold her. 

“Everywhere I go,” she said distractedly, “there’s just blood and horror.” She pulled a long drink of wine from the bottle. “And everyone’s fucking lost it in this city. Gale wants to become a God, and we all know it’s just to get back at Mystra — they ought to call her the bitch queen — and just two days ago I had to talk Astarion out of  the right of ascension — 2000 people he was going to sacrifice!” She was ranting, hiccups and sobs breaking through every once in a while. “Karlach’s given up. Shadowheart’s parents — we looked for them and she  fought so hard and they’re just gone. Lae’zel wants me to make a deal with a devil, and poor Wyll,” she sniffled. “His dad — he — and Mizora that cunt! We have to find his dad.” She had her head in her hands. “There’s still one more netherstone, we have to get the hammer, then there’s the brain.”

“You need to breathe,” he reached out. 

“I’m not meant to do this!” She yelled suddenly. “I’m not — I’m supposed to take over my mum and dad’s stupid pub, I’m supposed to be at home, with my little sister and my mother.”

“Tav,” he tried to interrupt.”

“Instead I’m here, and I’ve got this thing in my head and they want time to lead them — and I don’t know why! I’m nothing — no one — I don’t know what to do —“

“Sweetheart, stop,” he pleaded, reaching out to her. “You’re alright.” 

“I’m not,” she choked. “I can’t, Rolan. I can’t do this.” 

“You can,” he said firmly. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, “you’re going to sleep this off, and tomorrow you will infuriate me by accomplishing the impossible — as you always do.” 

She was at least calming down, breathing coming easier even if fresh warm tears spilled out of her eyes onto his hands. His thumb gently wiped them away, careful of his nails. 

“You didn’t see what I saw out there in the cursed lands, or even in the tower. You may be an idiot but you’re a capable idiot. If anyone can save the city, it’s you and your freak show of friends.” 

She smiled, a soft laugh nothing more than a breath escaping her lips. Rolan had a sinking feeling he was in over his head, with the way she still looked so lovely to him; face puffy, drunk and still covered in gore he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. His thumb gently rubbed the skin of her cheek, and she closed her eyes, seeming to have rid herself of all the tears she could and now seeming calmer. 

They sat like that for a while. She breathed and came back to herself, he contemplated how awful he had been to her before. Tav was larger than life, but even she was only flesh and blood. The weight on her shoulders was more than he could even imagine. He’d never been more sure about his decision to offer his help when the time came, anything to lighten her load. 

 For a moment he thought she might have passed out until she spoke. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Rolan felt struck by lightning by the change of subject. “You — do you want me to kiss you?”

Tav opened her eyes, albeit somewhat blearily she smiled mischievously. “Don’t be dumb,” she said, “you know I do.”

“I do not know that,” he said defensively. 

“Well now you do,” she leaned forward, her hands still curled into his robes. Her eyes slid shut again and Rolan tilted his head and leaned in, unable to resist the magnetic force that she seemed to emanate as their lips came closer. 

Her breath smelt so strongly of wine, he suddenly outstretched his arms to keep her at a safe distance. “You’re drunk,” he scolded. Whether it was her or himself he was scolding, was unclear. 

“Yes.” She nodded and then seemed to get dizzy from the motion

“We should get you to bed.” 

“Oh?”

“Stop it,” he tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “You’re going to bed to sleep.” 

“That isn’t fun.” 

“I’m not fun,” he reminded her. “I’m a prick with a stick up my arse, as my sister so kindly put it.” 

“Sorry, Rolan,” Tav said seriously, “wasn’t paying attention. Whose prick is going in whose arse? Because m’not equipped — I guess we could buy one but at this hour?“

“Bed!” Rolan said immediately. 

“No,” she whined, “I’m sleeping up here.”

“You are not.”

“I am,” she said, draining the last of her bottle only to have it yanked away from her. “You can’t carry me down the ladder.”

It was said petulantly, with a singsong voice and a cackle of laughter afterwards, but she was right. Rolan grabbed at the pillows and blankets Alfira had snuck up and threw together a makeshift bed. He  shoved at her shoulder until she laid back and she sighed happily, turning onto her side. 

“I like when we get along.” She said in a quiet voice.

“Me too.” 

After a while he laid on the ground. His feet faced her head and there was a safe amount of distance, in case anyone found them. He didn’t need her friends getting the wrong idea if they found them, he was already sure Astarion wanted to kill him. 

He felt something pulling at one of his horns and his eyes slid open. Tav was over him, trying to lift his head. 

“What are you doing?”

“Pillow,” she said plainly. “Head up.” 

He allowed her to place one under his head, and then rested back. When she laid back down, her fingers brushed against him. Barely noticeable, only The back of her knuckles pressed against his. He curled one finger around hers and she did the same. As he looked down, even in the darkness her arms still had marks from whatever had happened when she put on that ring in the tower. 

After a few days with no other side effects, they had all assumed it had been some kind of magic attachment that hadn’t taken full hold. The lines were thin, barely there, but he considered what it could have been. After all the work that had to be done at the shop, it had slipped his mind to research it. At least now he had something to do to keep his mind off of her running to infiltrate the new archduke’s home and murder him. 

“Why didn’t you come?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“What do you mean?”

“Gale wanted to teach you,” she mumbled, “and I… have that bottle for you.” 

Things had happened so fast, getting Cal and Lia settled, being thrust into owning not just a massive home but a very popular magical goods shop had made him forget that night entirely. He had made it all the way to the door of the Elfsong, skin still stinging from Lorroakan’s ‘training’ just the hour before. 

“I got as far as the front door,” he said, “and turned around.” 

“Why?”

“I was… overwhelmed.” 

“Oh.” 

He said nothing in response and after a few moments he heard her start to snore. With a sigh he settled in and closed his eyes. The stone roof was a poor substitute for his new large, exceedingly comfortable bed in the tower. Leaving her side seemed far from worth it to sleep in his own bed, even if she did snore.

Thank you so much for reading!

Next Chapter

#rolan fic #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #bg3 fanfiction #olly writes

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

@incorrectly-quoting-mxtx

❤️🛣️🐈

Whenever Wei Ying returned from work, he greeted Lan Zhan with a kiss and rushed into the kitchen starved for food. He would tell his husband all about his day, sneak in some kisses and touches while the food finished cooking and they'd have dinner after that.

That day, Wei Ying skipped the kiss and everything, rushing to the bathroom the moment he opened the door, barely getting his shoes off.

"Wei Ying?!"

"Come help me!" came the reply from the bathroom and that was all Lan Zhan needed to all but sprint there. Was Wei Ying feeling ill? Had something happened to him at work, or on the way home?

Lan Zhan's worries were soon put to rest the moment he found Wei Ying leaning against the bathtub, holding a tiny, black kitten in a fluffy, white towel.

"I got some kitten formula at the store just now, it's in the plastic bag I left at the door. Go make me some while I warm her up, okay?"

Lan Zhan nodded and left to do as he was instructed, making a note to coo over his husband later. He was always so kind and loving to everyone, humans or animals, and that was especially true for little ones. He could be an amazing father for every creature on the planet and Lan Wangji would find that incredibly endearing for all the rest of his life.

Wei Ying emerged from the bathroom with the kitten to his chest soon after. He got her little paws cleaned off mud, and her fur dry of rainwater.

"Did you find the syringe I got to feed her?"

"Mn."

And Lan Zhan handed the item to his husband, who began carefully dripping milk into the kitten's mouth. Her big, blue eyes widened immediately at the taste, and she began to lap it up greedily. Wei Ying huffed a laugh, and Lan Zhan's heart grew three sizes.

"Where did you find her?"

"On the side of the road, just now. I heard really loud meowing from a bush, and when I looked, I found her alone in a tiny box. Someone must have left her there."

The syringe emptied before either of them had expected, but Lan Zhan was quick to fill back up and hand it back to his husband. The kitten had protested the brief pause in eating, but quickly shut up upon feeling more milk coming.

"So, I rushed to the nearest pet store, got her some formula and brought her here. I couldn't have left her to die in the cold outside, or be eaten by dogs."

The kitten seemed to have become impossibly comfortable in the fluffy towel and being generously fed, her eyes drooping closed. Wei Ying removed the syringe from her mouth and wiped her with a corner of the towel, gently rocking her to sleep.

The sight softened Lan Wangji's heart until he felt like it had melted into his body, and he couldn't help wrapping a hand around Wei Ying's waist and leaving a kiss at the top of his head. "What should we name her?"

"I don't know. Something sweet." And Lan Zhan could almost feel Wei Ying's smile. "Sweet like you."

They ended up naming her - who, mind you, was a he after all - Wangji. And if the human Wangji spent half his paycheck on kitten toys, food and accessories, that was his business.

It was his job to spoil his child, after all.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

[villainessxassassin]

@ iliveinthefandoms asked: Hello there! Can I request for twisted wonderland Malleus, Kliam, Ruggie, Vil, and finally Leona (separately please) for a fluff scenario with a female S/O who’s usually easy going, sweet, and has the patience of a saint finaly broke when grim over did it with his fire in a unnecessary fight that made a big mess and with a calm face she talks to grim with a deep calm voice practically having the power of a thousand angry queens/mothers like:

“grim get over here NOW”

“B-but”

“No buts or ifs your GOING to go to your room and be GROUNDED from the high grade tuna AND your going to clean up ALL the mess you’ve made got it?”

“W-w-well-”

“WHAT did I just say?”

“Y-yes M-M-C so-rry Mc 😢”

and turns and quickly walking away with a scared grim just apologizing cus he didn’t want to be grounded. Basically MC unleashed her inner girl boss queen rage on grim, Infront of the boys for the first time.

Listen Tsunotaro here adores your easy going personality, that’s one of the reason he simps loves you.

So imagine his surprise when he witnessed you scolding Grim.

Safe to say he was stunned on the fact that you still have that calmness in your voice despite the menacing aura he sensed behind you.

Grim, get over here right now :))

Yeah he can see how very angry you were at your companion.

Oh well he just found another reason to simp love you more.

Does he feel sorry for Grim? Maybe-

He wonders what kind of things you’ve been keeping to yourself.

You wouldn’t mind showing him more of this side of you right child of man?~

Kalim was happy that he was able to have someone like you.

Not only were you a good listener, but you were also able to tolerate the many thing that even Jamil had trouble tolerating!

So seeing you have this other side of yourself really caught him off guard.

remind him not to get on your bad side, because if you were ever to scold him like you did grim he’d (probably) be crying himself to sleep.

he honestly felt sorry for grim while laughing sheepishly as you scolded the poor creature.

he’d make sure to sneak in a little bit of tuna for grim if u were actually serious about the “tuna banning” thing.

“Shishishishishi”

Ruggie’s reaction to your calm self scolding grim would be to one from shocked to snickering to himself.

He always found you kind of weird for always being calm with people when if he were to be in your situation he couldn’t imagine giving them that time of day.

or how despite the many shenanigans he’s caused throughout the entirety of his time in nrc you still had it in you to wait and be patient with him.

He was happy there was someone willing to be tolerant with his antics.

Of course that still doesn’t stop him from egging you on sometimes so he can see you loosing your cool again.

he just find’s it endearing is all <33

Oh? So his potato has this side to them huh~?

like Kalim he was also a little bit caught of guard. 

He was honestly impressed that you had high patience with Grim. The fact that when scolding grim you had a calm face and menacing aura

Seeing as you had high patience with grim, he wonders if it’s the same case with the adeuce duo.

Well if he would also witness you scolding the three braincell duo he’d certainly join you in scolding them as well.

As for now…. He decided to keep this little incident for himself.

Same for Ruggie except after you scold grim he had the biggest smirk? grin?

Whatever it was he seemed pleased with the way you carried yourself.

