#Elfie Makes Drinks

[leftsidebonfire]

Elfie Makes Drinks! Again! Today's Drink is for a very special and important part of the Strawhat Crew. The reason they even took to the seas successfully in the firstplace!

The Merry ⚓️🏴‍☠️

Ingredients: Vanilla Chai Brown Sugar Maple Blueberry Boba Whipped Cream

Fun Fact: Anyone who saw my Usopp drink, you'll notice that they both share a base of Vanilla and Chai 👉👈 This was entirely on purpose, as Usopp and Merry had a very special bond, I thought it would be a very nice touch to connect even their drinks 💕 This drink was very delicious, and this is coming from someone who was a bit iffy on Chai. The brown sugar cinnamon put it over the top and the hint of Maple made it taste like pancakes. Absolutely wonderful, 10/10 would sit on the deck of the Going Merry and enjoy 🏴‍☠️

Any requests for future drinks? 😎🧋

@supernaturallyginger

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Another thick folder falls on your desk. You look up as Mr. Fowler strides without a word into his office. No explanation, no directive, as ever he's elusive but demanding. 

You sigh and push your mouse aside, bringing the folder in front of you. You open it up and find stacks of hand-written notes, receipts, and reports. You get the happy task of digitizing each one and sorting it into the electronic archive for investigation.  

Your boss closes himself into his office as you sit in the vacant silence of the small lobby. It's no walk-in location. PI work doesn't exactly operate that way. Corporate investigations are even less advertised. Fowler does more than find the corruption, he scrubs it when necessary. 

You expect the discretion of the work is why he hired you. You don't talk much. You do you work without question and clock out. Still, it doesn't keep you from after hours or early arrivals. He texts and you're where you need to be. 

You sort through the thick folder. Chronological or by type? Some don't have dates and what would you categorize a cocktail napkin as? You get up and haul it all into the copier room. It's the smallest room in the rented space, made tighter by the filing cabinets and the industrial printer. 

You unhook your laptop and bring it into the copier room. You put it on the narrow table and go to task. It's mindless work. You fall into the pattern of scanning, numbering, and cataloguing. The copier hums in the empty static. 

No music, no noise. Your request for white noise was declined without consideration. You accept without argument. Fowler isn't the type to entertain pushback. He's the boss. 

Whatever, you wouldn't trade the silence for the top ten on repeat at your previous retail gig. The people are enough to make you tolerate the isolation. Besides, it's a job, it's not meant to be fun.  

You get your kicks after work; a drink with your fellow corporate drones down at Retro's. Thinking of, it's been some time since you had a spicy margarita. You pause your work and go to retrieve your phone from your purse. As you find it hiding in the middle pocket, Fowler's door opens and he promptly marches over to stamp his mug down on your desk. Shoot. 

"Emergency?" He wonders as his blue eyes narrow at your grip on the phone. 

"No, sir, checking the time," you lie and drop the cell back in your purse and hide it in your drawer. "Coffee?" 

He doesn't answer, merely taps the brim and walks away. He leaves his office door open as he retreats. You give a tight smile to the empty office and snatch up the dark blue cup. 

You take it into the little room meant to be some sort of break space. You don't take breaks and neither does he. You approach the expensive nespresso machine and go through the motions. Cappucino. You've become a pseudo-barista since you started the job. 

The smell of coffee tempts you. You're permitted to have one of your own but you have to supply your own coffee and dairy. It's easier to hit the cafe on your way or pack a cup from home.  

You carry it out and tentatively approach Mr. Fowler's door. You peer inside and clear your throat. He sneers at his phone without acknowledging you. You near and place his cup on the marble coaster beside his apple mouse. 

"We have an extra mug?" He asks without looking up. 

"Yes, sir, I think--" 

"I don't need you to think, I need yes or no." 

"Yes," you swallow down his bluntness. As you least you never have to wonder what's on his mind. He'll tell you. 

"I'm in expecting someone in twenty minutes." 

That's it. You have the pieces, put it together. His visitor will require their own beverage. Lovely. A rare drop-in is hardly exciting, more stressful. If they're important enough to come in, they're important enough to be concerned. 

You go to find a second cup. You have your own, a red travel mug without a handle. You’ll leave the silicon lid in your drawer and give it a quick rinse.  

You wait behind your desk, the mug clean and sparkling beside the nespresso in anticipation. You’ll go back to your scanning once you have the visitor settled. You know Fowler wouldn’t want them walking into an empty desk. In the meantime, you sift through another case file on your screen. 

When the door opens, you pop up, overly alert. That’s not your usual state. This place makes you sleepy. You stand up to greet the man as he steps through. 

He’s tall, taller than Fowler, but slender. While his shoulders are broad, the rest of him is trim. His blonde hair is kept neatly and his blue eyes are crystalline where your boss’ are dark and stormy. This man is like sunshine compared to the usual grim cloud over this place. 

“Hello, uh, sir,” you smile, “you must be here to see Mr. Fowler.” 

“Yes, that’s me,” he says breezily, “Jonathan Pine.” 

“Okay, erm, I’ll let him know you’re here,” you round the desk, hitting your hip on the corner but hiding the pang it sends down your thigh, “uh, would you like a coffee?” 

“How kind to offer, but no, I’m more of a tea drinker,” he replies, “pardon, but I didn’t get your name.” 

“Elfie,” you utter instinctively, “er, excuse me, I’ll just go let Mr. Fowler--” 

You scurry to the office door and it opens before you can reach it. Mr. Fowler steps out and sends you a sardonic look. You wince and step back out of his way. He struts by and approaches Jonathan, Mr. Pine properly, with his hand out in offering. 

“Pine.” 

“Nick,” the man answers familiarly, “long time.” 

“Not long enough,” Fowler counters as they shake hands firmly. He’s a few inches shorter than Pine though hardly falters at the fact. “Elfie, coffee.” 

“She did offer,” Pine intones, “I politely declined. You know it isn’t my style.” 

“Mm, yes, I know your style too well,” Fowler rebuffs and lets him go, gesturing him through his office door. As he follows, he glances back at you and arches a brow. What did you do wrong this time? 

[a1sh1teruu]

christmas dinner ; j.yh

— synopsis:: it didn't just end with one dinner.

— contains:: fluff (very much of it), accidental confessions (?), ceo!yun x secretary!reader, f!reader

— wc:: 1,5k

— note:: this fic is dedicated to my lovely lilo/@seonghwaddict <3 this is not my best work because i'm so bad at writing fluff, oml- it's short and quick :,) but i hope you like it. yours dearly, secret elfie <3 gasp this is my first fic of 2024 hihi

The hall was warm while you sat at the long table full of food and drinks, conversing and laughing with your colleagues as you enjoyed the Christmas dinner your boss had hosted. You sat next to him, Jeong Yunho, talking to Wooyoung, who was sitting right across from you. The dress code was red and green, perfect for that one dress that has been collecting dust in your closet, the rhinestones shining under the warm lights with every movement, with your hair done, so your neck and v-line of the dress was revealed. It went well with the delicate chain of your necklace and dangling earrings. 

You’ve been Yunho’s secretary for a little over a year now and everything has been going smoothly, a bit too smoothly for a simple work relationship, though. After a while of sitting in the same position, you adjusted your legs to get more comfortable, your knee bumping against Yunho’s. You didn’t pay any mind to it, though, keeping your knee pressed against his as you continued your conversation with Wooyoung. Softly leaning forward, your chest pressed against the material of your dress, the skin threatening to overflow the seam. 

Through all of this, Yunho couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you, following each and every movement of your well-manicured nails to your smooth legs that were currently pressed against his knee. He didn’t hear a single word that left your glossy lips.

“How do you see it?” Wooyoung’s question harshly pulled the young CEO out of his thoughts. Wooyoung seemed to notice his friend’s absence, a small smirk stretching on his reddened lips, the effect of the wine evident.

“Huh?” Was all Yunho mustered before turning to look at you and then back to Wooyoung.

“He isn’t even listening,” Wooyoung deadpanned, looking at you with a scowl on his face directed at you. Turning back to Yunho, he clarified, “I think, young Leonardo DiCaprio was hotter than Johnny Depp.”

You scoffed as you leaned forward. “Johnny Depp was way hotter than Leonardo DiCaprio, just admit it,” you hissed, a playful glint shining in your eyes. While you and Wooyoung continued to argue about who was hotter, Yunho just chuckled as he took another bite of his food. “Even Yunho agrees with me.” You touched said man’s shoulder as you stuck your tongue out to your friend. 

“Only because he has the hots for you,” he blurted, making you laugh heartily, not believing a word Wooyoung said. Yunho on the other hand almost choked, quickly grabbing for his drink to flush down the food that was stuck in his throat. Your hand moved from his shoulder to his back, patting his firm back. “Please don’t die on us!” He wailed dramatically. 

Through the hours, your co-workers went home one by one, until it was just you, Wooyoung, and Yunho. You stayed behind to help clean up and get the place ready for after christmas break. After you were done, you looked at your work with a proud smile. “Done!” You huffed, high-fiving Wooyung. “Let’s go home,” you said as you reached for your jacket that was draped over the back of your chair and wrapped your scarf around your neck. 

Wooyoung got picked up by his roommate, San, and left you and Yunho alone. “Bye!” You waved your friends goodbye. The cold breeze of the december night had you shivering, shoving your nose into your scarf to protect your airways. “I wish it snowed so the cold would pay off,” you muttered into your scarf as you smiled up at Yunho. The man felt his heart leap into his throat as he nodded with a soft smile. 

“Heard it’ll snow tomorrow,” he said through a chuckle, his warm breath fogging in front of his face. After a short moment of silence, Yunho spoke up again. “Do you need a ride?” He asked, pointing at his car. 

You followed his finger and then looked back at his face. “No, I’m good. My sister is gonna meet me halfway.” You shook your head as you waved a dismissive hand in front of your face. Yunho could see the light discoloration on the tips of your fingers and your lips due to the cold. 

Yunho’s brows furrowed as he tilted his head sideways. “(Y/N),” he started, making you look at him. “It’s really fine, I don’t want you to freeze and it’s really late.” He went quiet, looking intensely into your eyes. When you noticed that he wouldn’t relent, you agreed, nodding. “Sweet, let’s go!” You quickly called your sister to tell her not to leave the apartment and that Yunho was driving you. A sigh of relief fell from your lips as the passenger seat started heating up and warm air was hitting your face. 

“Thank you,” you said happily, earning a nod and a hum in response. The low rumbling of the motor relaxed you as the pretty lights whirred past your eyesight, the car drowned in a comfortable silence as you sat still with your hands shoved into your pockets. While you basked in the silence and peace of the moment, Yunho’s nerves were on overdrive. He wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t know what. Every now and then, he sneaked a glance your way, his fingers twitching around the wheel. Thankfully, but also not thankfully, the drive didn’t take too long. 

Yunho parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Let me walk you to your door.” Before you even had the chance to gather yourself and unbuckle your seatbelt, Yunho was already on your side, opening the door for you. “You better not cut from my paycheck,” you joked, poking him in the chest, thus earning a soft chuckle. His voice was always a weak spot of yours, warmth pooling in your belly every time you heard it. “I had fun tonight.” You hummed, walking side by side. You nodded as you rang the bell. “I, uhm, wanted to ask you something,” he trailed off, tilting his head slightly as you looked at him, eyes round in curiosity. At this point, Yunho felt his heart in his throat.

