#I was a pretty strong wizard back in the day

[dragon-chica]

i haven't played wizard101 in YEARS but decided to download it and there's a pride piggle plush and pet and there was never this stuff when I played, I want it so bad now

[novelmonger]

I wasn't expecting it to take this long, but after a million distractions, I'm back to going through the LotR audio commentaries and taking note of any interesting tidbits I haven't heard before.

Please enjoy my notes on the RotK design team commentary with Richard Taylor, Tania Rodger, Grant Major, Alan Lee, John Howe, Dan Hennah, and Chris Hennah:

They had to make Deagol's ears out of waterproof gelatin rather than latex because he was going to fall in the water, and the normal latex ears would have come off. I guess they must have done the same any other time a Hobbit got submerged, but they didn't say that.

The fish that Gollum eats at the beginning is made from some kind of edible gelatin so he could actually bite into it. They also had another prop fish that wasn't edible that they gave Andy Serkis to keep at the end XD

The little stone hollow thing where Frodo and Sam are sleeping for their first scene in the movie was a set they built with a removable back wall so they could get a camera in to shoot it from the back as well as the front. Why did I never think of that before?

There were a couple of extra shots they needed of Orthanc in the background to finish up the movie, but they hadn't managed to get the footage from the miniatures (and I guess the miniatures were gone by that point? idk). So they took one of the model collectibles Weta had made and took some photos of it out in the parking lot XD

Whoooooaaaa! Okay, so Alan Lee talks about how, in legends, they say that you have to kill a wizard three times for him to stay dead. And Saruman dies "three times" - first he's stabbed, then he's impaled, then he's drowned. So Saruman is dead dead. Dare I say it? This is...I think this is a better death than the one in the book ._.

They even put carvings on the crossbeams underneath the seats of the chairs in Edoras! You are never ever going to see them, but that was their dedication to making everything feel authentic. That's what sets this apart from so many fantasy movies and shows made these days.

Red in the costumes is meant to suggest royalty. That's why Aragorn, Boromir, Theoden, and Theodred all have red in their costumes - as well as Bilbo and Frodo! You're meant to look at someone wearing red and unconsciously think, "there's something regal about them."

John Howe points out that you probably wouldn't ever reforge a sword like they do with Narsil, at least not in the sense of putting the pieces back together, because it wouldn't be as strong as it was originally. (You could melt it down and start over again, of course.) But, he reminds us, these are the Elves, and it's more of a symbolic thing anyway.

The great hall in Minas Tirith was inspired by Charlemagne's chapel (and Byzantine architecture was one of the main influences on the design of Gondor in general).

The statue of the king in Ithilien was made out of polystyrene, which you would think would be pretty light, but it was so huge it was actually very heavy. They had to transport it to the location in three pieces: the base, the body, and the head. And to lift one on top of each other, they had to rig a sort of pulley system over the limb of a tree, using a four-wheel drive truck to pull it. But they discovered that the first truck wasn't getting enough traction, so they hooked a second truck up to it, and ended up pulling the first truck up into the air along with the statue!

They created fourteen new weapons just to put in the background of the armory in the scene where the Witch-King is getting ready for battle @_@

John Howe said that his inspiration for Minas Morgul was...getting his wisdom teeth pulled??? He describes a metal clamp digging into the perfectly healthy enamel of his tooth to pull it out, and draws a parallel to the metal pieces the orcs fitted to the top of the pristine white parapets, staining and violating them. Um...thanks, I could've done without that visual, John.

I can't believe I never thought about this before, but there's a little wooden roof over the pile of wood for the beacon that Pippin lights. The reasoning behind that is you need some kind of cover to keep the wood more or less dry for when it needs to be lit in an emergency. The beacon will burn away the wooden roof, but it can be replaced easily enough, and it's worth it to be able to quickly light the beacon.

A lot of the saddles they used were ordered from the Indian military, because they had a good, old-fashioned sort of look to them. Then they would add onto the saddles with things that would make them look distinctly Rohirric, rather than Indian.

Alan Lee's daughter worked on some of the figures in the doors of Minas Tirith!

John Howe goes off on this whole tangent about how there's no religion or religious structures in Middle-Earth, and why that might be, but the whole time I was just sitting there going, "...have you never read The Silmarillion????"

Because they had to make over a hundred suits of Gondorian armor, other than the hero suits, they couldn't make each one exactly the right size for the man who would wear it, so the casting department had to only get actors within a certain range of size. They also built the suits of armor with sliding pieces, so they could be somewhat fitted to different sizes.

The horses started out as being part of the art department's responsibility, but as time went on, there were just so many horses they had to keep track of (and the various liveries they would have to be fitted out with) that they had to make a separate horse department to oversee it all.

Because so much of the movie was filmed on-location, in some very remote locations, they had to make a sort of caravan of mobile repair stations that they could take with them. They had all the tools and crew necessary on hand wherever they went so they could repair broken props or ripped costumes, reapply makeup for gore and injuries, take nicks out of the edge of weapons.... It was really like moving an army around!

For the dream where the Evenstar breaks, they made a version of it that was five times bigger than normal, out of a very brittle resin. Then they made an oversized section of the floor and dropped it from a great height so it would completely shatter in a dramatic way like that.

Anduril was John Howe's design. He based it on a sword belonging to a friend of his in Germany, which to him is the ideal sword, the most beautiful sword. He also talked a bit about how Men were taller and bigger in the First and Second Ages, so their swords would have been longer.

John Howe: "Why do people criticize Tolkien for not developing his characters sufficiently? I cannot fathom that kind of criticism. I think it's done by people who don't read between the lines."

Richard Taylor said they had a lot of fun gathering up all the skulls after each take in the Paths of the Dead to put back up at the top so they could be poured down again. Apparently Viggo liked to gather them up and try to throw them at the crew members! "Many hours of skullduggery was to be had," as Richard put it XD

Apparently, they'd made dozens of really finely detailed silicone heads to be lobbed over the wall of Minas Tirith, but then all but one of them were stolen! So they had to quickly put together some crude latex ones to use in the shoot instead (one of which the mayor of Wellington threw). They didn't talk about this, but I'm assuming the one good head that was left is the one that gets a close-up. You have to wonder who out there was sitting around with a bunch of highly realistic latex severed heads in his basement or something....

While most of the siege towers are miniatures or CG, they built the top third of one and put it on tracks so they could move it up against the wall. They built the set with breakable ramparts for when the little drawbridge thing crashes down.

They had the same trouble in Minas Tirith that they did in Helm's Deep, with the battering ram being too heavy for the stunties to lift. But they never actually explained how they got around that problem, if it was the same solution or not :/ All they said was that they had replaceable panels in the doors, in case they were damaged by the battering ram.

In order to make Shelob's webs, they had to heat up two polymers and mix them together to make the stringy, sticky material. In order to mix them, they had to be heated up to 220 degrees C, but if they got up to 228 degrees, they would burst into flame @_@ After they were heated and mixed, they would dribble the mixture on top of a vat of water, where it would cool in spiderweb-like shapes. Then they would lift it out on a frame, and they could carefully place it on the set. One time, the polymers did burst into flame, and they were running out of fire extinguishers to put it out! O.O Eventually, they did call the fire department, who said they'd done everything the fire department would have done. They got the fire put out, but it was a nerve-wracking moment, because the room where they were making the webs was connected to the studio, so it could have been disastrous D:

Bernard Shaw apparently got the idea to do that whole bit where he knocks his sword against the row of spears when he saw the collection of spears all lined up in a row in the art department.

The "oil" that Denethor pours over himself and Faramir is a mixture of glycerin and water. (I always wonder about these things, so I'm really glad they mentioned it.)

When they were filming the pyre scene, they had a silicone dummy for Faramir on the burning pyre. Apparently somebody on the crew brought "David Wenham" a cup of coffee over because they thought he'd fallen asleep on the side of the set, only to discover that it was a dummy! XD

The horse rig they made for close-up work of people on horseback got affectionately nicknamed "the Phony Pony." The first day they brought it on set, Peter Jackson got up on it and "rode" the horse, making the whole crew laugh XD

One of the ideas that Peter Jackson came up with for the mumakil in a brainstorming session (which Richard Taylor says he's still not sure if PJ was serious about or not) was that they could suck up several riders in its trunk and then fire them out like bullets. I'm...really glad they didn't go with that, whether PJ was serious or not <_<

Alan Lee says that the first time he saw the dead mumakil that Weta made for the set, the body was hollow, and some of the crew had set up a TV inside it and were watching a rugby game XD

The last miniature they built for LotR was the Minas Tirith docks where the Corsair ships come in. It kept getting put off until almost the end of the shoot, so they only had five days to put it together! @_@

All of the dead horses are fake, of course, so Weta had to make them all. They were made of lightweight material, so each day you'd see the set dressers just kind of casually carrying in a whole dead horse and then picking one up from the battlefield afterwards like it's no big deal. They had to do a lot of repairs to the dead horses, because the legs and ears kept falling off or getting bent the wrong way XD

The stone Watchers in Cirith Ungol have Maori influence in their design. I wish they'd talked about that in more detail, but it was just mentioned in passing.

They were concerned about the various copies of the One Ring being stolen, so they kept it in a lunchbox that was labeled "Screws."

The scene where Frodo and Sam join the orc convoy was filmed on location up on a mountain, so they had to deal with a whole bunch of extras in extensive prosthetics and armor, which would make them sweat while they were moving around, but then when the camera wasn't rolling, it would be a challenge to keep them warm. The way they did most of the orcs was that they wore a rubber mask and then a helmet, and they would need to take them off at regular intervals so the actors could get some air. So in between takes, after the director called, "Cut!" there would also be a cry of, "Heads off!" That meant the dressers would have to rush into the crowd and quickly take off the extras' helmets and masks XD

Because the crew was committed to not damaging any of the flora and fauna in the places where they were filming, even in the location that became the plains of Mordor that Frodo and Sam struggle across, there were little flowers and moss that they wanted to protect (and it was a national park). So they would lay down carpets on the ground for people to walk on, so they wouldn't damage the plant life. I'm sure that made for a strange sight, Frodo and Sam struggling in tattered clothing over rocks and boulders, surrounded by perfectly ordinary rugs XD

To do the decapitation of the Mouth of Sauron, they had a headless dummy sitting there, and Viggo would swipe his sword where the head should be. Then Weta Digital put in the head afterwards.

The lava in Mount Doom was mostly a miniature (except for the set where Sean and Elijah did their part), made from methyl cellulose and other things to make it look like lava. They set it up on a table that they would tilt so it would flow down around the model boulders made from urethane.

Richard Taylor said that, at that time, no one had really done a very good CG bird, so he was especially pleased at how the eagles turned out.

There were about 400 people working in the art department total, and most of them had never worked in the film industry before! @_@

Ngila Dickson's philosophy for the Elves was that none of their "crowns" or headpieces would go upwards, but would fit close around their heads and then go down. That's one of those things I've subconsciously noticed all these years, but never really thought about before.

Apparently, a little bit of the graphite used on Aragorn's armor in the coronation scene kind of puffed out when he and Arwen go in for their kiss, and got on Arwen's dress D: And some well-meaning person tried to rub it off, but only succeeded in spreading it around further, thus ruining the dress. And most of the female characters only had one copy of each costume, because all except for Eowyn don't see battle and thus don't need different versions with varying amounts of wear and tear. They're just made to wear in one or two scenes of them looking pretty and walking through a room. But alas, that lovely green dress was ruined.

They didn't have much time with Sir Ian Holm, so they only had a week to get a mold of his face and make the old-age prosthetics for the Grey Havens. But then word came down that he didn't want to have prosthetics, so they were to just make him look old with makeup. They were really disappointed, but then on the day, Ian Holm saw the prosthetics sitting off in the corner and asked what it was. When they explained, he said it wasn't true, and insisted on them putting the prosthetics on instead.

One thing that was really impressed upon me during this whole commentary (over all three movies) was just how much love and joy all of the crew had for the project. Sometimes you watch a movie or read a book that really means a lot to you, that's changed your life, and you wonder if the people who made it fully grasp what a beautiful thing they've created. These people know. They were fully aware, from start to finish, that they were making something truly great and worthy of praise. And I think that's beautiful.

[natalievoncatte]

The storm was blinding. A white torrent fell from the sky in a raging tempest, the likes of which Lena had not seen since she left Metropolis for National City. This was no mere blizzard, but a genuine thundersnow- lighting flashed eerily in the strange pink-white night as thunder buffeted the windows. The Tower’s balcony door was sealed shut against the driving storm.

They were all out there and Lena was here. There was no supervillain this time, at least, not directly- the freak blizzards rolling through Southern California and wreaking havoc on the unprepared people and infrastructure were caused by some asshole calling himself the Weather Wizard, screwing around with the Flash three states away. Lena had seen him on TV; he was a few clicks above a Condiment King-tier villain. One of the joke guys that some cape would take care of on their way to a real fight.

Or he had been, until he got his hands on some tech he wasn’t supposed to have and started punching above his weight class. Lena didn’t care about that. She was thinking about only one thing right now: Kara.

They were all out there. Kara and the others. The city was a mess; people needed heated shelters, the power was out across two thirds of the city, and Kara had already prevent hundreds of deaths on a bridge that was about to collapse from the unexpected weight of snow and the intense cold. The blizzard had come on so fast that the rush our traffic was almost literally frozen right in place.

The city needed its heroes and Lena… Lena was stuck in the Tower. Literally; there was no way to get her home in this mess and she wasn’t going to leave, and she’d sworn off the idea of putting on silly clothes and picking a made up name to go cast spells and deploy gadgets with the others.

She had a feeling… more of a quiet understanding, really, that Kara was against that, even if she never quite said it.

Finally, she saw a shape in the whirling snow as a caped figure walked up to the balcony doors. As Kara stepped inside, a blast of arctic air followed her, chilling Lena to the bone.

Kara was *shivering*.

“Kara?” said Lena. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you get cold before.”

“J-just exerting myself,” said Kara. “Alex wants me in the sunbed for a few minutes to charge back up.”

She clearly needed it. Her cape was stiff and crusted with frost and there was snow everywhere, clinging to her hair and brows. She paused for a moment, as she descended the stairs, and looked at Lena. Really looked at her- despite the chill and the frost clinging to her, her eyes were warm, the warm blue of the sky on a summer day.

“Kara?”

“Nothing, sorry,” she said.

Lena watched her pass, feeling a bit off kilter, then rushed to the kitchen. She whipped up some of Kara’s favorite hot chocolate and didn’t spare the whipped cream or a cherry on top, and piled up some donuts and cinnamon rolls beside.

Kara looked haggard, groaning as she laid down under the lamps. Her face lit up brighter than the false suns when she saw the tray Lena carried.

“Oh Rao, I could kiss you for that.”

Lena almost missed a step, smoothly recovering from her stumble instead of dumping it all on Supergirl’s crest. Kara looked at her intently, an unreadable but wide-eyed look on her face.

“I know you’re hungry. Come on, eat.”

“Can’t stay long,” Kara said, between eating entire donuts in two bites, “they need me.”

“I know,” said Lena. “They always do.”

Kara sat quietly for a while, eating, and it made Lena feel more at ease to see some color coming back into her cheeks, even if the snowmelt wetted her hair. Absently, Lena brushed a damp lock out of Kara’s eyes.

“Are you going back out?”

Kara nodded. “I have to. They need me in five places at once. The city is completely unprepared for something like this.”

“I wish I could help.”

“You are helping.”

Lena sighed. “I could do more, you know. I��m starting to master the magic, and now that the Foundation is going strong, I can whip up tech pretty fast.”

Kara sighed and sat up. “I know, but I need you here. I can’t be distracted by worrying about your safety all the time.”

“You wouldn’t say that to Alex. Or J’onn. Or Nia.”

Kara let out an exasperated sound, but her voice was very soft. “It’s different when it’s you.”

Lena tried to swallow but her throat clenched, and she fought down the sensation of her heart doing a backflip. Kara rose from the bed and stood to her full height, and Lena was once again taken aback by how dashing and heroic she looked in her suit, like a modern day knight. It made her feel strangely small in a way that she didn’t dislike.

Kara carefully took Lena’s hands in her own, tenderly rubbing the pads of her thumbs over Lena’s knuckles, sending chilling shocks up her arms.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Kara nodded and departed, rushing out of the Tower and back into the storm.

She was gone for hours again. Everyone checked in with Lena periodically, and eventually, Lena found a couch to lay on and curled up under a cardigan as a blanket. J’onn made this place much more comfy than the DEO, she gave him that.

Kara breezed back in sometime after dawn, trudging back inside, ice-caked and frost-encrusted, pale and worn down. She headed right for the kitchen.

Lena padded after her in her stocking feet.

Kara sighed. “Alex, Nia, and Brainy at helping with the shelters. J’onn is out there… there’s roof collapses and accordion wrecks and fires and people trapped. It’s going to be days of this, cleaning it up. How does a blizzard start fires.”

Planting a hand on the fridge, Kara leaned on it and sighed.

“How much time do you have?”

“Now that the sun is up, I don’t need the bed. I can just pop up above the cloud cover if I need it. I just wanted to get warm for a minute.”

“Sit,” said Lena.

Kara sat. Lena made more hot chocolate. The donuts had run out, so Lena tore open more of the little powdered cocoa packets and kept on making more until Kara waved her off.

“Are you getting warmed up?” said Lena.

The way Kara looked at her spoke volumes, but Lena couldn’t read them.

“Yes. I have to go.”

“Okay, but after this is over, you owe me some alone time.”

Kara smiled. “It’s a date.”

They both froze. It was a common phrase, an ordinary idiom, but it felt like something had just… unveiled itself, like fog rolling back from an unknown, verdant country. Kara was blushing scarlet.

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” said Lena.

She had to do this before she lost the nerve. She rushed around the kitchen island and rushed to Kara’s side, pressing a hand on her shoulder, and rose up on her tippy toes to press a kiss to Kara’s cheek- or rather, the side of her mouth, just this side of a real kiss. Kara went stock still and Lena thought for a moment that she’d done something terrible, misread the moment, but she could roll it back, play it off as a friendly gesture.

A hand, soft as silk and warm as honey, cupped Lena’s cheek and tilted her chin up, so her gaze met the boundless depths of Kara’s eyes, so full of welling emotion that Lena could drown in them.

“Wait for me.”

“I will.”

Then she was gone, giving herself back to the tempest outside.

Lena waited for her. It was hours again. The snow finally slowed, the sky beginning to lighten as the artificial snow weather patterns shifted back to normal and nature reasserted itself. The city would be in for a shock- it was going to be in the seventies by the next day.

Kara looked utterly worn out when she came back, finally, trudging down from the balcony with her shoulders slumped and her hair hanging in ragged wet clumps from her head as her cape drooped with moisture.

“You waited,” she said.

“I did. Let’s get you dry, huh?”

Lena worked a towel over Kara’s head, more than a little jealous as the effortless way her golden hair formed those beautiful lose curls as the water was wrung out of them, giving her a salon perfect finish with absolutely no work.

One that was done, Kara merely had to remove her suit to shed the rest of the water in a puddle at her feet, leaving her standing there in sweats and a cute fluffy kitten shirt that she had first ironically gifted to Lena and then stolen back, but only after Lena had worn it a few times.

“I’m so tired,” said Kara.

“I know, darling,” said Lena. “Plenty of places to get some rest here. J’onn made his superhero hideout cosy.”

“I don’t want to rest,” said Kara.

Lena’s heart began to pound. She knew deep down that she wanted this, but it seemed so distant and remote that she’d nearly given up even fantasizing about it. Now that Kara had revealed her identity, she no longer changed her posture or body language around Lena and stood tall, shoulders reared back and her lithe, impressive physique on full display even in cheesy loungewear.

Kara took the first step, drawing up into Lena’s space and crossing an invisible boundary, once first laid out over a brunch that was both tense and pleasant, and had been pushed and stretched and nearly broken so many times it could hardly be said to exist at all, and yet the moment she did, it was clear what was happening.

Kara was not putting her arms around Lena’s waist in a platonic gesture. The embrace she pulled her into was not what friends are for. The natural way they slotted together and Kara brushed her lips against Lena’s to ask permission was in no way friendly.

Lena rose a little on the balls of her feet and turned whatever this was into a real kiss, and Kara kissed her back. Kara’s hands roamed down over Lena’s backside before she realized what she was doing and the shot back up to a chaste spot on Lena’s back, prompting her to giggle into Kara’s mouth.

“Miss Danvers,” said Lena, “did you just grab my ass?”

“I… umm…”

Lena grinned. “Yes. Just say yes.”

“I actually wanted to ask you out on a real date first.”

Lena snorted. “Kara, we’ve been on a date for five years. Now, pick me up and carry me somewhere private already.”

Grinning, Kara picked her right up off her feet.

[alienzil]

Coffee Strong Enough to Wake the Dead (or to Summon Them) 

Prologue

“That’s it?” Tim asked.

“This is the only dangerous bit,” Constantine said while slipping the small statue into his pocket. 

Constantine had recently contacted Batman about a potentially dangerous magical artifact going up for auction. They had managed to acquire the artifact but it came as part of a rather large collection. 

“And what about the rest of it?” Tim fired back. Tim was a bit cranky, sue him. Bruce was busy with the Justice League so Tim was the only one available to attend the society auction to bid on the artifact. He’d had to spend all day yesterday smiling and making small talk at the auction, he hadn’t had a night off in almost two months and now the batcave looked like a wizard’s garage sale. 

“Use those detective skills to look up the nearest charity shop?” Constantine replied with a smirk. “Or toss them in the bin.” 

“Nothing else here is magical or potentially dangerous?”

“Ha, no. Complete fluke there was anything worth anything in there at all. The rest of the lot is just trinkets. Nothing dangerous or valuable. Anyways, now that this is taken care of, I’ve got a pint at the pub with my name on it.”

Tim looked over the various items already halfway planning to shove them in the attic for lack of a better plan. His eye caught on a beaded bracelet with a medallion charm. He picked it up and ran it through his fingers liking how it felt. “What about this?” 

Constantine sighed, annoyed at the delay. “It’s just a bauble mate.” He took it out of Tim’s hand and briefly glanced at it. “Ah, this. Some group of morons got it in their heads they could summon the King of the Infinite Realms a while back. Tried to make enchanted summoning charms to pass out to their followers. Thought if they got enough people together holding these little things they could pull the king through. Didn’t work of course. Pretty sure the head of that particular cult wound up an accountant last I heard.”

“So it doesn’t do anything?” Tim pressed as Constantine passed the bracelet back.

“King of the Infinite Realms has been locked up for centuries, kid. The worst it can do is clash with your outfit. Now I’m off.”

Tim watched Constantine go then looked down at the bracelet. He shrugged and slipped it on his wrist. Why not? It was just a bracelet and he liked it. Plus, he wasn’t exactly going to be trying to summon a deity from another dimension with it now was he?

[mr-jack-letterman]

AAAAAAND WERE BACK with more Subway to Stardew silliness NSNNDD.

Thank you to the folks over at @subwaytostardew for making this wonderful mod and letting me make silly art about it lol.

In any case time for some headcannon nonsense.

(click for better quality because Tumblr makes it crunchy)

If Stardew Valley were to have a box legendary I think it would be Cresselia. It's literally Lunar pokemon and represents the crescent moon so it being the patron legendary of Stardew Valley just makes a lot of sense to me. Also Cresselia is underrated NSNDN.

Maybe there would be a secret special encounter for Darkrai. (the other half of it and Cresselia's duo but is a mythical for some reason?)

Also the Lunar wing would be very neat item to have in-game ANSNDND.

If it were to exist within the mod I imagine the farmer would be like "oooo shiny feather. Maybe it's a pokemon feather? Emmet/Ingo would probably like it :D" so then they make it into a necklace, or maybe just give it to one of them outright without knowing what it is. So Emmet/Ingo sees it and just starts freaking the hell out cause their crush/friend just gave them a piece of a literal legendary pokemon meanwhile the farmer is just....clueless NSNDND.

Now onto some of the other characters.

As basically the resident nurse joy of Pelican Town I think Harvey would have some pokemon common in the medical field. Though, pokemon like Chansey and Audino don't really fit his whole "whiskey neat, coffee black, bed at three"/ref vibes so I thought Indeedee would be best NSNDNND.

I also decided to give some pokemon to the characters mentioned within my ask.

Willy is very fond of water types, clearly NSNS. Specifically fish pokemon like Lanturn, Seaking, Whiscash, Wishiwashi, or Dondozo. (Though his actual team probably has a good chunk of pokemon that are still water type just not fish lmao) The crowning jewel of his collection is a shiny Magikarp he fished up. Maybe one day it will evolve, but for now it just swims around the docks next to his house entertaining anyone that visits.

He also has a Bibarel. (which I imagine is the grown up version of that one Bidoof that snuck into Pelican Town) It acts more like an overgrown housecat than a battle ready pokemon but it is incredibly bulky so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯.

Morris also has a few pokemon of his own. Most of which he keeps at home. But his main two he's seen with is a Gimmighoul and a Gumshoos. (IDK he just has Gumshoos vibes to me NSNDNND) They run around Joja pickpocketing people's gold cause Morris is just a dick like that.

"It's Wizard time mother fucker, FIREBALL-"/ref

Wizard likes psychic types, but I like to think he also has a fondness for fairy types too. Also, most of em has at least one strong fire type move just so he has an excuse to yell "fireball" and blast something NSND. His Malamar is named Illithid (a wack squid monster guy from DnD lol)

Sandy likes rock types, given that she lives in a desert it's probably the only type of pokemon she sees on the daily lol. She also has a key stone on her earring. With how colorful a keystone is when compared to sand I think she would be the most likely to find one there. Idk exactly if she'd mega evolve an Aerodactyl or a Tyranitar, if any pokemon at all. But I think she'd carry it around regardless. It's pretty :]

Also she has a shiny Rockruff. I don't rly have an explanation for that one I think it just fits the vibe lol.

And now, shenanigans.

Emmet then proceeds to grab the child and just.... speed walk away HSBBDBDJJR.

That's all I have for now, I'll probably throw some other pokemon at the bachelorettes and other bachelors another time but this alone took a solid week due to finals 😭/lh

Time for me to go to bed lol, have a good one 👍

[river13245]

hii :D

i’ve a request, could u write kili durin x male!reader where the reader asks to braid kilis hair not realising that it’s courtship in the dwarfish culture. kíli has the biggest crush on the reader and takes this as a sign that the reader likes him back. the reader did not realise that’s what braiding a dwarfs hair means and was also totally oblivious to kilis crush on him and never noticed he was flirting and always assumed he was just very friendly, but obviously the reader likes kili back and it’s just total fluff 😋😋

thank you smm 💞💞

Braids and Courting

Kili Durin X Gn Elf Reader

Being an elf wasn't as great as some beings would think. Of course with being an elf there was skills you had to learn, that were useful. The long and beautiful hair, the soft skin, the pointed ears and the youthful look. All those were great of course.

What wasn't that great was being part of the higher class elves. This meant that eventually you would have to marry and usually you didn't love the person next to you. It was just part of the routine in everyone's life. However you didn't want to wake up next to someone that didn't love you. Or someone you didn't love.

So that's exactly why you left home when you did. It wasn't long before you met Gandalf the Wizard. Him knowing who you were of course, because that man had a lot of knowledge after all his years of living. He had stayed with you for a bit, and it didn't take him long until he invited you to join the group. Of course you could never say no to an adventure so you agreed.

That's exactly how you ended up right here. You had been with the group of dwarfs for a long while now. Even before the hobbit came along and joined you guys.

You were fairly close with fili and thorin, those two were like your best friends. The others you were like a family with except for one. Kili who was filis brother, he was someone you felt strong feelings for. Feelings that go past platonic or familiar feelings. No these were feelings of love, however you never knew how to express these types of feelings because you never really saw it being done.

Over the span of time there had been many moments where Kili had done very sweet things. Things that made your heart pound and your stomach feel weird but of course you thought it was just him being friendly.

-----

Walking around with Thorin in comfortable silence as you both looked for another path was interrupted when you hear someone join you. Turning to look who it was you saw Kili beside you. He looked up at you and held out some berries. "here I had a feeling you would be getting a bit hungry around this time. Have some of these, I have extra"

He grabs your hand and places the berries in your hand. "thank you but don't you need them?" Kili shakes his head "No take them" he squeezes your hand gently before walking back towards his brother. Leaving the quiet thank you that left your lips just drifting into the air.

It was too dark to see the faintest of smile form on Thorin's lips as you go back beside him and eat the berries that Kili had given you.

-----

There had been many times like this

There was one day when all of you had found a big field of flowers. You were so focused on drawing the scene. You liked to draw pretty things and so you were sitting by a tree drawing on a piece of parchment with a pencil you had brought.

In fact you were so focused you didn't even notice how Kili had been picking flowers and making you a flower crown. Eventually when he was finished he came and sat next to you. You rested your head on his shoulder for just a second before looking over at him "hi Kili"

Just the sound of his name coming from your lips made him smile. "hi y/n" he replied before grabbing the flower crown he had made you. "here put this on. Have to see if it fits"

You lower your head a bit so he could place it on your head. It fit perfectly and when you sit back up and look at him. He smiles and nods "perfect, it looks good on you" You smile and blush very softly. "thank you" he nods and walks away.

When he is a good distance away his brother. Your best friend comes and sit on the other side of you. "how long are you going to be blind to the fact that my brother is infatuated with you?" The shocked look on your face makes him laugh. "what? what do you mean, infatuated?"

He looks at you and sighs "You cant tell me you havent noticed the way he always makes you things and gives you things. Always making sure your cared for" Your silent for a moment before it all comes together. "oh"

Fili places his hand on your shoulder "i will let you decide what to do with this information" He gets up and walks away leaving you to think about what to do.

Kili had made something for you and given you things so you decide you should do something for him. You've recently noticed that he has been pushing his hair out of his face more frequently than normal so you decide you would braid his hair for him. Just so its out of his face.

You get up after putting your things away back into your bag. Then begin to walk over to where Kili is. When you get to him he notices you right away and looks at you. "hey Kili. Could you come sit with me for a moment?" He nods and walks with you and sits against the tree next to you.

"everything okay?" he asks a little worried but when you give him a nod and take a breath to calm yourself. "would you mind if I did your hair. I've noticed you pushing it out of your face a lot recently and id like to help?" He looks at you for a moment before turning around.

"what are you going to do with it?" He asks

"i'm just going to braid it. I promise I will make it look good" you reply

Kili looks straight ahead so you don't see the smile that's forming on his face. In the dwarf culture braiding hair is a sign of courtship. He didn't know if you knew that or not but either way he decided to play it cool. Not wanting to make you uncomfortable and you stop.

You kneel behind him on your knees to get in a more comfortable position. Then you begin to gently get all of his hair and pushing it back so you can split it into three sections. Once its in three sections you begin to twist them all with each other, braiding his hair very nicely.

