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zetto-protection-squad · 7 months ago

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Fun conversation topic: What would be your peak SELF INDULGENT version of TOME?

I started thinking recently about how the RPG is a big outlier in the TOME franchise (is it accurate to call it a franchise?) because I feel to me personally that the "you die in the game you die in real life" elements were what really hooked me on to begin with. However, the RPG itself has some nice elements to it; the more in-depth game mechanics, RPG Flamegirl by herself, etc etc...

However, I'm never a "Fuck Canon" kind of fan; moreso a "I love this, but how would I make it better?" kind of fan.

Even so, I think it's important to understand the difference between if a piece of media does something poorly versus if a piece of media simply didn't do something you didn't enjoy. Such as, TTA Flamegirl is a poorly written female character, BUT me not enjoying RPG Alpha doesn't mean that he is inherently poorly written. Remember, there is inherently a huge difference between the creator's intention with their story, and what you as the audience PERSONALLY want from their story.

That being said, the questions stand:

What would be your peak SELF INDULGENT version of TOME? Which plotlines (TTA/2011/RPG) would you want to encapsulate the most? Which versions of each of the main 7 would you want to explore this plotline?

I've pitched this concept to my friends (Thank you for your support @d-buggers-org + @mechcity-skyline !), but some wanted to see this as a public prompt so here you go!

Remember, I'm writing all this from a place of love! I NEVER want to say "Fuck Canon"; I simply want to gush about my favorite elements from each TOME variant, and daydream about what will satiate my own self indulgence for a series that means a lot to me :]!

Under the cut would be my own personal "P.S.I." version of TOME (will refer to it as "my PSI-TOME for short throughout this essay); so get ready for TOME, [insert Mod Blue's real name] version!

Which plotlines (TTA/2011/RPG) would you want to encapsulate the most?

I'm going to immediately start out the gate with the controversies BUT...

TV TOME Adventures.

Like I said in my intro, it was TOME (2011 in particular)'s "you die in the game you die in real life" plotline that really hooked me onto the series!

However... something about the air of TTA alone is very different than 2011. I think it feels much darker, plotlines such as the forbidden season 4, Ericho's mind being trapped in the gang, Kirbopher1111's descent, Motherboard's corruption and the shadow clones??

Maybe it's because it's a longer series, or maybe, by my own account, "I am a dramatic bitch", I think I would love to see a lot of the TTA plotlines polished to be feasible for a more advanced series. They are the building blocks for the franchise, after all!

Overall I think it would be interesting to explore TTA by itself, and its full potential when working with its building blocks; cutting the fat where you could tell it was initially written by a random teenager and polishing the interesting concepts presented in TTA that aren't in 2011. I also think me wanting TTA's plotline in particular is an interesting conundrum when taking into account my other question...

Which versions of each of the main 7 would you want to explore this plotline?

Now, this one actually gets complicated!

I'm mostly going to yap about why I think they'd be a perfect pick for my PSI-TOME plotline, but @d-buggers-org actually brought up a great point about how you could choose between who you want for plotlines BUT steal another version's character design! So I'll mention whose design I'll steal in the midst of which plotline/character arc would be better as well.

So get ready for a ride...

ALPHA:

TTA Alpha.

While I do have a soft spot for 2011 for reasons I may get into later, I am and have always been ENAMOURED with TTA Alpha in particular. I'm not a huge fan of "shy character becomes more confident" plotlines (truthfully I don't even know if I can explain why), so TTA Alpha in particular sticks out better to me!

I think he comes across as a somewhat brash, almost arrogant person at the beginning of the series, but one who slowly gets worn down by the heaviness of the plot over time, until he presumably "gets his spark back" by season 4 (Chris mentioning one of season 4's final episodes being a fight between Alpha and the literal God Of The Internet to prove that Alpha is proof that the virtual world is protected by good hands). He comes across as cocky at certain moments, but in a fun way! He's also very captivating while angry, and even though Chris himself doesn't like the 3 hour infiltration mission... I rather enjoyed seeing Alpha in particular have to directly lead his friends into danger, him and Voltarius having a back and forth conflict of who has the upper hand over who.

I think overall, TTA Alpha feels like a real teenager to me. Maybe I feel like the shyer Alphas of 2011 and RPG come across as more trope-y to me than TTA? I may have even posted about how TTA Alpha reminds me of Sonic specifically in Sonic Frontiers, my favorite video game of all time... but either way, that's how I feel! TTA Alpha would be my pick for my PSI Alpha.

Also, I wouldn't be too mad at keeping TTA Alpha's designs as-is lol. Maybe just remove the lizard tail and also steal 2011 Alpha's season 1 outfit for him BUT keeping TTA Alpha's season 2 + 3 + 4 outfits :D

ALSO ALEJANDRO SAAB IN THE 20TH ANNIVERSARY EDITION OF TTA EPISODE 60 IS MY PERFECT VICTORY; I NEED ALEJANDRO SAAB IN MY PSI-TOME <3

FLAMEGIRL:

RPG Flamegirl. (SPOILERS FOR THE RPG INCOMING, FYI)

Now, I think I speak for a fair chunk of us will admit RPG Flamegirl is the best Flamegirl has been written. Heck, probably the first time Flamegirl didn't feel like "THE GIRL" of the group!

Now, I initially didn't like RPG Flamegirl in the demo; but with the context of her full character in the RPG? She singlehandedly fits SO PERFECTLY with the higher stakes I enjoy from each series... but I feel kind of bad she's stuck in the one TOME variant that doesn't have those sci-fi high stakes I fell in love with. She's one of those rare characters I see in media that I swear I'm gonna hate the entire time, only for their character arc to showcase the OPPOSITE. (FYI, those awards are also gifted to Ling Yao from FMA and Weiss Schnee from RWBY <3)

I love that she's still learning to be a leader of her guild. I love that she has blatant trust issues that make her friendships fall apart, and she learns to grow from it to make sure she's not in a constant cycle of platonic break-ups. I love her raw determination, and I love how she very much ISN'T perfect and struggles with that. (And also, she's Filipino and voiced by a Filipina actress! Filipino pride :D)

If I'm particularly stealing the elements of TTA, I think you can easily interweave RPG Flamegirl into that sort of plotline. Maybe her sister was impacted by the virus at some point? I think RPG Flamegirl in particular ABSOLUTELY has the will and strength to take down the hacker organizations; She obviously does the same even if the hackers aren't directly harming people physically through the game.

As for design?

...

To be honest, 2011 Flamegirl with RPG Flamey's personality would be god tier. I love the demon aesthetic she has, and it's a little less busy on the eyes than RPG Flamey's outfit.

NYLOCKE:

...

...I could go both ways! (Both 2011 and RPG Nylocke.)

Now, I would like to elaborate that I'm not the biggest Nylocke fan, so I'm very much not the person to ask when it comes to which Nylocke is better, or go onto rambles on each version of Nylockes' character arcs.

But I don't hate him! I've been in the fandom for 10 years at this point, and growing into adulthood I really appreciate who Nylocke is as a character. He is really the heart that holds the group together, and really makes everything feel okay when he's at his best. I'm not sure if you could argue he has this big massive character arc, but my point is that you don't NEED him to change so massively because he's everyone's rock in the face of adversary.

Truthfully, not being a Nylocke stan, I personally don't see much difference between 2011 and RPG Nylocke outside of the circumstances they're in; that's exactly why I could go with both of them in my PSI-TOME. I think, like I said, being a steady rock in the face of adversary would be EXACTLY what my PSI-TOME would need, being reminiscent of TTA's darker elements.

As for design however, RPG Nylocke 100%! I think his silhouette cements the "big support" character he needs to be, his palette is more pleasing to the eye, and his cape's back!

KIRB/ZETTO:

...I'd like to hope y'all remember what my blog is about because it is ABSOLUTELY going to be...

2011 Kirbopher/Zetto.

What else can I say? I love him. He's an integral part of my childhood, my adulthood, my writing, my personality, my interests??

I've mentioned before that TTA Zetto is sort of the "common ancestor" for what would evolve into two separate paths; 2011 Zetto, and RPG Zetto. I think where TTA Zetto falters is Chris attempting to have both cakes; the Vegeta redemption arc, and the ever-intimidating adversary. RPG Zetto is a perfected version of the latter; I'm scared of him, to be honest. He's an asshole with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I would say I'd punch RPG Zetto if I saw him in the streets, but he'd probably doxx me on his Reddit account.

2011 Zetto is a perfected version of Vegeta. PERIOD.

His dual identity made TOME (2011) SO SO captivating. He alone raises the stakes, directly links the main group into the main conflict (but even spicier, AGAINST HIS WILL!). I'm in love with all of his issues and he's personally the most relatable person in the entire cast.

EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM IS SO CAPTIVATING! My favorite episode of TOME (2011) is Episode 10, because it's the first time we see Zetto's mask crack and he starts showing emotional vulnerability!

His dual identity with Kirbopher also helps "declutter" the main cast a bit more, and gives Kirbopher himself a lot more meat to his character! TTA Kirbopher15 is fine, but kind of works like the Joey Wheeler to Alpha's Yugi; but more people remember Kaiba and Yugi than Joey and Yugi. RPG Kirbopher works well without the higher stakes of TTA as just Alpha's friend.

However, with my PSI-TOME having TTA plotlines specifically BECAUSE I love drama and darker plots...

It'd be a crime to say 2011 Kirb/Zetto WOULDN'T be my pick for my own PSI-TOME!

2011 Kirb/Zetto is just SO STELLAR of a character that he just HAS to be there for my PSI-TOME.

(Heck, he was my awakening for loving the SHIT out of characters with dual identity issues.... lots of my dual-identity faves come from obscure webcomics BUT I literally just finished reading Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde because it's THE "dual identity conflict" novella of all time so uh... yeah 2011 Zetto flows through my veins at this point)

As for design...

No, yeah. I'm keeping 2011 Zetto as-is; obviously TTA Zetto just has a sleeveless version of Vegeta's armor, and RPG Zetto captures the "big douchebag" energy so well that I don't think I'd want him NEAR 2011 Zetto. I'd jokingly say perhaps I'd steal RPG Zetto's hair, though... I've always struggled with drawing 2011 Zetto's hair 😭😭

RPG Zetto's scarf and tattoo is kinda cute tho. Something to consider, maybe.

Kirbopher himself is funnily enough a different story. Personally, 2011 season 2 Kirb is my favorite of all the Kirbs! But I also like RPG Kirb's design over 2011 season 1 Kirbopher too... Also something to consider!

NOW...

GAMECRAZED:

Truthfully? All of them, in one big mega-Gamecrazed.

Much like Nylocke I don't think I have MEGA huge opinions on GC as a character, but in terms of plotline? All of them could work in my PSI-TOME; I think there's elements behind each one of them that could work/could be fun exploring as one giant mega-GC!

I'll just get this out of the way that I could also go for either 3 of their designs; I'm not too strong on one over the other, since I think it's fair to say their silhouettes are generally the same (well I used a pic of TTA's Redemption but still)

That being said, onto plotline:

1.) I love TTA Gamecrazed starting off as just a normal teen coping with his parents' divorce with his little brother, only to be sort of "awoken" by virus power and singlehandedly being able to talk down Motherboard from her own corruption.

2.) I love 2011 Gamecrazed secretly being an AI built to stop hackers by the game's main AI, only to learn about what love is through befriending the main cast.

3.) Gamesoft is just a cutie pie... I love that the RPG was willing to tackle her being trans, and I love that the concept of GC with a little brother was brought back! Truthfully out of all "shy" characters, I definitely prefer her as a more introverted/softspoken person over 2011/RPG Alpha's shyness.

So here's what I've been thinking:

Maybe PSI-TOME GC starts off as a normal teen, perhaps also coping with their parents' divorce but overall having a generally normal human life with a little brother outside of the game

At some point PSI-TOME GC gets involved with the development of a hot new video game, but virus stuff happens and they're now somehow interwoven into the game, maybe their mind is trapped or they are now "transformed" by something within the game that makes them technically no longer human

Motherboard uses GC, whether they be a shell left behind by some fatal accident within the game/Motherboard fusing with GC's mind after a traumatic accident, as a shadow, and learns about love through her experiences as GC + their little brother

Somehow this is a trans allegory

Like, it is 4am. But also imagine...

Food for thought once again. I'm just daydreaming, at the end of the day! But I truthfully believe there is something to be done by using elements from ALL versions of GC to make one big mega-GC to be within my own PSI-TOME.

That being said, I do prefer Motherboard by design instead of SOFDTI (or the RPG's 'Prisoner', especially because Prisoner in particular leads nowhere without the context of an RPG DLC or sequel)

I think "2011 Motherboard" concept art is just gorgeous; especially that top right doodle showing exactly how GC is her shadow. I do prefer humanoid designs hence my neutrality towards SOFDTI's squishy fairy design, but also I am also very much a women enjoyer ♥🧡💛💚💙💜

RURI/KIZUNA/TIGERLILY:

...

Kizuna over Ruri, but I could go both ways perhaps...

No shade to Tigerlily stans! But hear me out...

I think overall for my PSI-TOME, Kizuna is the better choice. Obviously she's made MUCH more important to the plot and conflict in 2011 than Ruri is in TTA; and she's such a girlboss as well. I think her Riza Hawkeye dynamic with Zetto is beautifully done, especially with the A2Z movies giving her a much more hopeful ending and wrapping up their relationship in a neat little bow. She's such a professional in her hacking, and she is a formidable antagonist within TOME (2011); she also has my favorite voice of the franchise! Imogen Fox if you're out there... your performance as Kizuna has been a gay awakening to a LOT of people.

But, after seeing @artlasllm's "Ruri is a Twitch Streamer AU"... I think Ruri also has something to her character to explore as well. I think she's an interesting addition to TTA that would've been quite compelling if explored more; is she the "things IRL I should be taking care of" that TTA Zetto talks about in episode 60? If they've been dating long before Zetto's redemption arc, why hasn't Ruri seen Zetto in a while when they meet back up in-GAME in season 3? Zetto himself rarely talks about her in comparison to Ruri talking about him, she's such a ride-or-die gf that I'm wondering how far Zetto has really pushed that mentality within her. Maybe perhaps she is directly abandoned by Zetto; Zetto fading into obscurity as a prodigous teenage game developer, and Ruri becoming popular only for being a let's player.

I think both are very valid catgirls to explore more within my PSI-TOME; I think I prefer Kizuna for direct plot reasons, but I think I wouldn't be mad at exploring what could be done with Ruri as a character.

That being said, on a funnier note: I've been told you can probably have both of them, since they're so different from one another LMAOO. Some highlights from a brief conversation with @d-buggers-org about including both or maybe ALL of the catgirls include:

Ruri/Zetto/Kizuna polycule at Netking Software's development team (Zetto and Ruri as both beta testers, Kizuna still as head bug checker)

Throwing Tigerlily in the mix with Ruri, Kizuna, and Tigerlily within the plot as a former clique of high school friends, perhaps maybe quite Heathers-esque XD (FYI Kizuna would be Chandler, Tigerlily would be Duke, Ruri would be McNamara)

Kizuna could and would doxx Ruri, from a professional hacker to a simple streamer 😭😭 on the reverse side, Tigerlily would look Kizuna dead in the eye and take selfies with whatever creep shows up at her house after getting doxxed by her

So yeah. Kizuna is a little complicated of a topic for my PSI-TOME, because you could argue that the differences between all of them mean that you could probably have multiple of them within anyone's PSI-TOME as different characters!