Just before he could continue, you two heard somebody yell, “mom, (Y/N) brought her boss!” Your sister’s voice echoed through the whole neighborhood as she looked out of the window straight at you both. “Mom said you should invite him inside!” 

Wide eyed, you looked up at Yunho only to be met with a wide smile, his hand waving at your sister. “I’m sorry, I can’t, my mom’s waiting!” Your sister pouted at his answer.

Suddenly, the heavy doors opened, revealing your mother with a container in her hand. “Here, take this.” Yunho was practically forced to take the food your mom made, smiling and thanking her for it. After giving her a hug and bidding you goodbye, he left. 

“Ow!” You rubbed the spot where your mom pinched you. “What was that for?” 

“Don’t miss out on this.”

A week passed and you were back in your office, typing away on your laptop, organizing the to-do lists of the month. You shivered as a cold breeze brushed over your skin, your teeth clattering together. Just as you wanted to stand up and look if somebody kept a window open, you saw Yunho in the doorway with two paper cups in his hands. “Figured you’d like some hot chocolate.” 

You two spent a good hour conversing and talking about the upcoming events regarding the company, and to no one’s surprise, Yunho agreed with all your plans and outlines. You were talking about an upcoming meeting, showing Yunho the timetable and the attendees that would be flying in. Your train of words came to a halt when you felt Yunho’s warm hand on yours, the other closing the laptop. “What are you doing? Do you not like it?” Your brows furrowed as you searched Yunho’s face for any sign of dislike. 

He just sighed, a smile stretching on his lips. “You did great, but we just got back from the holidays and you are working so hard. Look,” he straightened his back. “How about we go out and eat something, my treat.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “I can’t,” you trailed off, looking down at your notes. “You already did so much for me, I just–”

“(Y/N), I like you.”

“Huh?”

Yunho huffed, running a hand through his hair. “I like you, like, like like you. And I know it’s wrong, you’re my secretary, I’m your boss…” He stopped talking once you touched his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you like this.”

A smile slowly stretched on your lips as you leaned forward. “I like you too,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “Like like you.” This earned a soft chuckle from the man. Standing up, he took your face in his large palms.

“Can I?” He asked sheepishly. When he got your affirmation he needed, he leaned in and planted a soft peck on your waiting lips. “So, how about that dinner I talked about?”

@a1sh1teruu 2024 | ©️ do not steal or plagiarize

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

Noi :)

Despite the fact that Noi is someone who, previously, had a lot of energy for stuff, getting his magic drained kinda drained his energy too. For a few hours, he's good, but he's tired for the rest of the day. He's able to join in when everyone goes on their little adventures, but he knocks out as soon as he's somewhere comfortable.

He enjoys bright colours and lights, but he mostly hangs around in comfortable clothes. He can't be bothered to waste energy on menial things, like pulling on jeans, or trying to figure out how to button up a shirt. He can wear some of Ava's stuff, since she usually gets her pyjamas a few sizes up.

His horns and tail are metallic looking, and i would lie and go 'oh there's different kinds of daemos' (which there are) to justify it but nah i just got bored and shaded them that way lmao. Gonna keep it bc it's funky.

Even though he's the weakest of the Daemos, he's still quite intimidating to normal human dudes.

He enjoys things that are typically 'unhealthy'. He lounges about, eating junk food, drinking fizzy drinks, etc. He also, in his limited awake time, enjoys himself some videogames.

He's the best out of the bunch at videogames, and so he got some weird amount of respect for that. He obliterated them all at COD and since, well, it is warfare of sorts, they had to admit defeat. The others even tried to make a 'if you didnt get a scar it wasnt a battle' excuse but he did end up getting a scar from asch rage quitting and throwing one of the controllers at his head. so, well, battle.

That said, He played three seconds against Ava and got absolutely destroyed. Ava promised not to tell the others.

In Asch!Harem context, he first got a little bit of a crush on Asch when Asch first took him in as a knight. It was a pity knighting, but he appreciated it none-the-less. It's kind of a childish crush, but he's still very fond of Asch. He's happy just being Asch's friend, though he, uh... hasn't quite gotten there yet.

Slightly offended that the Empress Dowager (Lady Grandma) treats him like he's adorable when she thirsts over the others, but he does like how nice she is to him. She can be a little harsh, but she's the *Empress Dowager*, he can accept it.

Mrs Oats was the first person who ever obviously perved on him, and he honestly didn't know how to feel about it.

He has a fascination with Koi fish. "Their names are like mine!!!"

His ears are kinda fucked up. they're less elfy and more just.... weird.

[daitranscripts]

Trespasser Conversation

Sera

Trespasser Masterpost Sera Masterpost

Sera: Inquisitor Herald. Glad to be back for… whatever it is this lot have shoved up their sleeves. Just… right up in there.

PC: That’s it? It’s been some time.

Sera: Well, we don’t know what’s what, so what’s there to go on about? It’s Inquisition business, innit? That’s all we are.

Broke up Could’ve been better, but we aren’t so… there we go? Maybe later, when we know… anything? Scene ends.

Had cookies on the roof, low approval Had some cookies once or twice, but we’re chilly now, so… maybe figure out why they dragged us here? Scene ends.

Low/Neutral approval/did not have cookies on the roof Maybe sort out how they want to mess with us. Then there’ll be something to talk about? Scene ends.

—

Romanced Sera: Hello, love. Tell me do when we’re done fixing things. I have sideways plans for you.

PC is a Jenny Sera: Go figure out what end this bunch want, and then we can get to fun with Friends and friends.

After returning from crossroads Sera: Hello and shhhush! I’m trying to figure out why everyone is acting so weird. I mean, besides because Qunari assassins and… everything. You see it, right? There’s something going with the elf servants. Makes sense after that ruin, right?

After returning from the Deep Roads Sera: Qunari first. Mix with elves. Add dwarves. Ugh, doesn’t anyone drink their booze one at a time anymore? And the elves here are still squirrelly.

1 - Dialogue options:

Flirt: I was thinking about you said. [2]

General: Still suspicious of elves? [3]

Investigate: Thoughts on the Inquisition? [4]

General: Goodbye for now. [5]

2 - Flirt: I was thinking about you said. PC: I can’t stop thinking about what you said.

Married Sera: Never cared about words until I got vows. Now they're everything. You're everything. [back to 1]

Not Married Sera: We traded promises. I'll keep yours if you keep mine. By your heart. For grabsies. [back to 1]

3 - General: Still suspicious of elves? PC: When you start going on about elves, it’s hard to tell if it’s about them or you.

Did not romance Sera/did not break up after WPHW Sera: Yes, yes. You’re ever so clever. Arse. Point is, the servants have no complaints. No asking for a Jenny. They serve this lot, but don’t want them done for anything? PC: So… the nobles are nice, and the servants are happy? Sera: Two things that have never been true. Mark that I said it, we’re fighting Qunari, but something else is on the up. [15]

Broke up after WPHW Sera: Ugh. And when you do that, I don’t know if we’re talking about what we’re talking about, or if we’re talking about Mythal. Again. Yes, I was a bit shit. No, it wasn’t fun. Yes, we maybe could have compromised. No, it isn’t about elfy stuff now.

Dialogue options:

General: I don’t care. Make your point. [6]

General: You’re for compromise now? [7]

6 - General: I don’t care. Make your point. PC: Don’t drag that up. Just get to the issue with the servants. Sera: Point is, the servants have no complaints. No asking for a Jenny. They serve this lot, but don’t want them done for anything? PC: So… the nobles are nice, and the servants are happy? Sera: Two things that have never been true. Mark that I said it, we’re fighting Qunari, but something else is on the up. [15]

7 - General: You’re for compromise now? PC: Now you think there could’ve been compromise? You drew a hard line at the time. Sera: Well, now I could slap your arse and say, “That’s very interesting.” But back then, “elfy” hurt too much. Because I was never the right kind. It would have been bad, anyway. It’s like Giselle, patting heads but moving the Maker higher. Saying one thing but meaning another. We were grand but kind of broken. So we stopped. And maybe that’s good? To be stupidly true, even if it ends things?

Dialogue options:

General: Surprisingly mature for you. [8]

General: Sounds like bullshit. [9]

General: Too bad it didn’t work out. [10]

8 - General: Surprisingly mature for you. PC: That may be the most adult thing you’ve ever said. Sera: (Scoffs.) To you, maybe. ㅤㅤ ㅤ 9 - General: Sounds like bullshit. PC: Even after all this time, it still seems like a shit stunt. [11] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 10 - General: Too bad it didn’t work out. PC: A shame it ended like it did. Sera: It really is. We’re alike on that. [11] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 11 - Scene continues. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Neutral/low approval [14] ㅤㅤ ㅤ High approval Sera: So… friends? Because everything seems like it’s ending, and maybe it’s been too long to sit on this much growly? ㅤㅤ ㅤ Dialogue options:

General: I’d like that. [12]

General: I prefer the distance. [13]

12 - General: I’d like that. PC: I think so, too, Sera. Time to let it go. Sera: If you’ve no plans later, do you think we could survive a drink for every time things were stupid? PC: (Chuckles.) Unlikely. [14] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 13 - General: I prefer the distance. PC: Let’s leave it as it is. Sera: Right. Well. That’s that, then. [14] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 14 - Scene continues. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Sera: Anyway, point was, we’re after Qunari, but the servants are acting weird. So… watch out for that? Scene ends.

15 - Dialogue options:

General: Thoughts on elven Creators? [16]

[Back to 1]

16 - General: Thoughts on elven Creators? PC: I suppose you’ve a lot to say about that elven ruin. About the Creators. Sera: They’re not even demons, just big magey nobs punching down. And yes, the shits who used them to make me feel broken can still eat it. But… always waiting for that fight is way too much work. It’s like, doing half the hurt for them. Maybe we’re old now, but I’m tired of it.

Non-Dalish PC Sera: We’ve new fights to look forward to. We always do, seems like.

Dalish PC Sera: I’d rather worry about people I care about. Like you. Are you all right with it? The… Creators?

Dialogue options:

General: No, I’m really not. [17]

General: I’ll be all right. [18]

17 - General: No, I’m really not. PC: I don’t think I am, Sera. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Romanced Sera: I’m bad at this, but I don’t care. I’m just… here when you need. Forever. Promise. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ Not romanced Sera: I… don’t know words that fix things. But you have friends. We’re real. Please remember that. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 18 - General: I’ll be all right. PC: I’ll make sense of it eventually. Sera: Good that someone’s trying. Better that it’s you, because you can do it. [back to 1]

4 - Investigate: Thoughts on the Inquisition? PC: It’s been a couple years. How’s everything sitting with you? Sera: It’s weird meeting back up and seeing everyone get their grey. First time I’ve been anywhere long enough to get fond of things.

Choice dependent dialogue:

Cassandra Divine [19]

Leliana Divine [20]

Vivienne Divine [21]

19 - Cassandra Divine Sera: Cassandra is staying herself. So far. Hopefully. She needs someone to watch out for her, so I kind of do. [22]

20 - Leliana Divine Sera: Leliana’s friendly when she wants to be. My people sometimes do things for her, like I do for you.

