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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Is This A Thing?

Remus Lupin x fem!reader [1.5K] that inbetween stage of being friends and something more, soft, fluffy stuff that your friends start to notice.

“I’m starting to think you like her more than me, Moony.”

Remus snorted, an amused huff that stirred the baby hairs on your forehead. He ignored Sirius, leaning further into the squishy armchair, taking you with him. You squirmed, just a little, resettling into him, your legs curled up between the space he’d made for you between his knees, his chin resting on your head.

You were both reading, or rather, you were trying to. Remus smelled too nice, clean and fresh like new linen, a touch of spearmint, lemongrass and sage. He had his own book propped against the armrest, held open with one hand whilst the other sat over your stomach. It was innocent enough, palms kept away from your bare skin by a Gryffindor sweater, a shirt underneath it. But you still felt the heavy weight of his touch and it was enough to make you read the same line about the side effects of gillyweed three times over.

“You don’t let me sit with you like that,” Sirius continued, his tone sticky soft and teasing, lips pushed into a pout that made you laugh. “Is it ‘cause I beat you at chess the other day?”

It was true. As close as the boys were, Remus tended to linger on the outside of James and Sirius’ affectionate dog piles, pulling away first when they hugged, avoiding their childish play fights with rolling eyes and a fond grin. It was different with you though. Always had been. An ache to be close, to touch, to feel. Eventually it became inevitable and you didn’t question it anymore, not when Remus was so eager to pull you into his space and keep you there for as long as you were happy.

James was shaking his head, cross legged on one of the many rugs that overlapped the common room with a smirk on his lips and several pages of crumpled parchment around him. “I don’t think that’s the reason, Pads.”

You were too warm all of a sudden, but doing nothing to stop their teasing as you pushed yourself closer to Remus, hoping you could hide your flushed face between your book and his chest.

“M’not sure,” Sirius went on, drawling. He was hanging upside down off of the armchair closest to the fire, his head lolling back off the side, black hair dripping to the floor, the small hooped earring he’d pinched from your dress catching the firelight. “He’s an awfully sore loser, you know.”

Remus huffed but stayed silent, ignoring his friend to the best of his ability. His hand shifted, an attempt to keep you close, moving from your tummy to your side, fingers sneaking under the hem of your uniform to stroke a path of heat over bare skin. He bent his head closer to yours, as if your book was more interesting than his own.

Sirius didn’t notice, suddenly too busy making eyes at a girl across the common room, a seventh year student that seemed just as interested in him. But James was letting his gaze linger on the touch, as innocent as it seemed, eyes flickering to his friend, wondering if Remus was brave enough to meet his stare, his raised brows, his knowing grin.

He wasn’t. Remus slumped down into the chair further, avoiding any eye contact that would confirm what James was thinking.

Is this new or have I just not noticed? Is this finally happening? Do we need to talk about this later?

“Anyway,” Sirius returned to the conversation, now upright and slipping a piece of parchment that he caught out of the air into his pocket, the ink still wet and holding the location of whatever meeting place the girl had sent him. “Like I was saying. Am I not your favourite, Remus?”

“You’ve never been my favourite,” Remus grumbled and you held back a grin, not wanting Sirius to start on you.

“Rude.”

“You’re a pest.” Remus retorted lazily.

Sirius gasped, all faux dramatic and scandalous, as if his friend had done the utmost to offend him. But it quietened him for a little bit, maybe a good three minutes or so, chewing on the end of his quill - no, your quill - before he spoke again.

“Is this a thing now?” He gestured to the two of you, your thighs resting against Remus’ knees, his socked foot pushed to yours. The boy’s dark eyes glittered, interested, amused. “Should I look out my dress robes? Have the talk with you, Moony? I’m not ready to be an uncle, you know—”

“My god, Sirius, do you ever shut up?” Remus was scarlet cheeked and frowning, doing his best to hide the way he was flushed behind your head. He’d snatched his hand away from your side, like you’d burned him and the action was enough to leave you unsure.

Is this a thing now? Is this a thing now? Is this a thing now?

You swallowed hard, moving from the space between Remus’ legs and standing, doing your best to pretend to yawn and stretch, your foot kicking away James’ failed attempts at his potions essay. You didn’t see, but Remus was glaring at his friend.

“Well. I’m off to bed,” you mumbled, book clasped tightly to your chest, page lost. It was barely past eight o’clock. “Night, boys.”

Sirius looked contrite as he watched you go, receiving a smack on the back of his head from James and his stack of papers, and as you made your way up the steps towards your dormitory, you heard the explosion of voices behind you. An argument ensued, Remus’ voice at the forefront despite how hushed it was, low and annoyed and aimed at Sirius.

You wondered what he’d say, what explanation he’d give. Because you certainly weren’t anything, not that you’d spoken about, anyway. You were lingering in between friends and something more, sitting on the edge of a declaration, maybe not quite love, but definitely more than a crush. You’d spent too long looking at Remus Lupin differently from the other boys now, too many years hoping he’d sit closer, hug you longer.

And he did. You noticed. You knew. You were sure he did too, ‘cause his gaze held something more now and as the months passed and you both got older - and more impatient - he got braver too. He pulled you over his lap, let his hands linger on bare skin in the warmer months, let you trace the scars he got each full moon and you were always an inch or two away from kissing them better. You wondered if he’d let you. You wondered if he’d be bold enough to ask for it first.

Before you could close your door, your dorm room lit by candle light, a hand caught the wooden planks and you startled, opening it fully to find Remus standing there looking sheepish. His shirt was creased from where you’d been leaning on him, his cheeks still rosy from whatever sharp words he’d aimed at his friend downstairs.

“Hi,” he breathed out, chest heaving a little like he’d run all the way up to catch you.

He had.

“Hi,” you whispered back, wondering where this was going, why he was here, too aware of your empty dorm and your empty bed behind you.

“I’m sorry,” Remus began, gesturing vaguely behind him. “About him. Sirius. He’s a— well, he’s a prat.”

You snorted, an amused noise that was far from ladylike but it made the corners of Remus’ frown pick up and he was grinning, relieved that you didn’t seem to be too upset. “You say that as if I’m not already aware,” you replied. “I learned to ignore Sirius Black years ago, Remus. You don’t have to apologise for him.”

Remus shuffled awkwardly, one hand carding through his already messy hair as he worked up the courage to say what he wanted. You watched him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and suddenly, it felt momentous, like there was a spell lingering in the air, like it was only you and Remus in the castle despite the way you could still hear James telling Sirius off in the common room below.

“He was right though. Pads,” Remus clarified and he was frowning a little, stumbling over each sentence like it was too hard to speak. “For once. I do like you more than him.”

Another beat of silence, shy, soft. You could feel the air shift, your heart thunder.

Remus leaned against the wall, the cool bricks doing nothing to settle the flush across his face and neck. But still, he spoke, quiet and measured, eyes pinned on you like he wanted you to know how brave he was being, how much he meant the words he said. You could still feel his touch from before, four fingertips trailing over your side, the bare skin over the dip in your waist, the way his thumb joined in and pressed nicely against your ribs.

You felt dizzy.

“I think— I think I like you most,” Remus nodded, failing to look serious as a smile broke over his face, full lips lifting into a nervous sort of smile. “More than anyone else, really.”

“Anyone?” You think you whispered it, but Remus heard, smile growing.

“Everyone,” he agreed.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin drabble #the maruaders #the marauders x reader

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ruesyblues · 2 years

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Damian doesn’t like fish.

He tolerates the meat that is served at the manor most nights, even though it sits heavily and unpleasantly in his stomach. He puts up with Shepherd’s pie and spaghetti bolognaise and pork ribs, because the others seem to love it, singing praises for Alfred’s cooking every night, and Damian doesn’t want to appear ungrateful, or unusual, or out of place.

