#aisling writings

[sherlockgracie]

1: I Can't Forget

When i put on that shirt i realized that it wasn't just you i missed i forgot what you felt like too I decided to never take off this shirt

I sat fully unaware of time as i waited for something I knew wasn't coming dreamed of a call that wasn't your voice I decided to think only words you said Thought about baking tiramisu I remembered i didn't make my favourite dessert for you I can only eat things we ate together

Ive centered my life around a vague shape if i forget what it looks like Ill crumble and be no longer me So instead of letting the memories fade like i usually would as I change I'll keep it all the same

[fisheito]

this vision descended upon me while riding the bus

[pequins]

thinking many thoughts about in this vid

schlatt is so pathetic when he cant see, the little “i cant” whine has me bricked. (around 9:35) i just keep imagining blindfolding this 6’3 behemoth of a man and turning him into a subby mess <3

the way ted whispers and asks if he’s a “nice boy” while holding his chin (at 9:30) is so ughhgh. soft dom ted supremacy.

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking of an isekaied reader and a yandere noble boy...

(gn reader x male yandere)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

tw: manipulative behavior

about a day has passed since your conversation with oliver in the garden. you recall his face, gentle and kind. you recall his words, soft and sweet. your parents love him, apparently you love him, so you might as well just go with it.

in the garden when he presented you with the two flowers, you remember how his face lit up with joy and warmth once you accepted his confession and decided to "continue" seeing him. his dark brown eyes looked at you so softly, and his smile was so wide and bright. it was hard to not trust him, especially when he was "your" lover.

you still didn't know him that well, and you were still unable to identify which world you were "isekaied" into, but it hasn't been unbearable so far. even still, you determined that oliver seemed trustworthy enough to honestly answer some questions to soothe any concerns you had about this world.

your questions about this world led to you having another meeting with oliver, this time at your request. after yesterday's walk in the garden, you asked if he would be able to come again soon since there were just a couple things your bout of amnesia seemed to make you forget.

immediately after you stated your request, he smiled and replied "of course, love! i'll come back tomorrow!"

thus, bringing you to your third meeting with oliver since you have arrived in this body. now that you two are officially lovers, he seems much more open about his concern, but also his affection.

he did respect your request to "start over," but he still looked like a dejected puppy whenever he held out his hand and was met with a confused stare. after realizing that he was just trying to hold your hand, you apprehensively reached out towards him.

he immediately snatched your hand and his demeanor swapped from a kicked puppy back to just a cheerful young man.

the two of you walked a ways into the garden, finding a bench near some rhododendrons that oliver said would probably bloom soon. the bench itself was in the middle of three bushes of rhododendrons, one to each side and one behind. the bench happened to be distant enough from the entrance of the garden and covered by enough foliage to make it impossible to spot from the estate.

oliver sat down on the bench and gently patted the space next to him, letting go of you hand in the process. "so, you mentioned your amnesia made it difficult to recall certain things about this... world?"

you quickly took the spot on the bench, now sitting side by side with oliver but avoiding his gaze by staring at the foliage in front of you. "i... remember bits and pieces..." which was technically a lie, considering you don't remember anything, but he didn't need to know that, "but mainly things like our country's... monarchy? have escaped me, i guess..." you were unsure if you even lived in a monarchy, but with the presence of nobility in this country it was your best guess.

"yes, we do, in fact, live in a monarchy," he giggled, "but honestly, there's not really a point to learning much about the state of it."

you paused at his sudden statement, "can you elaborate?"

"well..." he thought for a moment, shifting his gaze up to the sky, "there's a lot of infighting going on in the royal family, so the current 'crown prince' may not be the crown prince for much longer."

he continued, now looking at you, "my family works closely as advisors to the royal family, so i'm aware of the... instability... within their palace walls."

you finally shifted your gaze to meet his, "this seems like something i should know, so why wouldn't i need to know this?"

his expression appeared a bit colder after asking that, "well, anything i tell you is probably going to be untrue in a couple of weeks or months." his face shifted back into a happier expression, "so maybe let's talk about something else?"

you decided to push the issue one more time to see if you could glean anything else about the topic. usually in these types of stories the "crown prince" is a major character, and any infighting within the royal family would likely become a major plot point. this could finally be the piece of information you need to determine where you are.

you smiled back at him, "even still, do you mind telling me who the current crown prince is? or just listing a couple names? maybe it could help jog my memory."

he sighs softly before looking away, "why do you want to know so badly? the crown prince is an... interesting... person, but i have a strong feeling that he is going to lose his head soon."

"why? just who is he?"

he slumps over onto your side, catching you off guard "can we please talk about something else?" he wraps one of his hands around your hand, still halfway slumped onto you, "i've been worried sick about you," he reaches up to touch your face with his other hand, "and i just want to spend time with my lover, preferably while not talking about another man."

"...did you actually plan on answering any of my questions today?"

he shifts to lay his head down on your lap, "mmmm... maybe, but i would be lying if i said i didn't want to focus on us today instead of royal politics."

he looks comfortable and content resting his head on your thighs, but you're unsure where to put your unoccupied hand, eventually deciding to just rest it in his fluffy hair, "so... what else was i supposed to ask?"

he looks up at you, once again taking on an expression comparable to a kicked puppy, "ask about me, ask about us, just..." he pauses, "you wanted to start our relationship from the beginning, so let's do that,"

"just focus on me, darling, not them, and i'll answer any questions you have~"

a/n: oliver is a sweet yet manipulative boy. there is crown prince lore but i'm probably not going to make him a love interest in this unless its requested. and if i do it'll probably be a separate story. unless we want to see oliver kill a man, i guess.

