#Fireside Friendship

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Fireside Friendship [Mando x GN!Reader]

Warnings and Information: No real age rating for this one. This is just good, wholesome fluff where you and Mando go camping between one of his bounties under the guise of "survival training" for Grogu. No real indication on what season of the show. One brief moment of panic on Mando's part when Grogu goes temporarily "missing". Helmet stays on. Campfire games/stories. No description of Reader's gender or looks [If I've slipped up, kindly let me know]. Second person POV. Some swearing.

I haven't watched The Last of Us, but can you spot the nod to it?

Word-count: 3,700

This little one had an amusing proclivity for trouble. For the fifth time in as many minutes, with delighted babbling, the little green child started chasing after another three-eyed amphibian he'd spotted. You found the boy adorable; those big, sweet eyes, and ears that moved with his emotions, the six curious little fingers that demanded to touch every little thing this galaxy had to offer. 

Even things that would make him sick, like this frog with a powerful hallucinogenic compound that it was capable of secreting through its skin as a defensive measure.

That was not something his guardian wanted to deal with or find out of it most effective topically, or worse yet, orally. The gleaming beskar and dark t-visor of the man's helmet whipped around in a blink. He dropped an item back into the supply crate, calling out sharply over the vocoder. "No, Grogu-!" 

While the little one's legs were short, he could be surprisingly fast. You were faster. Swooping him up yet again before he reached the gurgling banks of the little river, you turned a deaf ear to the protestful whines and fussing. "Gotcha, ya little womprat. Stop wandering off, kiddo. And I'm not putting you down. Gonna give him a heart attack." You weren't falling for his pity-me coos anymore.

The exasperated huff of an exhale was probably meant for you this time more so than the other half of Clan Mudhorn. Up until recent days, you were unaware that Clans could be so small.

"What," you tease, guessing that underneath the helmet, you're being given a very pointed glare, "you think I don't hear how worried you get?" Another huff. Softer, this time. His shoulders go slack. 

"You're welcome, by the way." you add, playfully bouncing the little guy in your arms. The action makes him erupt in a peal of giggles and squeals. Gloved fingers now go limp along with the rest of him as he watches the child, "Thank you," his arms reach out now, "I can take him." 

You shake your head softly, holding Grogu gently to your chest, and the little one leans into the gesture. Large eyes peer over in the direction of the beskar-clad figure, a silent plea, or perhaps an effort of persuasion, that Grogu wishes to remain with you a moment longer. "It's okay. I've got him. You can go ahead and take care of what you need. I'll keep Grogu entertained." You promise, carefully dropping onto your butt and tucking your legs under you in a comfortable manner to hold the endlessly curious little lifeform in your arms as long as his guardian needed.

A third huff, but this time, full of gratitude and relief. "Thank you… I guess that would make getting everything ready a lot easier." You nod silently to say of course. You'd been happy to help when he stopped at the local cantina and asked if there was anyone he could hire to take him to a safe but secluded part of the forest on this planet. You'd been happy to give him your name, which he rarely used, strangely, and learn his “nickname” in kind when you asked who was looking to hire you. You'd been happy to meet the "little one" he'd spoken of when he led you back to his ship after the "contract" (just for formality's sake) was completed. You'd been happy to spend these last few days guiding this man and his… son, perhaps, through what was practically your backyard. 

You knew this forest well. All the best spots for trapping and hunting and fishing. The gentlest rivers for soaking your feet to cool off. The gusty clearings that were rife with docile native fauna. So when the drink-slinger who worked the joint day in and day out told him "Your best bet is taking them along. They've lived out here all their life." and this Mandalorian, clad in stoic beskar and a helmet he's never once removed in your presence, didn't need more convincing than that. 

Continuing to gently bounce Grogu in your arms, you look over to the hired gun who hired you for a guide. "May I ask you a question?" He's stacking and unstacking items in the cached supply crate. You wonder what he's looking for, but it's not what you have in mind to ask. "About you." you add.

There's no pause in his work when he answers you. "I suppose."

"Your helmet? Do-"

"I took a Creed." he fires off, all too quickly. In a low breath, Mando as you've been calling him offers an uttered apology. He's a little tired after the day's hike in his armor. He shouldn't have lost his temper with you, it wasn't exactly fair of him. He's sorry. 

"Easy…" you laugh, attempting to placate the surge of his temper, "I figured there's gotta be a reason by now, Mando. It's really none of my business why. I just wanted to know if you ever found it uncomfortable to sleep with your helmet on, or if you've accounted for that with specialized padding."

You believe the question surprises him. That perhaps for once in many a blue moon someone isn't asking him to remove his helmet, or why he wears it. That you acknowledge why he wears it is none of your business. "'Specialized'-?" Mando shakes his head, chuckling softly. It's perhaps the first time he's done so without it being directed at Grogu. "No. Not really. It's something you learn to get used to, in my way of life, after you've sworn the Creed." 

You nod. "Fair enough. May I ask another?" He simply nods this time, turning back to the crate. "Just what are you doing in the cache? You've been sorting it out since we got here." 

His search halts when he finds three ration packs to bring back to the future fireside. "Trying to find what's freshest for us to eat."

"Oh, that's kind of you, but you don't have to worry about freshness too much," you chuckle, "it'll all be less than a standard month old. I stock these caches myself. They're for anyone to use. Hunters, fishers… people who just want to go camping. Even mercenaries. I've been doing this for a long time." you say with a little gesture of your hand, indicating the pines and the cache and the fire pit you've dug. 

His head and the helmet with it tilts softly to the left. "Is there anything you don't do? You agree to help strangers, hike three days out into a remote forest, and have helped me show Grogu how to survive. Or, try to." Grogu breaks into a gurgle-y laugh at the mention of his name, little hands straining hard to reach over to Mando. "He… might have been too young for this after all. Grogu probably sees this as some sort of fun camping trip."

It's the most Mando's spoken in a while. He's more a man of action than words, you suppose. You're okay with that. "Well… Leave the planet, I guess. I've been here my whole life. The Empire doesn't care to come here, either." Mando just nods to show he understands as he joins you on the forest floor, Grogu now settled in his lap. 

You're okay with the fact he mostly communicates through nods, shakes, expressive hand gestures or single-shouldered shrugs. Perhaps he doesn't interact with others regularly, not like this. It's your understanding that Mando is a bounty hunter; you've just never heard of one that traveled with a child. That's not exactly a profession one takes with the intention to make friends in mind. But he was polite, courteous, and civil; at least, if Mando didn't see you as a threat to himself or Grogu. 

You'd seen how fast he whipped the IB-94 blaster from the holster at the first whiff of perceived trouble. Someone had been snooping around his ship, eyeing the landing struts. Mando transformed into a whole new person before your eyes.

Cold. Calculated. Dangerous. The soft voice under the vocoder was now a sharpened knife, the chilling threat of an experienced mercenary. 

"Back off. That's my ship." Mando had frozen up when you planted your palm on top of the '94 and directed the business end to the dusty landing strip. 

"Hey-hey, that's just Maj. Maj knows his way around a fair number of ships since he spent a lot of time on Tatooine in one of the trade ports; he's only seeing if you need repairs." 

The weapon was holstered just as smoothly as it had been unholstered, but the act of returning it was slower than the retrieval. "... Apologies. Does Maj speak Huttese? There is one repair I would allow him to make." 

"He does, yes." 

By the time you, Mando and Grogu would make it back to the place you called home, the cantina and shipyards, Maj would have the starship fit for flying. Fit for the next bounty, wherever it would be for this gun for hire. That'd be another two days, if you really took your time to hike out of these woods. Or, if you had to constantly mind Grogu, making sure he didn't wander off in search of tasty goodies every three minutes. 

The little lifeform's appetite seemed bottomless. You'd never seen such a species before, so you couldn't tell if this tiny thing was always this voracious, or if he was entering some kind of growth spurt soon. Curiously, Mando didn't know either. 

"I don't know what his species is. He was… originally a bounty. A job. But I got attached. So I took him back." was all Mando had to say on that particular matter. It left you to speculate as you got the fire started, and Mando cautiously let Grogu clamber from his lap and gingerly toddle about. 

Back, hm? Wonder what exactly that entailed. 

But really, it wasn't any of your business. He clearly cared for Grogu, glancing at the little one every few seconds with a minute movement as he shuffled through the sparse grass of the clearing this river cuts through. 

"Do you need more tinder?" Mando offered between glances at the child, watching you feed the growing flame with measured breaths after you had announced you wanted to get the fire going before nightfall. 

"This is plenty." you assured him. Through the dark, impassable visor, you could tell Mando was watching the movement of your hands, the clues of confidence in your craft as you fanned the flames higher. "There. Should be able to get some water from the river and boil it for the rations, now."

"Boil water?" 

"Yes," you replied, "you grabbed stew rations on purpose, right?" 

The sharp twitch of his head read as surprise. His voice was full of pauses. "I wasn't aware that's what these were. Are they… any good?" 

You offered a smile and a shrug. "It's food. It'll fill your belly. It'll keep you warm. That's the only thing I could hope for out here, if my situation was dire." you answered truthfully. "Thankfully, it's not. The stew has a nice, savory flavor to it. The little one might like it." Glancing around, you note that Grogu has wandered off, away from the radius of light that breaks up the deepening shadows while the sun slinks below the horizon. He's now by the river again where the grass is much taller, fuller.