I think for simplicity's sake I would say that I do prefer Kizuna to Ruri in regards to who I would choose for my PSI-TOME, but if I were able to juggle both Kizuna AND Ruri in my PSI-TOME, especially with Kizuna as a professional hacker and Ruri as successful gaming streamer? I think I would love to explore both of them.

MISC:

So what else could I say about MY PSI-TOME?

Well, first off, a lightning round of Netking Opinions:

I would choose (MOSTLY) all of the 2011 Netkings over them all, with a few changes and exceptions; I think at the very least, Webmaster, Bitshrum, and Kindarspirit are the best in 2011 continuity, with Rubirules in 2011 being my favorite Rubyrulz/Rubirules/Rulerruby design

I'm not sure whether Rubirules or EXE would work as the true Hacker Boss in my own PSI-TOME, because I was fine with either of them when comparing TTA and TOME (2011)! So simply, I could go both ways!

However, I love Queen Rulerruby... regardless of if I'd pick Rubirules to be my PSI-TOME hacker boss, I absolutely want him genderbended to be the lovely Linda Young-voiced gemstone queen that Queen Rulerruby in the RPG is. God, that'd give off such wonderful Yzma vibes 8) <3

Regardless of EXE/Execk being my PSI-TOME hacker boss, I think I'd at least choose TTA/RPG designs over 2011. I think he looks a little plain and normal in 2011, so I'd def try to pick TTA or RPG's EXE/Execks for a liiiittle more oomph :D

NOW, MORE RANDOM PLOT LINES!

Seeing RPG Flamegirl having to deal with the fallout of 2011 Kirb/Zetto's reveal... I think she would NOT hold back in regards to holding him accountable for his actions. Honestly with the context of them being in the TTA plotline, maybe there's more time to explore the fallout of Zetto's dual identity within my PSI-TOME's Purple Flame Arc

Yoinking the 2011 Design for the D-Bug Dragon, but TTA Kajet for the yellow streaks in his design

Not particularly sure if D-Bug Dragon is a virus like in TTA, or an antivirus like in TOME; the general concept of the flame going haywire and making someone comatose would be the same, however. I do definitely think that in my PSI-TOME, perhaps it was built by the hackers, or at the very least Kizuna unfortunately roped into working on it with Darkeyes...

Obviously 2011 Zetto doesn't have the same genuine bloodlust that motivated TTA Zetto to start the hacker organization; I truthfully believe he does the things he does out of paranoia of him but more importantly other people getting hurt by the virus, which I think would motivate Zetto into starting the hacker organization with Kizuna

Oooh, when Archy/Ericho get trapped in the game... I think it'd be spicy to keep 2011 Rockoon as part of my PSI-TOME, a former hacker now desperate to avenge his innocent friend, alongside the horror of the main cast finding out that he's trapped as an AI within the game...

Elaborating more on the "Ruri/Zetto/Kizuna polycule" pitch... I imagine that Ruri and Kizuna act as shoulder angels on Zetto's shoulders; Ruri representing a normal carefree life, but Zetto abandoning it to run the hacker organization with Kizuna... where Kizuna herself has issues surrounding the morality of the hacker organization that she has to deal with (AND I WANT THEM TO END HAPPILY <3)

There is the potential question of asking if Kirbopher still "dies" within my PSI-TOME, since Kirbopher's "death" is a huge symbolic metaphor for Kirb/Zetto as a character... 🤔

This entire PSI-TOME concept is under the assumption that season 4 would be a thing.......... because my PSI-TOME absolutely has Xirra and Darkeyes 🥺🙏

Heck even outside of my PSI-TOME concept, Kizuna and Darkeyes feel like they have parallels in regards to their shared hatred towards technology, their involvement in building the D-Bug Dragon... perhaps in my PSI-TOME, Darkeyes would be a dark reflection of what Kizuna almost becomes...

Would it be easier to say that this entire post is probably just fanfic fuel and I've accidentally written a fanfic the entire time I've written this section of my post, and I only now realize that at the end of this entire essay at 4 in the morning? Maybe. But I don't write fanfic so ig these are the best crumbs I'm gonna get 😭😭

Legit, if you've read this far, thank you so very much for indulging me in my little daydream! This entire post is open to more conversations about what YOUR personal PSI-TOME would be, and I'm hoping that my little yap-athon here is inspiration for you all to play around with! I would love to hear what your personal PSI-TOMEs would be!

#blue.txt #terrain of magical expertise #TOME #TTA #tv tome adventures #TOME RPG

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inaconstantstateofchange · 9 months ago

Note

Hitting you with a random oc ask for Silke: Since he can't do his craft, what he does now to pass the time?

What is his family situation like? Are the parents alive? Does he have any siblings?

Also, since it's Valentine's day, is he interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with anyone or is that not for him?

poppy i can't believe you put me on blast by sticking the date in the ask T_T

ANYWAY—

Pastimes

Silke is an incredibly driven individual, so he doesn't consider things like down-time unless pressed by those around him (which would take a fair bit of time, for them to realize that this is maybe Not Ideal for him, given that they're all a bit caught up in their own issues as it is). To pass the time, he primarily pores through every resource available to him – whether tome, story, or artwork – to try to put together a plan to free himself from his binds, whether by accomplishing its terms and then killing his "Patron" (preferable), or simply killing his "Patron".

If none of those resources are available, he will find a good position to "rest", settling himself in a seemingly relaxed position, then begin to mentally draft out plans and schematics for future works, his fingers twitching in concert with the concepts. Curse or no, he sees no reason to let his skills atrophy.

Family

... No. Silke sprang fully formed from the errant offshoots of a wizard's spell attempting to harness the power of a Wish at a lower level. When this – clearly foolish and doomed – venture failed to return any visible results, the wizard gave up and returned to their fellows, a veritable laughingstock. However, the power they had accrued lingered, ultimately finding its catalyst in the fervent passion of the Artisan's Quarter. Silke was born, then, at the age when youths are ready to begin an apprenticeship. He has no apparent benefits from his unorthodox creation, and in fact is not even aware of it. Parentless children are common in most every city, and there was nothing of note about this one in particular. Silke never stopped to question the lack of the memories of growing up that his peers mentioned offhandedly — why would he, when the whispers of the metal before him were of far more interest?

Romance?

Silke is on the aromantic spectrum, so at this time I am leaning toward no, not at all. He's down for a tumble if given a good enough offer, but doesn't typically seek it out over other pursuits. Ultimately, his craft is his great – albeit currently lost – love. I think there are other relationships of depth and devotion he might end up developing with others in the party over the course of their journey together, but that remains to be seen.

#asked and answered #my ocs #oc: silke

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star--nymph · 8 months ago

Note

Eurydice Essentials: 05 - What do they specialize in within their class? 06 - Do they have a preferred weapon they always use? 07 - How do they dress in their downtime, while fighting, in formal settings, etc.? Codex: 10 - Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

11 - Do they have any interest in folk tales or folk songs? Have fun! <3

Aaaaaa, thank you, Jaz!! TIME TO GUSH ABOUT MY ELF.

ESSENTIALS

05 - What do they specialize in within their class?

Rift Mage! I did play around with the other two in game, but character-wise they didn't work for Eurydice. She has a personal thing with against necromancy (particularly the idea of raising a corpse from its resting place to do one's bidding) and while Knight Enchanter's cool, it ultimately doesn't fit her fighting style (favors ranged over close combat). Aside from all that, Eurydice has been studying the mark and the rifts since she woke up to it cut into her hand. Logically, it only makes sense that she would further that study with the help of 'Your Trainer' and Solas. Even if she didn't have the mark, Eurydice curiosity over the rifts alone would have lead her to being a Rift Mage. They are just random rips time and space that is pouring the Fade into their planet--if she can't at least play around with it, she can use it to her advantage. And being able to rain down meteors is pretty hot, neither of us can not lie.

06 - Do they have a preferred weapon they always use?

Oh, you know, that's a good question because she tends to switch between weapons? At least, in my head, Eurydice is primarily a staff user but she has a tendency to dig her staff into the ground and use it as a beacon or point of focus while she uses her hands (think like a lightening rod). Eurydice has a wild fighting style; she uses her staff more of an extension of her magic but for the most part, she'll attack from a distance, using heavy-handed spells like the Static Cage or Veilstrike to her advantage. If she's risking someone getting close, she turns her lightening magic into a whip that she uses to drag people towards her. She has a tendency to skitter out of the way if people do get close and people have noted that she mirrors a stag or halla when she does so. I did have an idea a while back of her being a spellbook user and that she outfitted her personal tome to have spikes on the spine so when people get too close, she can slam it down on them. Whether she actually does that in battle, I don't know, but is an hilarious image. That all said, she also keeps a knife one of her brothers made her before she left for the Conclave. So that might be her actual preferred weapon--it certainly is the one she has used to gut people who corner her in battle (and she has threaten several people with it on occasion);

07 - How do they dress in their downtime, while fighting, in formal settings, etc.?

Okay, so I fully admit, if Eurydice had her way, she'd be wearing nothing but rags she found on the side of the road. Sadly for her, I love fashion and pretty clothing more than most things in life, so she has to deal with me having a detailed wardrobes for her. Eurydice has two different forms of downtime clothing: those she works in and those she wears around Skyhold. When the Inquisition first settled in Skyhold, Eurydice's wardrobe was whatever she had on hand and had pockets, no matter how bad they looked. I made a joke that Eurydice probably walked out of her quarters one day wrapped in a curtain that she tied with sash, and from that point on Leliana, Josephine, and Vivienne took over her wardrobe--and while that's probably an exaggeration, it's not completely off. Eurydice wears things that work and don't get in the way. She also has a tendency to like light fabrics, so she'd probably be content with something she found in an old draw or in the servant's quarters. I think when she was with the clan, she and her sister Melia often wore the same limited wardrobe because fabric was hard to some by and neither of them were skill weavers. They wore what they wore and fixed them when they were damaged until they could no longer be worn; then recycled them for some other use. Skyhold was the first time that she had the money or freedom to wear...new things. I want to take a brief moment to mention that Eurydice has texture sensory issues to certain fabrics. Like I said, she wears light fabrics and one of the reasons is because they overstimulate her. For example, she can't wear velvet; she has stated that she feels as if its ripping off her skin and will scream if she's forced to touch it. Taffeta has a similar reaction. Satin is touch and go. Wools, linens like Muslim, cambric, canvas, and fustian are usually what she prefers--the lighter and more breathable the material, the safer she feels. She doesn't mind leathers either, though she prefers them not directly on the skin. For a default look, Eurydice wears something like this:

Which is a modification of this PJ mod with an added skirt, sash, and different sleeves. This is definitely the one she's most comfortable wearing, as you can tell by her skirt's hem being tattered (and it's absolutely filthy). The skirt has extra pockets and the sash acts as one big pocket which she carries things like seeds or books in. It certainly the one she wears when she's working in the stables or in her workshop. Eurydice has a another part of wardrobe specifically for lounge wear or at least for less formal meetings with nobles--these outfits also use lighter fabrics but are noted for being more expensive, having high-quality metals, jewels, and embroidery sewn into them. These formal looks usually look like the outfits I've drawn here: 1, 2, 3, 4. Usually her hair is either down, or put up in braids and buns with ribbons. She likes jewelry, especially earrings, so when she's feeling particularly pretty, she might wear silver and gold earrings. As for formal events like Judgements, galas, noble meetings, or the like, Eurydice's wardrobe and hair are given the full royal treatment. Crowns, layers dresses with flowing sleeves and caps, the very best jewelry the Inquisition can't get, and beautiful pearl laced hairstyles. So examples like: 1, 2, 3. It's pretty obvious that she's never quite happy to be in these looks, especially because people fuss around her. By the end of the night, she's thrown parts of the outfits off somewhere over her shoulder. And as you can imagine, her Winter Palace look is probably even more grand (and upsetting for her). I don't have many pictures because I've been drawing and redrawing and scrapping her Winter Palace look for years but the main description I can give is that it invokes a moon goddess image, with her having a train and cape that looks like glittering stars, and a heavy head dress with moons on it. Finally, Eurydice armor is also something I've been playing with for years and while I don't have an exact picture, I will say it's meant to be a cross between Dancer of the Boreal Valley from Dark Souls, the Nightingale Robes from Skyrim, and the Dalish armor concept from DA2. She definitely has a full faced, featureless mask on. Most people presume that she's an old woman in her armor because of her mask, her grey hair, her slump when she walks, and her deep voice.

CODEX

10 - Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

Eurydice doesn't hate any animal. I used to think she hated spiders but now I'm like no, she loves them. Crawling little friends. They're doing their jobs, why should she bother them? If they make cobwebs in her hair, that's THEIR business. But hallas are the ones she holds closest to her heart. Eurydice doesn't just love halla, she feels protected and respected when they're around her—a group of them relaxing in the middle of a field feels like home to her. Halla are intertwined with her more significant relationships. She's been enamored since she was a baby and her grandmother (her Hahmama) would carry her around and tell her about them through the day; she even made a halla plush for Eurydice to sleep with. Actually, Eurydice was selective mute for a good portion of her childhood and the only times she would talk was if she was either her Hahmama or her sister Melia—or if she was with halla. Most people didn't even know baby Eurydice could speak until they'd pass by her sitting with a group and blabber to them—BUT if they tried to talk to her themselves, she'd become quiet again. And that was thing—from a young age, halla didn't require anything OF Eurydice. They just liked that she was there, that she plop down with the tiny useless things she found, talk their ears off, and cuddle by their sides. Halla don't judge, they don't say Eurydice talks in odd ways—too fast, too slow, not happy enough, not using the right words. It's hard to be in the world as it is but to be in a place with creatures who let you simply exist and are happy with is unique to Eurydice. It's sad really because as talented she is with magic, her coming into it destroyed her dreams of being a halla mistress. All she wanted as a child was to stay with her halla and her sister. She wanted to become a halla mistress with Melia, raise and care for the beings that welcomed her into their family when no one else did. It's one of the reasons Eurydice hid her magic she was twelve—because she knew once it was revealed, everything she wanted would be taken away for the good of the clan. And it was. Eurydice had to be The First, she had to learned the ways of magic and lore and leadership over her people, even when she wasn't her people's first (or even last) choice for successor. So no more halla—no more running away with Melia to pretend to be halla mistress' in the forest. The best she could do was watch them from afar, ride them when she was able, and have Ghilan'nain's vallaslin. Anyway, all animals are good animals, even the ones that try to eat her. If they kill her, that's her fault, she was slipping,

11 - Do they have any interest in folk tales or folk songs?

She does. As I mentioned above, Eurydice's Hahmama started her love for halla and the reason for that was because her Hahmama was actually the clan's storyteller. Her Hahmama was like a library of stories and songs, every day she'd beguile the clan's children with myths and legends, and every night she'd sing to the adults about old heroes and love affairs with the gods. But the special stories about hallas and Ghilan'nain were reserved for her grandchildren and little Eurydice was enthralled with them through her. So as she grew, she'd collected them in her mind like her Hahmama did before her. Though she's no storyteller, she knows her people's folk tales and songs well, and she keeps in her heart for those she loves. And when her children come, she'll sit them down and tell them all they need to know.

