mintmatcha

[mintmatcha]

okay this is niche but whatever. the paladin reminds me of sydney from degrees of lewdity

thats not what I expected when I googled it

[mintmatcha]

The paladin has found himself getting lax. The party has slowly but surely given up calling him by his knighted name, opting for his birth name: Elias. It feels... nice, he decides. Intimate, like a family he never knew he missed.

From what he understands, you're a well liked group of travelers, greeted back with open arms. (Lemon seems to be the controversial character, which is odd, because Elias rather enjoys his blunt, straightforward way of speaking.) Tonight, the bar offers to cover your drinks for free and the group happily agrees.

Except Elias. Elias sits alone.

Pavi and Lemon have squirreled themselves into a corner together; they'd be happy if the paladin joined them, but moreso if they had the time alone. Tonight, they've slipped on one too many glasses of mead, hanging off of each other with hiccupped laughs and coos.

You always, as always, find the music. The fiddler of the band tonight has you enraptured, the two of you bouncing and dancing in time. Elias doesn't know how you both know what to do, how you know when to reach for his hand and twirl, when he knows to stop playing and dip you down. It seems magical, some bard secret they'll never let him know.

The song shifts to something else and you slip away, back to the table with your friends. You cup your breasts in your hands when you adjust your bra, placing them a certain way so they sit upwards and together. You do that every morning and he always looks away, but there's something about tonight. The smoke, the music, the spinning, the way you've been watching him back... he swallows.

All at once, the whole table looks his way; you were talking about him.

"Dance with me," you mouth.

"I don't know how," you calls back, somehow much too loud for the bustling space. You hide your giggle behind your hand and beckon him over with the other. Like a trained dog, he practically bounds over, dodging through a gaggle of young women on the way. One of them says something, but he can't hear it over the dazzle of your smile.

The church had told him many things about tieflings. The texts said that they were evil, vile things, ruiners, and temptresses. His brothers said they were ugly and odorous, that the first time he spoke to one, he'd want to kill it on instinct.

But you take his hand, manicured nails grazing over his calloused palms, and he feels good.

"You really don't know this dance?" you tug at him, dragging his feet out to the center of it all. "I'll teach you."

Elias likes the way your hair catches on your horns when you dance too hard or the wind blows too heavy. It makes your joy seem tangible.

"I've never danced!"

You gasp, rocking on to your tiptoes.

"This one's easy!" You gather your layers of skirts in your fists, a myriad of reds and purples that shimmer as you swing them around. That's not watch catches his eye-- its your ankles, adorned with golden bangles that tinkle like bells.

"Just copy me, Elias."

He snaps back to looks at your face. The smile you have on is wicked-- you must have noticed his distraction.

"Take your foot-- the other one -- tap your heel like this. Twice. Then, step, step, hop-"

He tries. He really does. He clops and clods, grabbing at the waist of his pants as if it'll give him anything sort of stability. His height and weight were always an aid in battle, but in dance?

"Oh, crackers," he curses as he nearly topples over. You catch him with a hand to the chest, your skirts still in hand.

"How are you so clumsy?" you laugh. "You fight so well, but you suddenly forget how to move your feet if there's music involved."

"I use a long sword, not an epee," he groans. Tap, skip-- was it kick? "I don't have to be graceful."

"But you are!"

How do you do that? How do you say the simplest things in a way that make him feel so... good? It makes him try harder, bite his bottom lip tighter..

"Come on, you've almost got it. Heel, heel- Play it once more! Please, one more time!" You wave towards the band and they rev up again, starting the tune from the beginning. Elias watches the fiddler watch you. A lick of protection flairs up inside him: a paladin's natural reaction towards his bard.

His eyes flicker down to your lips.

Yeah. Just. Just a paladin.

"Elias!" Your voice shocks him out of his thoughts. "You're doing it!"

Somehow, he is. The movements slide in time with the music most of the time and he only stumbles a bit more. At some point, your hand had slid back into his and you use that grip to move him around. Elias remembers how you danced earlier and lifts his arm expectantly; when you take the cue and spin, it feels like something in his chest does the same. Colors fill the spaces between his ribs: maroon and aubergine and lilac and cherry and rose and heliotrope and currant-

"You're really good at dancing," he says dumbly.

"This next one is easier." Remarkably, it is. It's more stomping than dancing, but the two of you are somehow closer, knees touching every now and again. "Keep following me."

"I'd follow you anywhere."

He means it genuinely, but you cover your face and laugh at him once again, making his heart race with embarrassment.

"God!" You peek through your fingers. "You can't just say things like that, Eli."