Mando, however, does not immediately see the child. "Grogu? … Dank farrik, I should have kept an eye on him. Grogu? Grogu!" 

Pausing in his play, Grogu answers with a soft Wah? while his hands are in water up to the wrist, previously splashing around. The sleeves of his tan clothing are sopping wet. 

You're beginning to wonder how much visibility that visor affords Mando. Or if he's just so panicked he's not thinking clearly. "Where is he?" You lay a steady hand on a beskar-plated knee as you get up and dust down the seat of your pants and your own knees. With an assuring smile, you call over to Grogu that he needs to stay put. Turning back to Mando, you say, "I kept an eye on Grogu, he's by the river. I'll get him and some water to boil." 

For a brief moment, you wish you could see the relief, the realization that Grogu is safe, across every feature of his face. But the helmet stays on. And the helmet will stay on even when it comes time to eat.

"How's your stew?" Your head is turned like you would call over your shoulder, but you look out straight ahead into a living sea of bark and twig and leaf. There are soft spots of dancing, pulsating light off in the distance. 

Fireflies. 

Such a fascinating spectacle. What a shame their numbers are in decline… Rumors about some kind of great sickness wiping them out, slowly, surrounds them. All very strange and confusing. 

Much like the man you currently have your back to so he could eat in relative comfort. The most you'd seen of the man beneath the beskar was the lower jaw, which had afforded you a few clues. Facial hair. A tanned complexion. From there, you could probably deduce a few more physical characteristics. Likely dark, curled hair, if he had it. Brown eyes, maybe hazel. 

"Decent." Mando offers after speaking in a soft voice to Grogu. He speaks little with the helmet on. Even less when he has it inched high enough to eat and sip from the ration pouch by tipping the end just high enough to let gravity assist him. "Grogu likes it." 

"Oh good." you return to staring straight ahead, out into trees at the edge of the clearing. You'd seen something creeping slowly in the distance while the water had boiled, something large and stocky and hooved. 

"What is that?" 

"Not a threat. It's docile. The most dangerous thing in this forest is you, me, and the youngest member of Clan Mudhorn." You'd teased. 

That's when you learned that Grogu was fifty. It was Mando who was the youngest, technically speaking. 

Mando calls your name softly. "What's so funny?" 

"Oh, just… Grogu being fifty. Again." 

Mando sighs sharply and repeats your name with a disapproving tone. You get the sense he's not truly upset or annoyed with you for giggling to yourself for the sixth time, but more surprised. In his own way. Much like he'd been about the helmet. Surprised by how… refreshing it felt to simply have his answer taken as it was. No follow-up questions. No insistent reassurance that he could simply just break his Creed and shed his helmet, his anonymity, the face that was perhaps safest to show the galaxy. 

Nothing other than acknowledging that you have no entitlement to picking apart the minutiae of him. His helmet. His identity. It spoke of your character. He appreciated that about you. 

He speaks your name again. But this time, it's part of a renewed introduction. "My name is Din Djarin." 

"Din Djarin…" you repeat, testing the name on your tongue, and you find it makes you smile as you release that last syllable, "it has been a very nice, but long three days getting to know you, even if I couldn't help you with Grogu's survival training." There's a hand on your shoulder, the cue that you're welcome to turn around now; he's reset the helmet on his head, and now he's ready to repeat the process of the last few nights by the fire. 

Silly little stories. Childish little games. Simple things to pass the time until the siren song of sleep was too much for the little one's eyelids to bear, and he would fall asleep in someone's lap. The first night Grogu had drifted off in Mando's arm, little nose touching the cool metal of the breastplate. The second, Grogu had come to you, mumbling and drooling over your shoulder as you held him while listening to the story behind their clan signet. Who he would choose tonight remained to be seen. 

"What would you like to do?" you ask, tucking your feet comfortably under you. Realistically, only so many campfire games worked with just two people who were old enough and capable of talking, and only one of them with a visible face. And the sort of tall tales and oral retellings typically told over flame tended to take on a moodier, unsettling tone. Scary stories would only serve to make Grogu sleepless and antsy. 

"We could play a question game." Mando suggests, hands swinging out to his left and his right as he shrugs. Like he's showing you he's unarmed. "Easy enough to abandon. Simply just… talk." 

"Good idea, uh… Could I call you Din? Would you be alright with that? Feels a little strange to keep calling you "Mando" now that you shared your name with me." 

"I suppose." Din answers with your name, and you can hear the change in his voice that happens when you believe he's smiling. "You first." 

You ponder on what you'll ask him first. Nothing intrusive. Nothing too prying. Your goal is to ask questions that are just innocuous, innocent, and general. "Do you have a favorite color, Din?" It's such an easy, throw-away sort of question, that it surprises you when he takes a minute to mull it over. 

"I'm not sure. Just one color?" 

"Okay," you concede, "you're welcome to go with more than one if you'd like." 

Din's fingers fold over one another, hands tucking under the chin. "Does chrome count as a color? I'm kidding-!" he says before you would have the chance to say anything, "Maybe it's easy to guess why I'd say green. And red; but not the Empire's red. What're yours?" You don't have to spend quite as long nibbling your bottom lip in thought. You tell him it's the color that makes up most of your wardrobe, and the color you painted your bedroom walls in, or wished that you could. Something about the color made you feel good inside. Made you smile. 

A memory from a long time ago with a very important, special person in your life was connected to it, too.

It was Din's turn to ask the question before you were to answer, and then turn it back to him so he could answer it himself; that's how this game worked. "If you knew you had all the credits, fuel and supplies to get you there, no matter how far away it is from here, what planet would you go visit?" 

Wow. You weren't sure. "Just enough to get me there? Or would I have enough to get there, and also then come back to this planet?"

"You'd also have enough to come back here, if that's what you wanted, yes." Din assured you. "Your home planet clearly means a lot to you."

Boy, did it ever. The prospect of never returning, the mere idea, wasn't something you'd ever thought of much. Yes, you want to go explore some part of the galaxy, maybe some distant day, but it's just not on the table for you, currently. 

"Well… maybe some place with something new to experience. Like, um… what's a planet without forests?" Din listed off a few planets and their respective sectors from memory, some you'd heard, others you hadn't. "Maybe I'd visit one of those first. What about you; where would you go?" 

Din hesitated to answer, hands dropping from his helmeted face. "Maybe Aq Vetina. Or Concordia, if I knew for certain either were safe. Definitely somewhere we," he gestures to Grogu (who's been tossing little sticks into the fire under your supervision) and himself, "would be safe from the Empire." 

"Fair enough. I don't like them either. Nosy Imps…" Taking a breath to collect and steady yourself, you shake off the thought of Imperials and their stifling regulations and their banthashit before you return to the game that doesn't really feel like a game. It feels more like you're building a better friendship with this Mandalorian decked out in beskar and packing heat. 

The weapons were a factor of his religion, evidently. That one had been harder to wrap your head around, admittedly, since you had been paid to take him out to a very safe forest with little need for protection against the animals that made their home within it. You really weren't concerned about the other people you might encounter, either. It was spawning season for many of the fish, and fishermen didn't really arm themselves with a slug-thrower or blaster. Just knives, if anything. 

It was now your turn to ask the question both of you would answer. You were struggling to think of anything else but the following: "Do you… have many friends, Din? Or, any?" 

Din answers this one quickly. "It's a short list." 

"Oh yeah? How short?" Both of you don't know it yet, but this is the point your game ends. It's just chatting from here on out until Grogu has decided that he wants to sleep, growing bored enough of you and Din talking about things that don't interest him and not being allowed to wander away from the fire anymore to continue splashing in the river.

Din puts down a number of fingers, holding up both hands deliberately to make certain the number sinks in. 

"That short. Well, I'm not that surprised. Bounty hunters don't exactly make more friends than rivals." you say with a chuckle. "Kinda… sad, in my opinion. You seem like too nice a person for the profession; I think you deserve more friends,  Din Djarin." 

Another gloved finger curls into his palm. 

And with that lilt in his voice as he talks through the vocoder that suggests he's smiling, Din says your name before he speaks seven simple words that warm you to your core more than the fire that sits in the middle-space between each of you.

Words that make you feel just as honored as being the one Grogu decides to fall asleep with.

"Then let's add you to the list."

[Masterlist] [Mando Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[for-merlin]

The absolute recognition between the hidden greats

(combined and modified the amazing gifs by @dont-let-me-eat-pears)

[chillinglikeashilling]

I do appreciate the fire side chat clarifying the actual stakes and damages of the last episode. I think Ame is probably going to have issues accessing the Citadel or her contacts there-in going forward.

Especially because Suvi, regardless of whether they make up or not, is probably never going to give Ame the same access to her (i.e. The Citadel's) resources as she had this arc. Which I think makes sense for a consequence in a long term campaign.

Part of what Ame needs to work on most is her ability to make her own allies and navigate social situations where she is not acting as the Witch of Toma but is instead The Witch of the World's Heart with all of the relative status, hierarchy and real politik implied by that.

Suvi has for various reasons been doing a lot of that for the Party as a whole and I think it'll be noticeable how much that is a weakness of Ame's almost immediately once we get to the Notth Pole.

In a weird way despite the class privilege - it feels like Suvi is just more aware of (or maybe just more affected by) human consequences than Ame is. Even thinking back to her first interaction as an adult in the campaign - the consequences Ame imposed on that asshole were incredibly Witchy.