[the-palelady]

could you mayhaps perhaps potentially elaborate on simon meeting the love of his life????

this made me giggle

but absolutely

because when i tell you he is down bad…he is down bad bad.

the tickets were soap’s, but he couldn’t possibly go alone. kyle might have been down to attend, but in johnny’s eyes asking simon, a quiet man who you wouldn’t catch dead in a crowded place like this, sounded much more interesting.

of course, simon was reluctant, saying no a million times before he finally gave in. which took some bribing on soap’s end (listen, free beer is free beer).

the show was packed. shoulders touching shoulders, people practically climbing over one another as the stadium’s energy became more intense. but simon had to admit to himself that he was enjoying it, tapping his foot to the beat of the music, a beer in one hand and his free hand shoved into his pants pockets. the colorful lights reflected off his amber eyes until the shine of your own eyes caught his attention.

you were so bright eyed and full of energy. you sang each song, word for word, with the people around you, uncaring of what was going on beyond the walls of the stadium. it was just you and the music. simon almost felt like he was intruding on the peaceful moment you were having (even though ride the lightning is hardly a peaceful song).

it took until almost the end of the show for him to finally work up the courage to speak to you, pushing through the crowd of people as he followed you out to the lobby.

once the concert was over, johnny turned to simon only to find a group of teenagers standing in his place. soap didn’t expect to lose his lieutenant in a place like this. but after almost 30 minutes of searching, he really didn’t expect to find simon leaning against a wall, hands once again nestled into the pockets of his jeans and his hooded head tilted downwards, seemingly looking at something.

“there ya fuckin’ are, lt. been lookin’ for ya fo-”

johnny’s mouth locks itself shut when you come into view, his words not even reaching simon’s ears, too fixated on you.

tiny little thing you are in comparison to simon, monster of a man he is. you have a band shirt on, makeup done although your eyeliner is a bit smudged, and hair jostled about, sticking up in some places. your fingers fiddle with one another, clasped together as you rambled on about something to romeo in front of you.

a sea of people has to step around johnny, his jaw practically touching the floor as he watches simon’s usually disinterested expression stay locked onto you, eating up every word that slips from your mouth. he can see the fireworks going off in simon’s eyes, the subtle nod of his head, urging you to keep speaking. his mouth moves under the black mask that obscures the lower half of his face, but johnny’s not close enough to hear what he’s saying.

even sees his shoulders shake, laughing at something you had said, to which you join in with your own giggles.

after some time, someone shouts, and from the way you perk up, johnny assumes it’s the group you came to the concert with. when you turn back, he utters something before his hand slips out of his pocket, holding his phone out to you.

you take the device with a smile, tapping something in before handing it back and leaving with a big grin spreading across your face, cheeks rosy red and eyes just as sparkly as simon’s.

johnny’s voice doesn’t even break simon from his thoughts when he finally approaches him, still watching you scurry away with your friends.

“thought i was ‘ere to see metallica?! no’ fuckin’ romeo and juliet.”

[gaylienz]

i just keep thinking about zim (whose attention has since diverted from claiming earth to claiming dib bc they are intrinsically connected in his mind and he cant have one without the other) discovering the original point of weddings/marriage which was about like -property- and -ownership- and learning about such phrases like -til death do us part- and seeing all the stupid heterosexual imagery of like balls-n-chains and just kind of like......becoming obsessed with the idea of marrying dib.

he does all the -research- of course and learns that the concept of marriage and weddings have changed quite a bit but not the CORE of it which is two people being tied together (which appeals to him....dib stuck with him, forced to be his servant, forced to care for him in 'sickness and in health', dib unable to escape their rivalry, the dib HIS FOREVER). he sees pictures of all the big pretty gowns and the attention that the newly wed get and the big CAKES ofc and says....i would have the best, the biggest, most impressive, most expensive wedding ever. in fact....-rubs hands together menacingly-

and so his next evil plan is to drain the dib of all his fiances and trap the hero of earth at the altar in a loveless marriage for all eternity hahahahaha! (meanwhile he doesnt know anything about like bureaucracy so it wouldnt be legally binding but the two of them would treat it like it was, with all the seriousness and drama that it entailed.)

[greypetrel]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @pickelda, thank you so much! I have only one thing I'm working on, I don't know if I'll be able to post it today. I tried to take a pic at my sketchbook for a study page I'm happy about but eh, it's evening and the light is bad. So, just one picture and some DadWolf writing after the cut.

tagging: @salsedinepicta @ndostairlyrium @shivunin @inquisimer @star--nymph @shivunin @saltyowlets @idolsgf @pinayelf @chanafehs @elfroot-and-laurels @raflesia65 @rosieofcorona @schwarznummer1 @hollytree33 and YOU!

Aisling had, successfully, contributed into developing a spell that with the right source of energy would have allowed the caster to travel in space and time. She got in so much trouble for it that she had to throw six years of work and studies in the gutter, start fresh, account her movements and time to the Right Hand of the Divine for protection.

And yet, that still wasn’t the weirdest thing she ever did, in the end.

Cullen was the weirdest, by all.

If anyone would have asked her, but a month and a half prior, she would have said that yes. They’ve been very close in childhood, he’d been her dearest friend, but they took different paths in life, and he didn’t like her at all anymore. It happens.

Now?

They started writing.

He did, indeed, came to say hello to Felix, the next Wednesday -he was always in the hospital on Wednesday, Aisling was dying to know why, but she was afraid he would have closed off like a hedgehog again. Some weeks he looked fine, others he seemed spooked. So, she didn’t, and enjoyed what she had.

Still undecided what to do with… Whatever they had. Friendship? She wanted at least a couple of excuses, it wasn’t asking much, was it?

“Sure it’s not asking much.” Grumbled Dorian, at dinner when she told him. “Should I recover all your messages from Kirkwall and show you how stressed you were? You got back that you were almost as bald as Solas.”

“It wasn’t all his fault, honestly.” Aisling rebuked.

��Maybe, but he didn’t help, did he?”

“Well…”

“Do I have to remind you what happened when we tried to reach him in Denerim?”

“What happened?” Asked Sera, little interest to the whole topic, truth to be told. She slurped her instant ramen aloud.

“We showed up at the academy, asked about him, the thugs at the entrance returned five minutes later and tried to arrest Aisling for magical aggression.”

