#「 VISAGE; WARRIOR OF LIGHT 」

[sarastuss-a]

¹³. APPEARANCE STUDY : SARASTUS, THE NEW SUN.

[aceparagon]

i'm glad i don't have to touch delebrum reginae again after getting the field notes, but at least there's a good gpose opportunity to be had here.

[tenebriism]

// I wasn't going to go this entire holiday season without fashioning a seasonal outfit for him AND taking 90257 pictures. He's such a cute kitty cat, I LOVE him. 😭❤️ Dark Dragmire, cutest Warrior of Light, as merry and gay as always.

[aceparagoned]

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄: 𝐖-𝐖-𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓!

[tenuuchlegch]

Oh, my gosh. I thought this capture of that wip I was working on was lost forever, but my one drive managed to save it after I got a new computer. Couldn’t save the actual wip though unfortunately.

But yeah this is... what I imagine the dynamic between Emet Selch and Odtsetseg was like in ShB. 

[ofcentvries]

[out-of-heaven-and-hell]

Lute tag dump

[prideofcornelia]

tag dump i.

[k-nayee]

Wife to the Winds Epic: The Musical | iii

wc: 1.8k a/n: turned into 4 instead of 3 parts lol. Here's the animation for this part

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

recap

Your hand flickered down to the weight in your satchel. With trembling fingers, you rummaged through it.

A Lotus fruit and bundle of dried Nepenthe and Poppy herbs are pulled out the bag, now in your hands. 'Please Gods....please. This has to work...'

|

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You pressed against the cold stone wall of the cave as Polyphemus' voice boomed, shaking the very earth beneath your feet.

From your hidden position you could see Odysseus standing tall even when facing such an overwhelming force.

"There seem to be a misunderstanding," His voice was steady, though you could hear the weight of strategy in every word. "We never came here to steal nor kill what is precious to you."

The conversation was enough of a distraction. And so, while all eyes were on the Cyclops and Odysseus, you seized the moment.

You carefully slip from your hiding place, your eyes locked on the jug of wine sitting nearby.

Using a passing sheep for cover-up, you crept low across the stone floor until you reached it.

Your fingers shook as you uncorked the jug, working quickly despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

With a practiced hand, you pull out the bundle of Nepenthe and Poppy, crumbling the dried herbs into the wine.

You pause at the sight of the Lotus Fruit before quickly squeezing the juice into the mix as well—hopefully it would make him more susceptible to the mix.

As you finished, Odysseus raised hand in a placating gesture. "But now I see the damage we've caused. Maybe you and I can make a deal?"

This was your cue.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked out from behind the sheep with the jug of wine cradled in your arms. 

A soft smile spread across your lips as you called out to the Cyclops.

"Great Polyphemus!" voice laced with awe, your footsteps were light and graceful as you approached. "Forgive my interruption but I could not resist the chance to gaze upon such greatness. At last I find you in all your glory."

Polyphemus' anger faltered, his fiery gaze shifting toward you, massive eye narrowing slightly.

You approached slowly, keeping your movements reverent. "I have been searching for you," you lower your eyes and bow your in show of humility.

"I have heard tales of your strength and power, Son of Poseidon. No mortal can stand against you. Not even these men," you add, casting a glance at Odysseus and the others. "They are beneath you."

The men stirred at your insult, muttering among themselves. Even they seemed to believe your words.

Polyphemus however was intrigued. The light in his eye softened slightly as he observed you, taking in your visage and apparent devotion.

You lift the jug of wine higher, offering it to him. "As a token of my loyalty, I bring you this—wine from distant lands. It is said to have the power to rejuvenate even the mightiest of warriors. One sip, and you shall possess the strength to end them all in a blink of an eye. You needn't waste your time with mere mortals."

You felt the weight of Odysseus' men staring at you in disbelief. You ignore them, focusing only on Polyphemus.

"Knew she was too good to be true!" one of them hissed. "Should've thrown her overboard when we had the chance!"

Hostility simmer as some of the men stiffened, fists tightening around their weapons. Even Eurylochus glared at you with mistrust.

Polyphemus grinned, yellow jagged teeth glinting in the dim light. His ego was clearly pleased by your flattery.

"YOUR WORDS ARE AS RADIANT AS THE FACE THAT SPEAKS THEM." he rumbled, leaning closer. His breath washed over you, foul and warm. "TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"

"I am nobody," you said smoothly, holding his gaze. "Nobody...but a humble servant for thee."

A flicker of understanding passed through Odysseus' eyes. He caught your gaze for a brief moment and you saw the gears turning in his mind.

His lips twitched.

His gaze hardened as he gives a slight, almost imperceptible nod—just enough to show he was on your side.

He trusted you. And that's all that matters.

Polyphemus chuckled. "NOBODY, YOU SAY? THEN NOBODY SHALL SERVE ME. COME CLOSER, POUR THE WINE."

You suppress the shudder crawling up your spine and force your feet to move closer as the Cyclops extends an enormous hand toward you.

For a brief moment the overwhelming stench of him—the musk of sheep, sweat, and earth—fills your senses. It nearly made you gag.

But you keep smiling, even as your hands began to shake when he takes the jug from you.

Slow and deliberate he raises the jug to his lips and take a long drink.

You fought to keep the anxiety from showing on your face, hoping the herbs and lotus fruit in the wine would work.

"AH...STRONG, THIS A FINE WINE." His eye fluttered with a contented sigh as he lick his lips in satisfaction.

"PERHAPS I WILL KILL THEM SLOWLY, JUST TO HEAR THEM SCREAM," Polyphemus muses, more to himself than anyone else. But the momentary distraction gives Odysseus an idea.

"BUT YOU..." He continues, glancing down at you, voice lowering with a hint of possessiveness. "YOU SHALL REMAIN BY MY SIDE AS MY WINE-BEARER. I WILL KEEP YOU TO ADMIRE FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE."

