#To draw will be an awfully big adventure

[theladyofshalott1989]

“All children, except one, grow up.”

[jenli88]

Alan as Captain Hook!

[jjuuiouiou]

It's a pleasure to draw this ƪ⁠(⁠‾⁠.⁠‾⁠“⁠)⁠┐

Geez and he played SherLock!

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full HCs of the M6 with wings please 🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: M6 with wings

Julian

His wings look much like a raven's, except where there would be shades of blue when the light hits them, it's deep burgundy for him

Generally so sleek that he can fold them alongside his oversized coat and they're almost impossible to differentiate

One oddly humorous side effect of this is the way it affects his body language. Being such an expressive storyteller, his coat will look like it has a life of its own as he wildly gestures along

Not the best at remembering to take care of them and will melt into a puddle of affection-starved goo as soon as you start helping him preen and maintain them. Loves rambling about the anatomy

Repurposes his own shed feathers as quills

Likes wrapping them around you when he's giving you one of his all-encompassing hugs, otherwise, he keeps them in his space

Will get sooo fluffed out when you fluster him that his coat will start flapping like it's in a storm and his wings will get even bushier than his eyebrows. Feathers will start to fly if it's intense

Much prefers walking to flying unless absolutely necessary, but will make exceptions if it's to go on an adventure with you

Asra

Their wings are closely tied to their magic, and as such are very difficult to fully comprehend. They look like gravity-defying water

More specifically, his wings look a fairy's or a fly's wings, translucent with ever-shifting swirls and patterns, subtly glowing with a myriad of colors that blend into a pearly blue-ish purple

Their wings are also something they generally don't show in public - they fold down below their shoulders like a cape and lie flat below their rainbow coat. They don't care to draw attention to them

Nobody knows what exactly wing maintenance involves, all you know is that every full moon or so he goes swimming in the cave and seems extra glowy afterwards

Can and will use them like prisms during lazy mornings sleeping in and scatter rainbows all over the place

Has been known to paint on them like stained glass when they're bored. They do invite you to join in, but they're awfully ticklish

Tends to idly hover when he flies, but the one or two times you've seen him motivated to go fast he practically flashes across the sky. You're sure he's cheating aerodynamics somehow but he won't tell

Nadia

While the shape of her wings resembles an owl's, their gauzy, shimmery surface look almost like a butterfly's - if a butterfly's wings could fold back and drape elegantly along golden lines

The deep royal purple of them and the pink shimmer when the light hits them makes them look deceptively delicate. Nadia's wings are not fragile in the slightest

You did see her incorporate them into her swordplay, once, and the impact of one of them hitting her opponent sent them sailing across the ring. They are not to be messed with

While she doesn't show them off, she's not shy about them either. She spends hours maintaining them and coordinates ornaments for them to match her outfit and the occasion

Loves cupping one around your shoulders and back whenever you stand next to her, both to warm you and to protect you

Can gain the attention of a room of nobles simply by fluttering them, and uses this skill regularly and effectively

Will lightly brush your jaw with them when she walks by

Flies like a fighter jet. You've never seen acrobatics like these

Muriel

He dislikes his wings about as much as he dislikes the rest of his body, which is both saddening and par for the course

Like the rest of him, his wings are strong, big, heavy, and thick. You'd compare them to a bat, but the fur on the outside is as long and coarse as a bear's and there are powerful sinews throughout

You don't find this out for a while, but the insides of his wings are warm and leathery, covered in soft fine hairs, and very safe and comforting when you need shielding from harsher elements

Very self-conscious about the scarring and size of them

Keeps them folded in so tightly they look permanently cramped and uncomfortable, and only fully extends them when he absolutely has to. He does avoid flying because of this

As for the scarring - well - it's crisscrossed all over after years of combat, the edges are shredded and tattered in places, and you can tell where some bones and cartilage broke and healed crooked

The first time he let you sit behind him, wash and comb the fur, and finally moisturize them, he was able to let them hang loose for the rest of the day without needing to draw them in again

Portia

She has bird wings much like her brother, but they're considerably fluffier, stronger, and have the colors of a warm sunset

Keeps them neatly folded against her back while she's working, but otherwise they're fluffing and twitching and swaying behind her while she's laughing and chatting with you and her friends

Switches between flying and walking without thinking about it - she needs to get across the canal? She's not bothering with a bridge, she's taking a hop, flap, and a flutter to the other side

Loves using them to snuggle you. Whether it's casual brushes against your arms, folding around your waist to hug you, resting over your head when it starts to rain, it's all fair game

This is overall very pleasant, because she takes thorough care of them and the downy soft undersides feel like falling into the fluffiest cloud you could possibly imagine

Will use them to nudge people out of the way if she feels like her (or your) personal space isn't being respected

Her wings are so feather-dense that she does shed quite a lot and you find sunset feathers anywhere she sits or lies down

Lucio

He loves showing them off and he hates comments about their traits. Morga once told you that they were snowy white when he was a child, but over the years got streaked with red and black

They're webbed, thin enough to look like frost, with fine golden veins. Over time the sinews and bones took on crimson and charcoal black colors and he's rather proud of the effect

What he's less likely to flaunt is the deep, jagged scar slicing through one side that he got when he lost his arm

He effectively turned it into artwork with a golden tattoo, but he still tends to carefully position his gauntlet to cover for it

This in no way stops him from parading his wings otherwise. They're always halfway unfurled, poised like he's about to take flight, and matching his face for expressiveness

Startle him, and they'll fly above his head in shock before they ruffle and bristle and rustle around his shoulders as he loudly insists that he wasn't surprised at all, just playing along, no really!

Likes gently booping your nose with them to get your attention

Tends to compare his wings to others when he's insecure

[justporo]

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies (Prologue: A knock on the door)

Author's note: So, here we are, the prologue to the next longer story I already teased quite a bit. Enjoy! I'll start posting on October 5th - giving me some time to get ahead on writing hopefully. Please let me know if you want to get tagged. Spoilers ahead!

Summary: Astarion and you had settled down in Baldur’s Gate. For almost half a year now had you been living in your small, but cozy and quite luxurious townhouse in the Upper City – causing rampant rumours around the nobles in the city.

One night, Tav and Astarion receive an invitation to attend a ball that’s promising to be the city’s biggest event in quite some time. Astarion feels his time has come to finally show Tav some of his world: ballroom politics, waltzing, sipping on the finest champagne, gossiping while laughing and showing off your own prosperity, unthinkable debauchery going on behind closed doors – an excessive night to remember.

And the night might hold more surprises than either Astarion or Tav would have expected…

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion / Fem!Tav (You)

CHAPTER LIST | NEXT CHAPTER

Astarion and you were sitting in the big window alcove of your living room – the one you had equipped with some pillows and a blanket so the two of you could always sit there comfortably and watch out through the tall window onto the Upper City of Baldur’s Gate. The lights in the city were twinkling, while you both had snuggled up at one of your favourite places in your house.

Astarion was reading one of his many books he had started to collect and scatter all over the place. His brows were deeply furrowed as he was silently mumbling to himself while reading, one of his fingers absent mindedly moved over his bottom lip – and only ever stopped when he grabbed the chalice of wine beside him.

You were sitting there as well, facing him and trying to capture him and his thoughtfulness in a drawing while also admiring how effortlessly beautiful he just was at any given moment. This wasn’t the first time you’d drawn him and it wouldn’t be the last. Before, you hadn’t drawn in quite some time but were eager to brush up your skills again to fulfil a promise you’d given your vampire quite some time ago, when you had been on the road, adventuring.

“You know”, you teasingly broke the comfortable and companionable silence “if you would stop frowning so much it would take fifty years off of that face of yours immediately.” You chuckled and looked up from your drawing with only your eyes to catch the elf’s reaction. You were massively proud with the joke that had only taken you like the past half hour to come up with.

Astarion looked up from his book, eyes wide, finger still on his lip, and raised his eyebrows askingly at you – seemingly still miles away in his head. But then the meaning of your words clicked into place for him: his eyes narrowed, one of his eyebrows gave an annoyed twitch and he pursed his lips.

“Did no one ever teach you to respect your elders, my dear?” You simply giggled in response. “You’re awfully rude, my love, who could have possibly taught you to be this brutal?”, he asked in a playfully shocked manner and snapped his book shut in a swift movement. You kept looking at him a while longer and raised your eyebrows before you let your gaze roll back slowly to your current drawing project – no further comment needed.