“Wooooh, Wiseshit, you’ve been to jail?” The elf perked up, recovering all her interest. “I thought all people in Physics were hopeless, boring nerds, but you’re more interesting than I thought.”

“Hey! We’re rock stars.”

“Sure.” Sera snorted. “And I’m the princess of Orlais.”

“Your majesty, I pay my humblest homage to your magnificence.” Dorian bowed with a flourish.

“Eeeeew.” Sera laughed, nevertheless. “Stop it!”

“Of course, whatever your excellences bids, I am a worthless subject to her radiance, and I will of course obey.”

“I have never been to jail, they just told me to shoo off and lay low from then on.” Aisling pointed out, pouting down at her ramen. Indeed it was musky and not so inviting. She missed Felix’s cooking, he always either stopped at their place to have dinner all together, or invited them at his place, but she kept that thought for herself.

“Pfffft, bummer.”

Aisling got to bed without a clear answer. Just a lot of grumbling and complaining from Dorian, and an unanswered message on her phone.

Truth to be told, she had no idea about what to do and what to think of it, whether to trust the process and lean in the nostalgy, or be wary and remember that in both instances when they saw each other as adults, she ended up in tears, and she had heard people in the Gallows speaking of Cullen and saying he thought mages weren’t human.

When she read the message again, asking her to pass him one, and he said one pop song that was better when in a metal cover, and she couldn’t exactly believe them.

A minute to find the link she sought on YouTube, and she tapped a quick answer. They way she would have done fifteen years before.

Aisling, 22:39 [  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHhWelSBppY Try not to dance, come on. And find me one popstar that covered a metal song with the same level of hype, come on. I admit that Lord Huron has a nice voice, but he could never. ]

There was something that scared her, and scared her a lot, but she fought it. It was nice, even for some minute, to pretend everything was back to normal.

[exhaustedpirate]

a kept promise

day 17 of @bucktommyfluffebruary (i'm catching up!) wanted a redo of the hospital kiss and it ended up having a lot of buckley siblings love and buckley parents hate so you've been warned! also, interrupted homophobia? i guess?

rated G | 1673 words also on AO3

He is late.

He is the man of honor and he is late.

Buck is pacing on the hotel lobby, fingers running through his hair, ruining the perfectly gelled hairstyle he had spent an hour fixing. He is late.

“Buck, the ceremony is starting in five minutes,” Hen reminds him, looking exasperated but understanding. “He’ll meet you inside.” 

It’s not the first time Hen has told him that, not even the second or third, but he still waves her away. Tommy promised. He promised he would do his damnedest to make it to the wedding.

But it had been 10 hours since the last text message Tommy sent him. He had a break and wanted to message Buck to say he was okay and attached a picture of a granola bar and bottle of water in his dirty hand - but he had been busy dealing with the missing veil and trying to stop his sister’s spiral. 

Tommy isn’t late, not yet anyway. And for all Buck knows, he won’t even be able to show up. It’s not like a wildfire is gonna stop just so he can be Buck’s plus one. He wishes it would though. Besides, they’ve been on one date, it’s new. Tommy would probably prefer to go home and rest rather than be at a wedding he was invited to last minute.

He opens their text message for the 50th time in the past hour. After he had missed Tommy’s last message, he sent him a picture of his suit, knowing that the blue of his tie matched his eyes. Buck’s next messages were a mix of ceremony schedule reminders and reassuring Tommy that it’d be okay if he couldn’t come.

Buck really wants Tommy there.

“Three minute warning, Buckaroo,” Hen calls out, not really having left. “Get your ass in gear or I’m sending Maddie to get you next.” 

Buck winces, touching his ears. “He’ll be here.” He says with a determination he doesn’t feel, before waving Hen away once more.

Two minutes later, Buck sighs defeated. He can’t ruin his sister’s wedding, not when she waited so long to find someone like Chimney, someone that makes her so happy, that is perfect for her.

He drags his feet on the way to the room beside the garden entrance. He can see the altar and the crowd filling the chairs lined up on the grass, can hear the enthusiastic whispering of family and friends. Notices Chim’s nervous jittering and Hen’s fondly exasperated expression. Sees Jee in an intense conversation with the Lees in the front row. Sees the three empty chairs right next to them and his chest feels tight.

His parents are currently in the room with Maddie, making sure she’s ready and calm while Buck has been stressfully pacing in the lobby. And the third chair is for Tommy, not that his parents know about it. He feels a little bad forcing Tommy into the same space as them but he knows how much the Buckleys despise a scene.

He wants to look out into the crowd and see Tommy there, wants to see that scrunchy smile on his face, the way his eyes get so bright when he does. 

The door to his right opens suddenly and both he and Philip Buckley startle. “E-Buck, what are you doing out here? Your sister has been waiting for you forever!”

His tone is exasperated but Buck can hear the bitterness in his voice too. Their father hadn’t been all too pleased when he found out Buck was going to be walking Maddie down the aisle.

“Is that Evan?” His mom’s voice approaches as she finishes opening the door. “You are making Maddie late.” She accuses and he sighs.

His eyes find his sister and he feels his lips stretch in a small smile. Maddie looks beautiful, the dress is perfect on her and he sees the way she relaxes when their eyes meet. She is still nervous, of course she is, but she knows she can count on him. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head at her. Her head tilts in disappointment. 

Maddie knows. Of course Maddie knows.

She gave him permission to invite Tommy, with Chimney’s complete support. She’s the one who rearranged the whole sitting area so that Tommy could sit in the front row. She’s the one who asked him to walk her down the aisle, who told their parents without a shadow of a doubt that it was her wedding and her decision.

He loves her.

“Let’s go, Evan,” His father puts a hand on his shoulder pulling him into the room. “They are all waiting.”

Buck takes a step forward before he feels his phone vibrate in his hand. 

I’m here.

Tommy. His heart pounds against his chest and he raises wide pleading eyes towards Maddie who smiles and nods. He loves her.