I have seen a possibility (through magic) that this man may cheat and so I have given him a ring that will punish him magically if he does that.

It's a fun choice but not one that actually requires her to deal with the emotional fall out of any of that. A more direct/ but less Witchy thing would have been to warn that girl from her village her husband might cheat on her so she could decide if she still wanted to have a baby with him.

When Suvi is involved she does not get to have that distance- the person she killed was killed with her own hands. When those guards died on the wall she was right beside them trying to draw Orima's stranglers away. Now she's also the Citadel's no. 1 nepo baby but I think it's easier for us as an audience to parse that on sight rather than what's happening with Ame.

[arabella-strange]

bonus: this just weeks after Lou Wilson “Martha Cocoa” slipped on the Worlds Beyond Number Fireside Chat #6 and said mid-anecdote, “my Brennan, aka [first] DM... My Brennan at the time—” and Brennan himself went to goo? the cutest little kid goodness

I love Emily so much

“Do you have little rulers like Brennan does?” Gives the same energy as being a kid at your friend’s house and asking if they have the same fruit gushers you got at home

[writergracethepanda]

Reasons why Night of the Living Pharmacists is the best P&F special:

Phinabella content and Isabella just genuinely being a badass

Isabella. Just literally everything she does in this special is perfect and iconic and girl boss.

Candace and Vanessa’s friendship

Doof being a fantastic dad as usual

Buford just being iconic (him panicking at the house/I JUST LOST MY NERD IM NOT GOING TO LOSE THE REST OF MY FRIENDS TOO/i am soooo in love with her rn

The fireside girls (Gretchen especially my queen)

Triangulation/jump right to it

The lots of me remix

The giant floating baby head getting doofified

“I like to tinker* that’s a silly way to tell your daughter’s friend’s little brother ur an evil scientist

The Perry and doof BROmance

again phinebella

Doof and Buford screaming yippee kayay and running around as bait after the people closest to them get doofified (Baljeet, Perry, and Vanessa)

Episodes where the kids interact with Doof are always superior

STACY’S ENTIRE FUCKING PLOTLINE IT WAS SO SO GOOD AND SO FUNNY SHE WAS THE FINAL PERSON NOT DOOFIFIED AND SHE DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT

Edit: I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT DOOF’S CALLBACKS TO BUFORDS STUFF IN YOUR FACE LOGIC

[inubaki]

Touched by an Angel

-chapter 1

Adam was raised in the confines of a church-run compound, a peculiar community where the walls echoed with prayers and hymns. His childhood unfolded amidst a tapestry of rituals and routines, where every day was marked by the rhythm of faith. Despite the serene environment, Adam often felt the weight of solitude, as he had few friends beyond the church's boundaries. 

The friendships he cultivated were deep and heartfelt; those who knew him cherished his easygoing nature and infectious laughter. They often marveled at his ability to find joy in simple moments, whether it was playing in the sun-drenched gardens or sharing stories by candlelight during evening gatherings. 

His journey began long before he could form memories—left on the steps of the church as an infant, he became the responsibility of the current Priest, a well-meaning but somewhat forgetful figure. The Priest had his quirks: he often mislaid his glasses or forgot the names of the parishioners. Yet, beneath his absent-minded demeanor lay a genuine warmth. He took Adam in without hesitation, treating him like a son despite his own shortcomings in parenting.

Adam grew up enveloped in a cocoon of care, the kind that radiated from the Priest’s heart, even if it sometimes lacked the precision and presence a child might crave. He may not have had the traditional family support system, but the kindness and affection he received filled his life with a sense of belonging. He never doubted his worth or the love surrounding him; in his eyes, he was cherished, a vibrant spirit thriving within a nurturing, albeit imperfect, home.

At the age of thirteen, Adam received the unexpected news that would alter the course of his life: he was to be trained to take over the church and ultimately become a priest. The weight of this announcement settled heavily on his young shoulders. In truth, Adam had never harbored any desire to don the robes of a priest. Instead, he often found joy in simpler pursuits—spending his afternoons spinning enchanting tales for the neighborhood children or tending to the vibrant community garden, nurturing the fruits and flowers with his own hands.

However, Mr. Brown, the aging priest and a father figure in Adam's life, had other plans for him. Mr. Brown believed firmly that Adam possessed a calling destined for the spiritual realm, a belief that brought pressure akin to a heavy cloak draped over the boy. Adam felt trapped, caught in a web of expectation, unable to voice his true desires. But, he would do it for Mr. Brown.

At the age of seventeen, Adam found that his priesthood was being approached with a gravity he hadn’t fully appreciated before. The days of leisurely gardening, spinning tales by the fireside, or experimenting with flavors in the kitchen were long gone. Instead, he was now expected to immerse himself in the study of the Word of God, diligently deciphering its complexities to gain a deeper understanding that would prepare him for the teachings he would one day share with others. 

If Adam were to be honest with himself, he recognized that his efforts were not as earnest as they could be. While he put on a brave front and showed a respectable level of dedication for Mr. Brown, his true enthusiasm for teaching was lacking. The passion that ignited Mr. Brown’s eyes when he spoke of scripture was something Adam admired but did not possess. Despite this inner conflict, Adam had made a commitment at the tender age of thirteen, one that bound him to the path of priesthood. He reflected on that promise often, reminding himself that, regardless of his feelings, he was determined to fulfill his obligation, even if his heart wasn't fully in it.

When Mr. Brown suggested that it might be beneficial for Adam to choose a “Patreon Angel,” someone he could look up to in addition to God, Adam was initially confused. He didn’t grasp that Mr. Brown’s idea was meant to be symbolic and that there wasn’t a requirement to actually set up a Patreon. Instead of delving into a thorough search of the Bible to find an appropriate figure, Adam opted for a quick online search.

As he scrolled through the search results, the first name that caught his eye was “Samael.” The letters seemed to dance before him, and he struggled with the reading process due to his dyslexia. Was it Samael or was it Samuel? The uncertainty gnawed at him. He wished he could find clarity in the text as others seemed to do so effortlessly, but the words blurred together, making comprehension a challenge.

Despite the chaos of letters in his mind, Adam didn’t dwell on the details. He felt a sense of urgency to complete this task, hoping to align himself with an inspirational figure. With a hint of hesitance, he decided to go with “Samuel” as his chosen angel, ready to embrace the connection, even if he hadn't fully understood the significance behind it.

Later that night, the room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of candlelight. Adam carefully arranged the flickering candles on a small table, their wax drippings forming delicate sculptures as they melted away. He sank to his knees on the cool, hardwood floor, his heart racing with a mix of anticipation and hope. In quiet reverence, he clasped his hands together, closing his eyes as he began to pray to the angel Samael—or was it Samuel? A sense of uncertainty nagged at him, and he pondered for a moment if he should invoke both names, just in case he had inadvertently chosen the wrong one.

As he focused intently on his thoughts and intentions, he failed to notice the peculiar behavior of the candles. They flickered and danced erratically as if stirred by an unseen force, and the stillness of the room was marred by an elusive whispering that seemed to echo from the very shadows themselves. Straining to listen, he might have heard faint murmurs mingling with the crackling of the candle flames, but he was too far gone in his own world of prayer to pay any attention to such anomalies.

When Adam finally opened his eyes, his heart sank as he found the room unchanged; the only evidence of his effort was the faint scent of melting wax lingering in the air. He felt a mixture of disappointment and frustration wash over him. So much for that connection he had hoped to forge. Pouting slightly, he gazed at the unresponsive candles, wondering if perhaps he hadn’t put forth enough genuine effort. With a resolute sigh, he decided that he would give it another try the following night, determined to find the clarity he sought before drifting off to sleep.

The angel appeared in Adam's dreams like a whisper of light, illuminating the serene landscape around him. Adam had often wandered through this enchanting Garden in his slumber—a vivid tapestry of colors and fragrances that seemed to bloom just for him. Each flower glowed with an intensity that reflected his innermost yearnings, while the gentle rustle of emerald leaves danced in the soft, warm breeze. He enjoyed the tranquility, completely unaware that he was not alone in this ethereal sanctuary.

As he strolled deeper into the Garden, a peculiar sensation pricked at the edges of his consciousness. It was as if invisible eyes were watching him, observing his every step. He brushed off the feeling until, suddenly, the atmosphere around him shifted. There, among the vibrant foliage and the shimmering petals, appeared the angel. 

This celestial being had an otherworldly presence, elusive and enchanting. Adam found it difficult to focus on any specific detail of the angel's form; it seemed to shimmer and morph as if woven from light itself. Its wings glistened with a celestial glow, creating an aura that captivated the very essence of beauty—a sight far beyond his comprehension. 

Overwhelmed by the angel's majesty, Adam instinctively fell to his knees, the soft earth beneath him a comforting reminder of his mortality. A ripple of laughter echoed through the air, a sound both melodious and slightly mocking. "My, this is an unexpected sort of event," the angel mused, amusement lacing its voice. "You, of all beings, pray to me?" 

Adam's head remained bowed, his heart racing in his chest, blissfully ignorant of the smirk playing upon the "angel's" lips. In that moment, he was engulfed by a blend of reverence and confusion, caught in the web of a dream that would forever alter his understanding of the divine.