Then one night Alfred makes steamed fish, cooked in lemongrass and ginger, drizzled with soy sauce.

“I’ve noticed you don’t exactly enjoy our usual meals,” he says, and before Damian can protest, continues, “I looked up this recipe for you, I hope you’ll like it.”

Damian doesn’t like fish.

“Thank you,” he says, and then eats every bite. Alfred seems genuinely pleased and it fills him with warmth, which makes up for the way his stomach curled at the unpleasant texture.

Damian learnt to cook at a young age.

He was always busy, with lessons and training, his grandfather always pushing him to do more, to do better. Sometimes in the evening, however, he would follow his mother to the kitchen, where she would chop onions, fry spices in oil, and roll out rotis, getting flour in her pinned-back hair.

“Why do you cook?” he asked her, “You don’t have to.”

His mother laughed. “I like to,” she said, “Do you want to try rolling the roti?”

His first attempt came out uneven and oddly pentagonal, nothing like the perfect circles his mother made. She still ate it, and told him that it was the best roti she’d ever had.

Damian learnt to cook at a young age.

He also learnt that love was when someone made you a food you didn’t like and you ate it anyways and loved it, because you loved them.

His mother came back from Delhi once and brought him jalebis. “They were your favourite when you were younger,” she said.

Damian was eight now, and didn’t like the heavy, syrupy sweetness of jalebis anymore. But his mother was holding the gold-patterned box that she’d brought just for him, her hand resting gently in his hair, and he could feel a warmth rising up inside him, feeling like it would choke him if it got too big. He would have eaten a thousand jalebis to feel like this all the time.

Damian doesn’t understand a lot of things.

“Sorry I’m late, Alfred,” Richard says breathlessly. “I brought ice cream?”

Damian doesn’t hear Alfred’s reply, but it makes Richard laugh. There are footsteps, and then Richard enters the living room where they’ve all gathered, looking wind-blown and ruffled but delighted to see all his siblings together. Damian knows how rare it is for all of them to gather in the manor, and he appreciates the opportunity to spend time with his family.

“What kind of ice cream did you get?” Drake asks.

“Mint chocolate chip,” Richard replies, and there’s a general cheer of appreciation through the room.

“My favourite,” Stephanie declares.

Richard grins, and comes around the sofa to give her a hug from behind. “That’s why I got it.”

Damian hates mint chocolate chip. He’d told Richard that once, when they were up on a rooftop after a night of patrol, expressing his disgust for the mismatched flavours at great length while Richard laughed. “How could anyone hate mint chocolate chip?” he’d asked with an exaggerated gasp of offence, but he’d seemed amused.

Damian loves Richard more than he’s loved anyone in his life. If Richard brings him mint chocolate chip ice cream, then Damian will love it too.

Alfred comes into the room with a tray laden with bowls, each filled with that brown-speckled green concoction. Damian waits for his, but when Alfred reaches him, he unearths a bowl of vanilla and hands that to Damian instead.

Damian stares at it. He’s so surprised that he barely remembers to thank Alfred.

“I got vanilla for you,” Richard tells him, as he settles into the couch next to him with a contented sigh. He grins. “I remember how much you hate mint chocolate chip.”

Damian doesn’t understand a lot of things.

He knows the way Richard’s arm curls around his shoulders, however, and the way his grip tightens slightly as Damian leans into him, watching the others bicker over what movie they’re watching. Damian eats his vanilla ice cream, that Richard got specifically for him, and feels that familiar warmth.

It feels like love.

#damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #talia al ghul #alfred pennyworth #headcanon #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #dc #batman #bat family #batfam #dick and damian #rue's queues

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morallyinept · 7 months

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Further to my Pedro Boys & Cocktails Ramble, here are some signature Javier Peña cocktails, inspired by our favourite surly DEA agent.

Again, there are no measurements, so you can make them as strong or as weak as you'd like. 🍹

If you make any, tag me in the pics as I'd love to see your creations. Cocktail images are a guideline reference as to what I would imagine they would look like based on the ingredients, but are not vebatim. Go nuts.

Drink responsibly, folks 🥴

Check out my previous Pedro Boys Rambles.

I'll mention this might be slightly NSFW due to my filthy, potty mouth cussing.

We'll just ignore the fact I've been spelling Laredo as Loredo... 🙃

The drink that started it all. 'The Loredo Legspreader.'

Clear gin, lemongrass, lemongrass syrup, fresh lime juice, red Thai chilli to garnish. Serve with a cigarette and a sour resting bitch face. Sweaty pink shirt optional.

'The Loredo Legspreader - Pink Shirt Version.'

Clear gin, raspberry syrup, pomegranate grenadine, fresh lemon juice, egg white froth to top and a lemon peel twist. Replace egg froth with Javi's own froth, if desired. Sweaty pink shirt mandatory.

'The Resting Bitch Face.'

Vodka, splash of dry vermouth, sugar syrup, pureed strawberries, cracked black pepper, strawberry and mint sprigs to garnish. Pout to your hearts content. Give everyone the finger. Especially Steve. 🖕🏻

'This Cat Pussy Is DEA.'

Tequila Blanco, agave nectar, thyme simple syrup, freshly squeezed orange juice, low cal soda. Garnish with fresh thyme sprigs and an orange slice. Salty rim optional. Don't worry, your pussy will be tangy enough on Javier's tongue, cariño. Miaow.

'Colombian Cunt Licker.'

Red layer: Alizé red passion liqueur, or substitute for any dark red liqueur.

Blue layer: Blue curaçao and lemonade/Sprite.

Yellow layer: Vodka and pineapple juice.

Pour slowly over the back of a spoon for each layer in order of the Colombian flag colours. Top with a pineapple chunk. Cuss wildly when it doesn't fucking work. Say screw it and mix it all up and spread your legs ready for Javier's tongue instead.

'The Papi Chulo.'

Vodka, peach schnapps, raspberry liqueur, pureed raspberries, sugar syrup, fresh lemon juice, raspberries to top. Then go visit your favourite hooker in Bogotá. Take plenty of cash. Get better the more you practice. Aye Papi.

'The Sweaty Javi.'

Gin, splash of tequila, sage bitters, grapefruit juice, freshly squeezed lemon juice, rosemary simple syrup, pinch of salt. Screw up your face with how tart this will taste. Then proceed to lick some sweaty collarbone for a refreshing alkaline relief.

'The Hillbilly Duck Hunter.'

Bourbon Whiskey, stewed and cooled black tea (loose leaf or bagged), citrus oil or lime juice, lime to garnish. Serve over ice. Get your shotgun and go quackers. Fuckin' hillbilly...

'Smoky Leather Jacket.'

Bourbon Whiskey, agave syrup, splash of cherry brandy, black cherry juice, seltzer water, black cherries to garnish. Serve over ice. Smoky and rich, just like that leather jacket. Lapel nuzzling optional, but encouraged. As is thigh riding on Javier whilst you drink it.

'The Peña Tenderloin.'

Bourbon whiskey, dash of orange bitters, peach syrup, peach schnapps, maraschino cherries and a grilled peach slice to top. Drink, then take a bite out of that tight, pert DEA agent ass like a piece of rare meat.

'Downright Un-American.'

Cooled green mint tea, maple syrup, clear gin, splash of apple schnapps, cucumber slices, soda or tonic water, freshly squeezed lime juice, mint leaves to top. Sleep with all the communists you can find and then act appalled about it when questioned.

'Nicotine Kiss.'

Dark rum, simple syrup, fresh lemon juice. Garnish with lemon wedge or peel. Proceed to chain smoke at least forty cigarettes before enjoying.