Before you got into a relationship he more or less thought of you as a pushover for always being calm and patient in situations that needed haste or just action needed.

but after realizing that wasn’t the case at all (and you were just a sweet angel), he quickly changed his thoughts and instead switched to admiring you for being this way.

he isn’t going to outright tell you that thought.

but from the way he looked so prideful at what you did said all you needed to hear.

notes:

Ngl we had fun writing this

Guinevere suffered on writing for Vil. 

Want a request to be submitted? Read the rules here to have it delivered.

#submission #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x mc #y/n #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader

[zuppizup]

Little Moments 1.0

She thinks he’s talking to himself at first, which isn’t unusual for him.

Or rather it wasn’t.

He used to mutter to himself while drawing or reading his big dusty books and she’d find herself sitting and watching him, laughing quietly if he got particularly animated.

And so she thinks it’s sweet he’s kept this endearing trait after two years, but then it turns out he’s actually talking to Bait and Stella.

Which is somehow sweeter and more endearing.

She hangs back in the hallway, peering around the corner as he chats to the two creatures. They are both perched on the camp kitchen table and it looks like he’s cutting up fruit for them. Janai has found a little pavilion for them to congregate in for the few days they will be staying at the Sunfire camp.

“Bait!” He whines when the glow toad slurps a piece of some bright pink fruit. “Seriously! Let me finish. I’m hungry too, you know?”

Bait croaks grumpily, pouting in an exaggerated fashion.

Stella takes advantage of Callum’s distraction, darting forward and snagging half a of large berry. She gives herself up with her happy chittering though and Callum turns to find her nibbling happily.

“Oi!” He puts his hands on his hips and looks at her pointedly. “You’re new, you know? I haven’t made up my mind about you yet and this thievery isn’t doing you any favours.”

Stella looks up at him with her big, sad eyes pondering for a moment and then offers him the remains of the half eaten berry.

“I don’t want that!” Callum turns up his lip, snorting. “I want you both to wait two minutes while I finish cutting this up. Can you do that? Can you do that for me please?!”

Stella looks at Bait and they seem to have a silent conversation before Bait huffs and groans and Stella plops onto her little bum. Simultaneously, they sigh, seeming to signal they will give him a moment to finish preparing the assorted fruits.

“Thank you.” Callum sighs, shaking his head as he goes back to cutting up fruit. “Now, I don’t really know what most of this is, but we’re just going to have to be adventurous, okay?” He looks between his companions. “Give everything a try and not just wolf down the sun melons… I’m looking at you, Bait.”

Bait grumbles, covering his eyes with his scaly front legs.

Callum snorts, and continues cutting. He plops the last of the fruit into a bowl and looks back at the animals. “Done!” He smiles brightly. “You guys are going to help me clean up, right?”

Stella twitters, jumping up and leaping onto his shoulder. Callum picks up the bowl and she grabs him around the neck with her tail, leaning forward to swipe at the pile of fruit.

“No! Stop!” Callum tries to shrug her off. “I’m not done done. Let me at least sit down!”

Stella ignores him, her little hands grabbing fruit and stuffing it into her face.

Seeing her lose her resolve spurs Bait into slow action. Grumbling a battle charge, he leaps from the table and begins pawing at Callum’s leg as Callum tries to fend Stella off and make his way to the chairs.

“Oi!” He hops around Bait, clutching the bowl. “Stop ganging up on me! Traitors! I didn’t even want to share this with you!”

Stella drops a large berry and before she can react, Bait catches it with his long tongue. She screeches loudly, dropping from Callum’s shoulder and landing on Bait’s head. Using all four of her arms, she attempts to pry his mouth open and retrieve her berry.

“Stella, no!” Callum drops to his knees, gently holding her back. “Here.” He holds out a large berry for her and she pouts for a moment before taking it. Seeing her appeased, Callum looks at Bait. “And you!” He narrows his eyes dramatically at Bait who looks away. “Don’t you tease her. She’s only a baby.”

Bait grumbles, eyes moving between Callum and Stella before he rolls his eyes and shrugs.

“Thanks Bait.” Callum grabs a large piece of sun melon and presents it to the little glow toad.

Bait’s eyes sparkle for a moment before he grabs the melon with his long tongue.

“Ew, gross.”

Callum sighs and it’s all too much. Rayla can no longer contain her giggles.

Jumping a little, Callum looks over his shoulder, blushing brightly to find her watching him. “Eh, hi.” He gets to his feet, still clutching the bowl. “You, em, been there long?”

“Long enough.” She hangs back in the pavilion entrance, waiting to gauge his reaction to her. “You doing okay there?”

“Well, I’m managing.” He smiles a little, looking between Stella and Bait. “It used to be hard enough stopping Bait stealing my lunch.”

She laughs softly. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

They wait in an awkward silence for a moment and she wonders if she should leave him to it.

“Em, you hungry?” He awkwardly holds the bowl out to her. “I’m not sure how much there will be but…” He nods at the fruit. “If you’re hungry…?”

They eat a pleasant lunch together, still that distance between them but less than yesterday and that less than the day before.

And he smiles at Stella as she begins to fall asleep, tummy full and looking content. Bait is napping in her lap and perhaps they don’t have to sit in silence to let the animals sleep but they do and for once it’s not awkward. It’s pleasant.

And when she looks at him and hazards a small smile… well, he smiles back.

Continued: Little Moments 2.0

Also on AO3: Little Moments

#Stella is only mildly evil in this ficlet #rayllum #rayllum fanfic #rayla #callum #the dragon prince #tdp #tdp fanfic #the dragon prince fanfic #rayla x callum #callum x rayla #tdp spoilers #tdp season 4 spoilers #zuppi fanfic #fic: little moments

[moodymisty]

✗ ERROR 158 ✗

Author's Note: Some fluff between the smuts and what is more than likely going to be the first part of an ongoing series of loosely tied together Echo one shots because I love him and have zero self control. The planet in this is loosely inspired by the CCSD footage for season 2.

Summary: Omega decides to play matchmaker.

Relationships: Tbb!Echo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really, other than Omega being a little devil and some fluff

Word count: 2227

Echo had spent time on planets of pretty much every common climate one could think of. Though out of them all, tropical planets would have to be his personal favorite. He never had the time to enjoy it when he was part of GAR, but now that he did...

The sound of water hitting against the beach, rustling of tropical plants in the wind, and that fresh smell of seawater. It was pleasant, unlike the constant pouring rain and storming he’d gotten so used to on Kamino. Part of him had considered taking a dip in the ocean, though he wasn’t quite sure how exactly his menagerie of cybernetics would react to the salinity in the water.

They also had far more important things to do than trot around like this was some sort of vacation, even though he’d caught both you and Omega dipping your feet in the water twice already. Tech had scolded the two of you saying there was multiple carnivorous creatures in the water of the planet and to get out, though you were both pretty sure he was just upset you were just taking a break.

Echo had actually just spotted the two of you quickly drying off your legs and admiring some shells you’d both picked up, and Echo decided to keep quiet and help you avoid Tech’s ire. Hunter is fixing one of their blasters while Wrecker is attempting to bench increasingly heavier and heavier crates. Meanwhile Tech is working on a personal project, while also looking over whatever study material he’d given Omega awhile back.

Overall things just feel, nice.

For at least five minutes it doesn’t feel like everyone is hot on their heels, trying to gun them down the minute they have the chance. Echo is just relishing in the time to just breathe.

At least until you’re no longer the one keeping Omega entertained, and she wanders her way to him while he’s halfway underneath the Marauder’s control panel in the cockpit. She peers around attempting to see what he’s doing, and Echo takes a glance to see her standing there. The bottoms of her trousers are wet, from where the waves lapped higher than expected.

“Has the ‘carnivorous wildlife’ decided to take a chunk out of either of you yet?” Omega rolls her eyes, remembering when Tech had said that not long ago.

“We didn’t see anything, I don’t get what he’s so worried about.” Echo adjusts underneath the control panel.

“You two better hope there’s nothing, or that’ll be one awful ‘I told you so’.” Echo can’t help but laugh at his own little joke, before watching the way Omega shows off one of the shells she’d found on the beach. She pulls out another you’d found and given to her, admiring the way the opalescence shines on the inside of the shell. Omega had lived pretty much every moment of her life stuck in a lab on Kamino, and still found so many things exciting and brand new. You enjoy doing those things with her, and Echo finds it endearing.

“That’s what she said, but I don’t really think she believes Tech either.” Omega puts the shells back in her pockets and watches the way Echo had quite visibly perked at your mention. If he was interested before, he very much was now that you were part of the conversation. It’s hard for him to help himself from doing, even as he attempts to busy himself with working on this mess of wires.

“You know,”

Omega’s rocking back and forth on her heels, hands behind her back while wearing a curious and hopeful expression. Echo hums in acknowledgment of her, but she doesn’t have his full attention yet.

“She really likes you...”

Echo crooks his torso to the side and looks out from underneath the control panel and gives Omega an almost sympathetic look.

“Yeah, she’s nice.”

The sentence is short, but he means no snide undertone to it. You were nice; Nice to all of them, all the clones before everything happened, to him. Even after Skako Minor when he’d scared the life out of you with the way he looked so different. Nice to all of them after they’d dragged you into this mess, someone who wasn’t even part of GAR to begin with. Omega however seems displeased anyways, and her knowing smile goes away replaced with a furrowed brow.

“No, not like that,” Echo turned away to work on the ship, though he does give her a glance from the corner of his eyes that reads unimpressed and a bit suspicious.

“I mean, she likes you.”

Omega emphasizes and leans in closer, though once again fails to get Echo to give her anything but yet another shake of his head.

“She’s just nice, you’re reading too deep into it.” She’s a kid, Echo just figures she’d managed to watch a cringey holodrama for teens on the net in their few moments of downtime and now has all these silly ideas in her head. Meanwhile Omega crosses her arms and looks over her shoulder. You’re talking to Wrecker, and with him being so loud you’re completely distracted.

“I know that she draws a lot of art when we’re in hyperspace,” Omega takes a cautious step closer so she can be quieter, meanwhile Echo adjusts to try and get a better angle on whatever he’s fixing. There’s a cord deep inside the control panel he needs to get to, but it requires him to really reach inside...

“I saw what she’s been making; Most of them are of you.”

WHAM!

Finally, now she has Echo’s interest. Almost too much of it however, as Echo suddenly knocks his head into the underside of the control panel with a grunt of pain. Omega looks almost concerned for a moment, before Echo asks:

“She does?”

The pain hasn’t even faded from his forehead, but he’s far more interested in this. He can’t help it; Can’t help the weak spot he has for you, and the way his heart slammed against his chest at the idea that you’d been watching and drawing him when he hadn’t been paying attention. How you found anything inspirational about him he had nary a guess, but in a way that is so hopelessly love struck he can’t say he minds in the slightest.

“Yeah, when we were walking on the beach yesterday she was talking about how she really likes you and that-” Echo turns to try and look at her more face on, even if he’s still on his back. He just hopes that his face doesn’t visibly show how surprisingly warm it feels on his cheeks.

“Omega… If she told you something in confidence-” She quickly moves her hands to shush him. He feels he makes the right choice in telling her to not gossip, but Echo can’t help but really want to know what you’d said.

“I didn’t say anything! I was just, telling you that she makes a lot of nice art.” She’s clearly hiding a smile, even if she’s attempting to hold a stoic face.

And while Echo thinks he probably shouldn’t be, he can’t help but feel his heart race a little faster a the idea that you might maybe like him. But that’s something he’s thought for awhile, long before they’d ended up here.

Omega seems to use his silence as the perfect time to leave, trying to find something to maintain her curiosity now that she’s dropped this heavy tidbit of information onto him.