"What did I say?" he urges. "What? I mean it! What?"

"Just- keep dancing."

A couple of times throughout the night, women ask to dance, but Elias just tells them that they can dance all they want.

"They want to dance with you, dummy," you scold him, no anger in your voice. You've lured him closer and closer, until you're facing each other, hip to hip, hands on each other's waists. You spin slowly around each other and the world almost seems to fall away.

"But I'm already dancing with you."

.

Its nearly dawn when the band finally packs up. The two of you scurry into the street like scolded children, trying to make it home before curfew. Neither of you have gotten a lick of sleep, but the air feels crisp and alive, like breathing alone is enough to sustain you forever. Elias thinks that if he stops, he might collapse, so he chases the trail of your skirts and hopes his legs don't give.

You make it all the way to the alley before the inn before you stop, spinning on a heel suddenly. The paladin nearly topples you over, coming chest to chest with you before he manages to slide to a stop. Sweat soaked hair and ruffled clothes, the smell of ale and tobacco: somehow, in the grim, foggy light of morning, you've never been more beautiful. you look at him with the kindness expression, wide eyes and parted lips.

"I had fun."

He didn't pray last night. Or this morning. His eyes can't seem to pull away from your lips and how your tongue flits out to wet them.

"I did too," he replies. The problem with being so tall is that he has to bend to whisper, one arm placed above your head to balance himself. Somehow, he's backed you against the rock wall of the inn, trapping your body between his and the building. He can feel how your body quivers as you push on to your tiptoes, as you reach for his arms, as you inhale-

He doesn't want to be a knight right now. He doesn't want to be holy or chosen; he just wants to be a man for a moment. He needs one break, one moment to be fallible, one chance-

You grab on to his wrist and pull his hand to his mouth, covering his lips with his palm. It's sobering. Elias snaps back to reality for a moment, until you press forward and bring your lips to his knuckles. The only thing keeping you two apart is himself, his flesh. He loses himself in the chaste touch; God hates loopholes, but this one feels perfect. He's not kissing you-- you are the one kissing him.

Then, your lips move. He knows you can't feel it, but he kisses back, right into the palm of his hand, moaning into the skin. Tongues are rougher than he imagined, but still enough to make his skin flourish into goosepimples.

When your teeth close against a tendon, Elias pulls away, shocked.

"You-- why did you bite me?"

Gingerly, you reach up with touch his lip. The drag of your fingertips pulls his lips apart with a surprisingly wet pop and he lets his jaw even farther open.

"I want to do that here."

Want flairs in him, so bright that he can't control the way he slams back into you, barely able to cover his own mouth before meeting your lips again. He bucks and moans, writhes and pulls, all of it unskilled and full of want.

[mintmatcha]

Hhhhh thinking abt ur paladin some more and i

Do you think he frequently tests his power just to make sure he hasn't gone too far? What does he do if one day it just doesn't come to him??

Anyways I'll stop rambling and spamming your asks but I am Unwell about Elias

I think. it fails him at the wrong moment. he tries to protect reader and it just. flickers out on him. comes back when. simply on the attack. his god does not approve of her

[mintmatcha]

Miiinnntt how could you do this to us? Does Elias force himself to pull away??? Does he wait until he's alone to place his lips over the back of his hand to savor whatever he can???? I am feral for your paladin

oh god i imagine him licking where your mouth once was to try and taste the hints of youuuu

[mintmatcha]

i buried a sword my f*ther made in my back yard YEARS ago and i live on a large plot of land and i can’t for the fucking life of me remember where, is anyone out here psychic enough to point me in the right direction, i’m getting exhausted and can only dig so many fucking holes in a day. yes i’m being serious, i want the fucking sword back

[mintmatcha]

oof

[mintmatcha]

I know you don’t care much for the lore from the Forgotten Realms, but I really do love the tiefling virtue names. Choosing a name at adulthood to remind yourself and the world of your most cherished ideal. I think reader having one is all the more poetic.

They both have virtue names, really, but she got to choose hers. Something so precious and *her* that nobody even really thinks about what her childhood name was. A constant reminder to herself and those around her about the good she puts out into the world. And his was chosen for him, a constant reminder of what his god demands of him.

that adds such a wonderful layer!!! I imagine her as a joy, maybe. Epiphany or Jubilee or panache

[mintmatcha]

The paladin has found himself getting lax. The party has slowly but surely given up calling him by his knighted name, opting for his birth name: Elias. It feels... nice, he decides. Intimate, like a family he never knew he missed.