#Eurydice Lavellan #writing #dai #female lavellan #lavellan

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computercreature · 2 years ago

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ehmmmmm. papyrus undertale for character ask game?

you didn’t specify a question. so i’m answering all 30 of them >:D nyeheheheh!!

first impression: super silly skeleton! love him!

when i started to like him: it’s hard to remember but probably from the very beginning. specifically? umm probably the lamp scene haha he’s so <3

song that reminds me of him: this is such a copout answer i know but i always think of papyrus makes a mixtape. such a formative song to my childhood

how many people i ship him with: 0! i hc him as aro!

my fav ship: again probably none… i’m not a huge fan but i feel like the most ok in my book is papyton

least fav ship: literally anything else all of his friends are either children or his brother or a lesbian

a quote i remember: if you see a shop, you should stop… drop, and roll… into some great deals!! because we’re having a fire sale!! at my imaginary store, which sells flames.

fav outfit: AHHH i love the battle body for the comfort fit swag but. my heart belongs to the cool dude fit <3

least fav outfit: NEITHER they both fit him so well!!!

describe him in one sentence: he’s funny and silly BUT i swear he’s so much more mysterious than people realize!

first thing i think of when i think of him: the papyrus knight theory, and how excited i am for him to be in deltarune >:3

sexuality hc: mm i think gay aro

fav friendship: FLOWEY!!!!! they are besties ok i’m so glad more people are realizing this

best storyline: ahhh hmm. again i think his friendship with flowey! they’re characters that are perfect for each other and their dynamic has a lot of crazy implications. without the post-canon content and some of the harder to find dialog it’s easy to assume flowey’s messing with him but they really are friends!

worst storyline: i’ll be honest the date 💔 i do like it from the perspective of an aro guy forcing attraction but i still prefer the hangout way more for. obvious reasons

childhood hc: i think he’ll be a child/teen deltarune! and i think he was a lonely (bonely) kid, which is why he wants to be popular so much

what i think his first word was: sans :]

what i think he was like as a child: i already kinda answered this but also. i’m an otherworld sans truther and i really have no idea what ut papyrus’s deal is. if the skeletons just showed up one day i really don’t know what that means for papyrus

most random ship i’ve seen: well other than the obvious. i would say papyton is pretty random since they’ve never met? but he does canonically have a celebrity crush on mettaton so i guess i get it haha

weird hc: cat person (or at least says he is) because of the annoying dog lol

when he was at his happiest: obviously post pacifist when he can feel the sun on his skin and wind in his hair 🩵

when he was at his lowest: tbh before meeting frisk he was really lonely. in deltarune it’s probably worse since he doesn’t have undyne or. any other friends

future hc: i love the hc that he designs escape rooms on the surface!!!!! i think he (and a lot of other monsters) start taking anthropology classes

a secret he’s never told anyone: he actually loves the annoying dog 🩵

when he acted most ooc: ohh i don’t know. hrm. i don’t think there is one off the top of my head!

when he was himself the most: before and after saving him in the asriel fight! copout answer for all the characters but i stand by it!

most fun character for him to meet: ohhh i have to think about this. maybe tome of mob psycho fame. monster obsessed with humans + human obsessed with the occult would be the perfect autism duo

most unnecessary thing he did: when he turned the puzzle into his face and couldn’t figure out the solution. when he summoned a billion bones for his attack and let you fly right over them. when he kept asking about your outfit and kept giving the wrong answers to undyne. when he jumped out undyne’s window. he’s so <3

how would he be as a parent: carlyraejepsans has a great post about this but i think he’d be the fun uncle who loves kids!! also all the monsters are communally raising frisk anyway <3

funniest scene: OH THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE TO CHOOSE. umm i love the lamp scene, when he first sees frisk, the mettaton tile maze, umm a lot of his phonecalls especially the fire one, and the winter newsletter. he’s just so!

#undertale #papyrus #dialogue #THANK YOU for asking the perfect infodump question this was so fun. ily

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lavelled · 5 months ago

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red velvet.

Prxnce H. Wellsy:

You’re not too busy on the throne of Angola? Claiming His & Hers flower crowns and then sleeping in separate bedrooms because one earns income from underage illegal endeavors?

No?

Your press includes front-line doctor and sous chef wife, Rachel, in a throwback promotion for her tv show in a glass slipper moment of legs either open or crossed, I can’t tell the difference these days. I’m obliged to skip it. The content is proof you embody the old-fashioned Freudian theory of being a promiscuous hypocrite, which can be traced back to your infancy and early childhood. Inheriting the reins of a trafficking contract surely affirms this phenomenon. Ironically, hordes of men view you as a sex therapist.

You do all sorts of things within the military service. Like pushing publicity on your side about a young man who enlisted in the army after the September 11 attacks, which is a new low. Your fallback plan is to constantly make your mum the subject. As if the best thing to happen to your family gives you immunity for wool weaving a little girl. The heartland where Tillman was hurt is known for being early fans of your book, Royal Dirt.

Do you still have control of Piers Morgan’s Twitter account? You’d craft poetic fuddy-duddy entertainment in the style of a journaling racist every time I deactivated mine. By now, the world has witnessed your bride and groom cosplay curtsying at The Wedding. I remember it as the happy place where you faved the tweet “the price is right” from your Celica account. I thought it was a dubious respite for Drew Carey contemplation. Until I realized you were casting for the role of wife (suffragette) while gently reminding me—career-less, husband-less, baby-less, having-nothing civilian—that I was still purchased.

Mazel Tov.

Thereafter, Harrivederci was coined by the British press. It translates to get the fuck out of my Britain. It’s like an Actors Strike, but surprisingly less reserved.

Borrowing Piers’ social media to woo me back with ratcatching foreplay, you would wrestle out any identity by removing his profile photo, and then type lol Lolita geezer-prom passive-aggressive seductions like “fuck the queen.” You have the masked masculinity of a slug. I flip all degrading connotations. Anyone can Google your prize-winning December 2022 hack posts.

Right at home in the orchestrated press, you’ll find Thomas, Rachel’s dad, dawdling on about two estranged young heirs which is lies, all lies, as he knows those kids well considering they’re raised under palm trees whilst you live in the faded grandeur of a computed cell tower in the UK.

Hollywood unwelcoming?

Your old tweets show this obsession with words like tome, epitome, and random breaking-news. How about Tom Hanks? The man equally well known for winning consecutive Academy Awards for Best Actor and being the most nice-guy everyman to contract Covid. You’ve Got Mail features the e-winking baritone voice of an AOL greeter. Tom plays Joe Fox. F-O-X. His family bookstore chain, Fox & Sons, destroys the smaller indie bookstore of a romantic pen-pal simply for kicks. It’s a love affair driven by the capitalist elite set, co-starring Dave Chappelle. Tom delivers the memorable, if not misplaced, line: “I’m the captain now.” You were 15 when they made it.

Speaking of decapitation, why at Eton did you pose next to the beheaded statue of Perseus, the founder of a dynasty, with your innocent hand in your suit pocket? That’s a bad stitching job by the Greeks. I was unaware there were any weighted garden statues likened to reaper pedophilia.

Funnily enough, I don’t think convicted child sex trafficker, Ghislaine Maxwell, would stand next to that statue. Interesting surname. Of alllll the places a longtime British confidante of a known pedophile can hideout, she does so in New Hampshire.

Next writing, music videos with a cool aesthetic. Like icy water on a summer day. Or, as your family knows them: MTV Cribs. First, I have a question for my rock musician husbands, Chester Bennington, Chris Cornell, Kurt Cobain and INXS singer, Michael Hutchence—where are they?

#reading #books

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luc1d-dr34m5 · 11 months ago

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Oh man I wasn’t expecting a response so quickly! And thank you for putting it in the main tags lol.

But I really like the idea of dreadful harmony! Those two really are the toxic yaoi/yuri of all time (though I don’t find them to be all that toxic lol)

I def have more questions but I’m worried about flooding your inbox a little sorry. Like how did DH lose their humanity? (I know that HC lost it due to the UW fusing him with half of I-no but I’m curious what the UW could have done to DH)

Im also curious about Lethargy too. Does HC/DH consider them their kid? Or what do they think of lethargy and vice versa?

Or hell I’m curious what other people think of HC and DH’s unique dynamic. (Especially Asuka damn. )

Sorry if this is long!

I only call them toxic YaoiYuri depending on the current roles they're playing, these two are so versatile in vibe cuz one drawing they could be having the most toxic moment ever and the next drawing theyre like sleeping on a couch after watching movies together and both situations fit them a lot atleast to me

And dw dw pls flood my inbox with more questions im going to explode about them in a good way

DH lost their humanity bc of the information flow from the Backyard being far too concentrated, while HC got the luxury of basically becoming fused with a god's powers, DH did not and their own abilities stem from the fact theyre basically a walking Tome of Origin that haw a super genius mind that can constantly revise and create new spells all the time. In this way Both DH and HC are equal in power. Also why would The Universal Will throw and trap DH into concentrated Backyard info area is cuz it was a desperate decision and they assumed DH would die but... like... thats, thats the one who weaves the spells. Universal Will had a dumb moment but hey it threw the Original off. To esplain Further DH had managed to make a way that they can survive by taking in the information influx from the Backyard but it came at the cost of their humanity, they managed to keep their memories and biases tho.

And YEAH DH ans HC lovingly(and annoyingly to Lethargy) consider them their child.

HC to Lethary - is like that annoying kind of parent who likes to poke their nose into ur bussiness but they genuine love and care abt you, Hes probs taken to the role as the Overprotective Parent just to stir drama every once in a while, i like to think during the earlier parts of Lethargy's story when theyre their panicky and terrified of their own strength self Happy Chaos just teleports sweets to them, Regional sweets, they both got sweet tooths. Havent got a full concrete thing on how he thinks of Lethargy cuz he has too many thoughts in his head but the basis of it all is fondness and horror, the closest he could feel to it cuz Lethargy is stronger than both HC n DH combined but Lethargy prefers being human than to become anything else. But the fondness overpowers the horror tbh he cares for the kid

Lethargy to HC - Basically think of someone in their rebellious phase, Lethargy loathes the fact they and HC have similarities, Easy to rile up n all. They tend to start bickering with HC on random topics HC started rambling abt. They think hes annoying n all, but when they do get along oh boy, Oh Boy. Prepare ur popcorn besties this boutta be the best show of ur life.

DH to Lethargy - Bias exists here, though they cant feel emotion they do try to show Lethargy that they care for em. They take on the role of 'Damage control' parent, this family has 1 braincell and DH has it half the time, the other half is when HC and Lethargy cause joint chaos together. Theyre the type of parent to be chill and such but WILL put their foot down if needed. They're the one who mainly teaches Lethargy how to use their own abilities since Lethargy can grasp Circle theory. Same case with HC there is both fondness n horror in their own unique way but as always the fondness overpowers the horror. Theyre the favorite parent and they know it.

Lethargy to DH - Favorite parent. No he will not let HC fight DH for the spot of favorite parent. DH is the favorite parent and Lethargy will forever shove that fact into HC's face. Lethargy is thankful to DH for being so goddamn patient with them bc Lethargy can be so clumsy and dumb. Lethargy wonders where DH got all this patience from (DH got it from knowing and dealing with HC for years lmaoo)

Regardless thought the two like to be embarrassing parents, always like, bragging abt Lethargy's accomplishments and they of course inherited DH and HC's immeasurable IQ's they just have a morality to hold back themselves.

I dont know that much about the Conclave members individually yet so i cant say for them, Asuka on the other hand... he's semi used to it, he was clueless they used to date eachother tho lmaoo.

Like, as their student he had no idea The Original and The Architect were dating, he had suspicions but he didnt wanna ask them. To picture how ridiculously oblivious Asuka was during this time, The Original and The Architect could be smooching out in the open and he'd be like "Something fruity going on here... But probs isnt" /J/J those two were a bit more subtle but yeah Asuka truly is bad with relationships, even seeing em.

Adding sum tidbits here on The Architect/DH and Asuka's own dynamic. DH and Asuka were much closer actually, DH even when human was stoic and rarely showed visible emotion even verbally. Only diff betwene them is that DH isnt clueless on emotions, they acknowledge the importance of feelings even as who they are now. Its why betwen DH and HC, DH causes less casualties and suffering due to this. tbh DH would be scolding Asuka for not taking how he himself felt into account even in a scientific way. Emotions are a variable regardless, why ignore such a vital thing?

and i like to think that as a parallel to HC's "Asuka Asuka Asuka Asuka... You're a natural born lunatic" and the response of "Quiet down, Teacher."

DH's line is "Asuka Asuka Asuka Asuka. You're an unnaturally oblivious person." In a more scolding manner, response is "Louder please, Tutor?" in a sheepish tone

If u have more questions u can send em in i will be very happy to answer wjdnw sorry if im a lil late i had things to do

#lucid rambles #oc #guilty gear oc #happy chaos #happy chaos guilty gear #asuka r kreutz #Head in ahnds i will explode about them #Asuka is conflicted with DH in the way that like #They kept their biases and own values even as their humanity withered away.#Oh and Asuka n Lethargy absolutely HATE eachother #neither of them know why but they just aggravate one another #I have doodles of the HC and DH i made when i was bored ill post them later

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6okuto · 3 years ago

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It bothers me that in game we basically call Felix's collections in his room weird and dont have the option to indulge him in his passions & hobbies so maybe something about that?? I just want to let him info dump to me

note from nia: real. maybe if mc let him rant and cry about a character death to them from a story they know nothing about for 30 minutes the same way my irls let me we wouldn't need to think of doing this!! That's literally how you make unbreakable bonds. ((here's a similar req which probably,, has repeated notes . ouaghhh))

it's such a loss that we can't have a scene for this since mc appreciating him for who he is is like,, a fundamental point for their relationship . you aren't going to let me indulge the man who wants to finally be indulged? come on

a love language. listening to what he's saying, asking questions, remembering facts days or weeks later, shocking him with a joke or reference randomly during the day

sometimes he trails off and starts apologizing for rambling (especially at the beginning of your friendship/relationship)

remind him that you love all of his info dumps and learning about him and he just 😳🙁❤️ before picking up where he left off

letting him info dump for the first time . this man has not had somebody to info dump to in ?? so long?? the only person i see really engaging in it is rime so you see the problem here

probably about necromancy or taxidermy since the general reaction to them isn't...excited. asking how he got into it, his favourite parts, his favourite stories, how it ties into the things in his room, etc. etc.

tfw somebody mentions/asks about something that you have hours of knowledge on and you have to pretend you're normal and only casually interested.

"i'm sure you don't want to hear about th—" "yes i do actually."

if You aren't going to be enthusiastic I will.

with every comment and question he realizes that you're serious and not doing it out of pity or manners and you can see him get more enthusiastic

not to self-project (maybe.) but imagining felix getting excited about certain things and sort of stuttering over his words because it's,, overwhelming y'know?

especially if your interests don't really align and you go out of your way to indulge him and take part . it's those extra steps that get him all mushy and appreciative—it shows him that you care !!

once he's confident in the fact that you really do like listening to him, he regularly comes to talk to you about new things that he's found or random thoughts

it goes from like,, hesitating and asking if you'd mind hearing about his thoughts to him opening your door and going straight into a ramble while you're sitting there folding laundry or something

asking him to teach you about taxidermy and he starts bouncing off the walls because a lot of people find it unnerving or gross and he doesn't get to talk about the cool aspects of it

he was probably scared of scaring you off with it so you taking initiative saves him so much grief and anxiety . especially if your vibe/aesthetic is super different

picking out different things you think he might enjoy and he gets all flustered like Me? you were thinking about Me?

asking him about his Provocative Tomes TM and he feels like he's going to die . he most definitely has strong opinions once you're able to convince him to talk though

i'm talking anything that's unrealistic, bad pacing, word choice, any dynamics done badly . just because the man is horny doesn't mean he has Poor Taste.

if you want to read them he'll lend them to you after you swear you won't let anybody else (sage) see them and that you won't tease him to death after

you ask him a question about something and he gives you his signature smirk before saying "ah, good catch. you'll be glad to know . . ."

like he's so?? smart and knowledgeable about his passions he just never gets to show off >:(

he starts saying facts/info dumping to pick up conversations and fill silences which can definitely be some whiplash at first but then it's been 15 minutes and you're both going off

felix not looking at you while he's talking then turning and realizing he has your full attention and losing his train of thought and blushing . ouagh

#🛒nia.reqs #last legacy #last legacy headcanons #last legacy fluff #last legacy felix #fictif felix #felix escellun #felix iskandar escellun #felix escellun x reader

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upat4amwiththemoon · 3 years ago

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Lonely

Summary: One is the loneliest number.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female!reader

Warnings: angst

Word count: 848

a/n: Have a happy January :)

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @strangegardentaco

Y/N and Natasha haven’t been spending as much time together as Y/N would like to spend with her girlfriend. But it’s not their fault being an Avenger takes a lot of your time. Natasha also wants to spend time with other people, her friends and family, totally understandable.

