#so having associate him with my favorite flower brings me so much joy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

staytinyville · 6 months

Text

Felix

PLEASE REFER TO MASTERLIST TO GET FULL TAROT READING EXPERIENCE

↣ Summary: You lived in a village that were not strangers to the magic of the world. Half of them were magical creatures themselves. However they all kept to themselves and to their own kind. But seeing as you are one of the kindest humans of all you couldn’t help but to get the attention of a certain fairy.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Lee Felix x gn!reader

↣ Genre: fluff

↣ AU/Trope info: human!reader, fairy!felix, meadow!au

↣ Word Count: 1.1k

↣ Warnings: None

↣ A/N: The sun card is a card largely associated with your inner child. I really loved that Felix got this card honestly. TBH each member who got like the big three (The Sun, The Moon, and The Star) are all the members who are considered sunshines of the groups. The ones who make people smile a lot.

THE SUN

Positivisty, Warmth, Fun, Success, Vitality

The Sun is a card that tells you that you are a sunshine to the world. Wherever it is you go, the sun is sure to follow. It is also meant to help you through tough times. The joy you bring for others is you greatest strength.

If things are tough right now, the Sun is here to tell you that the night will end and the day will come. Your tough times are coming to an end that's all you need to know.

Use your emphatic abilities to instill hope and joy in others that flock around you. Be sure to keep some for yourself though. Burning out from having to cater to others is a thing.

XIX THE SUN

You had always enjoyed the small things in life. Like how the flowers bloomed in the mornings or how the hummingbirds would come around in the evening for a sip of their nectar. You would spend your entire time outside of the house so long as the sun allowed you. Because of this the creatures that surrounded you were always at your doorsteps waiting for you to give them something.

Your favorite were the fairies that would come to your garden and leave gifts for you. There was one though that you seemed to fall in love with. It was how they always gave you poems or flowers you liked so much. It was with their words and actions that you found yourself wanting to speak with them everyday.

How do you know all my favorite things?

You had written to them, it being the only way the both of you communicated.

You must be watching me. I wish to meet you. If that is alright.

He would send you a letter back and hide it between your rose bushes, keeping it safe from intruding animals that might take it before you had the chance of finding it.

I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that. What I would give to be able to see you in person.

He wrote back to you one day. Your shoulders had sagged and it seemed as though you were upset with the whole ordeal. But you knew there were rules to follow–especially for a fairy. So you continued sending letters, happy with each piece of paper that you would find.

Then you will be my secret to have.

My fairy in the garden.

By the time you had realized it, you had been sending letters to your garden fairy for two months. In that time there was this group of boys that you had met in the village. They weren’t always there when you would go down but when they were it was always a great time to spend with them.

You had clicked with one of them, calling him sunshine. His friends would tease him but you would always reassure him that it made him all that more adorable. It fit his character and you enjoyed that so much about him. He brought out something in you that made you enjoy your time spent in the sun all that much more.

You realized that you were growing feelings for him, feeling a bit worried about your garden fairy. There wasn’t much you knew about fae folk but you still couldn’t help but enjoy your little secret with one.

I met this boy. His name is Felix.

You wrote to your garden fairy.

He is so kind and generous.

He gave me the same flowers you have.

He says he has a garden full of them.

The letter you got back made you smile and feel a bit better. You didn’t want to forget about them, enjoying them too much to just give them up. You loved their gifts and their attention. They made you find your inner child that made you realize how beautiful things were when you knew where to look.

You are a sunshine to be with my love.

Any boy would be lucky to be with you.

I'm sure this Felix cares deeply.

They gave you no reason to think that they weren’t happy for you. In fact they tried to tell you that whatever it was you chose it would be the right one. You were happy to know they supported what you wanted. It made you a bit sad to know they would probably never show themselves to you. But that was a part of life. Moving on to the next chapter.

I don't want to forget about you.

You are my first love.

“Hi, Felix.” You smiled brightly as you saw the boy looking over your garden. “What are you doing?”

His smile brought a warm feeling into your chest. He was someone who just brought so much joy to the people around him it was hard not to smile back. He was someone who was beautiful inside and out. He was truly a lucky person to have as a friend.

“I'm just looking at your garden.” He giggled, gesturing to your roses where you had the gift boxes for the fairies. “It's so lovely.” He looked down at it, a small smile on his face as he seemed to be reminiscing.

“It's my fairy garden.” You exclaimed, moving to brush some of the brushes to the side to show him the small homes you had put out for them.

You didn’t know if they used them or not but with the gifts most of them left you, you figured they knew all about your little set up.

“Fairy?” He asked, watching over your shoulder.

“It's where I give to all the fairies in the area.” You explained. “They come and take. Sometimes they leave things for me.”

His eyes were gleaming in the sun as you watched him. A blush seemed to overtake your cheeks the more you took him in. And the small smile he gave you as you explained your small space made your heart flutter.

Glancing down to his hand you noticed that he had an envelope in his hand. “Do you need to take that somewhere?” You asked him.

“Not at all.” He softly told you, holding it out to you. “It's—it's for you.”

You looked at him confused for a moment, before taking a hold of the paper. You could easily figure out where the paper had come from. And the handwriting was one you knew all too well. Reading over the one simple sentence that was written neatly in the middle of the page, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Felix?” Your lips trembled, looking up at him with watering eyes as your emotions overcame you. “You're my fairy in the garden?” You asked him softly.

“I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier.” He smiled, his own eyes shining with tears as he was finally happy to get the chance to tell you in person. “You know how my kind can be. But my coven mates told me to take the chance. So I wanted to finally tell you.”

You laughed, letting the paper fall to the ground as you giggled into Felix’s ear from where you had pulled him into a hug. His deep laugh rang through your head, making you even more happier. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a circle.

Hopefully you first and last.

Tags : @cultofdionysusnet , @sandsofire , @k-vanity

36 notes · View notes

autisticempathydaemon · 1 year

Note

Hello there! This is for the matchups!

Song: Guns for Hire from the Netflix show Arcane :) I'm hyperfixating on it because I associated this song with a scene from an Interactive Fiction game I'm following called Leas: City of the Sun (it's a fantasy romance game and I love it so much) For specifics, I love this lyric itself but also the way it was sung was chef's kiss -> With all this weight buckling down on you now/ Don't you drown and float away (I love the pre-chorus too but yeah -> You're out of time make your move/ Live or die while the fuse is lit/ And there's no turning back)

MBTI: It's always one of two of these options -> ISTP and ISFP (I think I'm more of an ISFP tho)

Childhood imaginary friend: I never had one (sad, I know) but I always spoke to my stuffed animals :)

Hobbies: I love writing and drawing in my spare time. It helps me to relax and I usually listen to music that fits the vibe of what I'm writing or drawing as well

Fall asleep to: I never do this on purpose but majority of the time I fall asleep to any kind of ASMR but majority of the time it's ASMR/audio roleplays

Fav R.Audios: David's hoodie audio, Milo's audio where Sweetheart heals him, Milo's ACTUAL sleep aid and Gavin's confession audio. I've also been listening to James' Past/Present audio and I love the Inversion hehe

Don't vibe with: Regulus :) this is absolutely no hate to him but I'm just not a fan of obsessive or possessive characters

R.Audio bestie: I love Huxley. I wouldn't date him but he would be such a great friend :)

Memorised movies: I know all the words to Mulan and Tangled. It's unhealthy

Favourite media (?): My favourite K-drama is Flower of Evil (it's a mystery-thriller romance) and I absolutely love League of Legends: Arcane on Netflix. My favourite webtoon is Purple Hyacinth and it's a mystery with some action and has really hot main characters heh :)

Favourite books/authors: I don't read very often but if I had to choose a favourite book it would probably be The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. I also love reading Leigh Bardugo

Fav animal: Cats. Very generic but if I had to choose an animal I would like to be, it would be a cat.

Fav foods: Chicken and potatoes in any form. Very basic but I love it if it is made well

Thanks so much and I hope you have a great day/night! <3

INFP's seem to be characterized by their unique, open, and spontaneous nature. They bring a lot of creativity and fun to the lives of everyone they meet, and I think Lasko could really benefit from a partner like that.

It would make a lot of sense that Lasko, being a workaholic, would forget to make time for the hobbies that bring him joy, like video games and TTRPGs. It’d be so lovely the two of you to sit and be creative together, whether that be writing, drawing, or just consuming art. Lasko seems like he’d enjoy a good Asian drama, I feel this in my soul.

Also, Tangled is one of Lasko’s absolute favorite movies. A young, naive child with special powers and an authoritarian guardian breaking out of a prison to go on a journey where they find self-discovery and love? He eats that shit UP. You serenade him with I See the Light, and it turns him into an adorable mess.

Song:

Ooh, like Sunday I'll pray our love will always stay pure/ Ooh, while the world turns around, he holds me down for sure

Ooh, yes, I am delightfully intimate with the Arcane soundtrack. That was a hyperfixation of mine last year. (ViktorxReader is actually what got me back into writing fanfiction- a little peak behind the emerald curtain lol) So I had to give you the fun, sweet love song off of it. I don’t know if it’s his genre- Lasko’s taste in music eludes me- but I can see him hearing that song and it bringing him joy and it reminds him do you (especially if the two of you watch Arcane and look forward to season 2 together!)

Runner-Ups:

Wouldn’t it be, like, so cute to be the one to show Sam modern media and movies? This man has absolutely no clue what League of Legends is, and you are about to get him so cowboy-hat-deep in lore. Next, hear me out… Eric deserves love and something more in his life, and I think you are just the person to bring it.

Note: Song of Achilles broke me gosh I’m sad now lol jk thank you for giving me an excuse to binge the Arcane soundtrack while I wrote this 🧡

Want a match-up of your own? Read this post, and tell me about yourself! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee matches

12 notes · View notes

nex-ture · 2 years

Text

Giving Them Chocolate

Including: Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, Childe, Zhongli, Thoma, and Kazuha

Saiki K Edition | Genshin Edition

Kaeya

He's delighted when you greet him with a box of chocolates for valentines day.

He will tease you a bit, he loves you but this is just so adorable. His lover bringing him chocolates? How adorable

He'll hand you a few flowers he bought from the shop in Mondstadt while kissing your hand

He's always been one for cheesy romance.

"You seem to know exactly what I like...Perhaps we should spend this day together"

Diluc

He'd be a bit embarrassed if you were to give it infront of all the people in the tavern but grateful nonetheless

He will cherish anything you get for him. You make him feel special, he loves that more than anything

He'll close the tavern early just so he can spend this romantic day with his lover

Nobody understands him better than you do, perhaps that's why he loves you so

"Is this for me? Thank you traveler. Why don't we walk around Mondstadt for today? Don't worry about the tavern, we can close early today. I'm sure everyone will understand"

Xiao

He doesn't understand why you've handed him a peice of cardboard chapped like a heart. Is this another human tradition?

He never associated himself with strange mortal holidays, they never intrested him.

Oh, it was to show you love him? That's...nice, maybe he does like this one holiday after all

"Why are you giving me this strange thing? Valentines day? Day of love? I see...thank you traveler, should we go some place to eat for this "holiday"."

Childe

He's ecstatic, the person he love got HIM chocolates? That's so cute!

He wants to spend this Valentines day with you and his family.

Sureater that night you two will go off and do your own things but spending the day of love with the people he loves the most is always his goal. Every year.

Nothing could ruin this day, it has to be the best day of his entire life.

"Aw comrade you shouldn't have, why don't we go eat there with Teucer. It's not the day of love for nothing!"

Zhongli

Very appreciative that you decided to bring him a gift on this beautiful day.

Sure he's gotten gifts from friends and others as thank yous or just nice gifts but there was something truly special about getting a gift from his beloved.

He would love nothing more than spending time on this beautiful day of love to drink tea or wine while enjoying the beautiful sights of Liyue.

"It seems like everything is better when I am blessed with your presence, thank you traveler for the gifts. I hope the rest of the day fills you with true bliss and joy."

Thoma

Aw that's adorable, he loves the idea of Valentines day and the fact he gets to spend it with you. He'll definitely have to take you to his favorite hotpot place.

The bright red blush the spreads across his face when you hand him the chocolates is adorable. Inazuma didn't have valentine's day special chocolate packs so you just bought him a small bag or chocolates.

He never wants this day to end, seeing you so happy just being with him is all he could ever ask for.

"Oh these are for me? Wow, these are all my favorites. Thank you so much traveler. We should stop and get some hotpot, my treat!

Kazuha

He had been preparing his gift for you all week so he was quite suprised when it turned out you had a gift for him in return.

He was met with a bag of chocolates you had Aether/Lumine get for you while they were in Inazuma. It'd be more special if they came from a place that was his home

Kazuha was forever grateful, though his gift was a little more. He had written a poem for you and was egar to read it to you all day. He was so excited when it finally came time

"Thank you traveler, these are amazing. If you don't mind, may I read you a haiku I had prepared for this special day? Wonderful, please listen close"

539 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Prompt: Fic snippet proposed by @myakkoh (tumblr) or BlueSapphire718 (ao3):

“I’m what?” Lan Qiren squawks, since this is the first time he’s heard anything about this. “Sworn brothers with me,” Wen Ruohan drawls. “A memorable night, really.” Lan Qiren stares. “What.” “What’s wrong?” Wen Ruohan sneers. “Can’t speak properly to Da-ge?” “You,” Lan Qiren says, “cannot be Da-ge. It sounds wrong.” “Oh?” “You, are two generations older than me. I am only sixteen.” “All the better,” Wen Ruohan says smoothly.

------------------------------------------------

Spilled Pearls

A/N: If Tedious Joys is the story of LQR's relationship with Sect Leader Nie and how WRH impacts that, then this is the story of LQR's relationship with WRH and how Sect Leader Nie impacts that.

Please note the tagging on Ao3 for all warnings, including as to tone

- Chapter 1 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was running to catch up, because he was always running to catch up.

He’d only been allowed to join this particular night-hunt because of Lao Nie’s interference – his brother hadn’t wanted him there, specifically because Lan Qiren was slow and overly fixated on details and not all that handy with a sword – and he was determined not to fall behind. But he was slow, as always, and tired more easily than the others, and then he got distracted and realized a considerable distance had opened up between him and the rest of the group.

He ran to catch up –

He tripped.

He was going to fall flat on his face, he realized as he pitched forward, throwing his hands up in front of his face to try to blunt the pain since humiliation was already a given. He probably wasn’t far enough behind for them not to see this, and then his brother would turn his face away and sigh, aggravated, his shoulders slumping in disappointment at how Lan Qiren had lost him and their sect face all over again.

Lan Qiren was so bound up in his gloomy thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that he had not, in fact, hit the ground.

Someone had caught him.

Even now, they were holding him by the shoulder, keeping him from falling the rest of the way down with a single hand; the posture was awkward, and must be uncomfortable for them.

Lan Qiren straightened himself up immediately and dropped into a deep salute. “Thank you for your help –”

He looked up.

“…Sect Leader Wen,” he finished weakly.

He stared briefly up into red eyes before averting his gaze. He’d thought it was Lao Nie who’d come back to help him, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the familiar Nie colors turning back to the group – perhaps he had come, and was now leaving, since help wasn’t necessary any longer.