🖤

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #javier peña #jett's pedro boys #javier peña cocktails #the loredo legspreader #jett has spoken #javier peña narcos #pedro pascal narcos #narcos #javier pena #javi p #javi pena

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captaindamianos · 2 months

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I would love a new rec list if you’re offering! 👀🙏🏿😊

Hello!! I'm so incredibly sorry it took me more than a month instead of the day or ten I joked about in my tags. I wasn't feeling too great and I also lost my motivation to participate in the fandom in any way. So it was hard for me to focus on this task.

But I really want to thank you so much for encouraging me! This turned out to be a good way to appreciate other people participating in the fandom and thank them for the work they shared with us.

In the spirit of things though I'm going to make this the most self-indulgent list I can come up with, so this will probably include a few wips, but I'm going to mention that because I know people don't like wips (can't relate haha I've met cool people that way and I love when authors get chatty in the comments).

It's in no particular order! Just whatever came to mind or what I found in the depths of my bookmarks. Let's get started 💪

Canis Major by Lapin

Point of Opposition by forthelongesttime

lovesick by forthelongesttime

Favourite by RockingRobing

Sexual Intercourse by antivillain

The Stand-in Wedding Planner and the Obstinate Baker by penstrikesmidnight

even in another time by phlegmatic

white wine in the sun by phlegmatic (WIP)

Lord, You Keep Me Crawling by princessofpatras (WIP)

come uncover me series by sweetricebuns

i got the t-top cherry blue (now i'm looking at you) by sweetricebuns

too hot to handle series by sweetricebuns

Wildflowers by Shigure_Natsu

A (Precious) Moment In Time by CoffeeDragon87

Lemongrass & Peony by starsxabove

The Garden by DisraeliGears

we kiss and then by residue (please check out all of the authors works as well👌)

Feasts From Heaven by ahdriking

Brute by ahdriking

From Your Mouth by Holly_Golightly I hope there's something in there for everyone, always heed the warnings and ratings. I deliberately left out a lot of fanfics that are already popular, because chances are people have already read them. But I had to add some, because they're very dear to me personally like EIAT and Brute. And I featured a few I've read in the past few months to a year or two. Maybe you missed them, maybe you recently joined and filtered for kudos or hits. But definitely give them a chance, there's so many gems out there. It's once again just a really really small list and definitely doesn't include everything I liked or would recommend, but I have to stop somewhere. If there's specific tropes or things you're looking for, let me know, I can try to make themed lists as well, if it's something I read myself. Hopefully in a shorter time frame next time.

#captive prince #lamen #fic rec #laurent of vere #damianos of akielos #damen of akielos #the list felt a lot longer while working on it #but I also don't want to clog people's dashboards #thank you so much again for sending the ask #it ended up being a lot of fun and i found some fics i need to reread 👀#the format is all messed up NO #i considered adding comments like last time but i wasn't sure how that was received #but i could still add that

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ofthecrowsandcranes · 4 months

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52 herbs/plants for the @2024-grimoire-challenge

including: some of my favourites, some local plants, and some i know are in my cabinet

bay

echinacea

crape myrtle

sorrel

nettle/deadnettle

sunflower

lemongrass

mullein

mugwort

star anise

olive leaf

hibiscus petals

hawthorn berry

st. john's wort

dandelion root

eucalyptus

calamus root

anise seed

angelica root

hyssop

orange peel

cedar

calendula

lemon peel

jasmine

chamomile

rosemary

thyme

sumac

basil

sesame

garlic

oak

dogwood

magnolia

juniper

sage

dandelion

willow

ginger

cinnamon

maple

clove

ragwort

salvia

hackberry

rose

violet

ironweed

cattails

sweetgum

lemon balm

what i'll be looking for while researching/how i'll be structuring my research entries under the cut

name of plant: scientific and most common names

location: current locale, origin, climate it prefers, invasive status

identifying characteristics: leaves, flowers, stem, smell, colour, all that

method of acquisition: how easy is it to get/where to get it

use: medical, agricultural, industrial, culinary, cultural, magical

personal notes: my experiences with this plant + any salient UPG

image: best artistic rendition i can manage

#plants #2024 grimoire challenge #mine

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handweavers · 17 days

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Do you have a favorite kind of plant? A favorite tree?

chinese hibiscus are my favourite flowers, next to star jasmine and tiger lilies. all grow in my grandparents' yard in malaysia ❤️

in a wider scope, i study dye plants and trees and thus the plants i can identify and feel most connected to are dye precursors, especially those used traditionally across southeast asia. when i think of my favourite trees i think of all these tropical hardwoods and plants. so here is a non-exhaustive list of southeast asian dye plants:

🌻 sappanwood (biancaea sappan) also called brazilwood not to be confused with another, different tree also called brazilwood; it was taken from southeast asia by the portuguese and brought with them to the americas - red, pink, purple

🌻 indigo (called tagom or tagum in various filipino languages, tarum in malay) - blue, blue, blue, there are several species but japanese indigo as well as a few other varieties are commonly grown

🌻 annatto seed (this is the most common of filipino dyes from what i've read) - yellow, orange, red

narra woodchips (national tree of the philippines) - brown, red, pink, pinkish brown

asthma plant (tawa-tawa) - yellow

indian almond tree (talisay) - the roots, leaves, bark, all rich with tannins, yellow dye naturally but can give greys and blacks

mahogany (mahoni in malay) - reddish brown

taro plant (called gabi, aba, abalong) - leaves give yellowish green

🌻 turmeric root (kunyit in malay) - yellow. not very lightfast so usually combined with other dyes

🌻 ceriops tagal (mangrove - soga tinggi in indonesian) - reddish rusty warm brown, a vital and very rare dye now due to deforestation. the dyers in bali i know who use it source it from a fair trade org in papua that harvests small, controlled amounts. i have been very lucky to use this and the colour is magnificent

yellow flamboyant bark or yellow flame (soga jambal in indonesian, peltophorum pterocarpum) - warm yellow to red to dark brown, using peeled bark

cudrania javanensis (tegeran in indonesian) wood - yellow

🌻 cockspur thorn (maclura cochinchinensis) - yellow, very strong high quality yellow

mango - leaves, bark, peels give yellow, especially when processed as lake pigment

angsana - wood shavings make honey brown

🌻 jackfruit heartwood - clear strong yellow

🌻 symplocos - natural bio-accumulator of aluminum, used as a mordant in dyeing

🌻 fire flame bush (woodfordia fruticosa) - flowers contain strong tannins, combined with mangrove mud and fermented to raise the iron in the mixture to create a dye that is the primary traditional way of achieving grey through black

pandan leaves, mangosteen leaves and peels, cassava leaves, and lemongrass are all also used as dye plants. i have seen recipes where cassava leaves and mango leaves are pounded together in water and left to ferment in the sun to create yellows and greens

🌻 = i have personally dyed with these

#several are not native but brought over from central and south america #but they are all naturalized afaik

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missmoonfrost · 2 days

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Morning in the shared apartment

Sirius: Good morning my sunshine, the love of my life!

Remus: Morning.

Sirius: Good morning my favourite little brother!

Regulus:

Sirius: What? Not even a snarky comeback?

Regulus: It's too early...

Sirius: Anyway it's so good to have you here. I'm so glad you finaly made it out of that house. How are we going to spend this wonderful day together?

Regulus: *sighs* May I take a teabag?

Sirius: Of course! This is your home as much as ours now. There's this... Earl Gray. And this... English Breakfast. And these are Remus' weird ones: ginger and lemongrass *reading on a package* Good for energy and lust apparently...

Regulus: *smirking* Huh. I don't need any tea to turn James on.

Sirius: You- Out of my kitchen you little twat! Why am I trying to be nice to you?!

Sirius: Moooonyyy! Come here and love me. My brother is being a dick.