However, today Y/N feels hopeful. She has a free day the first time in forever and Natasha should also be free of work today. So, she walks up to her door and knocks on it. Inside she can hear some giggling and shushing before the door opens. Natasha’s face falls the slightest when she sees who is behind the door, but Y/N pays no mind to it.

“Hi.” She smiles. “I was wondering if you wanted to do something today? I have a free day.”

Natasha glances inside the room. “I’m actually hanging out with Wanda right now, some other day?”

Y/N purses her lips into a tight lipped smile and nods. “Sure.” Natasha gives her a smile and closes the door. She just wants to spend tome with her friends. She hasn’t seen Wanda in a while. Y/N thinks to herself as she goes into the common room to find someone else to spend time with. “Hi Sam!” She waves. “Want to hang out?”

“I would love to.” Sam sighs, turning to Y/N with a somber look. “But I have mission reports to do.”

Y/N keeps the smile on her face. “That’s okay! Have fun with those.” She excuses herself from the common room to go to the kitchen. Surely someone in there has free time. “Steve! Just the person I was looking for. Do you have time to watch a movie? Your pick.”

“Sorry, Y/N. I’m getting ready to train.” Steve says as he fills his water bottle.

“I could train with you?”

“I already promised Bucky to train with him. Some other time.” He smiles and leaves the room.

“Yeah.” Y/N nods, her smile falling. “Sure thing.” She tries her luck with the lab, where Tony and Bruce are working on something, and Carol’s room, but none of them have time to spend with her nor want any help with their work. With a defeated look, Y/N goes back into her room and decides to watch a movie alone. She can spend time with them another day.

The next day everyone seems to be even busier than the last. Most of the Avengers are on a mission, leaving the tower mostly empty. That’s when Natasha comes knocking on Y/N’s door.

“Hi, hun.” She cheeks Y/N’s cheek when she opens the door and walks inside the room, plopping to her bed.

“Hi, Nat. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to spend some time with you. No one else is free right now.”

“Oh.” Y/N glances at the papers on her table. “I was actually in the middle of filling these mission reports.”

“What? You can’t make some time to hang out with your girlfriend?” Natasha smirks. Y/N knows her remarks are mostly teasing, at least she hopes so, but sometimes they make her feel bad.

Looking at the papers, Y/N bites the inside of her cheek. The papers have to be done by tomorrow, but she supposes they can be done later. “I can.” She states, sitting down next to Natasha. “I’ll do them later.”

“Great.” Natasha puts on Netflix. “A movie?”

“Sure.”

Natasha picks a random movie for them to watch. They sit next to each other, leaning their backs against the headboard.

Thirty minutes into the movie Natasha gets a text that makes her smile widely. She stands up and starts rushing towards the door. “Yelena is back from her mission! I’m gonna go hang out with her, okay? I’ll see you later.”

“Could I come with y-“ Not giving Y/N enough time to finish her question, Natasha runs out of the room, slamming the door closed in the process. Y/N bangs her head against the wall. “Never mind.” She mumbles, hiding her face behind her hands. She sniffles as tears start falling down her cheeks quietly.

It’s not Natasha’s fault. Y/N reminds herself quietly. Yelena just came back from a week long solo mission, of course Natasha wants to see her sister right away. It’s also normal for Natasha to want to it being just the two of them. It would most likely be awkward if Y/N was there with them, she’d be the third wheel. Just like she always is when she spends time with Natasha and someone else. Natasha is easy to be around with, she radiates that kind of energy.

Y/N wipes away her tears, feeling pathetic from crying because of such a small thing. She lays down to the bed and switches to another movie, maybe Natasha would like to finish the movie they started later. Although, they do have at least ten movies they have started but never finished. But maybe this one.

Surely Natasha would want to finish this movie.

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #the black widow #black widow #black widow x you #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu #angst

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sunder-soul · 4 years ago

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PROMPT 1: Hellooooooo! First off ur writing goes off, second off listen to this idea that i truly think u can bring to life... reader n tom r in a relationship and someone tried to slip tom to love potion but ofc he doesn't fall for it and his gf is like ??? and then they rub their relationship in her face LOL. anyways no worried just thought this would slap! Admire u n ur work!!

PROMPT 2: hey i love your the last of your rules series and everything else you’ve written. i’m not very creative so idk what exactly i’m looking for plot wise i just trust you since everything you’ve written is good but i was wondering if maybe you could write a tom x ravenclaw reader please. the ravenclaw reader tends to be more emotionally reserved and isn’t big on physical affection and maybe tom finds that interesting in a way? idk this idea might suck but felt like asking anyways...

Decided to combine these two because I could see them working really well together… :D

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Retribution

Summary: After somebody tries to slip Tom a love potion to break up him and Ravenclaw Reader’s relationship, they get a little bit theatrical in response...

Wordcount: 1.8k

Content warning: none.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Good morning,” says Tom evenly, lifting a wide-brimmed cup to his lips and taking an even sip as he looks at you.

“Is it?” you say dryly, sitting down opposite him at the Slytherin table and pulling out the new Magical Theory textbook. “Have you looked over this yet?”

“I have,” Tom replies with a very small smile. “Not to your liking?”

“Sophus writes like it’s still the seventeenth century,” you say with a shake of your head, “which isn’t surprising considering I don’t think he included a single reference from the last two hundred years… I mean honestly –” you wave at the title on the front of the book, “– ‘Corpus Magikus?’ Even the title makes it sound ancient.”

“Did you have any criticisms about the actual content per chance?” Tom asks as he lifts his tea again – though it doesn’t quite hide the amused smile on his lips. “Or did you not manage to get past the articulation?”

You give him a look. “The articulation is just as important as the content.”

“I completely disagree,” he replies easily, his cup clinking as he rests it back on its saucer, “regardless of how it is written, his points are extremely sophisticated.”

“I’m not talking about the quality of his points, I’m talking about how well he makes them accessible,” you say at once, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it lightly, “he can have the best criticisms of Magical Theory in the world and no one will care if they can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Tom arches a brow and leans forward on the table, resting on his forearms. “You’re placing the responsibility of understanding an argument on the person presenting it, and not the person receiving it,” he says fluidly, “personally when I find something difficult to understand, I take it as an indicator that I need to return to the topic after better preparing myself.”

“That works fine as an individualistic perspective,” you reply at once, leaning forward to match him, “but a book isn’t written for an individual, is it? It’s written for an audience. A book like this is measured by how wide an audience it can reach, meaning the responsibility is half on him to write accessibly, and half on the audience to go away and fill the holes in our own understanding. That’s when information is dispersed most effectively.”

“Your priority is the dispersion of information as a whole and not the expansion of your personal field of knowledge, and that is the crux of our differing opinion,” Tom says, sitting up straighter and tilting his head calmly.

“I am very aware,” you say dryly, “but you shouldn’t dismiss the importance of charisma when it comes to spreading information. After all, academics aren’t exactly known to be the most charismatic people most of the time, so you end up with intelligent, useful tomes that are utterly incomprehensible to most people –” you nod at the text again, “whilst compelling idiotic drivel is widely consumed.”

The Daily Prophet lands with a thump on your breakfast plate as the delivery owl swoops away with a mournful hoot, and you share a pointed, very wry look with Tom.

Tom breathes a little laugh and laces his fingers around his cup. “So you’re not looking forward to Magical Theory, then.”

“I am,” you amend, frowning, “I just hope the class follows more like Waffling’s work than this.”

“Of course you like Waffling,” Tom smirks, lifting his cup, “he effectively writes in verse –”

Tom suddenly freezes, his brow furrowing lightly. You raise a brow at his sudden reaction. “What?”

He looks down at his tea, still frowning.

“Tom?” you prompt, bemused.

“Someone has attempted to drug me,” he says in complete seriousness, looking up at you.

You stare back, bewildered. “Is… is this more Tom humour?” you ask after a moment, “you seriously need more practice at making jokes, Tom, you really are terrible at it –”

“I’m not joking,” Tom interrupts crisply.

Your scrutiny drops to the cup in his hand. “How can you tell?”

“My tea smells like you.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“My tea,” he repeats evenly, his dark eyes coming alight with a flicker of amusement as he leans closer, his cup still in one hand, “rather suddenly smells like you. I can only assume someone has managed to slip Amortentia into my cup sometime during this conversation.”

You blink at him. “Oh,” you say simply.

Tom’s lips curve into a more defined smirk at your expression.

“Well who’s trying to drug you then?” you ask quickly, looking away.

“An excellent question,” he says silkily, eyes still on you. “Their motive is hardly a mystery, so that should narrow it down.”

You roll your eyes and level him with a flat look. “Nothing could narrow it down less, Tom,” you drawl, “half the school is in love with you, and the other half is in denial about being in love with you.”

Tom arches a brow and looks very pleased with himself. “Should I drink it and we can find out?” he asks in amusement, lifting the cup.

You huff a laugh and take a bite of your toast. “Go on then, but don’t expect any sympathy from me when you’re pouring your heart out to some random stranger in front of the whole school a minute from now.”

His hand freezes with the rim of his cup an inch from his mouth, amusement faltering.

“That’s what I thought,” you smirk. “If you want to play it that way you’re going to have to be smarter than that.”

“Oh?” he asks, dark eyes narrowing. “And what would you suggest?”

“If someone drugged you during this conversation then they’re probably watching for your reaction,” you say casually around bites of your toast, “so just look out for someone who’s waiting for you to dramatically break up with me.”

“According to you, that would be the entire school,” Tom mutters, looking significantly more disgruntled than before.

A grin slowly builds on your face. “That was nearly a real joke, Tom,” you say ironically, “Merlin you’ve come so far…”

He shoots you a flat glare and you snicker. “Alright, sorry, I’ll stop – look, if I storm out of here looking upset and you act all conflicted and brooding for the rest of the day, whoever it was will probably try to come talk to you.”

“How theatrical,” Tom deadpans.

You shrug. “Do you want to know who drugged you or not?”

His eyes remain on yours for a moment, and then he lifts the tea to his lips. You watch him pretend to drink, your eyes lingering on the tea glistening on his lips as he lowers the cup.

“Don’t lick your lips,” you say quietly, not quite able to look away.

Tom’s other hand shifts slightly where it’s resting on the table between you, and the tea vanishes both from his lips and the cup. You give him another dry look. “Show off,” you accuse, smiling, “wandless and non-verbal, huh?”

“If you ask nicely, I’ll teach you how to do it,” he smirks.

You huff a laugh and slide Corpus Magikus back into your bag. “I should make my dramatic exit soon,” you say casually, finishing your toast and looking around the hall absently. “Perhaps we should have a fight first.”

“That would make it more convincing, yes,” he says delicately, still looking amused.

“What shall we fight about?"

Tom’s expression immediately cools and he leans in so close that you can see the patterns in his dark irises. “The content doesn’t matter,” he says smoothly, a glimmer in his eyes despite his utterly blank expression, “rather, the articulation.”

You hold his gaze for a second, fighting the urge to smile. You force yourself to stand suddenly, as if he’s said something of great offence. “I’ve never seen you so quickly converted to my opinion, Tom,” you say icily, leaning down to him over the table and hoping it looks like you’re angry.

“You made your argument very convincingly,” Tom says immediately, lifting his chin coolly.

“Actively demonstrating my point, I suppose,” you snap, standing straight. “I’m going to storm out now.”

“I’ll see you in class,” he says dismissively, pouring himself more tea.

You turn on your heel and leave, ignoring the curious eyes following you on your way out and not letting the smile break on your face until you’re well outside the Hall. Now all you have to do is wait.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Amelia Staghart,” Tom says in your ear before swiftly sitting down next to you in Potions that afternoon.

You raise a brow at him, watching as he arranges his Potions kit on the desk – Staghart is sitting a few desks behind you at that very moment and can most definitely see the both of you. “Are we no longer having a fight?”

“I grew tired of that pretence rather quickly,” Tom says curtly.

You smirk. “Did she talk to you?”

“Yes.” He looks decidedly irritated.

“A lot, huh.”

He shoots you a glare and you bite back another smile. “Are you going to report her then?” you ask, writing the date out on your parchment.

“No,” Tom says softly. You glance up curiously at his tone and find his dark eyes watching you write, before they flick up to yours. “I can think of a more pertinent retribution for her to endure,” he finishes quietly, not looking away.

“Retribution?” you echo, arching a brow with a slight smile. “And you accuse me of being theatrical.”

But Tom only leans closer and – to general astonishment – places a very gentle kiss on your cheek. His lips linger soft and warm on your skin for a moment as you’re frozen in place, staring at him as he slowly draws away an inch. His eyes roam your face as you blink in surprise, his lips curving into another humorous smile at your expression when there’s a sudden SMASH from behind you.

The entire class turns from where they’ve been staring wide-eyed at Tom’s display of affection to see Staghart’s inkwell knocked asunder on her desk, spreading black ink across the wood and dripping down to the floor, her eyes wide and her expression thunderstruck as she stares at you.

“Clean that up at once, Staghart!” Slughorn says disapprovingly as he strides into the room. “I certainly hope your clumsiness does not extend through today’s lesson – we’re brewing poisons today, class!”

Staghart goes red as the rest of the students titter and chatter, furiously glaring at the pool of ink dripping into her lap.

You glance at Tom and share a silent look of amusement before the two of you simultaneously turn back to your notes, still smirking.

#Tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #established relationship #ravenclaw reader #amortentia #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #harry potter #minific #retribution #prompt #Anon #gn reader

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

Text

Nar dralshy'a - Rogue, Chapter 24| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Gif by: @ansonmount

Summary: After your successful escape from Moff Gideon’s cruiser, you and Din decide to take some time off. Unfortunately, you begin to have some rather... interesting dreams.

Warnings: 18+ Smut!!! Like, intense smut. Threesome (mmf), blowjob, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, multiple penetration, anal (m receiving, f receiving), voyeurism, masturbation, multiple orgasms, literally just... Sex. Some swearing too, injury detail - this is pure filth.

A/N: I have nothing to say but enjoy. I feel this makes up for no chapter last week. Have fun ♥︎

(Dream scene/smut is from roughly just after the middle to the end. Skip if it isn’t your thing♥︎)

Word Count: 4.6k+

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @kenoobiwan @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @mamacitapascal @heyitsjaybird @amyk-37 @greatcircle79 @mikariell95 @justdrawings101

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @kaylee-krystal @queenofthefaceless

Mando’a Translation: Nar dralshy'a - Put your back into it

Din is alive. Din is alive. Din is alive. Din is alive. Din is alive.

Those words repeated like a frantic mantra in your head, the whole way back to Boba’s ship.

You encountered no one, even as Din stumbled and staggered along between you all.