He hadn’t expected it to be Wen Ruohan, an ancient monster two generations his elder despite his deceptively youthful face – he hadn’t even realized that Wen Ruohan had decided to tag along on this night-hunt, though of course once he thought about it, it seemed perfectly reasonable. He, like all the other sect leaders, was here for the discussion conference, and a small forest town in the vicinity of the Cloud Recesses did not offer much in the way of other entertainment for outsiders. Why shouldn’t he come along on the night-hunt?

“It’s no matter,” Wen Ruohan said, and it probably wasn’t, for him. Someone with his level of cultivation could hold a kid like Lan Qiren up for a week without noticing the strain. “Did you get distracted by something back there?”

“Small blue flowers,” Lan Qiren said. “Typically associated with certain healing herbs, none of which are native to this area, and growing under an oak of all things; I was wondering if the placement had been deliberate and, if so, by whom and for what purpose. Not to mention when, since those aren’t perennial herbs; they have a longer growing cycle that requires certain meteorological conditions –”

“Aren’t we hunting serpent demons today?” Wen Ruohan asked, and Lan Qiren flinched.

They were, of course. And serpent demons wouldn’t exactly take the time to go plant healing herbs in a wild patch, so it had been a totally pointless diversion.

As usual.

“I got distracted,” Lan Qiren mumbled, his earlier enthusiasm squashed. “I’d say it won’t happen again, but it probably will, and do not lie is a rule.”

Wen Ruohan gave an amused huff. “Ah yes, the famous Lan sect rules. Do you often follow them?”

“Always!”

A hum. “I see. Well, the others have gotten rather far ahead, and I hear the sound of fighting – they must have already found the serpent demons, and will no doubt finish them off by the time we catch up.”

So he’d missed it. Lan Qiren’s shoulders drooped in disappointment.

“Why don’t you show me your flowers, instead?”

Lan Qiren looked up. Wen Ruohan was smiling.

“If you’re sure,” he said cautiously, but Wen Ruohan shrugged and nodded, and, well, Lan Qiren was supposed to be making friends with the members of the other sects, wasn’t he? Maybe no one had been thinking about the Wen sect, especially since Wen Ruohan’s last set of children had all died – someone had broken the prohibition on gossip in Lan Qiren’s presence and suggested that Wen Ruohan had something to do with that, rather than it being just bad luck, and that he’d done it because he thought he was a real immortal and therefore could always start anew, but the idea was so appalling that it surely couldn’t be true – but there wasn’t any real reason to exempt his sect or even him, either. Friends were friends, weren’t they? “It’s this way. Follow me.”

Wen Ruohan put his hands behind his back and followed Lan Qiren back towards the tree he’d found, his every motion slow and stately as if he were walking in a garden rather than the forest. Lan Qiren found himself mildly jealous.

To distract himself – envying others was against the rules! – he started explaining about the flowers he’d recognized and the types of herbs he thought the plant might be, citing the treatises he’d read about their usual spread and growing patterns and the uses for each one. Somewhere along the line he got distracted, though, because Wen Ruohan mentioned something about the Lan sect rules again, except he got it wrong; there was no rule against excessive verbosity, only against frivolous speech, and while there was a positive rule that counseled speaking meagerly, that was explicitly meant to avoid words that could bring harm and therefore did not apply to intellectual discussions.

Delighted as always to talk about his favorite subject, Lan Qiren promptly launched into an explanation as to the history of the debate as to whether there should be an affirmative prohibition against excessive speech, the various points on either side, the historical texts on the subject, the storied history of the rules regarding the need for an exchange of ideas in furthering education balanced against the exhortation not to take words lightly…

“Look at me,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren obeyed at once. Wen Ruohan was his elder, although not of his sect, and by this point Lan Qiren was used to elders disapproving of how his flickering gaze tended not to settle on people and his preference to look at things through his peripheral vision, and of being ordered to meet their gaze.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes were red, as he’d noticed before, and his gaze was heavy and thoughtful, somehow ponderous. It felt almost like pressure against his skin or maybe his mind.

Maybe I should change subjects or be quiet, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the thought coming to him almost involuntarily, but then he realized that if he did, Wen Ruohan wouldn’t hear about the three-day conference that had been held in his great-grandparents’ generation that specifically focused on the rules that related to speech. And that would be an awful shame, wouldn’t it?

So he kept going.

He kept up the eye contact, though. The elders didn’t always like that, either – when he did hold someone’s gaze, he would stare too directly and too long, not knowing when it was appropriate to turn away, but he figured Wen Ruohan would simply tell him. He’d reminded him about the eye contact earlier, hadn’t he?

“How old are you?” Wen Ruohan suddenly asked, just as Lan Qiren was taking a deep breath, having finished explaining the conference and about to launch into a discourse on the follow-up texts that had been written in the immediate aftermath.

Lan Qiren blinked, distracted by the apparent non sequitur. “Thirteen,” he said.

Wen Ruohan hummed thoughtfully. “Thirteen. Interesting.”

“Is it?” Lan Qiren asked, bemused. “I think it’s a rather boring age. I’m old enough for more chores, but not old enough to have free access to the library or go on night-hunts on my own.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled. His voice was very deep. “I was more commenting on your strength of mind, which is remarkable for your age. I do not recall the age itself,” he said, his tone a little dry. He was ancient, so it was reasonable for him to forget having been thirteen. “Has anyone ever told you about the ways in which cultivation can be used to influence the thoughts and will of others?”

Lan Qiren thought about it. “I think so? There’s a text that says that weak-willed cultivators can be swayed through external pressure wielded by a stronger person’s cultivation, and the larger the power gap between the cultivators, the more effective the influence can be…I don’t remember which text it was, though. I could look up the citation for you when we return –”

“No need. I am not in search of sources.”

Wen Ruohan probably had his own library full of sources, Lan Qiren reflected, and nodded.

“Oh, we’re here,” he said, noticing, and pointed to the flowers. “See, like I told you earlier, it has the characteristic qualities of –”

“Qiren!”

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was his brother’s voice, and he didn’t sound happy.

“Sect Leader Wen,” his brother said, striding into the clearing where they were standing and saluting in a somewhat perfunctory fashion. “I appreciate you taking the time to watch over my younger brother – please forgive him for any impertinence or insult –”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders were up by his ears and his whole face was red with shame. He hated how his brother apologized for him before he even checked whether Lan Qiren had even done anything; it was embarrassing that his brother always thought so little of him.

Maybe he wasn’t talented the way his brother was, but he wasn’t that bad, he didn’t think.

“Think nothing of it, Qingheng-jun,” Wen Ruohan was saying in return. “We were merely spending some time together. I assume the serpent demons have been taken care of?”

“Yes, they have,” Lan Qiren’s brother said. “There’s some debate regarding the disposition of the corpses, if you’d like to join in – forgive us both, but I have to take my brother back to make sure he doesn’t miss curfew.”

Curfew wasn’t for another two shichen, so Lan Qiren had no idea what his brother was talking about, but he obediently saluted Wen Ruohan and followed his brother away.

The moment they were out of view, his brother reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, squeezing far too tightly, and tugged meaningfully, glaring when Lan Qiren opened his mouth to protest.

Lan Qiren didn’t understand what his brother was trying to convey.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren started to say, and felt his lips abruptly seal together – it was the muting spell. He could break it, of course, being a member of the Lan sect as well, but his brother was his elder; he should wait patiently until he removed it. Still, he was a little indignant that his brother felt the need to use it on him. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong!

(The glare, he thought. The glare must have been a secret message to not speak, and he’d missed it.)

His brother didn’t say anything as they got on their swords, and he didn’t let go of Lan Qiren’s wrist, either, tugging him along as if he thought Lan Qiren was stupid enough to get lost on the way home. A feeling of shame, the sensation of having made some terrible error and not having realized it again, settled in Lan Qiren’s belly and steadily got worse and worse as they traveled.

It wasn’t until they were back at the inn that was housing everyone during the night-hunt that his brother released his hand.

“You shouldn’t let yourself be alone with Sect Leader Wen,” he said, which surprised Lan Qiren – he’d expected his brother to jump straight into listing out all the ways Lan Qiren had embarrassed him at the night-hunt. He hadn’t been expecting his brother to say something like that at all.

“Why not?” he asked, and his brother glared at him. “You didn’t want to babysit me, and I was falling behind. He wanted to see the flowers –”

“He was humoring you,” his brother interrupted. “Everyone always humors you, but no one actually ever cares about whatever nonsense you’re rambling on about this week. Don’t you know that especially powerful cultivators can affect the mind of the weak-willed?”

Lan Qiren blinked. What a strange coincidence, both his brother and Sect Leader Wen mentioning the exact same thing. “Yes,” he said. “I know. In fact –”

“I don’t want to hear another one of your stupid citations,” his brother said, cutting him off, and making Lan Qiren feel stupid and resentful again – he hadn’t even been about to cite anything! “Anyone who’s ever met you can figure out that you’re little better than a half-wit, all right? Wen Ruohan is a petty person, capable of anything, even only on a whim. Don’t spend time alone with him. Consider it another rule.”

“You don’t have the authority to make rules!”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” his brother snapped, and Lan Qiren bowed his head, acknowledging the point. “Now do me a favor and stay here until the conference is over – I should be back with the rest of them, acting in Father’s place as the sects divide up the spoils. I can’t believe I’m here taking care of you again instead.”

Lan Qiren wrung his hands together. He hadn’t intended anything like that. “Xiongzhang –”

“Have I made myself clear?”

“…yes, xiongzhang.”

“Good.” His brother was on his sword and flying back towards the forest before Lan Qiren could even blink. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.

Lan Qiren supposed he didn’t have to. It wasn’t like Lan Qiren was going anywhere.

At least, not yet. He was already thirteen – less than ten years and he’d be advanced enough to go anywhere he liked, to be a traveling musician and cultivator the way he’d always planned. He’d be able to help people and spend time with anyone he liked, or not spend time with anyone at all if he didn’t feel like it, and there would be nothing his brother could do to stop him.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #qingheng-jun #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #as many of you guessed this is the long one #WRH is not evil #or that evil anyway #very slow burn #LQR's no good very sad backstory #going to post this M W F and other fics in between

184 notes · View notes

ahtsumu · 3 years

Text

LOVE PERSEVERING, EP 1. “The Plot Twist”

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

synopsis: the nanami’s have an evening full of surprises – the most surprising of all, however, is the one that comes without explanation.

tag(s): loose (very loose) wandavision!au, humor, domestic fluff, suggestive content, profanity, can be read as a standalone! ; wc: 2.6k

love persevering m.list

“SORRY I’M LATE.”

Nanami Kento closes the front door behind him and changes out of his oxfords for house slippers. The traffic was crazy, there’d been an accident on the 101, a Maserati collided with a Ferrari and the two drivers were hashing it out in the middle of – no, that’s a horrible story and even worse lie. He doesn’t even drive to work. He takes the Caltrain to his job in San Francisco every morning and takes it home to Sunnyvale every evening.

Shit, Nanami thinks as he tries to hide the evidence of his… offense. Can he cover it up with something? Maybe if he held his briefcase in front of it… No, that’s so obvious. It’s so… red. And big. There’s no way it’d stay concealed.

It’s not that Nanami is in any way dumb or easily frazzled. No, he’s quite intelligent and levelheaded and the fact that he works as an Associate at Goldman Sachs should be proof enough. It’s just that he strongly dislikes the thought of lying to you. Technically, he doesn’t even have to make up a story to explain his tardiness. You probably don’t really care that he’s – Nanami checks his watch while setting his briefcase down – an hour late home. But having a story would quell your suspicions about the true reason he’s late.

See, today his co-worker Archie was talking on and on about how he surprised his wife with a bouquet of fifty roses the other night and, well, Nanami felt inspired. He’s not typically one for large romantic gestures, so he thought that maybe he should step up his game and at least remind you of how much he loves you the one day he’s given a sign to.

“First, you gotta lower her expectations, y’know?” Archie says like he’s giving a pitch. “Make her think the conversation is gonna be far from romantic. Say something totally boring. ‘Hey, honey, I had a great day at work today.’ Somethin’ like that, y’know? Then you just whip it right out. Bam.”

Nanami looks at the pink peonies in his hand with a small smile. Happy marriage, the flower shop attendee had said. Hearing your footsteps leading out from the second-floor bedroom, he quickly places the red bouquet behind the living room sofa before rushing back to his original place by the door. At first sight of your figure descending the stairs, Nanami starts (perhaps too exaggeratedly) loosening his tie.

“Ken.”

Oh. Oh, this doesn’t sound too good. Pausing his movements, Nanami assesses the damage. Your arms are crossed over your chest and your head is slightly cocked to the side, and you’re shooting him an expectant look. To be frank, you look a little pissed. You’re not even smiling. This definitely isn’t too great.

“Honey,” he starts, flashing you a conciliatory smile.

“Did you know that we were supposed to leave for our reservation an hour ago?” you interrupt.

Reservation? It doesn’t ring a bell.

Oh, is that why… fuck.

Taking your husband’s silence as evidence that he’d forgotten, you let out a sigh and walk up to his frozen frame, stopping when you’re right under his nose. “Did you?”

Nanami looks up at the ceiling as he tries to recall anything about reservations, but his mind turns blank. Actually, he thinks as he furrows his brows, he can’t even remember what he did yesterday.

“No,” he admits truthfully, looking into your eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry but I don’t remember at all. Listen, I –”

And then, you laugh.

“I was just messin’ with you, babe.” Still giggling, you pull him in for a hug. “The reservation’s not today.”

Nanami blinks as his arms wrap around you. There’s no reservation. “You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles. “I genuinely thought that I’d done something wrong.”

“No, definitely not. You’re wonderful.” Lifting your heels off the floor, you capture Nanami’s lips in a short kiss. He eagerly responds, pulling you closer into his firm body. This is, without a doubt, Nanami’s favorite part about coming home. You. Always there, at the end of the day, with your sunny little grin and sweet, adoring eyes. A little piece of paradise.

“You are so much trouble,” he murmurs as you pull apart. You hum at that, unable to disagree.

“We do, however, have a reservation at eight tomorrow.”

He frowns. “I genuinely don’t remember making plans for that, darling, I’m sorry.” Nanami glances down at your face and notices your surprised expression.

“Me neither. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me something about that.”

Well, that’s odd. It’s not often that either of you forgets anything, let alone something as easily remembered as a dinner reservation. It’s utterly peculiar that you would both happen to forget about the same thing. Today’s turning out a lot stranger than he’d ever expected. “How’d you find out?”

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and show him the email confirmation.

Dear Mr and Mrs. Nanami,

Thank you for making a reservation with us at Gary Danko. As a reminder, your reservation is for two people at 8:00 PM this Friday.

If you have any questions concerning your reservation, please feel free to contact us. We look forward to serving you!

Thank you,

The Gary Danko Team

“This is… strange,” Nanami notes, studying the little screen.

“Very,” you agree.

“Should we cancel?”

“Should we?”

“I –” Nanami’s stomach grumbles, putting a pause on your conversation.