Sera (romanced): Well, not quite like I do for you. [22]

21 - Vivienne Divine Sera: Vivvy is still Vivvy. Never could suffer anyone having a bigger hat. You know it’s solid, right? To stop me hiding fish up there. [22]

22 - Scene continues.

Romanced Sera: How's it feel to be the reason for all of it? Especially for me? That's my biggest growy-uppy, love. Being for someone else is… brilliant. [back to 1]

High approval Sera: And all for Andraste, I suppose. It still rings right, but the way people used to go on about it, I thought there’d be more trumpets. [back to 1]

Low approval Sera: All that blood and thunder just so everyone can live well on our once-around. Good lesson, I suppose. If there had to be one. [back to 1]

5 - General: Goodbye for now. PC: We’ll talk later.

Non-Dalish PC Sera: Count on seeing you, yeah?

Clan Lavellan did not survive Sera: Oh, one thing? I have a new Jenny near Wycome. Says he saw when your clan… well, I'm sorry that got lost while everything was happening. He says there could be survivors. A few. But they would've got away by being hard to find, so… he'll keep looking? For what it's worth, anyway. Not much, I suppose, but there you go.

Clan Lavellan alive Sera: Oh, one thing? My new Jenny near Wycome says your clan's doing well. Nice that some things work out, even if everyone's too busy to notice. That's why I notice things.

Romanced Solas Sera: Oh, and Inquisitor? Feels weird, but I'm sorry Solas never came back. Well, no, I'm not, but… I'm sorry he left you. For what it's worth, anyway. Not much, I suppose, but there you go.

[anti-eluvians]

Lavellan changes after drinking from the Well.

She had mirrored her surroundings, trying to be as bland and Chantry-like (as human-like) as possible. If she acts too inhuman this unpredictable Seeker might throw her back in the dungeon to be forgotten. Certainly no one in Haven would protest. She reaches out to other elves but is swiftly rejected. She doesn’t hear from the clan and assumes she must handle this alone. So Lavellan smiles and tells no lies. She moves softly. She doesn't know what happened in the Fade, she makes no claims of divinity, she tells jokes only when she knows they will land. She asks Cassandra if an elf should really lead this religious Inquisition, then declares the Inquisition for order, for safety, for all of Thedas. Only when asked directly does she say “I believe in the Elven gods.” And when Cassandra asks "Is there no room in your pantheon for one more god?” Lavellan bites her tongue and smiles.

After the mages, the Wardens, Halamshiral, she reflects less and dares more. She tells jokes that makes her audience groan. She charms the most prickly Orlesian visitors, teaches Harding dances and trades songs with Maryden. She helps Cole help people, she adopts Sutherland And Company, she attends drinking parties with the Chargers, she tends the wounded at Skyhold, she visits the soldiers down in that icy pass at Skyhold’s feet. She is everywhere doing good works, carefully building a reputation for the Inquisition and the Dalish and, despite herself, the Maker. She smiles at “rabbit” and tells Solas later that she just barely resisted the urge to hop around the ballroom. Leliana only gets reports of muffled screaming (as if into a pillow) after particularly nasty nobles visit. Lavellan is friends with everyone in the fortress, she is interested in everyone and all they have to say. She interviews scholars and priests, taking copious notes, until they flee the castle. She joins or starts chess tournaments open to all. She pulls in Dalish mages to show the kitchen staff (and any human mage who will listen) how to make ice cream. 

But after the Arbor Wilds, everyone tumbling to the floor in a tangle days before the Inquisition leaders can return, she stays down longer than the others. Morrigan and Solas leave immediately, and only Cole remains when she can finally stand. Over the next month the inner circle finds her staring into space more and more often. They find her in the eluvian room where Morrigan no longer goes, sitting beside the mirror with eyes closed and face lifted to the sunlight. Iron Bull and Varric hear whispers that she’s praying. Sera joins her one day but can’t stand being so close to ancient elfy magic and flees after an hour. Blackwall quietly carves her a chair in the Dalish style and asks Dorian to distract her while he sneaks it into place.

Lavellan is less prone to bad jokes. She trains alone and starts fewer games with the denizens of Skyhold. For a week she skips her nightly study session with Dorian and Josephine, driving them both frantic with worry. But after seven days she appears like clockwork, bringing a small journal crammed with notes on ancient elven culture to discuss with Dorian. She begins to wander the soldiers’ camps near the lake, or stare into the wind on Leliana’s balcony, or, more and more often, sit silent in the eluvian room. The normal folk assume she is praying to one god or another. Those closer to her hope she is meditating on the mirror and what Corypheus might do, until one day Vivienne sees a flash of light and watches her step down from an unannounced stroll in the Crossroads.

“You are the Inquisitor,” Josephine begs over dinner that night. “Please do not go to such dangerous places alone. I cannot think what we would do without you!” Lavellan blinks, her halla-horn mug paused just above the table. Most of the circle holds their breath. “I wasn’t alone,” she assures them all with the smile that Josie now dreads. “I had an excellent tour guide. The spirits of the Well are very familiar with the Crossroads.” Solas stands, drawing everyone’s attention. Impishly Lavellan adds, “And they're full of stories.” The elven apostate leaves without a word.

Morrigan and Solas rarely speak to her anymore. Lavellan pretends not to notice but her hurt is made obvious by Cole’s sudden, constant presence at her side. Varric knows she looks up to Morrigan as a hero of the Blight. Solas’ sudden withdrawal had left her spinning, untethered and angry. At first Varric (and the rest of the castle) attribute her odd behavior to the breakup, but her resilience and stubbornly hopeful outlook make that hard to believe. But many more things go missing around the fortress, and when asked Cole apologizes for leaving so many people bemused. But he also says the tree's roots have not regrown so he will not stop. Whatever he's doing helps; Lavellan begins to spend less time with the mirror and more among her people again. The chess tournaments resume though she refuses to play herself. 

But months pass and during state dinners, or out in the field on night watch, or in the war room, she closes her eyes mid-sentence to listen to something only she hears. She might nod, or frown, or smile gently, then look at the faces around her and change the subject. When Morrigan sees this she always leaves the room in a huff. When Solas sees this, The Iron Bull tells Krem over a pint, he flees like his clothes were afire.

Lavellan replaces her human-made armor with Dalish styles one piece at a time. Cassandra frets at the lack of steel until Lavellan points out that the chainmaille on her arms is safer than the hide she had been using. Only the Inquisition chestplate remains, strapped on over tabard and belts. She polishes it herself to such a shine the eye flashes when she turns, blinding enemies but calling allies. She is always fully present during a fight but the inner circle votes not to send her to the front lines; keeping her safe is more important than keeping her present.

One day while bringing books to the Inquisitor’s tower Dorian sees the Templar flag is down, neatly folded and draped across a banister. In the room upstairs, he tells the others, are the red sheets presumed lost to Cole’s helpfulness weeks ago. They gently drape from ceiling to the floor over her bed, a long warm arc like a ship’s sails. The image reminds Cassandra of something she can’t quite place until their next visit to the Exalted Plains, Dalish aravels rumbling past them on the road. Cassandra watches the Inquisitor wave to the clan with a smile on her face and something dark in her eyes. That night Lavellan goes missing again and returns at daybreak, arms full of dusty relics from a lost elven fortress nearby. The group seeks out yesterday’s clan and spends hours being thanked, fed, blessed, and promised favors for the return of such treasures. Cassandra watches the Inquisitor laugh and smile and ask if she can visit them at the next Arlathvhen. 

After months of avoiding the Exalted Plains and Emerald Graves, suddenly the inner circle is in semi-permanent residence. Lavellan vanishes for hours at a time and comes back with torn clothes or twigs in her hair. Dorian, Varric, and Vivienne work out shifts to escort her on what turn out to be simple walks. They move with her through mists and down paths, taking her gently by the arm when she’s so deep in thought she doesn’t see the trees ahead and the giants in the distance.

Then at last, after two encounters with Mythal they are ready. Everyone agrees Corypheus has been too quiet. The Inquisition has the power and people to stop him if they just knew where to look. During a late night (or early morning) war briefing Lavellan takes too long to respond to Josephine's "Does the Well have any suggestions?". The advisers trade nervous looks as her eyes sink closed then snap open. Cullen softly ventures “What um... did they say?” Her glance cuts through him, through the walls, through the stone and wood between the War Room and the library rotunda.

She walks out. 

[senseandaccountability]

It's always funny to me to read about fandom theories that have stewed for years between new canon sources and then discuss them with my husband who's deeply nerdy about the same things as I am but refuses fandoms because he thinks people are too annoying. I'm spending October dying inside over various things I read on reddit whereas he's had a peak and fell into rant mode and swore never to read anyone's take on Dragon Age ever again, LOL.

"Solas isn't a great mastermind manipulator why does everyone in fandom think people are such brilliant manipulators they're mostly winging it in the moment ffs, he's weird because he's an ancient elf and he's fucked up because he's likely bound to some ancient oath that he hates but again ancient weird-ass elfy shit and he will absolutely not destroy the world in Veilguard come on, he's wrecked with guilt and scared to die alone that's not the stuff they make villains from. Oh and by the way he didn't want you to drink from that well not because he fears you'll challenge him for power THAT HE DOESN'T WANT but because nobody should be bound to Mythal since she's a raging bitch and I bet my ass Solas knows a thing or two about being bound to would-be gods. Also, shut up Varric."

[jazzmckay]

oh! kiss meme, adoribull, 36 :)

36. …to give up control.

excellent prompt, tysm!! it was a fun challenge :> i totally meant to write smut, because obviously, but then my brain went places and now here's this sort of abstract interpretation of the prompt. i should still write the smut tho. it's what they deserve.

so, featuring: dorian pining and sorting through Tevinter Baggage, and dorian & sera friendship because i love them your honour.

***

Dorian stands at the window of his library nook, a book balanced on one palm to act as a guise. His attention is not on the page of yet another borderline useless tome, but through the foggy glass that grants him a view of the courtyard below. The portcullis has been cranked open, where a couple dozen mounts are saddled and ready, their riders taking their places. At the front, The Iron Bull pulls himself onto his massive Frostback elk, then calls something to the others gathered around him.

Dorian wonders what Bull is saying, but it was his own decision to remain at a distance rather than seeing the Chargers off.

When subtly pressed, Adaar divulged that they would be cleaning raiders out of the Hinterlands. That’s not overly far. Better than crossing Orlais to the Wastes, certainly. They won’t be gone so long.

With a soft sigh, Dorian turns from the window, not wanting to watch them leave. He makes a conscious effort to actually read the passage that his unseeing eyes roved over and over while he was utterly distracted watching the Chargers gear up and get ready to go.

In the end, he wishes he hadn’t bothered with the book. No better than drivel. Dorian pushes the book back onto the shelf, and decides he would be better served finding a different distraction.

*

The first time Rilienus leaned in for a kiss, Dorian turned his face away, receiving upon his neck what was meant for his lips. He’d wanted to kiss Rilienus, he’d wanted that and much, much more—more than they could ever have together. Dorian already knew what was planned for both of them, and it was only a matter of time.

He should not get attached. (He was already attached.) He should not allow himself to consider what-ifs. (He had already wondered if Rilienus would risk as much as Dorian would for a chance at true happiness.) Giving someone so much sway over his heart is a terrifying, dangerous thing. (Luckily—or unluckily—Dorian does not scare easily.)