You knew that it mortified him, having to be half carried. But there was no way he could move on his own. And he was hovering on the edge of unconsciousness as it was.

Din tipped his head back, looking at you through his cracked visor, “You came back for me…” His words were a little slurred and awestruck, like he was dreaming. The utter tone of disbelief broke your heart.

This man had been left so many times… Could he even comprehend that you’d brought a team to infiltrate an Imperial Cruiser, face down not only Moff Gideon, but also a Shadow King from legend, and still walk – stumble – out of here?

Probably not.

You looked down at him, wishing you could caress his face, his jaw – anything. “Of course I came back for you. I’d always come back for you.” You pressed your forehead to his, in that beloved keldabe kiss that meant so much to you both.

Din let out a soft huff of breath, maybe a smile beneath the visor…

And then collapsed.

~~~

The following four hours were some of the worst of your life. Ahsoka and yourself had used your powers to assess his injuries and… The poor man was battered.

How he had survived a fall like that in a body full of rock hard beskar, you would never, ever know.

Clearly the Maker was watching out for him.

Regardless, healing him came with its own set of difficulties.

Naturally, you couldn’t remove Din’s armour, so you and Ahsoka had to make do with healing through it… Which meant you had no idea if what you did actually worked, since he was still out cold.

You’d managed to pop his shoulder back in, one of you pushing with the Force and the other pulling – even if it had sent another crack through his collarbone that you swore you could feel in your own body.

Hour by hour, you worked carefully to heal your fallen warrior.

Even after those four hours, after you were emotionally, mentally, and physically spent, he still wasn’t fully healed. His ankle remained sprained beneath his boot, his broken bones still requiring at least a week’s rest and as for any lingering effects in his head and internal organs… Well, that was something you would have to monitor yourself over the coming days.

Din had started to stir during the treatment on his ribs, groaning in pain with his skin flushed and clammy beneath the armour – or so you gathered from the thin strip of skin showing at his wrist. Ahsoka had quickly pushed him back into unconsciousness, where he still remained now.

He was laying on a collection of cloaks and blankets, on the only bit of free floor space at the back of the ship – he was a rather tall, broad man. You were curled on the floor next to him, his gloved hand clasped between two of yours and you just watched his covered face.

More than anything, you wish you were able to see him.

See that face that you already cherished, held so dear in your heart without even needing to see it.

He could have died, and you would never have known the colour of his eyes.

You respected his Creed, never questioned it, but… You would be lying if you didn’t admit that lately, that urge to see him had become a living, breathing thing.

To see his lips, curling up into a smile… Maybe he had dimples.

The frown as the kid did something, or as he thought about some random question you’d asked out of the blue and he couldn’t comprehend how that even made sense to the current conversation. Like that time, you asked if knew they were droids, and if they wanted to be something else. Which had then prompted a two-hour long discussion with Din arguing that droids were programmed and you insisting they had some spectrum of natural emotion that wasn’t programmed in.

You wished you could see the light of a sunrise turning his eyes molten, or to see what they looked like as he gazed at you. The love that would shine through them.

Or to watch his expressions when the pair of you were together, to see those eyes darken with desire for you, or his face contort in pleasure as you worshipped him.

You sighed softly, resting your chin on your knees and you held his gloved hand between your own.

These thoughts continued to swirl around you mind as you massaged his palm and fingers, letting the sounds of the others become a lulling background murmur.

Did he think you wouldn’t love him? Was that it?

You couldn’t exactly assure him... He would think you were asking for him to take it off, that you weren’t happy.

And you were happy. More than happy, with whatever he could offer you. The man had shown you how to live, rather than just survive.

“Maybe you actually should ask him about that, darling. Ask him why he will willingly die for you… but still won’t show you his face.”

Your body locked up at that silken whisper in your head, the same voice that had followed you from the Cruiser, the same voice that had stalked you for years.

His voice.

You hadn’t told anyone that he was in your head again, nor did you tell anyone about the beast now slumbering in your chest, one ear pricked up to listen for that call. That same beast that had purred when you destroyed – there was no other word for it – those Stormtroopers in the hallway.

The act you had pulled off before stabbing Haran… You weren’t entirely sure how much of it was pretend.

“I knew it. You can’t fool me. Or rather, you don’t need to fool me, darling. All I want it for you to have everything you deserve, and more. I could make you a Queen.”

A Queen.

Ruling over people he decided were less worthy? No thank you.

You were happy here, with your friends. Your family. You didn’t need darkness or fear… Just this.

“If that’s what you choose to believe. But you know, deep down… You crave it. I know the beast slumbering in you, darkling. It won’t be long before it wakes up.”

Just before you could spiral too deep into the thoughts he was putting into your head, you felt Din’s fingers twitch in yours, just briefly.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you dropped your knees to sit up straighter, “Lori?” You were still around your friends, after all, so the nickname came out.

“You didn’t think I’d give up that easily, did you?” His rough baritone filled your senses, hoarse and slightly pained but unmistakeably Din.

Something broke in your chest, like it caved in and a sob caught in your throat, “Oh.” You blinked down at his shiny head, and then dropped your own to his chest, not caring that it was hard and cold. It was him. He was okay.

You’d fixed him up and he was okay and here and… safe.

A soft chuckle rumbled beneath you and his free hand cupped the back of your head, “Hey… I survived a fall and kidnapping… I’m sure I could suffer through your nursing.” His thumb stroked over your hair, cradling you to the beskar chest and you swore you could hear his heart beating beneath it.

“You’re lucky you still need to finish healing, otherwise I would be beating your ass for all of this.” Your words were mumbled through tears, breath fogging up the beskar and you slid your arm up under his shoulder, shivering a little.

Din laughed again – shallowly, his ribs were still sore – and pressed the chin of his helmet against your head gently, “Oh, I know. I’m waiting for it, believe me.” He squeezed your hand, just savouring the feel of you in his arms, allowing himself to relax. You were here with him, not on the Cruiser – and not a slave to Haran’s persuasion.

There was the pitter-patter of many feet, and then a tiny green body began to clamber up the beskar mountain, “Bah.”

Din lifted his head, watching as Grogu crawled along his belly and plopped down just near your head, reaching out with grabby hands. “Hey, kid…” His voice turned a little thicker as you let go of his hand, so he could pull the kid closer.

“He missed you… He cried every night and put up a hell of a fight when we left him with Boba.” It was true, Grogu had attempted to use his powers on you all, until you managed to soothe him – and put him in Boba’s helmet, purely so he couldn’t clamber out of the beskar bucket.

Plus, it was ridiculously adorable, watching him spin around in the helmet until his tears melted into high giggles.

Din was most likely raising his eyebrows underneath his helmet, stroking Grogu’s cheek with his thumb, “Is that true, you little womp rat?”

Grogu cooed, tilting his head into Din’s hand and blinking those big, glossy eyes – the picture of innocence.

A mewl came from behind you, and then Duru hopped nimbly onto Din’s belly – earning a soft oof from him because she’s not exactly light. She settled on his belly, curling her tail around her clawed feet and a rumbly purr came from her chest.

You smiled slowly, reaching out to stroke her ears, “Oh, and this one spent every night howling. I had no idea Loth cats could even make a noise like that but… Here we are. I’m sure the others will be eager to get rid of us and the rabble.”

“Damn, straight. I’m an old man, I need peace and quiet when I sleep.” Boba’s gravelly voice travelled from the cockpit, a sign that though they were all trying very hard to pretend not to be listening, he couldn’t help himself.

A warm chuckle slipped from your lips as you shook your head, settling as close to Din as you could, his hand on your head trailing down your spine and coming to rest at the small of your back, “See.”

Din didn’t answer with words, but with a soft sniffle – like he was crying.

Worry careened through you and you touched the edge of his visor, “Hey… Why are you crying? Are you in pain?” You reached out a hand, ready to soothe any discomfort that may have cropped up.

Grogu made a little questioning noise, crawling to Din’s chest and patting the edge of the helmet, his ears flapping, like he too was worried.

Din shook his head, clearing his throat but his voice was still choked, “It’s just… I’ve been on my own for… years. Been hurt, captured, attacked more times than I can count but…” He looked over you all, motioned to the cockpit, “I’ve never had this. A rescue team… A family who missed me. It’s still… so new.” His words seemed a little unsure, like he still wasn’t used to voicing such vulnerabilities aloud either.

His uncertainty melted you, and you slid your hand up as if cupping his cheek, meeting the horizontal band of his visor, where you always seemed to look directly into his eyes, “Me either… But this is our clan, remember? Our family. And no matter what, we will always come back for each other. Even if we take on bases of Imperial troops and fall out of the sky.” You gave him a cheeky smile, your eyes soft and adoring.

The eye roll was nearly audible, but he still chuckled, sliding his hand up to cup the back of your neck and pull you down for a keldabe kiss, “You are insufferable.”

Your eyes closed, hand moving down to rest over the fabric on his neck, “Ah, but you still love me for it.”

Din let out a playful, long suffering sigh, “I suppose I do, don’t I?” He was grinning beneath the helmet though, revelling in this feeling of his family clustered around him, his kids curled on his chest and his friends just a little way away.

No longer alone.

“Well, I love you too.”

~~~

A little while later, you were all clustered in the cockpit, saying your thank you’s and temporary goodbyes.

Boba was going to fly the pair of you to where they’d stashed the Razor Crest, and then escort you to the nearest jump point. From there, Din had informed you that you would be going to a Sanctuary planet.

The same one he had scoped out for himself and Grogu all that time ago, way before any of this.

You both deserved a break – the kids too.

You were looking forward to it, the chance to just… be free, even for a little while. To feel the sun on your skin, to be able to dip your feet in the cool water of a babbling brook and chase the kids through trees and fields of exotic flowers.

To not think about other things for a while.

Before too long, you were making your way into the Crest, and then into the sky.

Home.

Boba and the others escorted you to the jump point as promised, where you waved goodbye and then you were in hyperspace again, as if nothing had ever happened.

Of course, the events of the past week would have repercussions. You’d be a fool to think otherwise… But for now, you didn’t want to think about that. You just wanted to be with your family, and rest.

Even if it did mean going back to the cramped little bed that barely fit your body on, let alone yourself and Din.

But it was familiar, and it was home.

Maybe we could upgrade after the Sanctuary planet… I could convince him.

You fell asleep thinking of plans and ways to convince your Mandalorian to shell out some credits and upgrade this sorry excuse for a bed.

At some point in the night, a haze overtook your dreamless sleep, pulling you into a place that you weren’t even aware of…

~~~

“You beautiful thing… Look at your Mandalorian. Look at him, darling.” Haran’s scarred hands roamed your back, massaging the flesh, scraping his nails down either side of your spine to your ass cheeks. “Let him see the look on his face as I fuck you.”

A breathy moan escaped your lips, your back arching up like a cat’s and then further, as the blunt head of Haran’s cock nudged your soaking entrance and then slipped inside.

Stars above.

Haran was as long as Din was, but a little thicker. Enough to stretch your walls almost a little painfully, but Maker did it feel amazing.

Your head dropped down, your arms trembling slightly where they held you up and you let out a noise that was sinful. “Fuck…” Your back arched a little more, feeling him settle deep inside you, nudging far within you and filling you up deliciously, in a way somehow different to Din.

A soft snarl came from above you, and then one of Haran’s hands wrapped around your throat, yanking your head back up with the pressure, “I said, look at him.” He squeezed your neck, cutting of your air enough to send your eyes to the back of your head momentarily before they settled on Din.

He was seated on a couch at the end of the bed, shadows wreathed around his body which must have been bare underneath. His helmet and gloves remained on, and he was focused on you, on Haran.

The thought of Din being naked, his bare skin on show underneath those shadows… that made you even wetter, made your walls clench around Haran’s cock and earn a grunt from the Shadow King.

Over Din’s shoulder, a big, ornate framed glass rested on the dark walls, a mirror that reflected his bed.

Of course there was.

You were entranced by it, torn between watching Din and watching yourself, with Haran’s lean, toned body rising up behind you as he began to move, taking you deep and rough with his scarred hands gripping your hips with bruising strength.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your swollen lips parted in ecstasy as you rocked backward, meeting Haran with each movement, so that the room filled with the filthy sound of his balls hitting your slicked body, sending jolts of pressure through your clit.

His hand remained squeezing around your throat, and he bent his body down over yours to meet your gaze in the mirror, white teeth flashing and he bit at your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, “You like me fucking you, don’t you? You like seeing him watch me fuck you.”

A keening noise escaped your lips, your own teeth sinking into your lower lip as a trail of blood rang down your shoulder, “Yes – fuck, yes.” You jolted back against him, wanting to feel him tomorrow, wanted to not be able to walk. “Harder.”

Haran let out a dark, velvet chuckle against your shoulder, his tongue darting out to catch the bead of blood and he hummed in ecstasy at your taste, “As you wish, my Queen.” He rose back up straight behind you, and began a brutal, bruising pace.

The relentless thud of his cock against your g-spot made your brain disconnect form your body for a second, your vison blanking before it cleared again.

Din groaned long and deep, leaning forward for a better view, fascinated by the scene before him.

Watching as someone else, the Shadow-King no less, fucked his cyar'ika.

And it was driving him absolutely feral.

The very image of you, that pleasure on your face as Haran drove into you, was killing him. He always thought he would hate it, absolutely despise the very notion of another man touching you. But Haran was different, there was no denying. He was embroidered into the fabric of your lives, whether Din liked it or not.

And now, here he was, his dick positively weeping as he beheld the scene before him, his skin tight and itchy with desire.

The smooth, worn leather of his gloves was torturous over his aching cock, unable to resist curling his hand around his length, moving in time with you and Haran.

Din couldn’t look away… Especially as Haran pulled out, then slammed back into you instantly, hand tightening even tighter around your throat. He circled his hips, hitting all the spots Din knew himself and then your eyes squeezed shut, heady release crashing over you and your arms gave way as you moaned – no, screamed - Haran’s name.

He kept fucking you, pounding into you again and again, as you cried your pleasure into the bed covers, Haran’s seed soon dripping between your thighs as he came too.

And Din wasn’t sure who was most jealous of Haran… or you. To be the one making you scream, making your body contort like some kind of goddess, or to be the one on his hands and knees with that mouth-watering length breaking him apart.

Maker, he was going to explode just from the sheer thought of that.

Like you’d read his mind, you lifted your head, your eyes blown impossibly wide with lust and you reached out for him, eyes focused hungrily on his throbbing length.

Your tongue darted out, licking over your swollen bottom lip and then he was right there.

You wasted no time, those devilish lips lowering over his cock and then the hot, silken smoothness of your mouth encased him.

You both moaned again in unison, the sound vibrating through Din’s head and you eagerly lapped up the bead of precum leaking from his tip.

You didn’t think you would ever get bored of Din’s taste, the feeling of him heavy in your mouth as you bobbed your head, sinking down deep enough that your nose brushed his curls and he slipped down your throat. He was like velvet wrapped steel, and you would never get enough.

Din stuttered a curse, his gloved hand fisting in your hair and holding you there, “F-fuck, sweetheart…” His helmet tilted back, groans spilling from it as you swallowed.

Haran was rapidly hardening again inside you, watching you swallow down Din’s length and he was suddenly moving again, fucking you rough and deep, causing your body to rock around your Mandalorian’s cock. “That’s it, darling…. Good girl…” His hand dragged up your back to your head, entwining with Din’s and the pair of them bobbed your head up and down.

A muffled moan slipped from your throat, the three of you setting a pace as Din began to jerk his hips into your mouth, working in tandem with Haran’s pace.

The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, mixed with the scent of both boys, creating an intoxicating aroma that would cling to you all for days to come.

As you swirled your tongue along the underside of Din’s length, you heard the tell-tale schwoomp of a helmet being removed.

A trace of panic made your body lock up for a second, before Din’s hand stroked through your hair, “Easy, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Something cool brushed over your eyes, and you realised Haran had set a blindfold of shadow around your head and must be wearing one of his own.

You briefly wondered why, before you heard the faintly wet noise of a messy, swollen kiss above your head – the boys making out as they fucked and were fucked by you, all three of you racing to push each other off that cliff of pleasure first.

A haze overtook the dream, changing the scene and then there you were, reclined on a luxurious sofa, furs scattered beneath your body.

The pleasant burning hum in your bones signified that you had just received yet another mind-blowing release, clearly reclined here to recover because the couch was situated at the end of the bed.

Facing it.

And on top… Din, helmet still on and those dreamy shadows still surrounding his body like a shield. But perhaps they were courtesy of Haran, because the King of Shadows was kneeling in front, back pressed to Din’s chest… As Din rocked in and out of him from behind, gloved hands gripping his hips to hold him in place.

Holy Maker above.

Your humming body instantly tightened, snapping to attention as wetness flooded the tops of your thighs. Eyes still firmly on your boys, you reclined back further, spreading your legs and slipping a hand between them.

You traced slow, lazy circles around your clit, the silky slickness aiding in smooth movements to slowly begin another fire.

Haran tilted his chin down from resting on Din’s shoulder, his arm stretched above him with his hand on the back of Din’s neck, “Look at that. Our little princess likes watching you fuck me, Lori.” His liquid voice was rough with lust and pleasure, his obsidian eyes burning like black fire. His other scarred hand was pumping over his swollen cock, moving in time with Din’s deep thrusts.

Din groaned, his helmet tilted down and tucked into Haran’s neck and you knew his eyes were darting between their bodies, and your fingers, “Good.” He gripped Haran’s hips tighter, thrusting particularly deep into his ass and both men moaned in unison, “Keep your eyes on her when I make you come.”

A keening moan left your lips, two fingers slipping down and inside your aching walls. You didn’t know where to look, what to focus on first, particular when Din’s gloved hand covered Haran’s and guided it faster over the Shadow King’s considerable length. “Harder, Lori.”

Din chuckled, low and rough, “Your wish is my command, mesh’la.” He obeyed your order, leaning forward so that Haran’s body folded slightly, allowing him a better angle to fuck up into him, deep, pounding movements of hips that had both men’s bodies jerking beautifully.

Your trio of moans bounced around the dimly lit room, the faint squeak of the bed and the sound of Din’s balls slapping against Haran’s skin…

The haze came over again, bringing with it a medley of different scenes – your lips round Haran’s cock, whilst Din lay beneath you, his tongue spearheading up into you. The three of you engaged in a messy kiss, the boys at your mercy as you moved your hands in torturous paces, making them fall apart at the same time and coat your thighs. And then Din, his long, lean body folded into the bed as Haran worked him over, first with his fingers and then his own length, all whilst Din lapped and sucked at your aching folds, his tongue inside you again.

It cleared once more.

You were spent, leaning back into Haran’s chest, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm shudder through you. You had no idea which one it was now. Your brain had given up in trying to keep count, surrendering itself to the overwhelming pleasure of your two boys worshipping your body. You were seated between them, both of them inside you still, body numb with the new pleasure from where Haran was currently softening inside your ass.

And the absolute mind melting experience of earlier, watching the pair of them fuck each other as you recovered.

“Come on, darling. We know you have more in you…” Soft lips grazed the shell of your ear, a cool wash of Haran’s breath tickling and making goosebumps rise to the surface.

Then, Din’s large, warm hands caressed your hips, your thighs, massaging the flesh with a firm grip to regain the feeling in them, “He’s right, cyar’ika. I know you have more in you… I know you want more already. You’re so good, sweetheart, you take us both so well… Want to go again?”

A breathless moan escaped your lips, your body wrecked and numb but at their twin voices, the deep purr that lined them both… The heat rose low in your belly again and you craved the feeling of them both once, filling you up, pushing you over the edge as the you all moved in a perfect, dark harmony…