With a chuckle, you slide your phone back into your pocket. “Never mind. We can talk about it during dinner,” you say, helping your husband out of his suit jacket. As the blazer comes off, you affectionately rub a few circles on his back, feeling his posture relax under your touch. Honestly, he works too hard. You always tell him this but he really should take a few days off and drive down to the beach – maybe with you, if he’d like – and forget about the world for a while. God knows he could use the rest.

Nanami hums in approval. “You go on first.” He kisses your forehead before gesturing at the briefcase on the floor. “I should put this away.”

The moment you disappear into the dining room, Nanami moves his briefcase onto the coffee table and brings the bouquet of pink peonies out from their place behind the sofa, this time holding them behind his back. A reservation neither of us remembers, he suddenly thinks as he strolls quietly towards the dining room. Truly odd. Tucking the thought away in his mind (there’s always time to figure out mysteries like these), Nanami calls out, “Actually, honey, there’s a reason why I came home late today.”

“I was just about to ask. What was it?” You’re almost done setting the table when Nanami walks through the archway with a bouquet of flowers almost as broad as his shoulders.

“Holy shit.”

He laughs, filling the room with its bell-like sound. “For the lady.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walk over and take the bouquet from his arms, cradling it like a baby. Each petal is fresh and alive and so vibrantly pink. It’s obvious that a lot of care went into this bouquet, and it only touches you further that your husband went to such lengths to guarantee you’d only get the best flowers possible. “Thank you, darling. What’s the special occasion?”

“No occasion,” Nanami says, shrugging. “Just that I love you. And I wanted to remind you that, even on days where nothing happens and it feels like we’re just going through the motions –” he takes your free hand and hunches over to kiss the ring on your fourth finger “– knowing I get to share every day with you gives me joy to look forward to.”

Happy marriage. It’s true and that’s all there is to say about it.

You’re unable to form words. Nanami Kento, the subtle, quiet lover, being loud with affection for once. An indescribable warmth spreads all throughout your body. “Ken…” Tears prick at your eyes as you set the bouquet down on the table and rush into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “I love you,” you murmur in his ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you. Thank you.”

Nanami grins, cradling your face in his large palms. “I should do this more often,” he says, letting out a breathy chuckle when you nod instantly. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on – ” You cut him off with a slow but eager kiss, snaking your arms around his neck and tugging him closer to deepen it. If Nanami had been surprised by your interruption he doesn’t show it – his lips, soft and plump, move in complete synchronization with yours. He tastes like tea and honey and he smells like he always does, of wood and spice and the beach. It’s intoxicating and completely dangerous how irresistible he is and you can’t get enough of him.

The truth is, every real kiss with Nanami feels like the first. And you can never get enough. But you are running out of air, so you break the kiss first and rest your forehead against his, feeling his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, stroking his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my husband.”

Nanami quirks one corner of his mouth up and covers your hand with his, turning his head to kiss its palm. “If I had another life to live after this one, I’d marry you in that one, too.”

A prolonged growl from Nanami’s stomach interrupts your sweet moment.

“I think your stomach objects.”

“Maybe we should shove something down it, like dinner.”

Grinning, you slip out of your husband’s reach and beckon him to follow you into the kitchen.

“This salmon is delicious,” Nanami remarks, taking another bite off his fork.

“Thank you,” you beam. “I found a recipe while I was at work today and thought I’d try it out. Honey garlic salmon. My life is forever changed and so is yours, by extension. You’re welcome.”

Nanami chuckles, ready to respond with a dry comment about ‘having no choice,’ but then that odd email you’d shown him earlier resurfaces in his mind. “Speaking of changes. Should we cancel that Gary Danko reservation?”

You hum, thinking back to the letter as you chew. It seems like the most logical thing to do. After all, neither of you remembers making the reservation. The ambiguity surrounding its existence is unsettling enough to warrant cancellation, but something in you just wants to see what might happen. Swallowing your food, you say, “Don’t you think it’s strange that it has our names on it? I think we should consider going.”

“What if it’s a scam?”

“Then we go home, order Indian takeout, and watch a war documentary until we both fall asleep.”

Unconvinced, Nanami sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, the navy fabric of his button-up tightening around his muscles. “We should call them first, figure out if they know anything.”

“You’re right,” you say, and then you pause before adding, “And if they don’t?”

You’re done speaking but Nanami knows that sentence isn’t finished, and that the other unspoken half is: can we still go? The truth is – and he’s told you many times – that your unpredictability is the most predictable thing about you. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, eyes darting across your face as he contemplates his answer.

It’s not that Nanami is an overprotective husband or needlessly suspicious of every odd thing in life. It’s that he somehow cannot remember a single second of his life before today, the same day this email arrived. To be more accurate, he feels like he has those memories inside him. Somewhere, deep in his brain, he vaguely remembers what things like a “fifth birthday” or “first wedding anniversary” look like. They just feel out-of-reach. Regardless, he’s absolutely certain that things aren’t exactly right. But you look so excited and utterly unaware of his predicament, so it must be something only he’s experiencing and he doesn’t want to burden you with this problem.

“If you really want to go, then we’ll go,” Nanami concludes, taking a sip of his wine. “After all, the wife…”

“… is always right,” you finish for him. “Well, sometimes the husband is, too, but in this specific context, for unspecified reasons, the wife is most definitely correct.” The grin on your face almost puts his worries to rest.

(Almost.)

You call Gary Danko after dinner and they confirm your reservation.

“Sorry if this sounds, um, weird, but would you mind reminding me when we made this reservation?” you ask, walking in circles around the kitchen.

“Not at all!” Some typing noises travel through the receiver before the man you were talking to says, “Actually, you didn’t make the reservation.”

You make eye contact with Nanami who’s lightly rinsing the plates from dinner. “Pardon?”

“No, it was a Miss Amanda Priestly who called us and reserved the table for you two days ago on October 31st. Does that name sound familiar?”

Nanami raises his brows. That’s your boss.

“Um, yeah. I know her, thank you,” you say, frowning. What on earth is your boss doing reserving tables at Michelin-rated restaurants for you and your husband?

“She left a message, too, in case you were, quote, ‘confused,’ unquote. She says, ‘Mimsy, thank you for your help on the Modish Winter look book. Dinner is on me. Kisses, AP.’”

And suddenly, everything falls into place. All those late nights you spent analyzing old trends and predicting the next season’s rush into your memory. For a month, you pretty much lived in your office down the hall from your editor-in-chief. You barely even had time to sleep. It makes sense that Amanda would show her thanks for the effort you put into the project, but you hadn’t expected her to. After all, she’s Amanda Priestly. She still calls you Mimsy instead of your real name.

“Oh, of course!” you laugh, looking over at Nanami. He sends you a curious look before putting the rinsed plates into the dishwasher. “Thank you for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

The call ends and you tuck your phone in your pocket as you say, “Mystery solved.”

“Hmm,” Nanami says, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “The Modish Winter Look Book. For some reason, I don’t remember you working on that.” In fact, he doesn’t remember you working at a magazine company at all, although he can’t put his finger on what job he used to think you had. What is going on?

“Really?” you ask, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers together. “You don’t remember that time I ran into our office with four different tweed blazers and asked which one looked the most wintery?”

Nanami furrows his brows as a memory comes back to him. It was a sunny morning in early November when you ran into the home office with two blazers draped over each arm and forced him to rank them based on how well they exuded “winter energy.” Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing, just that the one with more blue seemed most appropriate for wintertime.

“I just remembered,” he says, a look of amused confusion coming over his features. Today has been so strange. “Did the blue blazer make it to the final look?”

“One moment,” you say, disappearing into the living room and returning with an advanced, rough copy of Modish’s Winter Fashion Edition. “It’s not out yet, but…” you trail off as you flip through the pages, pointing when you get to the one you were looking for “… here’s your contribution to the magazine.”

The blue blazer, in all its glory, smack dab in the middle of the section that says “TRENDS TO SAY GOODBYE TO.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, you predicted something,” you giggle, placing a hand on his chest. “Fashion might be your calling, Ken.”

He smiles wryly. “I’m hanging up.”

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami fluff #nanami x you

178 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 3 years

Text

It’s Been . . . a DAY 2/3

One month a few days, and finally I bring you chapter two! Sorry for the wait. Are you ready for Killian to have a bad day? And maybe a certain blonde makes it better?

Summary: Emma Swan bursts into Killian’s life in spectacular fashion - when her three year old pees on his office floor. Nevertheless, Killian is mesmerized by this tenacious woman. Perhaps fate will let them cross paths again …

Rated: G

Words: Just a bit over 2k in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xhookswenchx @teamhook @let-it-raines @winterbythesea @spartanguard @shireness-says @superchocovian @thesschesthair @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @hookedonapirate @ultraluckycatnd @hollyethecurious @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @bethacaciakay @optomisticgirl @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @ekr032-blog-blog @itsfabianadocarmo @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @xsajx @jennjenn615 @zaharadessert

Chapter Two:

“That’ll be $2.50.”

It’s an innocuous statement, or it normally would be, but Killian has just escaped the office after a particularly nasty run-in with Zelena Green. Escaped her demands for the most ridiculous tax deductions (with no receipts, mind you) along with her shrill screeching and her terrifying claws - ahem, manicure - so swiftly that he apparently ran to the coffee shop empty handed.

“Um . . .” Killian’s panic mounts as he pats his jeans pockets and then his leather jacket with no success. “I think,” he chuckles awkwardly and throws the barista a lopsided and charming (he hopes) smile, “I forgot my wallet.”

The barista simply arches a brow at him, communicating quite clearly that she is immune to his wiles. She braces her arms on the counter and leans towards him.

“It’s still $2.50.”

He clutches the to-go cup in his hand so tightly that it threatens to pop the lid.

“I heard you, lass, and I plan on giving you the money. I just need to run back to the office -”

“You’re not going anywhere until you give me two dollars and fifty cents.”

For a moment, he wants to snap at her, but he learned long ago that he can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. He leans his hip against the counter casually, lowers his gaze a bit, and gives the barista his best smolder.

“You’re a good worker . . .” he finds her name tag, “Ashley. I admire that. I promise you can trust me. My office is only down the block. I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Or I’ll never see you again. Just give me the damn $2.50. I got my pay docked last week for the tinder being short, and I sure as hell won’t let it happen again.”

This is clearly not his day.

“$2.50 you said?” a voice over his shoulder asks.

Killian spins, recognizing that voice. His eyes widen with joy when he sees none other than Emma Swan standing there with a sparkle in her green eyes and a smirk on her lips. She leans around him to set her cup beside his.

“Just put his on my bill,” she tells the barista.

“I can’t let you do that,” he starts to protest, but Emma lifts a hand to stop his words.

“It’s the least I can do after . . . well, what happened to your floors.”

He chuckles lightly, and she blushes even as she shakes her head and lifts her gaze to the ceiling as if to say what’s a mother to do though, right?

“Fine by me,” Ashley says with a shrug, ringing up Emma’s purchase. “So that’ll be $6.15.”

Killian grimaces inwardly - this is a local place, and the prices are steep - but Emma doesn’t even flinch as she scans her card and then takes the receipt. She turns to Killian with a smile, holding out his to-go cup.

“I am in your debt,” he tells her.

Emma rolls her eyes and waves her hand. “Are you kidding? We’re even now.”

Killian racks his brain for a way to prolong this little encounter, but before his mind can connect to his vocal chords, Emma turns to the bar that holds the cream, sugar, and various shakers of spices. He hovers, his brain still refusing to cooperate, as she removes the lid of her cup and shakes some cinnamon on the swirls of whipped cream inside. He practically jumps when she ends up breaking the awkward silence first.

“You see, I didn’t really mind adding your $2.50 to my order. That’s nothing in this place.” She snaps the lid back on her cup and turns to face him. “Let me guess, regular coffee, black?”

He nods, a smile curling his lips as he takes a sip of said coffee. “Aye. And yours is?”

“Hot chocolate, actually. Most expensive thing on the menu besides the pastries, which is just unfair, in my opinion.”

Their gazes connect over the rims of their cups, and Killian catalogues the new information. She prefers hot chocolate over coffee, with whipped cream and cinnamon.

“That doesn’t happen to you often, does it?” she asks.

“Forgetting my wallet?”

“No, your charm not working.”

Killian tilts his head back and laughs. Then he saunters closer to her, bends his head, and lowers his voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She doesn’t seem to be visibly affected by his flirting in the least. Instead, she tosses him a casual smirk, one eyebrow arching. “Perhaps I would.”

His heart hammers in his chest as he searches her eyes. This woman is a bloody marvel. He had seen it even when she was falling apart in his office, and it’s even clearer now when she’s the one in control. His gaze falls to her lips, and he can’t help wetting his own. Abruptly, she clears her throat and takes a step back.

“I . . . uh, I really need to get back to my stuff.”

She hurries over to a table by the window and starts gathering up a laptop and some books and papers. A highlighter marker falls off and rolls across the floor. Killian picks it up and hands it to her.

“Thanks,” she mutters, color staining her cheeks.

“Work?”

“Uh, no,” she stammers, tucking hair behind both ears, “it’s school. My current job sucks, quite frankly, so I’m trying to get my degree.”

“That’s admirable,” Killan tells her sincerely. “In what?”

“Dental hygiene,” she wrinkles her nose adorably. “I know that’s stupid.”

Killian frowns. “Why in the world would you say that?”

Emma shrugs. “I mean, who likes teeth?”

He arches both brows as he bites down on his lower lip. “I can think of some reasons people would.”

She rolls her eyes again and smacks him in the arm. “You know what I mean!”

They both laugh then as he rubs at his arm exaggeratedly. “Okay, seriously, dentists like teeth. I mean, I assume they do.”

Emma shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, maybe some, but mostly I think they just know it will make them lots of money.”

“And that’s why you want to be a dental hygienist?”

Emma lifts her messenger bag and loops it over her shoulder. “I don’t need to be rich, but secure would be nice. I want to give Henry a good life, you know? And dental hygiene is steady work, steady pay, and good hours.”

Emma doesn’t seem to mind when Killian walks beside her as they leave the coffee shop.

“You’re a good mother, Emma. I still fail to see where any of that is stupid.”

She hitches the bag further up her shoulder, then takes another sip of her hot chocolate. “I don’t know. Aren’t I supposed to be studying something I’m passionate about? Instead, I’m being completely pragmatic. All I need for this career is an associate’s degree, which will take way less time and money.”

“I think we put way too much pressure on people to find a career - a passion, as you say. At the end of the day, a job is pragmatic. We need money to live, and a job gives us that.”

“Is that why you became an accountant?” Emma tilts her head and studies him as she asks the question. “You don’t seem the type. No offense.”

He scratches behind his ear. “None taken. And yes, I make good money at it, so that’s part of it. Liam and I went our entire childhood barely surviving, so we both vowed to change that when we were old enough.”

“I get that,” Emma mutters into her cup of hot chocolate. Killian wonders at the comment, but doesn’t press her.

“I do like numbers, though, so does Liam. We both excelled at that when we were in the Navy, and . . .” he shook his head. “It’s a dull story. We’ll just use the cliche the rest is history.”