"I have prayed to you, oh Samuel, for guidance. I seek your wisdom to be my faithful Patreon." The atmosphere seemed to shift as Adam spoke, his voice filled with earnest desperation. If he had dared to lift his gaze, he would have noticed the mischievous smirk growing on the lips of the figure before him, an entity that resembled an angel but exuded an unsettling presence. The corners of the angel's mouth curled upwards, exposing elongated, sharp teeth that glinted in the dim light. 

"You have?" The angel replied, amusement lacing its tone. "Well, how fortuitous! I currently find myself without any pressing matters." With an air of mock benevolence, it leaned closer, its radiant wings folding elegantly behind it. "I would be delighted to take on the role of your Patreon, guiding and leading you on your path toward Priesthood."

Adam felt a wave of warmth wash over him as he kept his head bowed, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding his heart. The angel's presence was both comforting and thrilling, and he could hardly suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. In a gesture that felt almost tender, the "angel" gently ran its fingers through Adam's hair, a simple act that sent a shiver down his spine, evoking a blissful sigh of contentment. Little did Adam know, the path he was being led toward might be far more complex than he ever imagined.

——

idea and art by me. Story written by @libby-for-life! For an art exchange. I feel I got the better part of the deal knowing how my art is. But I can’t write so I’m very lucky to have them. They’re amazing!

Life has been…harsh. So, this is certainly helping me. I just hope I don’t disappoint them.

next:

[xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx]

Nothing is Trivial

Elrond x nonbinary!reader

Requested: Anonymous

Summary:

TW: Fight scene that describes some injury

Hello sir can i request a elrond x gender neutral reader where he confesses his feelings for them thinking they are a girl but they come out to him as nonbinary (they do share the feelings though) and he's like "i love you anyways" ?

Also i love your writing 💛

Authors Note: Happy Pride Month!! Once again, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I do enjoy that as a trans masc writer I get quite a few requests for LGBTQ+ fics, so keep 'em coming!

As the early evenings sunbeams danced across the valley, the waters of the trickling falls and brooks appeared as though they were teaming with diamonds. As a traveler, you had passed through Rivendell more times than you could count; Yet, those visits had been brief, never exceeding more than a week, despite the assurances of Elrond that you were welcome to stay as long as you liked.

You were fond of the Lord of Imladris - after all, he had proven a faithful friend time and again, was wiser than any scholar or wizard, and always extended some kindness to those residing in or passing through his lands. However, wanderlust had kept you on the road - at least that is what you told yourself and others you encountered - the excitement of seeing new lands, discovering yourself by trying on the lifestyles and customs of those coming from all walks of life. You were still young, believing you would have plenty of time to stay in one place once you had grown old and grey.

While this was not necessarily a lie, you were leaving out a portion of the truth. You avoided any extended stays within the hidden valley because in your heart, you knew you could stay forever, especially if it’s lord simply asked. It made your heart race - feeling as if it was sitting inside your throat, half choking you - to think of what may, or more likely may not, happen should you stay. It was easy to run away from the uncomfortable prospect of life changing (or failing to) after your heart had led you to crawl back to Rivendell between criss-crossing half the continent. That is, until an unexpected ambush resulted in an extended stay within the valley.

--

You passed Weathertop two days ago. Another day's journey and you would be able to spend a few nights resting in Rivendell. It had been well over three years since you had last sought respite in the valley.

While on your travels, you encountered Brunwulf - a kindred spirit. Months of travel and fireside chats with the individual resulted in many realizations, including one acknowledging your gender identity. Brunwulf's friendship was instrumental in becoming comfortable, and later proud, of being non-binary (a term and a concept they introduced, but fit like a glove once explained to you).

You promised yourself that during this short stay in Rivendell you may share the news with Elrond - he was your friend after all, and the time felt right to share this aspect of your life with him. His reaction was sure to be welcoming, you were only friends after all, yet you couldn't push away the building anxiety surrounding the "what if's?" rushing through your mind.

That shall be a problem for the future me, you thought as you lifted your pack onto your back. For now I must actually make it to Rivendell. The day seemed to drag on, the mild morning weather given way to a blistering heat by the early afternoon. The last leg of the journey taking its sweet time now that rest and warm food were finally in sight.

You had nearly passed over the border of Imladris when a sense of dread grew in the pit of your stomach. Your heart rate increased, every hair seemed to stand on end, and you quickened your pace. Nothing is wrong, you are simply worried and weary from travel, you tried to convince yourself. No foul being would dare come this close to-

The hideous echo of an orc horn upon the surrounding hills sent a shiver up your spine. You began running through the sparse pine wood and golden grasses. I only have to make it to the border, I only have to make it to the border, I only have to make it to the border, your mind repeated again and again. It felt as though you were running in a dream: no matter how hard you tried to run, it seemed the distance in front of you only grew greater.

A warg mounted by an orc rider cut across your path. You nearly tripped right into its jaws as you struggled to redirect your momentum. The beasts rider took a swing at you with his foul blade. You narrowly avoided what could have been a fatal blow, ducking and drawing your own dagger. The warg and it's rider were strong and cruel, yet you were cunning and quick, easily able to outwit the pair. Feigning your movement to one side, you dropped and rolled in the other direction, sticking your dagger in the side of the beasts neck while it tried to turn to where you had been a moment ago. With a grunt, you removed the small blade and the warg collapsed. The orc rider muttered something, probably a curse, in Orkish. He dismounted from the warg, and you readied your dagger for the offensive.

It was easy to parry and direct your own attacks at first, but the exhaustion of days spent traveling were creeping up on you. Perhaps your reaction time had delayed, for in an unregistered blink a sharp pain extended across your abdomen. You could feel blood starting to seep from the wound and into your clothing. Pressing one hand to your side to stay the bleeding, you fought on.

Blocking a forceful blow from your opponent sent another shot of pain through you. Your body felt as though it were on fire and the world was spinning. You fell to your knees as another call from the orc horn sounded. The orc gave a guttural laugh. You felt your eyes rolling back as you crumpled to the ground.

The sound of a sweeter second horn, though this one you could not tell if it was real or just a dream.

A steady thunder of riders moving closer.

Nothing but blissful ether.

--

That had occurred over a month ago now. You woke up days later, wrapped in a cozy blanket on a soft, warm bed. Elrond soon visited you. He asked how you were healing and told you of what had happened after you collapsed - how he and his riders fought the orcs, brought you to Imladris, and tended to you himself.

For once, he looked... tired, as though his thousands of years may finally be weighing on him. Surely that must be a projection of your own state, elves rarely displayed such things... right? Regardless, Elrond insisted that you stay until you were fully healed. You agreed given your near-brush-with-death, and were still resolved to have a heart-to-heart with Elrond about your identity. You just had to wait for the right time.

Except, it had been over a month, and still it had never been the right time. This is what led you to wandering the gardens on this particular evening. To continue waiting for the right moment, or to make the right moment, or to just abandon the whole thing completely and wait for some other visit to the valley. You plucked the petals off a flower, going between the three options. You had already gone through this process with two other flowers, unsatisfied with the results both times.

"I wonder what the flowers have ever done to you." A voice that was as warm as a late spring breeze caused you to jump. You jerked your head to the source.

"Sorry," You placed the naked flower down beside you on the bench you had been occupying. "I thought it may help me make a decision, but I guess I just made a mess of your gardens instead." Making room on the bench, you gestured for him to take a seat, "You may join me if you wish."

"They will grow back," He smiled, taking the seat you had offered. "I cannot say I don't blame you. I have also had to make some decisions of late." Elrond's gaze dropped towards the ground before meeting yours. You had seen the elf Lord worried before, but something else, something more personal, seemed to be a miss. You gave him a slight nudge.

"Well, I may not have all the wisdom of the elves, but I am here if you would like someone to listen."

"You are precisely who I've been needing to talk to," he held your gaze, his voice laced with earnestness. You quirked your head to the side, slightly confused, but remained silent waiting for him to continue. "We have known each other for awhile now, and recent events have shown me I must be bold as the world grows dark once more. I should like if you remain in Imladris."

"Forgive me, but I'm not sure what you mean." Bold? Bold how? Against the orcs?

"I have met many elleths and daughters of men, yet none have stirred my heart quite like you. I understand many of these attachments often result in tragedy, but after the grief your injury gave me I believe it would be a greater tragedy if I were to bury my heart for all the ages of the world." You swallowed, taking in the full (and very clear) meaning of his words. The right time is now.

"I confess, I have something I must share with you as well." Elrond's expression dropped, fearing for the worst. "I do return your feelings," You reassured. "It's just... I do not want to be referred to as a daughter of man, or even a son of man, simply a child of man. It may seem strange, and I hope that we may continue to be friends at least, but on my recent travels I learned of this term: non-binary..." You had started fidgeting with your hands, feeling as though you were losing control and losing everything you had only dreamed of hoping for until a moment ago.

"Ah, I see." Elrond took your hands in his, running his thumbs across your knuckles. "I am familiar with the term. I understand that in the world of men such things may take more time to be accepted," he said, gently squeezing your hands. "But among the elves, our ideas on this subject are much more fluid. I shall always stand with you, melleth nin."

At these words, you could not help the tears that began to brim and fall from your eyes. Elrond raised one of his hands to cup your cheek, wiping away the tears sliding down your face. Noticing the concern knitting his eyebrows together, you couldn't help but softly laugh.