Your stomach churned at the thought—blood running cold at his words, but you kept your sweet smile fixed.

"No!" Odysseus declares stepping forward, his voice rising with protest. "You can't take her!"

The call of defiance took the Cyclops aback. "OH?"

"She's mine. And if you intend to claim her then I demand a fight. Surely a warrior such as yourself knows not take what belongs to another without challenge."

A collective gasp ripples through the men as they stare at their captain in disbelief.

Polities grabs Odysseus' arm, pulling him back with panic in his voice. "Captain wait! You can't—!"

The King of Ithaca shrugs him off, his eyes never leaving the giant.

Polyphemus blinked in surprise before releasing a booming laugh. "YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME MORTAL? A FIGHT AGAINST YOU WOULD BE CHILD'S PLAY."

Odysseus raised his chin with a steely gaze. "I'm willing to take that chance. Let her fate be decided by strength."

The son of Poseidon grinned at the Hero's audacity. "VERY WELL. LET US SEE WHO IS THE STRONGER."

"AND WHEN YOU FALL..." He grabbed his massive club, the sound of it scraping against the stone floor sending shivers down your spine. "I WILL CLAIM HER AS MINE."

But Odysseus stood his ground, hands loose by his sides with a calm expression.

With a low growl Polyphemus lifts the club. But as he prepared to swing, his movements slowed.

He blinked sluggishly, confusion clouding his face as it began to glaze over. The massive club wavered in his hand.

"WHAT IS...THIS?" he slurred, voice thick and heavy. His lidded eye shifts back to you, suspicion dawning too late.

He staggered, the weight of the club suddenly too much for him to bear. "WHAT...HAVE YOU...DONE....?"

Your heart race as the adrenaline coursed through you.

His enormous body swayed as he tried to keep balance. His grip on the club faltered, clattering to the ground with a deafening thud.

Polyphemus clutch his head as his body struggled against the effects of the spiked drink.

Odysseus wasted no time. "Now!" he barked.

In a flurry the Ithacan warriors rushed forward. You watched as they grabbed sharpened stakes and rushed into the Cyclops' single unguarded eye.

Polyphemus released a bloodcurdling roar, the sound shaking the cave walls as he thrashed in agony.

He staggers back, howling in pain, before collapsing with a thunderous crash. Defeated.

Odysseus was at your side in an instant, his eyes sharp and gleaming with pride. "Let's go. Quickly."

You didn't need to be told twice.

You scrambled to the entrance with the men, dragging the spoils of food and sheep along as you made the escape.

Once outside the cool air hit your face like a blessing. You were alive. All of you had survived.

When you finally emerged back onto the shore, the sight of the awaiting ships filled you with relief.

The men were abuzz with energy, laughing and cheering now that they were free of the giant's clutches.

Those who stayed aboard crowded around with cheers as they helped haul sacks of food and provisions on deck—enough to sustain the journey ahead.

You followed behind the last of the group, watching Odysseus make his way up the gangplank. 

But just as he stepped onto the deck he was immediately met by two men—Lycus and Alexander.

The pair looked uneasy, their eyes darting nervously between each other as they shuffled toward him.

Pale-faced, they wrung their hands anxiously and avoided eye contact with their captain.

Odysseus halted with slightly furrowed brows as he glanced at them. He said nothing.

Lycus shifted from foot to foot, voice trembling as he tried to form the words. "C-captain...w-we...uh...we may have..."

"Lost..." Alexander finished, the word barely a whisper as it left his lips.

The King of Ithaca remained silent as he waited for them to explain further.

Both men looked like they were about to buckle under the pressure. Lycus stammered, trying to find the right words. "W-we um...we uh...might have—"

You slid into view from behind Odysseus with a bright smile.

"Huh?" you asked innocently, tone light and playful as though nothing unusual had happened.

Both men froze with wide eyes at the sight of you standing there unharmed and cheerful.

They blinked rapidly, looking between you and Odysseus in disbelief.

Still facing the two men Odysseus only gave a slow confused blink and raised eyebrow.

He glanced back at you for a brief second, then returned his attention to Lycus and Alexander, silently waiting for them to finish their explanation.

"W-what was that?" you mockingly added, your smile never wavering as you watch them squirm.

"N-nothing!" Lycus blurted out before looking to Odysseus in slight panic. "Nothing at all sir!"

"Y-yeah nothing Captain!" Alexander echoed, nodding frantically in agreement. "Everything's perfectly fine!"

Odysseus tilted his head slightly. Though his expression was neutral, a flicker of amusement glinted in his eyes.

Without saying a word he give a curt nod, dismissing them with a simple gesture.

Lycus and Alexander didn't waste a second—they quickly stumbled out of sight, muttering hurried excuses.

As they fled, Odysseus turned back to you. He crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded you with a knowing look. "Well...care to explain that?"

You met his gaze with a grin and offer a casual shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine."

[fukashiin]

catching them staring at you + catching you staring at them

— w. heartslabyul and octavinelle

⤷ a heart forgets caution when you're around.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

when you catch him staring at you.

doused in the celestial light that streams down from the unforgiving heavens, riddle ogles at you, jaw-slacked, as if a monument breathed its way back to life to grace him with its mythical beauty forged by the hands of god. who could blame him when you're both sat on the window ledge, admiring the endless skies that descends onto the earth, gleaming patches of foliage and sea shores that befalls on to the earthly soil.

"are you going to keep staring at me like that? it's getting embarrassing." you cup the plump cheeks that grows heated under the eyes of riddle as every second passes by, wondering if he's even taking in what you just said. you try your hardest to ignore the great turmoil that churns in your stomach as you await his response.