Emma laughs, a free and easy thing in the early spring air, and Killian wants to hold onto it. For some reason, he gets the impression it’s a rare sound from her.

“I suppose going to school for accounting is about as interesting as dental hygiene.”

“Well, then, here’s to making a living,” he tells her cheerfully, extending his coffee cup.

She taps it with her cup of cocoa. “To making a living.”

They both sip, the air becoming charged again as their gazes linger. Then Emma glances over his shoulder, and her eyes light up.

“Flowers!”

She hurries over to the sidewalk display and picks up a bunch of snowdrops. “These are Mary Margaret’s favorite,” she said with a smile.

“Really? Elsa loves them too,” Killian says, gently touching a delicate white blossom. “Who is Mary Margaret?”

“My sister,” Emma tells him, her smile fond, “foster sister, technically. Eva and Leopold adopted me when I was twelve and Mary Margaret was sixteen. I was a terror, let me tell you.”

“You had been through a lot of pain, I’m sure.”

Emma studies him for a moment, slight surprise lighting her eyes. “Yeah, I had . . . but the three of them loved me anyway. And now, well, Mary Margaret is both my sister and my best friend. She and Eva both watch Henry for me while I work and study.”

“What about Leopold?”

Emma buries her nose in the snowdrops, “He passed away when I was still in high school.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Emma gives her head a quick shake. “The point is, Mary Margaret and Eva are both the absolute best. I don’t know what I would do without them. David’s not bad either, I guess.” She chuckles fondly.

“David?” He assumes by her laughter that he isn’t a boyfriend. Please don’t let him be a boyfriend.

“Mary Margaret’s husband. They’re newlyweds and completely nauseating.”

Killian treasures each tiny nugget of Emma’s life and files it carefully away. He wants to know so much more. How did she come to have Henry? Why is she raising him alone? What pain was she forced to endure those first twelve years of her life? Though he can imagine that last one fairly well. He and Liam had spent nearly that long shuffled from home to home after their mother’s death, Brennan Jones never wanting to take responsibility for his sons.

“I want to buy these for Jones & Jones,” Emma tells him, “as a thank you.”

“We’ve told you that it was no trouble. Besides, you bought my coffee, remember?”

Emma shakes her head. “I’ve been meaning to come by with flowers all week, but I was just too embarrassed. Please let me.”

Killian nods, albeit a bit reluctantly. He guesses that Emma is on a tight budget. She said her job sucks, and she’s caring for a toddler while also putting herself through school. He’s sure the small family she mentioned helps when they can, but still, she already spent over six dollars at the coffee shop, thanks to him. However, he can already see that she is a lass of great pride. He doesn’t want to insult her by refusing the gift.

Emma purchases the flowers, and then she walks with him the rest of the way to Jones & Jones. Elsa exclaims over the flowers just as Killian expected her to, even enveloping Emma in a hug. Ariel hugs her too and asks about Henry. Even Liam is lured away from his desk, and he ends up showing off pictures of little Ian to Emma. He and Elsa swap funny stories about raising a three year old, and before long, an hour has passed.

“Oh my God,” Emma suddenly gasps, “what time is it?”

“Almost five,” Elsa tells her.

“Shit, I’ve gotta go. Mary Margaret is expecting me soon, and Henry gets cranky when dinner is late.”

Killian stands there like an idiot as Emma rushes out in a whirlwind, leaving her now cold hot chocolate on the edge of Killian’s desk.

“Please tell me you asked her out this time,” Liam says once the door has shut behind her.

Killian groans. He didn’t even get her number.

“Maybe you’ll run into her again?” Ariel suggests, but there isn’t much faith in her voice.

Not that Killian blames her for her doubt. Fate gave him a second chance, and he doesn’t hold out much hope that it will give him a third.

#cs #cs ff #modern au #first meeting #and second meeting?#mommy!emma #single mom emma #little henry #fluff #humor

65 notes · View notes

aesterea · 3 years

Note

are the guardians your ocs! they seem really cool can we learn more about them?

they are, and thank you!! also, aren’t mary’s edits @thewinedarksea just some of the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen? i am so deeply and ecstatically honored she’s doing this series for me 💙💙💙

the Guardians belong to the mythology i created for the fantasy world in my main project, the Arcane Elements Cycle. they are definitively not gods, but they come pretty damn close. historically, they were extremely powerful magicians who ruled the world a few thousand years ago. they are generally referred to by their English names, but i’m going to provide their titles in the language of the AEC world as well. a quick overview of the history:

the Enchantress (aka Ereshezania, Queen of Gold, or just Ezania, Golden) was the greatest magician to ever have lived, and she lived for a very long time. she was a warrior queen who united the entire world of AEC into an Empire that endures to this day. to help maintain this place, she personally selected twelve special magicians and appointed them as Guardians over specific things— not places, but aspects of life and living. the Guardians were insanely powerful beings, both in terms of magical ability and what they had the freedom to do with those abilities. their reign is remembered as the golden age of this world, but it was as much a time of terror as it was a time of glory, and for that reason, it ended in copious amounts of bloodshed. the Guardians did not simply fall, they were destroyed. for that reason, a lot of their history has been lost and much confusion has arisen as to who the actual legitimate twelve were, what they did, what they were really like, etc. there are countless legends, but it’s become difficult to discern what is true. i really enjoy playing with that!

the Wishkeeper was definitely one of the original twelve (fun fact: she was the first one i created). her name in their language, Whitje, translates to Wish. she presided over the Garden of Wishes, supposedly hidden in the sky, where she tended to flowers representing the hopes and dreams of people on earth. it was her duty to determine when someone had earned their wish and how that wish should be granted, if at all. she was the closest thing Ezania had to a successor, and she is the most prominent figure of folk lore in the AEC world. people tend to talk about her as if she’s still around (“don’t let the Wishkeeper hear you!”, “Whitje herself couldn’t make me happier/bring me down”, etc.), though very few people actually believe that. she’s associated with duty, fate, responsibility, and wisdom.

Night and Day alternated watching over the world. their Ezni names translate simply to Night-Carrier and Light-Carrier. Night was a gentle figure, kind, compassionate, and steady. Day was selfish, fickle, and casually, carelessly cruel. he is trust, she is betrayal. he is privacy and mystery, she is fame and celebrity. he is promises and intimacy, she is frenzy and festivity. he is the secret-keeper, she exposes everything. he is the Guardian of dedication and things that endure, she is the Guardian of bright and fleeting joys. i wrote this piece about Day years ago and it’s still one of my favorite things i have ever done. in my head, Day is always laughing. always baring her teeth. Night is hopelessly in love with her.

Mischief was a terror of a sorcerer who delighted in preying upon Ezania’s lower enemies, hunting and capturing and killing, and whatever other kinds of fun he wanted to have with them in between. his Ezni name is something like Deathly Shadow. he’s fun, but i don't actually have much to say about him except in relation to his lover, Beauty.

Beauty is one of my favorites. she is commonly thought of as the Guardian of love and lovely things— romance and affection and attraction and friendship and charm, flowers and perfumes and whatnot— but this is a misinterpretation. her name in the Ezni language translates to Ravisher. in her time, she was known to be phenomenally cruel. “love and lovely things” were indeed within her jurisdiction, but they were side pieces to her true focus, the extremes of human experiences. the original Guardian Beauty had more to do with pleasure and pain, terror and devotion, fury and euphoria, every form of sensation, and every overwhelming emotion, all to the brink of madness.

Beauty and Mischief made… quite a pair, as I’m sure you can imagine. They were friends of Delusion, who is probably my actual favorite. his Ezni name is close to Misleader, but Delusion actually suits him quite well. he had this carnival-type thing where he would lure in specific targets and then put them through hell and back to teach them some important lessons and transform them into new, supposedly “better” versions of themselves. you know, break them down so they can rebuild, become something stronger or smarter or wiser. Delusion is the Guardian of madness and everything beyond it. he is associated with dreams and illusions, trickery and manipulation, but also fun and games and play, personal growth and self-discovery. (side note: this is one of Mary’s coolest edits, she put a ton of work into finding pictures and recoloring them to get that purple congruency, and i am in such awe)

Mirage was called Mirja, which is actually pretty close. Mirror may be slightly more accurate. she was a lifelong martyr, a little in love with her own destruction. a devotee, a worshipper, a willing victim to the others. she was probably not a true Guardian but rather a servant. i repeat that the Guardians were not gods, but her reverence of them was very religious. she believed she was serving humanity at large by serving them. she’s mainly associated with sacrifice and service, but also devotion and peace/patience in the midst of suffering. if Delusion represents a person’s breaking point, Mirage is the acceptance that comes after.

Deepwater (or, The Warning of the Deep) ruled the underwater world and was especially associated with the most dangerous places in the ocean. you know that feeling of dread and foreboding you get when learning about the horrors of the deep sea? that’s Deepwater. another name i’ve considered for her is Devastation. she was… not friendly. she would wreck ships that mildly annoyed her. she would just call it justice lol. The Drowned Princess was her captive lover, a young woman who called to her for help while drowning in her waters, and she answered by… not really saving her, but keeping her in a state of not-dead. Deepwater was extremely protective and possessive of her, and allowed her to visit land only once a year, and only a specific island where she was in the company of siren-like creatures ruled by Beauty.

there are many others, but we’ll end this with the Siren (i think this is one of the most beautiful moodboards i’ve ever seen). the Siren has existed in my head for a long, long time, but i only recently included her in the AEC world. she represents loss and grief (the water), and lostness, aloneness, and longing (singing), but also hope and imagination (stars). she is very, very dear to me.

#wow this got long lol i hope it was worth the wait!!#aec #aec: guardians #replies

12 notes · View notes

lilliannelson · 4 years

Text

Maybe, Definitely

Summary: Reader is a long time guest at the Holmes’ Estate. They have been associated with the family for years. One conversation leads to a whole new outlook on the life they thought they knew.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Trigger Warning: Just fluff

A/N: Most definitely going to continue with a jump ahead in time. Let me know your thoughts!!

You had been staying at the Holmes’ Estate for a few weeks; a tradition that began 5 years before. You had entered society as a young lady and became acquainted with the youngest Holmes, Enola. To say you kept this tradition going for nothing more than the company of Enola and her elder brothers, was simply not at all truthful. While Mycroft made your blood boil more than you can count, and Enola being one of your best companions, your eyes always seemed to flitter towards Sherlock. He had many rungs to his social ladder but currently his consulting agency was thriving in the ever-crazy London Town. As intelligent as he is, he had rare moments of conversation with anyone other than his siblings. It seemed that he couldn’t be bothered by anyone else, which was a positive to the fact his business was blooming. He didn’t have to stay here all the time.

Right now, you’re walking about the large study of which held all of the best novels you could get your hands on in this day and age. You glance up and spot him. He’s tall, very tall. And he has the most gorgeous head of dark curls you have ever seen. You have been observing him from a far for a while. You couldn’t help but wonder what he would say next or if he would even give you the time of day.

‘There he is,’ you think, stopping yourself with the book you’re currently reading in hand looking out the large bay window to see him walking up the drive.

You blink and knock yourself out of the trance you were in. He may be opinionated and gorgeous, but you were better than that to drop yourself to his level. No man was ever worth it.

You continue to walk out the large French-style doors to the wooden swing that hung from your favorite tree in the side yard. The gardeners had done so well this year and the flowers that lined the path that led to your spot was exceptionally darling this time of year. Autumn was your favorite season, after all.

You sit on the swing and get lost in the book. Hours seem to have rolled by as the sun was on the brink of setting. You stretch and yawn as you suddenly realize your surroundings. You feel a set of eyes on your back. An intuition you’d grown to enjoy. You slowly swivel around to see him looking at you. You give him a shy smile and can see him capture his bottom lip with his teeth; a sort of kryptonite to you. As you stand, wiping off the front of you from some invisible outdoor dander, you walk towards him. He stands with his hands in his pockets. You suddenly feel the urge to run, but it subsides as you draw in closer to him.

“Hello,” his deep voice fills your ears.

“Hi,” you greet him back.

“I seem to always find you outside these days. What book are you reading?” You show him the book, a book of poems that he most likely has not read. “Never read that one.” ‘Ha, I knew it,’ you think.

“It’s good to switch up the type of writing sometimes.”

“Yes, it is.” His blue eyes keep your hazel ones, “Listen, I’m having dinner tonight, and I’d love it if you joined me.”

“What time?” Who were you and why were you accepting? Lowering yourself to his level was, again, something you didn’t want to do. But, it made sense to go to dinner with him, since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Your stomach rumbled as if on command.

“Right now, actually.” He grins, “Your stomach just gave you away.”

You match his grin, “It has. Shall I change?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t believe so. It’s just you and I.”

You feel a shade of pink flush your cheeks at the realization. But of course you knew it was just the two of you. His siblings and everyone else had already eaten. “Lead the way, then.”

——————————————————————————

You sit across from him at the large wooden dining room table. An extravagant floral arrangement was placed on the table prior to you two sitting down. He moves it over, allowing both of you to be able to meet eyes once more. He’d began to speak about a book he had read last week, and then the conversation moved to you.

“What would you like to know about me?” You take a dainty bite of the meal.

He sips his wine, “Everything.” You spot the grin he’s making behind his glass. This causes you to raise your eyebrow at him, looking down to your plate but also a small grin forms on your lips.

“I’m surprised you haven’t already come to one of your conclusions about me yet.” A little jab at him, but he pressed on.

“Where do you see yourself? The next 5 years?”

“That’s rather deep.”

“If you’d rather not answer, that’s quite alright. I can ask you something else.”

You grab the glass of wine, taking a big gulp before beginning, “Five years? Why not the next year?”

“Because it’s the most generic question people ask to get to know someone. And because I’m sure you have a list of ideas. I would love to hear your thoughts instead of coming to a conclusion.”

“Okay, well... I’ve been trying to read everything I can. I want to educate myself as much as possible. I want to write a book. I want to go to university and get a degree. I want to be a teacher. I-“ you stop when you meet his eyes. He’s so enamored by you in this moment.

“What kind of teacher?”

“English. I want to see a child’s eyes light up when they learn to read and understand the meanings of words and sentences. I used to play Headmistress when I was a child. I didn’t have any friends, but I made them up in my head. Probably why I am such an odd one nowadays.”

“You’re not odd. You’re intelligent. And any child would be lucky to have you as their teacher. Where are you planning on getting a degree?”

“Oxford. I know that it will be difficult to get into any program there, but I’m very certain I can do it. I am fully capable.”

“Yes, yes you are.” A silence falls over your conversation as you recollect all you said, and his eyes stay on you.

“Thank you,” you say in a small voice.

His eyebrows raise quizzically, “Whatever for?”

“For not making my want to teach seem like a death sentence.”

“Whoever has given you that idea?”

You look down to the table, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Oh, my uncle. And Mycroft.”

“Of course they have. I should’ve known.”

You shrug, “It’s the times we are living. I expect it most of the time. I can tune it out, it’s just tough sometimes.”

“If it helps any, Mycroft has always been that arrogant and self absorbed to the point he will do anything to raise his status.”

“It doesn’t, but thank you for trying.” You feel tears threatening to form in your eyes. After a beat, you blink them away, “How’s business in London?”