Rilienus didn’t push the matter. In time, Dorian still ended up learning the shape and taste of his lips anyway.

What a tragedy, that.

*

“Bet it takes you so long to get out of those buckles it counts as edging.”

Dorian snorts inelegantly. He will blame that on the crude southern wine they’re drinking tonight. “If you fell asleep in the stables, the horses would mistake your hair for hay.”

Sera wiggles her toes as she laughs. Her foot is braced upon Dorian’s thigh, and he’s trying his darnedest to keep his hand steady enough to paint her toenails with grace despite how sloppy they’ve gotten over the course of the night. It’s more than late; the tavern around them has emptied, leaving them to hide away in Sera’s wonderful little nest.

“Do ‘Vints take classes in school for how to be prissy?”

“As a matter of fact, we do.” Dorian carefully sweeps the brush along the curve of Sera’s nail, finishing off the smallest toe. “At least I retained something of my education.”

She huffs and kicks him with her other foot, upon which the paint is already dry. “Not a good thing! They teach you nug dung!”

Dorian chuckles under his breath as he caps the paint jar and slides closer to her on the bench, repositioning her legs across his lap. He grabs their current bottle of wine to take a mouthful of it, then rests back in the many pillows Sera has amassed over the months. It’s surprisingly comfortable. More comfortable than lying alone in his own room.

As he drinks, she waves her foot around, inspecting it. “Now I’ve gotta act like an elfy elf and walk around barefoot so everyone can see.”

“You do not,” Dorian says. He hands her the bottle back. “They should please you first and foremost, before anyone else. Or you should finally sleep with that Valo-Kas you’ve been drooling over.”

“Oi.” She nudges him with her leg. “Don’t get on my arse about drooling.”

Groaning, Dorian tips his head back into the pillows, closing his eyes. Sera was with them and Adaar when The Iron Bull so casually announced their affairs, completely shameless and lacking in tact, as if he had nothing to hide.

It should not have been stirring. But to hear a man publicly address their budding relationship, and to revel in it? That was new and rousing, even if equally frustrating, as Dorian’s inclination is still to remain quiet about such things. Being open about his affections is a fairy tale.

The Iron Bull didn’t seem to think it so complicated.

The wine bottle gets pushed against his shoulder. “Can see you tying your head into knots,” Sera says softly, half in empathy, half sleepily.

Dorian accepts the bottle and takes a drink. It’s light in his grasp—almost finished. They should probably call it a night, but Dorian is quite comfortable exactly where he is, here with Sera draped over him and the scent of wine and varnish in the air.

“It’s been a fortnight,” Dorian says. I miss him, is what he means.

“Didn’t seem too fussed about him leavin’.”

No, of course not. Despite The Iron Bull’s lack of subtlety, their relationship is still largely a secret—Dorian has no doubt that the knowledge has spread a little, but not too broadly, for which he is grateful. Having attachments, he has learned, is risky, and it is even riskier for those attachments to be known by others. He has made it more complicated by growing fond of a qunari, even if said qunari recently became Tal-Vashoth. That distinction would not matter a jot to people like his parents.

Not that he particularly cares what they think anymore, but old habits die hard.

“Bit daft, if you ask me,” Sera continues. She pauses to yawn, then burrows into the cushions. “You find someone like that, you should be yelling it from the rooftops.”

Dorian’s chest clenches, and he curls his fingers tighter around the neck of the wine bottle. If only it could be so simple to let joy override reason, to think nothing of consequences, to not only let someone have all of him, but to let the world know it to be the case. To be open about one’s affections is to invite everyone else’s opinion, to invite all manner of weakness and vulnerabilities. This is a lesson Dorian learned the hard way.

He lifts the bottle and drinks the last of it, setting it on the floor with the one they already emptied earlier. How nice it would be, to have Sera’s certainty and boldness when it comes to matters of love.

“You are far wiser than your conduct suggests,” Dorian says, as light-hearted as all their jabs at each other.

When Sera doesn’t respond, he glances over at her, finding her with her face squished into the pillows, lips slightly parted as she breathes in an even ebb and flow. Dorian can’t help but smile to himself at the sight. To think she once looked upon him with wariness.

Carefully, Dorian gathers her legs again, slipping out from beneath her and laying them back down on the cushions. He is in no rush to return to his own room, so he simply sits back down on the other end of the bench, removes his boots, and fits his legs up alongside hers, letting the wine and the soft rhythm of her breathing lull him to sleep.

*

Adaar and Josephine have become sickeningly sweet in recent days. They greet guests and diplomats to Skyhold while arm in arm, and Adaar always leans down to kiss Josephine before they part ways, sometimes on the lips, sometimes on the cheek. Their love is evident in how they smile at each other. Dorian is happy for them.

They make it look so easy.

Feeling wistful, Dorian imagines how it might have felt to have that with Rilienus, if their Tevinter peers cared not for the fact that they were two men, just as no one here cares that Adaar and Josephine are two women, one of whom is an Antivan with status while the other used to be naught but a qunari mercenary.

It’s still a pretty fantasy to think of what might have been with Rilienus, but Dorian knows a little something about falling for a qunari mercenary himself. His imaginings quickly turn to The Iron Bull’s large hand resting against his back, to the way he laughs deep and unrestrained, to fighting beside each other so intuitively, to how he makes Dorian feel like something precious in their private moments.

Dorian would not like to look back on this years from now with yearning, wishing he had allowed himself more. Not when the only thing stopping him from having more right now is himself.

*

As the week comes to a close, Dorian grows ever more agitated, wishing he knew when the Chargers would be back in Skyhold. It can’t be much longer now, he thinks.

He used to be so much more patient than this. His dalliance with Rilienus had been careful and covert—they couldn’t be seen slipping away together too often, they had to make time between their obligations, they were used to stolen moments and pretending not to care so deeply while in the presence of others.

Dorian supposes he doesn’t find the clandestine nature of it as romantic as it felt at the time. Now, he wants something solid, something he can rely on. He wants to be at The Iron Bull’s side whenever he so chooses.

He wants to let go of the lessons taught to him by his home country.

During a game of chess with Cullen, Dorian maintains a casual expression as he asks, “Is there any word on when the Chargers will be returning?”

Cullen lifts his eyes from the board to regard him, but as Dorian anticipated, he doesn’t question Dorian’s reason for asking, merely says, “They sent a raven when they finished their mission; they’re already well on their way back to Skyhold.”

As someone who doesn’t like others prying into his business, Cullen tends not to do much prying himself, unless he must as Commander. They’re friends, besides—Dorian wouldn’t even mind telling Cullen about his relationship with The Iron Bull. But Cullen doesn’t ask, and Dorian enjoys the opportunity to play at shifting his boundaries without being questioned.

He also takes the opportunity to nudge a chess piece onto a different tile while Cullen’s attention is upwards.

Cullen still takes the game despite Dorian’s best efforts. He was, perhaps, a little distracted with the thought of having The Iron Bull back in his bed before long.

*

Dorian is sitting in the library with a book open on his thigh when the horn sounds from below to signal a returning party. Without even considering it first, he snaps the book shut, sets it aside, and stands. He has never greeted The Iron Bull and the Chargers at the gates before, always waiting until it would not be out of place, until they can convene in one of their bedchambers for the night, but this time will be different.

He takes the steps down into the base of the rotunda, then into the main hall. No one glances twice at him, no one wonders where he’s going or why. It’s easy as anything to continue outside, into the lower courtyard, where there’s a bit of bustle as the stables are being prepared for mounts that need tending, and others merely wait to see friends return. The Chargers are well-liked. They tend to have an audience when they’re all gathered together like this.

It isn’t a long wait, blissfully. The clop and clatter of horse hooves sounds against the bridge leading into the keep, and then the Chargers—with The Iron Bull at the helm��are pouring through the raised portcullis, looking travel-worn but whole and happy to be home. The Iron Bull is always a sight to behold, but especially now, he is in his element, looking every part the strong, powerful mercenary, all muscle and assurance.

Needing to be at this side, Dorian starts forward, weaving his way through the onlookers. All of them will see him approach the Chargers, all of them will be watching. There is still a kneejerk lurch in Dorian’s stomach at the thought of losing this secret, of having to weather whatever follows, but he intends to be fearless again.

The Iron Bull dismounts and rolls his shoulders back, warding away the stiffness that comes from riding long distances. He turns, almost immediately spotting Dorian in the crowd. He smiles openly, though it’s still restrained, as he knows Dorian worries about what people will think.

Dorian smiles back. He breaks through the throng of people and continues up to the Chargers, who are starting to draw their horses over to the stables. The Iron Bull only stands where he is, at his mount’s flank, and watches Dorian intently.

“Hey, big guy. Missed me that much, did you?” he says when Dorian reaches him, low enough not to be overheard.

Normally, Dorian might make a quip rather than respond with honesty, hiding behind flippancy or even jests. Today, he says, “Very much so.”

He lifts a hand, resting it on the strap of The Iron Bull’s harness, fingertips hooking over the top of the heavy leather. Kissing The Iron Bull like this is always so deliberate—Dorian must stretch up on the tips of his toes, or else tug The Iron Bull closer. He does both, and sees the question on The Iron Bull’s face before Dorian captures his lips in a kiss.

Dorian has always been too aware of those around them during moments of stolen intimacy in public. Every time they end up leaning into each other at the Herald’s Rest, every time they catch each other’s gaze too long to be merely friendly, every gesture that can be interpreted as more—but now, he thinks nothing of their surroundings. The ache in his chest from missing The Iron Bull begins to unravel, smoothing into affection and contentment. The Iron Bull wraps an arm around his back, solid and warm.

It’s like restrictive bonds being cut loose. Like being released from a cage of his own making.

“Dorian?” The Iron Bull murmurs against his lips, asking for an explanation through tone more than words.

“Let them see; let them think what they will,” Dorian says. He cannot control how others will react, nor how this may change others’ perception of him, but he has made the choice to not compromise himself for others before. He can do it again. “Besides, they should all know you’re mine, I think.”

The Iron Bull grins crookedly, slipping his hand lower on Dorian’s back and tugging him closer by the hips. “Is that so?”

“Naturally. I will demonstrate this fact,” Dorian says, “after you no longer smell of blood and horse.”

In response, The Iron Bull nuzzles his nose into Dorian’s cheek, laughing softly when Dorian sighs.

This is the man who holds Dorian’s heart, and Dorian has no regrets, not about their relationship, nor about what others think. It’s freeing to acknowledge that. To no longer hide, to no longer fret, to no longer keep such a firm grasp on a secret that should not need to be a secret at all.

Dorian smiles and squeezes his fingers around The Iron Bull’s arm, finding himself not only unafraid of this public intimacy, but savouring it.

It’s something he’s been missing, and he’ll never have to go without it again.

[stephdragonness]

👀👀👀

(sequel scene off from "Broken Heart 💔 valentine AU", try intrepid how 👀 - "look at me." / "let me look at you." so go with me on this just idea i came up with, just write out scene)

"The two Had their Valentine dinner, it was decided to continue the date to a local club where had special "valentine couple discount happy hour/dance". the two had few drinks before doctor gave signal he wanted to take his date onto dance floor.

Dr Cortex "Shall i have this dance" pulling out all charm he could.. he was enjoying the night with his unexpected blind date and like show more appreciation for her, he present her his hand out to take like a gentleman.