~~~

You startled awake, bolt upright with the sound of seductive laughter in your ears and the twin feel of lips ghosting over your skin.

What.

The actual.

Fuck?!

It took you a moment to work out that it was a dream, that you were curled up with just Din in your small bed, the engine humming as autopilot took you to a Sanctuary planet.

Lifting a hand to your face, you felt how flushed your skin was, heat still pooling between your legs and your heart pounded. You were soaked – clearly having reached a silent high in your sleep.

What in Maker’s name was that?

Stars above you needed a drink.

You slipped from the bed, Din barely stirring - no wonder, he hadn’t slept the whole time he’d been away.

You padded through the ship to the kitchen area and poured yourself a glass of the nearest alcohol you could find – trying to ignore the fact that your thighs were a little sticky.

Why were you have fantasies about Din and Haran?

Trauma?

Maybe you were sick?

Yeah. Yeah that’s it. Sickness. Maybe even a fever.

“Oh my love, this is no sickness. You’re dreaming about us because you want it. Your knight of light and your demon of the dark. You can pretend all you like, but you’re drawn to me.”

Haran.

He was in your head - of course he was.

You growled, slamming the glass down with more force than was necessary. Your body trembled, either with anger or the aftershocks of what you had just imagined.

You recognised the wave in your mind, similar to when Ahsoka spoke to you through the Force. “Get the fuck out of my head, you creep.”

That dark, velvet laughter again, “You think I sent you the dream? Oh, darling. You were the one practically throwing it at me. Here I was, trying to enjoy a nice dream and what should pop into my head but something like that? I always knew you had it in you, darling. ”

Heat flushed your cheeks again, along with anger, “Get. Out.”

Haran practically purred, “You, Me and Lori, wrapped up together. Now, I have no qualms about a crowd, but I have to admit, I was a little surprised that you would send it to me.”

You shook your head, as if you could throw him out like that.

He continued, his voice flowing through your body, just like his lips and tongue had, the way his phantom power had provided you pleasure whilst Din explored other parts of you, “You like the idea of two men worshipping you, don’t you darling?” He was quiet, like he was reading you, “Oh, you don’t care who it is. You just want to be worshipped. And you want to watch me and your knight fuck too? Oh, you dirty little girl… Does he know? Does he know that you want to watch and be watched… That you want to try everything?”

You hissed, pushing against the feeling of him in your mind, trying to force him out but you felt his silken shadows sneaking through your body, felt the phantom brush of his hands – and other parts of him – and to your utter horror, you realised you were growing wet again.

And a dark part of you was desperate to yield to it. To succumb to that darkness and let it wash through you.

No.

Get a grip.

“Fuck. Off.”

Unbidden, your dream started to come back to you again, the boys on their knees before you, their hands, their tongues. And not only that, but the sight of them together, their bodies rocking and writhing in rhythm -

Another growl ripped from your chest, even as you ached to slip your fingers inside – or to go and wake Din up and fly to wherever Haran was - “Enough.” You threw the word through space to him, slamming it into his mind with a full wave of power.

A final dark chuckle, and then he slipped from your mind, leaving you in peace.

Well, as peaceful as you could be, with the tingles on your skin and the dampness between your thighs.

It was going to be a long night.

Previous| Next

#i am not sorry #this has been in my head for days and i had to #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #haran x reader #haran x reader x din #the mandalorian #din djarin #smut

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7of-hearts · 4 years ago

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beauyasha week day one: hurt/comfort. a 1,500 word piece about sleep!

just forewarning, there’s a brief mention of scratching/skin picking, but it’s only a sentence or so towards the beginning.

Almost every member of the Nein has trouble sleeping. Beau thinks that’s to be expected, considering all the things they’ve seen. Some nights none of them sleep, instead huddling around the fire and passing Nott’s flask around until bright oranges color the horizon. Sometimes, after the dome is set, they all simply pass out, hoping someone stays up to take watch. And there are nightmares, of course. Nights spent in the dome have made Beau intimately familiar with the aftermath. Caleb wakes up, clawing at his arms, not stopping until he recognizes the familiar curvature of the dome. Fjord sometimes gasps awake, either coughing up seawater or struggling for the breath that had been squeezed out of his lungs. Nott would wake silently, but noticeably distressed. She’d join whoever was on watch, curling her knees to her chest. Jester rarely has these night terrors, but some nights Beau will look over and see tears slowly tracking down the tiefling’s face. Caduceus is the only member of their party that Beau has never seen jolt out of a nightmare. He and Yasha, that is.

Beau is pretty sure Yasha does have nightmares, in fact, she’s nearly positive of it. It’s just that Beau has never seen Yasha fall asleep. Not really, anyways. She’s up most nights, sitting on the outskirts of the dome and digging her hands into the grass beneath them. When Yasha does lay down, she doesn’t sleep. Instead, she gently takes the book from the bottom of her bag. Beau’s spent multiple nights (nights she was supposed to be keeping an eye out) watching Yasha lightly run her fingers over pressed flower petals, almost as though she were in prayer. But she never sleeps. Beau can’t help but wonder if she’s got too many demons pressing against her to let her eyes slip closed.

_____

The first time Beau actually sees Yasha fall asleep, it’s when she’s watching the memory of her and Zuala. And part of her mind wants nothing more than to catalogue the peace that falls over Yasha’s face as she rests, but Beau won’t let herself. It feels voyeuristic, like she’s stealing the intimacy and comfort that Yasha has found. So she forces herself to turn away, picking at her nails and letting her eyes flit around the darkness before her.

When her watch comes to an end, Beau allows herself one moment to look. Just a second, she tells herself, to make sure Yasha’s actually getting some sleep. And as she watches the soft rise and fall of the barbarian’s chest, she can’t help the soft tug at the corner of her mouth. It’s still there when she turns, kneeling down to wake Fjord up for his shift. She sleeps lightly that night, waiting for a light inhale or the errant clap of thunder.

_____

Their first night in the tower, Beau doesn’t sleep at all. That’s going to be useful. Beau can’t get the sentence out of her head. She sits on the bed, staring up at that godsdamned mirror, wondering what the hell Yasha meant by that. A small part of her keeps wondering if Yasha likes her too, but she won’t let herself actually consider that. Thoughts like that bring about too many questions. Does she actually like me? Why now? How do I go about this, I’ve never really been in a relationship? Do I just ask her out? And what after that? She’s stuck in an endless cycle, thoughts spiraling until she finally gives up on sleep.

“Might as well get some reading done,” She mumbles to herself, pushing herself off the bed and out the door. She walks quietly, weight placed on the side of her foot first. Just like when she used to sneak out as a kid. The thought makes her huff, a small frown over her features as she steps into the library. She’d expected it to be empty, but there, nestled into an armchair with a book open on her lap is Yasha. Beau can’t help but think this is some kind of cosmic irony.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you?” Yasha asks when she looks up to find Beau at the entrance. Beau shakes her head, mute for a moment until she realizes she should probably respond.

“Ah, no, just couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful,” She says eventually, still locked in place. Yasha nods—something that resembles understanding in her gaze—before her mismatched eyes return to her book. Beau feels her bones unfreeze, and she shakes the imaginary frost from her body and makes her way to the bookshelf, pulling down a random tome. The Knight of Flame and Sword, the title written in a curly script that reminds Beau far too much of her mother. She shrugs, turning from the shelf and making her way to one of the other armchairs.

She sits for an hour, maybe two, not absorbing any of the novel in her lap. Her thoughts are still drifting to the woman maybe fifteen feet from her despite her best attempts to focus. Another half-hour passes, Beau reading the same passage over and over when a dull thud startles her from her thoughts. She bolts upright, her own book falling off her lap as she enters a defensive stance. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for any hint of danger before they settle on Yasha. The woman’s eyes are closed, legs pulled up onto her chair, and the book she’d been reading has fallen spine up to the ground. Beau drops her stance, features relaxing as she makes her way across the room.

“Yasha. Hey, Yash, wake up,” She says, aiming for quiet but hitting something closer to her usual tone. Yasha shifts, but doesn’t wake, so Beau pokes her shoulder a bit. At the contact, Yasha snaps awake, and Beau almost expects giant ghastly wings to come shooting out of her back. Instead, Yasha blinks the sleep out of her eyes, sinking back into the chair when she sees Beau standing next to her.

“Sorry, you fell asleep. Thought I should wake you, no point in sleeping down here when we’ve got such nice rooms. And, uh, I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. So, y’know.”

“Thank you, Beau,” Yasha says, pushing herself to her feet. She wobbles a little, her brain still sleep-addled, and Beau steps forward to steady the taller woman on instinct. “‘m sleepy.”

“C’mon, let's get you to bed,” Beau chuckles, moving to wrap her arm around Yasha’s waist and lead her out of the library. They walk slowly, Yasha’s sleepy form leaning against Beau, but eventually, they reach the barbarian’s door. Beau pulls it open, walking Yasha inside and setting her on the bed. The monk watches as she curls into her pillows, her body so small despite her size.

“Goodnight Yasha,” She whispers, quietly backing out of the room. She hears a faint “G’night Beau,” as she slips back into the hallway.

_____

Beau had never expected this to be her life. Never expected to live past 19, no less. But here she is, Yasha’s head on her chest, hand tracing patterns along her bare shoulder. The night had been perfect, and every time Beau closes her eyes she sees the way Yasha’s had sparkled in the light of the fireworks. She feels so content, despite everything.

A minute or two passes, Beau’s not sure, and she feels Yasha stir, a sharp gasp escaping her. The arm over her stomach squeezes her a little tighter and she stops her tracing.

“Yash?” No reply, but she feels Yasha nuzzle into her a bit further. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Dream. Or, a nightmare I guess,” Comes the hushed response, Yasha’s breath fluttering across her collarbone.

“What about?”

“The cathedral,” Yasha whispers, “And then Lucien. And I—I wasn’t there to save you,”

Quiet overtakes them for a minute, Beau trying to find the right words. She taps Yasha’s arm, the barbarian looking up at her (Is that fear?) before removing it. Beau shuffles down the bed, turning to face the woman beside her before guiding Yasha’s hand back around her waist.

“You’re here, Yasha. You’re here and I’m ok. From now on we’ll save each other, alright?” Beau brings her hand up to Yasha’s cheek, Yasha leaning into the touch for a moment before nodding. The silence rushes back in as Beau leans in to kiss Yasha’s forehead, the larger woman tucking herself into the contours of the monk’s body.

Beau waits, listening to Yasha’s soft breathing until she hears it even out. She knows that everything in their lives is uncertain. Maybe she should feel selfish for letting herself want this, much less have it. But she also knows that she loves Yasha, and maybe for right now she can let that be enough.

#critical role #cr2 #the mighty nein #beauyasha #beauyasha week #beauyashaweek2021 #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #my writing

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dothwrites · 4 years ago

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Cas using Enochian pick-up lines on oblivious Dean. Dean doesn't get them, Cas feels rejected each time, and Sammy is done with it all! Can I have that fic, pretty please?

ah, this has been sitting here for a WHILE, so i’m sorry that i’m trash

lost in translation

---

It begins when Dean is pathetically trying to impress his crush.

Or at least that would be Sam’s take, if Dean cared enough to ask him.

Dean would rather say that it began with a simple misunderstanding, one which could happen to anyone.

He doesn’t ask Cas’ opinion of the situation (and Cas would say that’s the whole crux of the problem).

