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WHAT ART FORM DOES YOUR SOUL TAKE ?

FOOD.

Slaving away at a hot stove, your soul creates sustenance. Nourishment fulfills its purpose, but what you make is so much more than that. What you make feeds other people’s souls, keeps them full, keeps them sated. And it is art all the same, beautiful in its simple elegance and comfort. To cook and bake is to put others before yourself. In the kitchen, you create comfort. There is a simplistic loveliness to be found in a meal well cooked. It is foolish to underestimate the humbling beauty of fresh sourdough scored with floral vines, or a tray of muffins, studded with shining blueberries like a starry night. Your being exists to care for others, to put them before yourself. There are times where you may need to rest your weary bones at the very table where your loved ones feast, but you are always quick to get back on your feet. With a gentle and caring heart, you are prone to overextending yourself, but every kitchen needs more than just one person, and you are nothing without your sous chef, your line cook, your dishwasher. Look to Julia Child. Look to Wolfgang Puck. Look to Guichon, and Ramsay, and Oliver, and Ducasse. What magnificence you can put together with only a whisk and a spoon and your fair share of sugar. What satisfaction in a stomach no longer left unfed.

tagged by: no one cuz I made this quiz <3 tagging: @devi1lute @shemurder @shentacles @abenzstern @gloomedhands and literally everyone who sees this!

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its the one year anniversary of this blog! i know i haven't been around, but I wanted to say a sentimental thank you to anyone who has ever written with fable! it means the absolute world to me <3

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fable giggles and blushes when astarion calls her darling like she's so weak for that man i fear

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@shentacles : ❝ the fairest woman in this world… i am drunk with the sight of you. ❞

fable laughs; her face is flush with flattery, and a hint of embarrassment. she doesn't feel beautiful, her hair in disarray and her face lined in traces of sweat and dirt. but he has a way of making her feel as though maybe his words may yet be true. still, his charm doesn't alter the fact that -- ❝ maybe. or maybe you're just drunk, shen. ❞

he's tilting to the side, squinting at her. the sight is adorable, and she can't help the soft, fond smile that unravels at the look of him. and she certainly can't help the desire to help him down to his bedroll in his tent, to make sure the room isn't spinning for him. to offer up her canteen of water for him to drink from. ❝ do you feel alright? do you feel at all sick? ❞

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MISC SENTENCE STARTERS WITH A DASH OF ANGST

❝ i can't even say he deceived me. i knew exactly what he was and i jumped in anyway. ❞

❝ i think eventually i got so used to the chaos and the pain and the toxicity i began to look for it. ❞

❝ i never got a chance to discover myself. i never had that privilege. ❞

❝ you can tell me anything. i mean i can't promise i'm good at keeping secrets, but i'm a hell of a listener. ❞

❝ no one wants to yearn anymore. ❞

❝ i'm doing some of my best work here and you don't even have the decency to roll your eyes at me. honestly it's hurtful. ❞

❝ i know what you're thinking. ❞

❝ if i ask for your help are you gonna make a big deal out of it? ❞

❝ can we just be normal for like two seconds for once. ❞

❝ i would say i don't know what's wrong with you but i actually do and that's the problem. ❞

❝ against my better judgement i trust you and i think that says a lot about the state of the world right now. ❞

❝ i don't actually care but i'm bored so i'm here. ❞

❝ last time i listened to you we almost died. ❞

❝ i would've come sooner. i would've been here if you'd only asked. ❞

❝ i don't want to hurt anymore. ❞

❝ you don't have to hurt anymore. you can let go of those burdens. ❞

❝ it'd be a lot easier if i actually cared as little as i pretend to. ❞

❝ i do need you. i wouldn't be here if i didn't. ❞

❝ sometimes you don't know it's wrong until it's too late. sometimes you don't know you're being hurt until you realize you're in pieces. ❞

❝ pretending you don't need people doesn't make you strong it just makes you a jackass. ❞