Echo silently gets back to work, letting out a long but quiet sigh. There’s so many things to get done, and he hasn’t the time to think about silly things. As he does so he takes note of the peaceful quiet in the ship, though there is sound not long after.

There’s footsteps coming closer, and he can tell by the pattern that it’s more than likely you. Your voice speaking up affirms the suspicion, and also increases his heart rate dramatically.

“You two have a good chat?” Echo reaches for another tool with his good hand and hums, seeing your legs standing beside his own. You soon decide to sit down, cross-legged beside his knees now more at face level for him.

“Yeah, just told her to watch out for the carnivorous wildlife.” If he was anticipating the sentence to get a reaction out of you he succeeded; Watching your face and seeing the way you sigh and rub your hands against your face and groan.

“Ok, if one more person mentions this I swear I will actually go insane. The one in a million chance of getting wounded by a rogue carnivorous fish has become the hot topic of this ship for far too long.”

He laughs at the way you clearly seem to be at your wits end when it comes to that whole thing, and you both stop talking for a moment until Echo does finally speak back up. It takes him a moment to find the way he wants to word this, and hoping it doesn’t come out completely love struck.

“She uh, did tell me something.”

You hum, perking up a little as you look at him. He stops working on what he’d been doing for a moment, pulling out from underneath the control panel to sit up and look you more head on. There’s a little bit of something, probably lubricant, on the side of his cheek that he hadn’t noticed yet.

“She said that you, were making art of me.” he says, and your face instantly starts feeling boiling hot.

Echo was never supposed to find out about that! It was just some dumb thing you’d been doing to pass the tons of boring time in hyperspace, and that you’d probably delete and pretend never existed. They were a sign of your hopelessly bleeding heart and feelings, and not something that Echo was ever supposed to hear. Though the absolute embarrassment you let out a tense breath of air through your nose.

“I swear, that little-” You cover your mouth with your hand, feeling more than a little bit embarrassed. Part of you wants to just run, but you’d have to come back here anyways, you couldn’t just become one with the wilds.

You’d just, casually mentioned it to Omega, and in that moment had completely forgotten that she might end up telling him. The way Echo had said it sounded like you were a creep staring at the back of his head non-stop, which was exactly the opposite of what you wanted to be to him. You’re so stuck reeling in your own embarrassment you almost don’t hear Echo speak again.

“That was stupid I really shouldn’t have said that-” You’re shaking your head and hands, squeezing your eyes shut and sighing.

“No no it’s fine just, Maker now you probably think I’m creepy or somethin-”

“No!” His sudden outburst startles you, enough so that he quickly backtracks.

“I mean, no. I don’t find it creepy. I think it’s kind of flattering, actually. Didn’t think I was anything worth doing art of.” It’s nice to hear that he doesn’t think you’re weird, but his self-deprecating attitude is a little concerning.

“I think you are.” You say, voice quieter than it had been earlier. Echo laughs, rubbing the area when his skin meets his scomp link attachment.

“Well, you’re the first then.”

He’s smiling at you, and you can’t help but smile back even as your face grows hot. You’ve always had a bit of a crush on Echo, ever since you first met him, so you can’t help but feel your heart flip in your chest.

Interrupting your moment is the distant sound of Omega’s voice, demanding someone to ‘keep out’. Her plea seems to go largely unanswered however, as both Hunter and Tech push by her anyways, and see you and Echo sitting on the floor in the cockpit. Tech is just here to grab something and leave, meanwhile Hunter lingers.

“Up to something in here? Omega was really keen on keeping us all out.” You were going to scold that girl for sure, but also sneak her a high five for letting you get this moment alone with Echo.

“Oh, us? Nah we’re not up to anything.”

Hunter doesn’t seem to be entirely convinced, but lets the topic drop. You turn back to Echo and smile, covering your mouth as you try not to let out a laugh. Once Hunter leaves you both alone again, you move to get onto your knees but not leave quite yet.

“I’ll go help them and leave you with, whatever you’re working on down there.” Echo partly doesn’t even remember what he had been doing; Most of the time he’d been too distracted by the thought of you.

Before you move to get back to your feet you lean inward, putting one hand on Echo’s shoulder and leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. It’s afterward you quickly get up and scurry away, leaving Echo alone again.

Echo swears he can still feel your soft lips on his cheek, even know he logically knows it isn’t the case. His throat his tight and he swallows, laying back down to try and get back to work.

Echo was already having enough trouble trying to keep his head on straight but now? Knowing that you felt the same as him?

#just needed to write some fluff because I’ve been feeling pretty bad lately /rip #mywriting #tbb x reader #reader insert #the bad batch x reader #echo x reader #Echo/Reader #tbb echo x reader #reader

[racfoam]

Can I have like a talk between voldemort and his future child with Harriet whether it's a boy or girl pls pls pls

You all really want spoilers... -.-

But who am I to deny! :D

I still don’t have any names, but here you go, anon

--------

Lord Voldemort was usually a master of hide and seek. However, he was starting to worry he lost his seven-year-old daughter and that if he did not locate her soon, his daughter would find trouble sooner or later. She was his daughter, after all.

Do not let the adorable face fool you. His daughter has the makings of a great witch with how cunning she was. Usually, he was proud of her for it, but today, he was not very amused.

He looked everywhere in the house, which meant the little princess had most probably jumped out the window — because he did not hear the door open and close when he counted to ten — and fled into the garden full of flowers. It was its own small forest, the garden Harriet grew and planted.

“Papa!” yelled a tiny, young voice, and Voldemort immediately drew his wand upon the urgency in his daughter's voice, “Help!”

Voldemort found the seven-year-old girl squatted beside a bush, hissing quietly. Upon closer inspection, Voldemort noted she was speaking to a small hognose snake. The snake was injured, its tail was missing. It was coiled in on itself, its head raised, its jaw open, hissing at his daughter, glaring at her, all its scales rising up.

“It won't let me help it,” said the girl, scowling in a very similar way to how Voldemort used to in his youth. The resemblance was rather uncanny to him. “It keeps snapping at me.”

“It’s injured, so it thinks you’re a predator. You’re very big and it is very small. It’s gone onto the defensive.” said Voldemort.

The girl’s lips pressed together, her dark eyes sparkling with tears. Now, his daughter looked exactly like a tiny version of Harriet, ready to cry.

“I can heal it from here,” said Voldemort. His daughter's dark eyes lit up hopefully. “If you keep its attention on you. If it senses another presence, it will flee and bleed out.”

His daughter lit up, grinning. She nodded, determined. She squatted back down while Voldemort moved away, to the side, to sneak up on the snake’s side. His daughter did as told, talking to the snake, keeping its attention on her.

Close enough at last, Voldemort cast the healing charm on the serpent. Its tail regrew on its own, the wound closing completely. The snake startled, then looked down upon its tail.

Voldemort paced back to his daughter.

“What happened to you?” hissed Voldemort softly.

“It wasss my humans...” the snake replied; its voice sounded young, more feminine than male. It was clear it was a female hatchling. “They threw me out of the box... And then a flying creature took my tail...”

His daughter frowned. She turned to Voldemort, clearly confused by the idea someone would throw a snake away.

“Why did they throw her away?” she asked.

“Most people don't understand snakes.” said Voldemort.

“But not us,” his daughter hissed softly, her dark eyes staring back calmly at his. She gave Voldemort a toothy smile.

Voldemort smiled.

“Not us.” he agreed softly, watching as the hognose curled atop his daughter's palm, apparently happy to stay there for a while.

This time, when his daughter gently encouraged the snake, the little one slithered right around her extended hand, settling itself on her palm. She had gained her trust.

As Voldemort watched the small hognose wrap itself around his daughter’s tiny fingers, he could not help but be reminded of a moment he shared with Harry.

“I once showed your mother a hognose snake,” said Voldemort. “It was white, with red eyes.”

“Like papa!” his daughter chirped, smiling. “What did mummy say when papa showed it?”

“She said: ‘How can't you love such an adorable face?’”

His daughter giggled, a sweet sound. “Mummy called papa adorable.”

“It was the snake she called endearing,” said Voldemort.

“No,” said his daughter without hesitation, eyes full of conviction. She looked very serious. “Mummy called papa adorable.”

Voldemort felt a smile curl his lips. He had not been paying much attention in that moment, staring at Harry's face and smile instead.

“I suppose she did," he said, delighted by the realization.

“Can we keep her?” his daughter asked, turning pleading eyes to Voldemort. It was a look he could never say no to.

Voldemort eyes the hognose. “Ask her first.”

“Do you want to stay with us?” his daughter asked the snake. “We have lots of snakes, and we all speak. And Nagini will take care of you.”

The light brown hognose looked with its dark eyes from Voldemort to his daughter. Then, she gave a single nod of her head, inclining her head downward.

His daughter beamed.

“Yes! Thanks, papa!” she yelled happily, and hugged Voldemort around the legs. His skeletal arms reached down, wrapping around the small girl, holding her close.

“I’m gonna show it to mummy!” said the girl, letting go of Voldemort.

Without wasting a second, the black-haired girl dashed back toward the house, yelling. “Mummy! Papa and I saved a hognose and it's staying with us now!”

Voldemort watched the girl go with a fond smile, then set down the garden path toward the house too, just as Harry opened the doors.

“Another!” yelled Harry cheerfully, hugging their daughter, lifting her up into her arms. Voldemort’s heart soared at the sight of mother and daughte. His stomach fluttered, like a duel was happening inside it.

“What’re you gonna name it?” asked Harry curiously.

“Athena!” declared their daughter. “Cus she fought off the bird like Athena!”

Harry laughed. To Voldemort, it was the most wonderful sound in the world.

Their daughter may have his eyes and the same hair colour he used to have, but her smile was Harry’s.

Voldemort reached his soulmate, nuzzled her head, winding his arms around her. Harry chuckled.

“What’re you grinning about?” she asked.

His red eyes glew. “Do you remember when I showed you that hognose?”

Harry blushed. Her green eyes shifted from his eyes and strayed across his face. She was nervous. Voldemort purred.

“You called me adorable,” he whispered against her ear, delighting in her shiver.

Before Harry could say anything — by the beetroot colour of her face, Voldemort was right — Voldemort lifted her chin with his fingers, cradling her face softly, and kissed her.

“Ewww!” said their daughter, reaching her fingers down to cover the hognose’s eyes, too.

With Harry's lips on his, Voldemort barely cared.

#harrymort #female harry potter #snippets #nynn

[baphomet-synopsis]

Blutedrache Chapter 1

On the Cliffs of Ol’Daveen, in depths of the Medusa Cascade, there sits the Aerie. Some claim that it is only a myth. Others, those who have been there, claim it is home to marvelous creatures, creatures who live in a rigid hierarchy, and eschew outsiders. On the first day of October, in the cosmic year of 2777, the first of the colonists from the Grand Imperium arrived. The entire colony vanished in a single night, and when investigators were sent, it looked like the colony hadn’t even been built. There were the supplies, and the beginning of buildings, the starting of fields, but not a single soul was to be found.

When the next set of colonists arrived, headquarters received a strange transmission. It said “Send no more, for there is no welcome here.” It was accompanied by a video of marvelous beings chasing the colonists into a canyon. Then it ended. The Grand Imperium sent the military to try to recover the colonists, but there was nothing to find. The canyon the colonists had been seen entering ended in a carved relief of a door.

The military tried to leave the planet, but their ships wouldn’t start, and they were quickly killed by a horde of ravenous creatures. This too was sent to the headquarters. It ended with a view of some creature picking up the transmitter and flying into the canyon, and through a shining door…this event was known as The Discovery, and it heralded the Imperium’s first diplomatic encounter with The Dragons. 