Wrenching away from his father’s hold and ignoring their calls of his name, Buck rushes back towards the lobby and watches as Tommy walks through the hotel doors still in his turnouts, soot covering his face and a tired smile on his face.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Tommy says as they approach one another. His heart is fit to burst in his chest. “My phone died just as I was goi-” 

Buck interrupts him by taking hold of the back of his neck pulling him into a hard kiss, swallowing the surprised moan he lets out. He ignores everything around him as he focuses on the feel of Tommy’s lips on his, on the tight hold his hands have on Buck’s waist. On the fact that Tommy showed up. On the fact that Tommy is there.

They break apart but Buck refuses to let go of him, to get out of this bubble they’ve created just for them. “You’re here,” He whispers. “You’re really here.”

“I told you I’d try,” Tommy whispers back, hands caressing his sides under his suit jacket. “I wanted to be here for you.”

Buck shakes his head slowly, their foreheads rubbing together before he pulls away. He opens his eyes to see Tommy’s already looking back at him, that soft look on his face.

“Come with me,” Buck says, taking hold of Tommy’s hand to pull him towards the bride’s room. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Evan Buckley!” His mom whisper-shouts, her mouth in a tight grimace. Tommy’s hand on his tenses but Buck keeps a tight hold on it.

“Just a minute.” Buck holds out a finger towards his gawking parents.

He walks through the door followed by Tommy who tries to hide a laugh with a cough, not successfully - it only makes Buck like him more. Maddie is still where she had been, standing in front of the mirror, nervous excitement in all her limbs. Her eyes widen as she meets Buck’s eyes in the mirror and she turns with a wide grin.

“'Hot pilot doesn’t do him justice, Buck.” She comments and he feels his face flush.

“Maddie,” Buck starts as they stand inside the room. Tommy is looking at her with a grin, despite his obvious blush and he forces himself to focus. “This is Tommy. Tommy, this is my sister, Maddie.”

The older man turns to the bride and holds out a hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, I feel like I know you already.”

“Oh, me too.” 

Buck groans, in faux disgruntlement, as they turn knowing smiles towards him. “Alright, alright, we’ll have time for this later,” He approaches Maddie, letting go of Tommy’s hand to hold hers. “I’m sorry that I delayed your wedding.”

“I want my man of honor happy,” Maddie cups his cheek with her free hand and they share a laugh. “You don’t need to apologise.”

“Thank you.” His voice comes out as a whisper, his chest tight with love.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring a suit,” Tommy interrupts after a moment, a sheepish smile on his sooty face. “I can stand in the back row.”

That summoned Phillip Buckley. “Well, that is probably-”

“Nonsense,” Maddie interrupts in a louder tone. “We saved you a seat on the front row,” Her smile widens at the wide eyed expression on Tommy's face and how it reflected on their parent’s faces, with very different meanings. “There’s a bathroom behind you if you wanna wash up, we’ll wait.” 

Tommy stumbles as he takes a step back towards the door, looking overwhelmed but happy. Buck gives him an encouraging smile. “We’ll wait.” He repeats and Tommy nods, finally walking through the door behind him.

“Maddie-” 

“Mom, Dad,” His sister interrupts their mother this time. “Why don’t you go ahead and find your seats, let them know we’ll be out in a couple of minutes?”

“Maddie, you can’t possibly expect to sit-”

“Please, Mom?” Maybe he isn’t the only one with extraordinary pouting abilities.

They wait until their parents stumble out of the room to giggle together. 

“Thank you, Maddie, for everything.” 

She kisses his forehead and he feels complete. “You’re welcome,” She taps his cheek with a knowing smirk. “Go wash up too, you have soot all over your face.”

“Oh,” He feels bright red but unashamed. “I-I’ll do that.”

Her giggles follow him into the bathroom where he laughs alongside Tommy. 

And that’s how, among suits and dresses of multiple colours, an LAFD t-shirt and sooty trousers-wearing happily-tired firefighter sits on the front row. 

Buck finds himself looking out into the crowd every second, ignoring his parent’s secretly displeased expressions to find Tommy’s bright smile directed at him. Tommy came for him.

And as they dance in the decorated ballroom, Buck’s head laying on Tommy’s shoulder, the smell of smoke, ash and forest seeping into his nose, feels Tommy’s arms wrapped around him, a strong, steady hold, he feels at ease. It might be too soon but, as they share a soft kiss under the colourful lights, swaying to the tune of a slow song, he feels like Tommy might be the one.

[ahecen]

short something on annabeth telling her father that she and percy are engaged

“Don’t you think you should tell him?”

“It would probably be the least surprising news to him.”

Percy smiles, however small. “Won’t we want our kids to tell us when they’re engaged?”

“We’ll actually have good relationships with our kids.”

“Just think about it, okay?”

This feels an awful lot like being twelve, the same boy encouraging her to try again with her father. If Annabeth’s fatal flaw wasn’t hubris, she thinks it might be giving too many chances to people who have hurt her too many times.

Fatal for a reason.

So she calls him. It only takes three weeks, which Annabeth considers to be a feat.

“Percy and I are getting married.” She’s so focused on the lack of sound coming from the other end that she doesn’t involuntarily smile at the statement, in the way she grins ridiculously when she looks at the pearl on her ring or talks to Sally about dresses.

“Oh,” he says warmly. “Good for you, honey. When’s the ceremony?”

Her heart beats frantically in her chest, though logically it shouldn’t. “Next week. It’s just the courthouse, no frills or anything.”

“Oh,” he says, a little devoid of that warmth, replaced with confusion. “When you were little, you always wanted one of those big Disney princess weddings.”

Did she? That doesn’t seem relevant. “Percy and I are so busy all the time, and we didn’t want to spend months waiting. We’ve never really wanted something big anyway.”

“Your stepmother and I were the same. Always busy.”

“You had a wedding though.”

“Helen hired a wedding planner to sort through everything.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Annabeth’s too much of a control freak to let someone take over such a monumental event. Because the thing is — marrying Percy is monumental, even if all that really happens is signing a few pieces of paper. It’s more of a feeling than anything.