Steph: "hmm alright" she giggles at his manner "So Doctors know how to dance hmm?" she went take his hand and got up from her seat to join him.

Dr Cortex: he gave a smirk back at his date, his ego charging up. "im very adequate with many forms of dancing.. i used to be quite Hip back in the 80s (disco cortex skin)." he takes her into simple waltz with slow music played in the club.

Steph: she thought to herself how sweet the doctor been, they chatted over dinner there occupation, hobbies and general life things...she maybe new to wumpa islands/ Wumpa Town and have heard of some notorious story's of the Mad Doctors lived on the wumpa islands, so hearing him say his name was a surprise, she was not going judge the man from rumours, he happen be rather awkward mostly at the start but then relaxed and show more his better side, no mad doctor malice then his ego to gloat of his work but she didn't mind him, she like nerdy types anyway.

Two took time to dance and sway to music, 'bee gees -how deep is your love' played in background and was soothing to souls of the room, even there were few passing glances from people who knew the mad doctor and gave a scowl of dislike.

Steph: "Very smooth Doctor... you got some moves on you i didn't think someone of your state could do, hope your full of more surprises tonight to enchant me."

Dr Cortex: "Hmhmhm A Scientist like me always have few tricks up his sleeve, tho You are the one Who is Enchanting tonight." it was cheesy of him bounce back the

Steph: she could feel her cheeks warm up at his compliment, her heart swelled she locked eyes with the doctor Infront of her, she lit out soft snark from her lips" if you keep making smooth moves like that.. im not going able to walk soon." she smiles softly to doctor she whispers low " im glad my other date ditched out, cause i got better deal right here with a handsome Doctor"

Dr Cortex: he could only chortle softly from his throat and stared back at his date, her smile made him melt away any malice/grief of his other date cancelling on him cause seem found someone better, "just beautiful night with a beautiful lady" he return the compliment.

Thier night was going on very sweet and maybe just be more in making between them.💘

©toysforbob©SIERRA-Activision/Vicarious Visions©spyro ©ToyForBob©Beenox©Activision© Crash Bandicoot Doctor Neo Cortex ©OC/FC/ART©StephDragonness© Tools~ClipStudioPaint|X-Do Not Steal/Trace/Repost my Art-X| https://stephdragonness.carrd.co/ Links to my Other Medias

[hearteyedbunny]

Nothing Would Be Harder Than Knowing You're Not Mine

shane/elfie

i wrote this back in september, but i think im finally gonna post it here. lil thing for shane and my farmer elfie. a little bit angsty but fluffy in the end <3

Shane was crazy. He had to be. There was no possible way that any of this was even real to begin with. He was deluding himself, like he always did, trying to convince himself that anything good could ever happen to the likes of him. He was just stupid. He was always stupid. She didn’t, and couldn’t love him.

The sound of the glass bottle being sluggishly placed back on the table echoed against the walls of his untidy room. At least it was on the table, unlike so many of the beer cans and assorted alcohol bottles littering the floor of his room. He always said he would eventually pick them up, but he supposed he said that about everything in his life. I'll pick up those bottles tomorrow, I'll start to cut back on beer tomorrow, I'll finally fucking do something with my life tomorrow.

Shutting his eyes, he groaned and leaned his head back against the wall he was sitting against. His thoughts were still swirling in his head even after consuming more than half the bottle. He knew he shouldn't drink the whole thing, but how else would he get rid of these thoughts of insecurity, of self doubt, of���her? 

She was so beautiful. Not in a human way, her teeth too sharp and her eyes having that animalistic instinct to them. Her long, dark hair shimmered green in the bright sunlight as her small horns poked out of the top of her head. Shane couldn’t help but think she was ripped straight from his dreams. Maybe an acid induced dream, but a dream all the same. She always seemed so ethereal, yet dangerous. Like an otherworldly being with the power to turn him to ash with just a glance of those wild eyes.

And what was he? A human? A pathetic one at that. All he ever did was drink, work, drink, work, and drink again. Occasionally he would interrupt his schedule to head over to her little cabin on the farm so she could have her fun with him. Not that he wasn’t grateful for it, oh how grateful he was to even have a woman look at him, let alone allow him to pleasure her over and over, but is that all he was good for? Sex? He couldn’t even wrap his head around the idea. Why was she wasting her time with him, of all people? Shane was convinced she pitied him, that’s what it had to be. She could have anyone she wanted, multiple people if she so wished. She was so heavenly and enticing, why was she screwing the town drunk? Did she enjoy toying with him, luring him into a false sense of security and then crushing his already fragile heart?

“Fuck,” Shane’s head was spinning, not just from the alcohol, but from all the thoughts rushing back to him. He drank to get away from these feelings, not to accelerate them. Groaning under his breath, he struggled to steady himself against the wall so that he could stand up. Maybe I need some fresh air, he thought as he stumbled his way out of his bedroom. Anything beats rotting inside my room. 

Thankfully, Marnie and Jas were nowhere to be found as he made his way into the kitchen. He grimaced at the thought of Jas having to see him this way, and he hated to think of what Marnie would say about her good for nothing nephew being drunk again. Sighing, Shane managed to grab a can of cold beer from the fridge before making his way outside into the evening sun.

The crisp, cool autumn air was at least a small relief to his burning face. Alcohol always made him feel so warm, but never in a pleasant way. He always loved this time of year, when the leaves turned different shades of gold and burgundy and the hot, humid summer air finally subsided. Every year autumn hit the sleepy little countryside of Stardew Valley and every year Shane asked himself why he never went outside more and enjoyed the weather. Depression would do that to you, he supposed.

Somehow he managed to stumble his way to the edge of the forest, the large pond coming into his sight. The old dock creaked and wobbled under his feet as he made his way to the very end of it, plopping himself down so that his legs dangled off the edge. Cracking open the beer, he leaned himself back on his other hand, taking a sip and looking out at the clear, blue water in front of him. He always loved coming here when his head was clouded, somehow it put him at ease even if just for a little while. For a moment he closed his eyes as his head continued to spin with his intoxication, but it didn’t stop him from taking another large swig of the beer in his hand. At least his head was swirling because of the alcohol and not because of all the thoughts and doubts he had about his…relationship. If he could even call it that.

Shane thought that if he fell asleep right here on this dock, he wouldn’t mind it at all. In fact, he felt himself starting to doze off until his peace was interrupted by a terrifyingly familiar voice that immediately snapped him awake.

“Shane!” Elfie’s always excited voice came from behind him, causing him to straighten from his relaxed posture and tighten his grip on the can of beer in his hand. Shit, he thought, Of course she’s here. Another reason to hate living in such a small town. Can’t a drunk man spiral in peace?

He hadn’t even turned around at the sound of her, too scared to even face her right now. The silence from him didn’t deter her at all though as she plopped herself comfortably next to him at the edge of the dock, her legs so long that the ends of her dirty work boots dipped into the water below them and caused a ripple.

“Hey!” She was grinning that too sharp grin at him, her canines seeming to be even sharper than her other teeth. Usually the sight of them caused Shane’s stomach to flip in delight, but all he could think about at the moment was throwing himself into the pond and to never be seen again. Wishful thinking.

“H-Hey…” He finally muttered back at her, only half meeting her gaze before he looked out into the water again, making sure to chug the rest of his beer as he did. He was definitely going to need it.

“I didn’t see you today! You’re usually always at the bar so I went there looking for you,” She smelled like sweat, Shane noted, but somehow the smell of her perfume still lingered on her skin despite how much labor she put into that farm, “But you weren’t there, and Emily said she hadn’t seen you either, so I thought you’d be home,” If Shane had been looking at her he would have noticed how animated she was as she rambled, always using her hands to talk and map out exactly what she was feeling. Not to mention how her tail swayed absentmindedly, another reminder that she was so wholeheartedly not human, and that Shane was way in over his head. 

“So here I am! And I found you!” She was beaming at him, her feet swaying as they hung off the edge of the rickety dock. Shane had only half been listening to her, mostly because of the alcohol fogging his brain, but partly because he just didn’t know what to say to her. He felt petrified, starting to sweat as all his racing thoughts came back to him full force.

What did he want to say? What could he say? Would she even care how he was feeling? They weren’t dating, after all. At least he didn’t think so. Why would she put any thought into how her latest fling felt? Is that what he was to her, a fling? That had to be it, that’s all he was to her. Just a fun little toy to play with until she inevitably got bored of him and realized what he really was. The town bum, a drunk, a depressed, lazy sack of shit that was only good for pitying. She didn’t return his feelings. He would never be enough for her to be considered anything more than a fleeting thought. He would never be good enough for anyone. Never, never, never, never, never…

“Shane?” 

He realized he had taken too long to reply as his thoughts suffocated and consumed him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, exhaling loudly as he tried to compose himself, apparently forgetting to breathe in his haste. 

“Are you okay?”

He swallowed thickly, allowing himself a glance over at her despite knowing it would be a mistake. She was looking right at him with those beautiful, big brown eyes that shone golden as they reflected the setting sun. Concern traced her features as her thick brows furrowed slightly, causing Shane to look away quickly in shame. He couldn’t handle her looking at him like that. Like she actually cared.

“I…Yeah. I’m fine, just…” He couldn’t breathe, he felt like his chest was going to explode as his heart raced. His hands were sweating, “Can I ask you a question, Elfie?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, why was he so stupid? 

“Oh, yeah! Anything,” She didn’t seem to be picking up on his absolutely earth shattering anxiety, simply smiling softly at him and giving him all her attention.

Shane's mouth suddenly felt like sandpaper, his tongue too heavy in his mouth and his throat feeling like it was going to close up. His heart was beating so fast he could feel it thump-thump-thump in his ears, making his head pound. He should have brought more beer.

"Do you even care about me? Like, really care about me?" His voice broke slightly, tears stinging at his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He hesitated to say the word love instead, not being able to take the heartbreak if she said no.

"We sleep together, don't we?" She cocked her head slightly to the side, her eyebrows scrunching a little as she attempted to understand Shane's question.

"What? Yeah, but…" He avoided her gaze, his grip on the can of beer in his hand tightening so that it had started to dent. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"I don't know it," Her tail was twitching curiously as she watched him, trying to understand what he meant. He seemed upset, angry…but why? Didn't she show that she cared about him? They hung out all the time, they kissed, they were intimate. Isn’t that how humans were supposed to act when they cared about each other? Hadn’t she been doing that for months now? She knew he had been drinking, and she only hoped this was a spout of drunken stupor. Elfie wished that humans would just say what they really meant, instead of making her guess.

"You…" he huffed a frustrated sigh, his patience being strung even thinner than it usually was,"You do know. I know you do," He couldn't stop his hands from shaking, "I just want you to treat me like a real human being. I'm not just some toy for you to play with. I'm real, Elfie!"

She was quiet for a moment, only staring at him as his words washed over her. 

"But I'm…not a human being," Her words were laced with confusion. She didn't understand, but a pang of guilt shot through her chest nonetheless. She finally looked away from him, trying to find an answer as she glanced down into the rippling blue water below them, "I'm sorry, Shane. Is that what you want? A human?"

"Fuck," all the effort of holding back his tears was in vain, as they finally started to burst from his eyes and roll over his reddened cheeks. They felt hot on his face, the anger and sadness bubbling up inside of him and boiling over in the form of tears. 