=<^. .^>=

Gulbair walked down the streets of Aerie, looking distinguished in his deep scarlet scales, and pitch black horns. His tail lashed as he thought deeply about his current predicament. The tiny flesh creatures moved respectfully out of his way. They were a joy to have around, even if they didn’t live nearly as long as his kind did. A hundred to a hundred and twenty years at most, and then they were gone. One in particular was very endearing to him. She was riding on his back, and bouncing and giggling as she pointed out the sights. He sighed, and turned his head to look at her. She was a mere hatchling, even by her people's standards. At the bright and luminous age of six she was a plump, happy, peppery child. Snorting softly in her face, she giggled and patted his nose.

“Where are we going Blutedrache?” she asked him

“To the conclave. We must decide what to do with you.”

The hatchling pouted and said “Why can’t I just stay with you?”

“Because I am unmated, and live alone, with neither sibling nor an oath sister to help raise you.” he told her shortly “Now, stop bouncing, you’re going to break my poor little back.”

She giggled, and pretended to pout, before settling down between his wings. He walked up the steps, recently recarved to accommodate the tiny creatures that now lived with them, and paused to acknowledge the guardians. The giant crystal dragons ignored him as always, and then he went inside. Settling down in the convex center, he picked up the child gently with his teeth, and set her down on the floor. She immediately curled up around one of his feet, and began to giggle incessantly at the Hilpsha that swarmed her, and began to demand attention.

Sitting down and looking about him, he watched as the other members of the Conclave began to enter. They were shooting him poisonous looks, and muttering to each other. He knew he wasn’t loved by most of the others, and didn’t care, but it did make things difficult when he was trying to get what he wanted. In this instance, he didn’t want to give up the hatchling, she had brightened up his gloomy dwelling. He had taken her in after her parents had been killed by the eaters, and none of the flesh creatures they had saved would take her in. Some of them even rudely pointed their tails at him, and made hissing noises. Pulling the child closer, he waited for the rudeness to stop. They didn’t need to act this way when there was a hatchling about.

At last the conclave had gathered, and the Drachemeister gathered them to order.

“We have gathered together to determine the fate of the child named Amy Rosenstein. Who makes bold to declare their answer?”

“I am.” it was the Silver Dragon, Endrasa “There is no cause to allow the hatchling to remain at the Blutdrache’s house. Indeed, it is offensable that the child should even be there.”

“Here, here!” came several replies 

“And I suppose one of you are willing to take her in?” Gulbaird replied angrily

There was much murmuring, but no one agreed. Everyone else had either full dwellings, or were too busy, or some other such nonsense.

Until the elder spoke “I propose this, let the child decide, and if she agrees to remain at the Blutdrache’s home, then let him find an oath sister, or a mate, or some female of the ‘humans’ to dwell with him to take charge of the child when the conclave demands his attention.”

“Well then child…” the Drachemeister said “where do you wish to go?”

The child, Amy, looked around then said “I want to stay with Bluty, he is funny.”

“So be it.” the Drachemeister said “The hatchling shall stay with Blutdrache. You have thirty days to find a helpmeet, or the council shall reconvene.”

The next night was dark and stormy, so Amy had curled up with him on his best cushion. She was whispering excitedly about all the fun things and her Hilpsha were going to do once the rain stopped, and the Hilpsha seemed excited. Gulbaird was trying to read to her from one of his books, and she would ask a couple of questions, then go back to her Hilpsha, which she had named Bubbles. Bubbles for its part would snuggle adorably with Amy, and then go prancing around the cushion. He was just about to put her to bed when there was a knock at his entrance. Groaning as he went to the door, he peered out into the darkness. Standing there, was a disheveled, dirty looking, soaking young woman. She was covered in bruises, and had several cuts on her flesh. She stood there, shivering, and looking about her.

“Enter freely and of your own volition.” he told her, pulling back the door.

She scurried about, just as there was shouting at the end of the lane. She flinched, and then came inside, just as the door closed. The hatchling had somehow gotten out of her bed and was watching all of this very carefully. She had a concerned look, as though she had seen the world and all its evils in this woman.

“Aunty Maeve?” the Hatchling asked, “I thought you didn’t want me.”

The woman gasped, and rushed forward, and picked up the hatchling and swung her around. “Of course I want you darling, it was my husband that didn’t want you.” she told the Hatchling “and my husband is a very bad man.”

“Does he hurt you?” the hatchling asked

“Very much.” the woman replied

Gulbaird the Blutdrache watched all this with great curiosity. It seemed that here was the answer to his conundrum. She could stay and watch the hatchling, and he would give her sanctuary in exchange. No male should ever abuse his mate in such a way. Bending his neck he sniffed at her, then blew a healing mist gently all over her. He watched in satisfaction as her injuries healed, and her stiffness, and pain vanished, when she turned and saw him so close, she let out a little whimper. Pulling his head back he snorted and settled back down on his cushion with a little groan.

“Well, will you accept my offer?” he asked the woman “I will give you sanctuary, and in exchange you shall watch and care for the hatchling when the conclave demands my attention.”

The woman paused, then said “Nothing would make me happier.” she told him “You see, I am barren, and my husband wished for children. I see now, that it is a blessing for me and my womb that I am, for he would have made a terrible father.”

“It is always a sorrowful thing when a woman cannot conceive.” Gulbaird said “However, it is also a blessing, for it leaves the female to stand as mother for those who have none. Give me your husband’s name, and I shall seal my door against him.”

“That is something dragons can do?” she asked 

“No, Only we Blutdrache are capable of such things.” he replied

“Very well, my husband is named Viktor Hessinfar.” she said

Gulbaird went to the door, and with much muttering and groaning, he sealed his door and threshold against the woman’s mate. Then, hearing the rumbling of two stomachs, he smiled.

“Come, we must feed the hatchling and yourself, it is always easier to sleep on a full stomach.” he told them “Come along Bumychsh, we must have dinner.”

The hatchling smiled and laughed “My name isn’t Bumychsh funny, my name is Amy!”

“I am well aware, Bumychsh. Now come, we must feed your aunty.”

#original content #dragons #sci fi fantasy #humans are space orcs

[honeywitchers]

Washed Away

A/N:  This is from another one of my blogs that I decided to seperate my Witcher content from.  I plan on deleting the original from that blog so if you have seen this before under a different name I promise I didn’t steal the story!

Pairing: Netflix!Lambert x Fem!Reader

Content and Warnings:  Fem!Reader, no use of Y/N, term of endearment “Dove” is used, established marriage, strong language it’s Lambert come on

Word Count:  1,755

Summary:  While Lambert is ventured out on a hunt, his wife becomes trapped in their leaky cottage due to terrible flooding.

The cottage you and Lambert shared was nothing to be impressed by.  It was small, creaky, leaky, and the wooden floors often came with a high risk of splinters.  On the days it rained, you spent most of your time finding spare buckets and other random containers to place underneath the spots in the roof that allowed rainfall to pass through freely.  

On the days it was sunny and breezy, you forgot everything that was really wrong with your home, enjoying the natural breeze squeezing through the cracks to cool off you and your three month old Irish wolfhound pup, who your beloved Lambert brought home after a particularly long hunt.  He claimed that the pup refused to leave his side after he found her owner dead, unlucky enough to have been killed by an Alghoul.  Even after he left the desecrated village, the small puppy continued to follow him.  Now, she was the innocent loving little creature who kept you company while Lambert was out on hunts.  She made you feel less alone and made it easier to cope with his absence.  

Today was a time where the thick droplets of rain were invading your home. Buckets you found inside of the horse barn behind your cottage littered the floors throughout the living room and kitchen.  Your puppy, Blair, investigated each and every bucket with her nose, nudging each one as she sniffed them. Her ears perked up from the sounds of the water splashing up from the filled pool of water and hitting the sides of the metallic containers.  You were worried about water damage and if your struggling home would hold up, and Blair was having the time of her life.  What a playful pup she was.

“Maybe when Lambchop returns home, he’ll see if he can fix some of these holes in the roof….whaddya think, girl?”  You spoke to Blair, bending over to lightly scratch the top of her head, smiling as she squeaked in delight.  Your hand proved to be more interesting than the bucket now.

As soon as you moved your hand away from petting her, she returned to sniffing the buckets, her curiosity once again taking over.  You stood up with a huff, looking around your home, truly taking in how subpar the interior was at the moment.  You swore if you took a wrong step, your foot would go straight through the beaten down and rotted floorboards.  With this somewhat heavy rain, you weren’t sure how much longer the roof was going to hold.  All you could do was think about how badly you wished for Lambert to come back soon.  The lack of his presence made you feel uneasy.

The rainy day came and went, the next few turning out to be just the same.  A seemingly never ending rain was now beginning to swiftly flood the path leading up to your shared cottage.  If the water rose any higher over the next couple of days, you and your helpless pup were going to be trapped.  

Lambert’s hunting expeditions were extremely unpredictable, so you were never quite sure when he would return home….or if he would return.  Still, you found yourself peeking out the half unhinged front door to the cottage twice every hour, hoping to see his chestnut colored horse, Seraphina, who he affectionately named due to her fiery personality.  To your dismay, each peek came with nothing but disappointment.  Only rising rain waters and strong gusts of wind threatened you from the unforgiving outdoors.  

The following night, you decided you were going to give your most desperate attempt at bringing Lambert home sooner.  You brought Blair into your bedroom and closed the door behind you, trying to keep her away from the flood waters that had inched their way inside of the cottage and leaked halfway out into your living room.  She whined in protest when you picked her up originally but quickly found comfort and peace curled up at the end of your bed.  Seeing this made you wish you could find the same amount of bliss without Lambert filling one side of the bed.  You didn’t know what else to do.  Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes as you knelt down onto the rough floor, leaning your elbows on the edge of the mattress.  You began to pray to the gods.  You prayed for his faster return, his safe return, and you prayed that the gods would listen in the first place.  When you were done, you still felt an uncomfortable emptiness.  He still was not home and rainwater still threatened the already questionable stability of your home.  How were you going to get yourself through this?

Morning came as slowly as it ever had, you spending most of the night lying awake and waiting for the water to inevitably reach your bedroom.  This time, however, as dawn appeared, rays of sunshine appeared with it.  The warmth of the light felt almost unfamiliar after days of cold and wet fear.  Using the light to your advantage, you glanced down to check the state of your bedroom floor. Sure enough, to your horror, the water beneath you was slowly lapping at the edge of your bed.  You awoke Blair from her unaware slumber, clutching her close to you.  Rather than the rain and flooding soaking her fur, your tears were doing the job just as well.  

You were out of hope.  Your will was slowly and painfully being drowned under the relentless and unforgiving waters.  The front of your cottage was surely lost, furniture and food with it.  There were no other horses residing in the barn, as you weren’t typically one for adventure and travel, contrasting the man you had fallen in love with.  Clothes that usually had their place in the homemade trunk in the corner of your bedroom were now floating on the surface of the murky cold waters mixing with the mud and grit on the ground.  You had nothing but Blair, and nowhere to go.  Nowhere to escape.

“Dove?!?”

You lifted your sunken head and wiped some of the tears staining your face. Were you hearing things?  Was that a voice, or the gods taunting you?

“Dove?!?  You in here?  Son of a bitch, you better be alive in here, woman!”  

No.  You knew that voice.  That voice was warmth.

“Lambert??”  You called out, your voice hoarse and trembling.  “Lambert, is that you?!?”

“Yes, it’s me!  What in the ever living fuck are you still doing here?”  Lambert’s voice was getting closer, the sounds of heavy sloshing water accompanying it.

“Where was I gonna go, Lamb, you’ve got Seraphina with you!  I can’t exactly ride Blair out into the woods!”  Blair started to lick your face as you spoke.

“Shit, shit, for FUCK’S SAKE!  I’m coming!”