Kili was sitting there patiently not saying much. But you do notice the way he rests his head against your hands. His whole body seems to relax under your touch and a sigh escapes him when you begin to gently massage his shoulders.

When you are finally finished you pull away and he turns around and looks at you. "thank you" he says and you nod. "you look very handsome Kili. I hope you will let me do it again sometime"

He nods and brings your hand up to kiss the back of it. "of course, you are the only one ill let touch my hair." You smile and nod "great ill be honoured" when the both of you get up and go your separate ways Kili gets a few looks since most of them know what this means.

You on the other hand are pulling your bag back over your shoulders. Doing your own thing, when Thorin walks up to you. "y/n" he says which causes you to look over at him. "Thorin"

Thorin looks at Kili and then back to you. "i'm assuming that you are the one that braided his hair?" You nod in response "yes I am, is that a problem?" He shakes his head "no of course not. I just have one question, Do you know that braiding a dwarfs hair means you are courting them?"

A smile forms on your face, no second thoughts are needed. "I know that now. And I find myself rather pleased that people will know that the both of us are together" Thorin smiles and nods placing his hand on your shoulder. "well its about time" he jokes a bit.

This causes you to smile and decide to tease him back. "how about you and the hobbit? When will you two decide to court each other" Thorin blushes very lightly and shakes his head "I don't know what you mean by that"

"mhm sure you dont" you say with a smirk before walking up to Kili. This time instead of standing beside him, you slip your hand into his and hold onto it. From that day on everyone knew that the two of you were spoken for.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Dragon Jack Fantasy AU Headcanons

So, I know that Jack’s fursona is a snake, because he wants warm cuddles his sunshine won’t run away from, which is where we get naga Jack, but what if he was a different sort of mythical creature?

No, not an incubus, but you can check out my incubus headcanons here and here. I’m talking about a different fantastical creature that still has a few scaly features.

It’s the year of the dragon, and that got me thinking about a certain piece of absolutely gorgeous artwork my friend Mars made back in August, which in turn made me think, dragon Jack AU?

Dragon Jack AU.

Oh hell yeah, let’s get fantastical.

Credit for this beautiful artwork and fueling my inspiration goes to the marvelous Mars, who you can find over here on tumblr and on twitter. Please consider popping on by to leave a kind word or two. Trust me, you won’t regret looking at all of her jaw-droppingly stunning art!

Content warnings: There is going to be spice in these headcanons, and it’s going to get a bit kinky at times. I mean, we’re talking about Jack as a dragon getting frisky with his sunshine. Bad Dragon didn’t get its name for nothing after all. Oh and there’s also some dark themes like going insane from isolation, families being awful to one another, exploitation of workers, bullshit politics in a medieval inspired fantasy setting, deadly monsters attacking people, yandere obsession, that sort of thing.

Overall it’s going to be pretty lighthearted, especially in comparison to the super dark and angst-filled hurt/comfort story that I recently posted, so this post shouldn’t get more intense than the game itself.

The Cursed Prince

Let us begin this AU with the tale of Sunny Day Jack, a poor soul who was damned to be left alone and forgotten by all who knew him. In this case, that place he was left to be forgotten was a castle in the middle of a dark and twisted land, bound by a curse that not even the strength of a dragon can break.

Jack wasn’t always this way. Long ago, he was someone grand, a prince by the name of Joseph, though not in line for any sort of throne. He was the spare of the spare, the unwanted and unneeded family member who was a risk to the true heir to the crown. He had to learn how to be strong and cunning to survive the castle politics, while at the same time he was overlooked and ignored by all.

Initially, Joseph tried all he could to earn favor with his family, to be loved by them, but no one cared. Because his family didn’t care about him, and he had no “purpose” in existing except as an obstacle to the heir to the throne, others often ignored him as well to not risk showing favor and appearing to side with him against the current forerunners to the crown. Acting out and creating mischief that the royal family couldn’t ignore was the only way for Joseph to get people to pay attention to him.

Unfortunately, Joseph pushed his luck one too many times. He ignored a family member’s warning that it would be best if he lived as a dead rat, forgotten and unseen. An assassin struck in the guise of a tutor during one of his lessons. He barely escaped, but uncovered a terrible truth. The family he always hoped might someday truly see him and love him had been behind the assassination attempt. How many members of his family were involved in the plot, he never knew for sure, but their indifference and disdain for him left him with no one he could trust.

The unwanted prince was then forced to flee the kingdom, never to return. Joseph lived as a wanderer, hiding his identity. He changed his appearance as much as he could, even stealing a potion from a wizard once. Sadly, the potion he stole could only change his hair from brown to blue, but it was better than nothing, and he quickly grew fond of the look.

Yes, blue hair is something natural in this setting. This is a fantasy world where dragons and magic exist after all. We can have people with anime hair and eye colors. ;3

The unwanted prince learned the ways of the world firsthand and took many names as he drifted along like the wind. No longer a spoiled prince, he learned how to put on a smile, to placate people instead of antagonize them. He was still alone, forced to be a wanderer until he was far, far away from his homeland, but eventually he tried to set up roots. There, he took a humble job as a jester for a noble, hoping that maybe he could find a new life, one where he could be seen and loved.

Fortune smiled on Jack, as more and more people came to watch his shows, and he earned the stage name of Sunny Day Jack. His performances with silly jokes and stories with sound moral lessons delighted the children. Nobility took notice of him, and he started to make real connections and a real life for himself in this distant land. The lord ruling over the country even eventually took notice of him, a rich and powerful ruler that could afford to throw plenty of gold this entertaining jester’s way… provided he was always entertaining.

Sadly, his good fortune was not to last. Jack got too much attention from the nobility, and a traveler familiar with his homeland took notice of how eerily similar the jester looked to the lost prince.

Word eventually got back to those who saw Prince Joseph, however unwanted and overlooked he may have been, as a risk that could not be accepted. His popularity, however frivolous, made certain people of power nervous that perhaps one day he might return and lay claim to the throne of his homeland.

It was during a performance that the world came crashing down around Sunny Day Jack. The lord that favored him and helped him most with his fame and acclaim had betrayed him to his homeland in exchange for more riches. The trap was sprung as Jack stood before a crowd of hundreds, a sudden accusation ringing out that he was a notorious criminal who had done several heinous acts while the knights of the land came at him in force to arrest him. He barely managed to escape, though not unscathed, his new life destroyed and forever sullied to all who knew his name.

This time the pursuers were relentless. Jack wasn’t known here as a prince in this foreign land. There was no one who would show even a token loyalty to his royal blood and aid him. He was now a heinous criminal, wanted dead or alive, with none willing to give him shelter. There was no way for him to use his former name or royal bloodline to gain assistance, as Prince Joseph was long since declared dead.

Jack was a clever man, and a clever man who has nothing left to lose is capable of anything, including mutually assured destruction. His time as a jester wasn’t spent as a simple fool. Though he tried to be sincere when forging his friendships, truly wanting a life of happiness where he could be loved for who he was, he had tasted betrayal once, and it cost him everything but his life. Sadly, he was prepared should this happen again. He learned how to be charming, and he used his appealing and kind nature to learn secrets that might help him one day.

One of these secrets Jack learned was of magic treasure that the lord’s family guarded and exploited for generations. He also learned of a few secret passages in the lord’s castle, which helped him to elude his pursuers. With nearly all the knights put to the task to capture or kill the escaped criminal, this left the castle vault’s security unusually lax. It granted him an opportunity that could save him, or damn them all.

There in the vault was one of a set of golden cuffs, the symbol and pride of the lord’s family, and the very thing that allowed them to take dominion over the land generations ago and rule to this day. These cuffs were said to possess a magic too powerful for any one person to control, so no one dared to wield more than one at a time, but the truth was that if anyone was foolish enough to do so, they would unleash a terrible curse that would doom the land. This was why they were kept separately, for the safety of everyone.

These cuffs have their own history to them, as a fae was tricked into creating them, a bargain for power and a price not yet paid, which was the reason behind their curse. I could ramble on about ideas I have for how they came to be, but their backstory doesn’t really matter to Jack… yet.

Betrayed, branded a criminal, his hopes for a new life dashed to pieces, and everything spiraling out of control, Jack managed to break into the vault and steal the golden cuff hidden there. Before word of the theft could spread, Jack repaid the lord for his betrayal, launching a surprise attack and stealing the other cuff before it could be used by the lord to fight back against him.

With the power of both of the golden cuffs, Jack defeated all the knights that came for him, but the power he used went out of control as the curse took hold. The power was too much for a human’s body to contain, so it changed him into a fierce creature that was made of magic, a dragon.

The land around him changed as well, the natural ley lines of magic in the land exploding out in all directions and birthing all sorts of monsters from cracks in the earth. It was chaos, and those that could fled. It was a terrible night of horrors so great that survivors who witnessed the apocalyptic destruction dared not speak of it. Over time, the plants in this tainted land grew strange from the saturation of magic, and what few animals that braved to remain in this twisted land were changed as well. The land, once prosperous and full of smiles and laughter, became a dark and foreboding place where humans refused to linger long, for fear that they too would be cursed and forever changed.

Years passed, and with the survivors refusing to speak of what happened, all traces of what happened the night the kingdom fell were lost to history. The name of the country was lost as well. The place was only known as the dark woods now, named for its twisted features and the heavy clouds that covered the land and hid it from the sun. Speculation of its creation sprang up over the years, the details growing more fanciful from storyteller to storyteller until it became only myths. The closest to the truth was that the fae had regained the land and turned it wild, which, in a way, they had when a clever but desperate prince turned fool unleashed the fae’s curse that had long been kept at bay.

What happened to that foolish prince? The curse kept him bound to the heart of the land, making it nearly impossible for him to stray far from the castle where he unleashed the curse. The more he struggled to escape, the more ways the curse would manifest to bind him to the land, chains erupting from the ground to hold him, thorns of an unnatural, cold substance blotting out the sky, monsters birthing from the land to hold him back and inflict pain on him until he could no longer fight back.

Jack had become a powerful dragon, but his power came from the very curse that turned the land into his own personal hell. His body was warped, a scaled monster with wings and horns, terrifying to behold. Those who saw him would flee his presence, save for those that tried to slay the beast that legend has it is the heart of the curse.

The dragon of the dark woods, unnamed and feared by all, was known as the master of the dark woods, dangerous and cunning. Adventurers that dare risk going into the cursed land for its materials rich in magic are wary of the great and powerful beast. Its scales gleamed of fire, its eyes spoke of endless hunger, and its power was unmatched. None could hope to slay this beast, and all who tried all failed, for only the curse itself is more powerful than the beast it created.

Despite it all, Jack struggled to hold onto his humanity. He read every book in the castle, every scroll and scrap of paper, desperate to learn the way to undo this curse he unleashed. Naturally, this was difficult for him to do with giant claws, but unfortunately for the former prince, he had nothing but time to learn how to use his altered body.

As the world forgot about the lost prince, the sunny jester, and the awful day an entire kingdom fell along with the names of all three, Jack started to forget his humanity bit by bit. He didn’t learn how to break the curse, but he did learn of other magical artifacts that had been gathered in the castle long ago, including an enchanted belt that would allow him to change his form into whatever he pleased. He used it to become a “human,” but by that point he didn’t quite remember what he used to look like. The passing years eroded his memory of humanity, and he had gotten used to his imposing dragon body. The result was a form that was a mishmash of both, a humanoid man with scales, a tail, wings, claws on his hands and feet, pointed ears and fangs, with horns and blue hair.

Jack might have started to forget things over the years of solitude, but he was at least certain that he had blue hair when he was still human.

Funny enough, no matter how large or small Jack became thanks to the magic of the belt, the golden cuffs remained fastened to his wrists. The curse wouldn’t allow them to be removed, only warp in size and shape to match whatever form his body took. Even if he were to, say, transform into a copy of a different person to fool someone, his golden cuffs would give away the ruse.

When Jack learned how to transform back into a “human,” he went through the motions of being a human in his empty castle filled with riches that were all but useless to him. He wore clothes again, even learned how to alter the fancy clothes left behind to suit his tastes. He learned how to cook the strange plants and animals of this cursed land. He no longer had any need to eat due to the magic of the land sustaining his flesh, but food still tasted good, and there was some satisfaction to be had from creating something. He kept himself sane with what hobbies he could, learning new things, but he could never learn how he could free himself from his lonely hell.

The presence of adventurers into the heart of his land was both a blessing and a curse. It was rare that it happened, and in fact it was several years after the land changed that anyone dared to venture into the dark woods for fear of being cursed for doing so. It was years more before they found its master at the heart of the cursed land.

At first, Jack was elated. He tried his best to be friendly, overly so, desperate for company and help, but this was before he found the belt that made him at least passably human. It had been so long since he had been around another human that he hadn’t tried to speak, and with his draconic muzzle, all that came out were terrible growls and unholy noises. The adventurers that found him only saw a great horned beast with claws and fangs, another monster to slay for materials, riches, and acclaim.

Jack never wanted to kill anyone. He learned to fight when he had to, though he tried to avoid killing if he could. Unfortunately, when he unleashed the curse, people perished in the chaos, much to his dismay. Though he tried to approach these adventurers peacefully, he would not allow them to cause him further suffering. His power was so great that it was difficult to hold back, so the damage he could cause was severe. He would let those who fought him live if he could, allowing them to flee, but none saw this as a mercy. He became a nightmare spoken in hushed whispers, a challenge for adventurers to overcome, rather than a lost soul desperate to be free.

In a twisted way, over time Jack started to look forward to anyone brave enough to venture into the heart of the dark woods, even if the result was always violence. It was always a rare thing due to the intense danger of the dark woods. Certainly, they would always try to kill him, but at least he got to spend time with another human being! Being alone messes with a person’s mind, especially for such a long time. Humans are pack animals not meant for solitude.

Sometimes these adventurers would leave stuff behind, and Jack kept them. Dragons have an instinct to horde, and the castle is already filled with treasure. Plus they were reminders that humans were still out there and that someday, hopefully, he’d join them as one of them once again.

Jack tried his best to learn how to talk with his new body, to sound friendly instead of fierce. Unfortunately, oftentimes he found himself getting the opposite result, the words coming out of his muzzle sounding strange and uncanny, which only added to the nightmarish legend of the master of the dark woods.

Every encounter with Jack was a battle more fierce than the last, and the dragon’s legend only grew. His attempts to follow after the humans who fled from him led to the land itself stopping him, and others would be caught in the crossfire. To Jack, the humans that came to visit him were his only hope, and he would struggle harder against the curse to escape, to be with them. This made the curse fight back even harder in more brutal ways, summoning worse monsters. Soon the heart of the dark woods was known as a hellish place, where the land itself would turn against you if you tried to escape its brutal master that hunted you relentlessly.

Over the years, humans adapted, as they often do. Adventurers learned to stick with the outer fringes of the dark woods to harvest materials. It was the least dangerous, relatively speaking, and what could be gained deeper in was not worth the cost, especially if they strayed to the heart of the land where its terrible master lay in wait for any poor soul to enter.

It’s been a long, long time since Jack has seen another human, and he’s slowly going insane from solitude. He does what he can to distract himself or escape, trying desperately to hold onto his humanity, but it erodes bit by bit with each passing year. Even gaining the ability to transform into a “human” form hasn’t stopped his ever steady decline into madness. He fears that one day he might lose his humanity completely and become the mindless monster that those who fought him believed him to be.

Perhaps all that Jack and the dark woods need to heal is a little bit of sunshine.

Beyond the Dark Woods

Outside the fringes of the cursed land, time marched on. Years went by, rulers came and went, borders changed as land was annexed or reverted to wilderness. A lot can happen over the decades, especially in a fantasy world filled with magic, monsters, and mischievous fae.

How long Jack was trapped alone in the dark woods is a mystery. Maybe it’s 40 years, or perhaps a lot longer than that.

Regardless, the homeland that once had a lost prince named Joseph is still around, a relatively stable country all things considered. In fact, it had grown over the years thanks to annexing land from other countries that had been weakened by the results of the curse. Monsters often wandered out of the dark woods, putting nearby villages in danger and impressing the need for more adventurers to cull the monsters that threatened human life. What was once a kingdom had grown into an empire, growing prosperous with its many strong knights and adventurers, though like any place, it had its own share of problems.

But enough politics, let’s get into the other characters, shall we?

MC is a knight, as demonstrated by the lovely Thea in Mars’ art. Well… they aspire to be a knight anyway. Bullshit politics have kept them as a squire to a knight of higher nobility since they were a teenager. It’s been over 10 years already! How much longer do they have to wait to become a knight? They’re sick of having to polish and shine Barry’s armor, and if they have to scrub his codpiece one more time…

Yup, Barry is a knight in this AU, though only technically. Nobility sometimes get granted a knight title for some reason or another, usually as a token to honor them and/or their families. These nobles usually  were just knights in name only, parading around as if they’re this grand figure when other knights did the real battling. They can play the hero without ever actually having to go into battle and send squires to do the menial work for them.

In a sense, Barry is a rich man who bought a title because it was cool, and he makes a big show of it. It’s pretty much a vanity project, and a way to increase his clout to maybe move up in the ranks of nobility. He has MC announce his presence grandly, something just as over the top as the greeting to Yogurtopia. Perhaps something like… “Announcing the great, honorable, and very handsome and still very single and looking for a bride, Sir Barry of [insert surname here].” Or something like that, maybe with his noble title thrown in there for good measure. Maybe he could insist his squire plays a horn first…

Man, even with a proclamation heralding Barry wherever he goes, no one is interested in him. He hasn’t had a date in way too long. Maybe he needs his armor to be polished a little brighter.

While MC isn’t Barry’s only squire, they are the one often left doing the work, as other squires slack off or wind up getting elevated to knight despite being younger than MC is. It’s understandably really, really frustrating for MC. They come from a lesser noble house, just barely above a commoner, so they’re an easy mark for any higher ranked noble to rub the power difference in their face.

Really, it’s all enough to make MC consider quitting to become an adventurer. Sure, adventurers are basically mercenaries for hire at the guild and the jobs can be infrequent, and money can be hard to come by, but… Ah, who are they kidding? The squire job might suck, but at least they get the security of steady pay, regular meals, a place to sleep, mild prestige, and they don’t have to go camping in the woods for days on end hunting some specific monster or harvesting a certain number of rare herbs.

Besides, MC admires the knights (aside from Barry). Their best friend became a knight a few years ago, lucky dog. Still, Shaun didn’t rub it in their face like the pal he is. Shaun looks so regal in his shiny silvery armor, even having it adorned with pretty badass etchings and other decorations. There’s a very feline feeling to it as well, since cat daddy has to be cat knight in this AU. Hey, I don’t make the rules.

…Oh, wait. :3c

Anyway, the other knights can be pretty cool as well. There’s this one knight who has been friendly, though MC doesn’t know his name yet. The guy acts strangely shy when they’re around, which is confusing to them. They’re just a squire after all, not a cool knight in studded leather armor like him.

Poor Nick has a crush on MC in this universe too and is pretty tongue tied around them. MC might still be a squire, but there’s just something about them that lights up a room. Their spirit isn’t crushed despite the fact that they should’ve been a knight years ago. He envies how easily Sir Shaun can chat with them.

Of course, Shaun is in the same boat as Nick, in that he also has a crush on MC and can be pretty clumsy with how he tries to express it. Still, in spite of this, he would have tried to see if they could be something more if not for a certain scandal that happened.

The reason why MC is still a squire, or at least one of the biggest reasons, is because of rumors that they were the secret lover of Prince Ian, the current heir to the throne.

Of course, given that MC is barely above a commoner, the idea of them getting together with the crown prince is scandalous. They got to know each other as children, with MC serving as a page to play with the young prince. When the queen caught wind that the prince saw them as anything more than a playmate in their teen years, their relationship got exceedingly strained.

Ian is in love with MC, and they felt the same, at least at one point. All the time they spent together while growing up led to fondness, then sweet first love. Unfortunately, they knew early on how their different stations meant that the chances of them being together were almost non-existent. This led to a lot of mutual pining, moments where they were tempted to act on their feelings, and some secret encounters between the two.

In spite of the queen’s interference separating them, MC and Ian saw each other in secret as much as they could. They started a forbidden romance together, and the two of them convinced themselves that maybe, somehow, they could defy the odds.

But the weight of the crown hangs heavy on the head. As Ian was swept up in his duties and the time he would be crowned as king drew ever closer, he had less and less time to spend with MC. His mother’s interference certainly didn’t help, especially since she was trying to get him engaged to a high ranked noble woman to ensure that he would be able to sire the next generation of royalty.

While yes this fantasy world is far more open with gender expression and loving others regardless of gender, nobles tend to be uptight when it comes to making sure their bloodline and power continues. Plus Ian’s mom is still abusive and controlling of her son in this universe too, and she uses not only religion to bully Ian but politics and duty as well. As queen, she has a lot more power too, and a lot more flying monkeys to spy on her son and interfere.

In a way, it’s lucky that the queen hasn’t decided that MC is a threat that must be entirely eliminated at all costs. No assassination plots… yet. Mostly it’s interference and petty revenge by forcing MC to remain a squire instead of a knight. She could throw MC out, but then how can she occasionally be petty if MC never comes to the palace? MC might be Barry’s squire, but everyone follows the queen’s orders, and a narcissist needs attention and others to bow down to them.

Unfortunately, the queen’s schemes did succeed. Ian, in a moment of weakness, fell for the seductive charms of one of his potential fiancees. He felt awful for betraying MC, to the point that he had to see them despite the risk of his mother catching them, so that he could confess what he had done and beg for forgiveness.

MC’s heart was broken, but what was worse was that it became a huge scandal. Someone had seen Ian’s confession and begging, and soon word spread like wildfire. Now everyone knew that they had secretly been lovers and that the prince was begging a mere squire for forgiveness. Ian’s reputation took a hit, while MC’s outright tanked due to the scandal, and things became much harder for them, and people have been keeping their distance from the squire that dared think they could become a future king’s consort.

Since then, MC has kept their distance from Ian as much as possible, and Ian, reluctantly, has given them space, knowing that he’s messed everything up for them. But… when he’s king, not even his mother will be able to stop them from being together. When he’s king, he’ll be able to fix everything. He just has to do what he can to make sure that happens. Then he and MC can finally be together in the open, stations be damned! Then he can truly make amends and be forgiven for what he’s done.

Shaun was there to support MC with their broken heart. While his becoming a knight has put a bit of distance between them, as he has more duties to attend to, including being sent away on missions for the country, he makes sure to keep in touch and meet up with them as best he can. Anyone who dares to say a bad word about MC in front of him is getting this cat’s claws.

Nick is no stranger to scandals. He’s basically the most popular knight in the realm, with countless admirers. Perhaps they could offer MC a word or two on how to deal with so much unwanted attention and rumors rumbling in the background.

A Squire’s Quest

Now, how does Jack factor into MC’s life without a compelling VHS tape to tie them together? Well, the instigating factor in this universe is that a thief made off with an important treasure, and Barry the knight was tasked with retrieving it. As Barry’s squire, MC was compelled to come with him to assist, which usually meant doing 99% of the work if there were no other squires with them at the time with Barry taking all the credit. But don’t worry, he only does it because he knows they’ll do a good job at it, and it just shows that they’re one step closer to becoming a true knight!

After traveling quite a ways, tracking down the thief (with MC doing most of the work picking up the trail in the first place), the pair realize that the thief went into the infamous dark woods.

Well, that’s not good. Sure there are areas that have been explored for materials, but still… the cursed land is quite dangerous. Barry decided that the best way to divide the work is for MC to continue to follow the thief’s trail, as they were better at tracking, and he, being much better at supervising and dealing with people, would see if anyone nearby could get information about what the thief might have been after, maybe set up a trap that MC could chase the thief into.

MC had to seriously consider their life choices up until this point, but if they quit now, that meant kissing goodbye to the stability they had going for them. Also, it’d probably bring dishonor to their name, maybe damage their lineage permanently, and so on and so forth.

Well, if they quit to become an adventurer, they’d have to do stupid things like trek through the dark woods anyway. Besides, the thief already stole a national treasure, which meant they weren’t stupid enough to go hunting for the invincible dragon guarding the heart of the forest, right? Sure there’s rumors that maybe the dragon guards the greatest treasure of all, but no way the thief is that dumb. No one’s actually ever seen any real treasure, or have a consensus on what the supposed greatest treasure is actually supposed to be.

After a hard internal debate, MC ultimately decides to brave the dark woods, tracking the thief stealthily. They may only be a squire, but they would probably be the greatest knight in the kingdom if not for politics. Their exact combat style is up to interpretation and personal preference, but they’re no stranger to slaying powerful monsters. They’re also used to Barry giving them unreasonable demands like this one.

And, hey, at least they’re not mortifying themselves by singing Barry’s praises when he enters a room while they’re busy with this stupid quest. That’s got to count for something, right?

Right?

Yeeeahh, okay, MC is obviously just lying to themselves and they know it, but damned if they do, damned if they don’t. They swear to themselves that they’ll only go as far as the hunting expeditions usually travel into the forest. If the thief really is stupid enough to go to the dragon’s lair, MC will just circle back and just tell Barry that the dragon probably just killed the thief, or something. No way they’re going to risk getting eaten by an unstoppable dragon.

These thoughts are a small comfort  as MC follows the thief’s trail. Occasionally they have to fight magic-tainted plants or monsters. Their skill shines despite the dark gloom of cursed woods. They even get some nice materials they can sell for some extra cash. Maybe being an adventurer wouldn’t be too bad a gig after all…

Just then the loud noise breaks the eerie calm. Some sort of explosion. Magic? Fireworks? Regardless of what it was, it riled up something. That something is big, nasty, and charging right at them! In fact, it’s a lot of somethings! A pack of creatures got aggravated, and MC is forced to run!

Now, was this a natural occurrence? A bit of misfortune? Did the thief make a false trail to trick MC into going on ahead while they secretly doubled back and used a small explosion to make the monsters go nuts on MC while they used the commotion as a cover to make their escape?

Perhaps. Perhaps. MC certainly isn’t in a situation to figure out which of these possibilities it was at the moment though, as they’re too busy running for their life, inwardly cursing Barry, the queen, the thief, and anyone else that annoyed them lately. If they knew they would die today, they wouldn’t have held back last week when that one jerk stole their cinnamon roll. They would’ve at least had the satisfaction of telling them off for it!

Sarcasm and sass are a good way to cope, but MC knows full well the gravity of their situation. They quickly lose the trail back the way they came, forced to do battle with creatures that are in their path while avoiding being overwhelmed by being so outnumbered. It’s only through a mixture of skill and sheer dumb luck that they manage to survive.

And by dumb luck, I mean that they fell into a catacomb through a ruined ceiling that was keeping it hidden underground.

Well, shit. From bad to worse, right?

Nothing for it, MC is forced to find a way out of the catacombs, then somehow find a way to leave the dark woods without another group of monsters going aggro on them.

Piece of cake. Noooo problem. They just have to avoid the castle at the center of the dark woods that the dragon supposedly uses as its lair, and they’re fine. An old crypt with some undead ready to pop out is better than an unstoppable dragon. Right?

As you may have guessed, MC is, in fact, going in the direction of our lonely dragon prince. Is it just bad luck? Is it some sort of intuition or instinct drawing them to Jack? Are they bound together by fate? Is it some sort of spell Jack has cast that compels humans to seek him out because it’s been forever since a human came by, and he’s desperate for both company and freedom? Maybe some combination of these things or something else entirely. Who’s to say~? It’s up to interpretation/personal headcanon~

In any case, MC is very taken aback when they meet Jack face to face for the first time, as is Jack really. It’s been so long since he’s seen someone. A part of him wonders if MC is actually real. When they get defensive and try to figure out who or what he is, he does his best to placate them, even if they might have their weapon out and ready for battle.

Jack puts his best foot forward, being friendly and welcoming. He invites MC to his home. They look exhausted and like they’ve had a hard time. MC isn’t exactly trusting this at face value, being very guarded about the whole exchange despite how cheerful and friendly this man with wings and horns is being. He’s also getting dangerously close. Should they try to use their weapon to ward him off, like Thea might have done with her sword, Jack is skilled enough in combat by this point to easily redirect her sword with his claws.

Oops, that put Thea off balance. Don’t worry, her new pal Jack is quick to catch her before she takes a tumble.

“Careful, we wouldn’t want you getting hurt, would we?” Jack said, his tone playful.

Despite MC’s skills, they are hopelessly outmatched by Jack. He has far more experience with combat, and he has the insane powers that the curse granted him.

Of course, MC is pretty quick to put together that Jack is the invincible dragon that rules the dark woods, which means that they’re utterly screwed. Strangely enough, Jack isn’t really acting like the monster people whisper about. It’s almost enough to make MC wonder if they aren’t mistaken, but the dragon features and his overwhelming strength kind of gives it away. The fact that Jack brings MC back to his castle pretty much seals the deal.

So MC is stuck as a guest with Jack. The dark woods are too dangerous for humans to wander around alone, especially at the heart of the forest. He’s curious about MC and why they would take such a risk, very concerned by their recklessness. Why were they there?

It’s an awkward situation, but MC has no choice but to play along. How much they resist or comply depends on the MC. I figure Jack indulges even a very resistant MC due to how lonely he’s been. He can easily disarm any attempts to attack him or thwart them from getting away, so they pose no threat. He has all the time in the world to convince MC to lower their guard.

And Jack is just so… so nice. It’s hard not to find him charming. He seems so concerned about MC, and they’ve been having such a hard time with, well… everything. The castle, despite being old, has been maintained decently well. The rooms are decorated so nicely, filled with clothes for them to wear, and the food Jack makes is fantastic. Holy crap, his cooking is out of this world!

Really, the longer MC stays there, the more it seems like there’s nothing Jack can’t do, and their stay is kind of like a vacation in ways. Given how much time he’s had to teach himself new things, it’s no wonder he has become something of a jack-of-all-trades.

I make no apologies for that pun.

Here then comes the classic conundrum when it comes to Jack - does MC fall for his charms, or remain suspicious and hold him at arm’s length? They’ve been feeling pretty lonely and beaten down by life for a while now, and Jack seems almost too good to be true. It’s not like he’s keeping them captive, but they’re in the heart of the dark woods. Outside this castle are some of the worst, most dangerous monsters imaginable. Jack can protect MC if they stay there in the castle with him, but he can’t go very far from the castle, so he can’t help them leave the woods. That is why he’s keeping them from leaving the castle. You know, aside from not wanting to lose the only company he’s had in so many years.

Jack is right about the danger, unfortunately. Whether MC tries to slip away from the castle or just scopes out the surroundings via a window, they find that it’s surrounded by monsters far too dangerous for them to handle alone. There’s no way they could make it, and if they tried, they’d only survive thanks to Jack coming to their rescue.