"ah-" he squeaks, "my..apologies. i was lost in thought." he and you both knew he wasn't.

he's neck-deep in the sloshing waters of his thoughts that he calls you. he wishes he could run—maybe even teeter a bit—when the thought, scent, and touch of you pops up in his mind and overflows the rest of it that lingered with the austere memories of his mother and countless magic-driven tomes.

but you were his salvation. the impalpable warrior to his raging nightmares and daydreams that he wishes he could just run away with. away from the peering eyes and faraway roars that submerges him deep into the boundless chasms of the earth.

but you ground him. bring him back onto the surface where you exist.

"you're super cute." you admit and try to siffle another giggle that rides up your throat when a cloudy pink appears onto his cheeks. "where could that have possibly come from?" he bites back, trying and failing to sound as threatening as he could. luckily for you, he doesn't have the heart to do that to the person he very much cherishes.

"it's okay," breathing out a few of the last words that you wanted only riddle to hear, you pull him in by his collar, grabby hands that yearns for the taste of his mouth, and pull him in for a kiss, excited for the future trysts you were about to have with him after this one. "you can stare at me for as long as you'd like."

CATER DIAMOND

when you catch him staring at you.

prolific accounts that roam free across the surface of magicam, cohesive influencers that collaborate to garner a larger audience and fans worldwide for the sake of being seen. but cater doesn't, and can't see that in you.

with his chin resting in the sweaty palms of his hands, he twirls a smooth tendril of his ginger hair and swirling fake mustaches atop of his mouth while he stares at you from afar beneath all the humdrum. there you were, jotting your notes away. skin rubbing against the lined-paper and your hair rustling at the slightest motion of your head across your clothed shoulders.

a picture-perfect visage that rivals those of widely-admired artisans' works of the centuries. one that battles face-to-face with the soaring sunsets and the routinely pruned rose bushes that he thought were pretty enough that pools filled with models and mascara could never compare. but you—apparently could?

"is something the matter?" the sudden capture of his gaze veers his mind into another state of panic. what options of recourse would there be now that you caught him red-handed?

he balked at the idea of you teasing him. "nothing! nothing at all, promise." he conveys a clear thumbs up when he catches you raising a doubtful brow, a captor questioning the suspect when the chances of getting out of his slippery mire was close to zero. you mumble a barely audible okay and slide back into your usual activities.

shortly afterwards, a moment-long snap! sharply cuts through the tense air like a butter knife that slices through a block of butter.

you whip your head towards the sound, as you see cater suspended in the position he was situated in. phone in hands, eyes wide and fidgety. a shoddy attempt to take a picture of you.

"..oops?"

TREY CLOVER

when he catches you staring at him.

splat! thick blotches of cake batter splatters onto the nearby table, tarnishing its reflective surface from the sticky mixture that subsisted off of beaten-up eggs and flour. trey halts and lowers his arm, trying to gauge the untimely situation that unfurled right in front of him then and there. his mixture developed under the guidance of his handy spatula sits untouched, weirdly so.

"y/n?" he calls out your name, purposing himself to walk towards the area you were just standing at. he tries to swat away any thoughts that clouded his mind, namely, you in danger. he loves and spoils you too much, even the hot breaths that fanned against the shell of your ears tighten your chest, wanting more and more.

"t-trey!" seemingly, there's nothing wrong. but an explanation should be out of the question. "uh.."

he places a defined hand on your shoulder, depriving you of any other idealistic excuses to fling his way. you chew the seams of your lips, squirming internally and at yourself to recall any past methods to make use of in the current situation that took ahold of your entire body. "staring at my arms again?"

"don't blame me!" retorting as quick as a bullet train, you raise your arms up in failing defence when he catches you, again—for staring at those forearms of his. the natural stature he possesses does nothing but floods out the rest of the sanity your were desperately holding on to.

a hearty chuckle bubbles up his throat and he lets it out like the dear he is. what an old man.

"be good for me and get the dish cloth that's hanging just right about there, okay?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

when he catches you staring at him.

"did not!"

as the heated tension crackles in the air, ace points an accusatory finger towards you in an attempt to burgle a reasonable defence out of you. so what if you were gawking so shamelessly at the way he threads his fingers through his hair, how post-match sweat dripped at the tip of his chin, the very picture of indulgence. anyone would've buckled their knees at the sight of that. "you'll need something more concrete than that, babe."

effusions of longing clung onto the weight of your heart, weaving through past memories and times you've spent with him as your presence travels back in time. miscalculated opportunities clawed your mind with an animalistic touch, summoning something much deeper hence a bitter aftertaste.

something in you snaps.

ace tries to hide down his upcoming laughter when he inches his face closer to yours, heaving breaths that ignite a spark of forbidden electricity which surges through your entire system, eliciting a tiny yelp out of you. you clench and release your aching hands, hungering for the featherlight touch of his lips soothing against yours. your mouth suddenly feels lonely.

"but, i like that." he strokes your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, "you staring at me like your life depends on it. makes me feel wanted."

no more fooling around.

you both sit still in the position you were placed in. the drab air that used to cloak your beating hearts under the dim lights seems so much more needling than before. it provokes the hidden conviction that tears at the sky-high boundaries of your mind, provoking you to make the first move.

are you holding back like the way he is?

DEUCE SPADE

when you catch him staring at you.

a fiery ember singed his veins, lighting up a trail of wanton desires through his arms that leaves a state of chaos imprinted into his mind. he's fighting a one man army, trying his absolute hardest to utilise what options he could make use of at the moment, however expedient they may seem. god forsake him, while he tries to steady his breath and moisten his lips when you have your head perched on the broad of his shoulders.

he racks him mind for countless possible spiels he could come up with in a matter of seconds once you awoke from your soundless slumber, also acknowledging the fact that he may not scurry his way out under the gaze of your scrutiny.