You let out a sigh of relief.  Your rugged off roading husband was on his way to you and your sweet pup.

“Wait, are you trudging through the water and mud?”  

“Ah, not exactly, dove.  Think my trousers would be torn to shreds in this thick shit.”  Lambert answered, his voice sounding like he was merely inches away from the bedroom door.

Then you heard it.  A loud but quick neighing came from outside the door.  The gods certainly couldn’t be playing a joke on you now.

“Lamb….my love….did you bring your horse into the house?”

“Well, how else was I gonna carry you out of here?  I’m just thinkin’ smart!  Seraphina’s a lot taller than I am, Dove.”

You rolled your eyes at your self proclaimed genius of a husband, although still more than thankful that he was there to rescue you.  Just a moment later, your bedroom door slowly creaked open, resisting against the rising water.  

“Holy shit.”  Lambert cussed.

He eyed the water that was starting to rise above the edge of the mattress you were huddled on, thinly coating the bottom of Blair’s paws.  The hem of the silken nightgown on your figure was beginning to flow with the water.

“Alright, let’s go before you turn into a Drowner.  I’m not into that.”

“Lambert, you find humor in the weirdest things, you know.”

Lambert shrugged his shoulders and reached down to grab Blair as you held her up in the air, wanting to keep her safe before yourself.  After the pup was seated on his lap, he reached into a pouch on the side of Seraphina’s saddle and pulled out a leather strap with a buckle on it.  

“Hold still, ya little shit.”  Lambert scolded as he tried to prop up Blair against his chest.  As soon as she calmed down more and lessened her wiggling, he gently wrapped the strap around himself and the confused puppy, locking the buckle in place to create a secure holder for her.  “Arms up, Dove.”

You stood and balanced yourself using the posts to the headboard on the now soaked bed, reaching your arms out to meet Lambert’s.

“Jump!”  Lambert ordered.

You did as he said without question and jumped up, your landing being supported by his weight.  You didn’t quite make it to the top of Seraphina’s saddle, your feet submerging and dragging through the opaque water. 

“Son of a bitch!”  Lambert grunted as he caught your body, using his upper strength to lift you up the rest of the way.

 After you shifted yourself to properly sit on the horse, he directed her out of the bedroom, into the living room, and out of the cottage.  The water was so deep and caked in layers of mud that the sound of Seraphina’s hooves were seemingly mute. 

“Lamb….where are we gonna go?”

A heavy silence filled the air.

“The flood just took our home….we have nothing.”  You continued, your voice cracking.

“Not to be a sappy shit but, Dove, you’re my home.  Wherever we go, I’ll be home as long as I’ve got ya’.”

You leaned forward to rest your cheek on your husband’s back.  Just moments ago, you were fearing for your life and wondering if your grave was going to be the dark and cold depths of the floods, afraid that your precious pup was going to share the same fate.  Now, you were atop your love’s prized horse off to find another home, snuggled into his back, with Blair strapped in safely against his front like she were a human child.  You knew he loved that pup, and there was nothing he could say now to convince you otherwise.

#witcher #lambert witcher #lambert x reader #witcher imagine #lambert imagine #witcher fic #lambert fic #netflix witcher #netflix lambert

[pattysplaceofplaces]

Could you do mythical reader x Yandere Momo

Potted Plant

Yan Momo x Mythical Reader 

[Author’s Note: Reader is gn since I wasn’t given a specific gender

Also you didn’t specify if you wanted a hc or a drabble, please be more specific next time 

You didn’t specify what kind of mythical creature so I decided to have a little fun with this. I wasn’t expecting to get my first request so soon but it’s exciting! I hope it is liked!]

Tw: Yandere behavior, abduction.

     The outsiders made it and it was everything they dreamed about. Looking at dirtied photos, postcards, and murals were no more. They could feel the breeze, the sunshine on their frames, and see four legged creatures big and small hide in the overgrown greenery. There was always something new to find in every expedition.

Then they found you, with vines like hair and little stems and flowers that bloomed from a layer of your body. They were curious about you and you were curious about them. 

You allowed Doc to do some research on you which helped you figure out more about your own species. You were some a descendant of some sort of carnivorous plant although by the time your species most likely finished evolution humans were already long gone and the bots hidden away. You were grateful for the “Outsiders” as they called themselves. Your favorite had to be Clementine, she already had a vast knowledge of plant life which you were grateful for. Zbaltzar was someone you could go to when Clementine was too much. He enjoyed meditating and self reflection as much as you did, especially when both of you could get outside and soak up some sunlight. 

Then there was Momo: Peculiar, but in an endearing way. He was very colorful like the flowers that bloomed on your skin and vines. He was awkward and always fidgeting with his hands which was something you didn’t think bots could do but it was cute. Because you hung out with the Outsiders frequently you also hung out with him. Conversations between the two of you felt forced but you didn’t want to leave him out of the conversation! 

Then those awkward silences and small talk seemed to melt away. Momo always found ways to make you laugh. While you lounged in a small pond he’d be sitting at the edge talking with you. Soon enough you two began hanging out together without the others, usually with him leaving the slums. You didn’t favor a place without sunlight. Yet he never seemed to mind, as a species of plant origin you were very difficult when it came to your conditions. It was so easy for you to wilt, dehydrate, freeze, and overheat. Momo never seemed to get annoyed about how firm you were about never going down to the slums. There was always a kindness behind his words. Who could have known of his true nature.

And now you were here: locked away in his dingy house with barely any sunlight. When he confessed to you, you should have pitied him and accepted his confession. Maybe you should have ran the first instant you saw the bots. You hated it here. You hated the harsh neon lights, the cold air, the damp smell, and the artificial light. The ends of your vines were fading in color as well curling in on themselves and the flowers that were once so healthy were wilted with petals littering the floor. You body must have been in sync with your mind because large thorns took the place of the flowers you once had. Yet they weren’t strong enough to puncture through metal.  

You sat next to the window, soaking up as much light as you could. You hated this. You hated how Momo acted. When he abducted you there was no sort of sympathy, not when he yanked you back to him by your vines and threw you so harshly in his flat. Only to then be the sweet Momo you knew just a couple of hours later. He manipulated you into feeling bad that you were a hostage. Whether he meant it or not didn’t matter. You couldn’t handle him being your only source of social interaction.

You thought maybe if you played along, pretended you loved him he would let you outside but he only shook his head. It made sense you supposed, you were missing with almost all the outsiders unknowing of your whereabouts. So if you were to show up again out of nowhere it would be suspicious. 

You could never forgive Momo.

You jumped back in alarm when you heard a quiet thump against the window. Were you seeing things? You had to be. You rubbed your eyes yet the orange tabby was still there, its emerald eyes glistened with an intelligence you’ve never seen in a four legged creature.

With haste you stood up and looked around frantically. Momo could be back at anytime you needed to be quick. You wouldn’t be able to escape through the window but maybe you could send a signal. You needed to be careful, you couldn’t break the window because if Momo came home and saw that the restrictions would worsen. 

Once you found a piece of paper and a pencil you began to write. 

‘SEND HELP TO MOMOS APARTMENT IM TRAPPED HERE’ 

As you went to sign your name you heard the front door creak open. Your body moved on it’s own without any recognition from your mind. You slipped the paper through the cracked window and watched the cat sprint off with the note securely in its mouth. 

The little kitty was your last hope. 

#Tw yandere #yanderes are not cool irl #Stray game x reader #Stray Momo x reader #Yandere stray Momo x reader #Sorry

[nejackdaw]

Now That You've Lost Tomorrow (is yesterday still a friend?)

4.2k words of the Celann backstory in my head

Under the cut for length; not NSFW. Also leave my Jimminy Cricket ass alone, I was thinking about Disney narrators when I started this lmao. It wasn't supposed to be an actual piece send help

Ahem. (Tw animal death) (tw gore)

Born in the Northmoor of Breton High Rock, Celann aged to be a fine man. With a lively, happy home, he was a handsome, good natured jokester with a penchant for bringing smiles wherever he went. Be it through mischief at home, exaggerated peacocking (resulting in clumsy accidents) in front of his beloved fiancee, charitable work through the town, or the song on his lips, he was an easygoing presence that had endeared himself to the people around him. Life was good and grand: he had an easy, do nothing guard job in a happy little town to bring in coin, plans to settle down and start a family, and wanted for nothing between it all. But things started to change when his elder sister prepared to set off on her apprenticeship–dark winds blew in that he, and all of them, would never recover from.

It was an adjustment for everyone with Jehanne recently absent; she'd been gone only a week, but the absence of fabric scraps and 'come look at this for me's, the messily kept tomes and quills that dripped ink, the prospect of not hearing another "you're being ridiculous, it's been weeks! Come join us for dinner!" and her high pitched, victorious cackles as she raced away, knowing she'd magically cleared up everyone's schedules by asking–she'd only been gone a week, but it felt an awfully lot longer than that. Celann kept up with his guard work in her absence and Charlotte, ever interested in his sister's seamstress and design work, had taken up the hobby when she wasn't keeping the ledger at Garnier's, insisting someone had to be leaving fabric in a house somewhere in Jehanne's absence–to balance things out, obviously, as all good magic is supposed to be.

Time passed this way for another week or so as everyone tried to reassure themselves that everything was fine; it was a large change, but they'd known for months, and they'll settle into this new normal soon and everything would be fine. But suddenly news came whispering through the streets of strange shadows passing by windows at night, shadows with no one to cast them, and soon enough the guards were being asked to look out for missing pets, small cats and birds that must have gotten loose.

Small cats and birds that were found far from their homes and butchered, torn apart but not eaten.

An uneasiness settled over the town as more and more of the creatures turned up, and "killer" was on everyone's lips. After a few weeks of disappearances and gory resurfaces, they began tapering off until they stopped entirely. Like any predator: from small prey to large–the guards instructed woodsmen and hunters, trappers and fur traders to keep an eye out in the woods for anything that didn't look like an animal had gotten to it first. It took only two days after the order was given for a horrified hunter to return with news of a torn, gaunt elk carcass, black with rot around the edges of the worst wounds. Next it was a boar, then a doe–then nothing once again.

Celann was tasked with joining patrols, increased in the wake of the animal attacks until investigators, who so far had found no leads towards what everyone assumed to be a fledgling serial killer, could find some hint as to what had been happening. Everyone waited anxiously for the inevitable first victim.

It came only a month after the shadow appeared.

Following loud, panicked shouts, Celann stumbled into an alleyway to find something hardly recognizable as human. It was pale, even for a corpse, and gaunt like the beasts had been–ripped apart and stained black at the edges, wounds rotting prematurely. He covered his mouth and looked away as he desperately fought against the thick, burning bile at the back of his throat, side stepping into a puddle of dried blood to let a more senior guard pass by.

When everything had been documented, after the corpse had been covered and the area sealed off–more for the townspeople's sake than the scene's–and they were given permission to leave, Celann headed immediately to the blacksmith, grateful for the harsh, painful way the smell and smoke of the forge cleaned the blood and rot from his lungs. He left with three sturdy daggers, weapons he grimly pressed into his family's hands as he made them swear to carry it with them. The protests died on all their lips when they saw the fear in his eyes, each taking it with the same gravity Celann presented it with and solemnly promising they would.

After only three days, there was another disappearance; another corpse, butchered and rotting unnaturally. He'd never possessed the same gift for magic most of his people did, but Celann knew enough–knew to fear the third and what it would bring, because there was no way this terror was only a man and threes were either a blessing or a curse. In the end, it was both.