"They are happy tears, I promise," you explained, placing your hand over his. You saw the relief wash over his features and the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a small, relaxed smile. You couldn't help but lean into his touch, pressing a small kiss against the inside of his wrist. "Your words have meant the world to me. I cannot believe I have been so lucky to know you in this lifetime." Your eyes glanced towards his lips. "May I?"

"You may," he returned with a smile, closing the gap between you.

Tag List: @themerriweathermage @entishramblings @miriel-estelwen

[draculasfavoritewife]

One Taste

Summary: You've always known there was more to your pale elf companion than meets the eye -- what kind of pact is sealed in the dead of night?

Pairing: Astarion Ancunín x fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood drinking, flippant talk of death, reader is an insomniac (definitely not a recurring theme in my writing, what a strange coincidence!) Astarion's particular brand of flirtation (idk what to tell you babes, I like condescension) and unnecessarily sexual themes in vampiric feeding (What? It's hot af, so sue me).

It was only a matter of time before I hopped on the Astarion bandwagon when my former roommate started playing bg3. I wrote the first draft of this about a year ago, Christmas 2023, because I had taken a deep dive and became much more than a little obsessed with that first feeding moment. Also for a solid six months -- I kid you not -- the only thing I listened to in order to fall asleep was the 8-hour compilation of all his lines from the game lol (look it up, it's a beautiful thing) so now this man's voice is in my head at all times. It's a glorious curse to be afflicted with. Also reader is a bard because I'm a musician :)

It’s so dark here, even with the halo of the fire smoldering low in the circle of woodland where your companions are camping for the night. Every time the group of you finds a new place to stay for a few days, it’s the same old argument all over again — just how big and bright of a blaze is too much to keep a low profile, but how much light is still needed to keep the more unfriendly denizens of the night away. 

You’re a fairly patient person, had to be to survive on the streets when you were abandoned as a child, but by all the gods, sometimes waiting for the perfect opportunity to charm persuadable passers-by into tossing you a coin for your songs was easier than waiting for these companions to settle a matter with any weight to it.

So call it petty, but if occasionally you were found tuning up your mandolin by the fireside in the middle of the night and the lighter sleepers woke up cursing your name and the name of your Bardic College, you weren’t sure “sorry" was exactly the emotion you felt. 

Perhaps it was something to do with that side of you that had inexplicably connected you to the party’s temperamental rogue. You hadn’t expected at all to be the one that he turned out to be oddly fond of, but sometimes life was stranger than fiction, after all. And even if your strange…friendship of sorts had begun with one of his blades at your throat and a snarl on his lips, what indeed was a little attempted murder between friends, in his own words. 

Friends. 

The word still feels foreign to you; it’s been a long time since you had anyone you would use it for. But as long as his violent tendencies worked in your favor and not against you, he was certainly a valuable ally to have, at the very least. 

And you can’t deny that he intrigues you. 

“Darling! I thought you’d be fast asleep by now. What in the sweet hells are you still doing up at this hour?’ 

Speak of the devil. 

You turn from your seat by the ring of embers to gaze up at him, standing inquisitively over you, and can’t entirely deny the confounding way your heart always skips a beat in your chest when you see him. There’s probably a measure of residual fear there, a nice little self-preserving reminder that he could very well kill you if you don’t keep your guard up, but it’s not entirely that, either. 

No, Astarion Ancunín is a beauty among men — tall enough, though not so tall as to be intimidating, lithe and light-footed as a cat, yet broad of shoulder and chest so you suspect power matches grace. The moon is out tonight, not hiding behind its gloomy clouds for once, and the way the light plays over his alabaster skin and finely shaped features reminds you once again that he must be a high elf, though he has made no mention of ancestry or background to you so far, aside from vague references to a former “employer” that may or may not even be fully true. 

His tongue is far too silver for you to completely believe everything that leaves his mouth. 

“Insomnia,” you offer with a smile, sliding your dagger back into its sheath now that you’ve finished cleaning and sharpening it after the day’s wear. “Ironically the only nighttime lover that’s stuck around me this long, I'm afraid.” 

He clicks his tongue in theatrical pity, lowering himself to the ground beside you; you note with interest, not for the first time, that most beings in such close proximity would radiate body heat to some degree, but as with the other few times he’s been this close, it’s as if no one is beside you at all to break up the steadily chilling atmosphere.

Like his body is as cold as his cutting tone when he’s angry. 

“Well, their loss, I’m sure, Pet. You seem far too intriguing a creature to let go so thoughtlessly.” 

It almost awes you, the sheer ease with which such phrases spill from his lips, that he never seems to run out of lovely words to flatter and fluster those around him. Of course, as such a long-lived being, you imagine he’s had decades if not longer to practice his art and perfect it.

You can only imagine how many before you have fallen under the spell of his hypnotic way with language. 

But you’ve dealt in poetry quite awhile yourself, and you know better than most that the prettiest words are not always without an ulterior motive.

So you play along with his game, whatever it may be. He’s admitted he’s not the most exacting of strategists, so you feel fairly certain he’ll tip his hand sooner rather than later. 

“You flatter me, Astarion.” 

“Of course I do, Love. I aim to please.” 

He’s tossed phrases like that at you before, and as with the other times, you catch the briefest sneer flash across his face before it instantly returns to its usual smooth expression of self-satisfaction. 

“What’s your excuse?” you prod lightly, disguising your real interest as small talk as you place a few more twigs in the fire. You both watch the brief, tiny flares of new flame as they rise and fall before he answers. 

His laugh is too free, just the smallest hint too bright. “I’m an elf, Darling. A few hours of trance and I’ll be fit to outlast any of these fools in a fight. Sleep is a luxury if I so desire, but not a necessity, as I’m sure you recall.” 

You try to send him an annoyed look at his superior tone, but it’s nearly impossible to stay that way when met with his dancing crimson eyes and that damn pretty grin that sweeps his perfect lips into such tantalizing curves. 

“Saucy bastard.” 

“Thank you, I try.” 

The two of you sit there in silence for a little while, and as the stars change position above you, you start to pick up that perhaps there really is more to Astarion’s immediate reasons for being here than he told you. There’s a tightly wound tension lurking underneath the surface of his body, betrayed by minuscule restless movements and shifts. You hear it when he opens his mouth once or twice as if to speak, but he gives you nothing more than a noncommittal hum each time.

Yet his gaze has been searing into you with increasing intensity whenever yours is fixed forward on the fire, and finally you realize it may be up to you to prompt this interaction he so obviously wants, or you may be stuck here in this limbo indefinitely. 

“Do you want something, Astarion?” 

His breath hisses in surprise; as quickly as the lapse in his façade happens it fades, smoothing over itself so when your attention reaches him he’s all unruffled charm again.

“Perceptive little thing, aren’t we.” 

“I aim to please,” you respond, mimicking his delivery of earlier.

Something in the air between you is taut and brittle, and you have the sense that how the next few minutes go is entirely dependent on how you react to him.

As far as you can tell, it’s been your ability to give back as good as you get in terms of wit that has kept you in his good graces so far. 

“This would have been so much simpler if you weren’t plagued with sleeplessness,” he laments. “But no matter. I suppose the worst you can do is refuse me, after all.” 

He leans in close, and now it’s your turn to lose your breath, faced as you are with those suddenly burning eyes, so intense that you find your own gaze flickering instead between the immaculate silver-white curl falling over his forehead and the way his tongue slides contemplatively across his teeth. 

“This may be a…strange request, for lack of a better word,” he admits, pinning you in place with that furnace-like focus. “But I’m utterly ravenous tonight, and I need something you could provide me with quite easily. If you’re feeling at all generous and not inclined to ‘stabbing-and-running’, that is.” 

In the muted glow from the embers’ light, you see at last what you’ve suspected in the back of your mind was there all along, barely hidden in the shadows of his mouth. 

His canine teeth are long, elegantly curving to razor points that glint sharply as his upper lip pulls ever so slightly back. 

Vampire. 

“You need a drink, don’t you?” you whisper, strangely more wondering than frightened. “You’re a vampire.” 

The dangerous red eyes narrow with genuine interest. “And yet your heart isn’t trying to dig its way out of your chest at the very idea. Does it not terrify you, to be faced with such an unholy creature — all alone — in the middle of the night, my Dear?” 

It’s a precarious game now; though you doubt Astarion would outright pounce and drain you dry, you do know better than to think he’ll do what you expect him to, and any wrong move could be one you would sorely regret. You can clearly see the desperate hunger now, clawing behind his carefully set expression — the twitch of an ear, a sweep of his tongue, his chest heaving briefly beneath the filmy white shirt that drapes his figure so finely before it stills again. 

“Believe it or not, you’re not the first vampire I’ve encountered,” you tell him softly. “And you at least had the decency to ask. I’m inclined to not be too difficult, if you swear not to kill me.” 

Astarion moves closer again, causing you to move slightly back.

And you notice that, despite his predatory body language, there’s also a bone-deep weariness in those captivating eyes, that the lovely angles of his face are drawn and even paler than normal. 

“I…won’t kill you.”

The words land somewhere between a purr and a growl, and draw a shiver up your spine like the surprise of cold rain. “I feed almost exclusively from wild animals, you know. But the hunting has been scarce as of late, and much as it pains me to admit it, I’m not in top form at the moment.” He looks away for a moment, something like disgust wrinkling his nose and curling his lip.

“I only require enough to replenish my strength for the hunt.” 

You turn this proposal over in your head, weighing the potential dangers against the advantages.