Percy and Annabeth have never done well in the patience department. She’s working her ass off so she can hopefully get a raise and they can hopefully be comfortable in their financial situation before having kids. Percy’s knees deep in research at all times, trying to get his grant approved. So yeah, even though there’s a lot going on, they still really want to get married. It’s a feeling that outweighs logic, but they can afford it.

Not to mention, weddings are expensive. Annabeth neglects to mention who will be at their low-key ceremony, because it’ll be further reason as to why her father should be there.

That monumental feeling is why she doesn’t want him there. He shouldn’t get to be there, even if Annabeth is the age he was when she was forced into his life. She understands why her father acted the way he did, what led to him acting that way, what made him keep acting that way, but it doesn’t change what happened. Annabeth can sympathize with him and still stick by the little girl who had no one.

It’s just not something he needs to be there for. It was different when Annabeth graduated high school and college, where academia was one of the few things father and daughter connected over. She wanted him there. She was overjoyed when he was there.

Marriage is different. It’s difficult to explain. She’s grateful that the people in her life don’t try and pry it out of her. They get it because they get her. Frederick doesn’t get her, even if Annabeth has come to realize that parent/child relationships are more 50/50 than her teenage self previously thought.

(Maybe Annabeth still holds a little bit of a grudge for her five-year-old self who wasn’t allowed at the “no kids” Chase wedding. Just partially.)

And so when he tells her that he’ll try to work something out to come to New York, she blurts out, “Please don’t.”

A pause. Then, “It’s not a problem, honey, I’m happy to fly out.”

“No, I… it’s not like that. It’s not a wedding, we’re just signing papers. Seriously.”

Obviously he wants to be there for his daughter’s wedding. Unless he feels obligated to? In the same way his apologies over the years have mostly been of monetary value.

A longer pause. He’s thinking. “Annabeth, why don’t you want me to see you? I assume Percy’s family will be there.”

“I don’t know,” she tries to say, but her voice comes out hoarse. How quickly Frederick Chase can make her cry, and how often it is of her own doing. An odd weight churns in her chest every time he proves that she isn’t a stranger. “I’m sorry. I just thought I should let you know.”

She can never get it right with him. Somehow, Annabeth’s able to write speeches in her head addressed to him, but all previous plans escape her mind when the opportunity is presented on a silver platter.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.” It isn’t crying if the tears are simply pooling in her eyes. “I just feel bad.”

“Don’t-don’t feel bad. It’s your life. I’m grateful to be a part of it in any way.”

Annabeth swallows, but the lump in her throat stays. One after the other, treacherous tears fall down her skin. She wipes them away, but they smear uncomfortably. She wants to crawl out of her body. “But you’re not a part of my life.”

“Do you even want me to be?”

No. Yes. Why is she at such a loss? It’s been so long, she should be able to handle this by now. “It’s hard. You… never have been. So it’s hard to do that now, even if I want it.”

“It’s hard for me too.”

Why is that okay? He should know by now. He’s twice her age, but they see the same. None of that is right. “I’m sorry,” Annabeth tells him. And she hangs up.

There isn’t anything more to say. For years, they’ve had an understanding that they don’t understand each other. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. It’s just the way things are, even if it makes Annabeth feel like a terrible daughter. A part of her doesn’t want that chasm between them to close. Always on the edge of reconciliation, understanding.

[sherlockgracie]

Tusk by Fleetwood Mac is uhhhh way too much for my tiny lil brain to handle. I do not understand why I have grown so attached to this tune. The Hyperfixation songs my brain chooses are always so fucking strange. I was just listening to some of Fleetwood Mac's Discography bc my partner loves them and I listened to Tusk and it just clicked my head into gear. I don't even like matching tunes or songs of that vibe, there is a reason I did concert band and not marching.

Tusk!

Just how they say it. Like a hushed whisper scream

Tusk!

I really feel like the force of thousands of spirits is coming for me. Like the image of a mass murderer or serial killer, or even like a powerful political person being ushered into the center of a stadium, full of people with this song playing as their being walked, the crowd screaming tusk as they're about to be publicly brutalized and killed.

TUSK!

It just has the building aspect to it where instruments get added, and it just has such a heavy and dark feel with that energetic vibe. Ugh it just feels so emotionally charged and brutal. It's almost like the antithesis of the other Fleetwood Mac song I've been listening to, Silver Springs. Where Silver Springs is the emotional turmoil and vitriol of the aftermath, while being mellow and powerful. Tusk is in your face about it, it's the before. I know shit is happening and I'm going to be spiteful about it.

Idk they feel like lyrical and musical parallels to me, but I could just be feeling high emotions around these songs because that's what I do with music

That being said

TUSK!!!!

[essie-essex]

Here's a thing or whatever...

“What do you think you're doing?” Regent Sturbridge yelled as she stomped her way down the hall in search of the racket that shook the chantry walls.

Clang!

Aisling gritted her teeth as the noise startled her again and quickened her pace, homing in on the source of the disruption.

Clang!

Far enough away from the front door that she could not hear the girl's screams anymore, she caught the sound of another voice. It grunted, clearly from effort, right before the next—

Clang!

The Regent entered the visitors' common area to find an apprentice, a novice of the Second Circle, holding a padded wooden chair over her shoulder.

“Arrrraagghhh!” she screamed again, running towards the window and swinging the chair as hard as she could. It hit the glass with a loud—

Clang!

“What on Earth are you doing, child?” Aisling exclaimed, stepping towards the frenzied apprentice. “Novicia, put that chair down at once!”

The girl ignored the Regent, backing up with the chair up on her shoulder once again.

“Careful!” warned Aisling. “If you hit the ward—”

The apprentice swung the chair at the window, screaming harder than ever. As soon as the Regent heard the crackling sound, she knew the girl had hit one of the window's wards. The chair exploded to pieces, throwing the apprentice back. She hit the opposite wall, splinters of wood scattering through the air.

Aisling ran to the novice, grabbing her arm and picking her up from the floor. The girl's eyes met hers, her face streaked with blood tears.

