#Rai writes

[maharlika]

invitation

a ficlet about astarion and his parents. a bit of halstarion in this. for @dancinbutterly

—

Astarion fretfully twisted his hands together as the carriage made its winding way up the hill. Even in the moonlight, the house that sat at the peak of the hill was large and imposing, so different from the vine-entangled cottage of his childhood.

Apparently, his parents had found wealth and fortune after he’d died. 

Large, sun-kissed hands covered his own. Halsin kept his eyes on the road outside even as his thumb stroked across Astarion’s knuckles.

“I’m fine,” Astarion said, the first words he’d spoken since they’d embarked on this hours-long journey to Brittlerun, which was rapidly reaching its end. Astarion didn’t know whether to be relieved—his back hurt—or utterly terrified.

“It’s all right not to be,” Halsin said, his deep voice soothing in its familiar rumble. Astarion relaxed by a fraction, only for his breath to catch on his throat as the carriage pulled to a stop outside the manor. 

The Ancunin Manor, which locals called the Sun Manor, was even more striking up close, with its massive windows and marble-wrought terraces. In a twist of irony that Astarion considered all too appropriate, the house had been built to welcome as much daylight as possible.

A balm to his mother’s spirits, something to soothe her grief. They had made accommodations for Astarion’s visit, of course. Or so the letters had promised.

Halsin and Astarion stepped out of the carriage, grass whispering under their feet as they made their way through the rosebush-lined path to the porch. He tried to think of something pithy to say, but his mind was a tangled mess and he could tease no coherent thought out of it. And Halsin could not be counted on for distraction—he was far too solemn about this whole affair.

Astarion’s throat tightened as he saw the two figures outlined in the moon’s silvery glow, waiting by the striking hardwood front doors. He stopped in his tracks, knees suddenly weak. 

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, head bowing in trepidation.

Halsin placed a hand on his back, and pushed him gently. “You can,” he said. 

And so Astarion did. 

Tears sprung to his eyes as soon as he could make out his mother’s face. His mouth opened in trembling, half-parted frown, but even if his mind could have formed words, his throat would not have cooperated. 

It hardly mattered: his father had stepped forward, taking three great strides to pull Astarion into a crushing embrace. 

Astarion’s face crumpled, and he pressed his face to his father’s shoulder, a sob wrenched out of his chest. “Papa,” he sobbed. “Papa.”

“My darling boy,” said his father through tears, his embrace almost painful in its desperation. “Welcome home.”

“Astarion,” his mother said, coming up behind them. “Let me see you, dear love.”

Astarion wiped at his tears, an automatic and futile reflex, as his father stepped back, and his mother took his face in her hands—those beloved hands. He remembered them in his childhood, rough from labor, from running a household, from spinning flax and cotton. Now, how smooth they were from a life of comfort, if not happiness. 

“Your eyes,” his mother murmured, and Astarion flinched, turning his head away. 

“No, no,” she said, “look at me, love. I want to see all of you.”

Astarion blinked away his tears as she leaned in to kiss his forehead. “You always were a beautiful boy,” his mother said.

“And now, I always will be,” Astarion joked weakly. 

“Nothing more beautiful than seeing you whole and hale,” his mother said, matter-of-fact. His father, behind them, was still weeping. 

“Come,” his mother said, taking his hand and leading him to the door.

“I—” Astarion started, staring at the threshold. He choked out the words: “I have to be invited in.”

“Then come in, my child,” his mother said, her voice wet with tears. “You are always welcome here.”

[raiswanson]

Last Lines Tag

tagged by @writeouswriter! Thanks!

This excerpt is from a short I'm writing for a prompt list this month (if anyone is interested, here it is!), based on a WIP I don't really talk about a lot here. So. Sorry? >.>

Everyone was putting their all into maintaining the atmosphere. Dancers had whirled onstage almost nonstop since daybreak, much to the delight of onlookers. The smell of food flooded the air, hanging heavy around camp in a mouthwatering fog that stirred even full stomachs. Hawker alley hadn’t stopped calling out to visitors to regale them on their products since the first traveler had set foot on the grounds. All around me, camp was alive. Boiling with activity and sights. This was a once-or-twice in a lifetime opportunity to see the tribe in peak form. And I was on babysitting duty.