If he, in fact, doesn’t kill you either during or directly after he feeds, having Astarion in your debt could actually greatly improve your chances of survival on this journey.

It feels worth the risk. 

“Okay.” You nod, consciously slowing your breath to keep from appearing panicked about your choice. “You can take enough to refresh yourself. Don’t push it.” 

The disarming ripple of shock passes across his features, and for just a split second, his eyes look wide and almost soft before he’s fully back in control again, a wicked smirk taking the place of any potential vulnerability that could have been glimpsed there.

“I will be absolutely angelic for you, my Love. You’ll barely feel a thing. May I?” 

He reaches for you, and after a breath of hesitation, you nod your consent. 

The way he lowers your body all the way to the ground is impossibly tender, the complete opposite of the only other time the two of you have been in this position, when he was threatening to kill you. Although his hold is firm, warning you not to try anything rash, his one hand cushions the back of your head as you allow yourself to be guided downwards, and the way that hand caresses its way down your back to settle the rest of your body in turn is a touch of heaven, relaxing your muscles against your better judgment. His other hand cradles your neck, long, cool fingers stroking the sensitive skin between your ear and shoulder until the delicious sensation causes you to open the area up to him with a slight sigh.

Astarion bends over you, and there’s a possessiveness to his posture, a falcon mantling its prey. 

“You look so lovely from this angle,” he chuckles, and the unexpected compliment is enough to drop your guard for an instant, so he lunges forward, teeth bared. 

You gasp at the frozen stab of his fangs embedding themselves deep in your flesh, but before you can make another sound, the pain subsides as quickly as it began. Instead, all you become aware of is the hungry push-pull sensation of his mouth flush against your skin, and the almost erotic sounds of enjoyment that roll from somewhere deep in his chest as your hot blood bathes his tongue and runs down his throat.

And there’s a dangerous sort of pleasure that rises in answer in your own treasonous chest, at the knowledge that he’s taking his very sustenance from your body like this. 

If he doesn’t forget himself and drain you completely dry, maybe you would even offer this again when he’s starving the next time. 

Your vision suddenly blurs as your head spins, and shaken back into the present moment, you dig your nails sharply into Astarion’s bicep, hoping he’ll get the message and stop. 

The eyes that swing to refocus on yours are nearly mad with ecstasy, and as his brow furrows and his jaws tighten around the side of your throat, you start to genuinely fear that maybe he’s too far gone, and this was your final mistake. 

But after a moment that feels like it stretches on for centuries, he reluctantly unlocks his teeth from the depths of you, and with a gentleness that makes your already pounding heart flutter more, he closes up the wounds with a couple smooth laps of his tongue. 

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he singsongs as he rocks back on his heels to stare down at you. He could almost pass for someone pleasantly tipsy on wine, half-lidded eyes and probably the warmest grin you’ve yet to see crossing his face.

Only the thick scarlet rivulets lazily running from the corners of his smug mouth tell the truth. 

You’re still breathing hard, though you blink up at him as calmly as possible. “You'd better tell me I taste good, for the headache I’m probably going to have tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Love, you sell yourself short,” he remarks airily. “You taste much better than simply good. In fact, you’re rather divine, and I hope you realize that’s an immense compliment coming from me.”

Almost absentmindedly, he swipes the back of a hand across his lower lip, slowly licks the excess blood from his hand with a languid tongue, still maintaining eye contact with you as he does so. 

“Mm. Good. Otherwise I might not let you do this again.”

Your eyes feel so heavy now; much as you were planning on staying awake longer, you’re not sure you’ll be able to anymore.

You let your eyelids start to flutter shut. 

“Again — ? Well well, you are a wonder, aren’t you.” Astarion’s voice lowers to a silky whisper as he hesitates a moment, then lightly lifts your head to rest it more comfortably upon a folded blanket he moves beneath you for a pillow.

“And look at it this way, Pet — now I’ve gone and solved your insomnia problem for you! You can thank me in the morning, don’t worry, I’ll wait.” 

Your breathing has begun to slow and deepen, but even as your sight and hearing spiral away, you feel it with stunning clarity as his fingertips drift down your cheek, and his lips, still warm from the temporary life your blood has granted him, brush over the place where he bit you with all the shy adoration and reverence of a lover. 

You wonder if anything in that gesture is at all genuine. 

And that thought makes you wonder why the idea of it all being just an act is a cold one. 

He straightens up; you sense rather than hear him move away from you, a new prowling intensity to his stride as he no doubt heads back into the darkness to hunt.

His retreating words float back to you on the night breeze, and the promise of his future favor releases the last string tethering you to the world of the waking. 

“I promise I’ll not take this for granted, my Love.” 

[kuwdora]

Witcher Recs - Cahir (TWN Edition)

More witcher recs! This post is devoted to The Witcher Netflix's Cahir. Here are 8 stories that includes some rarepairs, shenanigans and smut. I won't rule out making another TWN Cahir recs post since I haven't even gone into some of my other bookmarks that I made back when I was reading as much as I could. So many good stories everywhere.

Hangover by @astaldis. 3785w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla and Cahir. Season 3 canon divergence AU. Drunken shenanigans. Angst and humor. After a night of celebrating his unexpected reunion with Fringilla, Cahir wakes up with a bad hangover and with no memory of the events of the night.

Forever besties and confessions, omg. Fringilla and Cahir’s dynamic is so great, I can’t get enough of it and thankfully this author has so much great fic with them.

In the city of golden towers by @limerental. 11,858, Mature. TWN but blending with books. Fringilla & Cahir. After being accused of treason for their role in Xin'trea, Fringilla is dismissed and demoted, and Cahir is reassigned. Sent back to the City of Golden Towers, the capital of Nilfgaard, the pair end up reluctantly sharing a room together in Cahir's great aunt's apartments.

OMG they were platonic roommates. It’s such a great story about home and friendship and being in that liminal space after failure and not knowing where you fit in now that you’ve fucked up. It’s got some great anachronistic tidbits of the kind you’d find in the witcher books, a ton of incredible Fringilla characterizations, a cat character, and a ton of laugh out loud moments.

the backs have bled by woahpip. 606w. Teen. TWN. Yennefer/Cahir. “You can never trust someone like me, Cahir.” His face never changed; that wasn’t news to him.

This is a great fireside chat between the two characters. It’s a great and candid look at their very different lived experiences and their general philosophy on life. Great ficlet.

Flame and Chaos by MindTraveler. 7531w. Mature. TWN. Yennefer/Cahir. Touch-starved, horsemanship, touch starved. He hadn’t been touched in months, except for pain. Yennefer and Cahir struggle to retrieve what they have both lost. Power.

This is really fucking delicious and really turned me onto the possibilities of the pairing.

A Skittish Colt by @sassaffrassa. 300w. Explicit. Regis/Cahir. Fisting, d/s, praise kink. Cahir's stress can be easily managed with the proper medical techniques applied.

This is 🔥🔥🔥.

What soliders do by Ruler_of_Nope_Island. 742 words. Explicit. TWN. Gallatin/Cahir. Handjobs, there was only one bedroll. It's been a cold, long journey, and the lads need to rest.

Delicious smut.

Stinkhorn by kayforpay. 1895w. Explicit. TWN. Gallatin/Cahir. Sex pollen. Cahir ran headlong into a patch of what Gallatin called "stinkhorn". What he failed to fully explain was that where elves simply had to wash their clothes a few more times than normal, humans tended to fall into a sex frenzy.

More delicious smut.

Head Rush by aunt_zelda. 200 words. Explicit. TWN. Emhyr/Cahir. Alcohol, fealty, dubcon, rape. He owes the Emperor everything, body and soul.

The gif inspiration for this fic, whewwww. This fic is A Lot for 200 words.

Previously on Kuwdora's Witcher Recs:

Angst and Connection

Sorceress Femslash Part 1

Villains and Bad Guys Part 1

Istredd Recs

[grapenehifics]

Rotating the Obikin Lighthouse Fake-Married AU in my brain 🤔 Forgive me, I’m about to throw a lot of ideas at you because my plot brain is a mess lol.

So, I’m thinking this world but in the 1950’s to make them suitably cut off from the rest of the world and to enable some backstory for them both from WWII. Obi-Wan has already been a keeper of the lighthouse for two years now unaccompanied, but in the fall the owners of the house send him a letter requiring him to marry or else he’ll be fired in favor of an already wed keeper. Panicking, he writes a letter to the local town’s paper requesting an ad to be put out looking for a spouse/assistant keeper.

Anakin within this AU is desperate for a job due to backstory I haven’t thought of yet lol and looks through the newspaper ads to find Obi-Wan’s, and although marrying a stranger and working on a tiny island tending a lighthouse doesn’t sound like his thing, he immediately writes back for the promise of free room and board for six months.

Their first meeting is their wedding, officiated on the seaside dock of the island right after Anakin gets off the boat. From there, the fic would go through their awkward first few weeks, their conflict with one another confined to such a small space, then their budding friendship when they recognize themselves in one another.

I think the smut/romance would naturally come about in the winter, when they have to spend nearly every minute inside lest they freeze in the ocean’s icy mist. Would definitely feature cuddling for warmth, fireside bonding, sleeping in the same bed on the coldest nights 👀 I can just imagine all the kinky shit they’d get up to on a remote island the second the dam broke between them lmaooo

Happy ending is they eventually save up enough money and buy their own lighthouse as a proper couple

Sorry for the unsolicited idea dump! Ignore me if you’re not into it hahaha just had to throw my sudden plot around the AU somewhere!