From what he understands, you're a well liked group of travelers, greeted back with open arms. (Lemon seems to be the controversial character, which is odd, because Elias rather enjoys his blunt, straightforward way of speaking.) Tonight, the bar offers to cover your drinks for free and the group happily agrees.

Except Elias. Elias sits alone.

Pavi and Lemon have squirreled themselves into a corner together; they'd be happy if the paladin joined them, but moreso if they had the time alone. Tonight, they've slipped on one too many glasses of mead, hanging off of each other with hiccupped laughs and coos.

You always, as always, find the music. The fiddler of the band tonight has you enraptured, the two of you bouncing and dancing in time. Elias doesn't know how you both know what to do, how you know when to reach for his hand and twirl, when he knows to stop playing and dip you down. It seems magical, some bard secret they'll never let him know.

The song shifts to something else and you slip away, back to the table with your friends. You cup your breasts in your hands when you adjust your bra, placing them a certain way so they sit upwards and together. You do that every morning and he always looks away, but there's something about tonight. The smoke, the music, the spinning, the way you've been watching him back... he swallows.

All at once, the whole table looks his way; you were talking about him.

"Dance with me," you mouth.

"I don't know how," you calls back, somehow much too loud for the bustling space. You hide your giggle behind your hand and beckon him over with the other. Like a trained dog, he practically bounds over, dodging through a gaggle of young women on the way. One of them says something, but he can't hear it over the dazzle of your smile.

The church had told him many things about tieflings. The texts said that they were evil, vile things, ruiners, and temptresses. His brothers said they were ugly and odorous, that the first time he spoke to one, he'd want to kill it on instinct.

But you take his hand, manicured nails grazing over his calloused palms, and he feels good.

"You really don't know this dance?" you tug at him, dragging his feet out to the center of it all. "I'll teach you."

Elias likes the way your hair catches on your horns when you dance too hard or the wind blows too heavy. It makes your joy seem tangible.

"I've never danced!"

You gasp, rocking on to your tiptoes.

"This one's easy!" You gather your layers of skirts in your fists, a myriad of reds and purples that shimmer as you swing them around. That's not watch catches his eye-- its your ankles, adorned with golden bangles that tinkle like bells.

"Just copy me, Elias."

He snaps back to looks at your face. The smile you have on is wicked-- you must have noticed his distraction.

"Take your foot-- the other one -- tap your heel like this. Twice. Then, step, step, hop-"

He tries. He really does. He clops and clods, grabbing at the waist of his pants as if it'll give him anything sort of stability. His height and weight were always an aid in battle, but in dance?

"Oh, crackers," he curses as he nearly topples over. You catch him with a hand to the chest, your skirts still in hand.

"How are you so clumsy?" you laugh. "You fight so well, but you suddenly forget how to move your feet if there's music involved."

"I use a long sword, not an epee," he groans. Tap, skip-- was it kick? "I don't have to be graceful."

"But you are!"

How do you do that? How do you say the simplest things in a way that make him feel so... good? It makes him try harder, bite his bottom lip tighter..

"Come on, you've almost got it. Heel, heel- Play it once more! Please, one more time!" You wave towards the band and they rev up again, starting the tune from the beginning. Elias watches the fiddler watch you. A lick of protection flairs up inside him: a paladin's natural reaction towards his bard.

His eyes flicker down to your lips.

Yeah. Just. Just a paladin.

"Elias!" Your voice shocks him out of his thoughts. "You're doing it!"

Somehow, he is. The movements slide in time with the music most of the time and he only stumbles a bit more. At some point, your hand had slid back into his and you use that grip to move him around. Elias remembers how you danced earlier and lifts his arm expectantly; when you take the cue and spin, it feels like something in his chest does the same. Colors fill the spaces between his ribs: maroon and aubergine and lilac and cherry and rose and heliotrope and currant-

"You're really good at dancing," he says dumbly.

"This next one is easier." Remarkably, it is. It's more stomping than dancing, but the two of you are somehow closer, knees touching every now and again. "Keep following me."

"I'd follow you anywhere."

He means it genuinely, but you cover your face and laugh at him once again, making his heart race with embarrassment.

"God!" You peek through your fingers. "You can't just say things like that, Eli."

"What did I say?" he urges. "What? I mean it! What?"

"Just- keep dancing."

A couple of times throughout the night, women ask to dance, but Elias just tells them that they can dance all they want.

"They want to dance with you, dummy," you scold him, no anger in your voice. You've lured him closer and closer, until you're facing each other, hip to hip, hands on each other's waists. You spin slowly around each other and the world almost seems to fall away.