“Asha Mariam, what exactly do you think you're doing?” Aisling hissed, pulling the novice towards her. Asha pushed her away, the anger on her face, apparent.

“You can't do this to her! I won't let you!” Asha ran past her, heading towards the front door.

“Do not open that door, child!” Aisling called, following after the apprentice. As she neared the foyer, she could hear the other girl's cries again.

“Regentia! Please let me in!” she cried, her voice muffled through the wall. She banged and scratched at the wooden barrier. “Please! I'm sorry! I'll never be late again! Please!”

Asha had made it to the door, but struggled to unlock it.

“How do I...” she murmured.

“You don't,” the Regent said sternly. “You go to your quarters right now.”

“No!” Asha screamed. “You're killing her! She was only five minutes late!”

“I have always made it clear that the door locks at 4 a.m. every night. No exceptions. She was late, and now, she will suffer the consequences.” Regent Sturbridge crossed her arms. “That's the way it has to be.”

The novice said nothing, staring at the front door as though she could intimidate it into opening.

“I don't accept that,” she stated, right before the atmosphere seemed to drop, as though all the energy in the air were being sucked into Asha's body. Aisling watched in slow motion as the girl concentrated the energy into a devastating attack in the form of a wave. It hit the door, shattering the wards and blowing the barrier right off its hinges.

“Michelle!” Asha called. “Hurry!”

Aisling could see that the sun had started to rise dangerously high in the sky. Michelle, the novice of the First Circle, who, up until a few seconds ago, had been left to die, rushed into the room, tripping over her own feet and sent sprawling to the ground, skinning her knees and hands.

“Away from the door!” The Regent said, grabbing both girls by the arm and pulling them further into the chantry as a beam of sunlight cut its way inside. It only took a few seconds for Aisling to recover, the rage inside her boiling over. “Both of you to your quarters. Now,” she ordered.

For once, Asha listened to her, making her way down the hallway as the younger apprentice followed.

Asha stared into the mirror, wiping the blood from her face with a wet towel. The bubbling vitae in her veins finally seemed to calm down, leaving her body trembling.

She knew she was in trouble. She had broken her promise to Strauss, who she assured that she would not cause any problems at the Chantry of the Five Burroughs. It was an honor, he told her, to be selected to study under Regent Aisling Sturbridge and to take part in the Tremere clan's efforts against the enemy in Sabbat-occupied New York. The situation in her previous chantry in Vineland had somehow turned out well, but he warned her that she would not always have that kind of luck.

Asha had just meant to keep her head down and do as she was told, but despite doing absolutely nothing, trouble came to the chantry. Co-Regent Foley had died during a ritual, and according to the rumors, it had been murder. Possibly involving another missing apprentice.

She did not understand why, but Regent Sturbridge had seemed to become suspicious of Asha after that. It didn't make any sense! Jacqueline was there in the room and did nothing. She hated Foley. Why wasn't she a suspect? Every time Asha interacted with the Regent, she seemed to gaze at her with probing eyes, as though there were some secret she could uncover if she just looked at the novice hard enough.

Asha had started to avoid the Regent, keeping to herself. She just wanted to mind her own business and study and not do anything to cause attention to herself.

But then, Michelle had returned to the chantry five minutes after curfew.

The next night, Asha was summoned to speak with Sturbridge. The Regent did not waste any time on small talk when Asha entered her office.

“You think you can just do whatever you want, don't you?”

“I—” Asha started before Regent Sturbridge raised her hand, cutting her off.

“It's funny that everywhere you go, trouble seems to follow.” Aisling stared down at the apprentice through her thick rimmed glasses. “Can you believe that before you arrived here, there were no deaths or disappearances? Not to mention, none of the blatant disrespect you showed me last night.”

Hot tears pooled in Asha's eyes once again. She had no regrets about saving Michelle's life and had no intention of apologizing for her actions. She stayed silent, eyes defiantly locking with the Regent's.

Aisling sighed.

“Child, you have to know that the rules are there for a very good reason.”

“And sometimes you have to bend them, because rules don't account for everything people are going to do. That includes kindred,” Asha replied stubbornly.

“You do not tell me how to run my chantry,” Aisling stated. “On the godforsaken chance that you are someday promoted to Regent and are given your own chantry, you can then bend whatever rules you want. I imagine that you will learn some important lessons. As for now, you are an apprentice. A novice of the Second Circle, and I am your superior.” Regent Sturbridge crossed her arms, her voice growing grave. “Know your place in the pyramid, child. If you want to ascend, then you need to focus—work on your studies, and most importantly, do as you are told. Do I make myself clear?”

Asha felt a void open in her dead heart. She knew the Regent was right, but the one part of the pyramid that she had the most trouble accepting was that individual members were expendable. Ever since that first night when Stefan had died in Strauss's place—an apprentice sacrificing himself for his superior—she had wondered if she would be able to do the same herself. Could she be dedicated to Clan Tremere? Yes, but was she willing to die for the clan?

Either way, she felt that leaving Michelle to die was a waste, but as Regent Sturbridge had said, it was not her place to break the rules set by her superior.

“Yes, Regent,” Asha murmured, her head bowed. “But... I won't apologize for saving Michelle.”

Aisling remained silent for a while, studying the novice standing before her.

“Okay, then,” she said finally, her voice strangely soft. “That is fine, but you are now responsible for her.”

Asha's posture stiffened, her head snapping upward as she met the Regent's eyes.

“What?” she whispered.

“You are now responsible for the novice's well being. You will guard her, watch over her. If she gets into any trouble, you will be held culpable.”

“I—”

“Furthermore,” Aisling continued, “You are both now on probation and are to be confined to the novice's quarters, the refectory, and the library.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as I deem necessary, and remember, if Michelle wanders where she shouldn't, you will be held accountable.” The Regent's eyes darkened, her voice growing in intensity. “Your 'good deed' is your burden to bear, Novicia.”