Of course, Jack acknowledges that MC is powerful. He saw them try to attack him if he did, or he just can tell in simply because they made it all this way on their own. It’s just, well, there’s only so much anyone can do on their own. Sometimes we all need a friend to help us out.

If Jack could leave, then he could help MC leave too, but he’s stuck in the castle. He’s been there for such a long, long time.

Whether his tragic plight is enough to make MC sympathize is, of course, up to the individual. I do know my gal Alice is going to want to help him after hearing him out. Being trapped in this awful place by a curse is a fate she wouldn’t wish on anybody.

Not to mention helping Jack would help MC leave the dark woods. There’s no threat he can’t handle after all. They’d be getting their own personal dragon bodyguard.

Perhaps with a pair of fresh eyes and more knowledge of the state of the world, MC will have better luck figuring out how to free Jack from the curse. Maybe they’ll just play along to not upset their super powerful host so they can escape. It would certainly take time for MC to really trust Jack, even if he seems so friendly and kind… and, they have to admit, this place is lonely and very unsettling for anyone to stay in, even if Jack has tried his best to make it look nice. It’s certainly creepy to be alone here in the heart of the dark woods. The castle is better than the woods full of monsters, but still…

Anyway, the interactions between MC and Jack are up to the individual to decide. Romance the dragon, or flee from the dragon in the end. Being stuck together can bring a sort of fondness, and Jack falls in love. It makes him determined to never lose MC, ever, so he falls down the yandere path, which can lead to some pretty obsessive moments depending on the choices made.

As for the alternate love interests, after Ian receives word that MC disappeared in the dark woods, he sends knights on a quest to find and rescue them, despite the queen’s interference. This of course includes Shaun and Nick, who are the first to volunteer for the rescue mission. Despite the queen’s meddling, not wanting to waste manpower on a thorn in her side, Ian finally takes a stand against his mother for the sake of MC and their love, and the expedition is sent.

Unbeknownst to the knights, Ian sneaks along with them in disguise. He can’t just sit back and wait while MC is in danger. He can’t let them down a second time. He’ll prove to them, and himself, that he’s truly worthy of their love.

From there it’s trials and tribulations of the guys trying to rescue MC from the dragon… provided that MC still wants to be rescued by the time the guys reach the castle.

Really, in order for all of the love interests to spend time with MC and interact, perhaps Jack will be brought back with them somehow, like he found a loophole in the curse or a way to bind him to MC. That way, Jack can leave the forest, so long as it’s with MC, with the added bonus that he can’t stay too far away from his sunshine. It’d create something of a dynamic similar to the game, only in this case everyone can see Jack and learn that he’s an incredibly dangerous dragon that has the power to kill all of them if he so chooses. Not that he would ever! He’s MC’s best friend after all. He just wants to protect his sunshine.

Though chances are MC will want to hide the whole “dragon” thing if they decide to leave with Jack. Maybe coach him on how to better pass for a human. Best not to scare people, am I right?

Or this AU could just stick in the castle where MC chooses to either romance the dragon or flee the dragon. I know which one Alice is going to choose, regardless if they stay in the castle or go back to civilization.

On that note, let’s get to the part that I suspect you’ve all been really waiting for.

(S)laying the Dragon

With Jack being a mythical creature, that offers possibilities for a very kinky fun time. There’s his obvious features like his sharp teeth and claws, but there’s also those long pointy ears that are perfect for nibbling, and maybe offering a bit of emotional expression in the way they tilt. Then, of course, there’s the tail and wings, perfect to wrap around his sunshine. He’s got even more limbs to hold them close!

Now… dragon anatomy is pretty much whatever we want it to be. Bad Dragon has the name for a reason after all. Want dragons to have two dicks similar to snakes? Go for it. He could still have that while he’s in his “human” form too. In fact, with a belt that allows him to change his shape, he could alter himself in very fun ways. A funky fantasy dick with ridges and/or bumps? Perhaps some tentacles anybody?

I mean, Jack has been alone for a long, long time. He’s only had himself to entertain and experiment with. He might have some very kinky tricks that no one has ever tried before.

To be fair, the tail is probably prehensile, so it might be able to be used like a tentacle for sexy times. He might not even need a second dick to plug up all of MC’s holes at once.

Dragons tend to have long tongues, so french kissing Jack is going to be intense, especially if it’s forked too. Then of course there’s oral. Naturally, he’ll be careful with those sharp teeth of his. Well, unless MC is into something a little rougher. Jack doesn’t want to hurt his sunshine (humans are so fragile after all), but if they like a little pain, well, their good old pal Jack will oblige them!

In my personal fantasy headcanons, pointy ears and the base of wings and tails are sensitive erogenous zones. Nibble on Jack’s ears, please! Preen his wings and make him feel loved and cared for. Rub at the base of his tail, and he’ll get hard instantly.

The scales might be harder than armor, but they’re nice and smooth, and have a nice feel. Jack has some control on just how hard or soft his body is at a time due to the belt’s power. Unless otherwise requested, Jack is very gentle with his sunshine, worried about going too rough due to how easy it was for him to hurt others.

Of course… Jack is also so desperately lonely and horny. MC’s presence has been his only bright spot in so long, and he loves them so much. When they love him too… well, it was already so hard for him to hold himself back. It wouldn’t be that difficult to rile him up and make him start to lose control, struggling to hold back his power even as he tosses MC around and takes them.

Naturally, many of my personal sexy headcanons for Jack apply in this AU. This includes a breeding/seeding kink. It’s a bit more pronounced here. If MC has his child then they’ll never ever leave him after all, and they’ll be bound together forever and ever and ever. Even if a child is off the table, the act of breeding/seeding alone is enticing, making them beg him to take them and fill them up with his hot cum is something that he fantasizes about often.

Of course, Jack doesn’t simply want sex with MC, he wants to make love. They make him feel truly loved for the first time in forever. Did he ever feel so loved before? He wants to experience their love in every way he can, fill them up with it until he’s a part of them forever.

Jack won’t ever force his sunshine, no matter how desperate he is for their love or to make love. He’ll go crazy with need, but always hold himself back if they need him to. As long as they love him, he can take care of himself sexually like he always has. He’s just been so empty, alone, and unloved for so long. MC fills them up with love in a way that he can’t live without anymore.

Naturally, when the pair do start making love, Jack can’t get enough, and his stamina is insane. MC is without a doubt going to be the one passing out first after they’ve been fucked senseless with Jack thrusting inside them, babbling how much he loves them and how good they make him feel. The more they go on, the more feral for their love Jack becomes. He’s needed his sunshine so, so badly, and now that he has them and their love, he can’t live without them anymore.

Of course, with a dragon AU and a shapeshifting ability, you can get really creative. For one thing there’s his full dragon form, which would be a giant compared to MC. Size difference anyone? Plus the exact details of how Jack looks in his dragon form could offer interesting possibilities of its own.

Then of course there’s even more furry-related kinks like oviposition or stuff like that. It's not for me personally, but I can imagine Jack would be open to experimentation and indulging in MC’s kinks, even the more outrageous ones. After all, it’s all just more ways to show just how much he loves his sunshine~

You best believe Jack has a predplay kink in this universe. He can smell MC and track them down easily. If that doesn’t work, there’s all sorts of magic he’s learned over the years that can do the trick. Of course he doesn’t want to scare MC, but when it’s good fun, it can lead to a delightfully spicy time~

While I’m on the topic of Jack smelling MC, he is addicted to their scent. The smell of their pheromones easily riles him up, practically sending him into rut like an alpha from Omegaverse!

Naturally, since Jack is a dragon, he has a horde. The castle was loaded with treasure, and it is pretty and shiny. It looks nice all piled together, maybe even neatly decorated. No doubt he’ll want to make love to his sunshine atop a pile of shiny gold coins and jewels, though he’ll make sure that he’s on the bottom so they don’t get jabbed by the hard edges… unless they’d like that, of course.

Of course, the true treasure Jack is hoarding in his lair would be MC. Gold and jewels are nice, but they don’t hold a candle to the love of his sunshine~

Wow. I think this is the longest headcanon post I’ve ever made while sticking with neutral MCs for the most part. I think I’m long overdue to shamelessly self-indulge with my OTP. Let’s see how Alice’s choices will affect this AU and how events unfold, shall we?

Lady Alice of House Rose

Naturally, Alice can’t have the surname of King in a setting like this, so I’m going to use her middle name as the house name.

Fun fact, Rose is the middle name for Barbie and Coraline too!

Yes, that means Barbie’s full name is Barbara Anne Rose King.

Yes. Yes, that pun was indeed intentional.

No, I will not apologize. Her name was picked to be a pun in the first place after all. ;3

Anyway, back to Alice. Being the eldest child, she has the responsibility to elevate the status of her household. Not only are they barely nobility, but their finances aren’t in the best shape. She needs money to help her family, and the honor of being a knight in hopes of gaining a better title.

It’s a shame that the queen doesn’t care for Alice and she’s been stuck as a squire way longer than is reasonable.

Alice knew that it would be impossible for her to marry a prince like Ian, no matter how kind he was, or how close they were. She couldn’t avoid falling for him though. It made her more determined to earn a better title, to make something of herself and earn acclaim. Maybe if she became the greatest knight in the kingdom, maybe she can prove herself worthy of royal consort and be with Ian as his wife one day.

Alice busted her ass trying to be a knight despite all the rough training and being forced to work menial, often degrading tasks as a squire. The weapons she specializes in are the bow and magic, combining the two to devastating effect. She’s also very good at keeping quiet and being stealthy.

In this universe, Alice never had sex with Ian. Although this fantasy setting is more open about sex before marriage, the gap between her and Ian was so wide, she didn’t want to risk doing anything that might ruin their chances of being together. That’s why finding out he cheated broke her heart, regardless of them being physically intimate together. Worse, his outburst when he begged her for forgiveness made it sound like they had been sleeping together to those who overheard, and the rumors were very unkind to the two of them, Alice especially.

Ian cheating proved to Alice that she was only fooling herself that they could be together. Their worlds were too far apart. Ian was to be king someday and she… well, maybe she’ll reach the title of Baroness. Though Ian begged for forgiveness, and Alice gave it to him, she couldn’t go back to the way they were. Advice from Shaun and others helped her see that it was best for everyone involved that she simply remain as the loyal (future) knight and Prince Ian as only her liege.

Let’s skip ahead to the mission to catch the thief in the dark woods. Alice’s best means of combat is the stealth kill. She sneaks quietly, sets up magic traps, fires arrows when the enemy is unaware, and in general takes her time to take her enemy at her own advantage. She actually works pretty well as a solo fighter due to being so stealthy. Though she is good at hand to hand combat if need be, she prefers to strike before her enemy realizes she’s there, and she’s amazing at her skills. Why, if she put her mind to it, she could be a skilled assassin. (Or in another world, a sniper.)

The horde of monsters the thief set off to charge after Alice was almost her undoing. By the time she fell into the catacombs, she passed out from exhaustion, having drained her mana dry. She might have been doomed if a monster came upon her then, but fortunately the master of the dark woods found her in time.

Alice was pretty darn shocked to wake up in a surprisingly fluffy bed, with her armor removed. Not all of it fortunately. She had her modesty protected and her softer clothes still on, but the uncomfortable hard outer plates were removed so that she could sleep peacefully. Jack was apologetic about removing any part of her clothes without asking, even blushing about it, but he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable while she recovered.

Needless to say, Alice is wary of Jack at first, but he did save her life. She does piece together that he’s the dragon pretty quickly and is naturally wary, deciding that the best course of action is to rest up, heal, and carefully get information from the legendary master of the dark woods.

The rumors and legends are so varied, it’s hard to know what exactly is the truth. The dragon of the dark woods doesn’t even have a name, and some of the tales are clearly exaggerations. Since Jack is showing himself to be surprisingly friendly, and he saved Alice from certain death, she decided to trust him… at least enough to remain civil and learn more about him, the castle, and the dark woods.

After asking many questions and getting as much information as Jack can give her (though much of it is confusing due to how rusty he is with socializing), Alice agrees to help him find a way to break his curse. She’s taking a risk, but if she leaves the castle on her own, she’ll die. If she stays, she can keep an eye on Jack to see if he’s really as good and gentle as he presents himself to be. If she has to, she’ll find a way to escape without him if she gets the sense that he’s using her to escape the forest in order to conquer the world or something.

Being very good at sneaking, Alice does slip away to search around the castle for answers on her own as much as possible. However, Jack can’t stand the idea of losing track of her, and all it took was one time of losing track of her for him to leave a magic tracker on her discreetly so he can find her wherever she goes - for her own safety of course! He can’t stand to be far from her. He has to give her time to herself, since if he leaves her with no privacy she won’t trust him, but it’s so hard to stay away. He’s so lonely.

At first Jack’s feelings for Alice are platonic, just a lonely man in desperate need of friendship, but over the time they spend together, getting to know one another, he falls in love and falls hard. Alice, naturally, takes much longer to fall after her relationship with Ian fell apart. At first, Jack is someone she can’t quite trust because he’s a stranger, then she is cautious because he’s a powerful dragon with many unflattering legends about the monster that he is, then it’s concern for the power imbalance between them… but eventually she sees that he’s just a lonely, sweet dork who just wants a friend.

Of course, Alice won’t realize he wants much more than friendship until later. Jack doesn’t want to scare her away after all.

I don’t think Shaun, Nick, and Ian are just going to sit back and wait long to try and find her, but I want to give Alice and Jack plenty of alone time, so I’m going to go with the idea that when humans come deep into the heart of the woods, at first Jack is excited. More friends! Then he becomes fearful when he realizes they’re looking for Alice. They want to take his sunshine away. She’ll leave him, forever!

Well, that won’t do. Jack doesn’t want to hurt them, but he can just make it difficult to find the castle. Maybe use the power of the cursed land to rearrange the forest when the search party isn’t looking, mix them up so that they find themselves suddenly outside the woods. Jack might not be able to leave due to the curse, but he’s not known as master of the dark woods for nothing. He can wield the golden cuffs’ power however he likes, just he can never leave.

Jack just needs to divert them long enough that they give up and leave, or he can find a way to escape with his sunshine’s help. Alice knows many interesting spells, being very creative with magic in ways that he never thought of before, and she knows of things that he doesn’t due to coming from outside the woods. With her help, he is able to figure out a way to free himself from his imprisonment… provided that he remains close to his sunshine. It’s more of a change in the curse than an actual cure for it, but it’s a vast improvement! He can leave the dark woods! Finally! At long last! He can converse with more people! He can make friends! He won’t have to be left alone and forgotten in the dark anymore!

Of course, Alice helps Jack prepare to be around people by helping him refine his “human” form. People aren’t going to understand that the deadly dragon of the dark woods is really just a sweet marshmallow, practically a giant cuddly puppy in human-ish form! When Jack can master looking properly human, they can come up with a cover story that he was a wanderer that found her lost in the woods and helped her until she could get back home. It’s not a lie technically. He used to be a wanderer after all, and everything else is true. He’s been nothing but helpful to his sunshine~

So Alice has to hide the secret of her new dragon friend, who has made it his mission to win her heart. Jack is willing to wait for her to be ready to love him the way that he loves her, even if the wait drives him crazy, but he’s very territorial, not liking the way the other guys look at her. However, Alice does notice his more possessive behaviors even as he tries to remain subtle about them, and she makes sure to keep her new “pet” dragon on a tight leash. Jack is fine with that so long as it means he’ll stay close to his sunshine.

I’m going to say that the change to the curse to bind them together does cause an empathy connection because I really love empath magic. Plus, allowing the pair to feel each other’s emotions and even pleasure and pain is very intimate. When Alice realizes they now can sense each other’s pain as a result of what she did, Jack makes it clear that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe so that she won’t have to experience any pain. He’ll promises to protect her for the rest of his life.

Of course, such a declaration leaves Alice feeling rather flustered. ;3

Overall, it is a bit more of a slow burn than Sunshine in Hell, but eventually the two of them fall in love, much to the dismay of the rest of the male leads.

Naturally love will overcome the curse, because I am an absolute sucker for happy endings. Jack and Alice will find a way to break the curse and remain together so they can live happily ever after. And make love like rabbits hopped up on viagra.

No, I won’t apologize for that pun either.

It won’t come too easily, of course. There’s plenty of people who aren’t going to be keen to immediately trust Jack, and not just the male leads. He came from out of nowhere, with no known background. Alice’s family is certainly going to be concerned by the stranger that waltzed into her life after her heart was already broken by Ian, especially since by the time they meet Jack, she’s already shown signs of crushing on him. The family is going to need to make sure that this new guy is worth potential heartbreak.

Then of course there’s the whole political aspect of things. This country used to be the very kingdom that Joseph was chased out of many, many years ago. The lost prince is a story that could be uncovered to potentially explosive results.

Why, if Jack had the mind to, he could take back the throne and rule the kingdom that once chased him away… with his sunshine ruling by his side after all.

Will that happen with Alice? Maybe. Maybe she’ll actually become a queen after all, or maybe she’ll just live a simple life with Jack who doesn’t let on that he’s powerful enough to level the whole kingdom. After all, all he truly wants is to be loved, and Alice is sure to give Jack all the love he could ever ask for.

Perhaps that love will wind up with a lot of adorable half-dragon babies running around. Though they could be fully human if Jack does become a human after the curse breaks. I kind of like the idea that Jack is freed of the curse, but he is still a powerful dragon and can still use the belt to have fun with his shape. Plus baby dragons are the cutest and the idea of Jack and Alice’s kids being little dragons with tiny wings and cute pointy ears heals my soul.

…Holy crap this ramble went on for 26 pages. That’s over 11,000 words according to google doc! This must be my longest ramble yet, and that’s saying something! Well, I suppose that’s what happens when a dragon lover makes a dragon AU, haha. Fantasy has always been my jam, and I love playing with magical elements.

Anyway, I’m going to take that as a cue to wrap things up here for now. Let me know what you think about this AU and if you want to hear more about anything in particular. Also, let me know if this post inspires you to create anything of your own and please share it with me! I love it that we can inspire one another to create in this fandom, just like Mars’ lovely art inspired me. I hope I’ve given you a few new fun ideas to play with. Thanks for reading this far!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[gingerbreadmonsters]

better half

or: here comes the... um...

gn!reader, strong language and innuendo, good old-fashioned fluffy stuff. my undying love and gratitude to the gang over on discord who have kept me sane for the last two months or so - @zozo-01 @pinksparkl and @autisticempathydaemon i would be LOST without you!! a veritable tropefest of all my favourites - just don't ask me when it's set, i beg. astarion taking matters into his own hands in 20,700 words or less.

“No, no, do go on. And the marigolds?”

Dear gods.

“Well, they’re a fine variety, to be sure - and fresh as anything, just come in this morning from-”

It was the right thing to say - the man keeps talking, voice lifted slightly over the bustle of the market as he chatters on about petal density and stem texture and who knows else. You’re only half-listening, nodding along and making encouraging little noises whenever he starts to run out of steam, but you’re not really paying attention.

You’d only come to this damned city in search of some complicated magical artefact that Gale’s been wanting - according to him, there’d been an auction back in Waterdeep not long after he left, and the nobleman who’d bought it arrived back home here just a few weeks ago. As luck would have it, he’s throwing a party in a little less than a tenday’s time for a bunch of the city’s rich folk, so naturally you’ll be taking advantage of the distraction to quietly sneak in and steal the artefact when nobody’s looking.

Or at least, that had been the plan, until closer inspection had revealed some pretty nasty enchantments protecting the manor from intruders. Gale and Shadowheart had both had a look, and agreed that while they could probably break them, given enough time, it wouldn’t exactly be discreet - rather, it’d probably set half the house on fire or something equally ridiculous. You’d all been standing around a few streets away, trying to figure out a plan for how exactly you were going to pull this off, when-

Really, now. Did they teach you idiocy at wizard school, or did it just come naturally?

You’d turned, surprised - Astarion, appearing out of thin air and self-satisfied as ever, swanning past Gale with a dismissive flutter of his fingers. I don’t suppose you’d know, but some of us have actually been to parties before.

Ignoring the affronted squawking from behind him, he’d dropped an expensive-looking roll of paper into your surprised hands, before looking down at you expectantly. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be an invitation to the manor, addressed to some minor lord you’d never heard of.

How on earth…? You’d been shocked at his good fortune - what are the odds he’d run into someone carrying an invitation for a party that’s happening days from now? Where did you-?

All taken care of, darling, he’d said dismissively, even though you could see the smug smile tugging just slightly at the corner of his mouth. A word in the right ear is a wonderful thing. We won’t be interrupted, believe me.

It had been that sort of smile - you’d said a silent prayer for whatever poor soul he’d lifted the invite off of. ‘We’?

Please. As much as I’m sure Lae’zel would love to spend an evening hanging off my arm - he’d dodged the kick to his shins with infuriating grace - I think we both know that the answer is obvious.

He’d gestured to the paper in your hand - ah. You hadn’t seen that part.

What say you, dearest? he’d said with a bow, taking your free hand with a princely flourish and laying a delicate kiss against your knuckles. Shadowheart had rolled her eyes at Astarion’s antics, mouthing something at you from over his shoulder before turning to start herding the others back towards the tavern you’re staying at. Fancy an evening as my beloved?

Obviously, there was no way this could possibly go wrong. You’d replied with your best Astarion impression, gasping in theatrical shock and trying desperately not to laugh. You could at least ask me properly, you know.

We’ve no time for courtship, sweetheart, he’d groaned as if in pain, kissing further and further up your wrist, your forearm, your elbow. I simply must have you - and tonight, no less!

Tonight? At least wait ‘til we’re wedded, dear, you’d gasped in return, smacking him in the shoulder and utterly failing to hide your grin. I’ll have the ring first, then we’ll see.

Conniving little magpie. He’d said it like he’s any better, the bastard. Is that how I’ll win your heart, then? Dangling sparkly trinkets over your head, putting a shiny ring on your finger?

The others are long forgotten, vague shadows in the street. If it were from you, my lord? Nothing would please me more.

He’d raised a single, silver eyebrow, something unreadable sitting just behind his smile. Nothing, you say?

Well. You’d shrugged as he laughed at your faux-serious expression, looking him up and down with an exaggerated leer. I can think of at least one thing…

He’d been about to reply, but you’d caught sight of Karlach halfway down the street behind his shoulder, leaning over to Wyll and whispering something with a chuckle. At that distance, you hadn’t been able to make it out, but that’s what vampires are for - Astarion’s jaw had dropped theatrically with an indignant I heard that, you-!

An unapologetic middle finger from Karlach, and an outraged huff from Astarion as he took your arm and started after them. Defend my honour, won’t you, my love?

For sweet Astarion, paragon of innocence? Dragged laughing after him by the elbow, you’d not really had much of a chance to protest, but it’s not like you were going to anyway. Why, always.

Yesterday evening and today have been dedicated to prepping the pair of you for this little mission, and you really can’t tell if you’re more excited or terrified of the whole thing. Is it a bad idea? Yes. Is it a ridiculous solution to the problem? Yes. Are you going to do something that inevitably gets you both discovered and kicked out of the house empty-handed at best, or run through with something sharp at worst? Almost certainly.

That being said…

What’s the right way to put it? It’s not good for you, to be doing this. It’s not going to do you any favours. It’ll be nice at first, but when the glamour falls away, it’ll hurt even more than it did before.

You like him. Or maybe you don’t. Or maybe you’re scared of what liking him might mean, so you’re trying desperately to convince yourself that there’s nothing out of the ordinary about the way you like him. It could mean anything, the way your eyes always seem to fall upon him first. It could mean anything, the way any joke you tell isn’t funny unless he laughs. It could mean anything, how his voice makes your stomach drop and his smile makes your lungs hurt and his fingers on your skin make you want to tear your heart in half.

He’s something else entirely. The sting of his fangs in your neck, the comforting way he sits in the corner of your eye. This is going to destroy you.

For what it’s worth, the others have been doing some intelligence gathering on this nobleman that Astarion’s supposed to be. Wyll and Halsin ventured out to one of the nicer parts of town last night to see if anyone might have drunk enough to spill anything good, while Shadowheart and Karlach had been making the rounds of some of the… less respectable establishments to try and dig up what dirt they could.

According to their collective notes, he’s one of the younger sons of a relatively unknown house somewhere up north, and he was due to arrive yesterday on some sort of business for his father. It can’t be for anything too complicated or expensive, seeing as a wealthier house would probably have a more famous name, and likely wouldn’t want to be seen sending a fourth or a fifth son as a negotiator.

He seems to be a fairly private figure - no especially distinctive features, and no particular public scandals or habits that Karlach or Shadowheart could discover, which is definitely good news for Astarion’s cover. Gale didn’t recognise the name in a magical context, and Lae’zel hadn’t heard of them as a notable military house - altogether, it’s likely that they’re probably a merchant family that’s come into money through trade, as opposed something like land or banking or politics.

Unusually, he seems to have brought someone with him - the invitation is addressed to him and a nameless betrothed, but none of you have been able to find anything out about them whatsoever. Nobody’s seen them, or heard about them, or even seems to know their name. As far as the people of the city have let slip, they might as well have never existed. Astarion had even said as much when you’d asked him.

I mean, he certainly didn’t look the type, he’d said, grimacing faintly as he pictured the man he’d pickpocketed. I’m more than aware that travelling can be a thoroughly unpleasant business, but really. If he does happen to be affianced, as you say, then I do pity the poor creature - it was barely the afternoon and the man reeked of alcohol.

An easy target, then, you’d replied with a grin. Please tell me you left him with some gold for a place to sleep last night.

He’d made a face, waving a hand dismissively. Oh, don’t be ridiculous, darling. He’ll be halfway home by now, I expect, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

A few seconds had passed.

What? I’ve told you before, I can be very persuasive-

And the fiancé?

You’d been able to feel the headache coming on already. No. No, you didn’t.

…Ah. He’d had the good grace to at least look a little bit sheepish. I, um-

You mean you sent him home without the fiancé? Who I’m supposed to be impersonating? By this point, you’d had your head in your hands, already picturing the myriad of ways this could so easily go wrong. Who’s probably going to turn up at this stupid party and tell everyone that w-

No, no - none of that now, dear. It’ll be fine, I promise you. He’d not sounded entirely sure, but you’d grudgingly let him shush you, featherlight pressure on your shoulder. I’m sure this fiancé - you know, are we even sure there is a fiancé? That it wasn’t conjured up at the bottom of a bottle? The fool was practically pickled - I’m telling you, darling, it wouldn’t be out of the question.

I’ll pickle you in a minute, you’d grumbled, not entirely joking. If we die, I’ll kill you.

Oh, my love. I look forward to it already.

“You know, I had a gentleman come by, not half an hour ago, swearing up and down I’d got these confused with the peonies - peonies! Can you imagine!”

Startled out of your daydream, you’re left blinking back at the man in hapless confusion. “Sorry, come again?”

“Well, that’s just what I told him - but apparently…”

The flower seller launches right back into his monologue, and you’re starting to wonder if there’s a reason nobody was looking at this stall when you arrived. Curse these ridiculous noble types and their ridiculous fashions! Wyll had taken one look at your - admittedly somewhat slender - wardrobe and declared that none of it would do, either for the sin of being far too cheap or terribly out of vogue. Fortunately for your wallet, you’d collectively been able to cobble together something halfway decent out of bits and pieces your little group had thieved over the last few weeks.

Unfortunately, they don’t exactly fit too well, so you’ve been sent out to get it all tailored into something suitably expensive-looking to wear. Astarion, true to form, had jumped at the chance to take you shopping, although you couldn’t tell if it was because he’d been dying for the chance to indulge in a little retail therapy at your expense, or just all of the various trinkets and knick-knacks he’d be able to swipe from unsuspecting merchants.

Oh, and you mustn’t forget about our little ruse, dear. Who knows who might be watching?

And thus, you’re stuck at this damned flower stand where he said he’d meet you, trying desperately to avoid whatever increasingly-unsubtle flirtation the flower seller aims at you, and really wishing you’d brought a book. Maybe that would have distracted you from the horrible, twisting feeling in your stomach at the thought of what might happen when he does show up.

Is it going to be weird? Oh, it’s a stupid question - it was always going to be weird, doing something like this with him. Acting as though you’re faking liking him, pretending to have to pretend, the double-triple bluff. It’s bad enough as it is, heartstrings all stretched and sore from the weight of keeping it all inside - but to be allowed to indulge, just this once? Falling into the fantasy of what could never be, letting yourself believe for a long, golden moment that he might actually love you the way you dream of. You’re afraid you’ll snap completely.

To be honest, the waiting isn’t helping. He’d rambled something last night about having some sort of business nearby - what sort of bloody business could he possibly have in a town he’s never seen before? - and that he’d catch up with you by the flower stall by mid-morning at the latest.

Naturally, that means that it’s nearly midday and you still haven’t seen hide nor hair of him, one eye on the crowd as you stare absently at the colourful buckets of flowers. The noise of the market all around you, the sun in your eyes, the mild breeze that’s more hot than cold - you were right, you definitely should have brought a book or something, because where in all the hells is that blasted-

“There you are, dearheart!”

Your head whips to the right at the sudden weight of a cool arm around your waist, pulling you to the side. Surprised, you’re already reaching for the borrowed dagger at your hip, only to be met with-

“I - oh, darling!” Before you really know what’s happening, you’re swept into an uncharacteristic embrace, face-to-face with a slightly-harried, definitely-late, maddeningly-beautiful Astarion. Hurriedly, you paint on a smile, looking up at him with what you’re hoping reads as blissful excitement. “Back so soon?”

“Soon?” He takes you at your word, the bastard, like he wasn’t supposed to be here hours ago. “Oh, it’s never too soon to be with you, my sweet.”

It’s infuriating, how your heart stutters at the rakish grin he gives you as he says it, at the thought - fake as it may be - that he might actually mean it. Pressed against him like this, strong hands keeping you close as you steady yourself against his chest, it’s even worse than usual. Can he hear it? Does he know?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the flower seller trailing off clumsily in the middle of his sentence, clearly now at something of a loose end. He settles for reaching down to adjust one of the displays, but you can feel his eyes on you even while he pretends to look away.

He doesn’t suspect something, does he? No, he can’t - why would he even be suspicious? He doesn’t know that this isn’t real.

Astarion must notice too, diving down to kiss your cheek so lightly that it almost tickles - you make the mistake of letting the involuntary laughter show on your face, and immediately regret it when it means he goes right back in for another one. Then another, then another, dipping you further and further back and smothering your protestations in kisses that shouldn’t feel as good as they do.

“Wh-hey, hey - darling!” Embarrassed, you struggle against him, trying to escape his hold, but it’s no good - he’s just too strong. “We’re - this is hardly the time-!”

He relents slightly at that, bringing you back upright and turning you around to face back towards the flower stall, before draping himself over your back and locking his arms once more around your middle. Somehow, it’s even worse than before - now you can definitely see the awkward flower seller, trying not to stare at the absolute mess that you two must be right now.