"You don't understand," he didn't think he had ever felt so disgusting. Sure, he had endured countless nights of sobbing and drinking himself to sleep, but never had he felt so pathetic, so hopeless, so useless. He couldn't even look at her, he was too embarrassed. Here he was, a thirty year old man, crying his eyes out in front of the woman of his dreams. If she didn't already pity him and find him pathetic, she would now, seeing him in this state. 

Not being able to form words, Shane buried his face in the sleeves of his hoodie. He wished he could just disappear, or at least pretend that they had never met. Maybe his life would still suck, but at least he wouldn't have to torment himself over her.

She didn't know if she should touch him, but she did anyway, gently placing a hand on his back and rubbing in careful, soothing motions. Elfie realized that she had never seen Shane cry in the months that she had known him. He was always so calm, if not standoffish, never emotional like this. Then again, somehow she had never been around him when he was drunk either. She wanted to kiss his tears away.

Shane flinched away at her touch, "Don't pity me! Please, please don't fucking pity me," he pushed her away, attempting to push himself up to stand despite how liquid his whole body felt. Somehow he managed without slipping off of the dock, "I'm sorry. I just…I need to go. I'm sorry," He was still crying as he turned from her, his whole body shaking and feeling like it would fall apart at any second.

"Shane!" Elfie was quick to stand and follow him, not that it was very hard to catch up to a drunk man. She had reached out to grab him by the arm before realizing it would be a bad idea, so she kept it to herself, "Shane, please. You're right, I don't understand. Please tell me." 

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the depression, maybe the months of never knowing if his feelings were reciprocated and never knowing where he stood with her. Probably a mix of everything as Shane couldn't stop himself from shaking and his tears just kept coming. Thick streams of liquid poured down his cheeks and dripped onto his already stained hoodie. He was so sad, so angry. Angry at himself, at her, at the universe. They had such a good thing going for all these months, why did he have to overthink things and make a mess out of himself like he always did?

He was still standing away from her, not daring to look into her eyes out of fear of completely breaking down. His chest felt so painfully tight, like it would just combust if he breathed the wrong way. His own arms came up to cradle himself in a last ditch effort to provide any kind of comfort to his aching body. He wished so badly that they were her arms instead. 

"I…" He took a shuddering breath as he tried to calm himself enough to talk. His voice was shaking, "What are we, Elfie? Why do you waste your time with me?" He hiccupped out another soft sob, "I'm nothing. I'm fucking nothing to you. You're so beautiful…" Shane felt fresh, hot tears wet his face once more. God, he was so drunk right now. He felt like he was going to pass out, "If you don’t want something serious, or you just want sex, then fine, but just tell me now so I can get over you."

Elfie had never fought the urge to hug anyone so hard before. Not out of pity like Shane was so convinced of, but out of genuine care. Even if their relationship was a mystery, they were at least friends and Elfie wanted more than anything to take care of her friend right now. Even if she was the reason he was in pain in the first place.

She cautiously took a few steps towards him, her voice soft and laden with concern, "I do care about you, Shane," She tried to choose her words carefully, knowing he wasn’t in a right state of mind, "I thought…I thought I was showing you that," her hands twisted anxiously behind her back. She was never very good at communicating her emotions, much preferring them to shine through her actions, "I liked you, so…When you came over that night…and we kissed…I thought…" she trailed off slightly, hoping she was making sense, "I thought this was how it was supposed to work. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" She was fighting back her own tears now, her eyes blinking rapidly to try and ward them off. 

She had never intended to hurt him, she would never want to. She was inexperienced, still young for her species, and still trying to figure out what it was that she even wanted. When she had moved into that dilapidated farm and met the townspeople, met Shane, she was happy. She thought she made him happy too.

Shane felt his anger start to bubble again, quickly coming to a boil and spilling over the top, "Did you hurt me? Of course you hurt me! Why else would I be here crying my eyes out and looking like a fucking idiot!" He didn't mean to raise his voice at her, he didn't mean to, but he couldn't contain his emotions as easily as he could when he was sober. He couldn't even think straight, his head now pounding and his entire body shaking against his will. Why was he so worked up? Why was he even hopeful in the first place that maybe, just maybe, something good would actually happen in his miserable life?

"Do you want me to leave?" She didn't fight the tears starting to shimmer in her eyes. Her voice was unusually quiet and small. She didn't know what else to say. What could she say? She liked Shane, she liked all the humans around this small town, she never wanted to cause any harm or hurt anyone. Was she just stupid? Sometimes she felt that way, not picking up on their emotions and not knowing what the right thing to say was. She cared so much, yet never knew if she was doing enough.

Finally turning around to face her at the question, all of Shane's anger melted away and instead was replaced with a sting of guilt shooting right through his already aching chest. She looked so sad, so pleading. Like she was genuinely remorseful, like she genuinely didn't understand what she was doing. Shane had seen her cry before, but only over such small things. Like the time she had caught a frog outside in the rain, and she had hurried inside to show him. She acted like he hadn't seen a frog before, but she was so excited to open up her cupped hands and exclaim about it to him. She had been crying then (Shane! Look how small it is!), but out of pure joy. Now…she stood there, sniffling with tears rolling down her cheeks. Shane noted how she was still so, so beautiful even in her sadness.

"Elfie I…" He ran an anxious hand through his already messy hair, cautiously taking a step toward her. He was staring at the ground, the sight of her crying because of him was too much to bear, "I'm sorry. I'm drunk, I can't…" He squeezed his stinging eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to just lay down. He needed the biggest nap of his life right now, "I can't…Think. I'm sorry."

She could see him now, as he faced her. His handsome face now stained with tears and his eyes puffy. Had she done this to him? Had he been hurting this bad for so long, and she hadn't even known?

"Can I please hug you, Shane?" 

She didn't get a verbal response, Shane simply closing the space between them in a heartbeat. As quickly as she had asked, he was already there, his face pressed against her chest and his shaking arms wrapping themselves around her waist in an embrace. She returned it, holding him tight against her and leaning down a little to nuzzle her face in his dark hair.

He felt so safe in her arms. All of his sadness, his tiredness, his anger, melting away at her embrace. She was so warm and soft and wonderful, like nothing bad could ever happen to him as long as he was wrapped tight in her arms. 

"It's okay. I have you," Her words came out in a sweet whisper, one of her hands trailing up his back and up into his hair to stroke at it softly. He shivered at her touch, starting to cry again. How could she be so sweet, after he had just yelled at her for doing nothing wrong? He had made her cry, and yet here she was, comforting and cradling him like he even deserved an ounce of her kindness. Sometimes she seemed like Shane’s only saving grace. An angel fallen to Earth, bestowing upon him her unconditional compassion.

"Please don't leave. I don't want you to leave me. I love…" Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it you drunk fucking idiot, "I love…being around you," Shane hiccupped softly against her, whining as he struggled to form words. He had never felt more pathetic, but somehow he was at ease as she held him. Maybe he was just too tired at this point to care.

She shushed him, sensing how much he was struggling with his words. If she hadn't been holding him, he probably would have collapsed to the ground in front of her.

"We…we're so different. How are we going to make this work?" Shane sobbed, his fingers digging into the small of her back, "Do you want to make this work…?" His voice cracked, his tone pleading with her. Please, please don't leave me after this, he rattled off in his head, I'm sorry.

She didn't feel like she could answer at the moment, not even knowing how she felt. She liked him, she knew that, but he was right. They were so different, they were different species, sometimes they didn't even understand each other. But she wanted to try, if only to make up for how she had made him feel.

Elfie placed a soft kiss to his forehead, keeping her lips there as she spoke, "You need to lay down…do you want me to take you to the farm?" Her voice was even lower than a whisper, as if her sweet, soft words were a secret for Shane's ears only.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah," He let out a shaky sigh, "Thank you…" He wished he could stop crying, but her never ending kindness just overwhelmed him over and over again. She was such a good person, even if she didn't always understand the people around her. Shane envied her for that.

"Okay. Take my hand, come on," With that, they finally untangled from each other and interlocked their fingers as she led him up the path to her humble cabin. Shane tried his best not to stumble, but it was so difficult when his legs felt like they were made of jelly. It didn't help that his heart was still beating out of his chest as they held hands the whole way. He was sure they had held hands before, but this time felt…different. It felt so genuine, and he never wanted to let go.

Finally making it, Shane attempted to stumble up the three little steps before reaching her door. Elfie kept a hand against his back the whole time, stabilizing him and making sure he didn't fall. He practically collapsed into her bed, the familiar softness bringing him comfort as he finally felt his body relax. He couldn't stop a heavy sigh as he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, the exhale making his chest feel less tight.

A sudden dip in the spot next to him caused him to lazily open his eyes back up, only half lidded now. She had sat next to him, her hand back in his disheveled hair and her nails lightly scratching at his scalp. It felt so heavenly, her hands always did. He made a small noise of approval as he looked up at her. She smiled as they made eye contact, her thumb stroking across his forehead in a loving gesture.

"I'm…" He let out another shuddering breath, trying to still his shaking body, "I'm sorry that you had to see me like this. I…" he squeezed his eyes shut so he could focus on talking, "I tried for so long to not drink in front of you…I don't want you to be scared…" 

"Shh. It's okay, Shane," She cooed at him, "I'm not scared. I could never be scared of you," She flashed her teeth as she chuckled, "You just need to rest, okay?" Suddenly she was getting up from the bed, much to Shane's disappointment, but quickly surprised him again as she walked to the end of the bed and started to untie the laces on his sneakers. 

"Let me get these off for you so you can sleep, okay?" Shane stared at her as she removed his shoes, then quickly removed her own boots and dropped them to the floor with a heavy thud. His heart was beating fast again.

"Why…Why are you being so nice to me, Elfie?" He was looking up at her again as she seated herself next to him once more. The gesture was still replaying in his head. He couldn't remember ever being taken care of like this, "I yelled at you…I…" I'm not worthy, he thought, "I'm an asshole."

Her smile was always so cute, so charmingly sweet, like she had never been mad at anyone in her life.

"Sometimes…" She teased. She remembered when they first met and he had been so rude as she introduced herself. It never deterred her, only making her more ambitious to befriend him. Maybe that did make her stupid, but she guessed it had all worked out in the end, "But…we're friends, right? And…friends take care of each other. So that's what I'm doing. Now, move over."

Struggling to move over, Shane gave her ample room to slide in next to him. They were facing each other now, able to look into each other's eyes with how close they were.

"Is this okay?" Elfie brought a hand up to cup Shane's tear stained face, rubbing a thumb gently over his cheek, then across his lips, "Can I kiss you?"

A smile finally cracked its way onto Shane's face, quickly twitching into a full on laugh at her question. A sleeve of his hoodie coming up to hide his face, trying not to offend her.

"What?" Her pointed ears twitched, her smile fading from her face as she looked at him confused, "Why are you laughing?" Did I say something wrong? 

"I'm sorry, I just…You don’t need permission to kiss me," He hadn't meant to laugh at her, but the question was just so absurd to him, considering how physical their relationship had been up to that point. He welcomed the laugh though, at least he wasn't feeling completely miserable now, “Elfie, we’ve…done a lot worse than that.”