"y/n.." he tries to prod the crown of your head, while also holding back onto the amount of persistence that laced within.

but it's so unfair.

how could you look so beautiful, drenched in the rivers of the molten sunrise where the beams fractured between your eyelashes and onto your face, a scene that sways hand-in-hand with the times where starlight illuminated your dancing figures on the beach's seashore, waves of glitter and sea findings gifted by the depths of the deep that rides up to your ankles.

how could he not catch his breath when his eyes settled on you?

his gaze lingers on for a little while longer before the scrunch of your nose brings him back to reality. the ends of your lips take a small upturn at how easy it was to fool a man like him. he wishes he weren't so oblivious the way he is the next moment.

"i know you're staring, deuce."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

when you catch him staring at you.

as if a vortex was sucking him in, blurred implications and foggy amazement was embedded into his mind at the unrealism of your beauty while you glanced up at the swerving fishes and sea creatures manoeuvring side to side. his fingers twitched, longing for the contact of your skin flushed against his, as he pulls you in for a kiss.

he can't get the turmoil that thundered in his head out. him being with the person who dipped his heart in a pool of gold, who acted as a lifelong sentry that shielded him from the outside world and threats that dared to come forth? unthinkable.

but here you were. standing with him, stood in an aquarium nestled deep beneath the murky waters of the sea, just as he offered. you probably wouldn't think that the sea would publish any aquariums, but every once in a while, he wanted to take the time off to showcase a few of the treasuries that anyone had yet to find out about.

your skin was riddled with the gentlest touch of blue, crystal-clear as the skies of the day where the rain was no more. the sight of something so ethereal, standing before him, etched onto his mind where the rising filth of his past lived in.

you glance to the side and catch him, still as a statue. and he's brought back to reality, by something as simple as the lovely timbre of your voice. you hope he's ready for the teasing that waits to ambush him when you two get back to the dorms. "azul! what're those called?"

"hm..?" he pushes the bridge of his spectacles up again, adjusting it so he could take a good look at what you were pointing at. you could say he's pleasantly surprised. "ah, those?"

he takes a step forward and joins you in on your inspection. "they're what i call you, angelfish."

JADE LEECH

when you catch him staring at you.

"you're the perfect muse fitted for this task, i thank you greatly."

you were specially chosen as a muse for the latest art project that recently pounced on him last minute, grief to the forgotten research of the latest species of mushroom that had yet to come out as anything else other than nebulous. that only beckoned him to finish this particular task, first.

"will you angle your face just a bit to the left, dear?"

you abided, and tilted your sun-kissed face to where he was jerking his head at. there you were, perched on top of a criss-cross picnic blanket while graced with a multitude of luscious fruits sitting by your side, as you held up freshly-picked strawberries between the different width of your fingers. dressed in a flowy outfit beautified in frills and lace, and different pearls ornamented across your neck that draped over your collarbone.

jade had his easel brought from home rested amongst the tall grass, sketchpad in its stand and pencil in the movement of his hand. few times where smudged pencil led smeared against the side of his palm, few times where he lost focus by the sight of you.

the beaming rays of the sun that smiled upon your skin and kissed it with its blinding light, as you bathe in the balmy weather that shone across large patches of grass and buildings alike.

jade was in love.

he halts his sketching duties for a few moments, luxuriating in the mere sight of you, how you hold yourself, how you reminded him of summer romances and tender play-fights underneath the bed sheets. how, you were so otherwordly.

it's almost criminal how someone as beautiful as you can exist in this tainted world—so much that he doesnt realise the eyes that strayed away from his work and onto the heated flesh of your face. you notice the loss of the sound of rough sketching against the paper, and gradually looked at jade as your eyes met his.

"laying a little thick on the staring there, don't you think?"

and just like that, everything that was properly arranged, from the resting sketchpad—to the different mediums placed in a metal tin nearby—winds up tumbling to the ground. himself included.

welp.

FLOYD LEECH

when he catches you staring at him.

floyd takes multiple sideswipes across the court, weaving through hurdles of opponents that tried but miserably failed to take down his figure that charged through burdening people from the opposing team. he makes a startling turn to the rear, bolts his legs off the ground and leaps as high as how Hermes was in his prime, quick and furious as the raging wind.

he lands with a loud blow, and the stadium breaks out in an undying state of pandemonium.

you've heard rumours of how high floyd can jump that abounded between the school walls—it was even mentioned to be near-comedic, but he snatched your breath away, crumbled it beneath his feet and razed the entire city to the ground until mere rubble and shards of glass was all that was left. theoretically—if he actually wanted to.

and you can't help but gawk. at the tall stature that yielded victory in his hands in a glorious light, how the hem of those basketball shorts flared against his thighs as he jogs through the court, sending high-fives to his teammates and accidentally striking jamil in the head.

oh, how such a rare moment presented to you makes you want to spurt in his direction and throw your arms around his body.

you sat there, awestruck by his beauty that ensconced you in its presence. a rush of blood warms your cheek, as you slowly rose your phone up in your hands to seize the opportunity to take a recording of him basking in his splendour.

a split second later, he takes sight of you in his field of vision, emits a small snicker and calls out to you. "y/n! think fast!"

"wha-" he grabs the headband that circled his head, took it off, and flung it to where you were sat. you quickly lunged your body forward to reach out for it, fumbling with the fabric in your hands and eventually relaxed in your seat. you smiled, and wrapped it around your wrist, producing multiple layers to envelop it in the warmth.

you whisper a small "thank you" as you looked at him, the love growing in your eyes like a sprout that craved for its growth, akin to how you were trying to hold yourself back from running up to him this second. you then remember—that nothing is holding you back.

[aceparagon]

still finding an outfit that goes with these nouliths / milpreves / wings, but this fit is kinda growing on me ngl.

[tenebriism]

// Listen. It's not cheating if your husband, @hyaciiintho , ALSO has his biases, whom he would also lovingly embrace, and whose chest he would happily stuff his face into, WITH the wedding ring on still. It's a very healthy, balanced relationship.