James: *laughing his ass of*

Remus: *silently high-fiving Regulus*

#sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #james potter #incorrect marauders quotes #morning banter in the apartment #sirius is the morning person and you can not convince me otherwise

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i-know-you-wanna-kiss-me · 3 months

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what’s your fav/signature scent?

my signature scent is “light blue” by dolce and gabbana. i've worn it constantly since my mother first introduced me to it. sometimes i pair it with a bit of lemongrass essential oil on my neck/wrists.

as for my favourite scent, that would be pretty much any type of vanilla. i also love the smell of coconut even though i hate the taste

mwah thank you for the ask 🫶🏼

#asks ♡♡#mutuals

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br-disaster · 13 days

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get to know me meme

thank you for tagging me, @jaggededges123 🥺

do you make your bed? yes! every morning unless it's laundry day or i'm super late for something.

what's your favourite number? 3

what is your job? veterinary pathologist

If you could go back to school would you? as in graduating in different area? maybe in the future, i've always planned to become a historian as well, but i graduated recenty so it'll have to wait a while

can you parallel park? i can't drive

a job you had that would surprise people? i'm pretty much working at my first job

do you think aliens are real? yes, but i think they're far away enough that we'll ever meet them

can you drive a manual car? no, i can't drive any car

what's your guilty pleasure? true crime

tattoos? not yet, but i want some, i just haven't figured out what it should be aside from paying homage to loved ones

favourite colour? it really depends if we're talking about clothes, hair or art, but i guess rust orange is a color i really vibe with in most things

favourite type of music? anything on the slower, indie(-ish) side, but i listen to everything. Right now i'm really into 70s brazilian music

do you like puzzles? yes, but its been years since i had one

any phobias? yes, it's a bug and i won't say which bug but i've been scared of it since i was a child. I'm a little hypervigilant of my surroundings because of it

favourite childhood sport? swimming

do you talk to yourself? all the time, i don't think i can reflect on anything without turning it into a conversation with myself

what movie(s) do you adore? house of wax, titanic, the lion king, signs, the curious case of benjamin button, jesus christ superstar...

coffee or tea? i assume this refers to plain pure coffee, so tea! mate ice tea specifically, but when it's cold i enjoy some mint, chamomile, anise or lemongrass tea (but i don't really like to drink warm beverages unless weather is cold and more often than not it's not cold at all, so i mostly drink ice tea and juice and coconut water)

first thing you wanted to be growing up? a singer

tagging @a-schrodingers-fox , if you want to <3

#the word school is one of the most puzzling english words for me #it always takes me a minute to understand when people mean university and not like high\elementary school #thanks again coffee

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prolibytherium · 5 months

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whats your favourite less popular Meat. ans how do you prepare it (i consider u the resident meat expert on tumblr)

It's an honor

(I tend to slow cook basically anything I'm not planning on eating rare bc I like tender wet meat so there's a heavy slow cook bias here.)

My fave 'less popular meat' in the US at least (not so much the rest of the world) is goat, I prefer it over lamb by a long shot. I'll usually slow cook it in a stew with garlic+onions and heavily spice it (exactly how really depends but I use cumin in everything so that's a guarantee.)

Otherwise I really like dark game meat in general- venison, pheasant, etc. I also like it cooked slowly and allowed to get fork-tender and I really like doing a sweet-savory thing with them via a fruit based sauce and/or glaze. Wild berries if I have them (tends to be raspberries or currants in my case). I'll make the sauce with a base of berries + red wine + rosemary/thyme. The other options depend on what exact kind of sauce you're going for but you'll want something bitter/acidic to balance it out, like dijon or balsamic vinegar or something. Garlic and/or ginger is usually good. A chutney is always good too. And I prefer everything I eat to be at least mildly spicy so I'll usually include jalepeños or habenero in it.

Not AT ALL an unpopular meat but an unpopular ingredient- salmon heads make the absolute BEST fish broth imo. It is basically impossible to fuck up (unless you forget to remove the gills). For salmon broth I usually make a standard stock (using garlic onions carrots celery, all roasted together with the salmon head), let it cook for 4-5 hours. For the broth I add soy sauce, coconut milk, more garlic, green onions and/or leeks, ginger, mala, cumin, coriander, lemongrass, lime leaves if I have them, usually chili oil... Etc. Take or leave some of those ingredients but I usually end up tossing them all in to taste.

Also chicken feet I fucking love chicken feet but have yet to cook my own in a way I'm satisfied with enough to give ANY advice on lol. Just try it at a good Sichuan restaurant. (If you're someone who likes eating the skin and gnawing connective tissue off bones you will probably like chicken feet. If not you probably won't)

#I've only ever personally hunted rabbit/squirrel/grouse and cooked with them all but they're not really favorites.#There's other more niche meats I like but haven't gotten the chance to cook with myself #I would kill to cook with wild boar #That poll that inspired this makes some weird choices they're missing about 20 more obvious game meats in favor of like #'cougar' or on the other end really Not niche shit like lamb #Like do bear or something that's a predator that is actually eaten on a semi frequent basis

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wof-the-new-world · 7 months

Text

Meet The Rulers!: Queen Lemongrass

Tribe: SandWing

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality / Gender: Aroace Female

Residency: The SandWing Palace

Favourite Fellow Ruler: N/A

Least Favourite Fellow Ruler: N/A

Unique Skill: She's very good at reading books very quickly.

Personality: Lemon tries really hard to be nice to everyone, she really does. She's obviously hiding something, and is always very nervous and fidgety around new dragons or dragons she doesn't know. She doesn't like eye contact.

Life Before Rulership: Nearly nothing is known about her life or existence before rulership. Some people have heard that she lived with her father in the middle of the desert, while other people think she grew up in the scorpion den with her grandmother. She has shared with her friends, though, that she never wishes to return to the scorpion den. A few royals have heard that she didn't know her uncle well, and that her uncle and father were not on good terms.

Interesting Quote: "I'm trying to be as... hospitable as my uncle was, though I'm afraid I'm not a very social dragon."

#wings of fire #wof #minecraft #wof:tnw #wof the new world #wings of fire the new world #tribe ruler #sandwing #sandwing ruler #sandwing oc

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thedevillionaire · 1 year

Text

What Goes Around

“Anyway, in case it’s not been made clear, darkling, I’m rather fond of you—” He touches another soft kiss to her forehead. “—and I’d very much like you to be comfortable.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to do all...” Her voice, unusually thin and subdued, cracks slightly as she nevertheless accepts the proffered tea with a grateful – if more than a little tired – smile. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will, darkling, but you’re not currently fine.”

Kia’s small half-laugh of agreement turns into soft cough and a sniffle; she clears her throat against the sting, and sips the steaming tea carefully. “Wow, what’s in this? It tastes like…like a hot garden or somet...” She looks up at her bonded as her voice catches and fails again, and adds a squeakily frustrated, “Oh my god, talking sucks, why am I still doing it?”

“Well, you do have rather a stubborn streak, love.” Cerberus, with the very slightest of smiles, touches a lingering kiss to his bonded’s hand and indicates the tea. “Your…hot garden is lemongrass, echinacea, hibiscus, ginger and rosehip. And there will be an orange and honey sorbet,” he says, “a little later. It's, um, cooling.”

“Oh my god, really?” Kia’s eyes widen at this mention of a very unexpected favourite thing. He’s not usually one for the making of desserts at all, let alone a dessert that involves freezing; there’s no missing that this is entirely, completely about her. And she’s positive he has somewhere else he’s supposed to be. “Aw, babe. You really don’t have t…” Her voice evaporates into a broken vanishing again, and she coughs in useless reflex. “Oh, my god, I sound ridiculous!” This complaint is also mostly lost in hoarsely strained syllables, and a further attempt to clear her throat comes to not much at all. “Ugh.” She takes another sip of the tea, a substantial and optimistic one this time, and abandons speech for its alternative. :This is…:

She breaks off again in short order. “Ow!” A flashed look of aggrieved consternation at the Demon king as if this was something he could have prevented. “Okay, I forgot that happened. What a rip-off. You can do it, though, right, Mindsend, I mean, when you…whe… Oh, oh.” She twitches and rubs her nose as an insistent tickle redirects her thoughts, reaches over to take a tissue from the tabletop box. “Hang on,” she hastily instructs, her focus falling away as she does so, and sneezes into the tissue she’s grabbed just in time.