❝ you're gonna be okay. eventually. but first you gotta not be okay for a while. it's gotta suck so you can actually recognize when you're alright again. ❞

❝ you shouldn't have said that. ❞

❝ sometimes i wish they had done something worse. then it'd justify how hard it's been to get over it. ❞

❝ i wish you actually understood me. ❞

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really struggling financially atm so if anyone wants art of their bg3 or dnd characters (or even dragon age!) please hmu: https://ko-fi.com/daniphin/commissions

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she wants to laugh, the urge bubbling in her chest before meadow realizes, with a startling clarity, that shen isn't joking. there's a fondness in his eyes that goes hand in hand with the sober smile he wears -- no mirth, no lightheartedness to the tilt of his pierced lip. ❝ you're- I mean... you're serious? ❞

she blinks, her eyes slowly widening as his words wash over her, as they sink into her skin, drawing goosebumps up her spine. absently, her fingertips curl against the fabric of his shirt before straightening: she can, of course, hear the dance of his heartbeat. no fear there. by mielikki's horn, he really is serious. he's really...

for many reasons, it comes a shock to her. but every one of them vanishes from her mind as she nods ecstatically and softly murmurs that yes, yes she will. it's bittersweet though, that happy assent - her family gone, their friends all but vanished. who left to celebrate them but them? still, of course meadow says yes. as if she could say anything else.

❝ I love you shen, I'd marry you right now if you wanted. ❞

♦ ♪  @refabled  sent: ┈ ‘ do  not  say  things  you  do  not  mean. ’

the  reaction  doesn’t  surprise  him;   for  years  he’d  even  believed  himself  incapable  of  dropping  to  one  knee  without  taking  damage,   so  for  meadow  to  not  take  his  question  seriously  is  no  insult.   after  all,   she’s  been  hurt�� by  him  before.   abandoned  and  cast  aside  once  the  idea  of  commitment  reared  its  ugly  head,   causing  him  to  flee  for  the  hills,   following  the  habit  of  a  lifetime   —   but  that  feels  like  a  lifetime  ago,   too,   and  he’s  changed.   parts  of  him  have  dampened  with  maturity;   the  flames  of  obligation  anxiety  have  been  thoroughly  doused,   and  in  no  small  part  due  to  her.

          perhaps  he’d  asked  the  question  too  casually?   it  had  tumbled  by  surprise  from  his  lips  without  a  second  thought,   as  naturally  as  wind  blows  and  rain  falls   —   so  now  shen  straightens  from  where  he's  been  lounging  with  his  beloved  before  the  fire,   and  with  a  sincere  expression  and  a  sparkle  in  lavender  eyes,   he  speaks  again. 

          “ i  do  mean  it.   i  understand  if  your  answer  isn’t  what  i’d  like  it  to  be,   but... ”   he  takes  her  hand,   places  it  against  his  chest.   his  heartbeat  is  steady   ( if  quickened ),   drumming  out  a  rhythm  for  her  alone.   “ imperfect  though  i  may  be,   you  know  that  i  am  wholly  yours  already...   so  darling,   will  you  appease  the  fates  that  brought  us  back  together?   will  you  marry  me? ”

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planning out an arc in the campaign ive been running that takes place in a drow lolthite community called a 'hive' and writing out the family drama between everyone has been so funny. welcome back reality tv <3

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HELLO, I am once again jumping back in to share this absolutely STUNNING piece I commissioned (@ missaturn on twitter) of fable and eirsan before she dyed her hair darker again.

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hopping on to share this commission I got by @ solastria on twitter of fable and her canon husband eirsan, played by my best friend, christine <3

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sorry i haven't been around much! having minor surgery on monday and also moved to egypt and also i'm in one... two... in four different dnd campaigns as a player and im running two of my own currently so I'VE BEEN BUSY. but we will be making a comeback. maybe. hopefully!