When he stumbled on the third victim, it hardly occured to him that the man had anything at all to do with the last horrifying, supernatural month. He wasn't torn open like everything before, the ground wasn't coated in blood and viscera. He looked almost like someone who'd been lucky and gone in his sleep somehow–but when Celann knelt down to check if he was alive, he startled to see familiar jewelry and recognized the gaunt corpse of the book seller from around the block. His wedding band sat at an angle around a finger too small for the old, tarnished metal, and when Celann reached for his wrist to get a better look he touched something slimy and cold.

He distantly registered someone from the patrol calling out his name as he stared down at the red on his fingers, a steadily growing urge filling him with every beat of his heart to smear it off on the rough stones beneath him until his own blood ran hot and quick and erased the feeling forever. He clenched his fist instead–looked over at the boots beside him and pretended he hadn't just terrified himself as a second guard knelt with him to inspect the body.

It was Simon who found the most important thing the body had to tell them; Celann was busy wiping the blood off on his trousers and trying to get his mind working right again. A frantic tap on his shoulder got his attention and he looked up into Simon's wide, terrified eyes before slowly turning his head to see what he'd found. The gloved hand gripping the corpse's jaw slowly retreated, shaking, and Celann looked down to see two frighteningly neat holes at the side of the neck.

They shared a long, quiet look before Celann reached out again for the merchant's hand, praying desperately he didn't dig his fingers into disgustingly smooth, exposed flesh again as he avoided gripping the wrist to turn it around. Torn and bloodied, but the black edges were smaller this time. Cleaner, neater, less noticable.

They raced away burdened with news of a vampire preying on the town, searching desperately for the commander and whatever investigators they could find.

/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/

The city was placed under curfew immediately after the news arrived, and patrols were focused for the dark and evening hours. Everyone was required inside and with at least one companion; a vampire could easily overpower a pair, but the hope was that, with no lone targets, it would resent the effort it would take to target anyone else. Guards were similarly paired and ordered not to stray from one another–the only souls out in the night needed to be vigilant. Celann thought about the daggers he'd bought his family, thought about Charlotte taking Jehanne's room at home without him there in the night to share their bed. He wondered what good those knives would be, what good his sword would do him, if the beast got insistent.

Heavy tension hung over the town for weeks after the news arrived. Curtains were drawn and lights were left burning outside as people hoped the creature would pass them by. Every sound was investigated.

After a week, after two, after a month… there was nothing. No pets, no woodland beasts, no disappearances.

The dread started to lighten as time passed, and after four weeks of no new attacks, the townsfolk had, to a degree, returned to life as normal. They were still sure to make it home before night properly fell, still kept a light on, but as the days went by there seemed to be a collective feeling that it had all been a nightmare, some trick of Vaermina.

Celann noted three absences with every pass through the town.

Nightmares didn't claim lives, and he worried at how quickly everyone let themselves believe any danger had passed. The bookshop was closed for a week, what with the owner being dead; he and Lotte liked to buy each other occasional gifts from there, and the darkness in the windows–always warmly lit and welcoming before–never failed to stir a sense of dread in him.

But then a second month was passing without any sort of attack, patrols returned to normal, and even Celann let himself relax. With how often the beast had attacked before, there was no way it would sit and wait for months. The town had been on alert and anything it would have hunted locked inside, but even the forests nearby had been spared. It had surely moved on at this point to easier prey, or either fled in order to avoid detection, he reasoned.

That reasoning was why he accepted the promotion offered to him: an easy, quiet job out at the watchtower, not too far from town and coming with a pay increase; he'd be replacing someone who quit, understandably, in light of the vampire attacks while they had been happening. The new station was a bit of a trek from the gates, at the edge of the forest, but the road was usually quiet enough and the pay was enticing so he agreed. Fresh air, new faces–it sounded like a nice change of scenery, anyway.

It took a few mornings–early, dark, quiet–to adjust to all the rustling, and Perrette teased him for it, but they got on well and she explained their duties simply and easily. They arrive at midnight and they're relieved around breakfast, and spend their downtime chatting or pretending they weren't falling back asleep. Celann never bothered her when she did, and she returned the favor when he was half asleep, half awake, never quite able to properly sleep in the tower; it turns out to be a good thing he couldn't.

It was early, a week or so after he'd started, and he was tired; he'd been resting with his head pillowed on his arms at his desk, lost in that dark, semi conscious haze. There wasn't anyone out at this hour, with the moon still so high, and he paid no mind when he hadn't heard Perrette for what should have been a suspiciously long time. She was probably playing cards and he was just resting, after all, not falling asleep like his coworker did. If anything popped up they could handle it.

Just resting is why one eye opened blearily at a sound outside, a sound Celann had only half heard and had already forgotten by the time he was looking at candlelit paperwork. He kept it open a bit longer, listening for any other sounds, then let his eyes close again, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. Nothing, just the dark and the quiet–but as the seconds passed something settled heavy in his chest, had suspicion creeping into his head, and he sat up to look around.

Nothing. Just the dark and the quiet. He slowly stood from his chair and breathed deep, waking himself up as he glanced around the inside of the watchtower. Perrette wasn't at the window, there was no humming or the sound of cards, like he'd expected. The deck was, however, still out on the windowsill, game partially through, and when he moved closer he spotted a few that had blown outside. A familiar dread settled over him as he looked down at them, caught in flower stems and other growth that kept them from blowing farther away.

The moon was still high. Perrette was not here. She was not with the cards she carried in a little box as a gift from her lover, hand drawn with curling letters on the back. It was quiet. It was… unnaturally still, Celann realized. He stared out through the window at the road as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. He listened. Something moved in the undergrowth behind the station and he quietly crept his way to the–open–back door.

A black hare greeted him at the threshold, a bloody, mangled carcass with its white ribs exposed to the moonlight. The smell of rot hit him and his face twisted; his sword scraped against the sheath as he drew it.

Vampire.

Celann didn't know where Perrette was, what had happened to her, but he doubted the beast would leave a display if it wasn't waiting. It hadn't left. He stared out into the woods and swallowed, listening and hearing nothing. Nothing. His heart beat a terrified rhythm behind his ribs as he stepped outside, stepping carefully over the carcass and into the night, heading hesitantly for the woodline.

He'd hardly stepped through, heel snapping dead leaves and trampling plants–sound, something BURSTING forward, a scream–

He managed to put an arm between them, elbow digging into their chest, pain, hot, claws and yellow eyes. His heel slid back in the dirt as the creature strained against him, screaming and snarling and gnashing bloody teeth inches from his face. The hot smell of blood and decay hit him in the face and suddenly there was a fist in his hair, pulling painfully and jerking his head to the side–it vanished as soon as it appeared and Celann watched the vampire stumble back, face twisted in betrayal.

His own twisted to mirror it as he stared at the disfigured visage of his sister.

Jehanne.

She was clutching one of her hands as if injured, and he noticed a small, circular brand pressed into the heel of her palm. The shape of his earring, a small piece of silver resting by his jaw.

Those two moments stretched into forever then minutes suddenly blurred–claws, pain, BEGGING, being thrown, his shoulders slamming into a tree.

Celann blinked blood from his eyes and raised himself onto a shaking arm, catching his breath as he reached for his sword. He noticed she'd torn through his sleeves; the cloth was dark and sticky with blood, and he could feel the edge of his mouth throbbing, the skin around his lips torn open with a nasty downward swing of her claws. Jehanne was pacing agitatedly, glaring down at him and spitting to herself as he pushed himself to sit in the undergrowth. His head was throbbing dizzyingly, shoulders on fire from the impact, and he could feel something hot and wet snaking its way through the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Celann staggered to his feet, leaning against the tree for support, and let out a shuddering breath as he held his sword in front of him. Trying to evaluate.

She wasn't uninjured herself, not that it did him any good; he'd mangled one of her wrists and she'd still thrown him like a doll. He'd cut and sliced and stabbed and she was standing all the same, and they shared a mutual look of despair. Some mix of emotions flashed across her face, faintly illuminated by what moonlight breached the canopy, bright eyes wide as her lips were parting and she was clawing at her face, fangs glistening, then– "But we're family!" she wailed

The world went quiet.

Realization hit him, then. Cold blood. The world became the woman in front of him. He couldn't let her leave. Horror. Couldn't let her live. Agony. She'd kill them all. Kill her first.

He wondered how many times his sister must have crept past their windows, how many nights she must have watched him from the forest. Family. She'd kill him if it meant turning him, kill them all if he couldn't stop her.

Jehanne took a step forward and spread her arms invitingly, one wrist hanging at a sickening angle. Another step when he didn't immediately move, a sweet smile on her face, then lunged–steel and blood and pain and screams. He couldn't hesitate, couldn't go easy anymore. Blood flew from his blade as he drove it into her heart–vampires need to be stabbed in the heart–once, twice, a third time. He staggered back and tensed, waiting for her to somehow still be moving, dizzy with blood loss and buzzing with adrenaline.

He distantly watched her head slump against the ground, face half pressed into the dirt; glowing yellow eyes went dim and returned to a familiar brown. He watched, paradoxically, as she regained some color, despite being dead. Dead. He looked at glassy eyes and felt far away. Trees and green growth and blood splatters came back into view, but it was someone else's view, someone else's eyes. They laughed, whoever it was, desperate and manic, and dropped his sword as he stared at his sister's corpse. Something was screaming about it, somewhere inside him, but it was far away and muffled, a mile away.

Celann stumbled on suddenly weak legs towards the nearest tree and let himself collapse to the ground against it, staring at her face until it blurred. Everything blended together, and all he knew was that he was cold. He distantly remembered he was bleeding, but the thought vanished almost instantly into the gentle fog that was clouding his mind. He shivered, he thinks, and then thinks nothing else as he sits on the forest floor beneath the moon for hours.

He doesn't register Perrette stumbling out of the watchtower, only partially realizing she was yelling at him at all, even as she knelt beside him. He came back to himself when someone was snapping incessantly in his face, when irritation managed to stir him into some faint awareness. Simon was kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear as he gestured at the people around him. They descended upon him, quiet and gentle as they hauled him to his feet, and as he was half dragged, half helped back to town, all Celann really noticed was that it was morning. The sky was a pale, misty yellow–sunrise. Morning. The night was over. The night was over but he would live with what happened in the dark forever.

/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/

He had nightmares every time he managed to fall asleep, shepherded into the temple to be healed and watched over. Breathing was difficult and he assumed he was dying; he was only a little concerned at how okay with that he was. A stranger visited him on the third day after the Incident and the priestesses allowed her to feed him something from a vial, some liquid miracle that ended the worst of the night terrors and let him breathe easy.

There had been a newly made vampire den nearby, she explained when he woke again, and Jehanne had likely been taken the day she stepped out onto the road. Her voice was factual as she informed the temple they'd all been taken care of, but there was sympathy on her face as she looked down at the shadows under his half vacant eyes. She hunted vampires–and other deadra–she'd said as she left; there was something he didn't like in her tone, something knowing, as she closed the door behind her and told him she'd be staying in town for a month or two.

He was sent back home later that afternoon, back to he and Charlotte's house, but everything felt… strange. He felt like he was intruding on his own space, in his own house, in his own bed. Lotte was being patient, but the pain in her eyes when she looked at him sent a spike through his heart. Blood. Breaking bones. He supposed he deserved it after what he'd done, though even he could tell she very genuinely didn't think less of him for it. But she handled him gently and he missed her smiles, missed making her laugh. That solemn look didn't belong in her eyes.

His parents visited twice, to make sure he was healing alright, but there was a distance between them that had never been there. They'd raised Jehanne for 26 years, their daughter, you killed our daughter, what kind of man kills his own sister? It was never said, of course, but he could see it in the tension on their faces and the stiff way they held themselves near him.

They declined both times to stay for dinner.