“Mmm, my apologies for the interruption,” Astarion mumbles against your throat, thoroughly unrepentant, and you can feel him smile as he kisses over the soft, tender space where his fangs normally go. “You were saying?”

You wrack your brain, but there’s nothing there except the swirling, flustered mist that fills your mind whenever he gets this close. What would you say, if this were real? Blindly, you reach for something to say - anything, that might get him off your case. And your neck.

“Did you, um-” You pause, stumbling over the words slightly. He probably doesn’t want all and sundry knowing what he was up to before he arrived, and he probably isn’t going to admit it anyway. Better to just make it part of the charade from the start.

“Did you find anything good?”

“Mm, nothing much,” he hums, fingers tracing tiny spirals across the front of your shirt. “A little bit of this and that, you know how it is.”

Okay, great, a total non-answer. Good to know that he’s really trying to make this act believable.

  “Very well. Keep your secrets.” You turn your face away in faux-offence, before softening with a smile as a petulant hand comes up to turn your chin back towards him. “Did you at least get everything you wanted?”

“Really, dear,” he huffs, soothing the blow with a barely-there kiss against your temple. “Can’t a man have any secrets from you?”

Gods below, he’s up to something. If your brain wasn’t too busy melting into goo, you might even wonder what it is - alas, you just have to settle for discreetly elbowing him in the ribs.

“Of course not,” you reply matter-of-factly, even though the words make your heart ache just a little bit. If only it were true. “What’s yours is mine, and all that.”

“How could I forget?” Sweet hells, he says it so softly, like he’s trying to make it hurt. “As if I could ever be free of you, my love.”

You roll your eyes, even as you lean back into his chest - you’re vaguely aware that you were supposed to be doing something, but you’ll be damned if you can remember what it is. “You make it sound so appealing, you know.”

“Do I? It’s not on purpose, I assure you.”

You gasp, hand limp against your forehead in a mock-faint. “Rude.”

“All part of the plan, darling,” he says, nonchalant, and it’s ridiculous how it does actually make you feel better. “For a prize as lovely as you? I have to find some way of keeping you all to myself.”

You’re about to respond when the flower seller clears his throat awkwardly, evidently not really sure what to do with the pseudo-couple flirting incessantly in front of his stand - you jump slightly at the reminder, feeling weirdly like you’ve just been walked in on.

Astarion, meanwhile, remains annoyingly unfazed - when you turn to look at him, he’s… smiling? No, not quite. It’s less of a smile and more of a smirk, but not his usual one - and yet you can’t quite put your finger on why it’s different.

“Go on, then,” he prompts you, nudging you gently in the side. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend here?”

“Right, right, um-” Shaking your head slightly, as if to clear it, you smile as brightly as you can at the flower seller. Fuck, what did he say his name was again? “Love, this is - oh, this is…”

“Osric, sir.” The man comes to your rescue, tipping his cap in Astarion’s direction with a friendly smile. “Pleasure to be of service to you both.”

True to form, Astarion meets him with a flat, haughty stare, seemingly unimpressed. “Charmed. Now, sweetheart, I believe we were just on our w-”

“Ah - just a moment.” He recoils ever so slightly at the interruption, a tiny tremor that you feel but don’t see. Got him. “I might like to look a little longer.”

It’s only really for show, but you make a point of umming and ahhing over the display, surreptitiously stepping on the toe of his boot as you do it. If he’s going to try and empty your wallet today, as you’re sure he will, you’re not going to let him have all the fun.

“Really. If you want me to buy you flowers, pet, you only have to ask.” Astarion shakes his head indulgently as he catches your drift, rolling his eyes at the young man behind the stall in pretend commiseration. “Trust me to find the one creature in all of Faerûn who’d rather I spend my fortune on dahlias than dinner.”

You twist slightly in his arms without looking away from the flowers, one hand slipping idly up to cradle his jaw as the other drifts over the box of tulips. “But you do it anyway.”

He sighs, exasperated and achingly fond in a way you wish he meant, turning to press a gentle kiss to your palm. “Yes, I do it anyway. Fool that I am.”

You’re forced to step slightly to the side as a lady comes up beside you and starts chatting to the vendor, which gives Astarion the perfect opportunity to dial down the act a little bit. It’s hard work even for you, and you’re not even really faking it - you can only imagine how annoying it must be, having to do all this with someone you’re not actually in love with.

For some reason, though, he doesn’t. Instead he seems to double down, swaying the two of you lightly from side to side as you examine the flowers on display, cold hands warming with your body heat as they smooth absentmindedly up and down your sides.

“Tempted by anything, darling?”

A classic line - somehow, it makes the whole thing easier. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and you know exactly what he wants to hear. “Oh, plenty,” you say, not even trying to hide your grin. “Nothing fit for polite company, though.”

You don’t even have to turn and look - your mind’s eye is enough to see the faux-outraged face he’s making. “Do I look like polite company to you?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

The lady accidentally bumps you with her bag as she walks over to look at some of the other displays, and you can’t be sure, but it almost sounds like you can hear Astarion muttering something under his breath. “I don’t think you want me to answer that, you know.”

“Mind if I answer for you, then?” He waits for you to nod, cautiously curious about what he’ll say, before lifting a blasé hand to the flower seller and beckoning him over with a lazy wave.

“Six of the roses, if you will.”

“Certainly, sir,” the vendor replies with a nod. “Right away.”

What?

Utterly bewildered, you watch detachedly as Astarion points to the colours he wants, some comically cliché blend of red and pink and white. He can’t be doing what you think he’s doing. “What in - what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

A sideways glance, faintly bemused. “Pardon?”

You should probably be more embarrassed about the way you’re tripping over the words, but you’re more concerned with wondering if he’s actually, genuinely lost his mind. “I don’t need - it’s fine, let’s just-”

"No, no, you're right, six won’t do." He’s unmoved by your futile attempt to drag him away, free arm locking around your waist to keep you trapped against his chest as he corrects himself to the flower seller. "Make it a dozen."

“Astarion!” you hiss, as quietly as you can so that nobody overhears. “This is - you can’t just-”

“I’ll have you know I certainly can,” he replies, producing a handful of coins out of nowhere and casually dropping them into the flower seller’s palm. Absentmindedly, you notice that he’s wearing more rings than usual - your eye is drawn to a particularly lovely gold one on his left hand that you haven’t seen before. “In fact - oh, would you look at that? It seems I just have.”

You - he - you’re going to m-

“Do close your mouth, sweetling,” he sighs, eyes bright with concealed mischief, one elegant finger pressing up under your chin. “It’s dreadfully unbecoming.”

Sweetling. You’re going to strangle him.

The excellent retort that you were surely about to give is cut off by the flower seller, bouquet in hand and clearly very amused by the whole situation. “There we are - a dozen roses, compliments of your gentleman friend.”

He’s certainly no gentleman, but that’s hardly the worst of his crimes. Hateful, traitorous creature, that scheming villain, tormentor of your mind and thief of your heart.

“Excellent taste, sir,” the vendor says innocently over your shoulder as you lean forwards to take the flowers from him. “They’re some lovely blossoms, those!”

“Mm, aren’t they just?” Damn it all, you know what it means when he uses that voice - when you turn around, his eyes flick back up to yours with a shameless grin. “And the flowers are rather pleasant, too.”

“I - you-!” Oh, you could just smack him for that - you can guess what he was talking about, and it certainly wasn’t a bouquet. The vendor hastily stifles a laugh behind you as you glare daggers at Astarion, sorely tempted to take a swing at him. “When I get my hands on you-!”

Cackling wildly, he dances out of the way with an annoyingly dignified sidestep, bidding a quick farewell to the flower seller over his shoulder before looping his arm around your waist and sweeping you away further into the market. “Careful there, petal. We wouldn’t want the whole town to know about where you’ll put your hands on me, would we?”

You’re going to kill him. You’re actually going to fucking kill him, and nobody is going to blame you.

“Come now, darling, no need to look so glum,” he murmurs, leading you gently through the crowd. “Don’t you like them?”

Irritatingly, you can’t actually say you don’t. The roses really are stunning, each one beautifully rich in colour, all soft, velvety petals and long, elegant stems wrapped in thick paper. They’re also far too expensive for him to be wasting money on like this, but you know exactly what he’ll say if you try to protest.

Instead, you settle for honesty. Staring down at the delicate flowers in your hands, you let yourself believe, for just a single second, that they mean what you wish they would mean. That he gave them to you because he loves you, rather than as a prop for a foolish charade - that the kiss marks burned into your skin spell devotion, instead of duplicity.

“They’re gorgeous,” you say. “Thank you, my love.”

A sudden, scuffing sound from close by - next to you, Astarion suddenly lurches forward slightly, fingers digging almost painfully into your sides for a fraction of a second before relaxing. If it was anyone else, you’d say he’d just stumbled over his own feet. But this is Astarion you’re talking about, fleet-footed master of thievery and rogue extraordinaire, so that can’t be what just happened.

There’s a momentary pause, before-

“You’re very welcome, dearheart.”

He says it softly, low and unusually sincere. You don’t want to think about why. “And for what it’s worth, I do think your blossoms are really rather lo-”

“Alright!” You cut him off before he can finish the sentence - that’s quite enough about your blossoms, thank you very much - and practically drag him after you, bouquet cradled in the crook of your arm as your other hand reaches down to grab his. “No need to lay it on too thick, now.”

He doesn’t stop laughing until you’re almost there, magnanimously letting you pull him along with a shocking lack of complaints. The tangled streets that surround this part of the market are something of a maze, but before long you’re standing outside the tailor’s shop that you’ve been tasked with finding.

Thankfully, it doesn’t look like it’s too busy inside. There’s a few people working, but it’s not as packed as you’d feared - with any luck, it’ll mean that they’ll have the time to work on your requests, rather than just rejecting you outright.

“Ah - just a moment, dear.”

Your hand freezes on the door, and you turn to see Astarion fiddling with a hitherto-unseen pouch of some kind. It looks like leather, and the way he’s holding it makes it look like there’s something delicate inside. How odd. Did he steal it? You don’t recognise it.

“I have a little something for you that might help with our…”

He trails off, eyes not quite meeting yours, gesturing awkwardly with one hand as he tries to find the words. “Our little arrangement, shall we say.”

“Really?” Intrigued, you step away from the door and back to his side. “What is it?”

No reply. Instead, he takes your hand in his and holds it flat, before upending the contents of the little bag into it and letting you see for yourself.

“I do hope it fits.”

It’s just a prop. It’s just part of the disguise, and he would have done it for anyone. Your mind doesn’t stop, your heart doesn’t ache. It doesn’t mean anything, the lovely engagement ring sitting innocently in your palm.

“I…”

Wordless, you can only stare. Perhaps a more critical eye would call it plain, but to you it’s nothing short of beautiful, a tasteful gold band with a delicate tear-shaped ruby in the centre. It looks new, polished and pristine in its finish, not at all like any of the rings you’ve picked up on your travels so far. There’s something inscribed inside the band, but the letters are quite small and difficult to make out - is that Espruar?

Of everything about it, that’s probably the strangest thing. As much as it stings to admit it, at the end of the day it’s a fake ring, so why bother having it engraved at all? Nobody’s going to see the inside except for you.

He can’t possibly have bought it. He just can’t have. Creature of luxury though he is, he’d never waste money on something so… so frivolous. He must have stolen it. That’s the only explanation. He didn’t know it was engraved when he took it, so it doesn’t mean anything at all. And in any case, he’ll probably want it back when this is all over - you’re sure it’ll fetch a lovely price when he’s sold it by this time next week.

You’re interrupted in your examination by Astarion, discreetly clearing his throat, and oh, hells, your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Here. Let me.”

Ever so sweetly, he takes the ring from your hand and slides it carefully onto your finger. Head bowed, gaze fixed on his task. He’s so close. If he looked up, right now, you could almost be kissing. You’d only have to lean forwards a tiny bit.

The thought sends a shiver right through you that you try to hide - but true to form he notices anyway, pulling his hands away like it’s his cool touch that startled you, and you mourn the loss as soon as he does it. He’s right that the metal is cold at first, but it quickly warms with your skin, and you smile as you realise that he’d guessed correctly. Slim yet sturdy, a reassuring weight. It fits perfectly.

“I…”

Sunlight. Washing him in gold, filling the street with light, sparkling on your finger. Vaguely, you remember thinking something about a ring earlier, but you can’t quite remember what it was.

“Let’s get you inside, darling,” he says, and something in his voice aches in a way you can’t describe. “We can’t have you catching a cold out here.”

The bell above the door rings cheerfully as he pushes it open for you, one hand on the small of your back to steady you as you step inside. It’s a tiny little place, jam-packed with all manner of fabrics and half-mended garments - you’re barely able to get the words sorry, it’s kind of last-minute out before the no-nonsense lady by the counter is ushering you back behind a curtain, plucking the roses out of your hands, and pulling it shut with a brisk nod and instruction to the assistant there to help you get dressed.

You can vaguely hear Astarion being pelted with questions as you retrieve the bundle of clothes from your bag. Now that you really look, it’s obvious that some of this stuff has suffered somewhat over time, what with all the fraying seams and threadbare patches, but all things considered it’s not that bad. With a little bit of love, you should be able to decently pass yourself off as the minor noble you’re supposed to be.

It’s lucky that Astarion has such expensive taste, magpie that he is. He’d managed to come up with a reasonable ensemble last night with relative ease, thanks to the various spoils he’s picked up while you’ve all been travelling. His doublet is a little bare, though, so he said he was going to see if they could embroider something for him.

Ordinarily, you know he would have done it himself. He tries not to let on, but you’ve seen him picking through his little sewing box - yes, he does have one and no, he refuses to admit it exists - at camp in the evening when he thinks nobody’s looking. Perhaps the others haven’t noticed how his clothes seem to magically repair themselves overnight after a fight, or perhaps they just don’t care to comment. Either way, he’s certainly more skilled with a needle than you’d first thought, but life on the road doesn’t exactly lend itself to fine embroidery thread. He almost certainly doesn’t have any, or at least not enough, and he’s far too proud to ask if anyone else happens to.

He really is very particular about how he looks, and you suppose it makes sense. Considering all that’s happened to him, the monstrosity of his servitude… well. It’s hardly a surprise that any measure of control, even over something as seemingly trivial as the shirt he wears, might be intoxicating. If he wants to dress himself in nice things, however gaudy or over the top they might be, then he may as well. Hopefully, nobody out there is getting on his bad side about it.

Actually, now that you think about it, it’s probably not the best idea to leave Astarion unsupervised in a room full of people who you need to like you. Hastily, you start changing a little faster, in what little space there is behind this curtain - clothes like this are so complicated that the assistant back here has to help you, but there’s so little room that you’d almost rather be alone. At the very least there’s no shouting from the rest of the room yet, but you know what he’s like. No point in risking it-

“-haah-!”

“Darling, are you quite alright in there?”

Wincing, you emerge from the cramped little corner, fully dressed and clutching your banged elbow. You can’t move all that fast, seeing as some of these clothes are a fair bit too small, but it doesn’t really matter. The lady has you up on the riser in the middle of the room, and you’re swarmed by a handful of shop assistants armed with pins and measuring ropes, all chattering away about letting one seam or another out, let’s put darts in here, this’ll need covering up, I see what you mean about the sleeves…

To be honest, you’re not really paying attention, content to have them just get on with it. Wyll had said that this place deals with rich types all the time, so you’re sure they know what they’re doing far better than you do. Astarion, meanwhile, seems to be having the time of his life lounging in his little chair and making snide comments here and there, occasionally getting up and pointing at various bits of you that need embellishing - you’re strangely reminded of a child playing dress-up with a favourite dolly.

“Lift your arms a moment, if you please.”

The tailor gestures for you to raise your arms at your sides, so you do. Her voice is nice, sweet and smooth like honey, and you idly follow her instructions as she tells you how to move. Some of the assistants have gone off to sift through fabrics, but most of them are still clustered around you, honeybees to a flower.

How long have you been up here again? You’re surprised there are any bits of you they haven’t measured yet.

Your mind starts to drift as they keep picking at you, but fairly soon it catches on one of the girls closer to the front of the shop. She’s strikingly beautiful, all fine features and gentle grace, pointed ears peeking out of long, silky hair that reaches all the way down to her slim waist. She hasn’t come over to you, and at her bench it looks like she’s working on a doublet of some kind, so it makes sense that she’s talking to Astarion. It makes sense, because she’s probably asking what he wants embroidered on it.

Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be why she's standing so close to him, so she can hear every detail of exactly what he wants. She’s smiling so much and laughing at every little thing he says, because she wants him to feel welcome here. She’s guiding him away from you and closer to her workbench, so that he can make sure that she’s embroidering the right pattern.

It makes total sense. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“And if you could just turn this way, please?”

Only it doesn’t make sense, because you know for a fact he’d never be caught dead in that particular shade of coral pink - it clashes horribly with my eyes, don’t you think? - and he’s never liked that type of slashing on the sleeve.The laces are in the wrong style, and the length is all funny. Astarion wouldn’t wear anything like that, not even as a disguise. It’s garish and tacky and altogether far too tasteless. It can't belong to him.

So what in all the hells does that girl think she's doing?

Astarion, for his part, doesn’t seem too fussed about her - rather, he looks to be fairly entertained. It’s fine, though, right? He��s probably just humouring her, isn’t he? To say nothing of the way his fingers flex at his side, like he wants to reach out and touch her, or the way his gaze fixes on her face like he can’t bring himself to look away.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter - and it’s hardly your place to tell him what he can and can’t do, anyway. This whole thing is just a ruse. He doesn’t know how much you wish it were true, and he doesn’t need to know. If it hurts, that’s your own fault.

Besides, he’s probably just looking for some fun, right? He’s never exactly been shy about it. He flirts with everyone, but it’s not love that’s on his mind - and you’re not stupid enough to think he’s any different when it comes to this. Whether it’s out of boredom or hedonism, it isn’t because he wants to make you feel good, and it isn’t because he’s just so friendly. It’s because he wants something.

You’re not so naive to think he might actually mean the things he tells you, pretty though they may be. When he says he wants you, when he says he wants to please you - every time, it’s as charming as it is frustrating. Charming, because you think you’d give anything for it to be real, for him to like you - desire you - care for you the way you do him. Frustrating, because you know that someone like Astarion would never bring himself to settle for someone like you.

“Face this way for a second, please?”

Even men like him need a change of pace. When he makes faces at you across the campfire when Gale starts rabbiting on about his magic tricks, when he presses his lips against your neck for just a second before he bites, when he softens every practised line with a flick of his wrist and a teasing smile. You know what it means. It means he knows he doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to play the fool with you - he’s not worried about getting you into bed, because he knows you know he’s out of your league.

He doesn’t want you. He trusts you to not want him either. And you, idiot that you are, thought you’d go ahead and ruin that by falling in love with him. How much worse could it be?

He’s your friend, loath as he is to admit it sometimes. You can’t bring yourself to hurt him with the admission - the part of you that knows he doesn’t come to you for sex, and the part that can’t help but wish he did. If he’s looking for somebody to warm his bed tonight, why would he ever waste time talking to you?

Yeah, that’ll be it. That dull ache deep inside, soaking into all the soft parts of you, watching the man you love give in to a girl he met fifteen minutes ago. And you can’t blame him at all, because it’s your own stupid crush that’s got you into this mess. The pain isn’t his problem. If you were the sort of person he could love, then maybe you wouldn’t have to hurt this way - but you’re not, so you can’t complain.

Gushing, sloshing, seasick. It’s not like he’s actually in love with you.

He’s turned slightly away from you to face her, so you can’t see exactly, but it looks like he’s… smiling? And look, he’s beckoning her closer, leaning down as if he might have a secret to tell her, and if you didn’t know better you might think he was just about to-

“Darling!”

Both of them whip around to face you, and neither of them are as good at acting as they think they are. The girl is breathing hard, pretty lips stretched into what you’re sure she hopes is a convincing grin, and you’ve seen enough of Astarion’s fake, hasty smiles to know when you’re looking at one.

You hadn’t really thought about what you were going to say next - blindly, you scramble for an excuse to get his attention back. “Won’t you come and help me choose?”

“Choose what, my love?” The girl scurries back to her bench as Astarion looks pointedly down at her, but you can still see how she watches him walk over to you, wide-eyed and flushed even as she tries to go back to her work. “Are you finished already?”

Fortunately, one of the assistants comes over to you at just the right moment, holding out a hand to help you down off the riser. Astarion clearly notices what she’s doing and offers his hand to you as well - and if it’s a sick sort of pleasure that runs through you as you deliberately ignore him, taking the assistant’s hand instead of his, then that’s nobody’s business but yours.

(In the corner of your eye, as you step down, he looks almost… well, it doesn’t matter. The moment has passed.)

“The sampler’s on the table, when you’re ready,” says the assistant to you, bowing slightly before vanishing behind a table piled with rolls of fabric, and you take a shallow breath as she leaves.

“The - um, the embroidery. You can pick.”

Your voice is small, too small, and you can’t quite meet his eyes as you say it - by all the hells, you’re pathetic. Don’t let him know, don’t let him see what this curse of a crush does to you. Weighed down, one hand that’s so, so heavy.

“Are you sure, dear?” Something dangerously close to worry crosses his face, just for a moment, but that can’t possibly be real. “Wouldn’t you rather decide for yourself?”

“It’s fine.” You shake your head and smile as best you can, already starting to step backwards towards the curtain where your ordinary clothes are. Anything, just to get yourself out of this for a second. “I’m sure you’re better at this than I am.”

He nods stiffly, eyes narrowed, and lets you go. You’re obviously not off the hook just yet, but there’s nothing he can say in front of everyone in here - gratefully, you take the reprieve and disappear back behind the curtain. It’s almost certainly your imagination, but you could swear you feel his eyes on you the whole way, burning through the back of your skull, setting your skin alight.

It’s only after about thirty seconds before you realise the problem at hand, and you can’t help but swear under your breath at the thought. This fucking outfit - you can’t even reach half of the buttons and laces that keep it on you, and this time there’s nobody back here to help you. Trying on your own will be pointless, seeing as you’ll probably just get yourself even more stuck, and if you go back out there now, you’ll have to face-

“Let me.”

Another lie. You should have known.

Quiet, slipping unnoticed behind you, cold hands searing through the layers of silk and velvet that separate you. Inch by inch, button by button. As always, he sees right through you.

“Careful,” you say, trying not to notice how hollow it sounds. “You and I, all alone. People might talk.”

He scoffs, and it’s something like lighthearted. “What would they say? Heavens forfend, I should spend a little time with the love of my life.”

Does he have to be so cruel about it? Stinging, smarting, lemon juice in the cut.

“I’m told that said time is normally meant to be spent fully clothed.” His fingers work their way deftly across your back, unbuttoning and unlacing all the pieces of your silken armour, and you fight to keep your voice steady. Whose idea was it to put you in this many damned layers again? “You’re a wicked man, my darling.”

“Oh, certainly,” he replies, and you don’t have to look to feel the careless shrug he gives. “Can you blame me? Between you and a second-rate sampler, I know which is the better view.”

“Depends how much you like embroidered flowers.”

“Not at all.”

“Then I commend your choice of entertainment.” The final button comes undone, and you gesture over your shoulder for him to step back outside. “That’s everything.”

He hums quietly in acquiescence, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he just turns to face away. The rustle of fabric is loud in the sudden silence as you step out of your outfit, skin burning with the closeness of him - as you reach past him to the pile of your ordinary clothes, careful not to accidentally touch, you can feel the coolness of his body in the air. A shadow on the wall, drinking in the heat of you.

“It looked like you were having fun.”

It’s a normal thing for you to say, in a normal tone of voice. Easy, casual, teasing in the way a friend might be. Judging from the way he tenses, spine stiffening ever so slightly, you very nearly manage it.

“Did it?” he asks, and there’s something in his words that you can’t quite figure out. “From a distance, perhaps.”

“You know, I think she likes you,” you sing as you pull your shirt back over your head, poking him in the shoulder to disguise the fact that the note is slightly sharp. “How’s that for a scandal?”

“Hardly her fault.” He makes a show of preening himself in front of the invisible mirror, inspecting his nails and raking a practised hand through his hair - if your tongue didn’t taste so sour, you’d laugh. “An occupational hazard for a gentleman such as myself.”

See, if you weren’t already so stupidly infatuated with him, you’d keep pushing. If you were just a perfectly ordinary, entirely platonic companion, that’s what you’d do. So you say it, and you try your best to ignore the horrible churning feeling that settles in your stomach as you do.

“You ought to go back to her,” you muse, as lightly and sweetly as you can. “If you asked, I’m sure she’d make time for a private fitting.”

To be entirely honest, the innuendo isn’t your best work, but that’s not the problem here. It’s a perfectly ordinary comment for you to make, a normal sort of joke that he really should have been expecting. So then, why…?

Astarion freezes, unnaturally still, one hand still tangled in his curls as the words register. Maybe it’s magic, or maybe it’s just your blood running cold - either way, the temperature between you plummets until you could swear you see your breath turning to mist in the air, frozen solid with the chill.

“A pri- sorry, a what?”

It’s a good thing you’re mostly dressed by now - he turns back to face you with an almost comically incredulous expression, looking for all the world like you’ve just told him you’re thinking about asking Lae’zel for ballet lessons. “And why in all the hells would I want to do that?”

“Well, you know…” Your hand waves clumsily in place of words you can’t quite say - surely he knows what you mean. “I won’t stop you, if you want to stay and let her, um… ”

“What?”

It’s a thoroughly bizarre situation, watching the gears turning uselessly in his brain. Normally, you’ve barely had time to think of the innuendo before he’s already said it, and you were expecting this time to be no different. What’s changed? Isn’t that what he was after?

“Darling, you don’t - I didn’t-”

Wait. Oh, shit, don’t say it’s true. You’ve got this totally wrong, haven’t you? He must have genuinely liked her, must have wanted to speak to her - you know Astarion well enough to know that he won’t waste his precious time on somebody he doesn’t care for. That’ll have been why the girl was so close when you saw them speaking, and it’ll be why he’s so confused now. Shame blooms deep and bitter in your stomach as it finally dawns on you - gods be good, he must really think you’re an idiot now, accusing him of trying to solicit some torrid affair when he just wanted to have a chat with someone h-

“Um… excuse me?”

Both of your heads whip towards the voice coming from just outside the curtain - one hand instinctively flies to the still-undone front of your shirt, while the other darts out to cover the sudden flash of light in the corner of your eye. Astarion nearly jumps a foot in the air at your touch, uncharacteristically on edge, but he lets you push the half-drawn dagger back into the sheath at his hip regardless. As much as he might protest, whoever’s speaking probably doesn’t need to be greeted by several inches of sharpened steel.

“Yes?” he snaps, and you notice that he’s moved slightly to put himself between you and the curtain. “What is it?”

“The alterations, sir,” the voice replies. “We can’t start without the, um… without the actual garments.”

Right, yeah, that does make sense. Astarion looks at you as you swallow down the furious humiliation bubbling in your throat, but you can’t look back. Turning around, you’re just reaching for the pile of clothes on the floor when-

“Five days should be more than enough, yes?”

Fortunately, you have the presence of mind not to shout as the world blurs around you, cold hands shoving you gracelessly through the curtain and out into the room proper. Stumbling over your undone boots, you barely avoid tripping headfirst into the poor tailor’s assistant standing just outside.

“I, uh - well, we’ll do our best, sir, but-”

“Excellent.”

You can only watch as Astarion grabs the pile of clothes and dumps them into the woman’s arms along with a sizeable handful of gold, before practically lifting you off your feet and carrying you out of the shop entirely. The elvish girl from before looks up with wide eyes at the kerfuffle, but he swans past without even sparing her a glance.

“Right, then. I suppose we’ll be seeing you all soon, won’t we, sweetheart?”

He’s gone mad. Absolutely mad. It’s the only explanation you can think of, head spinning from the speed, dazed and dizzy as he coos the words down at you - there’s just enough time to catch the confused assistant’s eye and point to one of the nicer embroidery patterns on the forgotten sampler as he whisks you past it, before the door swings shut behind you and you’re back in the sun-bathed street outside.

(Numbly, you realise that you’re holding your bunch of flowers again, tucked loosely into the cradle of your arms, and that your bag is slung over Astarion’s shoulder along with his own. When did that happen?)

  Silence. Thorns, crawling up your throat, greedy stems clawing their way out of your soft, bloody mouth. Everything tastes like roses.

“Well, then.”

Your voice is remarkably calm, if you do say so yourself. Red sunlight, dancing on the wall every time you move your hand. It’s cold.

“Love, I-”

“Let’s just go.” He recoils slightly at the undertone of venom in your voice, cutting him off, but it doesn’t send more than a faint twinge of regret through you. The more you play this game, the worse it gets - you’ve already put your foot in it once, and you’d rather not do it again. “You don’t have to pretend when it’s just us. I won’t make you.”

Anger and embarrassment bubble in your chest, a sour cocktail that sears a hot flush all down your cheeks and your neck as you extricate yourself stiffly from his hold. It’s useless to try and hide it, but there’s something small and shameful inside that forces you to turn from him anyway, quick steps down the street.

Upset over nothing, you’re making a scene. You won’t cry, you won’t, but you could if you wanted to - clutching the flowers to your chest like they might stop him from being able to hear the rattle of your heart against your ribs, from knowing the heat of your blood as it soaks through your skin.

“You couldn't make me do anything.”

He's quiet, bitter words flung at your back. You slow down, but don't stop.

“Yeah.” Oh, if only he knew how much you wished you could. “I know.”

Sunlight bears down on you, no relief from the fierceness of its glare. Perhaps that's what this has always been about. Selfish from the start, always looking out for yourself, and just too afraid to admit it. This whole fiction you’ve created, that you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in. A puppet strangled in its own strings, a control freak in love.

He doesn't love you, and it burns that you can't make him - so here you are, playing house like a spoilt child, forcing him into the charade. Sweet hells. You really are pathetic.

Cool fingers, warmed by the sun, lock around your wrist.

“I always said you were a fool, you know.”

It’s so kind of Astarion, to really twist the knife like this. “Thanks.”

“No - no, not-” He cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, tugging you towards him and sighing when you still won’t look at him. “I didn’t mean-”

“It doesn’t matter, alright?” you snap. “It’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine, is it?” he retorts, louder than you think he meant to be. “It’s not fine, and it does matter, because I - I’ve-”

Stone shifts beneath your feet, lightheaded, vertigo. The tadpole.

I’ve hurt you.

He’s in your head, flat pressure against the bubble of your mind. Not pushing, just waiting. A quiet street in the middle of town.

Please. Let me show you.

You want to. Dear gods, you want to, but even now you know that out here, this won’t be good for either of you.

“Not here,” you say out loud, shaking your head. “Not like this.”

He looks a little affronted that you don’t reply in his mind, but acquiesces all the same. “Where, then?”