Sherlock frowns slightly, “It’s going. I’ve picked up quite a few new cases. Nothing too important yet, though.”

“I’m sure something will come up.”

“I hope so. I would hate to have to hang up the practice before its prime.”

“But it brings you joy. I have never seen someone so intricately indulge into their craft like you. I’m sure you’re the first one anyone at Scotland Yard thinks of when cases come in.” You look down bashfully when you see him gaping at you.

“I didn’t know you paid that much attention to me.” His grin exposes a dimple. He looks shy.

“You’re Sherlock Holmes. How is that possible?”

“When it comes to my personal life, I tend to refuse to sink into any inklings I may have. I’m much better at helping others, if that makes sense.”

You nod, “It does.”

“You pay this kind of attention to everyone else?”

“Only the ones that are intriguing to me.”

“And what about me is intriguing?” His voice is low.

“Your knowledge, your composure, your personality.” You take another gulp of your wine, calming down your growing pulse, “I like observing you in your natural habitat.”

“Why?”

“Because you act like you don’t have feelings, but it shows in the way you present yourself. The slight grin you get on your face when someone outsmarts you regarding something you were sure no one else could. The other day when Mycroft was sure to prove me wrong, and I told him off, you had this look on your face...” You quickly change your tone, “I will never not laugh at his reaction.”

Sherlock has leaned forward, as if having to prove he was paying attention to you, but his eyes are semi-glazed over as if lost in thought.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” That knocks him out of his daze.

“Did I say too much?”

“No, no. I don’t believe you said too much at all.”

“Shall I continue?”

“Please.”

“I do believe your attachment to Enola is very sweet. She is just like you. She idolizes you, more than she lets on to your face.”

“She does?”

Nodding, you continue, “She and I are friends, after all. She and Mycroft make the air very tense when they are around each other, but when she’s in any room with you, it’s very calm. You’d think it would be the opposite, because you both are attentive, but that’s not the case.”

“You are very good at paying attention.”

“It’s my gift. I tune into energy and gut-instinct. I’ve learned to read people over the years.”

“Sounds very similar to my line of work, can I observe you sometime?”

“Yeah, any time.” You feel timid. But he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

He clears his throat, “Let me escort you back to your rooms.”

————————————————————————————————————————————

He walks you through the house, seemingly knowing the route you use even though the wing you’re in is opposite his. You watch him through your peripheral and catch him with his gaze on you more than once. Occasionally as you walk side by side, your hand grazes his but you notice he doesn’t tense up or show any signs of displeasure.

You arrive at your doorway, going inside to the sitting area. You weren’t used to having anyone other than Enola visiting you, so you tidy as you walk around. You hear a chuckle come from Sherlock, making you turn towards him.

You grin to yourself. “Please, have a seat if you’d like,” you gesture towards the chair to his right. He sits. You pace before sitting opposite him. You feel something looming in the air, like there are some unspoken truths, but Sherlock breaks your thoughts.

“Would it be too untoward if I tell you that you are intriguing, too?”

“I am?”

Sherlock nods, “You present yourself unlike any other young woman I have encountered. It’s nice to see you speak up and be unfiltered from time to time.”

“You pay attention to me?”

“Of course.”

“But how come it never felt like that?”

“I don’t follow...” his voice trails off as your eyes link.

You stand up, “It felt, in some ways, that my presence wasn’t allowed. No, not allowed, just you seemed above it all.” You scoff, “Somehow, I’ve always felt invaluable to you. And I always refused to let it bother me because I am a woman and I am better than that. To let a man’s opinion of myself get to me would be against everything I’ve learned in the past. But again, it bothers me. I guess I’m not as good as I thought.” You walk to your drink cart and pour yourself a glass of wine, gulping it down, “So to hear that you notice do notice me, well, that’s a lot.”

Sherlock stands and walks towards you, “I was unaware. You never made any gesture to feeling this way.”

“How would I when your actions...” you take a breath. “There’s been a miscommunication.”

“Yes, there has.” Sherlock pours himself a glass of wine, sipping it delicately.

You lock eyes again, “So what do we do now?”

“I’ve never been one to speak of...feelings. But I care for you, deeply. I believe we are going to need to speak up. And perhaps there won’t be any more miscommunications.”

You catch yourself grinning like an idiot, “I care about you, too.” You reach a hand up and caress the side of his face; he leans into your touch.

#Sherlock Holmes x reader #Enola Holmes #story #writing #please forgive formatting again #be gentle #enjoy #Sherlock Holmes reader insert #reader self insert

164 notes · View notes

andsheloved · 2 years

Note

MADELINE your meme made me laugh out loud i was OVERJOYED to read that hahaha thank you !!

anyway pet names, i completely agree with geralt & nature, (petal was SO CUTE btw i was screaming the whole way through) i can imagine him using flower or blossom too!!!

i can hear bucky saying doll or maybe sunshine for sure, but also jaskier with “my love”????? (basically the same kinda vibe as the spanish endearment “mi vida” which means “my life”!!)

but what makes me YELL, madeline, is imagining loki + “my beloved” </3333

-🌻

🌻 my dear!! hello!! i hope you are doing so well and taking care of yourself!! mwauh!! i am sO glad you enjoyed my meme that brings me much joy that you liked it please take this forehead kiss :)

buT YEAH i just- i love pet names that are kind of related to an aspect of that person's personality or their environment, (and thank you 🥺🥺 petal is one of my most favorite things i've written and i'm so glad people seemed to enjoy it :') my heart) and especially a pet name referring to something so fragile and delicate like blossom of flower, with such a 😡 man like geralt warms my heart so much!!

okay this is getting kind of long so let me put some of this under the cut for extra yearning

very off topic but geralt + petal/blossom/flower + obi wan or din djarin + stardust if that makes any sense?? i don't know but the vibes the vibes are there.

okay but... bucky with sunshine.... i think about that at least once a day. in my brain it's just sort of like, he's kind of winter-y and you melt his heart so it's like !!! sunshine !!! and i'm sobbing.

aND JASKIER???? YOUR BRAIN YOUR MIND YOU ARE SO INTELLIGENT FOR THAT ONE!!!! i have been searching my brain for a jaskier pet name (i don't know why i've been in such a jaskier mood recently, who knows) and that one is just so simple and perfect, i was trying to find a music themed one but i honestly think 'my love' is so perfect and like, you're the embodiment of all his love :') and 'my life'.... cus his music is his life... and you inspire him.... so subsequently... you're his life... i am going to cry now.

aND YOU KNOW WHAT 🌻 YOU ARE SO RIGHT YOU ARE SO CORRECT 'my beloved' IS THE LOKI PET NAME, it's so soft. he's so soft. it also makes me yell so much, i feel like he's seen as such a cold and distant guy and then 'my beloved' is so warm and tender, brb gotta go wipe my tears.

this is absolute yearning material so thANK YOU!!! you are amazing my dear and i hope you have an amazing rest of your day/night!! mwauh!!

tell me your favorite characters & what pet name you associate with them!

#oh i am sorry this got so long #but the y e a r n #i cry #madeline loves 🌻 anon!#madeline plays asks!#madeline answers!#fic inspo #long post

2 notes · View notes

murielisbestmountain · 4 years

Note

How would a scenario go with Muriel who is all pouty and huffy about the apprentice who is being affectionate with all the arcana pets/familiars

Muriel x Reader - gender neutral reader, VERY jealous boi Muri, fluff, I’d like to elect Faust as president of everything.

“Oh lovely lady,” (y/n)’s voice cuts through the air like a hot knife through cheese. Muriel’s head whipping around to stare as the young apprentice tenderly combs through Chandra’s feathers with one hand. Fingers dance over the lovely owl’s head as the magical young person praises her.

“Hmph,” The mountain man grumbles, staring jealously at the owl as she poofs up in pride. Of course, the man would never admit this to himself, he’ll barely accept that he even loves the beautiful apprentice.

“Is something wrong, dear?” (y/n) hums, turning to their darling in concern. The man sputters for a moment, blushing violently and looking away. (y/n) continues to pet the owl, smoothing out her lovely pink feathers.

“Nothing,” Muriel grumbles, not wanting to admit he’s jealous of a bird of all things. The oblivious apprentice huffs, turning back and letting Chandra fly off into the distance

Things like this just keep happening. Some random lucky animal will come by and get to rest in the arms of the graceful apprentice. Of course, since his time spent on the whirlwind adventure to the South, Muriel had only fallen further in love with the sweet city dweller. Everything about (y/n) had captured his large, soft heart. Even their flaws seemed to radiate an aura of something to love.

Oh how torturous each day is, watching their sweet face smile as they embrace each moment as though it were a gift from above. Such warmth is then directed to any and all animals that cross the magician’s path. From small critters cradled in the darling’s arms like babies of the woods to large beasts which wander in the way. How hard it is to hold back whining for their love, so he sticks to fantasy instead.

Muriel often catches his thoughts wandering to a place kept secret in his head. A “happy place” of sorts. A place where the sun is warm but the forests not too hot. The flowers bloom all the time, leaving the scent of honeysuckle and lilac drifting through the air. Further into the woods there is a clearing where his darling will cradle his head in their lap and feed him those sweets he learned he loved at the masquerade. Maybe even peppering kisses on his lips in between snacks. Inanna can lay by his side and enjoy the sweet spring breeze as well. Happy could be with the little family they’ve made.

Typically the mountain man would hate the doting, but this is a fantasy. And while he may be new to them, Muriel is very much aware that fantasies can be whatever one wants them to be. And if he wants to makeout with (y/n) in the forest then he can.

Of course, then there’s the nighttime dreams....

Visions of things so lewd they bring a bright blush to Muriel’s face at even the beginning of a thought about it. Visions of a silk-clad (y/n) bathed in moonlight, crying out lovingly for their partner as the duo waste the night away in the darkness. Skin so close and so warm that it’s hard to tell where his body ends and theirs begins. Their voice squeaking from repeating the same word over and over....

“Muriel~ Muriel~ Muriel~ Muri~ Muri~...”

“Muri? Muri??”

(y/n)’s silky voice drifts into Muriel’s mind as the apprentice waves their hand in front of his face.

“Hm?” The mountain man grunts, glaring over at his smaller partner. Of course, the gentle giant means no aggression by it, more confused than anything.

“You spaced out,” (y/n) chuckles, plopping down at the foot of a large oak tree. The palace gardens as beautiful as ever. The smell of flowers lingers in the air as the sun-soaked grass sways in the breeze. It doesn’t take long, though, before two bounding hounds round the corner, single red eyes glistening in the summer sun as they approach. Mercedes and Melchior bark joyously, plopping down at the apprentice’s coiled legs. Lovingly lapping at their hands as they pant loudly.

“What are those two mutts doing here?” Muriel huffs, typically the man would be kind towards all animals, but most anything associated with Lucio is met with scorn.

“They live here, gooey,” (y/n) sighs, patting the dogs on the noggin, “we’re in their home at the moment.” The giant sighs, sitting down and watching as (y/n) pets the canines.

“beep!” Pepi’s tiny voice cuts through the bushes, the small beast popping out of the shrubbery and into the magician’s lap. Muriel watches, brow furrowing deeper and deeper as the group of animals snuggle around (y/n)’s form. A caw croaks from nearby as Malak joins the fray, landing on the magician’s shoulder and snuggling up.

“This is ridiculous,” Muriel growls, arms crossed angrily as he stares at his partner.

“They’re just being affectionate,” (y/n) hums, scratching Malak’s feathers a bit before patting Pepi.

“but you’re not being that way towards me,” Muriel huffs internally, reminding himself that he isn’t an animal and thus doesn’t get the same treatment as one. The mountain man huffs, standing up and trying to shoo away the animals.

“Come on,” he growls, “Lets go home and get something to eat.” (y/n) nods, standing and grabbing onto Muriel’s hand firmly.

“Lead the way, handsome,” Something within Muriel puffs up in joy at the attention, letting the comment slip over his shoulders as he leads his tiny lover out of the palace and towards the edge of town.

They are, however, stopped just shy of escape from Vesuvia by a poof of white hair.

“(y/n)! Muriel!” The Magician grins, hands on his hips as he approaches the duo, “How are my favorite people?” Muriel glares, eyebrows furrowed in rage as he attempts to glare a hole through Asra’s forehead.

“We were just heading out,” Muriel huffs through gritted teeth, watching as Faust’s tiny purple head pokes out from Asra’s shirt collar. Poking the sweet baby on the nose, (y/n) smiles as the serpent nuzzles gently into their palm.

“Oh really,” Asra hums, hands on his hips as he looks between his friends, “where ya off to?” (y/n) smiles in return, their eyes squinting a bit at the squoosh of their cheeks.

“Muriel’s, for lunch ya know,” they explain, still petting Faust and keeping all their attention on the serpent.

“Oh!” Asra looks up at Muriel, “Inanna is asleep in the shop, do you want me to get her?” Muriel’s eyes widen, the idea of sharing his sweetheart with even his best four-legged friend seeming like a herculean task at this point.

“That’s okay,” Muriel quickly snaps, hand gripping (y/n)’s tighter. The aforementioned person leans over, pressing their soft lips to Faust’s head tenderly.

“Thats it.” Muriel snarls internally, jealousy rearing its ugly head as he glares down at his adorable person laying their precious affection on everything but him.

“Muri you okay?” Asra asks, looking up with a concerned yet knowing look in his eyes.

“I’m actually not feeling well,” Muriel grunts, reaching over and flinging (y/n) over his shoulder effortlessly, “I need (y/n) to fix it.” And with that, the mountain man storms off, ignoring the protests of a very flustered (y/n) as he walks into the forest. Long, muscular legs carry him and his partner into the woods, the image of the secluded hut lingering in his mind as Muriel storms further in.

“Muriel!!” (y/n) squeaks indignantly, blushing like mad and squirming, “Muri Muri Muri!!!” A smile stretches over the man’s lips, hugging (y/n)’s body close as he walks.

“That’s right,” An odd sense of delight fills the massive man as he approaches the hut, hearing his name stirring...several feelings in his stomach. “It’s my turn to take your attention.”

Ducking into the small space, Muriel takes little to no time before tossing his beloved onto the fur-coated bed. An indignant squeak leaving their lips as Muriel closes the door and pauses to take his shoes off.

“What’s all this about, Muri??” (y/n) huffs, blushing indignantly as the muscular man comes over, climbing into bed and unceremoniously laying on top of the small magician.

“Mmmm,” Too frustrated for words, the man’s calloused hands grab onto (y/n)’s wrists and guide them to his hair, “P-Pet...me...” Realization dawns on (y/n) as they begin running their fingers through Muriel’s hair.

“Aw,” They coo, nuzzling the giant man’s shoulder, “Did you just want some love?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Muriel huffs, blowing hot air over (y/n)’s neck with the action.

“Well considering you dragged me kicking and screaming into the forest?” (y/n) chuckles, massaging Muriel’s scalp, “I’m guessing Asra is going to make some assumptions about what you’ve done to me.” The gentle giant groans softly, eyes rolling as he hugs (y/n) close. A blush streaks over Muriel’s face at the thought of all the things that could be done now that the two of them are alone.