OMG YES THIS EXACTLY this is what I was picturing too!!

Anakin could be having a hard time readjusting to life post-war that makes it difficult for him to hold down a steady job? PTSD, and/or that's where he lost an arm and that's been a tough transition? (Or employers simply look at him and *assume* he won't be able to do the job, even though he's perfectly capable.)

Their first few weeks together would be SO awkward and uncomfortable! Neither are very talkative or forthcoming so they just sort of...sit and stew, haha. Until one of them makes the other laugh and they learn to have a normal conversation :)

And then you had me at cuddling for warmth. The aesthetics of this is amazing. Fireplaces, warm blankets, hot tea...when they do have to go outside to work, they'll inevitably get soaked to the bone in a storm and need the other to get them out of their wet clothes, dry them off and warm them up!!

And sooooo much privacy; they can be as loud as they want together all the way out there, and have sex in every room of that lighthouse whenever they feel like it ;) (a.k.a. often) (The next owners might not love that part so much...)

EXTREMELY into this and would gladly read more of this anytime!! ♥♥♥ Thank you for running with this fun prompt!!

[torchwood-99]

Secret Santa Round Up

A big, big thanks to everyone who partook in the Rohan Secret Santa, it's been such fun! Here's a list of all the works that have been submitted (if I've left yours out, please let me know!)

Cold hands, warm heart – @celeluwhenfics on Tumblr

Latent Brilliance - konartiste - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own] – @konartiste on Tumblr

Landlocked: A Rohan Secret Santa Ficlet – @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras on Tumblr

Setting Precedent – @emyn-arnens on Tumblr

Theodred for @lucifers-legions Merry Christmas!!! I hope you like it – @mummelthecryptid on Tumblr

Wísfæst-líc Cwǽn – @emyn-arnens on Tumblr

for @mummelthecryptid, based on your prompt "royal wedding" for Rohan Secret Santa!! this is just an edit of how i would... – @pearlessar on Tumblr

A Fireside Chat – @lucifers-legions on Tumblr

Rohan Secret Santa – @emmanuellececchi on Tumblr

❅ Rohan Secret Santa Surprise for @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras! Because you love Háma and unexpected friendships. ❅ – @frodothefair on Tumblr

Torchwood-99 — My Big Fat Rohirric Gondorian Wedding - TeamGwenee...

Torchwood-99 — The Serpent Under It - TeamGwenee - The Lord of...

About conch shells and coats of arms – @hastyhobbit on Tumblr

@from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras on Tumblr

@celeluwhenfics  @konartiste  @frodothefair  @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras  @lucifers-legions  @mummelthecryptid  @emmanuellececchi  @hastyhobbit  @emyn-arnens  @pearlessar

[appalachiancowboy99]

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, M!! 🎄🦌

You have been visited by Reindeer Arthur! May he bring you much luck and happiness for 2025!

I know we haven't interacted much yet, but I've been such a fan of your writing from afar for a long time! Fireside and After Dark are such great one-shots that are proof by themselves of your talent and impeccable writing style. Also, I'm still very very excited for The Heart of an Outlaw!! Looking at your blog (whom I'm totally in love with btw, green + forest theme? hell yes) and your interactions, I can really tell you're a kind-hearted and warm person! This app and the World need more people like you! 💞 Happy Holidays!! 🎄

-Pine🌱

Oh my goodness @pinescent-and-gingerbread !! I hadn't expected such a kind message to be left in my inbox. I'm incredibly honored that you view me through such a kind lens, that absolutely means the world to me 💕 I never expected so much love in all my days on this platform, nor such high praises from amazing creators, such as yourself (absolutely love your theme and username too, by the way 🤗 Twinning)! Also, can we just talk about your illustration skills?! You're definitely gonna have to give me some tips because WOW!! So incredibly cute! Look at his little antlers! I love it 😭 I really hope that in the new year you and I could interact more and explore this budding friendship! Please feel free to message or tag me at any point! OH! AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! 🥳

Always sending you so much love, Pine! - M. 💕

[tookishcombeferre]

Metamorphosis & Mutation: A Cedric the Sorcerer Playlist

My hand slipped and made a 2+ hour playlist. My challenge for myself was that I was not allowed to use *any* of the songs from the series.

If you know how much I love music, you know I love a good challenge. There are one or two songs that cuss in them. (Only one "f-bomb" from a Passenger song, but it's worth it because the song "Fairytales and Firesides" is beautiful. The line "We are bitter losers, snarling through our smiles" was just too perfect to pass up.)

"The Incident" and its immediate aftermath is represented by "The Sacrifice of Faramir" for ... reasons. It just felt perfect. Any LotR fans will likely understand that and where my mind was going with that one. (Surprising number of parallels between Sofia and Pippin, Cedric and Faramir, and Goodwyn and Denethor. Might make a post about this eventually. Due to the casting in movies, which don't get me wrong, overall I love, very few people remember (or know) that, in the novels, Pippin was 28 at the beginning of the book and turns 29 in Gondor near the end of the trilogy. Hobbits don't reach full cultural maturity, and are considered minors, until 33. Billy Boyd was actually the oldest of the hobbit actors. So, most people forget that/ don't know that fact. But, now you know! :D) (I may or may not have spent four years of my life researching these books and relationships in almost monastic levels of isolation except for when my [now] spouse and our mutual friends would drag me out my dorm room to ensure I ate and hydrated myself. The sad thing is I am only kind of hyperbolizing.) A note on the song "I Found" by Amber Run - that is meant platonically/ paternally. If people read anything else into that DON'T. Just DON'T. (For people who have read "In the Flares of the Sun," and continue to read it, this song will hit different. The whole idea of "I found love where it wasn't supposed to be, right in front of me, talk some sense to me." is just ... it hits. Platonically. It hits from two directions for folks who have read the chapter "First, Do No Harm." Honestly, this song has always given me *deep friendship* vibes more than anything else anyway. The first playlist I ever used it on was an adopted mother-daughter relationship in a dystopian novel I was writing. It was used right alongside "You'll Be In My Heart" from Tarzan. So, if you want to know the vibes I get from this song, now you know. The kid was based on Thomas Paine so it was actually a "Common Sense" pun. ;D) "Show Me" by Idina Menzel is also intended platonically. I first heard that song on an Anna and Elsa tribute video so I've always thought of that song platonically. But, if you're gonna weird about either of those songs, just don't. With that out of the way, there are some very "me" choices in here. "This is the Moment" from Jekyll and Hyde was my *jam* in middle school. I almost broke my CD of the "dream cast album" with Anthony Warlow as Jekyll/Hyde playing it so many times on my CD player before I got an iPod. (I NEVER claimed I was not old, y'all. Also, I'm actually auditioning for the role of Jekyll/Hyde in December. XD) The fact that there is both Jason Robert Brown and Marianas Trench on this playlist is a very "me" choice. Also, yes, I did put two songs from the new Hunchback of Notre Dame with Michael Arden as Quasimodo on here. Don't *judge* me. (Made of Stone is a perfect song for Cedric, COME ON!) Also, if I chose to set Cedric's rant to Roland as "If It's True" from Hadestown. It is *my* prerogative to give my sad trash-panda this beautiful rant. If I wanna play that pre-dungeon moment as a little more justified because it felt a little more true than not ... it's *my* playlist. (Hadestown is based on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. The song "If It's True" is set just after Orpheus has just gotten his butt whooped by Hades and told that he's worthless, that he's basically lower than dirt, and that music and love are meaningless.) (1. I'm absolutely setting this playlist in the universe of "In the Flares of the Sun." So, mild spoiler, in the first verse of this song, for backstory about something that has only been implied so far, but is coming up in a future chapter. The spoiler is very blink and you'll miss it. It's like a line and a half of the song. But, it's there, and I did choose the song intentionally because of the backstory I built in the world of that fic/ other fics I'm planning for future. So, you'll get a brief glimpse into my brain. 2. But, let's be real:

"'Cause the ones who tell the lies/ Are the solemnest to swear/ And the ones who load the dice/ Always say the toss is fair/ And the ones who deal the cards/ Are the ones who take the tricks/ With their hands over their hearts/ While we play the game they fix/ And the ones who speak the words/ Always say it is the last/ And no answer will be heard/ To the question no one asks" Mmmmm ... so perfect. So angry. Also that: "Tell me what to do" - so many different characters that could be directed towards.) But, this is also why I put the world's best anti-villain anthem that sounds like a Disney-princess "I want song" right before it. It's about the *juxtaposition.* It's about the *nuance.* (Cedric basically is Dr. Jekyll. Okay? It's probably why I love him. Jekyll/Hyde has long been a favorite character of mine.) Also, I'm obsessed with Collabro. Their covers are so good, and the story of how they came together is so supremely weird and serendipitous. Look them up. They do not disappoint. Also, "Chosen Family" is one of my favorite songs ever. I used the one where Rina Sawayama and Elton John sing together. Though, Rina Sawayama is the original writer. I love both versions, but I also just love Elton John so much, and I love the version where he sings with her. I hope y'all enjoy it too. I will spread the gospel of this song forever because I just love it. And, I had to end with the credit's song of "The Tigger Movie" - "Your Heart Will Lead You Home" - because that movie destroys me every single time I watch it. The end. That's my notes on this. There are a whole bunch of other songs I didn't cover. But, yeah. These are the ones I wanted to make notes on. This got really long. If you can't tell music is something of a special interest of mine. I managed to refrain from putting full blown oprea on here. You're welcome. I'm not sure exactly where I would have gone if I *had* decided to put opera on here. But, it's not an impossibility or something I wouldn't do, or haven't done, for other character playlists in the past. XD

[slusheeduck]

Casual Banter Masterpost

aka my Fictober 2023 drabbles! I figure I might as well get them all in one place on Tumblr, since I have them in one AO3 fic. Using the titles and descriptions from AO3.