“Just…” A woman and her son turn down the street behind him, walking hand in hand towards you. They look well-off, to say the least, and you quickly thread your arm through Astarion’s like the lover you’re supposed to be. You can never be too careful. “Inside, at least.”

Not refusing, just postponing. Ever the gentleman, he gestures forwards with a little bow, eyes closed in mock-deference. “Lead on, dearheart.”

After a little bit of walking, inside turns out to be one of the taverns you’d passed on the way here - not the one you’re staying at, but one that might be acceptable for a couple of your supposed stature. It’s only the early afternoon, so thankfully there’s not too many people inside. Astarion goes off to get something to drink while you settle yourself at one of the tables, slightly out of the way and hopefully where nobody else will be able to overhear you.

He’s gone for a little while, coming back with a pitcher of wine and two cups. One for you, one for him, and you watch as he pours them both with a generous hand.

“Any good?”

He takes a tentative sip, pretty lips twisting into a telltale grimace. “Same as ever, I’m afraid.”

“That’s my love,” you sigh, light and airy as you take the offered cup. Contrary to what he’d have you believe, it’s actually fairly nice, much sweeter than you were expecting. “Always such a picky eater.”

“Oh, darling, we’ve been over this,” he moans, betrayed, gently kicking your shin under the table. “Not picky, dear. Particular.”

“Particularly difficult to please, you mean.”

“Difficult? Hardly.” That predator’s grin, sharp fangs in the low light. “I can think of a few ways you could please me, if you’re so inclined.”

You shrug, swallowing another mouthful of wine. “No accounting for taste, it seems.”

“There’s something I’d like to taste, certainly.”

“Somehow, I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing any more.”

He laughs as you roll your eyes, knocking his cup against yours in a poor mockery of a toast. “The story of my life, my sweet. The story of my life.”

The air between you feels a little warmer than it had before, sitting across from him like this, like it’s just another ordinary day. He looks a lot more relaxed than he had outside, and you suppose you must be the same. Dancing in and out of each other’s words, the familiar rhythm of your back-and-forth.

A bunch of roses, lying next to you on the windowsill. This is… nice.

Is this better?

Astarion’s voice is an echo in your head, ripples on the surface of the sea. You look around, but it’s fine. Nobody’s watching.

He reaches across the table, palm face up. Your hand slides into his so easily, fingers brushing over his wrist, the imagined pulse of an undead heart.

Go on, then.

Your mouth tastes like oranges.

Show me.

The world shimmers and swims around you, iridescent like a soap bubble, melting into something new. The chill of the early morning, weak sunlight not yet enough to warm the street that you find yourself remembering.

“Good morrow, sir. Can I help you?”

A haughty mask, concealing the nerves beneath.There’s nobody else in the shop, early as it is, and it’s an enormous relief - you get the strange feeling that if this strange new heart could race, it would.

“I have a rather… urgent request, I suppose.”

“Urgent, sir?” The man behind the counter looks intrigued, smoothing down the front of his apron, and looking altogether far too cheery for such an early hour and his only customer. “How so?”

Unbidden, the scene twists before your eyes in a blur of sunlight, the cold feeling of impatient anticipation swirling through you like ink in water. Vague impressions of the town rush past you, smoke and sound and life as the sun rises in the sky, before you’re suddenly stepping through exactly the same door as you were a minute ago.

“Ah, sir.” The same man as before, a little less neat than he was several hours ago, the sound of hammering metal louder than you’d like. “You’ve been well since last I saw you, I hope?”

Restless, nervous, fighting the urge to fidget like a child. “Yes, yes, quite. Do you have them?”

“Aye, sir. Just a moment, if you please.” The blacksmith in front of him walks over to the side, rummaging through a drawer full of little leather bags. “Oh, it was good of you to write it down for us - we make a lot of posy rings here, sir, but not so many in Espruar, you see.”

He finds the one he’s looking for, soft brown leather with a drawstring, and carefully empties its contents to be inspected. A familiar ruby ring, scarlet fire in the blacksmith’s palm, and a lightly-patterned gold band that you now realise you’ve already seen before, as the hand it adorned paid an unknowing flower seller for a dozen roses.

Both rings are engraved inside, and your borrowed brain supplies the words with no small degree of pleased satisfaction. Amorie ent vivas est ma vie, proclaims the ring that now sits on your finger, ubi amor ibi fides the one that Astarion kept for himself.

“All to your satisfaction, I hope?”

“Hmm?” Astarion’s mouth replies but you can feel that his mind’s far away, curled up warm and content in some possessive, instinctive corner of your shared skull. “Oh, yes… lovely stuff, certainly.”

Seemingly satisfied, the blacksmith tips the rings back into the little leather pouch, exchanging it for no small sum of gold from your own pocket. The rings are hidden away, safe in the depths of Astarion’s bag, and he’s quick to turn on his heel to leave.

“A good day to you, sir.”

From what brief glimpse you catch, the man looks a little taken aback at your hasty exit, but this body doesn’t really care. The sun outside is high overhead as you pull the door open, and you feel yourself waving your hand vaguely over your shoulder. Whatever. There are far more important things to think about.

“Yes, yes. And to you.”

After all, you’ve got a date to keep.

“You see?”

As quickly as it came, the scene disappears around you - blinking, you’re once again sitting opposite Astarion, gentle pressure as his thumb rubs slowly back and forth across the backs of your fingers. “I wouldn’t just be late for no reason, dear.”

You can’t really tell how you feel, to be honest - strangely vulnerable, but pleasantly comforted all the same. Knowing he’d gone to all that trouble, for something that you’d thought was just a stolen trinket…

“Elvish?” you ask, eyebrows raised, relishing the way his head dips just slightly to the right like he wants to hide his face but knows he can’t. “You’re getting awfully sentimental in your old age, you know.”

“I - you!” If he could blush properly, would he? As it is, you can just about catch the faint flush of blood - your blood, taken last night up in his bed, while everyone else was still downstairs in the tavern proper - spreading high across his cheek. “Mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”

You shrug, hand slipping out of his to exaggeratedly inspect your nails, not even trying to hide your grin. He really does set you up perfectly sometimes. “Never had any complaints.”

He laughs, low and surprisingly sweet, and reaches absentmindedly for another mouthful of wine. “Don’t sound so sure, sweetheart. I’m sure I’ll get a noise complaint or two out of you yet.”

Bold words for a man who’s barely even seen your bed, let alone set foot in it. “Well, when you learn how, let me know.”

“Darling. Chance would be a fine thing.”

He takes a sip and apparently remembers how bad the wine was the first time - his expression sours, and you very kindly don’t point out that it looks a lot like the face Lae’zel gave him when she caught him absentmindedly licking blood off a dagger she’d grudgingly lent him after a particularly nasty fight a few weeks ago.

(Astarion assured you at length that it had been a very long day and he’d only been having a snack, and really wasn’t it an honour, a real compliment, that he thought her blade to be so immaculately kept that he’d even want to lick it?)

(Shadowheart had not been pleased. Astarion’s not allowed to borrow things from Lae’zel any more.)

While he’s busy making various disapproving - you won’t say endearing, you won’t - little noises about his curse of a drink, you slide the ring off your finger and hold it up in front of your face. It’s warm from the heat of your hand.

Turning it this way and that, idly admiring the way the light plays off the shiny metal, the flaming flicker of the ruby. Hells, it really is beautiful.

Gold band, red stone. Amorie ent vivas est ma vie.

“‘To live in love is my life.’”

He’s watching you, slowly swirling the wine in his cup with one elegant hand. The words are even prettier on his silver tongue, ringing metal like a bell.

“I thought…”

Distantly, a floorboard creaks. Dust, floating in the afternoon sunlight.

“I thought it made sense.”

Carefully, he twists the ring off his own finger, and presses it into your palm. A simple pattern of vines and leaves, curling around the band. Ubi amor ibi fides.

“You should’ve let me pay.”

He frowns. “What?”

“You paid,” you say. “For this. Those flowers. My clothes. You didn’t have to.”

“Really?” It’s almost shameful how your heart stutters when he meets your gaze, even if it’s only so he can roll his eyes at you with a dismissive smile. “Come now, dear. I have to spend my ill-gotten gains on something, don’t I?”

“There are far better things to sp-”

“No.”

His hand comes up to grasp your wrist, tugging it towards him until he can press your fingers to the side of his throat. His ring is heavy in your other hand, knocking against the one already on your finger, clicking against the inside of the band.

“No, there’s not. And if there were, you wouldn’t get to tell me what they are.”

If he’s going to be stubborn about it, so be it. “Clothes that you’re not going to wear are the best things you can think of to waste money on?”

“Do you think about me not wearing clothes that often, darling?” It’s your turn to roll your eyes this time, definitely ignoring the way you can feel the vibrations of his voice through the skin, the purr in his voice as it dips low and tempting. “Naughty.”

“I’m just saying that you don’t need to throw money away by - mmf!”

Astarion mutters something under his breath you don’t catch, before there’s the sudden rush of air past your face and a blunt strip of pressure against your stomach, pulled forwards until you’re half out of your chair. It takes your brain a second to figure out why your words aren’t coming out any more - there’s something in the way - he’s so close - oh, he’s kissing you-

Fingers going slack, a quiet thud as his ring hits the table. Neither of you hear it.

Without even thinking about it, you’re already melting against him, hand sliding up from his neck to tangle softly in his hair as the other braces your body against the table. Ah, that’s what that pressure is - the edge of the table is digging into your middle where you’re leaning forward over it, but you don’t really care. You’re far more focused on the sharpness of his fangs as they dig into your bottom lip, the insistent grasp of his hand as he cups your jaw, the faint sweetness of wine that still sits on his tongue.

“Shut up, shut up,” he mumbles into your mouth, “I don’t care about the damn money, you heinous little ingrate, I - mmm, I just want you to stop being so - so-”

The rest of his words are lost in a frustrated hiss that absolutely shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and you wince as the tadpole behind your eye squirms sickeningly when he breaks the kiss. His right hand is still holding your wrist, warm with your body heat, and he groans as he slumps back into his chair and bows his head, pressing the back of your hand to his face. Something reverent, something sacred, saint and devotee.

Just let me be good enough, he thinks, words floating in the dark water of your mind. Tell me I’m good enough for you.

Your jaw tightens. Why does he have to be so vicious with it? That’s not the problem.

Then what is?

He can’t see it, but even so, you’re not going to cry. How could this be what you want? I can’t - I’m - Astarion, you deserve m-

Gods, how stupid can you be? he spits, freezing venom splattering your skin. I know, alright? I know! I deserve more, I deserve better, all these fucking things you won’t stop telling me - has it ever crossed your empty little mind that I might want to actually have the things I apparently deserve?

If he was looking at you, you’re sure it would be with a scowl. I deserve love, or so I’m told. Yes?

Of course.

Then let me have it, dammit!

He takes a deep breath that you feel more than hear, a thin veneer of calm stretched over the words he wants to say. Darling. Dearest. Sweetness. I am in love with you.

Well, that’s… that’s, um…

Hm. You don’t really know what it is.

A strange shiver races through you, giddy with nerves and bitter excitement. He can’t mean it, can he? This can’t possibly end the way you want it to, he can’t possibly be saying - saying that, of all things.

…Right.

Try not to sound so pleased about it, dear, he mutters. I’m only pouring my heart out for you here.

Well - well, yes, but-

He finally looks up at that, interrupting the stammering jumble of words falling out of your sort-of-mouth, handsome features slightly soured with annoyance. But what, exactly?

You don’t…

Pinned in place by his stare, all you can do is faintly shake your head. You don’t have to lie because you think it’s going to make me feel better. It’s not your fault, alright? It’s not.

You’re desperately fighting the urge to flinch. He deserves to know, but it’s a painful admission all the same. I said before, you don’t have to pretend. You’re not a - a prop, or a toy, or anything like that - and I shouldn’t have made you do all of… All of this. I was just being selfish.

Thin, sharp words, papercuts all the way up the inside of your throat. It’s for the best.

Selfish? Astarion laughs harshly, somewhere between outraged and hysterical. Are you serious?

I mean, I - I just…

He’s gone mad. Absolutely mad. All you can do is watch in confusion as he smiles, sweet at first before it turns manic, dissolving into some sort of - well, the only words that come to mind are giggle fit, which sounds much cuter than he’d probably like, but it’s true. Even the damned tadpoles give up, connection splintering and falling away as he loses concentration and falls back into his chair - anyone looking would think you’d got him with Tasha’s Hideous Laughter or something, it’s that bad.

“I’m in love with an idiot,” he manages to choke out, “an actual, bona fide idiot!”

Such a charmer, your Astarion. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Any time, darling,” he laughs, one hand on his stomach and wincing slightly as he sits up - belatedly, you realise you should probably sit down again before people start to stare. “I’m here all week.”

His little fit of laughter seems to be a little more under control - you can’t help but melt at the pretty smile that still lights up his face, even though you’re still not quite sure what was so funny. “My love, my love - traveller of the realms, slayer of monsters, and proud owner of the thickest skull south of the Spine. Gods, it must be safe as houses in there - that tadpole of yours is really very lucky, dear.”

“A rogue and a comedian,” you reply dryly. “Don’t quit your day job, I’d say.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you are my day job, darling,” he says, nonchalantly picking up his cup again - he doesn’t drink anything, though, and you’re starting to think it’s just because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.“In case you’ve forgotten, I do have a rather vested interest in keeping you alive long enough to get rid of our…”

Apparently, he’s decided now is the time for him to start being subtle about your collective situation. He waves his hand awkwardly towards his head with his cup, wine sloshing loudly but - thankfully for his doublet - not spilling. “Of certain mutual friends we seem to have acquired lately.”

Well, you’ll play along if it makes him happy. “See, it all comes out in the end,” you sigh, wiping away an imaginary tear. “Marrying me for my famed tadpole-killing expertise. What a fairy tale, hm?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he picks up his ring from where you’d accidentally dropped it on the table, and slips it back onto his finger where it was before.

“Yes. Yes, I…”

Astarion trails off, eyes slightly unfocused, and you get the feeling he’s trying to find the words for something.

“That’s what it was.”

The floor tilts beneath you, a wriggling pulse behind your eye.

“That’s why I did this.”

He meets your eyes. A silent question, or maybe an offering. No laughter - something small and vulnerable in its wake that you can’t quite name, raw and aching, hollow bones like a bird.

You nod. A whirling blur of colour, and all at once the world is a tailor’s shop a few streets away, awfully cramped and thoroughly too noisy.

“Let’s get you inside, darling. We can’t have you catching a cold out here.”

This whole your-mind-his-body thing really is incredible - you can feel the smile spreading across his face as he holds the door open for past-you, even though you obviously can’t see it from here. Unfamiliar muscles forming a familiar expression. It’s weird.

A flurry of questions that you’re not really paying attention to, your new eyes lingering on the shape of your real body as it disappears behind a drab-looking curtain on the other side of the room. Astarion’s hands, fishing a doublet out of his (your?) bag and handing it off to some wretched assistant or other, but not before making it very clear that it is to be embroidered in gold, not silver, to match with his betrothed.

The boy he’s given it to scurries off with a nod, and something flickers deep inside - instinctively, you try to look down, but the memory of Astarion’s body doesn’t let you. Oh, it felt good when he said that. Something lighting up in your chest, fluttering and fizzing, a still heart that dreams of beating.

“What can we help you with today, sir?”

You’re still not entirely au fait with this whole mixed-consciousness thing, but it’s gradually getting easier to let Astarion’s mind talk over yours, relaxing into the gaps to watch the memories like you would a play. Well, it’s sort of like a play. It’s more like an opera, really, or you might say a pantomime if you were feeling especially mean - he’s as theatrical in his head as he is out loud, and it’s absolutely fascinating to realise that this really is how he sees the world.

Some woman or other comes over and starts chatting away, steering him over to a chair on the other side of the room, a little closer to the riser. She offers him a drink, but you see him wave it away - it’ll hardly do to be distracted when there’s time to be spent with you. There’s so little time to be alone nowadays, what with everyone else always clamouring for your precious attention. He’s not about to spoil such a golden chance by filling his head with wool.

(The sentiment is unexpectedly sweet, and inside his head where nobody can see, you can't help but smile like a fool at the thought. He likes spending time with you, he wants to spend time with you. With you!)

He can still hear you changing, cloth rustling behind the curtain, so he gradually tunes back into - gods below, is this blasted woman ever going to stop for breath? She’s still twittering on about… well, he’s not been paying attention, so he doesn’t actually know, but it’s probably not that important.

“Just alterations, sir? Or embellishment as well?

Right, right she’s asking about what he wants them to do. Fine, fair enough. “Family legacies, sent by a rather poorly-informed relative, I’m told. See to it that it’s appropriate for evening, and that it matches mine.”

“Certainly, sir. We’ll do our best for you and your… friend - um, companion? Companion.”

Seriously? The nerve. Friend. Well, perhaps it’s a little rude for her to be presuming anything, but he can let it slide just this once.

“Betrothed, actually,” he says, casually running his left hand through his hair and enjoying the satisfied pride that fills him as her eyes focus on the ring on his finger. “Something of a recent development, but certainly not an unhappy one.”

“Ah, is that so?” she says with a smile, much more genuine than before. “I’m sure there’s quite the story there.”

He shrugs, and you can feel how much effort it takes to make it look like he doesn’t care. “Well, it’s not for a lack of trying, I assure you.”

“Oh, my brother was just the same,” the woman replies, like she’s known him for years. “I couldn’t tell you how many times he asked his wife to marry him before she said yes - you know, I told him she’s far too good for him, didn’t I?”

She shakes her head, sighing fondly, and your borrowed heart twinges at the thought of this woman, this glimpse of an ordinary family with ordinary troubles. “But he wouldn’t give up, oh no, I’ll marry that girl yet, Ros, just you wait and see, and now they’ve been married for - ooh, must be going on eight years? Nine? Happy as a clam, he keeps her, and there’s not a man this side of the Spine who loves his wife more.”

“I commend his fortitude.” Astarion tips his imaginary cap to the woman, and it’s so stupidly charming that you could just scream. Bless this ridiculous elf you’ve had the fortune to fall in love with. “I shall have to live up to his example, clearly.”

“Well, obviously your circumstances are a little different, sir, but I should very much hope so,” she says. Her mouth opens, like she’s just thought of something she wants to say, but-

“-haah!”

Astarion’s head snaps towards the curtain where your voice came from, room blurring with the speed, half-out of his chair in an instant. What’s wrong? Who’s hurt you?

“Darling, are you quite alright in there?”

The curtain that hides you swishes as a hitherto-unnoticed assistant pulls it aside, revealing you in all your stolen finery, and the woman - has he actually asked her name yet? Did she say it? - turns to usher you over. “My congratulations to the two of you. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

“Yes, I…” Astarion trails off, and something in his voice feels like candle smoke, trailing up into the sky. Wistful. “Thank you. I rather think we will.”

(It’s incredibly sweet that he was so committed to the role, even when you weren’t there. Isn’t he a gem?)

She leads you across the floor, and… oh dear. It really doesn’t fit, does it? Well, that’s what you’ve come here to fix, after all.

It’s an eclectic mix, to be sure, but he supposes that’s what you get when you’re just stealing for fun, rather than to order. You’re all stiff and awkward when you walk like the underpieces are all slightly too small, and the rest of it is all oddly proportioned, sleeves heavy but cut too short, laces pulling tight in some places and hanging slack in others.

As dire a situation as it might seem, with a fair amount of elbow grease, he’s sure it’ll turn out wonderfully. The colour is lovely against your skin, and the embroidery is rich and detailed, gold thread twisting and curling around your body, over your shoulders, your chest, your waist…

Dear gods, he wants to know what it feels like. Raised stitches under his fingers, trailing across your body, pressing delicately until he can feel the soft give of your skin beneath the treacherous cloth that separates you. Would it be warm with the heat of you? Would you want him to know?

That’s my darling.

The sinful, stolen thought blossoms in his mind like sweet honeysuckle, out of control, filling his mind with that heady, giddy scent. Look at you, little love - aren’t you a picture, dearest? Mine, all mine.

His teeth ache, biting back the words as they threaten to tumble right out of his mouth. I want you, let me want you, I want to want you. Just right, just right. Pushing himself out of his chair for something to do, palms itching with the loss of you, restless energy thrumming in his bones. I want this to be real. So beautiful, let me hold you, soft and lovely. Spoil you, spoil you, sweets for my sweet. Honey, honey, honey…

(Sorry, wait - that’s what he was thinking?)

(You - you don’t…)

It’s a wonder he’s able to string words together as he watches you, admiring every angle as you turn, the bubbly taste of gleeful shame as he spots the places where everything’s just slightly too tight, revealing just a little bit more of you than it should. Is that wrong? Because if it is, he doesn’t care. He’s far too busy enjoying the way your eyes seem to glitter in the golden light from the window, the way he can see your chest rise and fall with every breath, slightly shallower than normal as you fight not to rip any of the ageing side seams.

The staff in here are mercifully receptive to his suggestions, clearly appreciative of his discerning eye and tasteful sensibilities. One of the stupider ones tries to say something about replacing the neckline with some hideous striped monstrosity, and he takes a grim sort of pleasure in thoroughly rejecting that particular brainwave - same with the one who seems to be advocating for a sort of avant-garde asymmetrical sleeve thing, that looks less like a fashion statement and more like it’s already been chewed by that little owlbear. Twice. Honestly, it looks ghastly.

He’s just about to say the thing about the owlbear out loud - the others won’t get it, but it’ll make you laugh, so it’s worth it, really - when there’s this… this voice.

“Oh, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

No. No, no, no. He knows that tone.

The laughter falls from his lips as his gaze flicks to the left, to be met with some waifish elven girl standing altogether far too close for comfort. She smiles when his eyes meet hers, in a way that’s just slightly too pleased to look as demure as she thinks it does. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”

“Quite.”

He’s terse, tension locking him in place and filling his voice. The girl’s hand comes up to just barely brush against his elbow, so lightly that he doesn’t even really feel it - but even that is enough to make him jolt, instinctively jerking away and one hand drifting towards the comforting weight of the dagger at his hip.

“Would you come with me a moment, sir?” she asks, undeterred, delicate fingers twisting in her hair and swishing it back over her shoulder - obviously, almost embarrassingly coy. “My workbench is just over here, but there are more rooms this way if you’d rather talk in private.”

Ugh. She’s not even subtle about it - he doesn’t need any sort of elevated senses to be painfully aware of what she wants. Her heart’s fast, eyes bright, breathing a little too hard. It’s almost comical. He’s been faking the exact same thing for longer than she’s been alive.

“And what, exactly,” he spits, “could I possibly have to say to you?”

She laughs - laughs! Normally, the vitriol dripping from his voice can clear a room in seconds, especially combined with the crimson glare that he’s currently levelling at her. Apparently, though, this idiot girl is an exception to the rule.

“Your doublet, sir? I’m an embroiderer, sir, and…”

If she fiddles with that ridiculous hair any more, he’ll cut it clean off and take her fingers with it - does she not see the way he’s desperately trying to keep his hand away from his dagger? “Well, I’d hate to disappoint you, and you seem like the sort of gentleman who’s very knowledgeable about all sorts of things…”

So she’s stupid as well as vain. Dear gods, darling, pick a battle.

“Do I look like I want to talk about embroidery?” He resolutely turns his back and tries to focus back on you, still as lovely as ever up on your little perch. “Do excuse me. My betrothed requires my attention.

“Oh, no need to trouble anyone else, sir.”

Forget the hair. If she makes that infuriating giggling noise again, she’ll be lucky to leave this room with a head.

“I’m sure we can find something to talk about…”

Her hand comes to lay lightly at his elbow again, and that’s it. That’s it. You’re going to have to apologise to that woman from earlier for him, because he’s about to stab this pathetic little worm right in front of everyone, and he’s not even going to feel the tiniest bit bad about it.

She lights up as he turns to face her properly, beckoning her a little closer with a single finger. It soon turns to horror as she sees the predator’s grin that splits his face, the façade of politeness cracking like a duck egg, fangs unashamedly on display.

“Shall I tell you a secret, little elfling?”

(You’ve always known that Astarion’s attitude to murder is a little unconventional, but murdering someone for the crime of threatening a relationship that isn’t even real? His head spins with the euphoria of the kill-to-be, and you’re dizzy with how much he wants it. Is it bad, that he likes the taste of her fear? Is it worse, that you like it too?)

The girl freezes on the spot as he leans in, something sharp and brittle in the way she trembles but can’t force her feet to move. Shivering, shuddering, perfect glass splintering like ice. A prey animal. This is going to be fun.

“There’s a funny thing that always seems to happen, to people who try to get in between my darling and I.”

“It - sir, I - I didn't-”

He laughs over her, dark and wicked, already salivating at the thought of what’s to come. Ooh, you could just kiss him.

“Don’t worry, little madam, I’ll give you a clue. It starts with please, sir, I’m sorry, and it rhymes with I don’t want to d-”

“Darling!”

It’s you - sharply, he pivots on his heel to face you, hurriedly smoothing his expression back into a slightly more pleasant, we are in public, Astarion, stop looking so bloody murderous all the time smile. The swarm of people around you has dissipated some, and it’s nice to finally have an unobstructed view of you. “Won’t you come and help me choose?”

“Choose what, my love?” Bless you, bless you for the excuse to abandon this grasping little wretch. He fixes the terrified creature next to him with one last self-satisfied smirk for good measure, enjoying the way she gasps and trips over her own feet as she stumbles away, before letting the magnet in his chest pull itself gleefully back to you. “Are you finished already?”

Some hapless assistant comes drifting by, clearly not noticing him, and holds out a hand to help you down off the stand. Well, that certainly won’t do - does nobody in this accursed place know that he’s engaged to you? Because he’d thought he’d made it really rather obvious. The ruby on your finger glitters in the light, and he thinks about the words he knows are pressed against your skin, a secret promise.

Amorie ent vivas est ma vie. It’s only right, it’s only fair. How could anyone ever look at you and not know that you were made to be loved? You were made to be doted on, kissed and held and adored like the precious thing you are - spoilt absolutely rotten, thoroughly and entirely, toothache and cavities.

You deserve love, so much more than he could ever give you, but by all the hells, does he want to try. This stolen, golden day isn’t nearly enough.

Perhaps he’s tipped his hand a little too far this time, but it’s true, it’s true. Ubi amor ibi fides, where there is love there is faith. Two hundred years of blood, cracked open on the altar, a broken heart that can’t afford to cry. He’s been abandoned by gods before. A faithful sunflower, ever turning to face you, held blissfully captive in your gravity. All that love that lights your path, that fills your world - would you let it be his, poor and pitiful as it is? Divinity. The crackle of a campfire, truth is faith is you.

Why, then…?

Don’t you notice it when he reaches out to you, palm upturned to help you down beside him? Weren’t you expecting him? Surely, surely he’s not done such a poor job as your fiancé that you didn’t think he’d want to hold your hand, that you’d choose some random shop girl over him.

I thought - I just-

Silently, he watches on as you step down from the riser, the phantom warmth of your hand in his. Does it matter? Of course not, of course not - how could you know that it even matters to him at all? You probably just don’t want to trouble him, or maybe you really didn’t see. It’s his own fault, after all, for trying to find meaning in the very charade he’s brought upon himself.

But I’m here, his traitor’s heart whispers, confused. Won’t you let me help you? What did I do?

So caught up in his own puzzled musings, he barely even notices it when the assistant mumbles something and runs off. The too-loud beat of your heart, the too-quiet sound of your breath, echoing through his skull.

“The - um, the embroidery. You can pick.”

Shit, shit, what’s wrong? You won’t even look at him now, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder, and you sound all - all sad…

“Are you sure, dear?” He won’t push it, not out here in front of everyone - no matter how much his empty arms ache to hold you, press his mouth to your temple, smooth away the tiny, worried creases in your skin with his thumb. “Wouldn’t you rather decide for yourself?”

“It’s fine.”

It’s worse than he thought. Before he can even do anything, you’re already backing away from him - inch by inch, step by step, like he won’t notice if you move slowly enough. You’re scared. “I’m sure you’re better at this than I am.”

You’re afraid - no scent of your blood in the air, no lingering taste of magic, but he’d know your fear anywhere. Fingers trembling ever so slightly, eyes forgetting to blink, pulse beating against your skin like a drum. Did someone hurt you? Say something to you? Fuck, he must have missed something. Who was it? Who was it? Tell him, and he’ll have them turned inside out before you can s-

The thought hits him like an arrow, cold shock spreading through his chest before it turns to horrified pain. He dismisses you with a nod that surely must look as wooden as it feels, unable to take his eyes off you as you scuttle away behind that damned curtain - but in his head he’s still half a mile away, replaying the last ten minutes in his head over and over in search of the thing he must have done wrong. One hand unconsciously comes up to his chest, just to make sure that the crater in his ribs hasn’t bled all over his front.

Broken heart, punctured lung. Are you afraid of him?

A low, stifled curse from the other side of the room brings him back with a jolt, and without really realising it, he’s already ducking through the curtain. Fingernails catching on velvet, still air, floorboard that creak underfoot. Something about forgiveness or permission, or one of those other things he never remembers to ask for.

“Let me.”

Quick fingers skimming across your back, undoing buttons, untying laces. Flashes of a thousand others in your place, pushed haphazardly to the back of his mind, gritting his teeth to stay, stay, stay. Seams tearing, lace ripping, buttons scattering across the floor - but that’s not right, he’s here with you, and you - and you-

“Careful.”

A quiet sort of affection, creeping up on him, the gentle blade that slots between his ribs and begs to stay buried there. Greedy, guilty hands, craving to ruin you, only knowing how to destroy. Protective, possessive, cursed for sure. Dread. Satisfaction, thick, dark blood smeared across his face, the carnage of his feast painted down your neck. The softness of your body, curved against his chest - desire, rich and syrupy, honey-sweet and terrifying in its sincerity.

“You and I, all alone. People might talk.”

I wish they would, whispers something in his head. I wish they knew - and I wish you knew too.

You feel your shared mouth open, but he doesn’t let you stay any longer - before past-him can reply, the scene dissolves into mist and falls away, leaving only Astarion looking back at you across the table.

“Clear enough for you, darling?”

The words crackle against your senses slightly, electric. You nod, left in something of a daze.

“Quite.”

You don’t say anything else, for a little while.

(Absentmindedly, you take a sip of your wine. It’s still not great, but it’s better than nothing.)

He’s on edge, fidgeting slightly in his seat, but it barely registers - your head is swirling with everything you’ve seen, everything he’s shown you. So he - so he had wanted this? It hadn’t been… everything he’d said…

It doesn’t make sense. How could he be so stupid?

You’re not good to love - you’re not good at love. Someone so precious, something so treasured. What could you possibly give him that he couldn’t find elsewhere? What do you have that he hasn’t seen a thousand times over?