My tag list remains in shambles, I have no idea who is still active or doing tag games anymore. But I'll pick who I think is still alive-- @lady-redshield-writes @tundra-tiger @incandescent-creativity @ren-c-leyn @jesse-is-inarguably-purple @universalfanfic @inkandkeyboard and @writeouswriter again, if you have more lines you want to share!

[blogfordantreacy]

I was tagged by @kittensittin in the WIP game forever ago and kept meaning to and forgetting to post something!

I am working on one (1) fic, and it’s postcards (iykyk). It’s taking FOREVER and honestly I’m not even sure it’s good anymore but here’s a little bit!

“Dear Ted,

I Googled pictures of Kansas at Christmas, just to visualize what you might see when you look out your window. I imagine you must be so pleased to spend the holiday with your little boy. I’m in Lithuania with my mum, which is just as zany and healing as it sounds. Honestly, when she proposed the trip, I wondered if she had brought you over to surprise me. That’s silly, I know, but this time of year makes me that much more hopeful.

Happy Christmas Ted,

Rebecca”

I’m tagging honestly whoever wants to go bc again I am deeply behind!

[dwhorrai]

Maybe she’s right and I just need to be patient. I think he’s warming up to me. I just hope that he’s happy, no matter who he’s with.

(though how i’d love if it was me)

[mischievous-thunder]

Logan's drunken monologue after realising how hard he's fallen for Wade and there's no way but to surrender and let the power of love guide him

[syn4k]

if anyone ever finds a way to legit cheat death then my money's on ao3 authors being the ones who do

[chloelovesu]

[insanegirlbloging]

sorry for being extremely pretty and not knowing how to start a conversantion

[thoughtkick]

That’s the whole secret: To do things that excite you.

Ray Bradbury, The Art of Fiction No. 203

[earlycuntsets]

2010 danger days preproduction

from 2010 mychemicalromance.com

[andersonfilms]

Abby and reader getting into an argument where they both know r is right but Abby is just being so goddamn stubborn ohmygod. So r just ups and flashes Abby with their tits to shut her up. Abby stutters and slowly loses her resolve until she finally shortcircuits

❛ THE PRETTY GIRL BEHIND THE BAR. ❜

♱

†⠀warnings y disclaimers — eighteen+, dom!reader, sub!abby, poc!friendly, jealous!abby, soft nsfw, stubborn!abby.

Abby never should have been flirting with the bartender. She knows it just as well as you do. You had every right to be upset. Abby was your girl, not anyone else's, and she just let it happen. Right in front of you.

It made you sick and God, her dismal of it was even more infuriating. Her stubbornness shining through as you tried to make her see where you were coming from, but it seemed the attention was going right to her head.

"So, what if she was flirting? Why does it matter?" Abby was trying to worm her way out, but you wouldn't let her. Not this time.

"It's one thing to entertain it Abby but c'mon, look with your eyes. You let her feel you up right in front of me. Do you seriously not see how disrespectful that is?”

"She was not all over me and she did not feel me up." Abby defended.

"Really? You're going to play dumb right now? That's the side you want to take. You've got to be kidding me." Clearly, you were frustrated but your words only angered Abby.

"You're calling me dumb right now? For the love of god, she didn't touch me."

"Maybe you didn't notice because you were too caught up in the pretty girl behind the bar but anyone with eyes could see she was all over you." You walked away from her as the two of you walked into your shared apartment as Abby slammed the door behind her.

"She kept touching your arm and you did nothing. She tugged at the end of your braid; you did nothing. Anderson, she was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and you just let her! It was like I was fucking invisible." You were beyond pissed and the smirk on her lips wasn't helping.

Abby was too damn confident for her own good, always putting her foot in her mouth before she even spoke.

"Anderson? Wow. You're really angry, baby." She took a step closer, but you took two steps back.

"Don't 'baby' me. Are you being serious right now?"