“Hht-chu!HhtzzCHIU! Ah! ‘Scuse!” Kia blows her nose with brief and firm purpose, and tosses the tissue towards the bin, only to see it vanish in a sharp flash of fire mid-trajectory.

Her squeal of surprise, and following wryly appreciative laughter, is quickly waylaid by resurgent need.

“Oh…ah… hhtzzSCHIU!”

“Bless you, love.”

Cerberus sends a gently incremental further warming through the blanket draped across his bonded, and Kia melts into his touch, softening to his ministrations. It might be just an everyday sort of cold, an unimportant thing, really, and certainly nothing she's particularly concerned about but even so, the aches and congestion and tiredness it brings is an undeniable reality; she resettles against his chest with a quiet sniffle and hum of contentment.

She could have done without the accidental glance at the mirror in the process, though.

Ohh, what the f…

“Why do you get to still be so gorgeous when all this—” Kia waves her arms generally around herself. “—happens to you, and I look awful?” She folds her arms and pouts, faux sulking with deliberate exaggeration. “I’m all puffy! I hate you, you’re so unfair.” But she finds herself unable to not smile after saying this, and curls up nearer to him still.

“Hmm…” Cerberus, clearly and thoroughly unconvinced, begins a gently firm rolling massage along Kia’s neck and shoulders. “Surely that’s an eye of the beholder sort of thing, darkling. I’m not s…”

“You know what?” Kia interrupts suddenly, brightening for a moment in a reconsidered asserted righteousness. “You’re right. I actually totally deserve that sorbet. Like a...like an unfairness tax or something,” she says, another convulsive cough punctuating her words.

“Wow, I’m so hot right now,”she deadpans, unfurling herself somewhat out of necessity to reach across to the side table for another tissue. “You sure you want to be here?”

Cerberus makes a nonchalant, dismissive sound as she wipes her nose. “I’ve not caught one of your colds yet, love.”

“It’s not my cold, it’s someone’s from that…stupid party.”

“Ah. So it was a stupid party, then?” He raises an eyebrow and returns to the massage.

“Noooo! Stop it, you know what I mean.” Kia laughs in frustration. "You’re terrible.” She pushes him in tired play, sniffles again and lies back against him once more with a soft sound of pleasure as he continues the massage. “Okay, I know you have other stuff you’re meant to be doing and you really don’t need to be here but I’m not gonna stop you because that feels actually amazing.”

“Mm, yes, my diabolical plan.” Cerberus leans over to murmur directly to her ear, sotto voce, deep and shadow-whispered, “Rumour has it I’m rather good at those.”

Kia makes a small mmph sound signifying a desire she doesn’t quite have the energy to act upon right now, reaches up to run tapered fingernails through the midnight hair momentarily falling across her face, and rearranges herself to nestle closer in his embrace, a smile on her lips as, with a light cough, she begins to drift to sleep under his touch.

Cerberus continues the massage for a time, gradually softening to a rhythmically soothing stroke, and with directed thought steadies the hearthfire just as a sharply rising, insistent tickle catches him unguarded. He scrubs a quick, firm hand underneath his nose but there’s no dismissing it and he covers tightly with crooked elbow, turning away from his dozing bonded as best he can.

“hh… Huh-TSSCHH-uu!”

Kia stirs with a barely voiced hm? and opens her eyes, just a little, to glance up at him. “Babe, are you…?”

“Coincidence, love. Excuse me,” he murmurs, sniffles lightly, and touches a kiss to the top of her head. “Coincidence.”

He pulls the covers a little tighter around them both, just the same.

---

#dear gods this tiny thing took an inordinate amount of time to complete #ask me about my writing process #jk don't #it's ridiculous #anyway so here's something i said i'd never write #cerberus as caretaker #supernatural soap opera #cerbia #my OCs #cerberus and kia #she's amazed at how good he is at this and yet #does not apply the same principles to himself #of course he thinks he does though #and he does try #just...badly

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tieflingtareon · 6 months

Text

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 19 | Words: 5.4k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Waking up to a sleeping lover was rather normal for Astarion. Having that lover still be clothed was different though.

Astarion moved from his back, the lull of his trance ebbing away as he rolled onto his side, looking at the sleeping man beside him. The blanket was bunched around the mans waist, likely because he ran too hot to actually be wearing his bed shirt and be covered by the woollen blanket at once. Not in the inn where they were hidden from the elements, unlike when they were in the wilderness of the coast.

He wasn't sure of the time, but he could hear the stirrings of their neighbour, one of the Harper's, getting up, so he assumed it to be morning. Or, as morning as it could be when there was no sun to tell him so. Thinking about the lack of sunlight actually made him shiver, and he hesitated before sliding himself closer to the man, gently lifting his limp arm and allowing it to rest over his waist, tucking himself into his chest. He was acting like a leech, stealing his heat, but it was only to be expected. He got used to warmth on his skin, as temporary as it was. He couldn't wait to be back in to Baldur's Gate where he could flaunt under the sunshine again.

It seemed to be the best lighting for his complexion anyway, he thought to himself with a quirk of a smile, remembering himself through Tar'eons eyes.

If Tar'eon felt the chill of his skin, he didn't react, sleeping heavily. Astarion wasn't used to the man resting so deeply. He would have checked his pulse to see if he was dead if he couldn't hear it, slower but just as strong as always. He wouldn't lie, he salivated a little the longer he listened to the blood travelling through his heart and outwards to cycle through his body. Tar'eon may be his...something now, something real, but he was still Astarion's favourite meal. He was a vampire, he couldn't be faulted for his hunger.

Astarion closed his eyes, tempted to lay there a while longer. Pretend to sleep so he could be held by the tiefling for another hour.

Tar'eon shifted, making a snuffling sound before he huffed hotly over his curls, arms tightening around him. If he were awake, Astarion would have complained. If only for show. But as it was, he would indulge himself.

He wasn't sure how long this would last after all. A few hours, a few days, a few weeks - if they transformed, this would be cut short. If they died by Ketheric's hands, by Cazador's...There were so many possible deadlines for them. He would have Tar'eon for a hundred years at most before he was gone entirely. It didn't like thinking about it though.

He tucked his face into his neck and breathed deep, the scent of patchouli and lemongrass filling his nose. It had to be the soap he used, something he'd found in the inn or brought from Dammon. Beneath that, was a smell similar to the warmth of a hearth, pure heat coming off in waves off his skin as he breathed him in. And under the flesh, was the smell of sweet, fresh blood, pulsing through delicate veins, one of Astarion's favourite scents.

He practically purred, feeling more relaxed than he could ever remember himself being. Were his muscles truly so heavy when he let them loosen and fall in their natural place? He was used to aching, feeling heavy in his bones and skin stinging with agony after a bad night with Cazador. This was a different heaviness all together, one that felt welcoming; felt comforting.

Astarion's eyes opened slowly when he felt Tar'eons claws dig into his lower back, felt him shift and grunt, the steady pace of his heartbeat falling into disarray, pumping hard as his breathing grew uneven and harsh.

He frowned as he pulled his head back, watching Tar'eons face contort, sweat beading at his temple. He looked like he was in pain. Astarion made to sit up, but Tar'eons claws-like nails dug in deeper, and he couldn't help the small shout of surprise when skin broke and gave way beneath the thumb of the tiefling.

"Tar'eon, wake up, for Gods sake!" He snapped, not appreciating the broken peace of his morning, nor the sting.