Asha spent her nights trying to stay out of the Regent's way, focusing on her studies, and looking after Michelle. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to work out as intended, no matter how hard she tried. As more apprentices dropped dead and disappeared, Asha realized that Sturbridge had started to follow her, peeking at her from around corners as she walked through the chantry halls, standing in the doorway, staring at her as she studied in the library, feeding at the same time as her in the refectory. Everywhere she went, in some dark corner, the Regent waited and watched.

And then, one night, Sturbridge became distracted—and that is when Michelle died.

“I didn't do it! I swear, Regent, I didn't do it!” Asha cried. The Regent had backed her into a corner, ranting and raving, her face a mask of paranoia and hysteria.

“I know it's you! It has to be you! You've always been trouble!” Sturbridge closed in on her, pointing an accusatory finger.

“I didn't do it!”

“You're responsible!”

“No!” Asha pushed past her, running through the winding halls and out the door. Out into enemy territory. It couldn't be any worse than the chantry, she thought.

Three nights later, after a fated reunion with a good friend, she returned to find the chantry empty. Nothing except bones and dust... and a winding staircase that led deep down underneath the earth.

[xenolinguistics-department]

gideon the ninth but instead of lyctoral trials they are competing in four weddings, and Ortus cancels last minute so Gideon has to stand in for the groom. does anyone see my vision...

[solomams]

Random Mammon x Solomon Headcanons

Because I am insane about them <3 I wrote most of these down on a piece of paper at work the other day

✧✧✧

Mammon who won’t ask Solomon for help with debts because he doesn’t want Solomon to think that’s all he wants from him

Mammon who notices the witches call for him less and/or are nicer to him after he gets together with Solomon (and if it happened after the night he came home in near tears and exhausted? Well that’s just a coincidence.)

Solomon who won’t give Mammon money to pay back his debts, but instead gives him opportunities to earn it

-Helping out with experiments

-Ritual calculations

-Accompanying him to the human world/running errands

-Playing cards together (their favorite)

They get together at least every other week to play cards together, even before they started dating. It’s usually money on the line, though sometimes it’s favors or help with studies

The first round will almost always end in a tie, and their games can go for hours because they both have so much fun and find the challenge enjoyable

When Mammon is losing, he likes to pull a “winner takes all” for the final round. This only works half the time

They both know each other so well that they will change the rules, or alter the deck to make it more interesting. Like removing a certain shape or adding another deck entirely

The first time Solomon and Mammon teamed up together during a game night, everyone was shocked at how well they worked together

Solomon proposed during Demonopoly once and Mammon almost passed out. His face was red the rest of the round- But they won by a landslide together

Date nights for them are usually dinner together

-Mammon has a fund set aside specifically for date nights so they can eat out

-Some nights when they’re both either busy or exhausted, they’ll heat up cup noodles and stay in together to watch a movie. Mammon says he’s the only one allowed to cook the noodles on these nights because he makes them best. No other reason...

-Usually these date nights are held at the HOL because Mammon has that projector in his room. They take turns picking movies

-And if Solomon chooses a horror movie so Mammon clings to him? Who’s to blame him?

-Sometimes when they want a little more privacy, they’ll order take out or pack a picnic and Mammon will drive up to a cliff side so they can look at the stars together

-They sit on the hood of the car to eat. Mammon has taken to keeping a spare blanket in his trunk so they can lay down and star gaze together

-Mammon will point at a random spot in the sky and ask if there’s a constellation there. Solomon will nudge his hand in the correct direction if needed, and explain the constellation. Mammon finds it endearing to listen to

Solomon is usually the big spoon when they cuddle or sleep together

If Mammon falls asleep around Solomon while he’s busy, Solomon will use his cape/cloak as a blanket to cover Mammon

When Mammon is the big spoon, he will partially shift into his demon form to wrap his wings around Solomon

They each have a photo of each other in their wallets

-Polaroid cameras blew up in the Devildom shortly after they made a comeback in the human world. Asmo joined in on this trend, and took photos of his brothers and friends

-He gave Solomon and Mammon photos of each other respectively

-Solomon’s is one of him laughing after an experiment went wrong

-Mammon’s is one of him crouching and doting on a crow

If Mammon is really busy with working shifts, Solomon will visit him at work

-Solomon will pretend to be a stranger sometimes and flirts with Mammon (as if they aren’t already together)

-This makes Mammon flustered, but after the first few times, he starts to flirt back to see how far he can push it

-Solomon almost always stays until the end of Mammon’s shift to walk him home, even if it’s hours long

Solomon has also tagged along to Mammon’s modeling gigs. These are the shoots where Mammon seems to be the most confident once the photos are published

Solomon always buys a copy if Mammon is featured, keeping them tucked in a corner of his bookshelf

Mammon has snuck over to Purgatory Hall when he misses Solomon. He’ll fly up to Solomon’s balcony and knock until he’s let in. He tried to pick the lock the first time he did this, and was met with a very powerful ward. So he doesn’t do that anymore

Little D. No 2 once reffered to Solomon as “Step Papa” and Mammon lost his shit

Solomon, red-faced and laughing, had to hold Mammon back

✧✧✧

Okay this became longer than I intended. HAHA SORRY THEY'RE JUST ALWAYS ON MY MIND. Feel free to yap about them to me. Maybe then I'll finally finish my solomams songfic.

[austin-friars]

'poem about bishop getting railed' OH MY GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH. YOUR WORDS. YOUR WORDS. I love religious guilt and religion-influenced poems so much....PSOJDGPDOSJGHXSD thank you so much for answering my prompt❤️ You fed me enough for 100 years, but let's see:...'Deicide' maybe?

Thank you so much <3. Yes, I have such a thing for catholic religious imagery/religious figures in my works. Especially dripping an extra level of queerness and erotica; that adds to the guilt and confusion, but eventually an interesting type of love. it's why im really into catholic priests/protestants during like...the reformation or whatever or even before with the lollards. drama ensues. And you are so welcome, thank you for sending it. That said, I hope you don't mind if I make this one a prose - it's actually taken from one of my works! This is a little nsfw. But not too much.