“You’ve spent too much time in my company, my love”, you heard Astarion say and then a pleased chuckle afterwards. A soft clink indicated that he was taking another sip of wine.

“I think I haven’t spent enough in it – like ever”, you replied, a warm smile creeping onto your face while you started to work on your drawn lines again. You heard another very pleased chuckle and then sensed that Astarion was leaning to you. When you lifted your head to meet his gaze your faces were so close that your noses were almost touching. The vampire’s ruby eyes were glinting in the soft light of the candles all over the room. A smirk had found its way on his face, bringing out his laugh lines and soft crinkles around his eyes.

Your mouth opened slightly. It was like you knew his face better than any other and better than your own and still seemed to spot a new beautiful minor detail in it every time you looked at him. A dreamy sigh left your lips, you couldn’t help yourself – you desperately meant it when you’d said that you couldn’t ever spend enough time with him.

A sparkle entered Astarion’s eyes. Knowing full well the effect he had on you – that magnificent bastard. So he cocked his head slightly and acted coyly: “Care to show me your newest piece?” “Hm, I don’t know, do I?”, you replied puckering your lips and acting hard to get. The pale elf drew his brows together once more and looked pensively at you. “Hm… Yes. Yes, I think you do!“, he then said.

You weren’t quite ready to give in yet. “Maybe I do need some convincing”, you offered and started to grin. “Convincing? Love, next thing I know, you’ll be asking me to pay you.” “Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

Astarion huffed. “Of course, it would be, but I was thus far convinced you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart and not greed”, he dramatically responded. “Well, then maybe a kiss will suffice for now.” “Now this is the kind of payment I can get behind”, the vampire cheerfully replied and cupped your face softly in one of his hands and closed the distance between you.

The kiss he gave you was long and sweet and made you carefully cover his hand with your own. When he broke the kiss again you felt warm and fuzzy. “What generous payment”, you whispered breathlessly. At that the vampire smirked: “Oh don’t start to think there was a tip in there, that was a down-payment for your next masterpiece.”

You stuck your tongue out at him for his commentary but still offered up your sketchbook with your newest piece of him. This one had really turned out well, you were proud of yourself.

Astarion carefully took the small book from you. As always it seemed like an incredibly honourable moment for him. The way he always spent several long moments taking in your work before he even started to say anything made your heart swell and break simultaneously.

“I look so scholarly here – more than Gale even, wouldn’t you agree, my heart?”, he said after several heartbeats while still looking at the drawing. He wasn’t wrong: the way he was holding the book and leaning into it with his whole body, brows drawn together in concentration, finger wandering over his lip while lost in thought.

“You look beautiful, Astarion”, you said. At that, Astarion’s head moved up to look at you – an open and sincere smile on his face. “Only because you are such a wonderful artist, Tav”, he replied while his smile grew broader even. “But for all I know you could massively exaggerate and I could just be painfully ugly and that’s why you and other people keep staring at me”, he answered and theatrically placed the back of his hand that wasn’t holding your sketchbook on his forehead.

“Suuuure”, you reacted dryly and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m only kidding, my love. I thought I’d try being humble for once”, the vampire grinned back. “Yeah, it doesn’t suit you, better stay with the arrogance, dearest.”

Astarion was just about to reply when there was a knock on your front door.

Which was more than just a little weird since you near never received any visitors (and were mostly glad for it) – in fact, you weren’t sure, if someone had ever used the knocker on the door since the two of you had moved into the place.

“Was that-“, you started with furrowed brows. “A knock on the door? I think so”, Astarion finished your sentence, seemingly just as confused as you. He turned to look over his shoulder in an attempt to maybe spot whoever had been so brave out of the living room window – but it was impossible. The only thing you could see was that the small wrought-iron gate, that fenced off the street from the few steps up to the front door, had been opened.

“We weren’t expecting any company, were we?”, the vampire asked while getting up from his comfortable seat. Worry was now clearly showing on his face. It was probably nothing, but after all the two of you – and especially Astarion – had been through, it couldn’t hurt to stay cautious.

So, the vampire threw you another careful glance and then made his way to the front door. You followed closely behind.

When Astarion opened the door, you could see that it was an older, balding man in a head-to-toe black servant uniform at the door. He was standing as straight as an arrow, one arm at his back, the other holding a small envelope in front of him in a gloved hand. His head was lifted in an arrogant pose and you immediately felt stared down despite the man not being very tall.

“Ugh finally”, you hear the servant say under his breath in a tone you could only describe as “posh” and “Upper”. Astarion narrowed his eyes at him and coughed conspicuously, assuring the man that he had heard that.

“With whom do I have the pleasure?”, Astarion said then, immediately mirroring the tone of the visitor in front of him. You had definitely heard him use that kind of voice before – thousands of times – but he laid it on thick effortlessly.

The servant now seemingly reminded of his manners – or rather his duty to have manners – gave a curt bow and then spoke while offering Astarion the envelope he held: “I am here to relay an invitation by his gracious Lordship Lord De Grodt to his upcoming ball to Lord Ancunín” – his voice made clear he didn’t even remotely think he was dealing with a lord – “and, uhm…” The servant started to stutter his eyes wandering from Astarion to you standing close behind him with a raised eyebrow. “Tav?”, the messenger finished in a question rather than a statement.

The vampire took the offered envelope and clearly wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation. The servant now had placed his other hand on his back as well and had resumed holding his head up in arrogance.

“Please present your invitation if you attend”, he said abruptly, then turned on his heels and walked off without another glance or word – and left the gate to the street open. “What a prick”, you whispered while Astarion flipped the envelope other and started to open it. You walked past him and down the few steps to close the gate, when you heard a voice speak to you.

“Ah, did you receive an invitation too, my two dear neighbours? The messenger was awfully rude, wasn’t he?”, a well clothed older lady was walking down the street on the other side. She waved slowly and came over to you. You didn’t even know her name, but she was your neighbour living in an enormous mansion on the other side of the street. Over the last few months since you had moved into your new home, she had been the only one of the people living around that had deemed you two worthy of being talked to. And she was actually a really nice lady even though you hadn’t figured out why she had taken a liking to the both of you – or why she was surprisingly often out after the sun had gone down.

You had asked her once about it to which she had slapped your wrist playfully with a fan she’d been holding: “Nah, my dear girl, that is such a rude question to ask, don’t you think? I’m not asking you why the both of you seem to be up all night, basically every night, do I?” She had pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows and you had blushed a deep red at what she had implied. “But if you are so keen to know: I have no husband anymore but a mostly empty mansion – so I like to take long walks to not feel so lonely and keep myself in form to stay alone in an empty house for longer.” She had laughed about it, but you had felt empathy for the woman. So, you had offered to her to come by for a cup of tea if she ever felt too lonely. The sincere offer had taken her off guard obviously. Maybe she hadn’t expected much of a genuine response to her rambling. She had thanked you but never taken you up on your offer. But you chatted for a few minutes whenever you saw each other. Even Astarion had talked to her a few times and taken a liking to the lady. And she seemed positively infatuated with him, telling him once how he reminded her of her late husband and winking at him – which would have surely made even Astarion blush if that had been possible.

“Yes, awfully”, you agreed to her now. “Well, at least I know two of the people that will be attending, hm, my dear?”, the older woman replied and grinned at you but then already turned around to leave. “Greet your beau from me, will you?”, she said while she was already on her way but still shortly waved at Astarion at the top of the stairs, staring at the invitation and not noticing the short exchange.

You closed up the gate and went back to your vampire. “So?”, you simply asked and leaned over to see the invitation. “Lord Ancunín – has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”, Astarion chimed happily and grinned at you. You looked at the invitation in his slender hands. Two golden lines framed the card and under a decorative print stood in elegant cursive writing: “His Lordship Lord De Grodt requests the pleasure of the Company of Lord Astarion Ancunín & Tav to a Ball at Herrenfordt Castle on October 5th, 1493 DR after dusk.”

“They really only just wrote ‘Tav’? Should I be insulted?” “You don’t have a last name?”, Astarion asked while looking up from the card. “No, Astarion, I grew up on the streets, because my parents abandoned me – I’m only Tav, always have been”, you answered, only a tad of bitterness in your voice. “Well, my love, you could always just take mine”, the vampire replied smugly and grinned at you. “Weird way to propose”, you muttered under your breath but then immediately said before Astarion could react: “So what do you make of this?”