You couldn’t believe her. She had the nerve to stand there, beautiful as can be, with a smile you would kill for but right now? You wanted nothing more than to deck her in the face. Abby always did this, and it pissed you off to no fucking end. Abby always had to let you know how wanted she is and how lucky you were to have her. It truly was nauseating.

“Just admit it, Anderson. She fucking touched you and you let her.” You threw it back at her, tired of this back and forth.

“If you call me Anderson one more time, I swear to god.”

“You’ll what? Flirt with someone else in front of me?” You stepped forward, cocking your head to the side. “I have to say, the more you do it, it might just lose it’s impact.”

“Are you sure? You’re pretty wound up right now, baby. Just can’t stand when my attention is elsewhere, can you?” 

You wanted to scream at her, but you couldn’t. Even if the chances of those baby blues welling up into tears were slim, you couldn’t let your anger get the best of you. All of this was intentional. Her pressing, her flirting, her acting like she oblivious to it. Abby wanted a reaction out of you. Boy, was she getting one. Still, you didn’t want to do anything to upset her, even if it seemed she was trying to do the opposite for you.

If she wanted to play with fire, so be it. You’d just have to cool her off enough so you could have a conversation about this without her cocky persona jumping in at any given moment.

The smirk dropped from her Abby’s face as soon as her brain registered what you were doing. Carefully, nimble fingers were unbuttoning the vest top you had on. You’d worn it just for her too. Abby loves the way it makes your breasts look, cleavage busting at the top. It usually would make her insatiable, but no. Tonight, she decided to keep her attention elsewhere.

You would make her pay for it.

“What are you doing?” Her breath hitches, and you try to smirk but you’re failing just as she was before.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“W-We’re fighting now, right?” Abby was so unsure of herself. Part of her believed she was imagining this. You slowly taking off your top, and God you weren’t wearing a bra either.

You really were trying to kill her, Abby thought.

“Yep, you’re really pissing me off, Anderson.”

“T-them, uh, why- oh fuck.” Abby tried to speak but it trailed off to a curse as you tossed your top onto the back of couch and made your way right to her.

“Why don’t you tell me exactly why your attention was elsewhere?” Your perky tits on display for her was torture, because she knew if she tried to touch you, her hand would be smacked immediately.

“C’mon, don’t be shy Anderson. Tell how much of a crazy fucking girlfriend I am. Go on. Fucking speak.” You demanded from her, but the blonde still found herself tripping over her words, unable to complete one sentence.

“I-I, um, y-y-you know, fuck, what do you want me to say baby? Please, I’ll do anything. Jus’ want to make it up to you.” Her eyes maintain eye contact with flesh exposed for her enjoyment, or rather yours. You liked doing this to her. Flipping the dominate switch to submissive and watching her crumble.

Abby knew it would be more than worth it once you had the harness and strap on, fucking her so dumb. Her pussy fluttered at the thought of it. She wanted you to stretch her out – turn her into your little fuck toy. You liked it, loved it even. Tearing apart someone so strong, until she was putty in your hands and begging for it.

It’s what she deserved after pulling the little stunt today.

She needed to be put in her place and you were more than happy to oblige.

“For starters, stop looking at my tits and look in my eyes.” Abby obeyed you, anticipating your next move.

“Now, be a good girl. Go upstairs, strip for me. I want you naked on the bed, and Mommy will be up there to remind you exactly who you belong to.” You slapped her ass as she moved hastily up the steps leading into your bedroom.

Let’s just say, Abby was in the for a long night.

[maharlika]

flight

a short halstarion ficlet i wrote for @kingthunder for the prompt: "halsin teaches astarion how to wildshape into a bat"

uhhh that's not quite what happens here, but i hope you enjoy this ramble anyway! this is pre-relationship also so kajdlakjsd

--

Astarion stops short right outside of Halsin’s tent, and clears his throat.

“Druid, I’d like to speak with you.”

There’s shuffling from inside the tent, and then the door flap parts and Halsin steps out. Astarion fights the reflex to take a step back––he always forgets just how much larger the other elf is. 