Tar'eons eyes flew open, and in moments, he had his hand back to his side, whirling around to curl into himself, blanket tangled around his legs as he sat on the edge of the mattress, as far as he could get from the vampire. Astarion watched the man as he clutched his hands to his chest, head bowed, taking in deep breaths.

He didn't chance getting closer to him, not until his heartbeat sounded stable. Quicker than preferred, but steady. He slunk up behind him, a hand smoothing up his back, and over his shoulder until it laid over his chest, his chin propped on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Tar'eon said before he could even open his lips to ask if he was alright, the apology laced with guilt. "I'm sorry, ph wzir, oarqujy py, oarqujy py." The apologises slipped into his native tongue, too caught up to bother with translating.

"Shush...Barely a scratch. Do not think me so weak to bemoan a nick." Astarion tutted softly, even if they both knew he adored the dramatics. In any other situation, he absolutely would have complained to the High Heavens, to anybody who would listen. He gently scratched his blunt nails over the tieflings chest, the action instinctive, trying to sooth him like he would a frightened animal.

"I'm sorry." Tar'eon took his hand, curling his thumb into his palm and holding gently. After a minute of silence, his heartbeat was finally quiet once more, and the tiefling pressed a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "You let me get a hold of you. Next time, you need to be more careful. You do still have your dagger, right?"

"Shut up." Astarion hissed at the very notion, a cowed expression on his face. "I wasn't going to stab you over a couple of bloody bruises. When I stab you, it'll be because you deserve it." He grumbled, slipping away from the mans back to sit. Tar'eon turned around to look at him, his expression painfully sad.

His gaze feel to Astarion's chest, then down to the small patch of blood that had wept out of the wound on his hip, staining the silky white bed shirt. He looked back at the vampire who tilted his head, waiting for him to speak, but he couldn't form a single world, his throat closing up tight with emotion. He placed a hand on one side of Astarion's hip and rested his head on his chest, slowly wrapping his arms around him. Trying to reassure himself it was all a bad dream. A nightmare. Not the Urge making himself feel unrecognisable.

"I'm sorry." He whispered once more, even if he knew Astarion didn't want to hear it. The vampire sighed, his chest physically deflating as Tar'eons cheek rested upon it, spidery fingers running through dark strands, loosening the ribbon keeping his hair out of his face. The slipped free, falling over his hulking shoulders, tickling Astarion's chest.

"Enough of that. I didn't apologise nearby as much when I sunk my fangs into you, darling. This truly is nothing." Astarion felt like he was cradling a mountain lion against his body, but he did consider himself a cat person so... "You're awfully upset about all this, though. Would you like to tell me something, hm? I told you once before; nightmares aren't something I'm uncommon with."

Tar'eon shook his head.

"It was just...a nightmare. I don't know. I can barely remember it now." The large tiefling pulled away, shaking his head. "It's not important. I swear."

"It sure seemed important when you were clutching at me like you'd grown a hawks talons." Astarion groused.

"Astarion," Tar'eon cupped his face in his hands and smiled, even if it looked weary. "It's nothing. Really. I promise. I just need to wash up and eat some breakfast, and I'll be right as rain."

"There is nothing right about rain." Astarion tutted but conceded. If Tar'eon didn't want to talk, fine. He'd wring it out of him eventually. Tar'eon smiled, looking a little more relaxed now.

"May I kiss you, ph myirz?" He asked, the question whispered in a low, warm tone. Astarion huffed out a small laugh and smirked, nodding.

"Do you really need to ask? Go ahead." Tar'eon leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, only lingering a few moments. Astarion opened his eyes as he pulled back and smiled, something soft in the upturn of his lips.

"Delicious. Are you sure we must go wondering in the dark again today? I'm sick of the shadows."

"The sooner we defeat Ketheric, the sooner we can leave for Baldur's Gate. I promise." Astarion sighed.

"Very well. Go wash up then. I don't mind my breakfast a little salty, but..." Astarion trailed a finger up his neck and smirked, unable to help himself from using old tactics to get the mans full attention. "Your fear smells rotten, unfortunately. Go wash it off. Then I'll take a nibble, hm?"

"I spoil you too much." Tar'eon muttered, pressing another quick kiss to his lips and getting off the bed. "I'll be back."

"I can't wait." Astarion licked his lips and laid back on the bed, happy to take up the whole thing as Tar'eon laughed, disappearing into the bathroom with his pack in hand.

It didn't strike Astarion as odd, even if it was.

****

"Have you seen my dagger?" Astarion asked as he lifted up pillows and rifled through the dresser drawers, confused to where he could have put it. "The pretty one."

"All your daggers are pretty, Astarion." Tar'eon chuckled, standing in front of the mirror as he adjusted the collar of his armour to hide the bite mark Astarion had left high on his throat. It was a poor attempt, honestly.

"You know which one I'm talking about. The fancy, magic one."

"I do. You probably misplaced it, that's all. Let me take a look." Tar'eon did his own round of checking pillows and drawers, even rifling through Astarion's pack. "You know what? Our packs look the same, aside from my flute always sticking out. Maybe you simply..."

He reached into his own pack and made a small sound of victory.

"There. You probably put it in my pack on accident the night prior."

Astarion frowned as he took the dagger, tucking it into his waistband. He wanted to agree with the tiefling, but he knew for a fact that he had placed it beneath his pillow last night. How on earth did it end up in Tar'eons pack?

"Ready to go now?" Tar'eon smiled softly as he fixed a wayward curl, tucking it behind his pointed ear. "Now that you have your pretty dagger?"

"You're my prettiest dagger, darling." Astarion drawled, sarcasm heavy in his tone even as he batted his lashes. Tar'eon laughed, tucking his cloak in more securely. Astarion wore fine things well, and the cloak, crudely gifted to him or not, was very fine on the vampire, indeed.

"I think that title belongs to you, ph myirz." He countered.

"You still haven't told me what that means, darling. Don't you think it's about time?"

"Mm...no. I don't think so. You have the book on Infernal at your disposal though. That should keep you occupied for a couple of hours, don't you think? I know you hate being bored."

Astarion laughed.

"You cheeky little pup." He narrowed his eyes at him playfully. "Alright. I'll play your game. I'm quite the studious pupil when I'm curious. Will I get a reward for my efforts?"

"The reward will be the knowledge you obtain." Tar'eon said sagely, but Astarion quirked a brow, challenging him to dare leave it at that. The tiefling gave a grin, a rare thing. "I'll buy you a new, shiny, pretty thing in Baldur's Gate. Happy?"

"Very." Astarion purred, smirking as he turned and slipped out of the room, the tiefling following after him with a fond shake of his head.

****

Astarion wrinkled his nose as they traversed further into the castle. It smelt old, like decay and rot, and copious amounts of dust. Tar'eon had managed to get them past the guards at least, and though he insisted he was simply that persuasive, Astarion knew from the expression on their faces, they just didn't want to anger a 'True Soul' that looked as intimidating as the tiefling did.

One of these days, Tar'eon would realise he didn't need to lie, because he was terrifying if one did not know him personally. Even Astarion had been unsettled by his appearance in the beginning. Now, though...he was quite fond of his looks.

Astarion set towards the doors, where they'd meet this 'Z'rell' everyone was mentioning, but Tar'eon hooked his hand into his elbow and veered him to the right. He groaned, already knowing that Tar'eon wanted to take a peek at everything before meeting this woman. How tedious. Hopefully they'd find something pricey to loot, or fun to kill.

Astarion quirked a brow as he looked around the kitchen they had entered.

"Gods, I don't want to know what Gnolls are making." He remarked with a grimace.

"Don't turn your nose up just yet. Might be something you'd like. Something bloody." Gale jested and Astarion gave a sarcastic, drawn out laugh before glaring.

"Don't talk to me."