Whoever has the correct perspective, no one would argue about the beginning of the affair. It starts one afternoon when Dean is contemplating switching Sam’s creamer with buttermilk, just for a break in the monotony. Cas is with him in the library, his customary suit and coat exchanged for a hoodie and a comfortable looking pair of jeans which Dean suspects used to belong to him (there’s something vaguely familiar about that hole in the knee, and it wouldn’t be the first time Cas has pilfered his room for clothing; several of Dean’s shirts have ended up upon the angel’s body. Cas always seems perplexed when Dean calls him on his thievery, plucking at the shirt with faint confusion--Oh this? I found this down in the laundry room a few days ago and thought it looked familiar, do you want it back? And the question is phrased so forlornly that Dean can’t help but allow Cas to steal another article of clothing out from under his very nose.). Cas dresses down these days. And slouches. Right now, his chin is in danger of disappearing into his chest. The sight delights Dean. There for a while, he hadn’t been sure Cas was capable of relaxing.

It’s an overwhelmingly quiet afternoon. It’s nice, because Dean loves to spend time with Cas when there’s no imminent blood or monsters on their horizons, but it’s also boring. Dean sneaks a glance at Cas over the top of his book. Cas seems perfectly content to sit all day reading some godawful thick, leather bound tome. Dean finds himself less than content, but he doesn’t want to leave Cas. He sighs, shifting in his seat as he pretends to read. After a few more minutes, he sighs again, this time with a little more spite in the sound.

(Dean’s about three seconds away from kicking his feet and whining I’m bored, but Cas doesn’t need to know that.)

Cas mutters under his breath. Dean recognizes the guttural syllables of Enochian, which is Cas’ go-to language for when he’s saying something hateful and he doesn’t want to get called out on it. Tough luck for him, though, because Dean’s heard one of those words enough to parse its meaning.

“Did you just call me stupid?” he demands, slapping his book down on the arm of the chair.

Castiel looks at him, his eyes wide with surprise. “You...understood that?” he asks. “You understand Enochian?”

Not in the slightest, is what Dean should say. He understands one word, and that’s only because Cas uses it enough as an insult that it managed to stick in his mind. But something that looks like fondness, and admiration, and other nice adjectives which Dean would like Cas to apply to him, shines at the edges of Cas’ eyes. So he rolls his eyes a little bit (the audacity of Cas! Asking him if he bothered to study something which was not strictly required!) and scoffs, “Uh, kind of hard not to at this point, you know, what with...” He waves his hand at Cas, hoping that the vagueness of the gesture will cover a multitude of sins.

And really, he should come clean. If the past fifteen years have taught him anything, it’s that nothing good comes from lying to your nearest and dearest. But this is just a little white lie. Like when he was sixteen and he told Brandy Fletcher he could play a rocking drum solo, because he wanted to impress her and there was no way he would ever be called upon to perform such a task. This is just a little fib, made so that Cas doesn’t think he’s a fucking idiot.

Plus, there’s something which looks horribly similar to gratitude shining in Cas’ eyes. The emotion brims over until those baby blues can hardly contain it, and Cas looks so goddamned happy. Dean’s not a monster. He’s not going to take that away from Cas just so he can come clean with a Gotcha! moment.

Cas bites at his lower lip, looking uncommonly shy. Worry starts to stir in Dean’s gut, which is only compounded when Cas says something else in soft yet clear Enochian. As the new phrase doesn’t have the word stupid anywhere in it, Dean doesn’t have the slightest idea of what Cas is saying. The guilt squirming in his stomach gets worse when Cas looks at him, with gentle anticipation, as though he’s expecting a reply. Dean does what humans have been doing since the beginning of time when confronted with a language they don’t understand and smiles, wide and sunny, at Cas. Cas’ forehead creases but he returns the gesture. His eyes are still brimming over with emotion and the sight does something to Dean.

Dean begins to suspect that he may have started something which he is not equipped to finish.

---

After that, things get a little weird. Considering Dean’s general life, that’s saying something.

Dean catches Cas looking at him more, like Cas is having a one-man staring contest with the side of his face. Cas staring at him is nothing to write home about, but his looks have gained new intensity. It makes Dean’s innards squirm with worry as well as something deeper. He’s not willing to examine that feeling any closer, though it is pleasant.

As if the soulful looks weren’t bad enough, there’s also the thoughtful slant of Cas’ eyes to worry about. Every time he looks at Dean, he looks like he’s working himself up to something momentous. Since momentous decrees from Cas usually come hand in hand with world-ending events and revelations, Dean thinks he can forgiven for dodging Cas’ presence.

It does him no good: the bunker, for all its space, is only so large in the end, and Cas was once a heavenly messenger who has the patience of millennia. Add that to the fact that Dean needs to eat at least twice a day, and the game of Cornering Dean becomes a game of cards, in which the deck is stacked firmly in Cas’ favor.

Dean sneaks into the kitchen sometime between midnight and two am. If Sam caught him, then he would get a talking-to about the most appropriate times to eat, better digestive function, and the ravages of heartburn in a man his age, but it’s not his brother sitting at the table when Dean flicks on the light.

It’s Cas, who blinks owlishly at him, before his face splits into his brightest smile.

(Cas’ brightest smile is an awkward, crooked little thing. On a regular human being it would be considered unbecoming. On Cas, it’s a thing of glory.)

“Dean,” Cas greets him. Hearing his voice in that low, rough voice never fails to send a little shiver down his spine, and today is no different. “This is an odd time for a snack.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, a little lamely. The shock of finding Cas in the kitchen has kind of killed his appetite, but it’s not like he can turn around and leave. “Just, you know, had a craving. Why were you here?”

Cas looks around the kitchen, his mouth pursed. “I like it here. It’s peaceful.”

Dean looks at him, waiting for the punchline. “You were sitting in the dark, dude.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t need lights to see in the dark,” Cas says, as though the knowledge that his best friend has some freaky see in the dark cat eye nonsense going on with him isn’t the weirdest thing Dean’s heard all day.

“Great.” Dean opens the fridge and pulls out a container at random. He spares one second to hope that Sam got rid of all the moldy food before he samples the contents. “Well, I think I’m going back to my room now.”

He wants to get out of here, not so much because he doesn’t want to talk to Cas (he has no problem with late-night chats with Cas, it’s just that he would prefer such chats take place in his room, preferably in his bed, preferably while both participants were significantly less dressed), but because Cas is starting to get that look again, like he’s getting ready to drop an atomic bomb’s worth of shit on Dean in the middle of the kitchen.

“Dean.” Cas stands up. He twists his fingers together before he realizes what he’s doing, and then places them flat against his thighs. He takes a deep breath. Before Dean can stop him, Cas opens his mouth.

Low, rolling syllables flow through the kitchen, the harsh notations of Enochian softened by Cas’ voice. There’s a question in Cas’ eyes, and Dean would answer it, if he only knew what Cas was asking.

The kitchen falls into silence. Dean gets the distinct impression that walking away is not the appropriate reaction. If only he knew what the appropriate reaction was.

He settles for plastering a fake ass smile on his face and loosing a brittle laugh which threatens to shatter the lighting fixtures. The corners of his mouth hurt from the wideness of his smile, but not even the small twinge of pain can take away from the brief flash of hurt in Cas’ eyes.

“Yeah. You bet.” Dean barely restrains himself from giving Cas a big thumbs up.

Cas’ face, if possible, turns even more disconsolate. Dean’s stomach twists at the sight.

This would be the correct moment to confess. Cas, I don’t have the faintest idea what you said, but I’d really like it if you could say it again in English, so that I could maybe comment on it. Sorry I’m such a jackass.

Dean does not confess. He reaches out and claps Cas on the shoulder, almost buckling Cas’ knees under the friendly contact. Dean almost stops, but he continues to his room, trying to erase the memory of Cas’ stricken face.

---

It gets worse.

Cas says something in Enochian to him the next morning, a tiny, hopeful smile darting across his face. Dean gives him a weak smile in return and tries not to focus on the longing, almost desperate tone of Cas’ voice. “Ok, Cas,” he says, when it becomes clear Cas is angling for something more than a smile that makes it look like he ate some bad tacos.

Cas takes him by the wrist. This time the syllables which come out of his mouth are almost frantic. His eyes are wide and imploring, and his voice cracks on the last word.

The truth, Dean. Tell him the truth.

“Look, I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean says. Confronted by the weight of his failings and his inadequacies, he flees. All the while, he feels Cas’ eyes on his back.

---

It gets worse.

Cas continues to mutter Enochian at him, alternating between frustrated, hurt, mocking, and pleading inflections. Each time, Dean looks at him in a mixture of helplessness and shame.

The last time Cas tries, there’s a faint snap and tingle of grace curling around the room. Dean can taste it in the air, ozone and electricity, before it makes the lamp closest to him spark and pop. “Great, now you’re killing the furniture,” comes out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Cas recoils as though Dean reached out and slapped him. He says something else in Enochian, his voice small and defeated. He won’t even look at Dean.

If Dean were a better person, he would come clean. He would apologize to Cas and beg his forgiveness. He would take Cas’ scorn and irritation and lump it in with the rest of the shit that’s gone wrong with his life, and they would move past this.

Dean’s not a good person. Hell, he’s not even an okay person. He’s a piece of shit who got a hell of a lot luckier than he ever deserved, and Cas is just naive enough not to realize that.

---

It gets worse.

Sam walks into the library one afternoon with a dazed look on his face which means he’s just emerged from being caught deep in a book. He runs his hands through his hair and only then seems to realize that Dean and Cas are sitting at opposite ends of the library, deliberately ignoring each other. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.

“You guys okay?” he asks, glancing back and forth between them.

“We’re good,” Dean says shortly, flipping a page of his book with unneeded aggression.

Sam flicks his eyes towards Castiel. Cas looks over the top of his book, his eyebrows twisted in a scowl. He mutters something most definitely not English under his breath, staring at Dean.

Sam chokes on nothing.

“You all right there, Sammy?” Dean glances at Sam, only to see that his brother’s face is bright red.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Castiel says something else in Enochian, sounding more forlorn than angry. Dean didn’t think it was possible for his brother’s eyes to get any wider. “Something you want to share with the rest of the class?” Dean asks. He keeps his eyes on Cas, but the question is meant for both of them.

“I think you two should really talk,” Sam says, looking back and forth between him and Cas. “I think you’re both missing some information.”

“What do you mean--” Dean pauses as the obvious answer comes to him. “Hold on. You can understand him?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room,” Castiel says, proving that he can speak English just damn fine when he wants to. Then, because Cas is an asshole whose main job is torturing Dean, he mutters something in Enochian.

Sam snorts.

If he didn’t know he would later regret it, Dean would put both of them in the ground.

“Well, if you want someone to talk to you, then knock it off and speak English!” Dean snaps. “I’ve got no idea why you’re babbling on like that and looking like I kicked your puppy when I don’t answer.”

Cas scowls, the full wrath of Heaven in his eyes. He starts what sounds like it will no doubt be a lengthy tirade (in Enochian of fucking course), before he’s interrupted by Sam.

“Dean doesn’t understand Enochian, Cas!” he shouts.

Two pairs of eyes snap to Sam. Dean’s are filled with furious betrayal, Cas’ with frustrated confusion. Sam ignores them both, rolling his own eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, look, I’m sorry to cut in your drama or whatever, and I’m sure that you two could keep this up for another three weeks, but I value my sanity. Dean, nut up and tell Cas you don’t speak Enochian. Cas, stop running into a brick wall and tell him what you want. I mean, good God, it’s like I have to do everything around here myself!”

Sam’s complaining never ceases as he peruses the shelves for the particular book he’s looking for. Both Dean and Cas are referred to multiple times as idiots, sometimes assholes, and once even idjits. Throughout his litany of abuse, Dean and Castiel refuse to look at each other, though Dean does feel a telltale prickling at the back of his neck several times. Every time he looks at Cas, however, the angel has his eyes firmly fixed on his book.

Dean wonders if Cas would get more pissed if he told him his book was upside down.

“You ever think about how much pain and agony you could save me if you two assholes would just talk to each other?” Sam finally snaps. Arms laden with books, he levels a fearsome glare at the both of them. “For homework, neither of you are coming out of this library until you’ve actually talked to each other like rational adults. And if you make any weird noises, I’m going to smother both of you in your sleep.”

He stalks out of the library, leaving Cas and Dean alone once more. Cas looks up from his book, finally realizing it’s upside-down, while Dean puts down his own book. They stare at each other for a long moment, then speak at once.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t understand Enochian?” “What were you trying to say to me?”

They stop. Dean swallows, gathers up all of his manly courage, and speaks.

“So what were you trying to say to me? It must have been pretty exciting to get Sammy clutching his pearls.”

Cas tilts his head. He considers Dean for a long moment before he crosses the space between them. Cas leans forward, putting his hands on the arms of Dean’s chair. The gesture boxes Dean in, a turn of events which Dean doesn’t struggle against.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t speak Enochian?”

Pinned beneath Cas’ gaze, Dean squirms uncomfortably. Now that it’s just him and Cas, his deception seems childish. Would it really have been the end of the world if he’d told Cas he was too stupid and selfish to learn his language? It would have just been another disappointment in Cas’ life, but has it been worth these past few days of being at odds with Cas?

Heat flushes along the bridge of Dean’s nose as he mutters, “I wanted you to think I was smart.”

Damn super-angelic hearing. Cas doesn’t miss a beat, though his forehead creases. “You wanted...what? Dean, you are smart.”

He says it so naturally, as though Dean doesn’t struggle over translations or speaking Latin or cross-referencing indexes or any of the thousand other things that seem to come naturally as breathing to Sam and Cas. “Yeah, sure, I’m a regular fucking genius,” Dean mumbles.

“You’re capable of finding the problem with a faulty engine with a single look. You built your own EMF meter out of a spare Walkman. Despite your efforts to hide it, you’re very well-read, and you have an innate understanding of some fairly complicated mathematics. I’m not sure exactly what humans qualify as intelligent, but I feel as though all of those skills count.”

Dean knows his whole face is red. Heat prickles along the tips of his ears and down his neck. “Jesus, Cas,” he mutters. Unable to withstand the force of those blue eyes, he darts his glance down towards the floor. “Most people don’t start sweet talking until the third date.”

“Well, I’m an angel,” Castiel says, smugly, as though that solves every argument (not a bad strategy; that line’s worked for Cas for years. What else can you say after that?).

“All right, I answered yours, now you answer mine. What were you trying to say to me?”

Amazingly, Cas’ cheeks color.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean wheedles, when Cas doesn’t immediately answer. “I told you mine.”

Cas looks off to the side. He actually shuffles his feet before he answers, “It was just a thought. I thought, maybe, we could...Never mind. It was stupid.” He looks back at Dean and rolls his eyes, showing how ridiculous he finds this whole trial. “I guess, roughly translated, it would amount of something like ‘If only he were as decisive as he is pretty, then there would be no problem’.” He forces a weak laugh. “I said it in the heat of the moment. I was frustrated.”

Dean blinks in astonishment. Only one fact has managed to slip through the tangle of Cas’s words. “You think I’m pretty?”

Castiel’s blush deepens. “Anyone who has eyes would think that,” he says, a little roughly.

An automatic flush spreads across Dean’s cheeks, but he’s able to ignore that. He’s much more interested in what else Cas might have been telling him. “And what was something else you said?”

Cas coughs. “’Your eyes are bright as the sunrise, yet they fail to see what is in front of them’,” he says. If possible, his already rough voice has deepened.

“Another.”

Cas doesn’t pretend coyness. “’You had my heart from the first time I saw your soul’,” he says, in a near whisper.