“I do know the palace where this is taking place, but I’ve never heard of this lord”, he answered lost in thought and drew his brows together once more. Then he seemed to remember your question, lifted up one finger and looked at you expectantly: “Do you know how to tell from an invitation how big and expensive of an event it is going to be?” “Astarion, I’ve never been to a ball in my life.” “Indulge me, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes at him and cursed him under your breath. “Fine, how do you tell?” “So nice of you to ask, my love”, the elf replied and smiled at you as if you hadn’t just called him a name for being pretentious.

“Let’s take a look, shall we?”, he started and flicked the card with a finger. “First off: paper quality. This is very thick and finely grained paper, so already much better than what you’ll find in most books. Bonus point one. Secondly: writing. All spelled correctly, good ink, incredible cursive writing the likes of which isn’t cheap to get by – especially if you have probably hundreds of invitations to hand out. Bonus point two.” He kept twirling the card around while excitedly telling you about its properties – you were rather keen to get back inside…

“And lastly: décor! Not only has this card some printing on it for which a custom stamp must’ve been made but it is embossed with gold, twice. Bonus point three. Thus, my dearest Tav, this will be one of the biggest and probably most unforgettable events Baldur’s Gate has seen in quite some time. I can’t wait to go”, Astarion finished and grinned self-assuredly at you. You slowly blinked at him: “Do I get to have any say in this, or…”

Astarion pouted at you and made puppy eyes at you: “You can’t be saying this after dragging me to this hellhole of a tavern and making me put up with your horrible ex-lover.” Well, he had you there. After all, you had put him through quite the chaotic night when you had proposed to go to one of your favourite places in the city. But still…

When he saw that you were still hesitant, he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you – deeply, this time. A kiss that took all your breath away and left you longing for more when he lifted his lips from yours again. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Pretty please, my sweet sweet darling love?”, he pouted and his ruby puppy eyes seemed to grow bigger.

You sighed in defeat but still poked a finger at him: “I am not doing anything that involves wearing a corset.” At that Astarion simply smirked at you. “You can’t possibly propose to go like this, my love” – he gave you an once-over – “as much as I love your butt in these leather pants, anyway. But we’ll have to get you a dress, dearest.”

Just the thought made you uncomfortable. You didn’t reply and simply made your way back inside after untangling from him. Astarion followed you, putting a hand on your back after closing the front door. “Don’t worry, my heart, just leave it to me to get you something adequate. I’ll even make sure to avoid it having a corset”, he promised you with a smile when he grabbed your shoulder and softly made you face him.

That was indeed very nice of him and you were more than sure that Astarion would find you the perfect thing to wear, but the thought of attending such an event still made you uncomfortable. “What’s on your mind, my love? Worried about stepping on my toes when we’ll dance?”, he asked and pulled you close in a dancing position – the hand with the envelope and invitation still in it pressing flush to the small of your back pulling you close and the other grabbing your hand and lifting it up. He softly started humming and twirled you around in a lazy waltz. “Don’t worry, I’ll practice with you. All the dances. The silly ones, Wyll showed you once. The fast ones. The intimate ones.” Of course, he knew all of these. You’d put your other hand on his shoulder and let yourself get swirled around. The two of you had danced together before – in fact it had become one of your favourite pastimes.

“That’s not it, Astarion, it’s rather… I don’t think I’ll blend in very well. I mean, look at the invitation”, you explained and couldn’t help some sadness creeping into your voice. Astarion’s cheerful mood faltered a little, but he kept dancing with you around your living room: “My love, neither do I, really. It doesn't matter. We’ll be going there for us: get all dolled up, drink our body weight in excessively expensive wine and champagne, dance all other guests into the ground, spread some rumours and maybe pickpocket some diamond cuff links - how does that sound?”

A smile had crept back onto your lips. “Now that sounds like a happening, I can get myself behind.”

And to that Astarion threw his head back and laughed while he started to turn faster with you in his arms. “It’ll be a marvellous night, my heart, marvellous!”

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed! I am so excited to get into writing this!

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque

[petalsprompts]

𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄; 𝒌𝒆𝒚𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔.

change  pronouns,  tenses  and  other  details  as  deemed  necessary. &  please  specify  muse  when  sending  to  a  mumu.

“To  die  will  be  an  awfully  big  adventure.”

“One  does  not  discover  new  lands  without  consenting  to  lose  sight  of  the  shore  for  a  very  long  time.”

“No  matter  my  origins,  there  is  worth  in  what  I  am.”

“Go  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff  and  jump  off.  Build  your  wings  on  the  way  down.”

“You  always  have  free  will  to  choose  your  path.”

“If  you  don't  take  risks,  you'll  have  a  wasted  soul.”

“Keep  reading.  It's  one  of  the  most  marvellous  adventures  that  anyone  can  have.”

“Adventure  is  not  outside  man;  it  is  within.”

“There's  only  one  place  I  want  to  go,  and  it's  to  all  the  places  I've  never  been.”

“I  love  to  sail  forbidden  seas,  and  land  on  barbarous  coasts.”

“Let  us  step  into  the  night  and  pursue  that  flighty  temptress,  adventure.”

“The  biggest  adventure  you  can  ever  take  is  to  live  the  life  of  your  dreams.”

“You  should  enjoy  the  little  detours  to  the  fullest.  Because  that's  where  you'll  find  the  things  more  important  than  what  you  want.”

“Until  you  step  into  the  unknown,  you  don’t  know  what  you’re  made  of.”

“Only  you  can  charter  the  course  of  your  destiny.”

“It’s  the  unknown  that  draws  people.”

“We  strive  for  harmony,  but  it  is  not  always  realized.”

“May  your  adventures  bring  you  closer  together,  even  as  they  take  you  far  away  from  home.”

“In  wisdom  gathered  over  time,  I  have  found  that  every  experience  is  a  form  of  exploration.”

“Fall  in  love  with  someone  who  tastes  like  adventure  but  looks  like  the  calm,  beautiful  morning  after  a  terrible  storm.”

“I'm  an  adventurer,  looking  for  treasure.”

[duckymcdoorknob]

𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝔂 20: 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓼 𝓤𝓹

RARARA XINGYUN

AM I GONNA MAKE THIS SHIPPY? I HAVEN’T DECIDED YET.

OH YES I DID- IM GONNA MAKE IT SHIPPY

I LOVE THEM A NORMAL AMOUNT!

Thanks for chilling in tktober and now it’s tkjanuary… I’ve got 8 more fics to write after this and I’ll be done!

—This do have tickles under the cut ngl. XINGQIU HAS A BIG FAT CRUSH ON CHONGYUN-

Tags: @chrimsss @ticklish-n-stuff

Xingqiu’s menacing actions against his “beloved” Chongyun were getting old quickly. The exorcist had had it up to here with “accidentally” getting slipped jueyun chilis in his popsicles or food, or getting so scared that his yang energy spikes and he gets so panicky and overheated.

The boy was supposed to be his friend? Morax be damned, it sure didn’t feel that way. He watched with a stoic face as Xingqiu explained the reasons as to why it was imperative that Chongyun accompany him.

“You don’t understand, dear Chongyun; there will be a high presence of spirits and violence! I need someone to protect me… someone strong…someone like you!”

“Xingqiu…” the pale-blue haired boy was a bit cross, “nine times out of ten- no- not even! No times out of ten have your claims of the presence of spirits been true! You drag me along with you for an adventure in the mountains and then I’m made a fool!”

The other gaped at him.

Oh… he felt this way?

“No pranks this time, I really did hear and see some strange occurrences last time I was there! Now, they may not be actual spirits, but it would mean a lot if you were there to protect me.”

The exorcist sighed, “Fine, I will never deny you protection if you request it.”

The two boys ventured into the mountains with Xingqiu gripping Chongyun’s sleeve in a worried manner.

The taller boy pondered for a bit, ‘is he actually worried? He must be toying with me again…’ “Everything okay, Xingqiu?” His other hand came up to rest atop of the one clinging to his arm for dear life.

“Mhm… yeah. Just uh, thought I heard something.”

Xingqiu had indeed heard something, for the wind whistled harshly and the bush before them rattled. Chongyun pushed the latter behind him, drawing his sword and splaying his arms out protectively.

The shorter male blinked as his face flushed, not used to the feral protectiveness of his best friend. “Be careful, Chongyun!”

Shaking fingers tightened around the hilt of his claymore. “I always am… Watch our flank, and tell me immediately if there’s any danger.”