You don’t know how to help him, or even where you could start. He ought to have someone he can trust with all those deepest, darkest parts of him, who understands him the way he doesn’t even know he needs, who knows just what to say, just when to listen. Someone confident and funny and kind, someone with the sort of love that’s warm and all-encompassing - a sunny summer’s day, a lighthouse in the storm. Sturdy, dependable, honourable. Safe. He deserves safe.

Instead, all you’ve got is a silly, reckless crush, a clumsy, gangly, unpracticed thing that you barely even know what to do with. Can you even call it love? Would he recognise it, if he saw it? Some trembling, pathetic infatuation, the best your body can do, thin and liquid in the marrow of your bones. Not blood, just water, filling but not full. Nothing that would satisfy him.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair. He’s lovely and he’s wicked and he’s clever, he’s cruel and he’s sweet and he’s made for so much more than you.

“I, um…”

He’ll thank you later. Not out loud, obviously - this is Astarion you’re talking about, after all - but he’ll know this is all for the best.

“Well, I’m very flattered, but…” Carefully, you arrange your face into what hopefully looks like sympathy, rather than pity. He’s clearly not in his right mind - he needs to think this is you offering to fix this together, rather than you letting him down gently. “Maybe this isn’t th-”

“Oh, for the love of - for once in your life, will you take the fucking hint?”

Reeling, your jaw drops as he practically shouts the words at you, hands slamming down onto the table with a thud.

“I didn’t even-!”

“No! No, you didn’t!” The tadpole in your head writhes as his mind opens to you once again, white-hot and shaking with rage. Does he even know he’s doing it? “Because you gave me that big, sad, I’m-so-sorry-I’m-so-useless look as you opened your silly little mouth, and I knew exactly what you were going to say!”

Snarling, biting, this must be what it’s like to be hunted by him. “So here’s what’s going to happen, darling - I am going to tell you what’s going on here, and you are going to sit there and listen, yes?”

Snap, snap, snap - he clicks his fingers insistently in front of your face when you don’t reply. “Yes?”

“Yes, mother,” you grumble, thoroughly chastised. “Listening.”

He narrows his eyes at the name, but lets it slide. Apparently, he’s got bigger fish to fry here.

“I am not a child.”

A thousand sarcastic replies flit through your head, most of them involving some variant of you’re right, a child wouldn’t be such a messy eater, but the murderous look he gives you as you open your mouth tells you that now might not be the time.

“I don’t need you to choose things for me. I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” he spits, fingernails biting into the wooden surface of the table. “I have had enough, of other people giving me orders, deciding things for me - do you hear me?”

His voice, low and bitterly cold. “You don’t get to be my master.”

There’s nothing you can really say to that, so you just nod, feeling slightly sick. Where’s he going with this - gods, what have you done?

“Oh? So you do understand!” he cries, throwing his hands up in the air in apparent frustration. “So it’s finally dawned on you, has it? You’re finally going to let me do what I want, is that it?”

“Yes,” you choke out, voice thin and cracking. “I - yes.”

“So if I told you I wanted to - to write a book about the uselessness of lockpicking, or let Gale turn me into a frog, or dye my hair purple, or something, you’d believe me? No matter how out of character you thought it was? You’d let me do it, even if you thought I’d lost my mind?”

There’s not even space to get a word in edgeways - he’s really, properly ranting now. “Or if I said I wanted to, um - oh, I don’t know, rob a bank, or run for mayor, or go into business writing terrible Sylvan love poetry - you’d believe me, yes? You’d say to yourself, oh, that Astarion, he’s big enough and bad enough to know what he wants, wouldn’t you?”

Another nod, a little bit more confused this time. Faerie love poetry? “I would.”

“Oh? Is that so? My, you sound awfully confident.” He feigns shock, one hand splayed mockingly across his chest. Sarcastic, almost jeering, a theatrical gasp.

“I must be so lucky, hm? To have someone who knows me so well, who trusts me to do whatever I want? Respecting me, caring about me, telling me that what I think matters?”

Something moving very fast - wine spilled all over the table with a clatter, a curse, a crescendo. “Well, then, dearheart - why can’t you seem to keep it in your ridiculous little head that I am in love with you?”

A beat.

“And before you say it - no, it’s not a joke, or whatever fool excuse you’re busy coming up with,” he snaps, pointing an accusing finger at you like it’ll keep the words from forming in your head. “I’m cruel, dear, but not that cruel.”

Sighing, he flicks his hand and the dripping, crimson wine stain soaking his sleeve disappears.

“Do close your mouth, sweetling,” he murmurs, reaching slowly across the table, pausing just before he can touch your face. “What did I tell you, hmm?”

“About my open mouth?”

Your voice is weak and the joke’s not your best, but you lean forward, letting him graze his fingers lightly across your jaw. “Not to make promises I can’t keep.”

“Gods. I really have taught you well.”

Words spill unbidden into your mind like oil, writhing in what might be fury or terror. Crawling into the strange, empty space that lies between you, dark and filled with agony, out of your body and inside your head.

Know me, see me - what a joke, that I should want to be seen at last, and by you, of all people. Are you there? Are you listening?

A thousand tiny moments, rushing past you in the current of his madness. You couldn’t make me do it, can’t you see? You couldn’t force me to love you - I have no need of force, not for you! It’s no pretence, it’s no game.

You couldn’t make me, but I did it anyway because it’s real, it’s all been real - why can’t you believe me? Do you think me so spiteful, so cruel, that I would do that to you?

Walls collapsing, worlds colliding. Where you go, he follows - always a step too slow, reaching out a second too late to find your hand already gone.

The words you think I wish to say, the pity and the scorn and the endless mockery that you imagine fills my head when I look at you. Is that what you want? Am I to be nothing but a hapless instrument of your own self-hatred, your own monstrous thoughts spilling from my lips, poisoning you with every word, every kiss?

My love, he wails, my love, my love. You’re so cruel to me.

Is this still only in your mind? The air is thick and close, seeping heavy into your skin. You make me sound so hateful, full of spite and loathing, bent on your destruction. Do you think me incapable of love - of loving you?

Tell me, savage darling of mine - tell this vicious, twisted creature that you say you see before you. Why can’t you believe that I could ever be in love with you?

Ragged, fevered fingernails tearing at the brickwork, half-mad with wanting. Ageing silk, soft and fragile as it frays. A whimper that might be a screech that might be a howl.

Why did I have to be a monster? he sobs, voice splintering and cracking - a phantom hand, all claws, desperately searching for your ankle. Couldn’t I have just been a man? Couldn’t I have just been in love with you for my own sake, because I care for you more than anyone I’ve ever known?

Please, my darling, I beg. Don’t make me this way.

You…

You don’t know what to say. Formless, faceless in this imagined space between - how would you speak, even if you tried? What words could reach his heart, could soothe this pain?

Whatever you say next, it can’t be a lie. Not again. He’ll know.

Paralysed with fear, but why? You like him. You want him, want to love him - and here he is, telling you that he feels the same. What’s the problem, then?

I’m scared.

The edge of the cliff, crumbling away beneath your boots. You know how to want love, but you don’t know how to do it - what does that even mean, for people like you two? How does it even work?

You don’t know what you don’t know, and it’s terrifying. Foolish and inexperienced - won’t he be ashamed of your clumsiness? He always seems so… so capable, so much bolder than you are. Confident, if a little too arrogant, and a healthy dose of vanity on top of that - ever unshaken, ever above it all. And yet, even in the moments when the act stretches too thin, when you can see it for the charade it is, it doesn’t matter. Astarion’s still miles beyond you, braver than you could imagine being.

He always seems to have an answer, he always seems to know. You’re embarrassed that you can’t match him.

I won’t - I can’t-

But that’s not all, is it?

He’s so precious to you. He matters, more than he thinks and more than you’ll admit, and he’s in pain. You don’t want him to be in pain. But you’re afraid that your love, weak and unpracticed as it is, won’t be enough to stop it.

Is it because you don’t want to see him hurt, or because you don’t trust yourself not to hurt him? He should want more, he shouldn’t settle for you. Selfish, lazy you, wanting but never deserving, complaining but never really trying. All these ugly, shameful parts of you that he must not know, or else he never would have said any of this.

Surely, he can’t know. Nobody could know all these things about you, and still pretend to love you the way he does.

And yet…

He says he doesn’t suffer fools, and you’ve seen him threaten to stab enough of them that you know it’s true. He says he doesn’t waste his time on things he doesn’t care about, that he doesn’t bother with anything he doesn’t like, and yeah, those also seem to be threatened with stabbing on an alarmingly-regular basis. So maybe it’s more about the propensity for knives than any particular economy of affection, but even so - you still believe him, don’t you?

He’s a liar. It’s the one thing he’ll always tell the truth about. But now, knowing what you know, you’re starting to think that’s not quite right either.

It all comes back to fear. Scared that it’s not true, that he’ll change his mind, that he was lying the whole time. Scared that you’ll be hurt, that you’ll hurt him, that he really is as cruel as he thinks he is. Can you do it? Trust him when he says you’re enough for him, that you’re what he wants? Trust him, when he says he means it?

It’s too much.

Your messy, sticky heart. A breathless, fluttering creature, laden with roses and sick with love.

I don’t want to get it wrong.

A cool hand cups your cheek, and the world comes back to you.

Stinging, your eyes open - weren’t they already open? - to find Astarion close, much closer than he was before. While you weren’t looking, he must have moved, but how on earth did he…?

“Steady on, darling. My eyes are up here.”

However he did it, Astarion looks down at you from where he’s perched in your lap, sitting sideways across your legs with one arm around your shoulders to keep himself balanced. Slowly, he coaxes your face up from the floor to look at him, fingers pressing into the softness of your cheek.

“Ah, that’s better. There you are.”

He doesn’t look angry, as you’d feared. Maybe pleased is the right word? No, that sounds too much like self-satisfied - not reverent, that’s too grand, and not proud either. It’s something softer than just happy, something contented and uncharacteristically tender. Charmed, perhaps.

Slightly awkwardly, you quietly clear your throat. Your body hasn’t cried, but it feels like your mind has, and the gap between the two is kind of disconcerting.

“I’m sorry.”

Astarion tilts his head, pretty eyes faintly confused, but you carry on. “It’s just a bit… you know. There’s a lot.”

Your hand stutters as it waves stiffly through the air in front of you, like that’ll somehow help you say what you mean. Everything that’s happened today, everything you’ve done, all summed up in some inept little gesture in your lap.

Luckily, he seems to understand well enough. With a sigh, he leans forward until his head is resting on yours, pulling you gently towards him to settle your head against the curve of his throat, safe in his embrace. Without really realising it, your arms find his middle, settling loosely around his waist in return.

“You know, I think I’ve changed my mind,” he says slowly, fingers tapping idly against your skin. “I think we do have time, after all.”

Bemused, you frown against his shoulder. “Time for what?”

Another memory, teased out of your brain by the tadpole. A sun-filled street, and a plan that couldn’t possibly go wrong.

What say you, dearest? Fancy an evening as my beloved?

Even now, you find yourself smiling at his overblown antics, the cocky flick of his wrist as he took your hand and kissed it. You could at least ask me properly, you know.

We’ve no time for courtship, sweetheart… Did he sound quite so mournful the first time? Or do you just remember it that way? I simply must have you - and tonight, no less!

“Let me ask you again, darling,” the real Astarion asks you. Well, with his chin resting lightly on top of your head, he more so asks your hair, but the meaning is clear. “Properly, this time.”

“Mmm…”

Is it a tiny bit mean of you, to make him wait? Probably, but he likes it when you’re mean. “You’ll have to convince me…”

“Oh?” Of course, he plays along, with a smirk that you don’t have to see to recognise. “Then set the scene for me, dear. However shall I win your hand?”

It takes a few long seconds for you to settle on an idea, fingers absentmindedly tapping against his back. This is nice.

“Tell me how it’s supposed to be,” you say, warm words against cold skin. “Tell me how this should have gone.”

“Well, it wouldn’t start like this, certainly,” he declares, tracing tiny, maybe-unconscious circles on the floor with the toe of his boot. “I wonder how we would have met? Something grand, I’m sure…”

He makes some gesture you can’t see, painting the picture in the air. “Perhaps a ball, or a gala, the kind they have in the Upper City - ooh, maybe in the foyer of an opera house or a theatre or something.”

“How… refined.”

“Oh, it would be terribly dull, I assure you,” he replies. “You’d have been to a thousand of these things before, and you’d be bored out of your skull.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way the words fall out of his mouth, full of longing and yet totally blasé. “And you’d save me from it, I assume?”

“Naturally.” Astarion runs a practised hand through his hair, adjusting himself in your lap slightly so he doesn’t fall. “I’d catch sight of you across the room and be utterly captivated by your beauty, darling. Then, I’d bring you a glass of wine and make some excuse to get you talking, and we’d spend the rest of the evening being absolutely awful about everyone else there.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Oh, you can’t help yourself - you have to stretch up a bit awkwardly, but you lean up to kiss his cheek, just once. Maybe twice. “Then what?”

He hums, deep in careful consideration. “I suppose I’d have to - oh, we’d both be living in the Upper City, by the way - I suppose I’d have to find your family’s home the next morning.”

“Bold, don’t you think?” you ask with a grin. “It’s barely been half a day since we met.”

He scoffs. “Like that would matter to me. They might show me into the drawing room, but they wouldn’t let me see you - I fear I might make quite a scene, you know. I’d stay as long as I could, waiting for you to come downstairs, and I wouldn’t leave until I’d begged permission to court you properly.”

The image of Astarion in all his finery pops into your head, perched defiantly on the sofa in the lavish drawing room of some imagined townhouse in Baldur’s Gate, arguing with the maid as she tries to shoo him away - it’s so ridiculous, and yet so absolutely him. Who else would turn up on your doorstep and elbow his way into the parlour, setting himself in the middle of the furniture like he owns it, and refusing to leave without an offer of courtship from the family?

“And what’s so funny about that?” He pretends to be affronted as you muffle your laugh into his shoulder, but there’s no heat in it. “Don’t tell me you’d keep me waiting, now.”

“Never, my love,” you proclaim, thoroughly charmed. “Once I heard the racket from downstairs, you wouldn’t be able to keep me away.”

“Racket - you think I’d be making a racket, darling? In what world?” he gasps. “I’ll have you know I’m the very picture of politeness. Very subtle. You wouldn’t even know, unless I wanted you to.”

“Right, right, subtle…” You nod exaggeratedly, taking in his perfect look of offended outrage. “And I assume that’s why the picture of politeness is sitting on my lap and trying to get his hands up my shirt in the middle of a tavern?”

Cold hands freeze against your sides, skin against skin, and you grin. Got him. “Nice try, though. I was almost convinced.”

“Of my subtlety? I’m sure I could persuade you...” He raises an eyebrow down at you, gaze dark with half-hidden promise. “You don’t think I could be quiet?”

“I’d be disappointed if you were. You mean you wouldn’t let me hear you?” You’re deliberately disappointed, a little whiny in the way you know he understands - a familiar dance, made all the sweeter by the fresh excitement of this new air between you. If he wants to play the game, you’ll play too. “Besides, I thought you liked it loud.”

“Oh, I do,” he breathes, one hand sneaking out from under your shirt, index finger pressing softly against the underside of your chin to keep your eyes on him. “Especially when you’re the one offering, darling.”

See, now you're speaking his language. “Who said I’d offer you anything?”

“Please. You wouldn’t get the chance, dear,” he scoffs, unfairly handsome in his arrogance. “Offering it to me? No, no. You’ll be begging me, pretty thing, and you’ll like it.”

The way he shifts to resettle himself in your lap is certainly no accident, and you really have to fight to keep your gaze up - you can just about keep looking at his face, but you can’t quite stop yourself from staring at his lips as he continues. “So how about it, hm? Would you be loud for me, my sweet?”

“I - well, I…” Your thoughts melt into nothing as the hand under your shirt slips just barely higher, words stuttering and faltering on your tongue. Curse his stupid face, curse his awful voice, curse his ridiculous hair and his strong hands and his pretty smile and his sweet kisses…

“Mm, I think you could be,” he muses, smug like the cat that’s got the cream. “I’d ask you very nicely, you know. And you’d be good for me, wouldn’t you? If I asked you nicely?”

The tadpole twitches behind your eye, the heat of something liquid and indulgent, a tantalising taste. Half memories, half dreams. Clever hands keeping you close in the middle of a crowded market, pulling you into a side street, pressing you hungrily up against the brick. The swish of a soft curtain, voices just outside, quiet now, darling, or do you want them to hear? Soft and warm and sweating, a trail of fabric in your wake - closer and closer, snatched up in his arms and - and-

Words, you have to say words - dizzily, your hazy mind latches onto whatever it can find. “Nicely?”

“Yes, honey. Nicely,” he sings through a wicked smile, faintly condescending in a way that really shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “That’s right, sweetheart. Very good.”

He knows he’s got the upper hand and he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, that’s all. You’re not going to fall for it, you’re not. Was it always this warm in here?

“Look at you, darling. Feeling a little hot, are we?”

The flash of fangs as he presses the back of his free hand to your cheek, blessed coolness, before sliding it down your neck to toy with the collar of your shirt.

“You should have said something, poor thing. I know a way we could cool you down.”

He looks thoughtful for a second, expression pensive before it melts back into a smirk. “Well. Maybe not straight away. But I’d get you out of all these layers, at least…”

Promises, promises. Your hummingbird heart, fluttering out of control. Graceful fingers picking at your collar, digging playfully into the softness of your waist, skimming across the skin. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it…

“You want to do this here?” If you sound a little more out of breath than normal, which you’re not saying you are, then that’s neither here nor there. “Whatever happened to biding your time?”

“It’s your many charms, my darling,” he replies, endearingly - um, infuriatingly ready with a comeback, leaning down to kiss just beside your eye. “A man can only resist so long.”

“Bastard.”

“Mm, I love you too.”

The self-satisfied look is quickly wiped off his face by the bitterness of his wine - he takes one last sip before disgustedly dumping the rest of his cup into yours. “Gods, this stuff is vile - let's be off, darling, before anyone tries to palm another bottle off on us.”

Pushing himself up off your lap, he turns back with a neat little bow, palm upturned to help you out of your chair. “Delightful as the company may be, life is far too short to spend it drinking such dreadful wine.”

“This from he, the undying.”

“And I wouldn't waste another second of my undeath on it,” he sniffs, pulling you gently to your feet and brushing imaginary dust from his shirt. “I’ll have you know, being dead is no excuse for subpar drinks.”

“Your idea of a nice drink is human blood, dear,” you reply dryly as you pick your roses up off the windowsill, paper crinkling in your hands. “I’m not sure you're exactly an authority on the matter.”

Astarion rolls his eyes as he picks up his bag, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Touché, my love, touché.”

He leads you back through the tavern, stepping across to hold the door open for you. The barkeep lifts a hand in farewell, and as you go to do the same, something glitters in the sunlight coming in through the open doorway.

It’s true, it’s true. Sweet relief and incredible terror all at once, resolving into something bright and brave and fizzing. Where there is love, there is faith. Is this what stories feel like? Wanting and wanted, a kiss that’s a dance that’s a promise.

Thin gold, red light. Amorie ent vivas est ma vie.

“...Darling? Hello?”

Startled out of your reverie, you look up just as Astarion raises an eyebrow, amused, motioning towards the door. “Some time today, my sweet.”

“Right, right, yes…”

Hastily, you duck out of the doorway and step out onto the street, bathed in the warm light of the late afternoon. Astarion follows, offering you his arm with a flourish, and you take it gladly.

“Where to next, then?” you ask, falling easily into step.

He shrugs, gesturing in front of the pair of you with a wry smile. “Why, wherever the road may take us, of course! We’re free as birds, dear - the very world is our oyster.”

“Back to the others then.”

“Well, yes.”

“Thought so.” Wordlessly, you turn to head back through the market, a little less noisy than this morning but still busy enough. “Unless you were planning on throwing even more of your money at the flower boy, that is.”

He gives you a playful nudge, discreetly shifting you both to the right to dodge a man walking the other way with an enormous crate of apples. “Don’t tempt me, dear. Five minutes to acquire the necessary funds, and you’ll be walking home with more than an armful of roses.”

“Planting me a garden, are you?”

“You’ll have a veritable meadow, my sweet,” he replies like it’s nothing, grand as you like. “As many as there’s room for, and one more for good measure.”

His free hand reaches across to yours, lifting it to his lips and kissing it like a prince from a storybook - it’s almost embarrassing how much it gets to you, and you’re sure he can hear your heart speeding up at his touch. “You’d never buy perfumes or oils again, if I had my way - in fact, you’d be hard-pressed to wash the smell of roses off of you, my love.”

Oh, you can’t let him off that easily. “They’d be roses, would they?” you ask, thinly feigning disinterest, although the effect is somewhat lost when you have to speak up a bit to be heard over the woman hawking fish just behind you. “So cliché.”

He lets out a tortured sigh, pained expression on his pretty face. “It happens to the best of us, I’m afraid.”

“You’re right, it does,” you muse. “Can’t imagine why it’s happened to you, then.”

“Oh, you-!”

He makes a grab for you, but you’re already gone, slipping out of his grasp and away into the crowded market, ducking through the gaps between the stalls and laughing as he chases after you. “Get back here, you villain!”

It’s a doomed endeavour - you know he’ll catch you, but you run anyway. Weaving in and out of the crowd, he’s never far behind. Fingertips that just barely brush the back of your shirt, shouted threats that grow more and more ridiculous each time you twist away.

“When I catch you-!”

If he wanted to, he’d have you in an instant, but it’s not about that, is it? The chase, the catch, the game. It’s the one you love to play, and you love it even more when you lose.

“There you are, darling.”

Rose petals flutter in your wake, a ruby glitters on your finger. Cold hands pull you close, and the sky, the sky, the sky.

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[novarex]

Allright, I'm doing DROW SMASH OR PASS, Legend of Drizzt and Waf of the Spider Queen characters. I've seen this back in the tags and I want to play.

Drizzt Do'Urden - PASS - idk, he's not really my type, and he's just a little bit boring. It would also feel wrong somehow, and I don't know how to explain it. I mean... I wouldn't say no if he asked, but Cattie-Brie would have to be dead and I'd probably ask if he's sure like 10x.

Jarlaxle Baenre - SITUATIONAL - Don't get me wrong, he's lovely, but his personality is too close to mine, and there isn't enough air in one room for the both of us. But get me drunk, and I'd do it for sure.

Gromph Baenre - SMASH - Slamming the smash button until it breaks. If you know me at all you know I'm in love with this pathetic wizard man. He is both brilliant and stupid, and just the right amount of sarcastic, arrogant, sad, and pathetic. I would marry him. He wouldn't get a moment of peace because I'd be trying to entice him into bed 24/7. It's like he was written specifically for me to fall in love with. When he went missing in WOTSQ, I would have turned the city to rubble and made the rivers run red with blood looking for him. I know Cattie-Brie was pissy about the suggestive fantasies he put in her head with psionics, but I would literally learn psionics just to play a game of horny thoughts tag all day.

Zaknafein Do'Urden - SITUATIONAL - a bit too self righteous for my taste, and I think I'd probably get on his nerves. But I'd never turn down that legendary dick if I had a few shots in me. He's got some anger issues I'd prefer to steer clear of.

Kimmuriel Oblodra - PASS - I just don't think he'd be into it. I would also be incredibly uncomfortable with him having that much access to my thoughts. Unless, of course, he's into the wild fantasies that my brain cooks up...and in that case... we might turn this into a smash.

Rai'gy Bondalek - PASS - Strong possibility that he'd just make me self conscious. He's certainly intriguing, but he'd hate me for sure.

Dinin Do'Urden - SMASH - Dinin, my love. I would scoop him up and take him to a cottage in the woods and make sure his belly is full and his balls are empty and have all of his babies. I would brutally torture and maim anyone who ever dared to hurt him. I would burn cities to ash and end bloodlines for him. Dinin deserves so much better. I'm desperate for more Dinin, especially after the events of Lolth’s Warrior.

Rizzen Do'Urden - SMASH - I'd keep him as a pet. What malice did to him is unforgivable.

Nalfein Do'Urden - SMASH - I don't even know why other than he's pathetic in thre way that I like.

Beniago Baenre - SMASH - He's adorable. I would insist on him in his natural drow form, however. I bet he's a good lover too. In One Eyed Jax, Jarlaxle teases him a bit because he's definitely into human women. He smart, personable, and he definitely knows how to please a woman.

Braelin Janquay - SMASH - He deserves everything. I find him irresistibly adorable. He's spent more of his life outside of Menzoberranzan than in and has a pretty strong disdain for Lolthian culture. He is smart and clever and Jarlaxle adores him. Braelin has also suffered a lot and remains so loyal to Jarlaxle. Everything about him is attractive to me. He has quickly rocketed to my 3rd favorite, with Gromph as my #1 and Dinin as a very close #2.

Valas Hune - SMASH - I feel like we might genuinely get along. He'd be good to go camping with somewhere far from everyone else. I really thrive with one on one interactions, especially someone who needs personal space too.

Ravel Xorlarrin - SMASH- I have amended this to smash. He has grown on me considerably. He's clever and not easily intimidated. I respect that.

Brack'thal Xorlarrin - SMASH - Ok, I know he's only in one book (Charon's Claw) but he checks all of the "he's pathetic and tragic in all the right ways" boxes. His whole story makes me want to swoop him up and carry him off. Charon's Claw starts off so strong with him being kicked around that I just immediately wanted to protect him. His whole story just has me in a grip. It's really a shame we only got one book of him.

Tiago Baenre - HARD PASS - Fuck no. No way. I mean maybe if it gave me the opportunity to cut his throat, then I would make that sacrifice. He's the only irredeemable fuck face I can't find anything to like about. I'd kick him in the nuts.

Dantrag Baenre - SMASH - He definitely knows how to fuck. He's big too, which would be extra fun. I also have a weakness for Baenre boys.

Berg'inyon Baenre - SMASH - He seems like he'd know what he's doing, and if he didn't, he'd learn real quick.

Pharaun Mizzrym - SMASH - Let me be clear... I would not trust him at all. But come on, you know that sex has to be amazing. He knows what he's doing, is so good that he's an arrogant shit about it, and you'll definitely have a lot of orgasms. You know your legs won't work for a week after. There's a reason he's such a pain in Gromp's ass and it's because he's a wildly competent shitass.

Ryld Argith - MAYBE - He's just so practical it hurts. He also just doesn't seem to care that much about anyone other than Pharaun.

Nimor Imphrazel - SMASH - Half drow half dragon rabble rouser? Absolutely sign me the fuck up.

Allright. I'm not sure if I've missed anyone.

Tagging @vspin, @grandma-kei, @drizztdohurtin, and anyone else who wants to play. Feel free just to do the ones you know or add to it. I know I just did dudes.

[spacebarbarianweird]

the officialized Dadstarion request:

I was thinking that Astarion is trying to teach his moody pre-teen dhampir how to fight and she’s not having a good time, because why would someone as strong as her bother with mortal weapons, let alone some knives. But Astarion is pretty set on teaching her how to defend herself in a way that has her rely on skills other than her inherent dhampir powers.

There’s definitely a clash of opinions but both slowly get where the other is coming from—Astarion who was weak and had to learn how to be strong; his kid—born strong having to come to terms with the fact that strength isn’t everything

Thank you, hehe ✨

Ooof, I finally made it! Hope you will enjoy the story about how to train your dhampir!

If you wonder who is Nris and how he ended up in the Ancunins' basement, you can read The Dead, the Half-Dead and the Undead (but you don't have to).

Synopsis: Astarion teaches Alethaine how to fight

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, necromancy, father-daughter relationship, Tiriel is being a bitch, slice of life

Alethaine's age: 11

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Alethaine drops her bag on an empty chair and yawns, showing her dhampir fangs (and causing a tiny human child next to her to flinch).

The teacher, an elderly tiefling with a broken tail, explains the town’s kids things so basic that the dhampir already knew them when she was four. 

Unfortunately, there is only one person in the whole Daggerlake who has decided to teach the local kids at least something, and once a week, a bunch of children aged eight to fourteen gather in a small hut to listen to the tiefling bragging about the “good old days” and also learn some basics of math and Infernal.

“What are you doing here?” a dwarven girl, Rutha, whispers. “I thought your dad locked someone in the basement to teach you...magic stuff!”

“Nris knows no shit!” Alethaine answers. “All he teaches me is how to draw stupid runes and sigils and he can’t even raise a dead dog from the dead!” She stumbles. “Wait! How do you know dad locked someone in the basement?!”

“Everyone in town knows Astarion kidnapped a dark wizard,” Rutha shrugs. “He’s been there for how long? Does your dad feed on him?”

Alethaine bites her lower lip. It was supposed to be a secret along with her necromantic abilities. A year ago she accidentally revived a dead kitten. As if the gods had decided that elf-dhampir wasn't enough and also gave Alethaine an innate talent for necromancy.

Sorceress.

That’s what Alethaine Ancunin is.

Her dad, Astarion, faced and solved this problem in his own manner: he brought his daughter a teacher. Nris, a poor necromancer whose soul had been sold to the devils. Astarion broke the necromancer’s pact but made him sign another. Nris was supposed to teach Alethaine necromancy while hiding in the basement of the Ancunin’s house as long as his service was needed.

“No, he just lives there. And he is a useless piece of shit!” Alethaine says in her normal voice as the human boys who sit in the front row start arguing with the teacher calling him a demon.

“Why is that necromancer still there?” Rutha exclaims.

“I AM TIRED OF YOU LITTLE FUCKER!” the teacher yells and drags one of the boys to the board.

“Because of my mum!” Alethaine answers. “Dad wanted to get rid of Nris in a week. And you know what happened? Mum went down to the basement, looked at the necromancer, and yelled that he owed her money!”

“How so?”

“OH, YOU WANNA A FIST FIGHT?!” The tiefling roars at the ten-year-old. “YOU WILL GET A FIST FIGHT!”

Alethaine got closer to Rutha.

“When mum was twenty, he gave her a quest to retrieve some magic item from some ogres. She did find it, but the ogres broke her hand in two places. When she came back, Nris refused to pay and Mum had to stay in a temple till she fully recovered. So, Dad calculated the interest since it’s been almost fifty years ago and also the moral damage – and now Nris is staying till he pays back by teaching me!”

A wooden chair flies over the girls’ heads and smashes against the wall.

“YOU MOTHERF –” the teacher suddenly remembers he is in the room full of children and switches to Infernal. The insults pour down on them and Alethaine takes a piece of paper to write down at least a few words. Who knows, maybe she will need to make a devil cry one day?

“Slow down!” Alethaine yells back. “I am taking notes!”

Someone in the classroom joins the screaming match and Alethaine’s head starts aching. Acute hearing causes more trouble than common people think.