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (12) - You Know How Much You Broke Me Apart

LOOK!!! I CAN FINALLY SHARE THIS!!! ❤❤❤ I commissioned this absolutely BEAUTIFUL art from @ritzeldraws of the dance scene in this chapter! It's so beautiful- it captures their expressions and feelings perfectly and it's been my iPad background for months waiting to be unveiled! It's so lovely and I'm beyond happy that I got the opportunity to request this. :") Thank you again!! (They're dancing to Duvet by Boa btw, just in case you thought it was a happy dance)

Prepare your tissues for this chapter 💕 It's sad, and my song choice is awful (sarcasm) but you'll recognize it if you've watched Cyberpunk Edgerunners. No happy endings in Night City 💔

Please enjoy!

Chapter Summary: A brush with death leads to denied realizations from Astarion when Ofelia suffers a fatal wound. After she recovers, the party takes a group photo with Ofelia's revived phone- courtesy of Gale- and they all dance the night away trying to forget about their next objective: taking down the goblin leaders. The unlikely pair's slow dance leads to a drunken confession, and further torment appears in the form of a dream visitor wearing the visage of a former friend from Ofelia's past...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,811

Have some dance pics below the link!!! ❤ (peep the accidental cursor lol)

✧˖Tag List: @khywren

Opening under the cut!

Astarion tries not to think too hard about the way her eyes had been so sweet one moment, and the next had snapped like someone had wrung a child’s neck in front of her. She’d been very successful hiding her tone, but the eyes never lie, and hers were like cold dead stars. Empty and black.

He watches her come out of the broken mill, face impassive, before her brows twitch and a sheepish frown pulls at her lips.

“Lae’zel… I’m really sorry. I should have listened… you know way more about any of these things than me.” 

“No matter. It is normal for warriors to exchange furried words in the heat of battle. Apologies are not necessary, but I will offer mine as well. What were you retrieving?” Ofelia lights up and holds out the little rectangle she’d pried off the goblin.

“My phone! I found it! It plays music!” She grins at Lae’zel earnestly and the gith looks at her a moment before turning away.

“I take it back.” Ofelia sticks her tongue out at Lae’zel’s retreating back before gathering the rest of them close. They disclose the identity of the gnome they’d pulled off the mill, the man walking away towards the treacherous temple ahead- nothing they could do to stop him.

“Okay, we’ve got what? A bugbear behind that building?” She asks, keen eyes darting to the left. Gale nods. “Three trolls in that building there, another four goblins around the back of the old apothecary. Then it’s the road down to the temple. And that sounds like way too many for us to tackle with sunset so close…” She presses a finger to her lips, deep in thought.

“We could break into groups, at least take out the rest here a little at a time?” Karlach asks, her eyes flashing towards the trolls.

“Okay… let’s balance the teams. Karlach, Gale? Trolls?” The two specified nod, though the wizard with less enthusiasm. “The bugbear… Lae’zel and I.” Astarion tuts.

“What about me, darling? I hope you’re not considering pairing me with these two?” He jerks his chin at Wyll and Shadowheart and the latter rolls her eyes at him and graces him with a rude hand gesture. Ofelia flicks her eyes up to him, darkness flaring in them, before she turns her chin away.

“Okay. Come with Lae’zel and me.” He grins, and though they can do without the wet blanket, he’ll trust Ofelia’s judgment. He slides next to her, brows creasing when she stiffens, but she flashes a warm smile at him and his concern ebbs. She’s started behaving like a timid little thing around him and it’s sweet, almost as sweet as her usual red cheeks and tender warmth. What a lovely thing she’ll be to indulge in when she finally lets him devour her whole.

Ofelia lets him pounce on the passed-out bugbear and he preens at the opportunity to show off, lodging his dagger into the neck of the beast as it roars in anguish. He dances out of range of its angry swipes, leaping away gracefully thanks to the meal she’d provided him this morning. Ofelia strums a little tune to embolden Lae’zel and with a final cleave of the githyanki’s greatsword, the creature collapses into a puddle of blood and sour ale. Vile smelling, at that.

“There are lots of supplies lying around, would be good to take them back to camp after we’re done here.” Ofelia murmurs to Lae’zel and the other woman grunts in acknowledgement.

“Ahh yes, moldy cheese wheels and old brandy. Hardly a feast,” He drops said bottle, her eyes meeting his again and he can see that razor-thin edge beneath like a yawning abyss, void and unseeing. He blinks and it’s gone, replaced by dry humor. When she looks away towards an old barn, he frowns. She’s behaving strangely. At least something useful had come from his centuries of torment- the power of observation. And he’s very good at it.

Had it been what he’d said? Perhaps it was a little��� cold. Not that it matters, really. But it does now, and he’ll need to remedy it once the opportunity arises. He rolls his eyes inwardly, breathing out a sigh. Why is it so hard to win her affections? She’d even admitted the first time he’d drank from her how much she likes vampires, that should have won him some points, surely? All he needs is for her to agree to a gods damned night with him and he can take the rest from there. It’d be easy to pretend to care at that point. Clinical, even.

[tenuuchlegch]

Finally, the moment you have all been waiting for... Odtsetseg’s mom and twin. Oda get’s his father’s looks obviously. I’ll write more about them in a separate post, but consider the white mage class quests filled by Yui and the Dark Knight class quests filled by Oda. :>

[vibratingskull]

Hi! Can I make a request of Thrawn xF!reader with some angst.

They are chiss abroad the chimaera and she feels insecure that Thrawn would rather a chiss partner over her.

reader is very emotional either she she just found out she is pregnant or she has recently given birth.

She tries to avoid showing this to Thrawn but he figures it out.

What's nice when you are in a couple with Thrawn and feeling down is that Thrawn will do everything in his power to lift you up and soothe you 😩😩😩😩 And that's the best truly...