Celann couldn't move on. His family thought he was a murderer, his fiancee was no longer living with the man she'd gotten engaged to. Something in bim broke when he thought about it, that they were supposed to be married in a few months. He'd been over the moon about it, wouldn't stop talking about it to anyone who listened, even if they weren't really, but the hush that had fallen over the house as Charlotte gave him the space he'd started needing felt like an ill omen.

Two months passed of feeling like an outsider in his own life and he was saying goodbye to her. She refused to break off their engagement, said he felt guilty and was being stupid, and as he tried to promise not to darken her door again she told him for better or for worse came before the wedding vows and if he didn't at least write to her on his trip with this mystery woman she'd find him and drag him back home like a runaway boy.

It… hadn't been what he'd planned on. He hadn't planned on returning or writing at all, had planned on removing himself entirely, no longer the man she'd intended to marry and pained at how she was caring for him. He hadn't told her about meeting the woman from the temple, either–but people talked and Lotte was good at listening, and he wasn't as surprised as he could have been. He had mixed feelings about the indefinite engagement, but if it was what she wanted he'd let her have it, like she was letting him leave because he needed to. They looked after each other like that.

Perrette, on her part, when he found her at breakfast, immediately told him through a mouthful of jam and toast where the woman from the temple was before standing and pulling him into a hug. She pressed a small wooden box and a dagger into his hands before wishing him well and telling him to hurry, because the stranger had been packing her things last she saw and getting ready to leave.

It turns out she had left, hours ago, but Celann found her waiting expectantly outside the gate just off the road. She was sitting with her own breakfast with a second placement set up for him, and he once again didn't like the knowing look in her eyes as he sat down. She explained, eventually, that she was with the Vigil of Stendarr, and had been sent with two others to investigate rumors of vampires in the area. Jehanne had been an opportune victim, out alone on the road so early in the morning; the vampire had been trying to start a clan and needed bodies to fill the seats.

He'd almost been one of them. It was a matter of hours, apparently.

Again, she assured him they were all dead and asked if he intended to join her and her companions on the road–if he had seen what chaos and danger creatures like vampires pose and wanted to take up arms against them. He didn't answer, and she didn't demand he give one; they ate together in silence again and she didn't comment on the way he'd glance back at the gate every now and then. The guard on duty would give a little wave each time, a sad look on his face, and so Celann looked less and less until he didn't look again at all. He was leaving, after all; something deep in him was different, had shaken him out of the life he'd had, and he was moving on. There wasn't room for whatever he was in the space he'd made for himself anymore.

A few nights later he would untie the ribbon around that little box Perrette had given him, far away from town, and open it to find a clumsily hand drawn set of cards with little messages penned in her handwriting on the back. He turned the fool around to see a scribbled portrait of himself amongst the scrawled decoration; the back of every queen was a rough sketch of Charlotte. He put them gently back in the box, retied the ribbon, and ignored the look Freyja gave him as he slipped it back into his bag.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, again, without a body next to him.

"For those who cherish memories of loved ones, their compassion often conceals the beast. Our compassion compels us to destroy it."

#skyrim #celann #dawnguard #writing #i really need a personal writing tag hmm #also yeah i was thinking about like. disney narrators. when the camera is showing the village or whatever #idk something new #anyway if basically everyone in skyrim is a man im making everyone in celanns backstory a woman. i make the rules #also dw about the engagement im a polyship celann truther #whos going to stop me #my last dnd character was named moore and i thought moore/less (pre/post canpaign trauma) was such a funny joke #celann went from moore to less real fast #anyway i think this was in my docs for like two months and then i wrote almost the entire thing in two days bc ao3 was down #so. my hand was forced #also im just dropping in the tags that if celann hadnt gone off on a murder journey hed have been kinda okay #but where does that leave us #no sad little man in fort dawnguard #i killed someone > im a killer > killers can only kill > i killed someone #etc its a vicious spiral #k one last extra before i forget but gunmars line at the end is what slammed the last piece of the backstory puzzle together #and the linked song is the title source #i think that covers it all #ive obsessed over every detail of this post long enough im hitting post aldnaonskw

[evanox]

Hello! I saw your stories and I really liked them a lot, so I want to make a kind of request, basically the main 3 from last legacy (you can include rime if you want) with a mc that has gargoyle-like characteristics (like horns, some scales, wings, hard skin, etc) and that they feel insecure about that, I hope it's not a problem.

Have a nice day!

awh i'm glad you enjoyed what i wrote! and sure i can <3 sorry this took a while m.list

Felix

Well if you already felt self-conscious about being compared to Rime, the horns on your head are about to make it worse. I mean, it's not that bad but still... He thinks it might be a cruel joke that the one he ended up summoning not only inherited his dead lover's relic, but also looks like him (to a certain extent)

Then he gets to actually know you, and he no longer associates your features with Rime; if anything, he's very fascinated by you. Sure he's familiar with ilephta, but he's never come across one like you. He's done bird taxidermy once, you know, and he wonders how your human spine accommodates your wings.

I think it's very endearing how he tries to use a special interest of his to show you how amazing you are—he always found beauty in uniqueness—but if the Wonders of Anatomy aren't helping you love your features more, he can try the more tender route: no one words compliments better than he does, you see, for he's quite the cunning linguist—a master debater if you will; and if you like physical affection, he'll press kisses to all the parts of yourself that you dislike. Can he still study your scales?

He'll even wax poetic about how divine your scales or wings are when they glow silver under the moonlight—sweet and tender verses scribbled over his notebook almost absentmindedly, for his mind is too busy wandering all over your lovely features; oh, the lovesick look he'd have on his face! Not that he'll ever show you said verses; he's a little too shy to show off something that personal, but if you do stumble upon these pages and read what he wrote, he won't actually be mad—a little flustered maybe, but very curious about your thoughts.

More than willing to splurge on accessories and things that can be helpful! Hires a tailor to make you pretty clothes that accommodate your horns and wings, and are still easy to wear.

But he'd still look forward to you asking for his help with dressing every now and then; his hands are always very delicate and gentle when handling your wings.

It says that some stories consider gargoyles nocturnal creatures? Well lucky you, Felix is a nocturnal creature himself and is actually glad he can spend time with his partner when he feels more awake, and that he won't be woken up far too early for his liking.

If your MC is actually a human from Earth who gained these features through the portal (like how Celena's bunny ears became real) and it makes them feel uncomfortable, Felix could offer to use a spell to reverse it; he'd have the experience necessary to figure it out after the events of nyacromancy hehe

Anisa

Within the stiff knight lieutenant is a girl who's so hungry for life! She finds beauty in the little things and is so fascinated by everything. Ever since she found out about earth she's always been so open to learning about the new and weird!

Anisa has never seen a winged ilephta; she also did her fair share of earth studies and is quite certain winged and horned people don't exist there... Wait, are the creatures of myth really real on earth? Are you one of them? Do you shed your horns like deer-gazelle ilephta do? Can you use these wings to fly? Can you—

Her hand will fly over her mouth so quickly the moment she realizes she's drowning you in questions, and will ask your forgiveness if she made you uncomfortable.

But if you can fly... Anisa's practically vibrating with excitement. She's trying to think of a way to ask you if you can take her for a ride but she could never find the confidence. Unless you yourself offer, she'll try to find a more roundabout way to ask—oh, MC, I wonder how strong your wings are! Is it possible that you could carry one person while flying? That sure can come in clutch in an emergency, huh? Oh, MC, today's drills sure tired my legs out! It's nothing you have to worry about though! I'm not sure we can still make it to the restaurant today... unless?

Can you imagine the glee on her face when you pull her into your arms bridal-style and take to the air? Her child-like joy is contagious!! Even if you crash into a tree her laughter will still ring throughout the yard and she'll help pick leaves out of your hair and clean up any scratches on your wings.

In fact she really wants to learn how to help you take care of your wings! Your body deserves love and care and it must be difficult to reach back for them! Her hands are warm, firm but gentle, as she rubs soap over your wings during a bath, and she'll reassure you a hundred times that she doesn't find the un-feathered wings gross. In fact she thinks they're pretty cool!

Gets very shy if you're cuddling in bed and you wrap your wings around her in a protective cocoon

Will drop casual compliments every time she gives you a cheek kiss; leaves sweet notes scattered around the apartment before she's off to work (I hope you can somehow find them amongst the mess), and brings back home flowers to decorate your horns with.

Sage

Does "gargoyle-like" include a sudden urge to climb up the highest tower at night to guard over the building? If so, Sage is more than happy to show you the best spots to watch over the entire city of Porrima with all her beautiful twinkling lights; he'll bring drinks or a snack and call it a date if you don't mind ;)

If you end up falling asleep right then there, you'll wake up in the morning to the softness of a fluffy pillow and the warmth of your sheets. How he managed to bridal-carry you despite your wings, or how does he still remember your specific sleep position from the one night you spent together in that one-bed room, you may never know; he'll just brush you off with a flirty line about his strength, but really, it was no big deal.

Are you self-conscious about the size of your wings, MC? All the more reason to find a bigger, more suitable bed ;)

He doesn't understand why but he really likes the texture of your scales; might even gnaw at your arm like a frustrated cat or scratch his nails against the scales when he gets antsy, only if you'll allow him

In fact he's kind of relieved that your skin is harder than most—the extra protection is important with the kind of dangers you might come across. You should love your body for how it takes care of you!

He is kinda curious about whether you have softer spots, though. Is the base of your horns/wings/tail sensitive? He's asking just for science... would you like his help in finding out? ;)

Also hello! Horns can come in pretty handy, if you know what I (or he) mean... Balsam always used them to headbutt assholes; maybe you can too! What, were you thinking of something else, MC? ;)

If you trace your claw against his heart, or scrap your sharp teeth against his neck, he will expire right then and there. He is putty in your hands.

Sage is generally very big on physical affection, especially since words fail him so often. He'll kiss along the arc of your wings all the way to the base so he can trail more kisses over your back. He'll kiss over the scales lining your arms and this man, who always protects his feelings behind 10 walls, will look up at you with such open, un-guarded adoration that you'll see it so clearly in his eyes—you're the most beautiful person in his life, there's no doubt about that.

Rime

In the years he spent in the void, Rime has laid eyes upon countless horrors that are beyond your comprehension, so he doesn't get what you're so insecure about. That is not to say he thinks you're horrifying! Only that you're nothing out of the ordinary, nowhere near as incomprehensible.⁠

What do you mean "that's not helping"?

His view when it comes to appearance is that you're better off not trying to please other people; Lord knows he's done his fair share of that. You can't help what people consider beautiful or ugly, and the sooner you accept that the kinder you'll be to yourself, and you'll have a better chance of loving your body the way it is.

Once you've wormed your way into his heart, he's more than willing to listen to your worries and insecurities, and is more tender when comforting you; might even crack a joke about how you must think his horns are ugly then. Oh, you don't? Then how come yours are? Checkmate.

Oh my God,, can you imagine sharing horn accessories with Rime? He thinks matchy-couples are cringe but not you. You guys are hot and effortless when you do it.

Rime grabbing your horn to tilt your head and make you look him in the eye? I would evaporate.

He shall also impart his wisdom upon you regarding how to sleep and dress with horns, and how to take care of them. You're kind of on your own when it comes to the wings though. Still won't stop him from trying to cuddle.

Unbothered by the scales or any of your sharper features, if anything it'll make your spar sessions more spicy, and like Sage he can also appreciate adaptations that were meant to protect you. Maybe it's an ilephta thing...