"Well…!" She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, a toothy grin spreading across her face, "You…You said you wanted me to treat you real, so…I was thinking about your feelings!" She was mirroring his laughing now too, "So is that a yes…? I really want to kiss you."

"Y-Yeah. Please…" he gave a short huff through his nose as his laughing died down and her lips connected with his. He eagerly welcomed it, his eyes closing again as he leaned into her touch. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her in against him so that their bodies were flush with each other. He never wanted to let her go.

"Mm…" She sighed happily, smiling against the familiar feel of his lips against her own. She was purring, the noise startling Shane a little before he realized what it was. He didn't think he would ever get used to the fact that she could even do that. 

She was the one to finally pull away, still stroking her thumb against his cheek as she spoke, "Do you want to…talk? Um, about us, I guess. That's what you wanted, right?" She was trying to choose her words carefully as they looked at each other, anxiety now making a home in her own chest. She wasn't good with serious conversations. She had no idea where to even start.

Shane dipped his fingers underneath her shirt, just to touch her hip, just to feel her warm skin underneath his touch, "Yeah, I want to. I just…" His head was still spinning, but he seemed much more relaxed than before, "I'm drunk, babe. I can't…I can't right now. Tomorrow…" His voice was soft, sleepy, as his eyes fluttered shut once more. It felt impossible to open them again, his exhaustion overtaking him as he leaned into her.

She was still purring quietly, looking down at his tired face, wanting nothing more than to give him anything he needed.

"Okay. It's a promise," She was whispering again, causing Shane to shiver, "Get some rest, Shane. I'll be right here."

"Thank you…for taking care of me…" He managed to mutter out before dozing off, pressing his face in against her chest as he used it like a pillow. She giggled at that, returning a hand to his hair and petting him as he slumbered.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep, only meaning to ease him to sleep and then get up and do a few chores that she hadn't gotten to that day, but it couldn't be helped. It was already dark outside, and she had such a warm and soft man right next to her, holding onto her so sweetly as he snored quietly. She felt her eyes flutter shut, not even fighting to keep them open as she joined him in his sweet dreams. 

[leftsidebonfire]

WOOOO Its that time again!! Elfie Makes Drinks time!!! Today's choice is a character I (regretfully) will admit that I have a crush on!

Buggy 🎪☠️

Ingredients: Blue Raspberry Lemon Cherry-Lime Cherry Boba Raspberry Swirl

A drink that's sweet and sour at the same time? Sounds about right. It's colorful and flamboyant and while it's certainly sweet, the lemon and lime involved gives it a sour taste as well! Very fitting for the clown of the hour with a testy attitude but we all love. It's really refreshing and good, and I think Buggy would highly enjoy this!!

Requested by: @supernaturallyginger

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Dinner is spent in a similarly contentious spar of words. You're so over it that you find yourself zoning out in favour of your plate. The steak is good. Better than anything you'd spend money on. 

As you chew on a morsel, the server returns and Nick gestures, "another round." 

Before you can stop him, though you can't argue with him either way, you're locked into a fourth cocktail. He keeps doing that thought your third is hardly complaining for it. You can't help but wonder if this is going to be an expense report. 

You swallow and grab your napkin. You dab your lips and shift. The weight in your bladder settles and you nearly squeak. You lean forward and fold the cloth. 

"Er, excuse me, I need... to go to the ladies," you try to make it sound as proper as you can. 

"Mm, pardon," Pine is quick to slide off the bench. "As you will." 

You shimmy over, biting your lip as your insides knot. As you stand, he looms close, and you swear his hand brushes closes against your pants. You don't flinch as you can only focus on the urgency in your pelvis. 

You flee, grateful for more than the relief of your body, but to be free of them for one second. The two men together are the definition of suffocation. You can't keep track if they're having fun or doing battle. Over what, you're uncertain. 

You take your time before you return to the table. You see the men huddled over as you approach, voices low. They're strangely amiable after a night of dueling.

Your drink is waiting on the table. This time, Nick stands to let you in. You skirt by and he sidles in after you. 

"Well, that was a wonderful meal," Pine intones, "are we keen for dessert?" 

As you lean forward to busy yourself with a stir of the slender straw, you feel a tickle on your back, "how about it, Elf? You like sweet stuff?" Nick asks. 

You sit back before you can taste the cocktail and crush his hand. 

"Huh, oh, now, I'm stuffed." You affirm. He doesn't pull his hand away. 

"I am in the mind for it," Jonathan caresses your sleeve and you look at him. "Mm, something warm and soft." 

"Hm?" You make a face and Nick pinches a fold in your pants, giving a tug. "Woah, hey." 

You catch his hand as Pine's flutters along your neck. You lean away from the latter as you wrestle your boss. 

"What the hell are you--" 

"We had a civil discussion when you were occupied," Pine explains  

"We've come to an arrangement," Nick grins as he bats your hand off of his. 

"Um, can you stop?" You latch onto both of their hands, squirming as you try to push them away. "This is not--" 

"Ah, come on, Elf, just a little after work fun..." Nick squeezes your knee  

"I don't--" you're dizzy with confusion and surprise. What the hell were they talking about when you were gone? 

"You've had a bit much to drink, it would be irresponsible for two gentlemen to allow you to go home alone," Pine toys with your fingers, "it isn't safe." 

"Woah, stop," you his as you writhe between them, "I'm fine. I haven't-- I'm barely tipsy." 

"Is that so, darling?" Pine tuts. 

"You know, it isn't very professional to flirt with my professional colleagues," Nick reprimands. 

"No, I didn't--" you choke on your words. Maybe you are a little drunk because you can't see straight. "I... it's a business dinner." 

"It's a formality," Pine insists. 

Heat speckles down your neck and across your shoulders. Pressure constricts your chest and throat as you try to set yourself straight. You can't focus as they keep pawing at you. 

“Form-- hey, okay, buddy!” You barely keep your voice from exploding as Nick’s hand slips between your legs. 

“Buddy? What happened to sir, Elfie?” He teases. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You retort, too addled to think clearly. You know he’s still your boss but he’s not acting like it. 

“It’s Saturday, loosen up. You think I don’t know what you do when you go out with the girls?” he grits. 

Jonathan’s hand wraps around your neck and Nick fights with your own desperate grip. You struggle to keep him from going higher. You glance over, aware that you could have witnesses to this display of animalism. 

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Jonathan purrs. 

“How about--” You clasp onto his wrist, “we don’t? I should go home.” 

“Darling, you’ve been flirting all night and now you want to spoil the fun?” The blond chides. 

“No. Not flirting, I--” 

“Come on, Elf. Don’t you wanna have some fun? All those dull office days? Sitting there, in those pants, bending over...” 

“Jesus,” you hiss and wriggle between them, “what’s-- what’s-- this can’t be real.” 

“Oh, this is very real, darling,” Pine hums into your hair. 

He runs his other hand down your arm and guides your hand back. He places your palm against his lap and you squeak. Nick chuckles and frees himself from your clutches. He pushes his fingers against the front of your pants and winks. 

“Elf, you’re a good girl.” He pushes until you whine, “you always do what you’re told... and you’ll do just that tonight.” 

[tristayranambrosio]

"Flirt/Casualty" Day 1 - February 18 DWC

(This short story is told from the perspective of a former band Mate and how Trist and He met. You know before Trist was all Star-Void-Elfy. Enjoy <3: Note that its a little steamy and about a very tormented Orc who struggled very much with being himself until my Bard stumbled into his life) I nurse the sour ale in my tankard, I despise the flavor and would much prefer the tang of citrus and sweet mixed with some honey wine that I see the softer fellows in this den can be seen enjoying. Not me… no I have to sit and watch as the Crimson Curtain comes to life at the arrival of its star lutist. He is like a feast for my starving eyes, and I imagine if it was his lips I drank from… even this piss-water would taste like bliss. Instead I see him lean over a table and flirt with one of the affluent patrons and my tankard groans in protest under my white knuckled grip. Luckily for me an Orc bitterly suffering through the sorry excuse for a drink and scowling at this brazen display of flamboyant softness isn’t out of place here. In truth I crave the comfort of its magnificent colors, and the beautiful staff… I want to drink their sweet scents, roses and citrus… to bathe in them to bask in the relief it’d be just to live in their embroidered silks, rather than the oppressive Leather plates and spikes the Chief insists I have to wear to attract the attention of some she-orc to bear my sons. I snarl into my tankard and take a long furious gulp and attempt to swallow it with the revolting thought of using some poor female like that… knowing my mind would wander back to the laughing eyes of the Rose scented lead that has started in flirting with a fellow across the bar from me… Seeing how the soft beauty of an elf lightly squeezing the other Mercenary's arm and admiring the build sends my blood on fire and I briefly contemplate making the bastard another casualty of my fuming jealousy… No one else should be allowed to touch my Rose… none of them are good enough… fel neither am I… And yet… I flash back to the bright curtains while he grips them as tightly as I do my tankard. I imagine him screaming my name under my palm as I make him stifle it lest his boss hear what I’m taking from him… I imagine how it’d feel to pull his hair until he was panting and spent just so I could kiss his shoulder and tell him everything. That I’d never wanted someone as badly as I did him… I’d had my share of elven males, loved their tender perfect bodies for the pleasures they were to touch, this one though, he haunted me ever since I heard him sing… play… on Nestor’s old wine stained stage. He laughs again at something the jackass across from me says and I’m out of my Stool and about to storm over and yank my Rose away from this-this-... I halt when the Bard meets my eyes, struck with an overwhelming sense of terror, rage, and desire, with no idea which of those is reflected in my eyes. He’s unafraid, meeting me stare for stare, only in his Light Pink eyes I see… amusement, he’s not intimidated by the growl that I didn’t even realize was escaping me. “Easy, big guy, if you’re looking for a fight I’ll oblige, but Nestor told me you wanted to meet.” He extended a hand smiling… at -me- and I feel my face twist with glee and fury with a focus, that Bastard Busybody Ring-master I will kill him, “I’m Trist’Ayran Ambrosio, a pleasure-”

The way his tongue rolls over the last word has my body at attention and my nostrils flare… my anger at the meddling Cabaret Director temporarily dispelled as I’m being offered a hand I’d imagined on every part of me and I am once again glad that armor and leather doesn’t have much give as a rule and my state isn’t betrayed to be what it was, fixated entirely on this little Rose’s hands… eyes… lips… I grunt and force down my thoughts of how I’d like to hear him speak around parts of me I’ve only ever shared with soft sweet males like him… He waits patiently, his hand held out to what he must see as a brute of few words and even fewer kind ones. I make a show of crossing my arms and sneering at the Cabaret and despite loving every inch of it growl, “Did the Fop? Figures he’d send the Tavern Flirt at me. I’m -not- interested.” My body revolts and rails against my statement, the lie it was… I wasn’t just interested, I was obsessed… I had been for weeks… months… Trist withdrew his hand smoothly as if I’d not just looked at him with the well practiced disdain I leveled all openly true people with, and he smiled, “No one’s twisting your arm, big guy, not that I could… but you play?” I huff and keep my mask on firmly, indifference, disinterest, annoyance… even when within I yearn BURN to feel him -in- my arms… “Drums.”