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❝ oh, my shen, ❞ she murmurs, nearly sick with affection. there are so many versions of shen, each more lovable than the last, but meadow cannot lie and pretend that she does not have a fondness for any part of him that softens like butter in the sun beside her. when his composure dissolves in places, offering a glimpse at the soul beneath –– those are the parts of him she loves most.

❝ oh, yeah, definitely not. can't have you damaging any precious part of you, ❞ she replies, mock-serious, nodding sagely as they settle down on the couch. ❝ although, let's be honest - if anyone is renovating anything around here, it's me, darling. ❞ the fire is burning low, but a burst of heat from her palm sends it happily bustling taller.

meadow relaxes into him, smoothing any harried strands of silver out of his face. ❝ things got a little rowdy earlier when two of the lads got into an argument about whether copper or bronze dragons were superior, and some hot chocolate went flying... ❞ she gestures towards the back, where a conspicuous stain mars the backboards - it'll need to be sanded down and painted over at some point. ❝ luckily, no one was hurt, but I had to sit them both down and give 'em a talking to about being careful. ❞ a pause. ❝ besides, it was a silly fight, anyhow. everyone knows bronze dragons are the best. ❞ a pang strikes her chest at the memory of ansur beneath the city.

so much of the latter part of their adventure is shrouded in nostalgia and wonder; how did they ever manage to succeed despite all odds? the fact that they'd all survived despite the odds seems as much a miracle as anything should be. ❝ other than that... not much to report. like I said, I missed you. ❞ meadow's chin finds its way onto his shoulder, contemplating the shimmer of his cheeks, stray bits of glitter in his hair. ❝ I'm curious... out of everything you do at the gatherings, what is your favorite? the dancing? the drinking? ❞ she grins, waggling a brow. ❝ the naked bodies? ❞

even  her  laughter  feels  like  sweet  syrup,   caressing  him  inside  and  out.   if  he  could  make  her  laugh  like  that  every  hour  of  every  day,   he’d  take  that  opportunity  in  both  hands;   if  drinking  is  what  does  it,   well,   one  might  as  well  term  him  an  alcoholic  already.   for  now,   he  just  has  to  resist  leaning  in  close  to  capture  those  perfect  lips  over,   and  over,   the  drink  he’d  truly  been  wanting  to  devour  since  he’d  left  for  the  festival   ( their  goodbye  kiss  lingering  in  his  mind  for  a  good  few  hours ).   he  could  lounge  in  her  love  until  his  final  days.   recumbent,   happy  not  to  shift  from  her  sphere  of  influence  ever  again.

          “ even  if  i  were  to  be  crowned  king  of  the  entirety  of  faerûn,   i’d  gladly  tear  myself  away  from  the  coronation  to  spend  but  a  second  with  you. ”   wow;   even  his  poetic  nature  is  tipsy.   

          but  it’s  not  untrue.

          the  flush  to  her  cheeks  is  far  too  tempting,   and  soon  he’s  leaning  closer,   nuzzling  in  with  his  nose  before  his  lips  speckle  over  the  skin  there,   trailing  affection  down  to  her  jaw   —   but  that  shift  in  weight  distribution  threatens  to  overbalance  them  both,   and  he  has  to  grab  back  at  the  door  frame  to  prevent  them  from  toppling  forward.

          “ —  upright.   yeah.   that  sounds  good. ”

          so  he  listens  to  her,   and  fixes  his  wobbly  gaze  ahead  in  the  direction  of  the  fireplace.   “ we’ll  keep  the  bear  idea  on  standby…   not  saying  i  wouldn’t  be  interested, ”   with  swaying  steps  shen  begins  to  make  progress,   his  arm  around  her  loosening  if  only  so  that  she  can  turn  and  face  they  way  they’ll  be  walking.   “ but  i  wouldn’t  want  you  to  damage  the  floorboards  with  your  claws.   ‘cause  who’s  gonna  replace  them?   not  me.   just  had  my  nails  done. ”   not a hint of irony.