Dean can’t hold himself back. He snatches Cas’ hoodie in his hands and drags Cas down to his level. Cas lets out a surprised grunt before he gracefully collapses atop Dean. He’s barely managed to balance himself on Dean’s lap before Dean’s lip are on his.

Despite Dean’s rushed actions, the kiss is sweet and almost chaste. Cas’ lips are warm and chapped and utterly wonderful. At first, they’re stiff, but only for a second. Then Cas relaxes into the kiss, sighing happily as his hand cups Dean’s cheek. Cas’ stubble scratches against his chin. He’s going to bear the marks of Cas’ affection later, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

Cas parts from him, but not far. In fact, he’s close enough to Dean that when whispers a phrase in Enochian, his lips brush against Dean’s.

A shiver of delight runs down Dean’s spine. Now that he knows the gist of what Cas was trying to say to him, Enochian fills him with illicit glee. “What did that mean?”

Cas kisses him again, adding a cunning sweep of his tongue across the seam of Dean’s lips. “’Of all the stars in the heavens, you shine the brightest’,” he translates, resting his forehead against Dean’s.

Heat floods through Dean once more. It’s everything he ever dreamed of hearing. It seems impossible that he could have it. There should be a rule against it. Dean Winchester doesn’t get what he wants.

Except, apparently, Dean Winchester does get what he wants, as evidenced by his lapful of angel murmuring Enochian endearments into his ear. “Hey Cas?” Dean tilts his head to catch Cas’ eye. “When I first saw you, sparks flew. How would you say that in Enochian?”

Cas thinks for a second before a smile spreads across his face. “I’ll teach you,” he promises, before he pulls Dean’s face towards him once more.

(Sam’s warning about making weird noises makes a lot more sense now.)

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #canonverse fic #fluff #dothwrites

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theskywaslookingback · 4 years ago

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JonTim Week 2021

Protect + things you said when i was crying

The library of the Magnus Institute was an awe inspiring thing; a cavernous maw of knowledge and learning, seas of books - old and new, leather bound and paper backed, hundreds of thousands of well cared for tomes - perched almost precarious on dark wood shelves and lit by old wall sconces. Students and researchers both milled about, picking up books on history, or architecture, or something a bit less mundane. At the front was a large mahogany reception desk, and Tim smiled at the young woman sitting behind it.

He cleared his throat and the young woman looked up from her work, startled, before her face lit up in a toothy grin.

“Morning, Tim!”

“Good morning Holly, how was your weekend?”

Holly wrinkled her nose and gave a dismissive wave. “Fine, fine. Did you do anything fun?”

Tim had spent most of his weekend in bed, staring at the wall across from him and trying not to think of anything at all. He shrugged, “Bit of this, bit of that. Do you have anything for me?”

Holly nodded. It took her a moment to find a small stack of books, tucked off to the side with a little slip of paper that read “Tim Stoker :)” in a scrawling, chicken scratch of a font. “Martin put these aside for you on Friday before he left. I’m not sure what you’ve already looked at if you want to take a peek.”

Tim shook his head, “I’m sure it’s fine Holly, thank you.”

She nodded and handed that stack over. “If you don’t mind me asking, I’d love to know what research-”

“Thanks again, Holly,” Tim said brightly, tucking the stack against his chest without looking at it, “have a good day!”

Her confused “you too” fell on deaf ears as Tim turned and hurried back down the hall to the Research department.

There were very few people at their desks at half past eight on a Monday morning. Richard had the desk closest to the door and raised a coffee mug at him in greeting with a sleepy smile. Renee and Charles had appropriated the corner desk, Renee sitting cross legged on the old oak and making expansive gestures and talking quick and low while Charles leaned on the wall and grinned at them. Jonathan was already at the desk next to Tim’s, headphones in and typing away at his laptop with dark circles under his eyes like he’d spent the weekend sitting there - with Jon, that was entirely possible.

Tim sat his books down and let his messenger bag fall off his shoulder and into his seat. He took his time setting up his laptop and sorting through his books. At some point a couple more researchers trickled in through the door, wiping sleep and hangovers from their eyes. A soft susurrus of noise drifted through the room as people got settled, exchanging files and stories from the weekend.

Tim exchanged pleasantries with Simon, who had the desk to his left, and Sasha who’d recently transferred from artifact storage. He waved off Sasha’s pointed questions about the bags under his eyes and deflected with a good natured self-jab at staying out too late the night before. Sasha seemed unconvinced but left him be easily enough, leaving a stack of statements on the corner of his desk that she’d leafed through and wanted his help making a few calls about.

The noise of clacking keyboard keys and gentle conversation was usually comforting, but Tim had felt on edge for days and now it just grated. Maybe Jon had the right idea, with the headphones.

Eventually Tim closed his laptop and picked up the books he’d grabbed from the library. He leafed through them seemingly at random; one on the architecture of Robert Smirke, one of the history of the circus in the United Kingdom, one a biography on a man named Joseph Grimaldi. Tim hesitated on the biography, his fingers tracing over a picture of the man dressed for his famous clown act.

He tried not to look at that clown and think about Danny, because thinking about Danny brings about guilt and anger so whole and consuming that it threatens to swallow him.

He’d been so close to the edge for so long, it’s almost funny how quickly he breaks.

He doesn’t register the book falling from his hands. He doesn’t register the quiet falling across the room, the people turning to look at him. He can’t think about how numb his hands are, the way his breath catches and crashes out of him like an offbeat drum.

The question, when it inevitably comes, hurts just as much as Tim had been afraid it would.

“Are you alright?”

Tim barked out a mirthless laugh, half insane with rotten grief.

“Right,” The voice came again, flustered, “Of course not. Okay--”

A hand moved into his vision, catching his gaze and pulling it up until he was eye to eye with Jon.

Of course it was Jon.

It could only be Jon.

“Tim, do you want to leave?”

There was no way to answer that, not really.

It was easier to focus on Jon’s face, lined with worry. His body blocking Tim from the room’s prying eyes. His hand, still outstretched in askance. Jon watched him for a long moment before nodding, seemingly to himself. “Okay, up, come on.” He said, his hand hovering over Tim’s shoulder.

Tim rolled into the touch and Jon’s face crumpled into something unreadable before Jon was pulling him up and out, guiding him down hallways and through doors with a firm hand. They fell to a stop in a discarded room, the walls stacked high with unpacked boxes and old furniture. Jon guided him to sit in a mostly stable metal folding chair and crouched in front of him, digging in his bag. After a moment he pulled out a bottle of water and offered it up to Tim.

Any gratitude Tim might have felt was buried under a wall of numb sorrow, a ‘thank you’ crumbled and died in the back of his throat. He washed it down with some of the water and didn’t bother trying to put the cap back on with his fingers shaking so badly.

It was only when Jon offered up a packet of tissues that Tim realized he must have been crying.

Embarrassing, that. Probably. Once he could remember what feeling felt like.

Jon turned his face away while Tim scrubbed at his eyes, a play at privacy Tim could at least pretend to appreciate.

“Where are we?” Tim asked once he’d pulled himself into some semblance of normalcy.

“Ah,” Jon looked around the room before shrugging one shoulder awkwardly, “I’m not sure, really. I just...wanted to get you away.”

“Get me all by myself,” Tim said, almost a joke. He leaned into it, trying to land for humor but stumbling a bit on the dismount. “Can’t tell if you want to ravish me or kill me.”

Jon swatted at his knee, lighter than he normally would. Gracelessly, he tactfully avoided Tim’s attempt at a joke with an honesty Tim was still trying to get used to. “Neither. Neither I just...you’re my friend, I wanted to—“

“To?”

“Protect you, I suppose. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“Yeah, well…” Tim trailed off, “too late.”

Jon’s hand was so warm where it rested against his knee, a light pressure that squeezed just a little to make Tim look down at him.

“I know.” Jon said simply, “I’m still here, though.”

Tim let his hand fall on top of Jon’s.

Eventually he’d need to pull himself together enough to get back to work, or to pack his things and take a sick day. He’d need to field off the questions and well meaning coworkers. He would need to figure out a way to look at that book without falling into pieces.

But for now it was enough to sit and remember how to breathe, with Jon at his side.

#fic #my fic #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #jontim week #jontimweek #jontimweek2021

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the-blind-geisha · 3 years ago

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*Waves*

Hi, howdy, hello new followers.

As a heads up about this blog, I am mainly an insert blog but do my own original characters and original worlds on the side here and there. I'm BIG on monsters, Demiurge and Albedo from Overlord, Jujutsu Kaisen, Legend of Zelda, nearly anything Final Fantasy, original content, and right now, Swatch from Deltarune.

I write more than draw because drawing saps all my energy.. lol But you'll see my art here and there. Animation I've not done in years, so don't expect much there.

I am age 30+, so minors DNI, please.

My stuff gets very on the dark and or raunchy side of things that I don't want you to consume, talk to me about, or even dare request from me. Please respect my boundaries. ♥

The way my requests work are a bit random right now; especially since I'm heading into retail hell season time and my store is understaffed. ♥

I do accept questions/ideas about a character be them headcanons or small snippets that are usually under 1K words, but nothing longer than that unless it's a fic I'm already working on. ♥ Whenever I reblog drabble prompts, the stories end up a bit longer. Whenever I open actual requests of 'send me any idea/ any character', those go to about 9K words in length. I sometimes open love letters too, so keep an eye and ear out.

I rarely...very RARELY open artwork requests. It sometimes happens, but not often.

I do offer commissions, but only specific things now will I accept. The link of that is in my 'about me' section of this page. My Master list is pinned to the top of my Tumblr. ♥

The stuff I'm working on is below:

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Keep up with my goings on: To-Do List

Fics with Demiurge I'm currently doing: ♥ The Tome of Ashurbanipal ♥Amnesia: A Dreamer’s Requiem ♥In Another Life, We Could Have Been Lovers ♥ The Demon King of the Desert

Other Current fics I'm Doing: ♥A Love Most Profound ♥Within The Dream Temptation (Main) Places I be: ♥Instagram ♥Twitter ♥Tumblr

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This week, I'll be working on 2 different requests asked of me for Tome of Ashurbanipal as well as a commission in private and an art piece of Swatch this week when I have the time and more importantly, the energy. ♥

I hope you enjoy your stay~.

#at the color café hur hur #i kid but really lol #and yes i don't put my exact age down #all you need to know is i am not under 18 #i'll die in my old age saying i'm over 30 we'll put it that way rofl #requests #headcanons #original works #fandom #fanart #fanworks #fan fics #monster fucker #monster lover #mod talks #and tbf i love swatch b/c he's pointy and has swept back black hair like demiurge lol

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

Note

I love your blog and your stories and I just wanted to say that your updates have been the highlight of my time in quarantine so thank you so much for writing!!!

Hopefully quarantine has been kind to you and it’s safely easing wherever in the world you are. As thanks, have a few silly thoughts that might make you smile.

Parenting was not something Vesemir was a natural at. While young children and trainees, he could exert some control through the sheer fact that he was the adult in the situation. But when his pups grew up and even Lambert was closer to 90 than 80? That kind of authority did break down, even if his idiots still behaved just the same as when then were children.

It was a small blessing that, on his Path, Vesemir saw a new method of bringing order to unruly children. So, by the time he had returned to Kaer Morhen, he was equipped with large sheets of parchment, several balls of twine as well as quills and ink. He knew his pups, he was well prepared.

As with every year, his pup returned for winter and Geralt even brought his bard along. To start with, it was all so calm and nice but Vesemir knew the peace wouldn’t last. Sure enough, dinner happened, Eskel ended up pouting and trying to wipe wine from his shirt while Lambert laughed. Without a word, Vesemir stood up and left. Three minutes later, he was back and he hung a sign around Lambert’s neck.

I spat my wine on Eskel then complained I didn’t have any wine.

That was how it all started. The signs stayed for an hour usually though Jaskier had a certain pride in his signs. He wore his third one for a whole day with a smug smirk. It had read:

I kept half the keep up with noisy sex.

When questioned why Geralt didn’t have a sign like that too, Vesemir tried to not look too flustered.

“Because it wasn’t his moans and screams keeping us up.”

He should have known it would be seen as a challenge. But he didn’t think it would be one Geralt took gleeful part in too. The next morning, the sign was cheerfully moved from Jaskier’s neck to around Lambert’s by Geralt.

At least Vesemir could trust Eskel to be sensible and not join in. All through the various signs, he seemed to sit back and observe. Though he did look a little smug when Lambert and Geralt had one sign between them, keeping them close for a whole morning.

We fought over who was the best witcher to impress our bard.

Something told Vesemir that maybe Eskel had more to do with that argument than he let on. However, without any proof, it was impossible to do anything. So Vesemir went about his days as if he had a golden pup who was better than getting involved in such petty squabbles.

Perhaps the most bizarre day was the one that started out with a sign around Lambert’s neck.

I yelled at Jaskier until he made me breakfast even though it wasn’t his turn to cook.

A difficult start to the morning that only got worse. Especially when Geralt, for the first time on earth, kicked up a fuss about wearing a sign. All it said was:

I stole Lambert’s breakfast.

He insisted it wasn’t him, even went as far as taking a bite out of the sign in protest. Which only earned him an addition on his sign.

And I also bit this sign out of anger.

Unfortunately, Jaskier chose that moment to open his mouth in goading.

“It’s okay, I also put a dash of pine sap in there. You won’t be able to deny having stolen Lambert’s breakfast when you start throwing up.”

Which was how Jaskier ended up with an I tried to give my pack-brother mild food poisoning. And got the wrong brother. sing dangling around his neck.

It was fine except for the fact that Geralt didn’t throw up. He didn’t even look mildly poorly other than his deep frown and fussing with the sign. Lambert began grumbling about the extra mutations giving Geralt an unfair advantage. They were gathering for morning training while Lambert was wondering what else Geralt could eat, wondering random objects out loud. Thankfully, Vesemir managed to step in before Geralt ate dirt on a dare and it also saved him some parchment. Despite being so well equipped with supplies, that rate at which they were going through them was alarming.

“Where’s Eskel?”

This led to a great hunt through the keep until Geralt found him huddled miserably behind the stables, trusty goat at his side. He looked like shit.

“I guess we know who really ate Lambert’s breakfast,” Geralt muttered darkly before yelling “Found him!” for all to hear.

Because Vesemir was a kind man, he didn’t make Eskel wear a sign while sick. Though he was a little surprised that Jaskier so easily volunteers to care for him and rub his back while he threw up as it would give the others a chance to train.

By the evening Eskel looked a little better, even managed to have some broth at the dinner table. Something was amiss though, Vesemir knew witchers and their rate of healing. There was no way Eskel was still as poorly as he made out. It clicked the moment he saw Jaskier flitting about, fussing over Eskel. A new sign was made.

I pretended to be more sick than I was, just to get the bard’s attention.

Eskel was absolutely shameless in wearing it, sending Jaskier a little wink as he adjusted the settled the sign against his chest.

Really, Vesemir was too old for this kind of shit. All he wanted was a nice, quiet winter where he knew that he and his pups were safe. He worked hard to make sure everyone was provided for, gave what he could. It was exhausting and some nights Vesemir didn’t make it up to bed from the library where he liked to sit and relax with an old, familiar tome.

Usually, on the mornings that followed, Vesemir would wake with a crick in his neck and an arm numb under the book. What didn’t happen was that he would wake to a throw covering him, the book set to the side and a pillow under his cheek to keep his neck safe. Plus a sign around his neck.

I work too hard to keep my pups in line.

#geraskier #jaskier x witchers #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #vesemir #tldr: vesemir tries to use signs of shame to parent his pups

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