Thrawn x F!reader

Tags: Chiss being haughty, early pregnancy, morning sickness, Thrawn being supportive and loving

You look over your shoulder and feel your heart constrict painfully. 

Thrawn is smiling, speaking Cheuhn with other Chiss.  

He seems so... relaxed and peaceful. In a way you rarely saw in the intimacy of your suite.  

With you, his own wife... 

You try to focus on your console but the notes of his lyrical voice reach your ears and with it his soft chuckle. His eyes gleam brighter to be around his fellows, to be home for some moments before their departure. They seem to exchange some jokes and pleasant words as they all smile tightly. They sometimes look around the bridge, clearly judging the crew with their ruby eyes. 

You do not understand Cheuhn, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand that they are criticizing your works, comparing them to their Chiss standards. Thrawn doesn’t seem to correct them.  

Is he... displeased with all of you? 

Did he only just pretend to be satisfied by his crew but secretly judge everyone, regretting his former navy of Chiss officers and warriors? 

That doesn’t sound like him, but if he is good at something it’s hiding his true thoughts and feelings. Even you have difficulties guessing his true mood some days. 

You wipe a drop of sweat off your temple as you feel nausea rising again... 

Erk. 

You had morning sickness for a month now, and get really tired of it. You swallow with difficulty, trying to chase away the sick feeling. 

The last weeks were pretty turbulent with the Grysk’s threat, you didn’t find the time nor the energy to announce your pregnancy to him... 

 You cannot help but keep giving discreet sideglances at the Chiss group.  

Thrawn is among his people.  

At peace.  

Smiling.  

Visibly satisifed. 

He even playfully pinches the cheek of the young Chiss girl. 

His eyes shine with a new light that you never saw.  

His voice is slightly higher than usual, more light and musical... 

You never saw him like that with anyone. 

Not even you... 

You thought you had access to all his visages but you realize at this instant that he took care to hide some from you. Only revealing them to his compatriots. 

Are you not... Good enough to know all of him? All of his facets? 

Do you not deserve it as his lover and wife? 

Apparently not... 

You gulp, lowering your gaze to your keyboard, the acidic waves of your stomach rising dangerously. You shake your head and type your commands on the screen. The very least you can do right now is perform the best you can at your job to not humiliate the Empire in the eyes of Thrawn’s fellows. 

The Empire... Or yourself. 

“Captain (F/n).” Thrawn calls your name. 

You sigh, gathering your strength before standing up. You approach the Chiss group that looks at you up and down like hungry predators. They are looking for any signs of weakness and flaws, watching if you will stumble and fall in any type of way.  

Anything that would prove that they are the superior species. 

You feel cold sweat rolling down your neck and your vision starts to double slightly. Thrawn turns his head to his compatriots when you reach their vicinity. 

“This is the Chimaera’s Captain, (Y/n) (F/n). A lot of my operations rest on her shoulders.” He explains. 

‘The Chimaera’s Captain’... 

Not ‘my Captain.’ 

Not ‘my wife’... 

‘The Chimaera’s Captain’ 

Plain and simple. 

No bounds, no link to him. 

Is he ashamed of you? Is that why he took care not to associate himself with you in the eyes of the Chiss? 

Did he feel like he failed by marrying you? 

Are you a stain on his Chiss pride? A course’s error in his perfect ascension? Something to be corrected in the future? 

Would he have preferred to wed a Chiss rather than a mere human? 

“Can you show the results of your task, Captain?” Thrawn asks formally, “I prophetized some interesting variables in the Grysk’s route, but I want to be certain.” 

You take your datapad to invoke your data on the screen, scrolling to search for Thrawn’s demanded result.  

“I found some... interesting...” You start before falling silent. 

You slowly blink, feeling the light getting brighter and the acidic waves rising in your esophagus. 

Without any warning, you shove your datapad in Thrawn’s hand and run to the door of the bridge. You only hear some outraged exclamations in Cheuhn as the door closes back behind you. 

You sprint and barge into the first bathroom on your way and throw yourself on your knees before the toilet bowl to vomit your tripes out. 

You gag, shaken by nausea, sweat dripping from your temples, your stomach contracting painfully. You spit and cough, at a loss for air. You pant, holding the bowl with your trembling hands. You fall on your ankles with a sigh, wiping the sweat off your forehead. 

You sniff, wiping a single tear from your cheek. You are tired and tense, you just want a nap or a full good night's sleep. 

That would be nice... 

“Are you feeling better?” Thrawn’s voice rises behind your back making you jump on the spot. 

“Maker!” You curse. 

You immediately flush to not impose such a view or odor on him. You are embarrassed enough like that. You lose your balance in the motion and as you are about to hit the floor you feel Thrawn’s powerful hands grabbing you delicately, preventing you from hurting yourself. 

“Sit, Ch’acah.” He invites softly, “Do not hurt yourself.” 

He helps you sit before wetting a handkerchief to pat your forehead, kneeling before you. 

You cannot look him in the eyes. Your head is low as he presses the wet fabric on the back of your neck to lower your body temperature. 

“What happened, Ch’acah?” He asks gently. 

You sniff, silent. 

His hand comes to hold your chin delicately to force you to look at him, his shiny red eyes investigating yours. 

You gulp. 

“Speak to me. Do not stay alone in your discomfort.” 

“Nothing. Just some nausea, it will pass.” You brush it under the rug, not ready to confront him. 

“You appeared displeased earlier. Is something bothering you?” He continues softly. 

“No.” You lie. 

His hand releases your chin to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin tenderly. 

“I know when you lie to me, Ch’acah.” He simply informs you. 

You bite your lower lips, your throat dry. 

“I... I just never realized how much you missed your people. To the point...” You cannot finish your sentence. 

“To the point?” 

“... Of regretting getting with me.” 

You fidget your fingers with apprehension. 

It was said, no backing down now... 