“Then I guess we have plenty to do.”

“What did you say?”

“N-Nothing! I said nothing.”

#The arcana x reader #arcana x reader #arcana #the arcana #the arcana game #muriel #muriel x reader #muriel arcana

306 notes · View notes

virarosea · 3 years

Note

Random Edenian gods headcanons?

[ ask me anything! | always accepting ]

oh anon you have no idea how you've just enabled me I'm greedy and will ramble on forever so let me just give you some for three of my favorites for right now.

ISMANA

FC is Mishti Rahman. [x]

The most popular deity outside of Argus. She has the most widespread worship in Edenia.

Originally an Azai deity before the unification.

Adores her people. Rarely is she ever in her temples outside of designated times when she needs to be there because she is often out spending time among the public, roaming the streets as if she is one of them, though she always stands out and draws a crowd. Usually in Ivala or Avaloria.

Her symbolic colors are cerise and rose gold.

Cranes / egrets are associated with her and represent beauty in Edenian culture.

Unofficially regarded as the Goddess of Joy as well because of her demeanor. She's very beloved by most of the populace for her humble and compassionate nature.

If you invite her to the birth of your child she WILL come and will bring presents. She loves babies so much yes please invite her.

To invoke her when not at her temple, you must kiss the petal of a red rose dusted with sugar and whisper the name(s) of someone you truly love. Romantic, platonic, family, it doesn't matter, it just has to be true and not false or twisted. If you have no real love in your heart, she cannot hear you as there is nothing within you that speaks to her.

NEPHRITAI

FC is Ni Ni. [x]

She often considered the patron of women warriors in an unofficial capacity. Edenian warrior women and assassins often wear masks to honor Nephritai, and the tradition started with her.

Originally an Azai deity.

As the Goddess of Death, she has one main temple that doubles as a Necropolis located within the city that bares her namesake. It is the largest burial place in all of Edenia; a place for the honored dead.

She is considered to be a dark goddess, but not particularly malevolent or evil. She represents the more unpleasant half of the cycle of life, and her favor for brutality in kombat make her less palatable as a figure of worship, but she is typically revered.

While she is the Goddess of Brutality, she has a distaste for dishonorable actions in kombat. That being said, her idea of what "dishonorable actions" are differs greatly from that of her brother. While her brother has distaste for underhanded maneuvers, cheap hits, poisons, and other such tactics, Nephritai sees it all as fair game. To her, there is no such thing as a fair fight, as no two people can be perfectly matched, thus it must all be allowed. Let a person use the entirety of their arsenal, including their wit, to earn victory. In kombat, anything goes, and you only dishonor yourself when you reject the outcome your actions have earned you and refuse the consequences of your success or failure.

She and Zhao Doa were once one being that split into two because their opposing natures were too strong to contained within a single person and they were constantly at war within themselves, never able to fulfill their purpose. Thus, their mother separated them into two different people to maintain balance.

Her symbolic colors are black and gold. The Edenian black lotus is a sacred flower to her.

To invoke her, you must best someone in kombat and smear their blood upon a black lotus, then cast the lotus into a fire. (You don't have to kill your opponent to do this. Just give them a little knick. It only takes a drop.)

She named her city after herself. Yes, that was all her doing. She's extremely prideful.

Her Necropolis is made from pure gold. There is an arena in the center, and her private dwelling is located below the surface.

You can only ask her for a blessing or a private audience if you earn victory in her arena. Fatality not required but welcome.

Highkey she's my favorite shhhh

ZHAO DOA

FC is Yibo Wang. [x]

Totally in love with Ismana. And she loves him back but they can't be together because the major Edenian deities aren't allowed to form romantic relationships within the pantheon. Minor deities can get away with it, but the big ones can't. This rule exists because of the Titan Tyrgran's relationship with the now exiled Gillitian goddess Ostara (a character created by the lovely @duchesstart !) and the cataclysm those two caused. Pretty much everyone but Argus is aware that Zhao Doa and Ismana are in love, though, and they would prefer to keep it that way. No one else really gives a fuck and they all kind of think the rule is a unfair so no one has snitched thus far. Tragic, really.

He’s seen as a heroic figure. The goodest “good guy” in the pantheon perhaps. He is the subject of many stage productions and heroic ballads.

Has a bit of a rivalry with Heulhan based on ideological differences. It’s all in good fun, for the most part.

Founded the original Order of the Emerald Knights, the protectors of the Edenian throne.

Originally an Azai deity.

Symbolic colors are white and silver. He is often associated with falcons and falcon imagery.

To invoke him, you must polish a silver coin until it is spotless and use it to buy a loaf of bread. You must give a portion of that loaf to a beggar and then eat what you kept. If you gave the beggar a smaller portion than your own, nothing will happen, but if you give them a portion equal to or larger than your own, Zhao Doa will appear to you in your dreams the next time you sleep.

He and his sister Nephritai oversee all official kombat activities related to major Edenian holidays.

Like his sister, he is considered a patron of warriors, but unlike Nephritai, his primary following does not skew towards any particular gender.

#[asks]#[anon]#[edenia]#thank you nonny! I'll ramble about the other later slfjk #(others*)#ismana is a sweetheart #nephritai is a Bad Bitch #and zhao doa is a Good Boi

11 notes · View notes

historic-old-guard-lover · 3 years

Note

The emperor has to be god-king Andy. Also like since nicky and Joe obv have to have the lovers why not have andy and quyhn kissing as the empress.

Another related ask (potentially by the same person):

Also since the fool is a journey's beginning I'd almost want to pick Nile for it. As well there are four characters who commonly have swords (or an axe but close enough) and cards have four corners. So one sword each corner, nicky, joe, andy, and quyhn.

So. Someone has good ideas. Here’s the post that prompted these asks. This made me pull out my tarot deck and go through the cards. Below the cut is a break down of the entire tarot deck. There will be an explanation of the (standard) interpretation of the cards, good then less good, and then my associated headcannon (or more than one if I couldn’t decide). The source is my experience with tarot. I’m trying to minimize repeats, but historic and modern Old Guard members are counted separately. Enjoy.

The Major Arcana (aka the cards most people have heard about)

0. The Fool - the seeker. Naivety. Courage. Living in the moment. Journey’s beginning. All paths available. Folly. Apathy.

Nile. Anon convinced me. Though Booker has got the folly, apathy, and madness down, Nile is ultimately the beginning. She’s naïve but headstrong, and quite frankly a perfect match.

I. The Magician - the trickster. Power, skill, talent. Mastery, self-control, willpower. Subtlety. Divine connection and inspiration. Self-reliant.

Modern Nicky. Definitely Nicky. Just. He’s a formerly very religious man who just says these things. Also sniper.

II. The High Priestess - the moon goddess. Intuition, wisdom, foresight, divination, prophecy. Enlightenment, understanding, intelligence, education. Pride, emotional instability, unforgiving.

Historic Quynh. Her name means “night-blooming flower”, which is very moon goddess vibes to me. Also, I’d say over 500 years in a box turns understanding and enlightenment into emotional instability and unforgiveness.

III. The Empress - the queen. Feminine power, matriarch, mother. Fertility, pleasure, beauty. Success, evolution, movement. Marriage, wealth. Overattachment, domestic upheaval, delay.

Quynh. The counterpart to Andy’s emperor card.

Nile. Let’s be honest, she’s going to take over from Andy some day.

IV. The Emperor - the king. Masculine power, patriarch, father. Authority, leadership, proficiency. Wealth, stability, effectiveness. Perseverance, logic, endurance, experience. Lack of ability, weak character, immature, rebellious.

Modern Andy. She is the leader who’s short-comings effect her entire team. And who doesn’t love a little gender bending? (and her film look is already soft butch)

V. The Hierophant - the religious leader. Tradition, convention, ritual symbolism. Ceremony, religion, morality, philosophy. Mercy, goodness, forgiveness, humility, vulnerability, Impotence, Religious tyranny.

Historic Nicky. I mean, former priest (enough said).

Historic Andy. “I was once worshipped as a god” (enough said).

VI. The Lovers - the lovers. Love, attraction. Compatibility, harmony, choice. Triumph over trials, vacillation. Entanglement, enmeshment. Infidelity, moral lapse, vice, separation, quarrels, inadequacy, failing tests.

Andromaquynh. *peeks out from behind barricade* I know that most people would just put Kaysanova as this card, but look at all the negatives it is associated with. Sounds a lot more like our immortal wives can really cover the gamut. They have the range....I am a sucker for Kaysanova, though. Even though the beginning of their relationship is rocky, I’d like to think it’s been fairly constant over the years. But let’s reverse the uhaul lesbians and fickle gay men tropes! Sorry, Book of Nile fans. That ship just isn’t established enough for this, I’d say. Maybe one day?

VII. The Chariot - the journey. Ordeal, obstacles, competition. High stakes, ambition, discipline. Conquest, victory, greatness. Right action prevails, overwhelming odds, sudden defeat.

Merrick and/or Dr. Kozak. I mean, this is literally their characters in a nutshell. Merrick is the journey/ordeal for the old guard. He is driven by his ambition, thinks he’s won over impossible odds, and then has a sudden defeat.

VIII. Justice - the balance. Equilibrium, equality, symmetry, harmony. Integrity, honor, fairness, neutrality, moderation. Vindication, self-righteousness, bigotry, prejudice, favoritism.

Nile. This is the woman with a sword card. She brings a balance to the team, she clearly moderates conflict, and I’d love to see BLM art of her in this style. Just sayin.

IX. The Hermit - the seeker-sage. Wisdom, inspiration, contemplation, discretion, understanding. Safety, protection, spiritual quest. Seeking truth and justice. Self-denial, timidity, fear.

Historic Joe. The idealized warrior poet? Definitely just a form of the hermit. Helps explain why a Magrebhi trader/artist fought at the Siege of Jerusalem: spiritual quest. I also like the idea of Joe having a secret reserved side.

X. The Wheel of Fortune - cycles of life. Destiney, evolution and progress, advancement. Manifestation, unexpected events. Success, sudden luck. Ups and downs.

Modern Quynh. There is nothing that better encapsulates her storyline than the wheel of fortune. One day you’re roaming the world with your immortal wife. The next, you’re drowning for over 500 years. The next you’re in Booker’s shitty Paris apartment.

XI. Strength - fortitude. Resilience, courage, resolve, confidence. Integrity, moral victory, endurance. Energy, action, vitality. Power, force, violence. Abuse of power, disgrace, impotence.

Lykon. Do I love this character beyong measure and reason? Maybe so. We have so little to go on about him, however, that the only things we do know bely his strengths. Also, he becomes ultimately the weakest when he dies and encapsulates both “extremes” of the card.

XII. The Hanged Man - the tested. Delay, sacrifice, abandonment, rejection. Betrayal. Reversals, restrained or bound, limbo, trials. Falseness.

Booker. If the fact that his first death was by hanging didn’t convince you? Read that description again. His character arc is literally working through being the hanged man.

XIII. Death - the loss or parting. Alteration, transformation, transition. Boredom, depression, stagnation, failure or disaster. Bereavement, recovery, immobility.

Lykon. He literally represents the fear of death to the remaining immortals. It is HE that they invoke when they discuss it. Also, I’m still mourning my favorite underdeveloped character.

XIV. Temperance - the moderation. Self-control, economy, patience, coordination. Consolidation, harmony, friendship, recuperation. Unfulfilled desires, discord, stubbornness, hostility, clashing of interests. Time, seasons, and climate.

A Safehouse. I don’t think any of the people really capture the tempered essence of this card, the constancy throughout all seasons of life. An actual physical building that rises and falls with (regular) humanity, though, seems to do the trick.

XV. The Devil - the arcane. Magic, strange occurrences, prophecy, fate. Catastrophe, downfall, negative attitude, Temptations, sins, obsessions. Enslavement, bondage, misplaced loyalty, violence, fatality.

Honestly? I’m so torn. I feel like a major commentary of the movie is that our demons are the way people react more so than the people themselves. Maybe the armored van?

XVI. The Tower - the House of God. Disruption, expulsion from an earthly paradise, divine wrath. Punishment (of pride), loss, destructive rivalry, plans ruined. Need to start again, bankruptcy.

The Iron Coffin. While this doesn’t capture the religious undertones quite right, the coffin is the Tower for Andromaquynh, It is (divine? or very human?) wrath brought on by pride since the two probably thought that they would be fine. It is loss and painful new beginnings.

XVII. The Star - the bright promise. Hope, faith, light of the spirit. Recovery, symbols of immortality. Gifts, good prospects, new dawn, frustrated expectations.

Nile. The new immortal, enough said.

Historic Andy/Lykon. In a way, the first immortal would also be a great choice of representation.

XVIII, The Moon - the hidden forces. Twilight, illusion, deception, trickery. Dishonesty, danger, uncertainty, terror. Developments, particularly somewhat concealed. Errors, powerful feelings.

Copley. I know, I know. “He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness” and all that jazz. But look at this card’s interpretation and notice it’s pretty negative. Copley’s entire role is to pull the strings behind the scenes. He makes headway on problems in secrets, he lies and deceives everyone in the film at some point.

XIX. The Sun - the work’s rewards. Daylight, co-creation, union “of male and female”. Peace, joy, pleasure, love, contentment. Accomplishment, achievement, success.

Joe. Not only is he the sun, he also fits this card perfectly. He is creation and happiness. Enough said.

XX Judgement - the rebirth. Judgement, sentence. Rejuvenation, renewal, resurrection, call to the new from the old, rehabilitation. Creation, promotion.

Historic Booker. I feel like his backstory with his family helped highlight the theme of rebirth for the Old Guard. They must be willing to give up what they have left behind to move forward. Also, there’s the more literal play as well since Booker was a conscripted criminal.

XXI The World - the long journey. Perfection, completion, conclusion. Power through intelligence and wisdom. The universe and the material world.

A group photo, of course! Beyond that? Who knows.

Historic Andy? She’s seen so much of it. Like just her eyes portray the history of the world.

The Minor Arcana (aka the rest of the cards)

Since most people are only familiar with the major arcana, I’ll just briefly explain it. The minor arcana are actually the majority of a tarot deck. There are four suits associated with the four elements. Each suit has ten number cards and four court/face cards (traditionally modelled either based on one person or different interpretations of similar costuming). Each number or face has its own meaning, each suit has its own meaning, and their combination mostly explains what the card should be interpreted as. Quite frankly, the minor arcana are vastly underrated in popular understandings of tarot.

Suit of Wands - fire. Spontaneity, action, passion, adrenaline, life force, stroke of genius.

Guns? It’d be a bit of a niche take, but I associate guns with fires.

Staffs? More traditional in shape.

Suit of Coins - earth. Solid growth, material interests, possessions, profit, business, labor, slow and considerate.

Historic currency. Enough said.

Suit of Cups - water. Heartfelt involvements, imagination, spirituality, love, friendship, family.

Fountains around the world. Enough said.

Suit of Swords - air. Worry, trouble, boundaries, objectivity, the power of truth.

Obviously, their weapons of choice. I would go into more detail about who best represents each number, but I don’t want to bore you.

Court of Kings - mature men. Leaders, authority, status-quo, taking responsibility.