Drawing his weapon, the dark-bluenette nodded. He summoned his rain swords and watched diligently. The boys stood in silence, danger senses heightened like crazy.

After a second, Chongyun’s eyes darted to a tree to their left. He swung his sword, and, without warning, slammed it into the tree. He groaned as a mora ferret scampered away, exhaling to level his energy. He whipped his head around in an intense concern.

The two’s eyes met, the pale-blue haired boy’s still burning with that icy intensity. Xingqiu’s face burned in response, a small squeak escaping his lips.

“Xingqiu.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You’re awfully red…” Abandoning his claymore, which was stuck in the tree above him, he rushed to his best friend’s side and kneeled down. “Are you alright? Did something get you? Let me see your face-“

Two cold hands cooled his burning cheeks as the exorcist examined his upper body for any nicks or scratches.

“I-I’m okay, ‘Y-Yun,” the swordsman managed to choke, “I’m j-just um… oh gods…” His amber eyes widened and blinked a few times as Chongyun draped his jacket around his shoulders.

The exorcist smiled patiently as he ran his hand along his best friend’s face, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb against it. “Take a second and cool off; my jacket is insulated.”

The dark-blue haired boy nodded wordlessly, hiding his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. He watched as Chongyun went back to the tree, attempting to grab the claymore. He was a claymore user, so it’s no secret that he would have a strong physique.

But Morax above… Xingqiu wasn’t expecting how built his best friend was. Biceps pulsed as his arms pulled on the hilt of the stuck weapon. His shoulders and back tightened as he yanked at the large sword.

“L-Let me help,” Xingqiu murmured, placing a shaky hand on the center of the exorcist’s shoulders. ‘Dear gods…’ his hand came up to hide his blush again. “I’ll hang onto it, and you pull me.”

Chongyun had peeked over his shoulder. He cocked an eyebrow with a cheeky grin, noticing his best friend’s hand over his lips, plus the presence of the blush creeping to his ears. ‘Ah, so that’s what’s going on?’ “Sure. Arms up. I’ll hoist you up to grab it.”

“M’not that short,” Xingqiu murmured. He lifted his arms, prepping to grab the weapon. He squeaked when he felt cold hands grabbing his lithe hips.

“Oh, right. Forgot how ticklish you are… so adorable…” Chongyun teased, knowing fully well why his best friend had reacted that way.

Xingqiu closed his eyes to calm himself as his fingers wrapped around the sword. He yanked and yanked, but it did not budge. “Not working.”

The exorcist hummed. “Just don’t let go. Keep trying to pull it off. Whatever you do…” there was a rare tinge of playfulness lacing his tone, “don’t let go.”

“C-Chohohohongyuhuhun!” Xingqiu squealed as he felt fingers poke into his hips, “Dohohohohont!”

“Don’t let go! I can’t protect us without my sword,” the pale-blue haired boy chirped with a grin. He massaged his thumbs into the bones, cooing silently as the boy in his grasp started to kick his legs a bit.

“C-Chohohohongyuhuhun! Dohohohont drohohohop mehehehe!” the bookworm whined as his knuckles became white. “M-My grihihihihip ihihihits slihihihippihihing!”

“Aww, you poor thing. You just have to hang on, and get my claymore unstuck, and then it’ll be over.”

Xingqiu whined as he curled up onto the weapon, laying his arms and chest atop of it. His grip tightened and he pulled hard, the sword slipping a tiny bit. “Ihihihim gehehehettihihihing ihihit! Ihihit’s cohohomihihi-IHIHING NAHAHAHAHOHOHO!”

Chongyun wormed his fingers up under the boy’s arms, causing his grip to falter entirely, sending them both crashing down. The exorcist sat atop of the bookworm’s hips, a hand pinning both of his arms. Xingqiu’s face lit on fire once more as he looked away.

“KYEAHAHAHA! CH-CHOHOHOHONGYUHUHUHUN! PLEHEHEHEASE!”

“Oh you are just the cutest thing! This is payback for all of the times you’ve tickled me or pranked me. An eye for an eye-“ his hands moved to the dark-blue haired boy’s ribs, tweaking at the hyper-ticklish bones below, “or a tickle for a tickle.”

Xingqiu squealed and laughed loudly, tucking his flushed face and ears into his shoulder in an attempt to hide in the jacket. “P-PLEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHITS EMBAHAHAHARRASSIHIHIHING!”

“Oh? Is it embarrassing because I’m tickling you?” he leaned closer with a smug smile, ceasing his ticklish attack, “or maybe it’s because I’m tickling you?”

“I-I don’t like th-the look you’re giving me,” Xingqiu squeaked in a high-pitched whisper.

“Oh my dearest, oh Xingqiu…” his fingers continued their attack on the bookworm’s ribs. “For someone who reads so many stories, you are not very attentive.”

Legs kicked as the shorter male’s face fell into the jacket again. “Y-YUHUHUHUN! YOHOHOHOURE SOHOHOHO MEHEHEHEAN!”

“And you’re so adorable.”

“OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! IHIHIHIM TOHOHOHOO HOHOHOHOT! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!”

The attack stopped, leaving a panting Xingqiu. His eyes were pricked with gentle tears, his face was red as a tomato, his hair was disheveled. After a few seconds, he sat up, now face-to-face with his best friend.

“Y-You had that- *pant* you were p-planning that, weren’t you?”

“Nope, it just kind of happened in the spur of the moment. Are you okay?” Chongyun replied with a bashful smile, dismounting and standing up, offering a hand.

“F-Fine,” he puffed, taking the outstretched hand and shakily getting on his feet. “Spur of the moment my behind. You’ve been plotting, admit it!”

“Fine! You want spur of the moment?” the pale-blue haired boy yelped, “here!”

The world slowed down for Xingqiu as the boy he’d loved for so long kissed him with a soft intensity. His hands found the exorcist’s shoulders and rested there, melting into the moment he’d imagined thousands of times in the past.

The two broke apart after a second. It was quiet before Chongyun spoke with a warm smile, cupping the boy’s cheek. “I can’t believe you never noticed. Did you not realize how easily I gave in to coming with you today?”

Xingqiu chuckled bashfully, resting his head on the other’s shoulder. “Let me be… I was a bit distracted... By the way, your claymore is still in the tree.”

The pale-blue haired boy rolled his eyes with a grin. He rolled the sleeves of his undershirt, walking over to the tree. “Take a popsicle from the inside pocket of the jacket; cool yourself off. I’m a bit worried I teased you too much.”

Xingqiu only hummed as he obliged, watching Chongyun’s struggle with the sword once more.

“Enjoying the view?” the exorcist teased with a small grunt of effort.

“S-Shut up.”

Xingqiu stuck a popsicle in his mouth as the familiar blush crept back to his face and ears.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[masterhallmark]

I'm really sick of the "Pirates are Lost Boys who grew up and escaped Pan" theory

1) The book is a children's story, not a horror novel.

2) The idea Peter kills boys who grow up is based on one throwaway line that says he "thins them out" if there are too many, which can mean several different things.

3) HOOK WAS A PIRATE WITH A CREW BEFORE LANDING IN NEVERLAND! He literally has a backstory in the book and several speeches J.M. Barrie gave about going to Eton, running away, and becoming a pirate. The crew arrived in Neverland AS IS.

4) The book mentions Peter will travel with the souls of dying kids halfway to the afterlife so they aren't scared. He also desperately begs children to save Tinkerbell, tries to sacrifice himself for Wendy, saves Tiger Lilly while commenting that the pirates were being unfair when capturing her, even tries to help Hook regain his footing during a fight, and saves the Neverbird's eggs from being destroyed. Does that sound like a psychopath to you?

5) The ONLY TIME we see Peter try to kill a Lost Boy is when he mistakenly thinks said Lost Boy killed Wendy, and said Lost Boy told Peter to kill him. Once it turns out Wendy is alive, not only is the boy forgiven, but the only punishment Tinkerbell (the actual culprit) gets is banishment.

The entire purpose of the book is to contrast the innocence of youth with the responsibilities of adulthood. The negative traits Peter has are meant to show the dangers of refusing to grow up, while Hook is meant to show the dangers of growing up TOO much. Hook OBSESSES over good form and acting proper to the point he almost FAINTS when Wendy sees a stain on his shirt.

Also, the entire book "Peter and Wendy" and every other variation of the story JM Barrie wrote is FREE on the internet. Anyone can read it RIGHT HERE http://neverpedia.com/pan/Read:Peter_and_Wendy

There is no good reason for this misinformation spreading. It is easily available.