He blinks, questions flashing in his red eyes before disappearing, replaced by absolute determination. 

“What are you talking about, (Y/n)?” He demands. 

The tone is still soft but more pressing. 

“That you clearly feel more at ease with other Chiss. Which I understand completely!” You assure, “It’s just that... It was clear to me that you would have preferred a Chiss companion rather than a human.” 

“Rather than you?” He clarifies. 

You shrug, pursing your lips. What difference does it make in the end? 

His other hand cup your second cheek as he bores his eyes into yours, commanding your attention. 

“Where does that idea come from? Why do you think I regret marrying you?” He demands again. 

“I never saw you so... Bubbly before. You are so much more relaxed with them than with us. Or with me for that matters.” 

He considers you, an air of slight confusion dancing on his gorgeous face. 

“Cha’cah... How could I ever regret marrying you? You are the best decision of my life.” He finally says, “I never regretted saying ‘yes’ to you.” 

You raise your gaze to meet his, still unsure. 

“I was simply pleased to cross paths with a young girl I met when she was still only 12. Seeing them thrive is so rare and I was pleased to see how far she’s gone.” 

You wipe another single tear. 

“I am sorry Thrawn, I'm just...” And you explode in tears. 

You’re too tired, too tense, too hormonal, too stressed to think straight in this instant. You only wish to sleep for several hours in peace. 

“(Y/n), (Y/n), (Y/n)...” Thrawn calls in a murmur, “I would never leave you for any possible reason. You are my wife, my partner, my lover, cheo Cha’cah. Dry your tears my sweet, I am with you always.” 

“It’s stupid but when you didn’t introduce me as your wife to them I thought you had enough of me.” You sob, realizing how stupid it might sound. 

“Of course, I did not present you as my wife: You deserve to be known for your accomplishments and hard work, not for any bond you have with me. Do not define yourself by me, you earned your rank of Captain and are worthy to be known as such.” 

“I was afraid you were ashamed of me!” You keep sobbing hard, trying to get back your breath. 

He takes you in his arms, pressing you tight against himself. 

“I am not ashamed of you. Quite the contrary, I feel proud and empowered to have you at my arm. The right to hold your hand and call you mine is the greatest privilege of my life. Please Ch’acah; never doubt it.” 

“I am so sorry!” You cry hard, squeezing him back, “Thrawn I am so sorry!” 

“Do not be. Everything is all right, I am here, with you. I am not going anywhere...” 

You bury your face in his neck, digging your nails into the pristine fabric of his white uniform, inhaling his reassuring and familiar scent. 

“I am so sorry...” You repeat like a litany. 

He cradles you gently, caressing your hair and back with his large comforting hands. 

“I love you Ch’acah. Do not doubt my words, my heart only beats for you.” 

You nod against his neck, slowly calming down. 

He parts from you but holds your cheek again with his warm soft palm. 

“Are you feeling better?” He inquires with a whisper. 

You nod again, sniffing away the last remnant of your tears. 

“Do... Do you mind reintroducing me as both your Captain and wife?” You ask, still a bit on edge. 

It may be childish of you, but you want them to know that you are married together. 

Despite what he said, being married to him is part of your pride. 

“Of course I can, if you truly want it Cha’cah. We can meet them again later, I will be delighted to announce them our union.” He presses his forehead against yours, looking straight into your soul. “Do you feel better?” 

You nod, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. You need to brush your teeth. 

“Maybe take one hour of rest in our suite.” He gently proposes. 

“No.” You shake your head assured, “I am the Chimaera’s Captain, I cannot disappear for so long. I do not want to be treated differently than all my colleagues because I married you.” 

“And it is honorable of you. If you feel better come back on the bridge swiftly but do not hesitate to visit the med bay if symptoms persist, I recall you were already sick the week prior.” He declares raising back on his feet. 

Ah yes... You didn’t reveal to him why you were sick so he got the wrong diagnosis, thinking it was a simple flu, and that you would be on your feet in no time! 

“Thrawn.” You grab him by the sleeve to stop him from leaving, “I have something to tell you.”  

He considers you in silence, judging by your body language and tone if he should start to worry about something. 

“A problem perhaps?” He invastigates. 

“No. A news.” You shake your head with a tight grin, “Good news... at least I hope.” 

He looks at you from all his height. Your hand releases his sleeve to hook his fingers with yours. He properly takes your hand to squeeze it in his large one. 

You admire the contrast between your human skin tone and his deep vibrant blue... 

“I am listening Ch’acah.” He invites. 

You breath deeply, gathering your courage. 

“I am pregnant.” 

He remains perfectly still and silent for a moment. You look at him, your lips pressed together, awaiting his judgment with a beating heart. 

“Is that true?” He finally asks, with a slightly tensed voice, “Is it possible?” 

You nod. 

“I am three months in. That’s why I was sick last week and right now.” 

He pulls on your hand, forcing you to stand up from your sitting position. You just have the time to yelp, you are suddenly squeezed tight in his embrace. His long arms are holding you so tight you have difficulty breathing. You hear his comforting purr starting to resonate in the bathroom. 

“Thank you, (Y/n).” He finally whispers in your ear, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “Thank you...” 

You silently hug him back, nuzzling aginst his tall stature with pleasure, feeling your anxiety melt away in his arms. 

“Are you happy?” You ask. 

“Yes. It is marvelous news.” He presses his cheek to yours, “I stopped hoping for a child years ago. But here you are, pregnant with mine. Ch’acah, you have no idea how happy it makes me. You are spoiling me.” 

“You are about to become a father, Thrawn.” You repeat to him, and the more you say it the louder and deeper the purr gets. 

You hug each other in one of those rare moments of intimacy on a warship, feeling like a team again, ready to face anything thrown at you. 

Even those Grysks. 