… When Alethaine leaves school (if one can call it that), it’s still afternoon. Usually, the dhampir helps the healer with the herbs – the halfling doesn’t see in the dark of the underground tunnels and can’t walk up the walls, so Alethaine has been helping her since she was five. Kelma pays her and the dhampir often has some money to spend on herself, especially when traveling sellers visit Daggerlake or her parents take her to Secomber, a bigger city fifty miles to the West. 

Alethaine takes the stone stairs and walks to the underground part of the town. The dhampir has no idea why Kelma prefers to live there without dark vision, but it seems like she is perfectly fine in the shadows.

“Oh, you are early today,” Kelma says, seeing Alethaine entering the yard. 

“The teacher fought the smith’s daughter.”

“Ah, he’s drunk his own brains with fire whiskey. I have no work today, Aletha, take a day off.”

“Don’t you need anything?”

“Do you want to help me clean the hut? I can give you the rugs to mop the ceiling,” the healer chuckles.

“Nope.”

“I thought so. You know, Alethaine, you were always a bit lazy. Tiriel would come to me asking if it was normal for an elf to sleep as much like you did.”

“Kelma—” Alethaine groans.

“Oh, and I remember you absolutely refused to walk when you already could. Why bother walking if mum and dad carried you around? They have been spoiling you rotten, especially Astarion!” Kelma laughs.

“You know Kelma… I will busy myself with something!”

“Good, Alethaine. Tomorrow, I will need your help to carry sacks around.”

“The teacher wants to give us a test in math tomorrow.”

“Do you care?”

“No.”

“Then I expect to see you at noon,” the halfling takes her pipe out and smokes.

Alethaine closes the fence. She doesn’t want to go home – Tiriel will try to force her to learn magic from Nris. And not because she really thinks he can teach her anything, but because she wants compensation for what the necromancer did to her fifty years ago. To her daughter, Tiriel has never come across as vindictive;now Alethaine thinks  her mother will rip the throat of anyone refusing to pay for her services in battle.

So, the dhampir goes further into the underground tunnels.

This part of the town is completely prohibited for the town's kids, but Alethaine has been going there since she was little. The tunnels are a part of some ancient temple that disappeared into oblivion millennia ago. They spread further and further under the ground, nearly reaching the Underdark.

And the whole place is deliciously creepy.

Alethaine jumps on what looks like a part of the wall, spreads her arms as if she needs to keep her balance and walks forward.

The sounds of the town fade as the girl explores the dark place. 

Alethaine Ancunin sees the world in shades of gray. She senses the presence of creatures full of warm blood and skeletons buried beneath the stones.

Skulls can tell a lot if one knows how to make them talk…

Someone grabs Alethaine from up above. She smells fresh blood and senses the familiar embrace.

“Dad! Let me go!” She laughs as Astarion holds her a few feet above the wall. 

“Hm? Should I?” he chuckles. His shirt is blood-stained and his skin is unnaturally warm.

“Yes! Dad, let me go!” Aletaine insists and he immediately puts her back.

Then, Astarion jumps on the wall and now they stand in front of each other. Alethaine smiles and hugs him.

“I thought you didn't want me to hold you?” he mocks her, patting her back.

“I don’t like being held upside down!”

“It’s actually ridiculous because it’s natural to walk like that” he sits at the edge of the wall. Alethaine joins him. It’s about twenty feet to the solid ground and it would concern Alethaine if a fall could do any harm to her.

Well, it still can. When Alethaine was eight she had a nasty fall into a crevice and broke her leg. She crawled back using her spider climb and then went straight home. It took her longer with a broken leg and she ugly cried because there was no one around. By the time she arrived home, her leg had already healed thanks to her regenerative abilities, but it didn’t mean the whole experience was less horrifying for the little dhampir. 

Alethaine remembers entering the house, all dirty, with a blood-stained dress, without one boot, hair dirty and messy, limping (because the leg hurt as hell) while her parents were talking in the kitchen. Now that she is eleven, she suspects she witnessed Astarion drinking Tiriel’s blood.

She knows her father dines on her mother’s blood. She also knows that it involves adult things she isn’t supposed to see. 

“How was school?” Astarion asks, taking his daughter’s hand. Alethaine’s skin is as pale as his.

“I learned how to swear in Infernal.”

“A rather practical skill!” he laughs. “I had a fight with a behir. Rather horrible beasts. And their blood tastes… weird”

“Do you drink any blood?” she suddenly asks. “Like, will any living creature do?”

“Blood is blood,” Astarion shrugs. “I can feed on fleas and worms as long they are alive.”

“Ew! Gross!” Alethaine cringes and her father smiles. There is something bitter about it, but Alethaine doesn’t know why. 

“...your mother's blood tastes different from that of any...,” he sighs dreamily and Alethaine covers her pointy ears.

They sit in silence for a while.

“You need to be careful,” he says. “There are many dangers in the tunnels and also in the woods.”

“I can deal with danger! I am a dhampir!” She bares her fangs and then takes a boulder that weighs almost as much as hers and tosses it into the air like a rubber ball. “I can rip their throats and break their bones. And I also know dark spells!”

“Alethaine, you are eleven. You aren’t invincible. I want you to be careful.”

“What for? I can fight an ogre if I need to! I am a Dhampir and a necromancer, I already know more than this filthy man you locked in the basement!”

Astarion’s face gets a serious expression.

“You know more than him, princess, because he is a wizard and you are a sorcerer. He taught himself all the things you were born with. But it doesn't seem like you know how to use these skills.”

“I will be fine!”

“All right then,” Astarion chuckles.

Aethaine turns around and suddenly a cold grip closes on her throat. Astarion’s eyes glow red.

“Dad…”

And then he jumps from the wall dragging her with him. In a heartbeat Alethaine finds herself restrained on the stones with her father’s knees on her ribcage and his dagger against her neck.

“So, where is your strength and where is the necromancy?” he asks softly. “If I were an enemy, you would be already dead.”

Alethaine pushes Astarion and he lets her go. The anger awakes something feral in the dhampir, the predatory side that screams “kill the vampire,” and she jumps on Astarion.

KILL THE VAMPIRE.

Only to be thrown away.

Astarion moves gracefully, holding daggers in his hands.

“Cast a spell.”

“But—”

“Cast at least something, princess, since you are so proud of your abilities!”

Alethaine raises her hand. For a brief second, her fingertips prickle, and a green ray strikes Astarion. 

And nothing happens even though Alethaine is sure he has been hit.

“What do the drunkard at school and the moron in the basement even teach you…” Astarion mutters. Now, he looks just disappointed. “I am undead. I am immune to necrotic damage!”

“Fuck,” Alethaine says.

“Fuck indeed. Did I hurt you?”

“No, I am fine.”

Astarion kneels in front of her. “Princess, you are not invincible. Many things will want to hurt you. And if you don't know how to protect yourself, you will die. And you’d better pray you just die in the blink of an eye not feeling anything. Because there are things worse than death. Being trapped by a hag. Being a slave in the Underdark. Getting your memories and personality erased. Turning into a disgusting monster. You can’t turn into a vampire, that’s for sure, but dhampirs are our worst enemies. Your mother and I released seven thousand bloodsuckers into the Underdark and who knows how many vampires are there now. And if they learnt you exist, young and innocent, they will want you dead before you become a menace.”

Astarion hands her a dagger.

“You need to learn how to fight.”

**

Alethaine is tired, dirty, and angry.

Every time she thinks she understands how to use daggers in a fight, she somehow ends up on the ground over and over again.

Or against the wall.

Or with a blade against her throat.

Or face down with her father pressing a knee on her back.

And over and over again she is forced to stand and try again. 

Her bones have been broken at least thrice. One time she even lost consciousness after Astarion pushed against a boulder. She woke up in a second and tried to bite her dad but instead ended up in a pool of dirt once again.

“You are dhampir!” he encourages her. “You are stronger than I am! You don’t have my weaknesses! You can take me in a fight!”

“Who said that,” Alethaine sniffs and tries once again. 

And again.

And again.

“I am tired,” she pouts. “And hungry. We can try again later!”

Astarion looks at her and nods. 

The moment he turns around, Alethaine snatches the dagger and stabs his hip forcing Astarion to fall down with a short cry.

She pulls the blood-stained dagger and jumps on him, pointing the weapons at his face.

Astarion stares at her in shock and then starts laughing.

“You did it! Gods, Alethaine, you did!” He sits up and hugs her. “My ferocious little princess, you took me down!”

Alethaine looks at his hip which has already stopped bleeding. 

“It was fun,” Alethaine admits as they return home.

“I suppose you enjoyed the part when you threatened to cut my perfect face?”

“It was fun to fight. I want to know more about fencing!”

“I will teach you, don’t worry. You will challenge evil vampire lords to duels and end their pathetic lives!”

Alethaine smiles holding her father’s hand.

“I will tell Nris you are tired,” he says when they approach home.

“Dad… about that… Could you please send him away?”

“Your mother wants him to stay.”

“And I don’t! The whole point was for him to teach me, not Mum to get her revenge!”

“All right, I will talk to her,'' Astarion promises. “Now go and clean yourself before eating.”

Alethaine spends an hour in the bath washing off the dirt and sweat. She hears her parents talking but can’t decipher their words. 

When she finally returns to the kitchen, Tiriel hands out a plate with dinner in front of her.

“Kitten, so you really don’t learn anything from Nris?” the red-headed warrior asks.

“The drunk tiefling at school teaches me more!”

“Great. I am tired of having a stranger in the house. Besides, we need the basement for something else!” she suspiciously winks to Astarion and the vampires grins.

Alethaine pretends she didn’t hear that.

Tiriel goes downstairs. Something slams against the wall.

“Wake up, moron!” Tiriel yells.

“What now?” Nris grunts as the barbarian drags him upstairs. “Oh, hello creatures of the night. You’ve decided to eat me and end my sufferings?”

Tiriel pushes him to the table. The necromancer looks pathetic – he wears rags, reeks of cheap ale, and the symbol of Thay on his chest is covered with the remains of his last dinner. 

“You know, I really needed those ten gold back,” Tiriel grabs his short hair as if she wanted to slam his face against the table. “I was twenty, I was all alone, no soul to care about me and the only thing I wanted was to do my job and get a fucking reward!”

“Mum, I am still a minor!” Alethane protests.

“Kitten, I am well aware of your skills in insulting others!” Tiriel returns back to Nris. “So, imagine me crawling back from that disgusting cave with my hand broken in two, bleeding and tired, only for you, Nris, to take the item and cast me out like a cat on the streets!”

“I am sorry! Tiriel, I’ve already apologized! Astarion, tell her!”

“Nris, there are only two people in this world I care about and neither likes you,” Astarion keeps sharpening his dagger.

“You apologized only because you realized your well-being depended on me, a once poor stupid girl who couldn’t read! Fuck off, I don’t want to ever see you again.”

Nris stares at her with horror. “You let me go? Just like this?”

“Well, not exactly,” Tiriel takes his right hand and breaks the bone with a disgusting cracking sound.

“YOU BITCH!!” the necromancer cries out. “FUCK!”

Tiriel grabs Nris’s collar and drags him all the way to the front door to throw him out like a drunk client in a tavern.

Alethaine looks at Astarion.

“And mum is supposed to be the normal one?” she says.

“Your mum allowed a vampire to bite her, what are you even talking about…”

Tiriel walks back and sits at the table, taking her portion of the food.

“And now you two tell me why you look worse than I did after working for that piece of shit!”

**

Astarion goes downstairs to the basement. The place reeks of the necromancer even though he has left.

“We need to burn everything down,” Tiriel says, looking around.

“Darling, I am not ready to move anywhere, especially after an arson,” he hugs her and teases her left ear. “But now, the basement is all ours!”

“I actually got tired of wishing for Alethaine to go for a walk every time we want to have sex. Do you remember how easy it was before? Whenever and wherever we wanted!”

“Acute dhampir hearing be damned,” Astarion sticks his hand inside Tiriel’s waistband. “But she can’t hear us from down here; is your desire for justice satisfied?”

“Oh, absolutely! But you’ve made a pact with him, haven't you?”

“I did. So, if Alethaine needs him for something he can’t say no because otherwise his former masters will come for him. He really did need to pay you back then!” His left hand traces along her curves.

“I was hurt and lonely,” she pouts. “It was a cold autumn, and I had to sleep on the floor of the temple of Tyr. I imagined someone hugging me to fall asleep.”

“Hm? Was it an elf with short silver hair?” he chuckles.

“I imagined him with long hair like your people usually have,” Tiriel sticks her neck out, inviting him for a bite.

Astarion pierces the skin and Tiriel’s blood gushes down his throat. 

Her blood is unique, no other sentient being can compare. Even small droplets of it satiate him, make his heart beat, and warm his skin.

He lets her go before pushing her on the floor.

“I love you,” Astarion says, getting rid of her clothes as she unlaces his trousers. 

“I love you, too,” Tiriel answers, tugging him as close as possible.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hello I am a big fan of your work But I have a request (if request are even open then u can ignore it) how would the HLC characters react to MC being able to transform into a Hungarian Horntail dragon? (Btw have a great day or night and drink water please)

A/N: Blog rules and request updates are put on the pinned post at the top of the blog! If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me a DM :3

HLC REACT TO MC TURNING INTO A HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL

MC still doesn't know the limits of ancient magic, but apparently, it includes being able to transform oneself into a powerful magical beast of their choice for a time. Today, the beast of choice was the ferocious Hungarian Horntail dragon. Admittedly, MC was just showing off.

They show their closest friends and mentor the full transformation and even a fireblast demonstration. Then they sit pretty to soak in the praise. They know they look cool.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: His jaw was already on the ground when MC transformed, but it somehow got lower when he witnessed the 40ft jet of fire rise from MC's maw. Such POWER. He wants to see MC decimate a dark wizard outpost. Set fire to EVERYTHING!

OMINIS GAUNT: He can feel the rumble of the earth beneath him with every step MC takes. The heat of the flames makes him turn away. Just the low rumble from MC's throat sends shivers down his spine. This is the closest he EVER wants to get to the real thing. Even though he knows it's MC, it's a scary experience.

ANNE SALLOW: She's more collected than her brother, but still as excited over MC's ability to burn everything in their path. Just thinking about what MC could do with a single breath makes her giddy. She's as much a firebug as Sebastian, she's just better at keeping her head.

IMELDA REYES: She is a simple woman with simple interests. See dragon, must race. Fly MC! Show her what you're really made of! Bet she could fly circles around them. Bet they can catch her? Prove it!

NATSAI ONAI: She'll beat Poppy to the punch about asking for rides. The spines make it challenging but she'll figure something out. She grabs MC by the nostrils and gets in their face. "Let me ride you! ...wait, that sounded-... You know what I mean!"

GARRETH WEASLEY: He NEEDS to hear them roar. Dragons are so strong that they don't even need to use fire. A roar from a fully grown dragon at close range can shatter eardrums. You feel the shockwave of sound go through your body. His ears ring for a bit even though he covered them.

LEANDER PREWETT: He's feeling so inadequate as a wizard. He can barely balance on a broom right and MC can transfigure themself into a mother loving DRAGON. No fair...

AMIT THAKKAR: He's dying to know how this works. This is magic that's either never been seen or never recorded, because he's never even heard of anyone capable of this without being some sort of rare animagus. MC needs to be studied, and he's the one to do it. Next to the stars themselves, MC is the universe's greatest mystery.

EVERETT CLOPTON: Dragons scare the ever living shit out of him. They're big, powerful and sometimes go after broom flyers when hungry. Hell admire MC from a distance. Like, way back behind the stoney hill, distant. Please don't come closer, he will cry.

POPPY SWEETING: She's absolutely ECSTATIC! She can examine a powerful dragon up close that isn't trying to eat her. It's a dream come true! She does circles around MC, taking in every detail. She takes out a small, leather bound book and a piece of charcoal and sketches every part MC lets her study. When MC puts their snoot right up against her, she actually squeals a little with excitement. She gets to TOUCH a live dragon. She's on cloud nine and never wants to come down.

ELEAZAR FIG: When MC tells him this is something they could do thanks to ancient magic, the only thing he can think is: "Miriam would have loved to see this." He's so proud. MC is capable of way more than he ever thought. He only hopes to live long enough to witness the rest of the wizarding world realize the same.

[enby-jellyfish]

I See The Light

Part of the Baldur's Gate 3 Fairytale AU Collection

Rapunzel!Gale Dekarios X GN!Flynn Rider!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your

Summary: You meet a strange man in a tower. Also he's magic. What?

Warnings: Grooming (cuz Mystra), kidnapping, eye trauma, reader yearning against their will.

Word Count: 4671

A/N: This took way too long to write for someone who loves both Rapunzel and Gale...

Once upon a time there was a humble farmer who lived in a cottage in the forest with his pregnant wife. Everything was perfect for the happy couple, until one day the farmer’s wife suddenly fell ill.

The farmer consulted many healers, all of whom told him they didn’t know what was wrong or how to cure his wife.

As she got worse and worse, the farmer’s desperation to save his wife grew. He heard rumours, whispers, about a witch, living not that far from his home.

Unfortunately for him this witch was not a witch at all, but a disgraced goddess, cursed to live in human form.

As soon as he could the farmer bid his wife goodbye and left in search of this goddess. When he found her, the farmer pleaded for her to save his wife.  The goddess agreed on one condition: his firstborn.

Without a moment of consideration, or consulting his wife, the farmer agreed, and he was sent on his way with a magical golden flower from the goddess’s garden.

When back home, the farmer used the flower to brew a tea, which instantly made his wife feel better when ingested.

With her regained health, the wife delivered a healthy baby boy who she named ‘Gale’ for the joy he brought her. This joy however was soon snuffed out by the goddess coming to take what was owed.

She screamed and kicked and cried, but to no avail. Her son was taken from her.

The goddess took the infant to a lonely tower, hidden in the forest. She took great care to make sure no one but her could find it and having only one way in and out of the tall structure, great thorn bushes surrounding the tall structure to ensure no one climb it.

She went through these great lengths to keep Gale hidden from the world because he is special. Gale has magic.

Magic is a rare thing nowadays; many believe it to be extinct. The disgraced goddess can feel it, and with it her only chance of returning to her former glory, slowly ebbing away from this world.

Keeping the young wizard close and grooming him and his power to serve her, they lived for many years in that tower. Gale growing into a handsome, strong, clever man.

He is lonely though, aside from Mystra his only company is a Tressym he named ‘Tara’ he accidentally summoned during one of his exercises.

Gale spent most of his time studying the books Mystra brought him. His favourite time of year is when hundreds of floating lights fill the night sky. According to his calculations, it happens once a year, every year, on the same day: his birthday.

You on the other hand are nothing but a humble thief, currently being chased through the forest by several guards of the castle you attempted to break in to. You don’t see why they’re making it out to be such a big deal. They have plenty, and you don’t. It’s not like they would miss a few trinkets or a couple of coins.

Oh well.

Pretty sure they’ve lost your trail; you dare to stop and catch your breath. You don’t recognise this part of the forest, an eery fog covers the landscape. Looking around, you try and find some form of landmark that would lead you back to familiar soil.

You notice a giant boulder, covered in vines. Maybe if you climb it, you’ll have a better vantage point.

And so, climb it you did. Or at least you tried. When grasping the vines to pull yourself up you notice behind them a hidden entrance through the boulder.

Suddenly you hear the sound of the guards chasing you nearing closer. You quickly pull aside the vines and hide inside the boulder. Listening to them pass your hiding place you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Looking further into the cave you see a small valley with a lone tower surrounded by thorny bushes. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you reach the tower. Looping around it you notice it doesn’t seem to have an entrance. There is, however, a bell attached to the old walls, almost unnoticeable, hidden behind the thorny branches.

You, being the sane, reasonable person you are, decide to manoeuvre your hand through the prickly plant and ring the mysterious bell attached to a creepy tower in a hidden valley.

The second the ringing sound pierces the quiet of the valley you are surrounded by a purple hue. When the purple fades away you are no longer standing in the valley but instead a room. Before you can thoroughly start to panic about being magically teleported, you hear a loud ‘CLANG’, and everything fades to black as you fall to the floor.

When you awake, you notice you are sitting in a chair. You try and reach for your throbbing head in an attempt to soothe the pain but notice you can’t move your arm from its place on the armrest.

Trying to blink away your dizziness you find yourself tied to the chair with, purple tendrils? Is this… magic?

What in the ACTUAL HELL?!

“So, what exactly were your intentions here? Kill me? Kidnap me? Extort me for my magic?” The voice comes from a shadowy corner.

“Uh, no? The only thing I want with your magic is to get out of it?!”

“Oh.” The figure in the corner turns and whispers something to something to a cat you hadn’t noticed before, and to your surprise, it whispers back.

“Did- did that cat just talk?” Magic? Talking animals? A few minutes ago both seemed like something out of a fairy tale, with magic having been long extinct. You can’t tell if your head hurts from the bad hit you just took or the insanity of the situation.

“She’s not a cat, she’s a Tressym.” The man corrects you, carefully stepping out from the shadows, clutching a frying pan. The source of your headache, no doubt. The cat- Tressym follows close behind. As she properly comes into view you notice her birdlike wings.

“My name is Tara!” she says with an offended tone.

The man is dressed in simple, yet well-made clothes. His shoulder-length hair is brown, as are his eyes, and swept back in a half-up-half-down style. A stubble of facial hair decorates his kind, yet stern, looking face. A silver earring, shaped in the form of an eight-pointed star, dangles from his left ear.

An attractive man, you think. If not a bit odd.

“Oh-kay! Nice to meet you?” The odd duo stares at you for a moment, you staring back, before turning to each other. They whisper back and forth for a bit; you can make out Tara telling the man that you ‘don’t seem that bad’ and that he should ‘ask’ you. They seem to come to an agreement and turn back to you.

“Alright intruder-”

“You teleported me up here.”

He ignores your interruption. “We have come to a decision of what to do with you. In return for your freedom, you shall take me to see the lights.”

“The lights?” The man puts up a finger as if gesturing for you to wait and moves to a writing desk, taking some scrolls and showing them to you. “See, they show up every year. According to my calculations they will come again two days from now.”

You look at his notes, they contain astronomical equations, maps, and drawings of his ‘lights’. They seem awfully familiar.

“W- the lanterns? Listen wizard-”

“Ah, I’m Gale.” He interrupts you.

“Whatever. Even if I wanted to take you, I couldn’t. I’m kind of wanted around here.” Taking him with you would only slow you down.

“Oh.” His disappointed eyes remind you of those of a sad baby cow.

He suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could cast a spell so no one could recognise you! What do you say?” You weigh your options and make your decision with a heavy sigh.

“Alright, fine, I guess I can take you.” You cave.

“An excellent choice!” With a flourish of his hand, you’re no longer tied to the chair. You rub your wrists and stand up, glad to be able to move freely again.

“So, a simple cloaking spell should do the trick. Now you just keep standing there.” Having grabbed a thick book, Gale turns to a page halfway through, taps it with his index finger, and speaks some words in a language you don’t understand.

A warm, tingling feeling surrounds your body for a second before disappearing. “Is that it?”

“Yes, anyone who looks upon you from now until after the lanterns won’t be able to recognise you.” He punctuates his sentence by closing his book. “Great. Now, let’s get out of here.” Gale bids Tara, who upon an invitation to come along states she has a prior engagement with a particular comfortable pillow for a nap, goodbye and teleports the two of you out of the tower where your journey begins.

The two of you walk through the forest in silence for a while until Gale breaks it. “Lovely day, this. For now.”

You look at him. He seems a bit skittish, staying close to you while keeping his vigilant gaze on his surroundings. Like he expects an attack to come from behind every tree, rock, and bush. “You don’t get out a lot, huh.”

“No! No. I don’t know if you can tell, but” he leans closer to you, lowering his voice as if telling you a secret “I’ve never actually left the tower.”

That explains a lot. “You don’t say. Well, we’ll have to take the scenic route then, don’t we.” Maybe you can find a way so you don’t have to take him on this little side quest.

“I- Well, a bit of sightseeing can’t hurt, can it?” You give him a pat on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! I know just where to go first, are you hungry?”

You lead him to the infamous ‘Ugly Duckling’, a tavern known to shelter all sorts of thugs and criminals. The perfect place to take your recluse wizard and scare him back to his tower. You almost feel bad for him. Almost.

Opening the heavy door of the unassuming building, you gently push him inside. “Salutat- ions…” Gale exclaims, his excitement ebbing away half-way through the word when he sees inside the dimly lit tavern.

It is quite busy inside; all sorts of unsavoury types fill the old seats and halt their conversation upon hearing Gale’s out-of-place exclamation.

“Don’t mind us gentlefolks! Isn’t this place great? You should try their rotisserie rat, a true delicacy!” You push Gale past a particularly large thug wiping his bloody nose with his long, no longer white, beard. “How unseemly…” You reach the bar and order some food and drink.

Gale surprises you, you figured he would back out from the musty smell of the place alone, but here he sits trying his hardest to make polite conversation with the bartender. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

The bartender gives you a look. “’Charmed’?” You give an apologetic shrug. “He’s not from around here.” The bartender looks Gale up and down one last time before seemingly accepting your answer with a scoff.

You sit and enjoy your meal for a bit, Gale less so, until guards suddenly barge into the room. You’re thankful they won’t be able to recognise you, if Gale’s spell worked, but still get ready to run at any moment.

“We have been commissioned to find a wizard. We’ve received word he’s here. Hand him over now, and there won’t be any bloodshed.” The captain’s loud voice fills the room as everyone looks around suspiciously. You feel Gale grasp your arm, squeezing slightly. He’s shaking. You can’t tell if it is due to the adrenaline of the coming fight or the fear of being caught.

The guards draw their swords, making everyone stand up and draw their own weapons. The fight that breaks out starts with a plate being thrown at one of the guards, food still on it. In the chaos you briefly consider slipping away, leaving Gale to fend for himself.

“Swords, meet sorcery!”

Dork.

Wait, idiot! He just gave away his identity!

The fighting continues and suddenly you come face to face with your companion. Gale looks relieved to see you, but relief quickly melts into something else when he sends a purple blast over your shoulder. You look behind you to find a familiar guard unconscious on the ground.

The fighting continues as you and Gale manage to make your way out of the tavern. Finishing off your last opponent you turn to Gale to find him knocked on the ground.

“Get me up, would you?” He pants, clearly not used to using his powers for this cause. “You fought well.” You try to assure him, unsure as to why you’re bothering putting in the effort, pulling him up.

“Well, one can’t always be a gentleman.” The laugh that escapes you is genuine, much to your surprise.

A crashing sound from the tavern pulls you out of your daze. “We should go.” Gale agrees and the two of you rush away to safety.

It is dark when you decide to stop and rest. You gather firewood and Gale sets it ablaze for a perfect campfire. Only then it is you notice a wound on your side. Something must have nicked you in the chaos you think as you peel the fabric of your clothing aside.

“You’re hurt.” Gale states the obvious, taking a seat next to you. “I know a simple spell to remedy that, allow me to demonstrate.” And you do.

With your permission he places a purple glowing hand over your wound, causing you to hiss in pain, before a warmth flows through the tender flesh.

Upon Gale’s hand leaving your body, your skin looks untouched. You gently trace where your wound used to be. Despite having seen it several times now, magic is still a shocking concept to you.

“Thank you.” His gaze is soft, an unreadable look in his gentle eyes. “You are most welcome.”

Oh no, you may be starting to like this guy.

You snap out of your daze, clearing your throat. “Sooo… How long have you been a wizard?”

Gale lets out a surprised chuckle. “Uh. Forever, I suppose. Mystra says people tried to kidnap me for my power when I was a baby. Hence the tower, she says it keeps me, and my gift, safe.”

His eyes grow distant at the mention of this ‘Mystra’. “She must be something special.”

He gives a sad smile as he turns his gaze to the flames. “She is. The Goddess of Magic. She was my guardian, my teacher, muse, and eventually lover.”

Ouch.

And gross.

“Must be a complicated relationship.” Gale chuckles sadly. “It is, I suppose. But it’s the only one I have. Except for Tara, I accidentally summoned her when I was ten. Thankfully Mystra allowed me to keep her.” He smiles as if it’s a good thing.

“’Allowed’? And you’re sure you want to go back?” You can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

Gale startles. “Yes! Maybe- I don’t know. It’s complicated.” He splutters out, scrambling to defend himself, and her.

He clears his throat and turns back to you. “But enough about me. What about you? Have you always been a thief?”

You laugh. “Touché. Ah, no, I haven’t. I didn’t have a lot growing up and had to make do.”

He gives you a sad smile. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.” His voice is soft. You give him a sad smile back. “Exactly.” A warm, fuzzy feeling you can’t exactly place fills you.

You inhale sharply. “It’s getting late, we should probably get some shut-eye.” Gale smiles. “A pity. I’m sure I could talk to you all night, but, as you wish. I bid you goodnight.” You watch him turn away to prepare for the night.

Oh no.

The next day the two of you make the final stretch of your journey into town. Decorations for tonight’s spectacle cover every street and alley. Gale is having a great time drinking it all in, dragging you from stall to stall, from view to view. The food, the sights, the sounds, he simply can’t get enough, and you’re happy to indulge him.

He smiles oh so sweetly at you when you do.

When the day comes to an end and the sun begins to set you take Gale on a small rowing boat on the lake.

“You’ve been looking forward to this for so long, I figured you should have a decent seat.” Gale smiles at you, but you can tell it’s forced. “Is everything alright?”

He sighs, brows furrowing. “I- I don’t know. All my life I’ve been dreaming about what this very moment would feel like. What if it’s not everything that I dreamed it would be?”

You grab his hand, an impulsive decision meant to comfort him. “I’m sure it will be.” You squeeze his hand. “And if it isn’t, you’ll get to find a new dream to look forward to.”

His soft gaze and small smile gracing his lips make your heart clench and butterflies erupt in your stomach. It makes you both afraid and excited. Adrenaline flowing through your veins like electricity.

“Gale I-” You hesitate, Gale’s thumb caressing the back of your hand in a comforting motion. “You have my attention.” He gently encourages.

You take a breath to speak again but interrupt your confession when you notice a small light rising from behind the trees. “Look.” He does.

Hundreds of lanterns start filling the night’s sky, casting a soft yellow light that showcases Gale’s bright smile as he watches them being carried by the wind towards you.

You look at him instead. How the lights’ twinkle reflects in his eyes. His excitement when the lanterns float close enough for him to guide one back into the air.

As the lights slowly drift away Gale turns to you, grasping both of your hands into his. “Thank you. Truly. I wouldn’t have even left my tower if it wasn’t for you. I am so very glad you came, to share this with me.” He looks at you so earnestly. It feels like your very soul has been set ablaze.

“I have enjoyed our time together. A little too much, perhaps.” There is a shake in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“With you, I feel happy, safe. You must know you’re- you’re very special to me.”

A breath.

“With you, I forget my goddess.” That last bit is spoken as if it is a secret only meant for your ears. It makes your heart skip a beat.