Again, most tarot is very gendered. But members in tuxes?

Court of Queens - mature women. Reflective and active, concerned with security/foundations, supportive, focused.

Members in dresses/gowns/anything that glitters?

Court of Knights/Cavaliers - young men. Dynamic, adventurous, intensive, revolutionary.

Tactical gear. Or historical armor. But it’s easier to do tactical gear right than accidentally draw a 15th century helmet on a 14th century suit of armor.

Court of Knaves/Pages - younger women, teenagers, and children. Students, apprentices, trainees, messengers, new opportunities.

Casual clothes.

#asks #lovely anon #tarot #reference #niche headcannons #major and minor arcana #i really thought this would have more kaysanova #but tarot is for wlw i guess? who knows

19 notes · View notes

emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Text

A little exercise (Part 1/?)

(I’m trying out a new process to help me with my writing and to get me out of the block I’m currently in. I find that analyzing preexisting personalities and ones of my own devising help me better understand how characters will interact in my writing. So, I started small and outlined some of Fane’s major relationships. I’m eventually going to go down the whole list from family to Inquisition members, but right now, I just focused on family.)

Relationships:

“Friendships are like roses; you tend to their delicate petals, nurture their roots, and provide them with water, sunshine, and fertile soil to keep them satisfied, all so they may flourish with life and love. But what happens when the rose bush flowers from an innocent bud to a crimson bloom, bringing thorns in its wake? You bleed, you hurt, and you regret ever planting the seeds. So, do I desire a literal garden of people with thorns as sharp as glass? Not at all.”- Fane Lavellan regarding companionship

Clan Lavellan:

“Fane is brash, volatile, and temperamental at the best of times, Spymaster. You do not wish to see him at his worst. Many of our clan and the outlying forests have been met with his ire. Even so, he is not a bad child. None of his actions are vindictive or of ill intentions. Fane is simply misunderstood, like so many others. So, if you must demand more of him, then you must tread lightly. That is my advice to you and your Inquisition.” - an excerpt from a letter from Keeper Deshanna sent to Haven after the explosion at the Conclave regarding Fane’s demeanor

Fane is exceedingly slow to warm up to people, even with those of his own kind. Among Clan Lavellan, Fane was seen as an anomaly; his two toned eyes and stark white hair breeding fear and wariness in his clan members, as well as his unusual physique. What’s more, many of the clan avoided him for fear of triggering his volatile rage which, when at its peak, would render aravels or trees completely obliterated. So, as far as friends go, Fane never had many among his clan; only communicating with his sister, and at times, the Keeper. Fane’s disinterest in cultivating relationships also stems from his desire to keep the evidence of his father’s abuse away from prying eyes and ears. This did not stop him from attempting to bridge the gap between him and his people, however. At a young age, Fane proved to be an adept hunter; stealthy and graceful despite his hulking frame. Sadly, his effectiveness to provide did not win the hearts of his clan, since many of Fane’s methods were unorthodox to the Dalish. When such a simple attempt was ineffective, Fane took one last step to try and wedge himself into belonging; his vallaslin. Despite not believing in any of the elven gods (another pit that distanced him from the Dalish, as Fane is and was not shy to voice his opinions regarding them), Fane opted to have the vallaslin of Sylaise tattooed onto his face at the age of sixteen; only a year after his father’s magical experiments on his body began. Once again, this did not do what Fane had hoped for, since the ritual and implementation of the tattoos barely registered a flinch or grimace from the elf; his mind and body already so scarred and traumatized by the use of magic and physical tools that Fane merely viewed the sacred act as another experiment in which his father’s rules of “No crying, no screaming, no telling anyone” played on repeat within his head. Due to that stoicism, his clansmen simply began to view him as unfeeling and cold, some going so far as to call him a ‘snowy haired demon’. From that point on, Fane severed all association with his clan, and attempts to win favor were replaced with complete indifference. Interactions were kept to scouting missions and group hunts, and such things like gatherings or holidays, Fane spent either alone within the forest or with his sister. It may have been this rift of association that spurred the Keeper into choosing Fane for the mission to spy on the Conclave, or perhaps it was a way to help both Fane and the clan from anymore turmoil. However, when the explosion at the Conclave completely shifts his small world on its axis, Fane is more or less forced to traverse a battlefield in which he is outnumbered in both strength and personalities.

Mhairi Lavellan (Sister):

“First mother, then father..I can’t lose you, too, brother. I have no one else besides you for family.”

“Hmph, don’t be so dramatic, My. Even if something were to happen to me, the clan would still be here for you. The clan’s your family as much as I am.”

“The clan is your family, too, brother. Why do you think they don’t care for you like I do?”

“Because they don’t. I’m a monster, remember? They’re all probably breathing a sigh of relief that I’m leaving.”

“Would you stop that?! You’re one of the people just like any of the others! More than that, you’re my brother! So, don’t talk as if you’re nothing. You are everything to me, Fane. Everything and more.” - a conversation between Mhairi and Fane before he leaves for the Conclave.

Mhairi and Fane’s relationship is much like any siblings; occasional bickering, unconditional love, and patience with each other’s oddities. However, unlike most siblings, whose likeness of personalities tends to breed contempt, Fane and Mhairi are, by all means, anathema to each other. Oil and water. Fire and ice. The sun and moon. All these things describe the two’s odd relationship. Fane, while holding a deep well of his love for his sister, has difficulty showing such platonic feelings, opting for simply watching Mhairi with an attentive eye and merely giving stern guidance to the younger when necessary. Whereas Mhairi is more bubbly and easygoing, wishing to help her brother bridge the gap that he had created with the clan and constantly reasserting to him that he is loved and cherished. Such attempts at reconciliation have only thus far vexed Fane, but the message from his sister is not lost, even if he does not outwardly show it. However, like with the rest of the clan, Fane has kept the actions of their father a secret from Mhairi; the only secret he has ever kept from his sister (besides the information of him being a dragon. Fane himself is unaware of his heritage until after Adamant. Even after he understands this information, he does not tell her until at least around the time of the Exalted Council.). Fane has gone to great lengths to keep the brutal past of his abuse from his sister. Such actions include: hiding his acute sensitivity to magic, which is the hardest since Mhairi is a mage, his night terrors that leave him sweating and hyperventilating in the morning, avoiding any and all physical contact from his sister or others since his body still harbors phantasmal pains from the abuse, and dismissing any questions or concerns from his sister when she zeroes in on his pain. Despite these actions on his part, Fane still gives in to his sister if she is particularly persistent or if she is on the verge of tears. In these moments, Fane will endure the pain on his body for a light hug or give a vague response to a question of concern. In conjunction, Mhairi is always trying to find ways to bring back the person her brother was before the experiments began, much to Fane’s dismay. She will oftentimes gift him with sentimental items such as; flowers (primarily Gladiolus since it is a flower the two have an emotional attachment to), handmade pendants, a history book (knowing that he is secretly curious of outside society), and his favorite foods (mainly chocolates). All attempts are usually met with soft refusal or awkward shuffling on Fane’s part, but internally, the misunderstood elf screams with joy every time such a thing is bestowed upon him by his sister.

Eloris Lavellan (Mother):

“Cerulean eyes like the deep lakes in the forest. Sunlight glistening off of golden strands like wheat. Shimmering, rippling across the surface with gentle strokes. Calm and patient even when I’d yell. Never scolding. Never hating. Her words hang upon my mind like her hand when she would guide my own across the page. ‘A summer breeze. A winter’s gale. All things are natural if you allow them to unveil.’ Her words. Her lesson. ..You were angry?”

“Yes, I was. I can’t even remember why now. But, she told me it was nothing to be ashamed of. She said all emotions were natural just like the wind and trees. I just had to..let them out.”

“Who was she?”

“..My mother, and that is all I’m saying about it.” - a discussion between Fane and Cole about Fane’s mother.

Fane’s memory of the relationship with his mother, Eloris, is one of the few things he cherishes, and is one of many things he does not openly share, even with Mhairi. Before she died of a wasting disease when Fane was fifteen, Eloris guided Fane throughout his earlier years, teaching him how to write in both the common tongue and elven, as well as speak and read. Fane describes her as ‘the gentlest soul upon a fragile landscape’ since never once did she harshly scold him or yell in anger at his prickly demeanor, which Fane had even as a child. Instead, Eloris taught Fane the wrongness of his actions with poetry. After outbursts or moments of frustration, Eloris would sit with Fane under a tree or in a clearing, and simply read to him, recounting tales and lessons through elegant scripture. Such a technique had oddly proved effective, calming Fane and cementing delicate lessons of patience and open mindedness, that to this day, while slightly more difficult for him to keep, still connect him with his deceased mother. These tiny memories of his mother’s poetry were something that helped Fane through much of his father’s abuse. So much so, that Fane himself began writing and collecting different forms of poetry after his father’s disappearance, and throughout his time with the Inquisition. This odd fixation also reflects in Fane’s way of speaking, and sometimes his versed tongue has to be deciphered by someone more familiar with him or those who understand cryptic dialogue. At times, it even causes him frustration. Even so, Fane keeps the memory of his mother with him wherever he goes, and secretly endeavors to keep the promise that he made to her. The promise to protect their family, no matter the cost.

(I’m still working on Fane’s father, so he might be the last one I touch on in the list. Anyways, this is just a little exercise to finally cement Fane’s overall character. All of the dialogue is just stuff I thought up on the fly, so take it with a grain of salt in reference to canon.)

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #oc: fane lavellan #male lavellan #warrior lavellan #lavellan #my ocs #dragonage #dragon age hell #writing #fanfiction #character analysis #just trying to figure out my thoughts #since it tends to derail when i write #maybe i'll start another playthrough with fane to help #hmm #meh #oc: mhairi lavellan #female lavellan

4 notes · View notes

whorphydice · 4 years

Text

“Willingly having another, thats wild” is the name of this google doc

Surprise I wrote this awhile ago and I miss ophelia today, happy Thursday.

A routine. A routine was not something Eurydice ever thought she would associate with her life. She never thought she’d associate routine with anything in life, most certainly not the way her evening progressed night after night.

She didn’t expect a routine to ever involve a child or a husband, never expected routine to be anything more than find a way to survive the night, however it may be. She never expected a routine that some would even consider mundane.

But this. This routine of theirs was anything but a mundane, monotonous part of the day.

There were little joys to be had, in every step of their evening, Eurydice had to admit as she leaned in the door frame of their tiny bathroom. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she watches Orpheus, with his sleeves of his shirt pushed past his elbows, he is fully kneeling in front of their bathtub, quite literally soaking in every moment.

“Where’s my girl at? I can’t find her!” Comes his airy voice reverberating through the tiny bath space, as he looks high and low playfully. A high, shrill giggle cuts through, and though Eurydice cannot see the girl she can see the bubbles that splash out infront of Orpheus.

“Oh, there she is! Ophelia, where did you go, you scared me!” She can hear, in his voice, the feigned concern that meets the smile on his face.

His hand is gentle on her tiny face as he tilts her head back, the distracted little girl not fighting the trickle of warm water that washes the bubbles and shampoo from her dark curls, splashing playfully as she kicks her little feet in the quickly cooling water. He repeats the motion a few times, until there is no remnant of soap left in her downy hair, quickly settling her hair with his hands as he reaches for the little yellow towel behind him. He wraps her and scoops her out in one quick motion, holding her tiny body to his chest as he shivers. “Oh are you cold, i’m so sorry Miss Ophelia.” He coos to her, practices hands shimmying the towel to dry her and her dripping hair off. “I think it’s time for some Pa-Jammies, huh?”

Orpheus has her against his chest and shoulder, holding her with one arm as he works to drain the bath water. Her thumb settles in her mouth and he wonders, briefly, if she’d fall asleep before they even got her dressed for bed. He’s gently rubbing circles on her back with his hand, when he hears her soft babbles that quickly become coherent words.

“Mama” He hears her coo, and turns to find his wife in the door way, standing there and simply observing. Her hands are still over her chest and her head leans against the door way, but her face is graced with a gentle, loving smile that he can’t help but fall a little more in love with.

“You’re right, Opheila, you’re such a smart girl.” He assures, leaning down to kiss the top of Eurydice’s head as he passes by, feeling one of the toddler’s arms reach towards the woman in question as they pass her.

“Mama, now.” She whimpers, her tiny fist grabbing at the air in Eurydice’s direction, no longer soothing herself with her thumb. “Mama?” Ophelia whines, batting her long eyelashes towards the woman, as her bottom lip pushes out in a pout.

“You’ll get mama as soon as you’re dressed, okay?” Orpheus tries to offer, already laying her on his own bed as he digs through her little pile of clothes, searching for a specific white sleeper for her, one with purple flowers he had always loved. “Ophelia..” He sighs, trying to catch her as she rolls over to her stomach, pushing up quickly to nearly steady feet. Orpheus catches her with one arm, pulling her tiny body back down, where skilled hands quickly and efficiently button her into the footed pajamas before turning her loose.

Ophelia is pushing up on her hands in an instant, running off towards her mother, still safely in view of her the entire time. Her tiny feet carry her as fast as they can, nearly slipping on the hard floor in her footed pajamas, as she plows until Eurydice’s calves. She falls, but smiles regardless, her few teeth prominent as she looks at her mother with all the love in the universe in her eyes. “Up, mama?” Ophelia requests, sticking little arms up and cocking her head Eurydice, grabbing for her with tiny hands.

There is a pain in her heart that she can’t quite describe as she bends to pick up the baby, settling her closely to her hip. Ophelia has her head on her chest in a minute, her ear resting over her heart comfortably, the steady thrum of Eurydice’s heart always being her favorite lullaby despite the beautiful words Orpheus strings together for her nightly.

Eurydice holds her to her chest, swaying just slightly as she locks eyes with Orpheus, giving him a look that he cannot quite decipher.

“Love, mama.” Ophelia murmurs, little hands finding their way to the inside of the thin camisole Eurydice wore, patting gently on her sternum.

“I love you too, sweet girl.” She promises, kissing the top of her head before gently settling back into the loveseat they called their couch, bringing her feet to tuck underneath her. Ophelia is cradled in her arms, looking up at her with wide, patient eyes. She’s sucking her fingers, resting her cheek on Eurydice’s chest. “I know, I know, you’re a hungry girl.” Eurydice sighs, allowing Ophelia what she wordlessly requests, closing her eyes tightly in a silent prayer that today is not the day she bites.

She’s still holding her tightly to her chest, her thumb tracing her little cheek as it has every time they’ve shared a moment like this in Ophelia’s entire, eventful life. “We love you, Ophelia.” Eurydice speaks for them both, as Orpheus settles beside her.

His arm is around her shoulder, his hand coming to rest on Opheila’s head, fingers combing through her dark hair.

The pain Eurydice feels in her chest is different, not the sharp pains of hunger but a dull tug, a tightening that she cannot quite place. She thinks it may be remorse, or loss. Odd, to mourn this life she’s always dreamed of.

“You look sad, love.” Orpheus whispers, kissing her temple as they watched their daughter, no longer an infant as she was, settled between them. “What’s wrong?”