Passages from the book under cut, since last time I posted something like this someone tried to argue with me

At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened.

-----

"It lifted Michael off the ground," he cried; "why should it not carry you?"

"Both of us!"

"It can't lift two; Michael and Curly tried."

"Let us draw lots," Wendy said bravely.

"And you a lady; never." Already he had tied the tail round her. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a "Good-bye, Wendy," he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.

The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.

Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure."

------

Nevertheless the bird was determined to save him if she could, and by one last mighty effort she propelled the nest against the rock. Then up she flew; deserting her eggs, so as to make her meaning clear.

Then at last he understood, and clutched the nest and waved his thanks to the bird as she fluttered overhead. It was not to receive his thanks, however, that she hung there in the sky; it was not even to watch him get into the nest; it was to see what he did with her eggs.

There were two large white eggs, and Peter lifted them up and reflected. The bird covered her face with her wings, so as not to see the last of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers.

I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on the rock, driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the site of buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard, and when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight to the gulls, who pounced upon them for food, and then flew away, raging at the scurvy trick that had been played upon them. The stave was still there, and on it Starkey had hung his hat, a deep tarpaulin, watertight, with a broad brim. Peter put the eggs into this hat and set it on the lagoon. It floated beautifully.

The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, and screamed her admiration of him; and, alas, Peter crowed his agreement with her. Then he got into the nest, reared the stave in it as a mast, and hung up his shirt for a sail. At the same moment the bird fluttered down upon the hat and once more sat snugly on her eggs. She drifted in one direction, and he was borne off in another, both cheering.

-----

"It was poisoned, Peter," she told him softly; "and now I am going to be dead."

"O Tink, did you drink it to save me?"

"Yes."

"But why, Tink?"

Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She whispered in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to her chamber, lay down on the bed.

His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as he knelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter; and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it.

Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies.

Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she wasn't sure.

"What do you think?" she asked Peter.

"If you believe," he shouted to them, "clap your hands; don't let Tink die."

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already Tink was saved. First her voice grew strong, then she popped out of bed, then she was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever. She never thought of thanking those who believed, but she would have like to get at the ones who had hissed.

"And now to rescue Wendy!"

[elronds-library]

Tolkien Drabble Collection

by Evandar

Part 1 of Tolkien Drabbles

1. A Kingly Gift - Gimli is the only one in the Fellowship who knows the real meaning of the mithril shirt. 2. Tattoo - After the quest, Bilbo and the Dwarves get tattoos done to mark them forever as a Company. 3. The King's Jewel - Thranduil recognises the Arkenstone, and that's why he doesn't help. 4. Illiterate - Ori writes; Dori reviews. 5. Untitled - The princes make hair braiding indecent. 6. Blue - The hobbits discuss the colour of Legolas' eyes. Only Gimli knows how wrong they are. 7. An Awfully Big Adventure - Legolas and Gimli discuss the nature of mortality. 8. Homemaking - Once the dwarves have built the world anew, one builds a home for his lover and waits for him to be reborn. 9. Purple-Tinted Spectacles - A gift from Gimli gives Legolas the clarity he has long desired. 10, Iron Clasps - Celebrimbor has asked Narvi to braid his hair; Narvi isn't dim enough to think he doesn't know what it means 11. Narvi and the Holly King - A Dwarvish fairy tale 12. Woodland Feast - Legolas' on-the-road snacking draws attention 13. Dust and Starlight - Bard discovers something unexpected

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings

Words: 5,773

[floweyheadcanons]

Some more headcannons and questions coming up! Clover can't dance for the life of them, so Flowey helped them by moving their feet to the right bars on El Baildor's fight. Clover felt indebted to him for doing that, but Flowey just told them it was painful to watch them fail over and over and over again. Flash forward to the Omega Flowey fight, Clover is the last to rebel because they still feel indebted to him. They don't want to leave their best friend alone. They realize that what Flowey is doing isn't justified, but a small part of Flowey, that Clover can feel, is feeling like this is justified, for Chara, for Clover...When Frisk wins, Flowey sees a figure behind Frisk, holding out a hand. He sees Clover with a genuine smile, wanting him to join them with doing justice. But Clover isn't there. Flowey understands and tries to tell Frisk and, by extention, Ghost/Hallucination Clover, that he can't. He doesn't understand why they show care to him after all that. He doesn't understand... Flowey has talked to Papyrus about Clover. He likes to see his reactions to their adventures and everything. Seeing someone adore this child while never knowing them makes him seen like the care he had for them wasn't him being weak, but Clover having that ability on monsters. Flowey like card games. He also likes chess, but card games are his favorite. He's good at them, that's way.

Now here is some for the Gusty Gaggle and Feisty Five, well, one of the Feisty Five at least. So the Gusty Gaggle are all actors in the Ghosty South. I mean, like everyone is am actor there. Flowey plays the role of the murderous Flower monster that is part of a gang, and is the brains, with a human and another monster. Clover plays the leader, and human. Kanako plays the happy monster with a bit of scare to her. They basically play themselves, in the Gusty Gaggle. They are actors but not. Also, Mooch and Flowey are friends. Theif and murderous flower bring friends just makes me happy. Mooch is also Flowey's favorite Festiy 4 member.

Now some questions! Who does Flowey hate more, Ceroba or Alphys, and why? Has Flowey ever became friends with Sans in past resets? Does Flowey feel a sense of belonging with the amagates? Has Dalv ever realized he didn't draw the draws Flowey drew? What's his relationship with Decibat and El Bailador? Who is Flowey's favorite Festiy Four person? Out of Starlo, Axis, Martlet, and Chujin, who does Flowey like and hate the most? What kind of games does Flowey like and dislike? Did Flowey ever watch Chujin, and, by extent, The Wild East and Kestukane's before Clover fell? If so, did he judge Chujin for being an idiot? Why does he feel the need to keep his throwing skills up? And, where would Flowey stay most of the time on the surface? Frisk's town or The Ghosty South?

(AAAA- I LOVE HIM!!! HIM AND ENDOGENY IS SO CUTE!!!! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!! Also, him to Kanako being like, "Hey! Welcome to the children revived club! Don't tell your mother we are here okay? I hate her!" is so funny to me. HE'S SUCH A LITTLE GUY!!!)

those ideas up there are PEAK?! try not to cook challenge (impossible)

i honestly think the idea of the gusty gaggle both acting and not acting at the same time is really cool, it's more like they overblow their personalities, i really like that.

this is the funny headcanon blog so it's time for the questions now!!

1 .Who does Flowey hate more, Ceroba or Alphys, and why?

Flowey hates Ceroba more because at least Alphys changed. And even before that she pretty clearly was tortured by what she'd done, while I don't think it'd be as obvious to Flowey that Ceroba was suffering too. Does not help that Ceroba has also tried to kill Clover.

2. Has Flowey ever became friends with Sans in past resets?

I'm awfully fond of the idea that at one point or another Sans had some sort of big brother-ish relationship with Flowey because he just has that effect on people™ and would rather not fight this nerd, so yeah! I'd actually be surprised if at no point were they on good terms.

3. Does Flowey feel a sense of belonging with the amagates?

Yeah, it makes him feel better to know he's not the only little freak out there... Not the only experiment gone horribly wrong.

4. Has Dalv ever realized he didn't draw the drawings Flowey drew?

He's probably realized a few weren't his because they were a little too bad. Don't blame Flowey ok?? He hasn't had proper hands for a comical amount of time. I think in secret he'd redraw those because they're usually fire ideas, just bad illustration-wise.

5. What's his relationship with Decibat and El Bailador?

Flowey is a little hater, so I think he'd be a big El Bailador anti... Probably follows the guy around with a comical amount of signs that say things like "CANCEL THIS DANCE MANIAC!!!" "THIS BUFFOON MUST BE STOPPED!!!" that all point in his direction but when Baily turns around to look at them they're gone. Decibat, on the other hand gets a pass. I think Flowey would like sleep in Deci's cave because it's nice and quiet... Probably sneaks in Echo Flowers sometimes because he thinks it's funny™.

6. Who is Flowey's favorite Feisty Four member?

I'm indecisive on this one, but it'd probably be Mooch because he can't help but respect a devious little thief. I think in a couple saves he'd probably help her with her little heists!

7. Out of Starlo, Axis, Martlet, and Chujin, who does Flowey like and hate the most?

Chujin: Mostly considers the man a joke, wouldn't say he hates Chujin.