Featuring my named Tav (Falerin), Tav/Astarion, a lot of Gale, and most importantly INTERACTIONS BETWEEN THE COMPANIONS.

Day 1: Smart - Astarion asks for a magic lesson. Day 2: Prize - Karlach wins a prize at the circus. Day 3: Fireside - One last campfire chat before the Shadowlands. Day 4: Cooking Lesson - Lae'zel learns to cook. Day 5: Mask - Astarion tries on a mask for funsies. It goes badly. Day 6: Sick - Gale and Falerin chat about friendship and illnesses Day 7: Anchor - Astarion regrettably holds Halsin's hand. Day 8: Good Taste - Gale shares a treat, and a good time is had by all. Day 9: A Talk - Just a little chat, in regards to some campsite romance. Day 10: Drizzt Do'Urden - Wyll, Karlach, and Astarion find some common ground. Day 11: Temporary - The campsite romance hits a snag. Day 12: Mirror - Gale makes good on teaching Astarion magic. Day 13: Lost Wizard: If Found, Contact Tara - Tara despairs over the state of her runaway pet wizard. Day 14: Clowning Around - Falerin uses a disguise kit. Astarion wants a divorce. Day 15: Proper Horn Care - There's no possible way to write this summary without it looking horny. Day 16: A Token - Halsin carves a little gift for Astarion. Day 17: One Nice Thing - Karlach shows Shadowheart something nice, when she really needs it. Day 18: 90% Evil - Why WOULDN'T the rogue be the one to talk to the death cultist? Day 19: Seamstress - No one in camp but Astarion would have survived Home Ec. Day 20: The Selfless Choice - Or, How To Be A Confidant To Both Halves Of A Couple In The Face Of World-Ending Catastrophe, By Gale Dekarios Day 21: Taste Test - Falerin is...kind of a fucking weirdo. This is Gale's burden to bear. Day 22: Curl-based Despair - Astarion experiences #curlygirlproblems. Falerin helps. Day 23: Hunger - Someone gets a little hangry. Day 24: Pact, Pt. 1 - Astarion finds out about Fal's illness. Day 25: Pact, Pt. 2 - Astarion finds out about Fal's illness. Day 26: The Cuddliest Foe - Lae'zel does some research. Clive assists. Day 27: Homecoming - Two resident Baldurians discuss coming home. Day 28: Date - Astarion gets some new clothes. Day 29: A Healthy Dose of Theatrics - Are you really best friends if you've never been tempted to throttle each other? Day 30: Starfall -The newly formed party takes a moment to enjoy a magical sight. Day 31: Epilogue - A quiet moment after saving the world. Post-Fictober Drabbles:

Stars in His Eyes - Fal learns about naming ceremonies--and why Astarion has the name he does.

Slumber Party - Astarion and Gale have a fun night of kicking their feet, giggling, and discussing the all-consuming power they both intend on taking for themselves. Kidnapped - Astarion's siblings succeed in getting him back to the manor - but he's stronger now. Plus he has a very, very pissed-off partner. Rewriting The Story - After defeating Cazador and a tryst in the graveyard, it's time for some relationship reflection. Happy - Surely being the lover of an ascended vampire is the happiest ending one could hope for. (Ascended Astarion AU)

Wild Heart - A brief moment, the morning after the almost ascension, where two early risers have a chat.

Matters of Balance - Withers performs a resurrection. Breathe Deep, and Move - You can never really go home.

Side-Tracked - As they're embroiled in a murder mystery, Fal decides to take Astarion out for some enrichment.

Late Night Thoughts - Astarion has some thoughts on Falerin's lie from earlier in the day. (Bonus chapter for Side-Tracked)

New Tricks - Astarion discovers a new trick while trying to herd a cat.

Party Favors - The ultra-self-indulgent take on the ever popular tiefling party.

Meet-Cute - Every couple starts somewhere. And sometimes that's on the ground, with a knife.

Five Good Nights - Four good nights shared before the tiefling party, and one shared after.

The Brink - Falerin reaches his breaking point in the House of Hope. Luckily, Gale knows exactly what he's going through--and he's more than glad to help.

~

Rewinding the Thread - CB adjacent 3-shot

A chance conversation in Baldur's Gate leads to an unlikely visitor to Falerin and Astarion's home a year after the Netherbrain's defeat. She pleads for just one thing: that Astarion pays a visit to his family - his true family, the one that's mourned him for two centuries.

In The Weeds - Astarion decides to take in the sights of Baldur's Gate during the day, and has a nice conversation with a local.

The Invitation - A surprise visitor leads to a bit of arguing, an invitation home, and quite possibly Faerûn's most awkward tea.

[meticulousfragments]

I spent my walk to work today listening to the Fireside Chat, and I have thoughts about the similarities between Suvi and Ame--I don't think I really made the connection until hearing Aabria talk about Suvi's willingness to sacrifice herself when needed.

And it just struck me that despite how different their personal goals and philosophies are, they both have such a strong sense of the individual as a part of a collective.

For Suvi that's the Citadel's hierarchy, but for Ame it's a more localized community. And they see things very differently, but both feel the call to serve something greater. As I understand it, the major difference is in what they see as the ultimate point of that something: upholding the Citadel and Empire is a goal unto itself for Suvi, but for the Witch of Toma serving the community allows that community to serve its members in turn.

But they both were raised keeping in mind their function as part of that bigger picture, and both grew up knowing they'd eventually take a title that would define a big part of their identity. They both grew up lonely to some degree because of that--no wonder a childhood friendship holds such weight for them as young adults. They're fascinatingly similar in the space around their differences.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Tintin fic recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

The Crab with the Mechanical Claws by WinryWeiss - Rated M

"The Adventures of Tintin" steampunk reimagining. When a famous engineer goes missing, a former navy captain stumbles upon a can full of opium and a young freelance journalist receives a mysterious parcel, an adventure like no other starts to unwind.

Tintin and the Secret of Mermaid Island by Caro_Dee - Rated G

Tintin and Captain Haddock are after the rest of Red Rackham's treasure. It doesn’t quite go as they expected.

fireside haikus by requin_renard - Rated G

Holiday plans go awry. Tintin finds himself on watch duty and turns to literary pursuits to pass the time.

just a little oneshot outlining their friendship and haddock is in roasting dad mode.

boy's best friend is worth the rubble by kivancalcite - Rated T

Written for a month's anniversary of being on this site and being the 7th fic I've published on the 7th day of January. Tintin gets too wrapped up in a mystery in a broken down house, and has to be dragged out before it completely collapses. That's of course if Snowy hadn't been trapped, and Tintin makes the decision to run in after him at his own expense. Rather him than his beloved dog, after all.

A Place Like This by AngieOwlie - Rated G

When Mrs Finch the local orphanage caretaker delivers a pleasant tuft-haired little boy to Marlinspike Hall (“Just until the orphanage is safe again and the suspect who ransacked the place is caught!”), the master of the house reluctantly agrees to look after him. But between keeping the boy out of trouble and out of his beard, he slowly realizes that perhaps the most difficult task of all is really in keeping the tuft of ginger out of his heart. In other words - Captain Haddock gets into all sorts of bumbling mishaps while looking after child!Tintin.

aroace, not your place by kivancalcite - Rated G

Little bit of a self-projection piece, I headcanon Tintin as someone on the ace and aro spectrum, and someone who'd deal with the usual questions as a result. References certain events of the film and demonstrates the ginger reporter coming to more of an understanding over his lack of interest, attraction and desire in the areas of certain affection from others, especially when he eventually bumps into the captain at a life-changing point on the ship known as the Karaboudjan.

growing pains by requin_renard - Not Rated

In which Tintin somewhat loses himself and Haddock gains a son. "He spent nearly three days crouching in that plastic chair, watching the other’s small chest moving up and down. Willing it to keep rising and falling like the world depends on it. Haddock realises that in fact, his world did depend on it."

Wound by kay_cricketed - Rated T

As he recovers from his kidnapping at the hands of a no-name jewelry thief, Tintin realizes that not every story is one he will walk away from unscathed. The harder lesson yet: there is now someone he can lean on when walking isn't an option.

Under the Roof of Marlinspike Hall by twilighteve - Rated G

“He supposed he had always known, but amidst the adventures they had, it slipped his mind. Now, though, the fact that Tintin was so very young rammed into him viciously. How old was he, exactly? He couldn’t be older than twenty.” In which Haddock somehow became Tintin’s caretaker before he even realized it.

what's fiery red, pale white, dark blue and purple? by PUNK_MENACE - Rated T

It's nothing they're not used to. Bruises and cuts are just a hazard of the job. Some days are harder than others but with Nestor's breakfast, everything seems a little better.

Small Blessings by SolarMorrigan - Rated G

After all these years, Tintin still manages to surprise Haddock- even when he's not trying