"But I'm already dancing with you."

.

Its nearly dawn when the band finally packs up. The two of you scurry into the street like scolded children, trying to make it home before curfew. Neither of you have gotten a lick of sleep, but the air feels crisp and alive, like breathing alone is enough to sustain you forever. Elias thinks that if he stops, he might collapse, so he chases the trail of your skirts and hopes his legs don't give.

You make it all the way to the alley before the inn before you stop, spinning on a heel suddenly. The paladin nearly topples you over, coming chest to chest with you before he manages to slide to a stop. Sweat soaked hair and ruffled clothes, the smell of ale and tobacco: somehow, in the grim, foggy light of morning, you've never been more beautiful. you look at him with the kindness expression, wide eyes and parted lips.

"I had fun."

He didn't pray last night. Or this morning. His eyes can't seem to pull away from your lips and how your tongue flits out to wet them.

"I did too," he replies. The problem with being so tall is that he has to bend to whisper, one arm placed above your head to balance himself. Somehow, he's backed you against the rock wall of the inn, trapping your body between his and the building. He can feel how your body quivers as you push on to your tiptoes, as you reach for his arms, as you inhale-

He doesn't want to be a knight right now. He doesn't want to be holy or chosen; he just wants to be a man for a moment. He needs one break, one moment to be fallible, one chance-

You grab on to his wrist and pull his hand to his mouth, covering his lips with his palm. It's sobering. Elias snaps back to reality for a moment, until you press forward and bring your lips to his knuckles. The only thing keeping you two apart is himself, his flesh. He loses himself in the chaste touch; God hates loopholes, but this one feels perfect. He's not kissing you-- you are the one kissing him.

Then, your lips move. He knows you can't feel it, but he kisses back, right into the palm of his hand, moaning into the skin. Tongues are rougher than he imagined, but still enough to make his skin flourish into goosepimples.

When your teeth close against a tendon, Elias pulls away, shocked.

"You-- why did you bite me?"

Gingerly, you reach up with touch his lip. The drag of your fingertips pulls his lips apart with a surprisingly wet pop and he lets his jaw even farther open.

"I want to do that here."

Want flairs in him, so bright that he can't control the way he slams back into you, barely able to cover his own mouth before meeting your lips again. He bucks and moans, writhes and pulls, all of it unskilled and full of want.

[mintmatcha]

🤨

insert me watching you say your irl name is mint but also not wanting to deadname you if that's what's happening here but i can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not🧍🏾‍♀️

i- okay

i just mint

[mintmatcha]

you’re telling us your name really is mint irl??

yes

[mintmatcha]

does elias ever start to find god in you? like sure he can't love YOU but he can love what god created in you. the way your hair shifts in the wind and how your eyes sparkle when you're just about to tease him and the way your voice lilts when you say those cryptic poems (that he definitely knows the meaning to but never lets himself parse).

Maybe he can't, strictly speaking, love you, but everything he loves about you is like a gift from god, could he ever convince himself that this strong desire could be worship in and of itself? or maybe he'll just have to break his oath to find out

he finds happiness in you. beauty, peace, joy. there's music in the world in places he never knew possible.

but he is not owned by a god of joy. he is owned by a god of devotion, of fear and blood, a god that teaches life is meant to be misery, of purity. of angelic beings, not tieflings.

he finds many things in you, but never god. nothing like god.

[mintmatcha]

I know that I’m supposed to sympathize with touya the more we learn about him, but it’s almost like I see reader as a friend in an abusive relationship and he’s just the abuser. It’s like a can only care for one of them and the line is already drawn— I can’t do both. So in my head, he’s always just the antagonist holding reader back and I’m always hoping he’d just disappear is that wrong??

i dont think you're supposed to sympathize with him tbh. you're just supposed to see him as human. people can have reasons for being awful and that doesnt fix what they've done.

[mintmatcha]

elias will pray five times in a row, tighten that rope around his forearm until there's tears in his eyes, and then still think about crawling into bed with you just to listen to you breathe

[mintmatcha]

wish i could take a pill for 9 months and suddenly everyone sees me differently

can i say something crazy and possibly non pc. you know how trans people go on e or t and suddenly become insanely hot. wish that would happen to me

[mintmatcha]

can i say something crazy and possibly non pc. you know how trans people go on e or t and suddenly become insanely hot. wish that would happen to me

[mintmatcha]

do you use your irl name on tumblr? ie, either your government name or the name you go as in real life. if you use a different name that's not related to you irl here on tumblr then vote no

[mintmatcha]

“i’m scared of losing you” but they’ve never even kissed.