Axis: Bro is on thin ice. Flowey is always very close to destroying that bucket of bolts and considers him very irritating to be around and a needless nuisance.

Starlo: Finds the guy somewhat annoying, but also interesting. Mostly upset with him for attacking Clover and for being so easily excited into doing stupid things. Would probably like him more if he wasn't an idiot.

Martlet: Wants to pluck every feather off her one by one, and hear her scream. Why does she keep INTERVENING??? She's part of that stupid guard, she wants Clover dead, she doesn't get to decide they're important to her. Her existence fills him with rage.

Of them all, I think he hates Martlet the most for trying to steal Clover away, and likes Starlo the most because he IS just a little goober.

8. What kind of games does Flowey like and dislike?

I think he'd like things like puzzle games (they make him feel big brained), RPGs, and first person shooters and shoot em up games (especially if they're combined. he likes feeling tough.)

9. Did Flowey ever watch Chujin, and, by extent, The Wild East and Kestukane's before Clover fell? If so, did he judge Chujin for being an idiot?

He probably judged Chujin very heavily for being an idiot. I think for the most part he probably watched Chujin the most out of the other Ketsukanes (with Ceroba probably being the one he watched the least) because he finds his stupidity very entertaining.

9. Why does he feel the need to keep his throwing skills up?

It's a worry of his because what if he needs to throw something far for one reason or another but he can't? And what if that thing is something so important that it CAN'T just be forgotten about??

10. Where would Flowey stay most of the time on the surface? Frisk's town or The Ghosty South?

He'd probably visit Frisk's town every now and again but I think he'd prefer The Ghosty South as he'd probably feel more at home and able to be his truest self there. Frisk's town is probably just boring to him as well.

[saanphoenix]

Y'know what I really think?

The main draw to Zenos that my WoL has is the same draw adventure holds, that learning about new areas holds.

Don't know shit about nothing. Just wanna see what's out there.

Zenos is uncharted land and my WoL's got a machete. She's goin' in.

Someone could be like, "No. Don't. You could die!" And she's just gonna channel Peter Pan and go, "To die will be an awfully big adventure."

Or, in more modern terms: "Leeroy Jenkins!"

[bloopdydooooo]

what's your doctor who wtnv crossover like? 👀

i am so glad you asked! (category 7 adhd event to follow)

so our doctor is cecil (no assigned number since i didnt want to cram the wtnv characters into a doctor who plot line when it would be so easy to make a new one special for them (though cecil does come from a welsh surname meaning sixth (among other things) so he could replace the 6th doctor? it doesn’t matter either way)) and while his name is, as always, just ‘the Doctor’, he lets carlos call him cecil as a treat cause they’re in looooooove <33 (he used cecil palmer like john smith when they met and carlos really like the name (it’s so i don’t have to completely erase either ‘the doctor’ or ‘cecil’ and i think i’m awfully clever) anyways he’s like doctor-weird plus cecil-weird, because they’re all so fucking bizarre (affectionate) he kicks off the fic adjusting to the new body and i felt the need to acknowledge the fact that cecil is usamerican while the doctors generally are Not (is a good fic if you don’t slander your own accent a little bit?)

i considered making carlos the doctor, because he’s. you know. a scientist and not a silly goofy gay who works in community radio, but since so much of cecil’s story revolves around him not being quite as person as the rest of the people around him, about him losing track of his age and everything he’s been through, of him canonically dying multiple times, about his relationships with family and parenthood (etc) i just felt like it would be such a waste to not make him the doctor, yk? (i also considered changing up what it meant to be the doctor to include cecil’s title of ‘the voice’ but that felt like too much so we have doctor!cecil now)

so that means carlos is the companion, he’s introduced while studying the phantom ocean which was actually just like. a big weird alien fish. then they go to the dog park and the desert otherworld and have a bunch of doctor who-ified wtnv adventures together (like lee marvin‘a birthdays, the whispering forest, the auction, etc… but make it dr who sci-fi)

i know most of the actual episodes are the doctor saves his companion and Others, but i’m such a sucker for ‘the doctor needs help’ that i wrote in four chapters of carlos saving doctor!cecil (technically could be six, depends how you count it)

and we finish off with a daleks confrontation which takes place during the blood space wars, because you have to have the daleks at least once, and it’s a good cap on a fic

i’ve made it 13 chapters long, cause all the new who seasons are well. 13 episodes long. and i’m considering doing a (not-)christmas (because even though doctor!cecil wouldn’t be jewish it would be incredibly ethically fucked up if i just. chucked a canon jewish character into a christmas landscape w/out acknowledging it) special afterwards as is customary, to follow the bbc’s standards

i am literally so invested in this fic i’ve written the first three chapters so far and they’re all like double my usual length and i’m considering making them longer because i think there’s still more i could add.

anyways thank you so much for asking i am in love with the world i have created. (would you like the link to the doc? (im so proud of this i want everyone to read it and i only want to post it when i know that i have enough of a buffer for regular updates, given how long the chapters are) (obviously it’s fine if you don’t want to read it no pressure))

here’s a drawing of doctor!cecil i made (though i changed the cape to a tailcoat because it felt Better)

[ID: a black and whit pencil drawing of cecil as the doctor. he’s got dark skin and graying black hair. he’s wearing a puffy-sleeved shirt under a vest and a loosely-done tie. he’s wearing a bunch of jewelry, cat-ear headphones, and star-shaped glasses with beads on his glasses chain. he has multiple chains and beads handing from his belt and is wearing back pants with white pockets. he has a cape tied around his neck and in one hand he’s holding the sonic screwdriver, which he’s looking at and smiling. beside him it says ‘the Doctor (a.k.a. cecil)’ End ID]

i did draw carlos but he’s just like. some guy and i’m honestly not proud enough of that to post it here.

ok i think that’s all (it’s not but you get it)

[shannaraisles]

Under The Wilden Oak - for @euryalex

For @euryalex, who is an absolute star, and has been very patient with me through the commissioning process. Enjoy!

NOTE: this piece is adult in nature, exploring themes of physical intimacy in a consensual, loving relationship context. DLDR.

Under The Wilden Oak

Lips and hands, bodies pressed close; love and laughter and hope fusing in a single moment beneath the boughs of the Wilden Oak. Limbs splaying in awkward tenderness, each one fumbling for clumsy, affectionate dominance as they rolled back and forth in the fragrant grass until, at last, Wyll conceded with a low laugh, dragging Tara to rest atop him in an ungainly heap, grinning into her kiss with unabashed delight. 

She giggled in answer, her breath warming his lips with adoring mirth mere moments before the possessive, protective curl of his hands at her hips dragged a cooling gasp from those same lips at the urgent evidence of his desire, so long held back by the gentleman he could not help but be. 

“The rest of our lives, to be spent just like this?” she teased, the quirk of her smile drawing a fresh smile from him as he arched his neck, seeking her mouth for yet another kiss in celebration of the promises just made, hungry for more now there was no need to shyly seek permission to love and be loved. “Mmm ... that’s a rather large commitment, you know.”

She let out a low shriek as he surged beneath her, cackling into the muffle of her own hand even as he laid her gently in the covering sway of the forgiving grasses, leaning over her with the fierce cage of his own form. A cage to which she knew, now and always, she held the key. It was a freedom she had never hoped to have - the freedom to choose to stay. Did he really not know how precious that was?

“I prefer to think of it as an awfully big adventure,” was his counter to her tease, leaning down to rest his weight on the forearm that cradled the back of her neck. 

His hips pushed with impish eagerness into her own, and without the need for thought, her legs parted, welcoming the weight of his desire into the cradle of her thighs with a slow arch of her own back to greet him. She felt, more than heard, the sharp intake of his breath, muffled as it was against the smooth line of her neck, a moment of cooling damp on her skin overtaken a split second later by the wet heat of his ravenous mouth tracing greedy patterns inching ever downward. 

“I love you more than a mortal heart should be able to bear,” he murmured, painting her skin with the fervour of his adoration as her hands began their near-shy exploration of the planes of his back and sides. “Tell me to stop.”

Tara huffed out a laugh, long fingers curling about the ridged curve of one horn to pull him back to meet her gaze, letting him see the absolute certainty in those violet depths as she breathed out her response.

“Never.”

The word felt like a fierce growl from within, sounded like a feline purr to her ears, and was met with a lion’s roar of yearning need in her noble lover. Lips clashed with lips, tongues touched, tasted, battled for an eternity in a heartbeat; all sense of time and place were suddenly gone in the exquisite rush to touch and be touched, to prove beyond any shadows and any doubt that this was not only their choice, but their desire. 