“Astarion,” Halsin says, inclining his head in greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Astarion looks askance at the rest of the camp. Everyone seems occupied, but in such a small space, and with such insatiable gossips as Gale, Karlach and Withers, there’s no telling who might be listening in.

“Perhaps we could speak in private,” Halsin says, clearly reading Astarion’s worry. 

“Perhaps,” Astarion replies. Halsin lifts the entrance to his tent and gestures as Astarion blinks in surprise.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Oh, I––all right.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Astarion hunches down and enters Halsin’s tent. Contrary to what he’d expected, the tent isn’t a bear’s den. Inside, it is sparse but clean, and it smells like rich soil and herbs. There’s a bedroll tucked into one corner, and green moss covers the floor like a soft blanket. 

Astarion takes a ginger cross-legged seat while Halsin rummages around in one of his packs.

“I’m sure you’d prefer something more––sanguine, but all I have is tea,” Halsin says, his back to Astarion. He’s a hulking thing in the enclosed space, and Astarion feels a zip of something that’s not-quite-apprehension slithering down his spine to be so close to something that he knows could maul him in a blink of an eye.

“I can’t remember the last time I drank tea. I don’t know if I can,” Astarion says.

“Even if you can’t, it’s a cold night out––maybe you’d like to keep your hands warm.”

With that, Halsin pours them both tea in wooden cups. Astarion rubs his thumb across the smooth grain and watches Halsin from the rim of the cup as he takes a careful sip.

“I didn’t come here for tea, you know,” Astarion says as a pocket of warmth settles somewhere in his chest. 

“I know,” Halsin says serenely, looking at Astarion with an unnervingly frank gaze. “What is it that you need?”

“I don’t know if it’s polite to ask.”

Halsin raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know the first thing about druids,” Astarion continues, before he can stop himself or think better of it. “Well––I do know some things. But I’d like to ask…when you’re––when you become a bear, are you still in there? Inside of––the animal?”

Halsin listens to Astarion intently, with no sign of derision or amusement. 

“You’re not the first to ask the question, and you’ll not be the last,” Halsin says, after a moment and another sip of tea. “Many druids have philosophized long and hard on this, but I shall not subject you to my people’s ramblings. It is different for every druid, but suffice it to say: yes, we are still ‘in there’. I am the beast, and the beast is me. It is only my form that changes, not my personhood. When I am in Wild Shape, though, it is true that the affairs of people seem much less…important. Other things are magnified instead. Emotions, desires, senses. It is easy to get lost in them.

And there have been…accounts, of course. Live as a beast for long enough, content yourself with the thoughts of a beast and the actions of a beast, and you may lose yourself. But for a regular druid spending short spans of time in Wild Shape, it is of no consequence.”

Astarion drinks Halsin’s words like parched ground drinking the rain. 

“Would you teach me?” he asks. “Is it possible for someone like me to learn?”

If Halsin is surprised by the question, he does not show it. He brings his tea to his mouth and takes a long swallow, closing his eyes as he ponders. 

“It is a skill like any other,” Halsin says. “I have seen you use magic, and our kind is naturally attuned to the natural world. I don’t see why not.”

“And you’re not going to ask me why?” Astarion says warily.

“Would you tell me?”

“Well, not if you don’t ask,” Astarion says, fighting and failing not to pout. “You’re ruining my aura of mystery, you know.”

“Apologies,” Halsin says with a huff of laughter. “Astarion, why would you like to learn Wild Shape?”

“I think I would make a very fetching bat,” Astarion says flippantly. “And I do tire of walking all day. Tav takes us up all these mountains and hills––it’s wretched. Why walk if I could fly? And why fly if someone could carry me?”

Halsin hums in agreement, but Astarion can see he’s not so easily fooled. Those keen eyes are upon him again, gaze unrelenting.

“It’s all right, you know,” Halsin says, “to not want to be a person sometimes.”

Astarion stiffens. 

“Rest easy,” Halsin says, “I’ll not subject you to a lecture. As for your request, I’m sure I can fulfill it. When would you like to start?”