Bonus: I don't mean to shamelessly self-promo but,,, if anyone tries to bully your mc for their features, I might have just the hc list for that

#felix iskandar escellun #sage lesath #anisa anka #rime solano varela #last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #last legacy headcanons #last legacy felix #last legacy sage #last legacy anisa #last legacy rime #fictif anisa #fictif felix #fictif rime #fictif sage

[empire-at-war]

KINKTOBER DAY 24

kink of the day: Three or Moresome

additional kinks/warnings: sex party, exhibitionism & voyeurism, recreational drug use, aphrodisiacs

characters: Sith!Silvass and many, many other characters (@lhunuial, @kaosstar, @starrealis, @askshivanulegacy)

A/N: Some self indulgent fun with Sith!AU Silvass, who gets to enjoy the company of many different people at one of Shidohro's famous sex parties. Have fun finding all the cameos and easter eggs in this rather lengthy piece.

***

Silvass wiped his mouth and pressed a quick kiss on the inside of Shidohro's thighs, stroking her long legs until she was completely relaxed. He was in no hurry to get up, he didn't mind kneeling for her.

“Hm, you look so good like this,” he murmured against her soft skin, looking up at her satisfied smile. “Your beauty is beyond compare.” Shidohro cupped his face in her hands, pulled him up for a deep kiss, tasting herself on his lips. “You're such a flatterer.”

She finally released him, let her eyes travel over his scantily clad body as he stood in front of her, clearly conflicted about whether she should let him go. “I'm glad you made it though. I always look forward to welcoming you at my parties.”

“I'm honored by your invitation, as always.” He bowed and winked at her, ignoring the looks he got from the Zabrak and the Zeltron sitting on either side of her. Einan was more controlled, his dislike hidden by a polite smile. Drax on the other hand... if looks could kill, Silvass would probably be dead by now. He grinned at them as he took his leave, promising Shidohro that he would come by later during the party. After that he wandered around a bit, taking a drink from one of the servants, admiring his sculpted chest and extensive piercings. He didn't bother tying his silk robe in the front as sipped from the spiced wine and let his eyes roam over the party, which was in full swing by now. A handsome Sith walked by with a human on a leash, and Silvass found himself staring at the young man's flushed face and the red marks on his ass.

The best thing about Shidohro's famous parties wasn't the food or the wine or the decorations, no, it was her guests. Invitations were highly coveted among Dromund Kaas' high society, but Shidohro always hand picked the chosen ones. And Shidohro had a great and very exclusive taste in all things that mattered.

Silvass recognized many familiar faces in the crowd. Lord Vowrawn was the guest of honor, drawing most of the attention tonight. Of course Mala was here too, either in her position as head of Shidohro's security or to enjoy her day off. Their eyes met briefly, before she flashed him a smile and left with a tall stranger.

Before he could decide where to go next, someone approached him from behind. Small hands, sharp nails, he immediately knew who he was dealing with, even though he had never bothered to learn her name. Shidohro's youngest apprentice was such a feral little creature. Insatiable, irritable, and never patient enough to wait for her turn. The small Zabrak grabbed his hair and pulled his head down for a ferocious kiss, almost making him spill his drink. She growled and bit his lips when he pushed her against a wall. “Nice to meet you too.” He chuckled at her attempts to get him to fuck her. There was something endearing about the way she demanded his attention, the way she wrapped one leg around his waist, squirming to get his half-hard cock inside of her. Silvass vividly remembered the last time he'd fucked her, how loud she had been and how many times she had come on his cock, clawing at his back in ecstasy. She was always too demanding for her station, but stars, did she love being put in her place. So he obliged her, fucked her against the wall until her eyes rolled back in her skull and she cried out, a quick and satisfying encounter to start this evening off.

He barely had time to clean himself up before he saw another familiar face in the crowd, one he hadn't seen in a long time. Zesira was breathtakingly beautiful, many said even more so than her sister, a fact she loved to be reminded of. At the same time, she was nothing like Naya.

As soon as she recognized him, a grin lit up her beautiful face. Silvass followed her into one of the private rooms, where she made herself comfortable in the middle of a huge bed, relaxing in a nest of embroidered cushions, surrounded by her admirers. Her lingerie wasn't designed to cover but instead to show off the best features of her body. Silvass recognized a few of her companions, but not the man who came up behind her, kissed her shoulder. A Mirialan like herself. Big, strong, serious. Very pretty in an angry sort of way.

“Silvass! I had hoped to see you today,” Zesira purred as he sat down next to her. “Would you like to join us for a bit?” She ran her hand down his chest, chuckling when she reached his soft cock. “I'd love nothing more.” He traced the lace of her bra with the tip of his finger, regretting now that he had just finished inside of Shidohro's overeager apprentice. But if he knew anything about Zesira, it was that she was very patient, the complete opposite of the Zabrak girl. Remembering a few of the things they had done together made him smirk. “I'm sure I can be of assistance until I have... fully recovered.” “I might be able to help you with that.” Naya's sister laughed softly and leaned closer to kiss him, wrapping her arms around him. Her lips were sweeter than the sweetest wine, and as they moved against his he immediately recognized the taste. A powerful aphrodisiac commonly referred to as “red mist.” Silvass knew its effects well. Zesira parted her lips, moaned into his mouth, coaxing his tongue into her mouth. As soon as he followed her lead the cloying taste got even stronger, overwhelming his senses. The drug was potent and didn't take long to work. By the time their kiss ended, his heart was beating faster and his cock was harder than it had been all evening, throbbing and burning to be touched. “Hm, that's a promising start,” she laughed and laid back on her cushions, spreading her legs shamelessly for him. He was inside of her in a heartbeat, moaning at the delicious sensations, all of them enhanced and intensified by the drug. Her skin was so soft, her cunt so wet and tight, he felt like he could get lost in her flesh at any moment. He couldn't talk, but he loved the way she kept urging him on, despite there being no need for it. He fucked her with deep, long thrusts, squeezed her perfect breasts and showered her with kisses until she shivered and cried out. As if her moans were a signal, a few of her admirers joined them on the bed, touching her and worshiping her like she deserved. A blue skinned Twi'lek lavished her breasts with kisses, a young man came up behind her to kiss her neck. Several others joined them, their hands all over them. Others were pleasuring themselves, some of them so ecstatically that Silvass had to slow down and watch. There was a pureblood woman with dark purple skin right next to him, and she was pleasuring herself in a way that was so wildly sensual he couldn't look away.

A young man with a flushed face kissed him on the lips, and he could taste traces of the same substance there, distracting him for a moment. Long enough that he didn't notice the slick and slippery cock pressing against his ass. Only when the blunt head pierced him did he fully grasp what was happening. The blonde Mirialan, Zesira's new lover he reminded himself, pushed all the way in, not particularly gentle but with surprising urgency, his breath hot on Silvass' shoulder. Silvass saw the smirk on Zesira's treacherous lips, and he didn't begrudge her her little games. Not when they got him fucked by such a delicious, fat cock. He groaned and thrust back against the man, then forward into Zesira's heat. Stars, yes. This was exactly why he loved Shidohro's parties so much.

#kinktober 22 #kinktober day 24 #swtor ocs #chiss #sith!au #sith!silvass #zesira #shidohro #richtor #and so many others #so many! #kaosstar #lhunuial #starrealis #this got really long #and smutty

[queerenteen]

under a different sea (little mermaid but make it gay) part 2

part 1

There's something unnatural about Ari.

Of course, in the sea, being off-putting is the fastest way to establish that this particular creature is not to be fucked with.

But there is no way that Maya is going to be able to hide that fact when Ari's above water.

Humans, especially so close to the polar caps, are all pale skin and watercolour eyes.

A Tetra like Ari would be an oil painting, the rich colours of a hearth fire, a firecracker in the sky.

They would know.

Above land, being unnatural is a death sentence.

"Do you know how much legs hurt?" says Maya, trying a different approach. "You feel heavier out of the water, you can't maintain your balance, it feels like you're walking on sea urchins."

Ari tilts up her chin and the set in her jaw is all Queen Athena.

"I want to see the land," she says resolutely. "Have you heard the poems? Their songs? I want to know what these humans risk their lives for every single time they venture out into the ocean."

Maya sighs. "If I say no?"

"Then I will find another way."

Maya knows. She can wipe Ari's memory, but she has no idea how far back this fixation goes.

Unless she's willing to erase a princess's entire life from her mind, there's no way to stop her.

"Ugh, fine."

Ari cheers and Maya tells herself that it isn't endearing. (Except it totally is--she's never been good at lying to herself.)

.

Maya agrees.

Ari has been told she is very persuasive. Everyone in her family just says she's clamshell-headed but whatever. She gets the job done.

And once she's sure that she's found a way to be above water for more than a short surface break, she remembers how she'd managed to escape long enough to be there in the first place.

"Oh no, Flounder!" she says, blanching at the thought of him facing Sebastian's hysterics by himself.

Thank you for your sacrifice, you gutsy angelfish. It wasn't in vain.

"You have a friend named Flounder?" says Surena with disdain and Ari kinda agrees that the name appears crude in front of Acantha and Surena. 

The thorn and the knife.

But Flounder was pretty stumbly. It was cute when they weren't shipwreck hunting.

Maya removes a necklace from around her neck and Ari notices a pendant that had been hidden by her ink blouse.

Ari pointedly does not think about where the necklace had just been as she hooks it around her neck, examining the little conch shell.

"Hold it up to your ear," says Maya and Ari complies.

Maya's eyes flare even brighter for a moment and the shock of green is so vivid that she almost misses Maya's:

"Hey there Princess."

Ari starts, her heart beating off rhythm for the instant she thought that Maya was somehow whispering in her ear, the dual noise unsettling.

"Can you hear me?" says Ari back tentatively and Maya nods, her lips curling in a satisfied smirk.

"Okay there you go," says Surena, her tail wiggling.

Ari reaches out a finger and runs it down the ridge of her head. 

Acantha immediately butts forward for head pets and Surena wriggles in contentment.

"They're going to con you into doing that every single time from now," says Maya flatly and Ari hums. 

"That's fine."

She hitches her knapsack on her shoulder and Maya doesn't seem surprised by the sight of the harpoon.

Guess she must have sensed it through her magic or something.

"I'll give you a heads up when I'm done with the transformation potion," says Maya. "Be ready to spend the whole day feeling like your tail's been sawed off."

Ari knows that Maya's trying to dissuade her but still winces. "I'll get some painkillers."

"Sure." The way Maya says it makes Ari wonder how bad it's actually going to be.

But she trusts Maya. And Ari's instincts are almost always spot on.

"See you then I guess. Bye!"

She gives the eels one last scratch before bolting, hoping that Sebastian hadn't broken out the border patrol. Or the string quartet. Or both.

.

So turns out Sebastian had called neither.

But there was a complete operatic choir assembled in the amphitheatre as he sang out his woes.

Flounder was hiding between the snapping oysters and a hammerhead shark bonking its head against a sheet of woven kelp stretched tightly over a coral frame.

"Ari!"

He zips over to her and she pulls him close as he hides in her hair.

"Save me."

"Princess Ariel!" shrieks Sebastian. It's very weird being called out by this tiny crustacean the size of her palm who's also somehow her uncle? It's plain strange. "Where have you been?"

"Gathering!" says Ari, showing off the massive tangle of sargassum she'd found floating and used to cover her harpoon before meeting Maya. "I wanted to make a nest."

The conch against her sternum feels warmer at the thought. 

"Ariel," says Sebastian slowly. "You are a royal. Someone could have gotten it for you. Someone can make the nest for you!" 

A swarm of gourami blow a flurry of bubbles at that.

"Bubble nests are quite the trend these days," begins Sebastian before coming back to himself. "I'm afraid I must bring your absence to the notice of the King." There was a reason Ari had done all of this at this time of the year. 

"Oh no my father the King whatever am I going to do?"

Flounder snickers near her ear and Ari hides a small smile as Sebastian, the sarcasm passing straight over his antennae, leads the way to the throne room.

#the little mermaid #ariel #sapphic #fairytale retellings #f/f romance #sapphic retellings