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed into her kisses, one hand smoothing up over her side, palming the soft swell of her breast through the thin cloth of her dress. The brush of his thumb over the pebbled bud of her nipple sent a flickering flare of white hot electricity to earth itself deep within her core, chased by a shudder that wanted so much more. 

“You.” Tara groped for the right words, not quite knowing how to tell him what she truly wanted. “Any way you wish me to have you, dear heart, please.”

The sound he made could not be described in any language she could bring to mind. It was a growl and sigh, a moan and a gasp, an expression of desperation and relief and eager uncertainty all in one. His hand tightened for just a moment, fingertips wriggling until he found the edge of her dress, tracing the gentle curve of her breast to drag the cloth out of his way. She barely had a moment to register the prickling coolness of the breeze on her skin before his mouth fell upon her, suckling and nibbling in a frenzy that seemed designed to catapult her into ecstatic torment at the mere thought of his continued caresses. 

Her back arched without conscious thought, offering him more to touch and taste even as she felt the hand beneath her neck tug loose the knot that kept the fall of her dress from becoming a pool on the floor. With the knot gone, the cloth was soon to follow, gathered at her waist as Wyll tenderly eased her fully to her back in the mossy grass, freeing both hands to explore and learn even as he feasted on every tingling inch of her he could currently reach. She was dizzy with desire; each callused finger’s caress, each wet pass of his tongue, sending spikes of pure pleasure lancing through her until she trembled on the precipice of something deeper, stronger, more significant than mere lust. Her own hands finally found agency of their own, gripping at the ragged cloth of his shirt, dragging it upward, heedless of the warning sounds of tearing seams as she forced it over his head, baring his skin to her hungry eyes and hands. Wyll shivered beneath her regard, his gaze darkening ever more eagerly as her hands followed the longing passage of her eyes, tracing hard planes and soft lines, seeking out the scars he wore to lavish them with all the love she held fast in her heart for this unexpected wonder in her cold, chaotic life. 

Skin to skin flooded her with tingling sweetness, fueling her strength to push upward, roll Wyll to his back and straddle his hips, taking control for as long as he would allow it. Lips sought lips, hands reacquainting themselves with the growing familiarity of his athletic form, her own form arching into him under the teasing exploration of his touch as he trailed those gentle, weapon-callused fingers down over her bare back, grasping her tight to thrust his heat against her own, separated still by layers of leather and cloth. She could feel the liquid heat pooling at her centre, demanding a release that she was not yet ready to devour, at once too keen to touch starlight and afraid that it might not live up to the heady heights she had already imagined too many times before. 

Strange, then, that she felt no desire to hold it back, either, surrendering herself entirely to the warm strength and tender mercies of this man who had seen and been so much, both for himself and for others and finally now was irrevocably hers. Who needed vows and witnesses when there was a purity of adoring purpose shared between them ... a purity that seemed only to intensify as his hand slid between them to stroke first one finger, then two, between slick lips, seeking out a budding pearl of fizzing pleasure that Tara had felt almost certain he might not even know existed. But know, he did, and more; his touch was confident and assured, knowing not only where to tease her, but how, with flickering fingertips and circling thumb, other arm taut about her waist to hold her against the rising, crashing tide of ecstasy that would not relent until that, too, found its place in the overwhelming rush of loving desire, leaving her breathless and thrumming, trembling in his arms as lips traded sloppy kisses and purple butterflies slowly faded from their chaotic dance behind her eyelids. 

“Wyll ...”

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, each word a soft safety net to catch her shattering form as she felt herself coalesce in his arms once more. “So very beautiful, even in abandoned nearness. I love you so very deeply, my sweetheart, my joy ... my own dear heart.”

To hear her endearment for him echoed back to herself, knowing what those words meant to her when she spoke them and knowing his heart was as much hers as hers was now his ... was it any wonder her vision wavered for a soft moment, tears brimming only to be swallowed down as she captured his lips in a kiss that was as much conquest as surrender, hands roaming with possessive need to give him what he had just given her. It was not just the physical pleasure - though that alone, fueled as it was by unadulterated adoration, was more than enough to shake the foundation of her very being in more ways than she was truly willing to admit; it was the knowledge that he had chosen, and he had allowed her to choose, and this was their reward. She needed him to know, as deep in his core as she now knew, that they were meant to be here, beneath the Wilden Oak, sharing unspoken vows that could not easily now be broken. 

“I want you,” she breathed, words almost lost in the desperate play of lips and tongue and teeth, revelling in the squeeze of his arms tight around her back even as she rocked against him, tasting his breath in every groan she teased from him. “Take what you need, dear heart. Please.”

The way his breath caught in his throat could have ended her there, knowing intimately what such an offer meant to her. To offer him anything in this most vulnerable of moments, to trust that he would not abuse that trust ... how could he possibly refuse? WIth a throbbing groan, he rolled her tenderly to her back, wriggling with undignified eagerness to push away the tight cling of leather pants and linen smalls. Her own hands tugged at the fall of her dress, catching the briefest glimpse of him before he was over her once again, pouring his love into kisses even as she felt the thick length of him stroke rhythmically through the dewy slickness still pooling at her core. She felt herself arch as he angled himself to enter her, both of them shuddering at the first push, sweat stickiness clinging to each as they shared a low moan of unabashed delight at this first moment of unity. 

Breathless, she forced herself not to take the lead, letting her lover find his pace, his rhythm, hooking one thigh to his hip, gripping the curve of his back to guide him even as he  leaned over her, kisses still tumbling from his lips, painted with the ghost of his voice each time they found a particular angle, a specific motion, anything that taught them something about the other that should not be forgotten. Kisses became a breathless joining of lips as the coil wound tighter, as the motion grew shorter, faster, harder, each one racing the other toward that moment of blissful starlight, neither willing to leave the other behind them when they reached it at last. Tara’s cry of utter euphoria was swallowed by Wyll’s hungry kiss, his body stilling in the throes of his own elation barely a minute after hers, fingers entwined tight against the soft, mossy ground as seismic spasms rocked from him to her and back again. 

And after all the desperation and ecstasy and breathless, wanting desire ... there were smiles and laughter, arms softening their embrace as, nose to nose, the lovers giggled beneath the Wilden Oak, drunk on love and lust and shared devotion. 

“Wherever did you learn to do all that?” she murmured, drawing her knuckles along his cheek, trying to resist the urge to lap at the trickle of sweat chasing down his throat. 

She felt the blush under her touch before she saw it, Wyll’s abashed smile telling her a little of what she wanted to know before he could put words to it.

“I ... asked,” he admitted. “The wrong person, as it turns out.”

Tara’s brow rose as she shifted comfortably in his arms, too intrigued not to ask. 

“Who did you ask?”

Wyll chuckled, not quite able to meet her eyes. 

“Well, as it turns out, Karlach is very enthusiastic, but not particularly informative,” he confessed, doing his best to ignore Tara’s low chuckle in response. “Lae’zel, on the other hand ... she overheard the conversation and decided to educate me. Rather thoroughly, in fact.”

“I’m sorry ... Lae’zel was your sex tutor?” Tara stared at him for a long moment, enjoying his awkward wriggling under her fascinated gaze. She couldn’t hold it for very long, bursting into giggles that were quickly muffled with kisses as he poked at her sides for her teasing. “Now I want to know what she said!”

“I will never tell you,” he promised through a grin, looming over her as she laughed. “Are you done yet?”

“Never!”

“Never, hmm?” His grin did not fade even as he leaned down to her, silencing those impish giggles with yet more kisses. “Then I should do my best to earn all this mischief, don’t you think?”

She gasped as his hand slid down her side, kneading her skin even as he pulled her closer into the warmth of his frame. It appeared that the Blade of Avernus was not yet done with her, and who was she to argue? She hoped he would never be done with her. For the first time in her life, she had chosen and been chosen. He was hers, and she was his. Here, under the Wilden Oak, hearts bared and devotion assured, they knew they could face whatever came to them.

Just ... not until tomorrow morning.