@bluechiss @Thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil_urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037 @leo4242564 @davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, again with ideas for your new event. Hope nobody made you uncomfortable. I want interaction between Ramshackle ghosts and Baul (for somebody who don't know:it's Sebeks' grandpa) or Zigvolt siblings

Or interaction Mrs. Zigvolt with Mrs.Spade about "oh what good young mans are growing, just little rowdy, don't you think so? "

Dylla (Mrs. Spade) has been getting a lot of interactions, so I decided to give Baur and the Ramshackle Ghosts some time in the limelight :>

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Behold, grandfather—the majesty that is Diasomnia’s lounge…!” Sebek presented the room with all the flair and bravado of a ringmaster in the final show-stopping act of the circus.

The stoney walls lined with tapestries were tall, creating a massive chamber where sounds echoed into the night. Wooden tables with candelabras littered the room, circled by leather furniture. To one side, a lonely fireplace. A set of matching staircases led to an upper floor where a grand throne with dragon wings awaited, lit an ominous violet.

“You may seat here… or there.. or here… if you so wish!!” Sebek cried, pointing. “On cold days, we light the fireplace to ensure that Diasomnia is well-heated! And right up there is where the young master sits while we gaze up and salute his noble visage!!”

Baur let out a growly hmph—something Sebek had come to learn as a sign of begrudging acceptance. “It still pales in comparison to Castle Blackscale and Castle Wildrose’s throne rooms, but it I suppose it is adequate,” he sniffed.

“I am pleased to hear that we have your seal of approval, sir!!” The first year’s smile was toothy, showing all of his pearly whites.

Baur’s chest warmed. He fought to keep his mouth straight—but the corner of it betrayed him, lifting.

But it didn’t last.

Over Sebek’s shoulder, the air seemed to shift, as if an image rippling in a pond. A pale face slowly materialized. Bulging eyes, bulbous nose, shockingly blue mouth cavity and dangling tongue.

Adrenaline shot through his veins, synapses firing on all cylinders.

“GET DOWN!!” Baur commanded at the top of his lungs.

“What—!!”

Sebek had only cocked his head halfway back when grandfather tackled him. With his full weight crashing into Sebek’s at full speed, the two hurtled onto the floor, tumbling behind a leather sofa. Placing a hand on his grandson’s head, Baur forced his head close to the ground. His eyes darted around the room, quickly surveying their surroundings.

Where did it go…?!

“G-Grandfather, what is going on?!” Sebek demanded. Pinned down flat on his stomach, he appeared less like a knight and more like a startled puppy. “Please, if you’ve sensed enemies nearby, allow me to prove my mettle by lending my assistance!”

“I saw it behind you!! It can appear and disappear, slipping into the shadows,” Baur snapped—not at Sebek, but out of habit. “You mustn’t let your guard down, or it could be the last of…”

“Um, ‘scuse me…” a voice offered. It came from beneath Baur’s boots.

A white head in a top hat poked out from between the warrior’s feet. When his eyes met it, the ghost gave a sheepish grin. “Is now a bad time to do jumpscares?”

“You charged at that other guy like a magift player in the tie-breaking round,” cackled a voice from within the walls. A long, withered face protruded from a portrait of Malleus. “I thought you were going to snap his neck!”

“Even ghosts start feelin’ a little bad sometimes,” sighed a third. Round, full-bodied, and fazing through an armchair.

Sebek blinked. “Oh, it’s just the Ramshackle Ghosts.”

“The what?!” Flabbergasted, Baur careened, releasing Sebek from his grip.

The first year stood, brushing off his uniform. “The Ramshackle Ghosts?” he repeated. “They are the spirits that haunt a defunct dormitory. The ghosts roam the campus on occasion, seeking scares to keep their boredom at bay. They are a normal fixture of Night Raven College.”

“I-I see…” Baur fumbled, but managed to clear his throat. An attempt to save face, to look confident. “W-Well! I certainly hope you are thankful that I took the necessary precautions to ensure your safety! Doubtless you would have been able to handle this threat by your lonesome!!”

“Hm?” Ghost A made a face. “… I dunno about you boys, but it looked to me like you were scared of us laying a hand on the kid.”

“Same here,” B said.

“Ditto.”

"N-Nonsense!! What utter nonsense you spout…!” Baur insisted, his volume rapidly climbing, cheeks flaming. “Y-You have NO IDEA what my true intentions may be, but it is most certainly NOT to protect this… this grandson of mine!!”

“Grandfather…”

The ghosts interrupted, each of them cackling loudly.

“Awww, he’s shy!”

“He looks scary, but he’s actually a super good guy deep down. Looks can be deceiving.”

“It’s okay,” Ghost B reassured Baur. “We’ve been around for a while. We know you care without you having to say it.”

“AS I SAID…!”

“… GRANDFATHER!!!” Sebek’s voice crashed like thunder upon the earth. He straightened, his mouth stretched wife as he saluted Baur. “SIR!! I’m most thankful to be under your watchful eye!!”

“Huh?!” The Ramshackle Ghosts glanced at one another.

“I was not sharp enough to sense an enemy sneaking up on me from behind. Hnnngh…! It is frustrating, but I completely confess it was the result of my own inadequacy! Please, grandfather…! I implore you, teach this Sebek your ways!!”

He bowed deeply, his back frighteningly parallel with the ground.

Baur and the ghosts gawked at him.

“Hey, uh… kid? You alright th—”

C’s question was cut off by a rumbling chuckle. Baur folded his arms and straightened himself. He was the drill sergeant, and Sebek, his soldier awaiting molding.

“SO BE IT THEN!!” Baur declared, puffing his chest outward. “I will teach you my ways, since you show such potential.”

Sebek’s eyes sparkled. His cheeks were the delicate pink of rosebuds. “Yes…! I promise I won’t disappoint you, sir!”

“… Is it just me, or is this family a little weird?” A asked the other two ghosts.

“Nope, it’s not just you.”

“This is definitely a weird family.”