Trist beams… and my heart slams so hard within my ribs I swear I feel it trying to burst from me into this Bard’s hands, like it was trying to escape, fly to him from the moment I heard his voice, then saw his face… Rose Quartz eyes and the most magnificent Autumn Maple hair that framed his perfect features in waves and curls that smelled like the Roses that haunted my senses ever since. “Well I’d love to see what you’ve got for me, Big Guy, but it’d be nice if you could give me a name… Otherwise you’re just gonna be some generic ‘big guy’ and if you’re joining up… well I’d like to be able to introduce you as you…” Oh what I could show him… what I had for him was a lust so intense it was making my blood power anything but my mind, and again I delayed my reply assailed with the image of showing just what I had for him… and hearing him say my name, “Jezza” My voice is a growl that I hope is intimidating and not giving away where my thoughts had gone… I needed to get a hold of myself… have this damned bard, and then put him from my mind forever. It wasn’t healthy, and if I can’t repress this need… this weakness for him and what he awoke in me, I was never going to be able to face my Tribe. It was not as if I could sire on him… but, Ancestors help me, my body certainly seemed to wanna give that a go with the urge building in me by the moment, not to mention the restless nights that showed my supposed lack of interest or virility with proposed brides was simply a product of them not being this soft bard… Get it over with, get him out of your head… this is not normal. “Jezza.” My breath stopped. My heart seized… say it again… I willed him. “Jezza…” He tasted my name testing the sound on that damnable tongue, “Handsome name for a Handsome Brute.”

He was- “Are you MOCKING me runt?” I nearly roar. “Nah. Just flirting. Lets see what you got.” With that he sauntered up… and tucked a pair of Drumsticks under my belt… and I could swear he did it to glance under the hem of my leathers… but I was too distracted by the proximity… how he somehow smelled even better than I imagined, and how my eyes nearly rolled back in their skull knowing just how close he was to me. It was over too soon. He pulled away and swatted my hip, “You coming?” The bard brandished his lute as he sauntered to the stage tilting his head to the Drum set in the back, but I was almost rooted to the floor. Staring at this brazen… cocky… magnificent -thing- that I was going to -make- mine. I rumble and to myself, “Not yet… but you’ll see to that soon.” I stormed up to the stage all bravado and seething outrage… but I play… and Oh… I bask in the first time my Rose really sees me and feels me in the beat. The novelty will get stale… and my Life will start and I’ll leave all this behind. Maybe after a few more songs. 

@daily-writing-challenge

[lavellane]

please tell us more about your second worldstate!!! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 i'm so intrigued by your ocs and i saw you mentioning playing amell currently

thank u for asking omg !!!! i have 3 worldstates loosely planned out which is a Lot for me since i have a tendency to get deeply (perhaps pathologically) attached to one worldstate and one pc lol. but im being brave abt it !

worldstate 1 is my canon worldstate, and the overarching theme for it is self-mythology/loss of personhood. i wont go into detail since i yap enough abt them already lol but i have elspeth (warrior f!cousland romancing alistair) cillian (a rogue m!hawke romancing anders) and ashara (a mage f!lavellan romancing/redeeming solas) all going into datv head first. my canon datv pc will likely be an elven archer f!rook romancing either davrin or taash hehe <3

second worldstate is all mages and obv thats the main theme i wanna have fun with

lucander amell (he/him, blood mage and spirit healer, romances morrigan) unassuming, distant, and polite and also kind of unnerving. used to being seen as a bad guy and is willing to act accordingly, but otherwise is a pretty decent, honorable man. does morrigan's ritual, kills the archdemon, leaves alistair a grey warden. doesn't become warden commander in awakening bc he goes into hiding from the wardens before they can ask too many questions abt the ritual and why hes still alive. he tracks down morrigan in the hopes of protecting her, and then stays with her and their son after that.

cecilia hawke (she/her, spirit healer mage, romances fenris) a blue!hawke who's sweet and motherly and soft spoken and has an enormous guilt complex/self hate for being a mage lol. carver joins the templars, and she later sides with them in act 3 and kills anders which </3 anyways. she survives here lies the abyss in dai and hopefully goes on to attend biweekly couples therapy with fenris <3

thomasin trevelyan (SOFTEST of launches on that name) (she/her, knight enchanter mage, romances cullen. maybe.) socially adept, politically cunning, with a love for the game and a desire to regain her place within the trevelyan family nobility. sides with the mages, doesn't drink from the well, negotiates a truce between celene/gaspard/briala, pardons the wardens, redeems solas, disbands the inquisition post trespasser. shes a good girl and she's got her head on straight!

might do a qunari f!rook mage to romance taash or davrin for datv! we'll see !

lastly my third worldstate places value on the eluvians so its very elfy or at least elf-adjacent. and also the lineage of ameridan > garahel > maherial and so on. i just think its neat . still VERY much underdeveloped tho so no names yet

f!mahariel, she/her, an archer who romances leliana (prev tamlen :c) who dies killing the archdemon

half elven f!hawke mage, romancing merrill!! she sides with the mages but probably still kills anders :( shaking my head in disgust so u can tell i do not approve of this choice ..........

an m!trevelyan warrior romancing ?????????????? IDK. cass maybe. this is going to be exclusively a 'piss off solas' speedrun so hes siding with the templars, putting gaspard on the throne, doing war crimes, etc. wont be redeeming him i fear </3

i hate to say it. i HATE to say it. but if there's a way for me to make a solasmancing rook for datv i Will find a way in this worldstate for the comedic effect of antagonizing my m!trev. even if its just thru headcanons exclusively lol

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

Happy STS Ceph! If someone was looking for your characters, how would they describe them to people? What features would they most pick out to distinguish them from a crowd?

Isaac: His messy black curls are probably the best way to spot him. Not messy as in stylish bedhead, but as in oh, this man is on the brink and desperately needs help with self-care. (It's not until Dorian coaxes him into it that his hair starts to become noticeably healthier and eye-catching for other reasons.) Elfy describes his fashion sense best: Mexican grandpa and/or country veterinarian. That is, flannel/plaid shirts (buttoned all the way to the collar in Isaac's case), and old jeans that don't fit him well at all. Again, it's not until Isaac starts rebuilding and maintaining relationships with others that this changes. 9 out of 10 times you'll catch him with his eyes glued to the screen of his tab, doing something work-related.

Renato: If you meet a man who makes you forget every warning your common sense screams at you, you'll know you met Renato Faria Dimas. Of course the blue-green color of his eyes gets the most attention. Though he acts like this is tiresome, he goes through a lot of effort to groom his brows and hair as well as pick clothing colors to show them to their best advantage. He's a dating sim character come to life: handsome, charming, seductive, and definitely hiding more than meets the eye beneath the pretty façade. Dimples are another weapon in his arsenal he uses to devastating effect.

Dorian: Critics rave 5 stars, want to hug and/or cuddle with them on first meeting. Dorian exudes a love for life and the topics they're passionate about which is downright infectious. Their peacoat is legendary, though they do wear other hoodies and sweaters depending on the season and conditions. They've loved having their hair braided since they were very small, and continue to make an event of it as an adult, with food and movies and drinks with family and friends all day. They also really like the freckles across their face and shoulders, if you're one of the fortunate few to see those. You may have to wade through a sea of their other admirers to get to them.

Kinslayer: Isaac wasn't exaggerating when he described meeting their gaze as staring down the barrel of a rifle. Their eyes are an utter shade of black, reflecting no light whatsoever. Kinslayer has worn many faces and experienced life in all sorts of bodies, but this feature remains a common denominator no matter what they look like.

Elfy: She's the tiny woman with all the piercings, the mop of reddish-brown curls piled on her head, and who's vibrating like a rocket about to take off, unable to keep still. Can't miss her.

Ben: They just don't make 'em like this nowadays. He looks like a thug or back alley boxer from a movie set during the Great Depression because, well, that's kinda what he was. His size, the broken-one-too-many-times nose, and scarred knuckles give him a natural intimidation factor. He's quick to smile though, and the gleam in his brown eyes can turn someone's knees from a solid to a liquid even quicker. You know, if big, bi vampire guys are your thing anyway.

Motley/Noose: Its stitched together skin really makes it stand out in a crowd. Even its sunken eyes are unusual amongst necromancers, smoldering with a sullen red light rather than being the dull, lifeless gray of something that's been preserved in a jar of alcohol. Of course, it could very well be disguised as that stray dog trotting down the street. Or a white-faced barn owl in the tree outside the window. Or--goodness forbid--somebody you knew.

Breezy: One of the three weed-smoking girlfriends, now semi-retired in her 60s and versed in witchcraft. When she feels like wearing clothes, she could be in full, flowing ren faire garb or a pair of denim overalls for working in her garden. (Has a pretty nice tan, given her nudist tendencies.) She might braid her long white hair, but more often than not leaves it in loose waves over her shoulders.

[starguardianniom]

Asaba Harumasa canon facts

Like I promised here's my post about stuff I learned about Harumasa from Section 6, curtesy of Yanagi, I swear her conversations and trust events are gonna be more about her coworkers than herself and honestly I am fine with that as long as I get more info on Harumasa, and she happily delivered.

For starters, whatever Harumasa drinks is very bitter, Soukaku learned the hard way.

OH MY GOSH!!! That's so troll even for him. HAHAHAHA!!! On the other hand it means Harumasa isn't even 30 years old yet, and if he means it took 3 years off that means he also probably is under 27 years old... Good to know.

Well duh of course she would.

Oh wow, Harumasa took half an hour to calm Soukaku down from his bad joke and had to swear several times that he would live to 3 digits until she calmed down. Dawwww, even he apologizes when going too far and does his best to make it up to Soukaku, such a big brother energy, a trolling one but also he still cares.

Summed up very well by Yanagi. Harumasa is a really good person even if he slacks off and tease people a lot. Though I guess the " but still..." at the end says that she would wish he would stop teasing Soukaku like that probably. But I love my lazy troll regardless. <3

Fact number 2 about Harumasa, he's apparently the only one who can sing well among section 6, so he's the one send when they do karaokés with section 5. No really.

Apparently Section 6 and 5 don't get along too well if Harumasa's joke about them having a bone to pick with them in Virtual Revenge is any indication, and to remedy that their bosses have both sections have karaoké events sometimes. Interesting~

Does that means Miyabi only sings old songs that nobody knows? And Soukaku sings songs from her tribe, nice. Too bad they aren't on the playlists.

Understatement, her singing is horrible, even Elfy wasn't impressed.

You mean you had Harumasa sings at every karaoke events while the rest of you were cheering for him or something, for real? He is probably fed up of being the only reliable person in the group for this kind of thing, makes me wonder if section 5 are good singers. But i would love to hear Harumasa sing. <3

So yeah so far those are little facts about Harumasa from Section 6, to all Harumasa fans out there on this site, I'll keep you updated about info about him, I plan to pull for him and Miyabi. Wish me luck! And now because I can and I will I will do like Harumasa and call Yanagi Tsukishiro from now on only.

I will now make posts about both Billy and Harumasa from now on, you are warned. These boys are everything to me and I'll tell you all about them and dragging you all down with me in their fanclubs. <3

Bonus (feat Miyabi fact) :

Here's what I got when choosing Miyabi's coffee drinking habits:

Dang, that's a terrifying superpower. Miyabi is a monster (affectionate).

Same here.

Ok and?

For realsies?

Don't laugh you broke her. Dang. It's called achievment in ignorance, you can do it as long as you don't know about it, but the moment you learn about it you suddently can't do it anymore.