[boostyourspirit]

*draws a Sonic I'm proud of* 🎉Yippee🎉

N E way this is how he looks in an awfully big adventure

All those times using the Chaos Emeralds have stained his quills rainbow and pretty

[rockislandadultreads]

Women’s History Month: More Nonfiction Recommendations 

The Woman They Could Not Silence by Kate Moore

1860: As the clash between the states rolls slowly to a boil, Elizabeth Packard, housewife and mother of six, is facing her own battle. The enemy sits across the table and sleeps in the next room. Her husband of twenty-one years is plotting against her because he feels increasingly threatened - by Elizabeth's intellect, independence, and unwillingness to stifle her own thoughts. So Theophilus makes a plan to put his wife back in her place. One summer morning, he has her committed to an insane asylum.

The horrific conditions inside the Illinois State Hospital in Jacksonville, Illinois, are overseen by Dr. Andrew McFarland, a man who will prove to be even more dangerous to Elizabeth than her traitorous husband. But most disturbing is that Elizabeth is not the only sane woman confined to the institution. There are many rational women on her ward who tell the same story: they've been committed not because they need medical treatment, but to keep them in line - conveniently labeled "crazy" so their voices are ignored.

No one is willing to fight for their freedom and, disenfranchised both by gender and the stigma of their supposed madness, they cannot possibly fight for themselves. But Elizabeth is about to discover that the merit of losing everything is that you then have nothing to lose...

The Book of Gutsy Women by Hillary Rodham Clinton & Chelsea Clinton

She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old. “Go ahead, ask your question,” her father urged, nudging her forward. She smiled shyly and said, “You’re my hero. Who’s yours?”

Many people - especially girls - have asked us that same question over the years. It’s one of our favorite topics.

Ensuring the rights and opportunities of women and girls remains a big piece of the unfinished business of the twenty-first century. While there’s a lot of work to do, we know that throughout history and around the globe women have overcome the toughest resistance imaginable to win victories that have made progress possible for all of us. That is the achievement of each of the women in this book.

So how did they do it? The answers are as unique as the women themselves. Civil rights activist Dorothy Height, LGBTQ trailblazer Edie Windsor, and swimmer Diana Nyad kept pushing forward, no matter what. Writers like Rachel Carson and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie named something no one had dared talk about before. Historian Mary Beard used wit to open doors that were once closed, and Wangari Maathai, who sparked a movement to plant trees, understood the power of role modeling. Harriet Tubman and Malala Yousafzai looked fear in the face and persevered. Nearly every single one of these women was fiercely optimistic - they had faith that their actions could make a difference. And they were right.

To us, they are all gutsy women - leaders with the courage to stand up to the status quo, ask hard questions, and get the job done. So in the moments when the long haul seems awfully long, we hope you will draw strength from these stories. We do. Because if history shows one thing, it’s that the world needs gutsy women.

Wonder Women by Sam Maggs

You may think you know women’s history pretty well. But have you ever heard of:

• Alice Ball, the chemist who developed an effective treatment for leprosy - only to have the credit taken by a man?

• Mary Sherman Morgan, the rocket scientist whose liquid fuel compounds blasted the first U.S. satellite into orbit?

• Huang Daopo, the inventor whose weaving technology revolutionized textile production in China - centuries before the cotton gin?

Smart women have always been able to achieve amazing things, even when the odds were stacked against them. In Wonder Women, author Sam Maggs tells the stories of the brilliant, brainy, and totally rad women in history who broke barriers as scientists, engineers, mathematicians, adventurers, and inventors. Plus, interviews with real-life women in STEM careers, an extensive bibliography, and a guide to women-centric science and technology organizations - all to show the many ways the geeky girls of today can help to build the future.

The Daughters of Kobani by Gayle Tzemach Lemmon

In 2014, northeastern Syria might have been the last place you would expect to find a revolution centered on women's rights. But that year, an all-female militia faced off against ISIS in a little town few had ever heard of: Kobani. By then, the Islamic State had swept across vast swaths of the country, taking town after town and spreading terror as the civil war burned all around it. From that unlikely showdown in Kobani emerged a fighting force that would wage war against ISIS across northern Syria alongside the United States. In the process, these women would spread their own political vision, determined to make women's equality a reality by fighting - house by house, street by street, city by city - the men who bought and sold women.

Based on years of on-the-ground reporting, The Daughters of Kobani is the unforgettable story of the women of the Kurdish militia that improbably became part of the world's best hope for stopping ISIS in Syria. Drawing from hundreds of hours of interviews, bestselling author Gayle Tzemach Lemmon introduces us to the women fighting on the front lines, determined to not only extinguish the terror of ISIS but also prove that women could lead in war and must enjoy equal rights come the peace. In helping to cement the territorial defeat of ISIS, whose savagery toward women astounded the world, these women played a central role in neutralizing the threat the group posed worldwide. In the process they earned the respect - and significant military support - of U.S. Special Operations Forces.

[chaoticrebels]

✩༺♥༻✩ ━ ❝ "You bloody idiot!" It was strange, seeing the usually quietly meek and soft spoken little dormouse raising her voice to anyone - much less someone who could kill her (and almost had when they first met).

But she was. Her face flushed red in her frustration with the exotically beautiful Elf Prince, her petite and soft hands clenched so tightly they were trembling at her sides. "Were you TRYING to get yourself killed!?! What would you have done if I hadn't gotten here in time to save your life?!"

Well, the answer to that was simple wasn't it? He probably would have just been dead. As it was, his blood had splattered on the ground, painting it like an oil painting gone wrong. It had taken much of her energy to draw the life magic from the ground to seal his wounds, so much so she finally chocked out a gasp and dropped to her knees beside him. "Please never do that again, Ki. You are someone I never want to lose." ❞

✪ 。゜ ⠀ ☆ 。゜ ⠀ ★ Answered » { Layla }

✦ —   * ⠀ / ⠀ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ⠀﹕⠀ ❪ @ofwondersandhares ❫

It was just another mission, like any of them before. Just more dangerous, which in retrospect should've been left to someone else. Not the prince, not when the price of failing was death. And his bodyguard had argued as much because he had a bad feeling but Kimo didn't listen to the pleas, just snuck away because he was confident in his skills and there was no secret to why because he had the target within an inch of their life as they spilled the information he was after but then he was betrayed. And while the elf could have easily gotten out of there, he wanted revenge. Especially when he could hear the taunting, yet that was a mistake on his part because it was a trap, he should have waited but emotions were running high and he reacted without thinking which was stupidity on his part. Because now the roles were reversed for a bit until they messed up at the sound of an unexpected arrival, giving him a moment to turn invisible and using his magic to do what was needed to escape before falling into a pool of his own blood. Becoming visible once more when he was alone, his natural form on display as laid there dying.

Which was a strange feeling to experience, the pain midst the bitterness of knowing it was the end and you'll never experience certain things. But there was a calm acceptance that made it kinda a serene moment for him, even if this wasn't his ideal ending. And then that moment was interrupted when his colorful hues locked on a familiar moment, which only caused his lips to curve upwards. But his smile fell at the yelling, at the name calling. And if it was almost anyone else, he would have made them regret it despite his current situation. Instead he just listened to her yelling at him, until he pushed himself up off the ground and cupped her cheeks. ❝Mousey..❞ The prince voiced out in a soft breath, thumbs running up and down her redden skin before he let go and was instantly on the ground again because holding himself in standing position was draining him faster. ❝No, not at all but I knew the risks. I'm not afraid of dying, to die would be an awfully big adventure. I just wanted revenge, to shut up the person who betrayed me. I just underestimated the idiot, which is on me. And isn't it a bit obvious what would happen if you didn't show up, I would be dead.❞ Given the fact the ground was painted with his blood, her cheeks even sported his blood now and that caused him to give her a sheepish grin.

And before he could protest, she was healing him. Which this time he didn't get startled but he did frown, only because he couldn't imagine how much energy she had just used to do so. A concerned frown gracing his features as Layla dropped down next to him, listening to her ask him nicely to not do it again, listening to her confess she didn't want to lose him. And in response, Kimo repositioned himself. Tempted to channel his magic to help her out in return but he didn't feel like putting his bioluminescence on display in this condition, plus he didn't know if he had the energy to channel either the light or dark magic after using it earlier during his escape. Instead he cupped her cheeks once more as he pressed his forehead against hers, almost tempted to kiss her but that thought caused him to blush.

❝Oh Mousey, I promise I'll be more careful. But don't you know that no matter what happens Layla, you'll never truly lose me. I'll always be with you.❞ And that wasn't exactly a lie because in a way, he always would be. But luckily for now, it was while he was breathing and while he didn't know he life span, his species lived far longer than the creatures that inhabited this planet.