“She isn’t a baby anymore.” Eurydice admits, shifting her legs so that instead of leaning on the arm of the couch she leans on him, leaning her chest against his. “I just.. We missed this. We didn’t get to do this together.”

“We’re together now, thats what matters-”

“It’s just not fair.” She mutters, shaking her head quickly. “You are the best father. In the world. And you were robbed of so much. When she was born, Orpheus, her entire body fit right here.” Eurydice runs a hand along the top of her chest, in the space Ophelia slept most of her early nights. “It’s not fair, you had to miss so much. She isn’t a baby anymore, but you were robbed of her being a baby. Being our baby. She was so little. She was so tiny and I had been so worried the whole time.. I didn’t think you could have a living baby down there and I was so scared that she wasn’t going to- but she was alive. Alive and perfect and so.. She was everything I didn’t know I could dare to want.” Eurydice admits, her thumb still steadily stroking circles on the little girls cheek, watching as hazel eyes fluttered in a fight with sleep.

“And she had this smell to her, I can’t even describe it, but it was just this smell and I didn’t want to ever forget it. Forgetting her was my biggest fear.” Eurydice’s fingers strum on Ophelia’s back, coaxing her to sleep right as she nursed. “And she used to do nothing but eat, I swear, but she was so tiny it made me feel important. Like I was doing something good for her. Like I was giving her something worthwhile. For six months I did nothing but hold her. I held her all day and night and Persephone had me pulled from the line because I don’t know what I would have done with her. Seph, she held her a couple of times too but she was mine, Orpheus. She was my baby, she was your baby and all I wanted to do was hold her and protect her and love her. You would have loved her so much-”

“I do love her so much, whether I was there when she was born or not, I know I missed things but so did you. But that doesn’t matter now, we’re together. We don’t have to miss anything ever again. We get to be together, we get to be her parents together.” Orpheus promises, grabbing the nearby blanket and tucking it around Eurydice and Ophelia, settling it over her hips. “We’re together now and we don’t have to miss anything else. Of course I wish I could have been there, I wish I could have seen her the day she was born, too. But we can’t change it, not now. We have her and thats what matters.”

“Would you want another one, maybe?” Eurydice asks quietly, really, asking herself as much as him. “Just one more, thats all..”

Orpheus squints at her, pulling back to look at her thoroughly. It was something of course he wanted- of course he did- but had never expected to have. Eurydice went through enough to give them Ophelia, he never was going to ask her to do it again, to surface memories and experiences that he could not fathom. “...do you want to?”

“I never thought i’d be choosing to have another child, no. I never thought i’d have one at all. I never thought i’d have a husband, or not have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. But I have all of these things .We have all of these things.” Eurydice gently nudges Ophelia’s sleeping head so that she can pull her top up, running her finger over her tiny nose as she did so. “But yeah. Yeah, I do want to. I want to see you with our little, tiny baby. You are the best father… Ophelia is so lucky to have you. The world would have better people if men like you raised them.” Eurydice decides, pulling the heavy wool blanket around them both, specifically tucking it around Opheila’s limp with sleep body. “I miss tiny baby smell, and the feeling of her in my arms, when I was all she knew. And I want you to get to hold your new baby and fall in love with her faster than you can believe. I do, Orpheus, I want another one.”

“I never knew what you went through, to have Ophelia. I don’t know what it was like and I.. I don’t like to think about it. But, Eurydice, i’d like that. Very much. If you want one, so do I.” Orpheus agrees, nodding enthusiastically. It was, in truth, a dream.

“So we’ll have another one then?” Eurydice asks, raising an eyebrow at her husband.

“We’ll have another one.” He nods, pressing his forehead to hers, a soft smile on his features.

“Great, lets start tomorrow.”

If anyone had told Eurydice that a routine of her husband singing bathtime songs to their daughter was part of her future, she never would have believed them. If anyone told her that holding a dark haired little girl as she fell asleep with her skin against her own would be the highlight of every night, she would have laughed. Eurydice was a survivor, not a domestic kind of girl.

Especially, if someone had told Eurydice, that she and a poet with pretty words with decide on the coldest day of the year to have another child, with intention, purpose, and love, she would have packed her things and left as fast as possible the implied commitment enough to make her run.

Then again, Eurydice has gotten used to being wrong.

#hadestown #hadestown fanfic #hadestown au #ophelia tag #orphydice fanfic #orpheus #eurydice #Ophelia au

17 notes · View notes

antiquecompass · 4 years

Text

Fic: Signed, Sealed, Delivered

For Xichen Week Day 2 I picked ‘soulmate’ out of the prompts and took a jaunty little stroll back to the Winter King and Wizard Jiang in Journeys ‘verse

“You should consider yourself very lucky,” his mother said. “Few in this world have soulmates, even rarer still is for that mate to be found. And you have found yours in the Winter King.” She turned her eyes from the waters of their home, her fingers clenched around her arms. “And your betrothed is also your soulmate. And you two have a mutual attraction and affection for each other. So what, exactly, causes your hesitation? The Elders asked if you had any reservations. What could they possibly be?”

Jiang Cheng did not want to say it was fear, because it wasn’t. Nor was it caution. He wanted to accept the Winter King’s invitation, to stay and study at the Cloud Recesses for a turn of the sun. To learn more of the Winter Court where he would one day dwell. To learn more of the Sidhe that he--that he--it was still too early to say love. Still too new. Still too unknown.

“I suppose I am nervous,” he admitted.

His mother scoffed. “You are Jiang Cheng. You are born of Wizard and Siren stock. You bow to no one unless you choose to do so and you demand respect with your name and your power. You are the Winter King’s Chosen. To insult you is to insult the Crown of the Winter Court.”

“I don’t care about the Winter Court,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Good,” his mother said.

“I do care about Lan Xichen, and how I could be a disappointment to him, or the image he holds of me in his head. We have been acquaintances. We have been betrothed. We have exchanged letters and elemental messengers. And yet, in so many ways, we are strangers. We don’t know each other as partners. As the people beyond our titles. I don’t want to be a disappointment to him.”

“You will disappoint him if you refuse his invitation,” his mother stated. “And he may take it as a firm rejection.” She cupped his cheek. “You are much like your mother, my sea star, and though your eyes tell of your heart, the rest of you can be far harder to read.”

“I do not reject him,” Jiang Cheng said. He shook his head at the very idea. “Nor would I ever wish to do such a thing, but he’s a king and I am me.”

His mother grasped his chin tight, purple lightning dancing on her fingers, calling his own Siren magic, calling it up, calling it out, until it pulsed awake and alive across his skin.

“You are magnificent. The best that has ever come or will ever come from a Wizard and a Siren. I do not raise mediocre sons. Let the world think you’re nothing but a standard wizard, but we know the truth. The water calls to us, grants us its powers, and it loves you more than any raised outside the Sacred Seas in a very long time.”

Jiang Cheng nodded as his power filled him with the familiar warmth of his magic, a comfort since his youth.

“I will draft the letter of my acceptance tonight,” he said.

“Good,” his mother said, standing back, and finally letting him go. She turned, her magic causing ripples to shiver through the surrounding water.

Jiang Cheng let his power run over his fingers as he thought about their situation. It should’ve made things easier, he supposed, knowing his soulmate. Knowing he was a good, honorable person who genuinely cared about his family and his people. Knowing something and experiencing it were two very different beasts. They weren’t soul-bonded yet. It would take a decade, at the very least, of close contact before they could mindspeak. Knowing Xichen was his soulmate didn’t stop the nerves or the second guessing.

Sometimes Jiang Cheng wished he didn’t know. That they could just court each other as they wished, damn all the proper traditions and politics and the like. Damn the expectations and the history of other soulmates, other love matches.

Let them just be themselves. To discover each other at their own pace, at their own time, in their own way.

He couldn’t even respond to Xichen’s invite without having it approved by three different elders.

Jiang Cheng looked down at his hands and then turned his gaze towards the end of the family pier. Inhuman laughter and splashing told him the mer-folk had come for a visit. He looked down at his hands, at the manifestation of his power, and smiled.

Damn the rules.

Even with his worries, Jiang Cheng knew who and what he wanted. And Xichen had addressed the invitation to him before any other in Lotus Pier. He wasn’t going to make him wait any longer.

It would certainly be an unconventional method of delivering a reply, but his soulmate should know all the eccentrics that came with courting a wizard and siren.

***********

“He’s pacing,” Moira said.

“Yes,” Song Lan agreed.

“He’ll mark up the floor if he doesn’t stop,” Moira said.

“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen agreed.

Lan Xichen paid little attention to his cousins and friends as he waited for an answer. Of course he didn’t expect an immediate response. An official visit of one of the Jiang Wizards to the Winter Court, especially his betrothed, would require deliberation and determination. A debate over good omens. Consultations. Politics.

But part of him had hoped Jiang Cheng would’ve sent word that he’d at least received the invitation.

He felt like they’d made progress, since his surprise visit to Lotus Pier last year. Their correspondence had increased dramatically, and he longed for one of those letters now, containing Jiang Cheng’s loose, slanted handwriting and harsh opinions and tangents about life in Lotus Pier.

“Perhaps it did not reach him yet,” Wangji said. “It could’ve been intercepted by his mother or one of the councilors or one of his siblings.”

“Or his dogs,” Moira said. “They could’ve eaten it. Or that brother of his. Wouldn’t put it past the Necromancer.” She laughed. “Your face will freeze like that, Wangji. Stop glaring at me. It’s no one's fault but your own that you saw that Master of Destruction and decided, ‘thank you, Fates. I’ll take this one.’ After trying to kill him, of course.”

“I never--” Wangji cleared his throat. “We started off with a misunderstanding that has long since been corrected.”

“Has it?” Song Lan asked. “Because he’s clearly missing the point of every one of your subtle courting attempts.”

“The Winter King is headed back towards his study,” Xingchen said, drawing everyone back to the matter at hand.

Xichen started walking towards his desk. “Perhaps I should send another invitation. Just in case something did happen. Moira’s right, the dogs do love to scatter his papers. They have to spend most of their time in his office, you know. Poor things aren’t allowed to roam free.” Xichen paused. “Perhaps I should invite the dogs as well.”

“Oh,” Moira said with a shake of her head. “You don’t want to seem too eager, cousin. Give it a day. At the least.”

Xichen was eager, though. But a day. A single day? He could do that, of course. What was a single day in the life of an immortal sidhe?

“I’ll just compose a draft,” Xichen said as he headed towards his desk.

Song Lan gently stopped him with a powdery snowball to the face.

To lesser kings, more concerned with their power than being a good person, it would’ve been a grave insult. To Xichen, who counted Song Lan as someone he could always trust to treat him like Xichen and not the Winter King, it was a cold, if pointed, reminder to breathe.

“I shall take that under advisement,” Xichen said as he wiped snow from his face. He looked down at his light, spring robes. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to change.”

“He’s going to write another letter,” Moira mumbled.

Xichen would not. Or perhaps he would, but not an invitation. Just a general letter to Jiang Cheng, with the little bit of freedom they were allowed. Xichen was a king and had to be mindful of what he put down in writing, even to Jiang Cheng. Private correspondence remained the source of so many scandals among Sidhe rulers. And yet writing to Jiang Cheng still meant that he got to devote pages to his favorite novels or art or inane things like the weather, the flowers, his brother’s ever-growing collection of rabbits. It wasn’t about land or trade negotiation. And while he did worry that he bore Jiang Cheng with some of his longer letters, Jiang Cheng had assured them that he enjoyed them all.

It made Xichen wish they could’ve known each other as normal lovers and soulmates, rather than the Winter King and his Chosen.

A loud splash in the small lake besides his quarters drew his attention. He gasped when he spotted a face in the water.

A woman emerged, or at least the face of one, neither old nor young, but beautiful in the unattainable way that came to all Mer-folk. Her skin was a pleasing light blue hue and her eyes a shade of violet Xichen had come to associate with Lotus Pier.

“Are you the Winter King?” she asked in a heavily accented, ancient version of the Common Tongue.

“I am,” he said.

She studied him for a moment. “You speak true?”

“Yes,” Xichen said as he knelt beside the lake’s edge.

The mermaid dipped her head back in thanks, dipping underwater before resurfacing again.

“I have a message from the Siren’s Son,” she said.

“Jiang Cheng?” he asked.

She smiled at him, her face turning youthful in its joy. “Yes, they were correct. We do like you for him. He has let you know the truth of him, or some of it.” She pulled a satchel from around her neck. “You may keep it all,” she said. “He crafted it just to transport this message.”

There was spellwork around the purple cloth. It smelled of Jiang Cheng and the material was soft, as if made from his own robes, but it was dry as a bone. A handy bit of magic for a wizard so connected to water.

“I feel like I must give you something in return for your journey,” Xichen said. “You are far from home.”

“I offered,” the mermaid said. “It is an honor to aid the Siren’s Son in his pursuit; to bring his voice to his mate. He already gifted me a song in gratitude.”

She hummed a soft tune and Xichen could imagine Jiang Cheng’s deep, smooth voice singing along to it. It soothed him and he felt calm for the first time in hours.

“Still,” he insisted.

She cast her eyes about and pointed at a patch of snowdrops.

“I will take one of them,” she said.

Xichen nodded as he picked a handful, putting his energy into the ground to re-grow what he had taken and then again to preserve his gift in everlasting ice.

“You are kind,” she said as she took the gift. “We approve.”

“Thank you,” he said before wishing her well.

In the privacy of his quarters he was finally able to open the pouch. Inside was a letter, sealed with the symbol lotus blossom pressed into deep purple wax. It was covered in a sort of spellwork Xichen had never encountered before. His fingers pressed over the familiar image on the seal and the letter immediately unfolded in his lap. It was blank inside, but then, as Xichen touched the paper again, a burst of purple light overtook the pages.

Xichen gasped as Jiang Cheng’s voice sounded in his room.

“I am not always skilled with words,” Jiang Cheng’s voice told him. “And I felt that if I wrote a reply it would become so practiced and revised so many times that I would make you think it wasn’t even written by my hand. Xichen I am honored to accept your invitation to stay in your realm. I long to see the home that shall one day become mine as well. To learn of it and its people. To learn of you.” He sighed. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, perhaps it is too much, but I want to know you, everything about you, as the Winter King and as my soulmate. If you’ll still allow me such an honor, of course. The official reply should be there in the morning, but I couldn’t keep you waiting any longer. I know how restless I would be in your place and I hope you would feel the same.”

“I do,” Xichen said, heart full and pounding, smile wide as the purple light of the letter started to flicker.

“I am eager to see you again,” Jiang Cheng said. “And I send my warmest regards to you, your family, and your realm.”

The light went out then and Xichen was sad the spell was done. He sighed as he picked the paper up again, only for the light to burst across the paper once more, only for Jiang Cheng’s voice to repeat. A message for him from his soulmate, forever captured.

“He is so clever,” Xichen said as he folded the paper, careful to keep his fingers to the outside and not the inside.

The wax seal redid itself once the ends of the page met. Xichen carefully wrapped it back inside its purple cloth and cradled it to his chest.

#xicheng #xichen week 2020 #verse: journeys #fandom: the untamed #my ridic writing #long post #ish

45 notes · View notes