“It’s that easy?” Astarion says, squinting in suspicion. 

“Oh, learning will not be easy. But this conversation? Yes, I’d like to think so. More tea?”

“I––” for a moment, Astarion flounders. He should go, he thinks. He’s got what he came here for, and there’s no more to discuss unless Halsin means to teach him how to Wild Shape right at this moment. 

“Do you know what it feels like?” Astarion asks, eventually. “To want everything to just stop?”

“Better than you might think,” Halsin says. 

“Oh?”

“A story for another time, perhaps.”

“Well, aren’t you full of secrets.”

“I like to cultivate an aura of mystery.”

Astarion barks out a laugh at that, which makes Halsin smile.

As Halsin pours them more tea, Astarion allows himself to imagine it: the wind beneath dark wings, his body light enough to soar. It would be so nice, he thinks, to be free for once.

[raiswanson]

another Burning One excerpt~

Hey! Been a hot (ba dum tss) minute! Still working on the WIP but haven't had many pieces I've thought were suitable for a tumblr post. Still going strong though! Sitting pretty with 23k words in the writing file right now ;D

Anyway, I picked out a little snippet for you all! Enjoy!

Previous excerpt [here]

~~

One evening a whole group arrived, led by a well-dressed man with sharp, quick eyes. The tone of the roost shifted as he lined his fellows—sad, scruffy people full of more exhaustion than life—up behind him and ascended the platform with a confident swagger. Without even awaiting a greeting or invitation to speak, he puffed up his chest and launched into his speech.

“Burning One, I’ve traveled far to reach your home. I trust you will not let me down as the forest beast who dared not even showed its face did,” he sneered, and I stared open-mouthed at his brashness. “I desire the greatness that you have granted others. I too wish to be able to take and do what I want. If the vermin I’ve seen on the way here were worthy, surely I am even more so. A man, an upstart, in the city thinks himself deserving of competing with my business. He will fail, of course, but I would expedite matters with a flame none dare challenge.”

A breeze stirred the roost as he paused, and I watched the curtain with unease. The Burning One didn’t respond. Didn’t even move. What was He waiting for?

Finally, His voice rolled through the roost, low and thoughtful. “You wish for a flame deserving of one such as yourself?” He asked, and my jaw lowered even further. He intended to hear the man out? Or was He as taken aback as I?

The man scoffed and buffed his nails against the fine trim of his coat, waving his other hand dismissively. “Of course. I expect only your finest, naturally,” he sniffed, then met the Burning One’s amber gaze with staggering confidence. “I pledge my life and wealth in exchange, as those cretins before me have. I’m certain that alone earns me power the hills have never seen, but I am a businessman after all. I offer my staff to you as well to sweeten the deal. They’re tragically meek and pious, but perhaps they can tidy your nest, or...whatever it is you need doing around here. Or eat them. I don’t care.”

The Burning One’s eyes glowed behind the curtain for several lungs of breath. He watched the man in silence, thoughts unknowable, until the man began to tap his foot in irritation.

[blogfordantreacy]

Ao3 Stats Meme

Thank youuu for tagging me, @kittensittin!

rules: give us the links to your fics with the most hits, most kudos, most comments, most bookmarks, most words, and fewest words.

most hits: baby we can both get lost - 2,120 hits

most kudos: love you when my soul is good (i could be your darling) - 160 kudos

most comments: cold water - 34 comment threads

most bookmarks: love you when my soul is good - 25 total bookmarks

most words: cold water - 12,490 words, 3 chapters (in progress)

fewest words: the other ten - 297 words

Tagging: @thesumdancekid @chainofclovers @fandomfrolics and anyone else who’d like to share (absolutely no pressure)

[dwhorrai]

At this point I feel like an idiot for still craving you, and wanting you to love me. But I can’t love anyone or be attached to anyone else. It’s like I’m bound to you, and sometimes I wish I wasn’t, so I could at least leave you alone and move on. So I can let you be happy.

[marmialadee]

Writing poetry because crying in my mothers’ arms isn’t an option.