          bardlock  manages  his  way  over  to  the  couch  before  the  fire  without  too  much  trouble   ( only  minor  diversions,   meandering  around  the  room ),   and  collapses  down  onto  it  with  a  happy  groan.   he  melts  onto  that  cushioned  support.   “ everything  okay  here?   kids  okay? ”

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John William Waterhouse + medieval and renaissance costumes

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meadow watches him attentively - the scent of wine clings to his skin like moonlight to a lake. on another, it might smell acidic and harsh, but on shen it is rich and heady and honeyed. above all, it is familiar. a fact that, even know, she cannot help but marvel at.

there's a chuckle half-way on her lips, bravely restrained up until the moment he begins to lean them both against the nearby doorway. she cannot be blamed for the laugh that escapes; he cuts a stark figure to the memory of him from so many centuries ago, blurry now and cold and distant when held up in comparison to the softness of the man before her, the lazy affection in his eyes warming her better than any fire ever could.

❝ mm. I see... well, that sounds like quite the time. ❞ not her kind of celebration, but she can't deny the curiosity that has ebbed and flowed through the years they've been together now. meadow wouldn't mind experiencing life through his eyes, if only for a night but... it is shen's escape, not hers. she could never bring herself to ask first. ❝ I'm touched you managed to rip yourself away from such exciting festivities just for little old me. ❞ there's teasing in her words, but there is also sincerity there. her fingers absently stroke at the hand by her waist.

❝ wh- shen! ❞ she laughs at his words, blushing at compliments that have never failed to have that arresting effect over her. a woman yes, but still a girl in so many ways. especially with him holding her like this. though really, she's the one holding him. ❝ alright, well- let's save that for another night then? for now... let's focus on keeping you upright, mm? ❞ her brows raise until receiving affirmation. ❝ we should get you something to eat too... ❞

her gaze slips in the direction of the kitchen; soft cheeses and toasted bread will help sop up all the spirits he's imbibed... plenty of water to keep his head clear in the morning too. a smile unbinds itself across her lips, a plan of action perfectly domestic in nature, but there is nothing more satisfying to her than the chance to take care of the man she loves. ❝ c'mon then you, let's get to the fireplace, hmm? unless you'd rather I turn into a bear and carry you there... ❞

♦ ♪ @refabled :

"i've missed you," she murmurs when he returns from worshipping his lady, indulging in music and revelry and all other types of mirth she can't possibly imagine. her arms wrap around shen's neck, a quick peck to his lips. "how was it?"

he's  undeniably  drunk,   sweet  alcohol  on  his  lips  and  a  heaviness  in  his  limbs  that  has  him  leaning  against  the  wall   —   but  when  meadow  comes  to  him,   he  straightens,   even  his  inebriated  teetering  somewhat  rhythmic.  

          tonight  he's  dressed  exquisitely,   a  shirt  that  shows  altogether  too  much  shadowed  skin  to  be  deemed   ' clothing '   at  all,   netting  meticulously  woven  with  thin  strands  of  a  thread  that  gleams  iridescent  in  the  light.   on  his  hands  glint  a  multitude  of  rings  and  bracelets;   his  neck  sports  no  fewer  than  three  necklaces  draped  in  different  lengths  down  his  chest.   moonsilver  hair  hangs  freely  down  to  his  waist,   save  for  a  few  braids  to  save  him  from  assuming  his  appearance  to  be  monotonous.

          and  her  kiss  is  cut  too  short.   with  great  effort  shen  drags  his  attention  from  her  lips  to  her  words,   even  the  mere  sound,   like  warm  birdsong,   making  him  smile.   has  he  ever  loved  so  strongly?   has  he  ever  looked  at  someone  with  the  adoration  that's  in  his  glazed  eyes  now?