"Of course. Not everyone can have the patience for stimulating conversation."

"Tar'eon, please tell me I can kill him."

"That would not be in your favour, I'm afraid. Or anyone else's, for that matter, my friend." Gale chuckled at his own gallows humour, not that the rest of them would get it.

"You can't kill him, Astar." Tar'eon placed a hand on his hip, looking at Astarion. "Can't you rein in your murderous delights for foes instead?"

"Just a bite." Astarion insisted, acting coy. "On his main artery. With my pretty dagger as substitute for my fangs."

"No." Shadowheart chuckled at Tar'eon blunt response.

"Ugh, you're such a wet blanket." Astarion clicked his tongue, and Tar'eon rolled his eyes lovingly, ignoring his pouting in favour of approaching the woman in the kitchen. She looked less likely to eat him than the Gnolls, though they were being strangely...docile. She was also the only one wearing the Absolutes uniform.

Information was information, enemy or not.

"One moment, True Soul." The woman - a gnome, perhaps? - with dark skin and short, thick locked hair was keeping her attention on the Gnoll before her. "You use a spoon to stir the soup, Barnabus. Forget the axe, my darling." She spoke to the creature like one would a small child, using the voice of a teacher.

Tar'eon watched this 'Barnabus' give soft, almost hooting sounds, coming out rough in its voice. He frowned. It was not typical Gnoll behaviour, from what he had encountered on the road.

"Now! How can I help you?" She finally turned to him, voice pleasant. He couldn't take his eyes off the Gnoll though.

"'Barnabus'...?" He queried, and she smiled.

"I've shown Barnabus a kinder way. A kinder name is only fitting." Tar'eon felt something hot lick up his spine, something akin to anger flushing the back of his neck at the very idea. Changing someone's name, their identity, all because it wasn't as nice as what they thought it should be...

"That is the gift the Absolute gave me, when I stood before Her. To rewrite the lives of Her faithful - make them believe they are something better." He gritted his teeth as she continued to drivel on. He wasn't quite sure where the intensity of his anger came from, but...it was fuelled by pure loathing for this woman who changed others names and lives with no consequence, without consent.

"I thought the Absolute accepted us all as we are." He challenged.

"She gathers many threads for Her Design - but it is still Her Design. And Barnabus has found his place in it. Observe," She turned back to the Gnoll and sweetened her voice, less like a teacher and more like an owner. "Barnabus, sweetie! Come show what a good boy you are." She turned back to Tar'eon with a smile.

"What would you like him to do?" Tar'eon stared her down with contempt, jaw flexing, and she simply laughed.

"Indecisive, are you? Let me decide then..." She turned back to the creature, and Tar'eon could feel her will being forced upon the Gnoll, her voice sickeningly sweet as she made the creature dance, praising it's efforts even as it whined.

"Oh, this is just sad..." Astarion murmured from his right, and Tar'eons tail gave an aggravated whip against the floor, scratching grime off stone. Barnabus growled and shook his head, obviously displeased at being pulled about like a puppet on strings, and the woman scowled.

"No, Barnabus! We've talked about this."

Tar'eon looked at the Gnoll and found instinct led him to reach out to the creature. Killing the woman outright himself may cause him some troubles later on, but having her 'puppets' do it...Well, he was doing them a favour.

He pushed past her will, inside Barnabus' mind, forcing himself into its place until she was practically thrown out of the Gnolls head. In her place, he reached into the Gnolls mind and dragged forward the urge to kill, to maim their master. The desire to be free.

Take what you are owed, Tezik Bloodfang.

He let the Gnolls true name surface, letting the identity he once had return to him. The autonomy to make the choices he wished, good or bad. The connection snapped, and Tar'eon retreated, smiling to himself as the Gnoll hunched in on itself, like the beastly creature it was. The woman's voice cracked as she attempted to regain control, to draw upon the 'Barnabus' she had created, but he was no more.

He watched in satisfaction at the Gnoll attacked, bloody and savage.

"Good Gods." Gale muttered, grimacing in disgust at the blood that spurted onto his shoes. Astarion chuckled.

"That was you, wasn't it, darling?" He looked beyond pleased. "I do love when you get that bloodthirsty look in your eyes."

"She's getting what she deserved." He said coolly, taking out a rag and handing it to Gale who awkwardly wiped at his boots. Tar'eon didn't care for a bit of gore on his own. His boots had seen everything. "Nobody should have to change their name or the way they are; not unless they want to. Tezik did not."

The Gnoll in question turned to them, and Tar'eon could feel his blood lust pulsing off him in waves. He craved more. Astarion reached for his dagger, and Shadowheart her spear, Gale's hand beginning to flicker. Tar'eon did not move though, and tilted his head when the Gnoll grovelled before him with a howl. Not in forgiveness, but in awe.

"Lord...baaaaack." The Gnoll was attempting to communicate with him, and Tar'eon listened intently. "Many-many die."

"I'm...back?" He frowned. "Have we met before?"

Tezik did not answer, only laughed, high and piercing like a hyena. Tar'eon pursed his lips but nodded to the creature in respect, and then gestured to the fellow Gnolls.

"There will be blood coming soon in a matter of days. If you want your revenge on the Absolute...wait for my call."

Tezik did not look pleased to wait, but he moved along to his Gnoll brothers, and escaped as Tar'eon watched. He had a good feeling he'd see them again. Allies were always welcome, even if their intentions were less heroic in nature.

"Well, would you look at that..." Astarion had his hands on the woman's skull, slipping the wriggling tadpole into a jar and slipping it into his pack. "I do love when others do all the hard work for us."

Tar'eon squinted his eyes at his lover.

"I can trust you to carry that, can't I?"

"On my honour!" Tar'eon doubted that since he didn't have any. "I don't like the idea of tentacles, darling, it's really not my thing...I'm not taking my chances until you do."

"Good. That'll be never." Tar'eon smirked and continued further in, curious to see all the castle had to offer.

He'd expected a lot of things, but the Drow woman was not one of them. He couldn't say he'd met a lot of Drow, and given the few he'd met had been a woman hellbent on attacking his people, and a man who killed slaves carelessly, well...It wasn't a good record. He tried not to be unreasonable though. If a Githyanki like Lae'zel could sit at their table, and even he with 'foulblood' could be a hero, then a Drow could earn themselves good conversation.

He regretted assuming as much near instantly when she began talking like he was beneath her, while somehow also showing respect. A confusing mix. One had to find charm in the natural superiority of a Drow woman's tone.

"Araj Oblodra, trader in blood and the sanguineous arts. It is a pleasure to stand before a True Soul. And your pale companion. I'd like to offer my services, if you're willing?"

"What exactly does a 'trader in blood' do?" Tar'eon frowned. His question seemed to spark a flame in her though, allowing her to speak more on her profession.

"I trade in blood and the potions that can be wrung from it. I'm more than happy to make you one, if you'd honour me with your blood. With one drop, I can brew a rather potent potion for you. The rest, I keep for myself." Tar'eon wasn't exactly sold on the idea. Not when she would be keeping a vial of his blood around. Her work almost sounded witch-like, and he didn't really want to mess with another hag, if he was honest. It always spelt trouble. But he was curious.

"What kind of potion is it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No idea! But it will be unique to you - your blood essence and the Absolute's blessing intertwined. We can learn exactly what that means together, hm?"

Tar'eon looked away from her gaze, unsettled by the way she looked at him. He knew of the Drow society, that men, while soldiers, would report to the women, and could own no status of their own without their wives or mothers involvement. He couldn't tell if she was looking at him like that because she wanted to make him kneel beneath her boot, or because she wanted to devour him like a spider.