“I don’t think I want to go back to the tower. You’ve shown me there is so much for me to see, to learn, to experience out here.” One of his hands releases yours to reach up and take out his earring.

“Mystra gave this to me as a token of our relationship.” With one quick motion he throws the silver earring into the lake, for it to sink into its inky depths.

“But that is in the past. I want to move forward now,” His hands clutch yours again, the same shake present as in the tavern.

“, with you, if you’ll have me.”

Time seems to stop.

Your brain, seemingly unable to present an eloquent agreement, instead moves your hand to softly cup his cheek.

You lean in closer, his breath tickling your face, yours probably doing the same to him. You can feel his face starting to heat up underneath your palm.

Just when you are about to meet in the middle Gale suddenly halts his movement, his suddenly stern gaze fixed on something behind you.

“Is everything alright?” It isn’t, you can tell, but can’t stop yourself asking.

“Yes. I just-” He takes a breath, steadying himself before turning his gaze to you again. “I need to take care of something before we leave.”

Once back on land Gale nervously asks you to wait by the boat until he comes back before disappearing into the dark of the forest.

You sit there, anxiously waiting for him to come back as seconds turn to minutes which turns to close to an hour.

About to lose hope of Gale coming back you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of a dark figure emerging from the forest. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d ran back to your tower and left me.”

Your smile leaves your face when the figure comes closer, revealing not Gale, but a tall, slender woman with dark hair.

Mystra.

“He did.” Her voice is smooth, powerful.

“What?” You start to feel nauseous.

“Gale came to realise the mistake that was leaving his tower.” You’re shaking now, tears welling up. “No, he- we were-” She interrupts you. “You were what? Come now dear, you didn’t think any of it was real, did you?”

“Now, dry those tears. He’s back where he belongs. With me.” She then disappears.

Confused and hurt you head back to town. You aimlessly wander the cobblestone streets, wondering if it indeed was all fake.

“Rough night, hon?” You stop and turn to the source of the voice. An older woman, dressed in a purple cloak. Her long, brown hair, decorated with silver streaks, pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck.

“I suppose you can say that.” She looks at you with, oddly familiar, dark eyes, framed by crow’s feet and laced with a melancholy sort of pain.

“It happens to the best of us. I can never find it in myself to be particularly joyous on this day.” She takes you by the arm. “Come child. I’ll put on the kettle for you.”

Her cottage is warm, homely. The tea is comforting, and so is the crackling hearth. You fall into easy conversation with the woman, Morena, as she introduced herself.

“Hmm, you know I started with the lanterns?” She reveals. “I hoped that one day my son would see them, and they would lead him back to me.”

“You have a son?” It would explain her motherly nature. “Yes, but he was taken from me when he was but a baby.” Her brows furrow. “His father sold him, so he could cure me. A witch took him. Apparently, my son had, has, a gift.” She takes a shaky breath. “I dropped that man as soon as I found out. Never saw him again, nor my son.”

Wait a minute.

“Your son. What was his name?” She looks at you, confused by your sudden desperation.

“Gale. I named him Gale.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

“I am so very sorry, Ms Dekarios, but I suddenly realized something, I have to go.” Surprised by your sudden rush she allows you to borrow her horse after you promise to bring it back.

“C’mon boy, let’s see how fast you can run.”  You ride through the forest, arriving at the boulder that shelters the hidden tower, dark clouds make it seem even more menacing than before.

You jump off your horse, rushing to the tall structure and ring the bell, thorns scratching at your hand in your rush. “Gale? Gale, I need to speak to you!”

Nothing seems to happen for a moment, then, instead of the familiar purple, a white haze surrounds your vision. When it clears you are back in that room. It is dark and in disarray, books strewn from their place on the shelves over the floor. Gale is nowhere to be found.

“Gale?” You call for him. A muffled sound catches your attention.

Gale is gagged and bound to a chair in the familiar way you were previously. Instead of purple, white tendrils hold him in place.

“You should have stayed away.” Mystra comes slithering into view behind Gale. “He. Is. Mine.” She traces her perfectly manicured nails across Gale’s face, causing him to flinch away. “And now you’ve forced my hand.”

Before you can reply you feel yourself being violently pushed by an invisible force. You go flying through the room and out its only window. The last thing you hear before hitting the ground is Gale’s panicked, muffled voice calling for you and the wind rushing through your ears.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the drops of rain hitting your face, the second is the darkness, and the third the pain.

You try and blink your sight back, to no avail, as you attempt to get up. As you wrestle your way out of the thorns you realise, they must have broken your fall, blinding you in the process.

Freed from the plants you kneel to the wet ground, breathing shakily. Bringing your trembling hands up to your face you gingerly feel around, finding cuts and torn flesh. You find yourself unable to tell the wetness of your blood apart from that of the rain. You bring your hands back to the ground, trying to find stability in the wet earth.

Unable to tell how long you’ve been out; you use your remaining senses to try and figure out what is going on.

You hear voices above you, though it’s hard to understand what they are saying above the clattering of the rain, the rushing of the wind, and the occasional clap of thunder.

“NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

Your suddenly hear a blast, loud enough to make you cover your ears. The earth beneath you shakes and a gust of what you can now clearly identify as magic passes through you.

You sit with bated breath, hands still digging into the ground. It has stopped raining.

A gush of wind, clumsy footsteps, a sharp gasp.

“You’re- I thought you were- I thought I would never see you again.” Gale’s voice shakes, heavy with emotion.

He collapses next to you, clutching your shoulders as if they are his only lifeline. You cry his name through a sob, bringing your hands up to hold onto his arms.

“Your eyes.” He breathes, his warm, gentle hand brushes over your cold, wet cheek.

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaky with adrenaline. “I’ll live. What happened up there?” You feel his forehead resting against yours. “She’s gone. I’m free.” He lets out his own shaky laugh as you feel your tears mixing with his.

When you go to blink the wetness from your ruined eyes you suddenly notice your vision growing better with each blink.

“Gale.” He hums and pulls back slightly, a shocked expression gracing his face when he does. “Your eyes!”

You laugh, honestly and earnestly, as does he, pulling you into a tight hug, which you gladly return.

“I have to tell you something. Something I didn’t have a chance to on that boat on the lake.” He pulls back slightly, looking at you intently. “I could go hours waxing poetry about how I feel about you, but I feel this situation calls for something simpler. I love you. Plainly and completely.”

You can’t hold back the smile tugging at your mouth. “And I love you.”

He then pulls you into a gentle kiss, filled with desperation and relief. It tastes of blood, and rain, and tears.

It is perfect.

“I hate to interrupt this sweet moment, but I would like to know where we are to go now?” You had almost forgotten about Tara you think, Gale spluttering excuses at her.

“I don’t think that is something we have to worry about. Gale there is someone I met while we were separated. I’m sure she would very much like to see you again.”

And there, back in that small town, after a tearful reunion with his sweet mother, you and Gale lived happily ever after.

Masterlist

Tag list: @glitterandgoldfinds

Thank you for reading <3

[dullgecko]

The idea of a goblin daisy chain in the middle of school will never not be funny to me and I can’t decide if I want it to be an instinct thing (I remember reading a post about goblins holding hands while out in the open so they’re less likely to be carried away by flying predators) or if it was literally just all the goblins individually deciding to join in and not wanting to be left out.

Also I imagine that at least some photos were taken of them and they quickly spread as of the most adorable things to ever happen at the school.

And Riz the extremely talented hyper aware rogue not noticing the sudden extra 5 goblins since he’s so busy and stressed making sure no one like has a panic attack or runs off chasing someone’s familiar is great.

The kids having to go to leviathan for help is great since it means more people get to see them all gobliny. Aelwyn in particular for all her mean girl bitchy front loses complete composure the second she’s see adaine, who’s just so SMALL and CUTE she can’t help but scoop her up.

If it was anyone else besides the other bad kids and possibly jawbone she would have freaked out but since it’s her sister someone familiar and safe while also being strong enough to protect both of them, Adaine fully embraces it.

Curling into her and burying her face into Aelwyns clothes trying to block out the rest of the world while she breathes in her sisters somehow familiar scent as she surprisingly begins to purr.

Also Aydas reaction to fig and everyone I can see her being just fully interested in the transformational properties of the spell and how aspects of their original race carried over to them etc but she does assures fig that she still finds her as visually appealing as she did before.

Also if the spell does last longer than any of them expected I can see fig dragging ayda away for some ‘relaxation’ which is how she figures out what the Riz and Fabian mixing scents meant.

Xx

Goblin daisy chain, hold hands to keep safe from aerial predators. Sprak and the underclassmen that joined in later just saw a group of other goblins and thought it was an event of some sort. Instincts also were demanding they group together once the group got bigger than 4 people.

Riz didn't notice immediatly because his perception is stretched so thin right now trying to watch his party, plus find all these people with the books they need, plus keep an eye out for anyone getting with in grabbing range. Look he is seventeen years old its undignified being squealed over like this and he swears he is going to shoot someone by the end of the day if they grab for adaine again.

While it was VERY cute to some people, the more racially biased among the students were a little freaked out by the rapidly expanding horde of goblins wandering the hallways. The number capped out at about 11 though, because that was literally the entire student body of goblins that the school currently had. Riz shooed the extras away after a while because they immediatly started flirting with his party and he was not in the mood to deal. Yes they're all very pretty but go away.

Riz is the one who called Aelwyn when they exhausted their resourses in the library because his party was rapidly becoming unhelpful in the research department. Adaine was so overstimulated and stressed that she was on the verge of shutting down and the rest of his party had no idea what to look for.

He got Jawbone to drive them back to Mordred before school even finished because technically getting cursed allows you a sick day. Aelwyn was already there waiting when they arrived and the noise she made upon seeing Adaine made their wizard flinch and freeze and she immediatly got scooped up. She seemed happier getting carried around by her sister though so Riz didnt snap at Aelwyn to put her down. He did get a little growl-y when she suggested they just keep Adaine like this because it's so adorable.

Weirdly enough, out of all the bad kids, Fig is the least affected by the whole weird-instincts thing. She's a LITTLE more manic than usual, and the light and sound is a little overstimulating, but she's at least acting mostly normal. Normal up until the point that she sees Ayda and is fully unable to form sentences because she's purring so much.

Ayda locks up the library to keep everyone out while they set about searching there. Its night time by now and quiet so his party is doing much better on the overstimulation front so they're actually able to help search. The stack of books they have to read through is taller than they are though and its going to take them hours.

Honestly its taking longer than they expected because Ayda is just fascinated by the entire thing and is studying them more than helping look for a solution. Plus, she finds Fig adorable and is amazed that her fire immunity has carried over into this form.

During one of their breaks (Riz does not take a break and fully snaps at the first person to try and make him) Ayda and Fig disappear to go have some fun. Fig doesnt say anything to Riz when she gets back but gives him a knowing look, nods her head towards Fabian and snickers. Riz contemplates shooting himself. Fabian just looks smug again and ambushes Riz in between the bookshelves when he leaves to go find a reference dictionary for a second go. At least their rogue is noticibly less bite-y now, though still exhausted.

When they do find the solution (Gorgug managed to find it while checking if any artificer spells would help, greatest wizard of our age) it doesnt take them especially long to get turned back. Riz is so releived in the end that he just lies on the floor among all the books they have to reshelve and fully conks out for a nap.

[lendeah]

Hey I saw ur recent thing about astarion/durge w scars and I raise to Astarion/Tav with a shit ton of scars they actually do have stories for (either really dumb or really cool or kinda traumatic) and astarry just lovingly traces them and asks about them

YES!!! I love the idea.

Here you go, I hope you enjoy it and thanks for asking! 🤍🫶🏻

Astarion loved tracing the little scars dotting your body. Even in moments of exhaustion, as you both lay on the bedroll after a arduous day of battle, he would gently trace the intricate lines of your skin with lazy fascination.

"Now, I bet this one has a story worth hearing," he drawls, caressing with his finger along the long scar on your arm.

You let out a small chuckle and decide to humor him. "This one here? That was from a sword fight. I was trying to protect my brother because he had been having an affair with a married woman, and it got pretty intense. I ended up taking a pretty bad hit, but luckily I lived through it."

The vampire cocks an eyebrow, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "So let me get this straight," he drawls, "you got this scar defending your brother's honor from a scorned lover? Sounds like your brother could have used some self-defense lessons."

You shrug "I guess, but he is my brother. I couldn't just let him struggle on his own. Besides, I'm the better fighter of the two of us." you say with a smirk.

A mischievous chuckle escapes his lips, "Always the hero, huh?" he lets out a resigned sigh, but his eyes glint playfully. "You know, your stubborn selflessness isn't the most attractive trait."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh really? And what is my most attractive trait to you?"

Astarion chuckles, then brings his cold fingers to your forehead, gently brushing the skin there, "This scar above your eye? It's quite the attractive feature. Really adds to your whole intimidating aura," he purrs, "I must hear the tale behind it."

You roll your eyes, trying not to let his teasing get to you. "Ugh, that one gave me nightmares for weeks." You say with a grimace. "I was being chased by an angry tabern owner because I may or may not have stolen some of his ale. Anyway, he caught up to me and I fought him off as best as I could, but he still managed to get a knife to my face." You shudder at the memory and the thought of your mother's scolding afterwards.

Astarion chuckles, "Oh darling, you? Stealing? And ale, of all things? Positively scandalous. I find it hard to believe."

You give him a playful glare, "Oh please, I was young and reckless. Plus, the ale was really good."

He shakes his head in disbelief, but the fondness in his eyes is unmistakable. As he takes your hand in his, his soft fingers tracing over the familiar lines and curves, you feel a warmth spread through your chest. His thumb gently traces the jagged scar on your palm, "This one looks like a fish bone" He says with a smirk.

You roll your eyes "Yeah, well, I got that one in an attempt to save my friends when I was young." you say "We were out at sea enjoying the warm weather, when suddenly a massive creature emerged from the depths. It had razor-sharp teeth and writhing tentacles, and before we knew it, our boat was under attack. I reached out to help my friends and next thing I know, I'm tangled up in this thing's grasp. Thank the gods a wizard happened to witness our struggle and put down the beast. Lesson learned: never underestimate the power of the ocean's creatures."

He rolls his eyes back, "Of course the heroic, strong, selfless and pretty one would make something like that sound like a normal and not crazy thing to do." He looks back at your hand, "But no worries, darling, your hand is just fine. In fact, it's quite charming in its own rugged way." He says, taking your palm to his lips, making you shiver. Despite his teasing, there is a genuine admiration in his voice that warms your heart. His hand then moves up to cup your cheek. "You certainly have an interesting collection of scars."

You can't help but blush at his words, feeling a mix of happiness and vulnerability. No one has ever taken the time to truly listen to your stories before, let alone find them interesting. But with Astarion, it feels different, like he sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all.

"Back home, some people said I was a monster because of them" you say, gesturing to the marks on your body, "but I like them, I think they all have a story behind them worth telling."

Astarion raises an eyebrow, "People called you a monster? What foolishness."

You shrug, "It's just how things were back in my hometown. They were afraid of anything different or out of the ordinary."

A playful glint dances in his eyes and his sharp fangs glisten. "Oh, I'm sure I'm a real nightmare to them," he quips with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, "Well, it's not every day someone meets a charming vampire like yourself."

Astarion leans in closer, his warm breath tickling your skin. "You know, I never tire of hearing your stories. You always manage to surprise me."

You feel your cheeks flush at his words, but before you can respond, Astarion leans in and presses his lips against yours softly. It's sweet and gentle, but also filled with unspoken words and emotions, and you can't help but wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as you both lose yourselves in each other.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, breathless and smiling. "I could listen to your stories all day," he murmurs.

"Well, lucky for you I have plenty more where those came from." you reply with a teasing grin. "Ah, but what about your scars?"

Astarion's playful smirk returns as he starts tracing your skin again. "Oh, mine? They come from a life of bloodlust and and danger."

[itsthatpearl]

Layout idea from @secret-smut-sideblog 🩸

Astarion x F!OC

Dawn of Love

Chapter 1: Farewell Wanderlust

AO3 LINK

Aura gets to know her new companion better

Word count: 1.9k

Thank you Janna for beta reading <3

TRIGGERS: Dry humping, blood, kissing, vampire bites, sexual tension, mentions of past trauma, angst, ptsd.

----

I sat on a log watching the others from a small distance. The wizard of Waterdeep was explaining something to the tiny group around him. Only one was missing. 

The Pale Elf.

I felt a wind brush against my back and suddenly a man with white hair sat next to me.

“You look like you need a drink” I heard him purr, maybe a bit too close to me.

“A drink?” I raised my brow and looked at him. His eyes met mine quickly and he gave me a smug smile. What a prick.

“Indeed. Here, darling” he handed me a bottle of red wine. I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip. 

“I thought your…kind…didn’t drink anything else than…” I struggled to find the correct words.

“Blood?” he asked and took the bottle from me taking a long sip.

“Y-yes” I nod and look at the group again. It had been a few days since Astarion had woken me up with him hovering on top of me, teeth bared. We had made an arrangement. I would let him drink from me and he’d be a strong help in fights. Gods. The way he had looked that night. Pleading. Starved. Needy. And when I finally gave him the permission to drink from my neck, he forgot all the delicacy he normally portrayed. I could still feel the tiny tingling on the place he had his fangs in. The way my body responded to it. The way a single tear ran down my cheek from the pain. I could still hear the way he gasped for air in between the suckling and the soft moan that escaped from my lips that I had forgotten to swallow down. 

There was nothing between us. And there wouldn’t be. 

“Well, to be honest, it tastes like shit. But I can’t drink blood from a wine bottle, so this will do” he flashed a fangy smile at me.

I get it. I didn’t know much about him, but yesterday morning he had mentioned to me that he had a past with a vampire lord called Cazador Szarr. I had only heard a few tales of him. Gossips about him having seducers to lure pretty girls to be his dinner. My mother had always told me to be careful walking outside alone at night. “Aurora, you could get taken by the night! You can’t sneak out like that!” she had said.

“Speaking of blood…do you need it tonight?” I asked carefully. He looked at the group, then back at me and smiled the same mischievous, fangy smile. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask”.

Everyone was fast asleep. Only light was the slowly dying fire in the middle of the camp. Astarion had gone hunting. I was already in my bedroll. It had been quite a while since he left. Maybe he didn’t want to come after all? Maybe he found a big prey somewhere and doesn't need my blood tonight…

But suddenly the scent of bergamot and brandy filled my senses. He came. I sat up to meet a pair of glowing red eyes. 

“Good, you're awake” he purred quietly.

I couldn't help but feel heat rise up my cheeks. Was I blushing? 

“Did you have a good hunt?” I asked, trying not to pay attention to my face that probably matched his eyes. 

“I’ve had better. But that doesn’t matter, not now. What matters, is that I am here and would like to take a bite of that lovely neck of yours” he smirked. 

I nodded and started to open my blouse so he could access my neck easier. He watched me quietly and slowly moved closer.

“Do you want to lay down?” he asked. 

“If it’s okay to you, last time I did feel a bit dizzy afterwards” I answered quietly. He smiled and gestured to me to lay down.

I laid down on my back, placing a pillow under my head for support. Astarion moved swiftly on top of me, placed his mouth next to my jugular and breathed in. 

“Delicious” he muttered. I had to bite my lip hard to keep me from gasping out loud.

Calm down. You are nothing more than his dinner and he is nothing more than just a traveling companion.

“Are you ready?” he whispered. I nodded, closing my eyes.

As soon as his teeth penetrated my soft skin the pain and fear flooded my body. But as those sensations came in, they were replaced with something else. Ecstasy. I tried my best to stiffen the moans that wanted to get out of my body. 

He started gulping down my blood eagerly. I felt the tiny tingling in my limbs again. He knows when to stop. Suddenly I felt the heat from my cheeks flush down, down in between my legs. Hells. Now is NOT the time for that. 

My hand flew to grip his hand. I need something to ground me. He answered with his drinking slowing down. Was he…taking his time?

Suddenly my clothed core was met with his in one, delicate brush. I could feel my pupils dilating as I moaned out loud. My hand flew to cover my mouth. Maybe he didn’t notice. But I was proven wrong as soon as it happened again. He pushed himself in between my legs while slowly drinking me down and matching the pace with his body. The friction was too good. I started to feel incredibly dizzy. Was it because of him feasting from my neck or the fact that we were basically dry-humping each other.

Then my vision darkened. 

“Ast…arion…” I muttered before falling into the sweet darkness.

“Are you a fucking idiot??” I heard a woman say. “You could've killed her?? When the fuck did you two start this? I thought your hunting was enough?”.

I opened my eyes to see our black haired cleric shaking her head. I coughed and tried to sit up.

“Be careful!” a second voice said and helped me up. I looked at who I thought to be Astarion to see Gale.

“Gale, she is obviously fine, stop fussing over her” I heard the vampire say. He walked next to me from behind Gale and smiled. “Rise and shine, darling!” Astarion giggled.

I gave him a shy smile. “Did I sleep long?” I asked and stretched out.

“Well if we can call that sleep. You lost way too much blood. I had to give you mine AND Gale’s healing potions…” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. 

Gale looked at me a bit worried. I smile warmly at every person in the room. “I am okay, I wanted Astarion to be in the best condition possible since we will raid the goblin camp soon, so I gave him the permission to drink as much as he could” I lied with a convincing smile. Astarion looked at me, and I could swear his shoulders relaxed a tiny bit.

“You little minx, you lie like you're telling the truth” he tutted later while we washed clothes in the lake nearby. I smirked.

“Well, I had a very strict mother growing up. I wasn’t allowed to go outside late at night, not meet boys-” I started.

“-So anything normal and fun for a young elf was prohibited?” he laughed out loud. I shook my head and laughed.

“She was…alot” I smiled.

For a moment we just stared at each other. Then I remembered what happened last night and cleared my throat:

“I am sorry for what happened last night. I got…carried away. It won’t happen again” I looked away blushing.

He laughed loudly and shook his head.

“Oh darling, no need to apologize. The pleasure is all mine” he smirked.

I looked back at him trying to cipher his face. It looked genuine, but there was something behind it. 

“Alright” I nodded and tried to get a very stubborn stain out of my favorite shirt. Astarion looked at my hands and reached out for his bag. 

“Here, I made it myself, pour it on the stain” he smiled. I looked at a bottle of a clear liquid in his hand and took it. “What is it?” I asked opening it. It smelled like peppermint.

“Stain remover, I use it to get blood out of clothes. Can’t ruin my favorite shirts every mealtime” he shrugged smiling. I smiled back and poured a tiny amount of the liquid on the stain. After rubbing it for a few moments, the stain started to disappear until it was gone completely.

“Thank you” I smiled, giving the bottle back to him. Our hands brushed on each other just for a moment, and we looked at each other. His touch was cold, reminding me that this man was not alive. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. His bright ruby eyes wandered from my eyes to my lips and down to my neck. 

“Are you…hungry?” I muttered. He didn’t lift his eyes to meet mine, but he nodded slowly.

“Do you…want to come here?” I asked quietly. He looked at me as he moved closer. My heart pounded harder and quicker than ever before. His hands wrapped around me too slowly as I leaned in to kiss him. His lips were cold at first, but warmed up after a few kisses. 

Slow. Delicate. My hands moved up to caress the back of his head as he caressed my lower back. His lips moved from my lips to kiss my jaw. Gods. As his lips wandered down to my neck I held my breath waiting for the stinging pain to come. But it didn’t. Instead he kept kissing the spot he had been feeding from earlier. I moaned softly as my head tilted back to give him more space. The kisses became more bruising, more frantic and my core got wetter and wetter. 

Then he bit down on my neck harder than ever before. I cried out gripping his hair, but not in pain. In lust. He gulped my blood down a few times until he let go of my neck and inhaled eyes closed. I looked at him. He looked like the most beautiful creature in the whole world. And there he was. In my arms, getting lost in me. I closed my eyes and kissed him. The metallic red sticky substance filled my senses as we devoured each other. He gripped my waist hard enough to leave marks and I gripped his hair even harder. I started to glide my hands down his neck. I need to feel his skin on mine. When my hands met his shoulder blades, I felt the smooth skin turn different under the sheer tunic. As if the skin was…scarred.

Then suddenly Astarion winced, pulling him away from me. His eyes opened and stared deep into mine. I was too afraid to move as if it would make him disappear. As if it would scare him, making him run away like a wild deer into the night. What the fuck have I done.

Then he suddenly stood up and cleared out his throat. “You need to go to sleep, we have a long day tomorrow” he said with a strange, cold tone. I looked at him quietly. 

“Yes. You are right” I shook my head, looked down and started to gather my belongings from the ground quietly. 

“I…Did I do something wro-” I started to say as I lifted my face from the ground to see Astarion gone. He had left already.

I was back in my bedroll looking at the sky in silence. It had been at least two hours since he disappeared and he had not come back to the camp. Everyone else was already asleep. All I could think was the way Astarion had looked at me.

What did Cazador do to him?

----

Thank you for reading my first chapter to this fic <3 I hope you enjoyed it, I promise this will be a wild ride!

[depressedcoffeeobsess]

Ooh I hope you had a lovely birthday 🥳 even if I’m a bit late soz I just saw it on one of your posts tho. If your requests are still open, would you write something for Charlie Weasley? 🙏he’s so underrated I really wish we had more fics. I mean, who wouldn’t love a hot dragon riding Weasley?? Kind, compassionate, animal loving, funny, down to earth, strong, scars, handsome, intelligent… I could go on…

Heeeey there anon! Totally! I just didnt know what category to put Charlie into. Thanks for requesting <33

• 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐈𝐧—𝐥𝐚𝐰 •

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐆𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 , 𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 , 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐑𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐈𝐧—𝐥𝐚𝐰. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧-𝐭𝐨-𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞. "𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐡" 𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬.

[𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 at the burrow for chrismas with his girlfriend. He told Molly over a few letters because the first three letters were answered by fred and george. He decided it was a good idea after knowing Bill would be staying for chrismas aswell. He even asked his girlfriend if she wanted to come with him. And she obviously wanted to stay for three main reasons; she was hgoing to see Harry Potter , she was going to see Fred and George that Charlie always talked about. And lastly she would get to enjoy with his family , a never forgetting chrismas.

They left for the burrow the day before chrismas. Chrismas eve to be exact. "Are you excited love?" He asked with a ting of concern in his voice. He was scared you didnt want to meet his parents and family.

"Of course I am! I get to see Harry Potter , Fred and George" She said full of excitement in her joyful voice. She was a young looking pretty fellow that charlie had seen at a small bar near his home in Romania. He asked for her name occasionally complimenting her too. He became good friends with you after just a week. He decided to ask you to be his girlfriend after just seven months.

They arrived at the burrow no longer then four hours later. He could already smell the burrow—like environment. He took a deep breath in closing his eyes. And exhaled turning to the lady next to him. "Cant you see this is what you call home these days" she laughed a little.

"I agree its so homely here. I mean I can already smell fresh cookies and mischief here" she said with sarcasm dripping in her voice. This time charlie even laughed. "Lets get in" so they got to the door and was about to open it, when suddenly a very tired looking percy opened the door.

"Oh hello there charlie . . . and stranger" he said very sleepily. Her eyes widened looking at the young wizard. He pushed past them entering the small garage near by.

Just then Ginny past by the door and did a dounble take looking at charlie and then at the women eyes widened. "Mum! Charlie's here!" She shouted and ran out the brokrn down door to hug him. She engulfed him in a tight , bone crushing hug. Once she let go Ginny looked at you. Then back at charlie as a way of asking for permission. Charlie simply nodded at you as a way of saying 'yes go ahead'. Ginny smiled and gave you a big cozy hug.

They went inside to see breakfast set on the table and seven chairs empty. He sat down on a chair next to Bill (who was infact already there). The women sat next to him gracefully. Apparently Ron was not up yet so he wasn't having breakfast yet. They had a lovely dinner fiull of questions and answers. Mr. Weasley had come at the end of breakfast after a night raid. He too welcomed her into there home like she was apart of their family.

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ron had woke up from his 'deep' slumber. He was still waiting for Harry and Hermione to come. Well mostly for Harry. Ron's rat , Scabbers had escaped yet again. Although Ron thought that fred or george had stole him. "RONALD WEASLEY!" a scorching sound—more like shout—came from downstairs. Ron gulped and got out of bed tip toeing to find his mother already on the stairs , hands on her hips and steam rising from her ears.

"Hello there mum . . . " ron said quietly scared for his own life. "Is Harry here?" He asked his mother again.

"HOW DARE YOU ASK IF HARRY HAS COME OR NOT! YOUR BROTHERS AND HIS GIRLFRIEND ARE HERE!" She shouted. Ron could just see Fred and George's large smiles already holding back a laugh.

"Sorry mum" he whispered. He looked down at the floor with guilt covering his face.

"What are waiting for!" She said ready to shoo ron away. Ron muttered another sorry and flinched away on the stairs. By now Fred and George's laughter was at its last. Ron glared at his Twin brothers.

"You must be Ron" came a sweet , joyful voice. Ron looked up to see a lady standing infront of him. Her pretty eyes sparkling as she looked at him. Ron immediately flushed bright red.

"Uh—yes?" He asked. It looked more like he was looking for her name.

"This is my girlfriend Ron" Charlie said coming behind and wrapping an strong arm around her. He pecked her lips lovingly. Ron showed immediate disgust seeing this.

"Could you do my hair like you did yours?" Asked Ginny. You immediately nodded in agreement and headed up for ginny's room.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 day ron and the weasley's had a great time with their new In—law. Unlike everyone Ron enjoyed spending time with you most. Even going out of his way to name you the 'cool' In—law. Harry had arrived the other day on chrismas with hermione near him. They didnt see his aunt yet because she wasd sleeping in bed.

"Hey Harry?" He asked.

"Yes Ron?" Harry simply answered

"Do you wanna see my New Cool In-law?" He asked hoping harry would.

"You have an one?" Harry asked confused as ron had never mentioned her in there talks together.

"Yeah! Is that a yes?" He asked. harry nodded. Ron Pulled Harry by the arm into the kitchen to see Charlie's girlfriend baking gingerbread cookies with Molly and Hermione. She spotted ron ever so fastly.

"Oh hello there Ron. Do you need anything?" She asked in her cunning sweet voice.

"See?" Ron whispered into Harry's right ear. Harry nodded in understandment. "This here is my friend Harry. And you've already met Hermione i see" Ron said to her.

"Oh hello there Harry" she said walking over to them hiding her excitement. "Im so happy to meet you. Ron has said so many lovely things about you dear"

"He has?" Harry asked turning his head towards Ron. Ron nodded happily.

"Ah , i see you've finally met Harry" a voice came behind them. It was Charlies of course. Charlie went over to her and kissed her lips in a compassionate kiss. Ron threw the disguised disgusted face again.

"C'mon lets go Harry" he muttered not letting harry answer as he already dragged him away.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 : 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐞? 𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.