          “ good, ”   he  confirms,   though  whether  that's  a  comment  on  her  missing  him  or  the  worship  itself  is  left  undecided.   one  of  his  arms  snakes  around  her  waist,   pressing  her  closer.   his  other  is  tasked  with  steadying  himself  against  the  doorway.   “ would  that  you'd  been  there,   you'd've  seen  a  great  many  things  that're  entirely  new.   so  would  i,   actually… ”

          he'd  like  that.   to  see  meadow  enthralled  by  his  goddess.   it's  a  dream  he  knows  not  to  reach  for,   but  it  doesn't  stop  him  picturing  it  nonetheless.   

          “ we  sang  joyously,   we  danced  freely,   we  drank  heavily…   i  left  early. ” 

          the  festivities  continue  out  in  the  wilderness,   yet  they've  devolved  into  a  nature  he  nowadays  refuses  to  be  part  of   ( amazing  what  meadow's  done  to  him,   luring  even  drunken  feet  away  from  the  promise  of  divine  pleasure   —   but  he  wouldn't  betray  her,   and  it  would  pale  in  comparison  to  having  her  skin  against  his,   all  writhing  hips  and  soft  thighs ).

          not  to  say  that  doesn't  add  to  the  drow's  wish  of  having  her  there  with  him,   beneath  the  curtains  of  moonlight.   he'd  lie  her  down  in  the  long  grass,   under  the  trees…   her  namesake   s w a y i n g   in  the  night  air,   tall  enough  to  obscure  her  body  from  others’  view…

          were  i  to  ask  for  her  hand,   would  she  wed  me  under  the  gaze  of  eilistraee? 

          “ gods,   you're  fucking  beautiful.   if  i  could  still  stand,   i'd  take  you  to  bed.   think  it'll  have  to  wait,   though   —   it'd  take  me  an  age  to  climb  the  stairs,   and  i  doubt  my  ability  to  perform  in  these  conditions... ”

          he  truly  has  the  restraint  of  a  changed  man.

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@demonswcb : ❝ have you no smile for me? am i as fearful as all that? ❞

fable sighs, but guilt keeps any true semblance of frustration at bay. she glances up from where she's kneeling over the broken body of a small rabbit, attempting to heal its oddly twisted leg and grimacing at every minor whimper it lets out. poor thing. ❝ not fearful, no- you'll have to excuse me, vhaalkrin, you know I usually love our... ehm - back and forth? but this little guy needs my help and you're–– ❞

her brow furrows. the rabbit whimpers again and her concentration breaks. she's not strong enough for this. ❝ would you- can you... ❞ she bites her lip, glancing to him, something haunted in her gaze. ❝ i need some help. do you mind? ❞

DANCE WITH DRAGONS: accepting.

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she winces at the feel of his nails on her waist, digging past the flimsy fabric of her dress, like a cat's claws making biscuits... except she's the one in his lap. to pull back would be a mistake; blood and a million tiny tears in her skin. to remain there might be a mistake too. there's nowhere to go, so instead fable tries for a small smile; stays still, supine. look, her expression practically speaks for itself, I'm not a threat. it's all animal instinct.

❝ that was an accident and you know it, ❞ she murmurs, keeping her voice light. it's not that he scares her, it's just - he is intimidating. and she has such a habit of putting her foot in her mouth around him. ❝ I think I might have um- too much to drink, is all. or maybe it's the uh... mountain elevation. you know? thin air and all... that. ❞

SITTING IN SOMEONE'S LAP PROMPTS.

↳ @refabled : [ STUMBLE ]: sender loses their balance and trips backwards, falling into the receiver's lap in the process. ( yeah this checks out )

she comes out of nowhere , but he catches her like he was expecting the fall --- with sharp reflexes , and even sharper claws , clutching tight to the small thing that tumbled onto his lap , his razor-edged fingers securing her still , in place , like a predator with a small little rodent between its talons .

he pauses , and he looks down at her --- unfazed , but ever so eager to taunt . ❝ little doe , ❞ the drow sing-songs , honey on the tip of his tongue and malice in his eyes . ❝ if you wanted to sit on my lap , you could've asked first . ❞

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One Sings, the Other Doesn’t (1977)