"And what exactly do you do with the blood you keep?" Tar'eon didn't trust her one bit. But a potion made his own blood...it would enhance him, wouldn't it? Make him stronger. He'd choked down Ethel's hair to become stronger, and he was open to being convinced to give his blood away for the sake of a potion that could make him even stronger. Any addition to his strengths would be mandatory if he planned to go up against Cazador when they reached Baldur's Gate.

"Research, naturally. A little experimentation, perhaps - I have an innate curiosity for all things sanguine." Tar'eon thought about it, uncertain, before he sighed. If he was not definite in his answer, then the cons probably outweighed the pros, and it was better to listen to his gut.

"I'm not interested. I'm afraid my blood is to be used for better means." Tar'eon huffed a soft laugh, quirking a smile at the Drow. All the talk of blood only made him more aware of the dull ache of the wounds on his chest, hidden beneath his armour.

He hadn't been able to leave the Urge unpunished after all. Not after what he did to Astarion.

"I'm here, should you change your mind." She sounded disappointed, before flicked her gaze over to Astarion. "Although perhaps there's one more thing we could discuss. Your friend."

I don't think friends typically share a bed, but sure...

He quirked a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

"He's a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn, at least."

"Oh, don't worry. We're all friends under the Absolute. I won't bite." Astarion smirked, seeming to enjoy himself as he acted as a comrade rather than the traitors they were to this 'Absolute'.

"Oh, I'd prefer if you did." Tar'eon looked at the Drow sharply, eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher her intentions. Her response managed to shock Gale so much he forgot how to stand upright and almost crashed into Shadowheart who glowered even as she shoved him back onto the flats of his feet.

"I assume he belongs to you?" The Drow turned to Tar'eon, looking a touch sceptical. Tar'eon was sure if he was a woman, she'd have no doubt in her inquiry, but as it was, Shadowheart was standing furthest away from Astarion, and looked more like she owned the bumbling wizard than the vampire.

"Excuse me?" Tar'eon scowled. "He does not belong to me like a sword belongs to it's wielder, nor sheath. He's his own person."

She laughed.

"I'm sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable." Tar'eons brow twitched, and his hand wrapped around the hilt of his shortsword. He was feeling particularly bloodthirsty today, and unfortunately, every target seemed to be deserving of it, despite his wishes for little bloodshed. "Do you have a name, spawn?"

The phrase struck Tar'eon as odd. Did not all spawn have names? Astarion had mentioned remembering little of his past prior to vampirism, but...surely people did not forget their own names. Did they?

Astarion sputtered, looking completely taken aback by the turn of events.

"Astarion, but hold on-"

"Good. Now, Astarion," He hated the way she said his name. "I've dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl."

"I-I'm sorry? You want to be bitten?" The disgust was obvious in his disbelieving tone.

"To feel your life's blood slipping away? To dance on the edge between life and death? Yes. I want it." Tar'eon could understand the appeal considering he was bitten near daily by Astarion, and it was a very pleasant thing despite the initial pain, but he didn't like the way she spoke of it. She wanted to make use of him, and it rubbed Tar'eon the wrong way, the way she dismissed his obvious contempt for the idea.

"I'll even compensation you - a potion of legendary power that forever increases the strength of the one who consumes it. It's not for sale, but it's yours if you bite me."

Tar'eon grimaced. Now, she was bribing them. The selfish part of him wanted that potion, if only to benefit them down the road, especially against Cazador - Hells, he'd let Astarion have it if he wanted, considering he was the one doing the biting, but...

"I will have to decline." That was the only answer Tar'eon needed. If Astarion didn't want to do it, then Tar'eon would not ask it of him. Astarion was a glutton for blood. If he was declining, it was for a good reason.

"Excuse me?" She scoffed. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you're squandering it."

"I gave you my answer." Astarion snapped, glaring at the woman, bristling at her continued pressing.

"Can't you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?" Tar'eon narrowed his eyes. He glanced to Astarion, quirking a brow.

"It is unlike you to turn down a meal." He curious to know why.

"Will you excuse us a moment?" Astarion chuckled, all false bravado as he grabbed Tar'eons arm and turned them both away from the drow. "Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me in for some- some potion?" He looked royally pissed.

"No." He wouldn't trade Astarion for anything. "I just want to know why."

"Well, I have the quite the fill with you to begin with, given how delicious large you are as prey, but her?" He turned his nose up at the very idea. "There's something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here - it's rank."

"What do you mean? What's wrong with it?" He hadn't considered that other races could have unappetising blood. Did it depend on the person? Did all races have different tastes? Did every person differ?

"I can't say. It just smells wrong. Unnatural. Drinking it wouldn't kill me, but it would not be pleasant."

Araj sighed, "I don't have all day, True Soul."

"I won't make you do it. I never intended to from the start. You have every right to say no to her. A potion is not worth your discomfort." Tar'eon stood firm in his decision. If Astarion didn't want to bite her, then so be it.

"All right...Uh, thank you." Astarion seemed pleasantly surprised by the answer, standing taller as he turned back to the Drow. "Ah, it's still a no, I'm afraid."

"How very disappointing." She bit out, eyes narrowed at the pair.

"Thank you. I...appreciated that." Tar'eon smiled fondly at Astarion and reached up to caress his cheek, thumbing along his cheek. He had vowed to protect the man, and he would, even outside of battle.

"Good...because I'm going to kill her now." Tar'eon withdrew his shortsword and swiped at the drow woman across the face without a moments hesitation, Araj falling against the table in shock.

"You will pay for that!" She hissed, and Tar'eon knew that drow women were often raised as warriors. If he wanted to kill her, he had to make it quick.

He didn't let anyone else interfere, Gale and Shadowheart occupied with the bystander as Astarion watched, fascinated as Tar'eon spilt blood in his honour. The smell of it was even more rancid when it bled to the surface of Araj's skin, but it was well worth bearing the rotten scent to watch Tar'eons hand wrap around her throat and pin her to her desk, her potion bottles smashing onto the floor as she thrashed, slashing at the tieflings face with a dagger before he sunk his blade into her chest.

The drow gave a sharp gasp, a gurgle of blood escaping her lips, likely filling her lungs. Drowning in it.

In a last ditch effort of revenge, she smashed a potion against Tar'eons face, the tiefling letting her go with a shout of pain, holding the left side of his face as hunching in on himself. Araj's body took its last breath and she slumped, Tar'eons sword still buried just below the space where her collarbones met.

Astarion rushed to his side, pulling his hand away to get a good look at it, and he winced at the blistering, burnt skin, rotting into a deep red, almost black colour. The smell alone gave away it's cause. Acid - and so close to his eye too.

"You idiot, letting that woman get the final blow." Astarion growled, fishing out a healing potion as Shadowheart made her way over.

"Gods, that looks nasty." Even she had to admit it, bringing a glowing hand to his face. "This will hurt." She warned only a second before pressing directly to the wound, the bright blue glow enveloping over half of his face. The tiefling groaned, blinking a couple times as to adjust the sight of his left eye. It was a touch fuzzy, but he could see a lot better than before.

"Drink up," Shadowheart nodded to the healing potion in Astarion's hand. "My magic can only do so much, and you will not want any lasting affects of acid to the eyes."

"Thanks." Tar'eon sighed, touching his face. It was still tender, like burning yourself on a hot pot. He wiped away the drying blood with the back of his glove. He took the potion from Astarion, missing the mark ever so slightly before he focused his eyes on the task. His depth perception felt rocky, but he would quickly adjust. He shot back the potion and groaned softly in relief.

"I can't believe you attacked the drow." Gale looked tired already, wiping sweat from his brow. "Don't go giving me such a scare again, getting injured like that. I have a weak heart, you know?" The wizard sighed. "Well. Shall we continue?"

"Yes. I think we're done here." Tar'eon agreed. There was still much to do after all. He waited for Astarion to loot the drow, taking his sword back with a grunt and a tug, before they continued deeper into the castle. They would leave no stone unturned.

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