Decide - come to a resolution in the mind as a result of consideration.

Hope you enjoyed! And I am always open to make more poetry based off of a one word prompt <3.

[greypetrel]

Inquisitor as Companion Tag Game

Rules: For the categories below, describe or list the greetings your Inquisitor (as a companion) would say when approached by the PC

Thank you so much for the tag, @shivunin @star--nymph and @idolsgf! <3 Just back home and quite tired, so it's one for both... I may do Radha (or anyone else in other games, tell me) as well, but if it'll strike my fancy I'll tag you both again.

I swear the idea of companion!Aisling moving through Skyhold was something I was caressing before, I'm writing her companion piece since forever ahahahahahah but I join the trend gladly, it's such a fun idea. :3 All under cut because... It long.

Tagging: @inanshalla @noobsydraws @ndostairlyrium @inquisimer @chanafehs @dreadfutures @dungeons-and-dragon-age @cao-the-dreamer @rowanisawriter @saltyowlets @diesvitae @hollytree33 and YOU READING

Aisling Lavellan

Cold/Hostile (-75 to -5):

At low approval, she’ll be mainly found in the Gardens, Solas’ rotunda either perched on top of the scaffolding, or sitting in a corner as Solas is painting, or the Herald’s Rest close to Cole. Depending on the advancement of the game, she’ll be conversing with Solas or Cole always in elvish. In the Garden, she’s either chatting with Elan Ve’mal about gardening, about how many of the vases to dedicate to Elfroot if the garden was upgraded as a Herb garden, or complaining that the statue of Andraste “makes the elfroot and the embrium gloomy” otherwise. Later on, she’ll also be found chatting with Morrigan about history and lore, asking her to tell her stories about the Blight or what ruins she found in her travels – very eagerly, or teaching Kieran some magic. If you interact with her, there’ll be an extra dialogue line in which the Inquisitor will ask her what she was talking about. If cold or hostile, she’ll always dismiss the question, perfectly politely, saying it’s something too trivial to concern such an important figure, she’s sure. In greetings and goodbyes and conversations, she keeps polite and gentle, but terribly cold. If you ask her anything personal, she’ll deflect every single question by making another. Insisting on asking leads to disapproval.

Greetings:

Andaran atish’an, lord/lady Inquisitor (-25 to -5)/Herald (-75 to -26).

It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?

Oh? What brings you here?

What would his/her lordship/ladyship wish from me?

Whatever may a humble elf help you with?

Farewells:

Dareth shiral, my lord/lady.

May the Creators bless you.

I hope you found what you were looking for.

May Mythal bless you with a clear mind in judgement.

Thank you for your time.

May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent.

Note: she’ll call you Inquisitor above -25 of approval. Under that, it will always be Herald, and the references and casual naming of her gods will happen more often.

Neutral/Warm (-5 to 74):

At this point, other than the places above, she can be found also in the library, in Dorian’s nook discussing with him of magic, planning something… Unorthodox on a various degree of concerning (from making rain in the rotunda, to evaporate Solas’ colours in a puff of smoke to see if it still stains, to revive dead horses, to see after What Pride Has Wrought if they can build an eluvian on their own), or teaching each other their own language. The advisors will express concerns about their experiments at the War Table (Josie will be worried about the opinion of Orlais, Leliana will be amused by it, Cullen will begrudgingly say that they can’t be contained, but don’t seem to have any evil intention. All will agree that they contributed in making the life in the Keep better, anyway). Or at the stables, petting the horses and cooing at them. She named them all with names of food, Master Dennet and her keep bickering about how to name horses, and that “Chicken Nugget” isn’t really a name, even if her horse has a spot of that exact shape. Any question concerning her feelings or personal history beside “I am the First of Clan Lavellan” will see her changing the topic after giving the very minimum of an answer.

Greetings:

Andaran atish’an.

It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? The flowers are in bloom, and the garden smells so nice. - If the Herb Garden upgrade was chosen: The *name of the plant you planted* you potted is ready to be picked. You should hurry, wouldn’t want to be left with no potions on the field, right? - If the Chantry Garden upgrade was chosen: All those statues make the elfroot gloomy. But the blooming Crystal Grace is so delightful it makes even Andraste look happier, have you seen it? - Both options ends up with a: Oh, I’m sorry if I digress so! What is it?

What may I help you with?

Fancy seeing you here! Tell me everything.

Did you know that horses- Oh, it matters not, I’m sure.

Farewells:

Dareth shiral.

May you find what you’re looking for.

Have the nicest of days.

Take care.

Don’t forget to eat!

Friendly (75 to 125):

She’ll add the Herald’s Rest, in Sera’s nook with biscuits, tea and a full lemon custard pie the cook may or may not have been lamenting the mysterious disappearance of. They’re giggling together. If found with Cole, she’ll openly be sad about the discussion she was having with him. Or she can be found between the Iron Bull and Krem, discussing about today’s sparring round with the Chargers – The Iron Bull will comment that it’s weird for a mage to learn swordsmanship, but that she’s not a lost cause. Personal questions will be answered with shy but finally true answers, no deflection, no turning the topic on something else.

Greetings:

Oh, it’s you! Hi! *hugs the Inquisitor*

Aneth ara, lethallin/lethallan! (if elf)

Aneth ara! It’s a more friendly greeting, I hope you don’t mind. (if not elf)

I was just wondering whether we can- Oh, forgive me, I digress. Hello!

Have you read Varric’s latest book? The magic made no sense, I loved it. You should read it, it was so fun!

Is everything all right? It doesn’t look all right. What happened? Do you want to talk? Do you want a hug? I can hug you if you’d like. You look like you need it. Or I can listen, if you want to talk.

I was just hoping you stopped by!

Hello! Care for a snack? Have you eaten today? You should eat some more, too many worries make you famished, and you sure are worried a lot. Here, take a biscuit, I swear the baker made it, not me.

What did you dream of, last night? I had the weirdest dream, there were a talking lightning bolt, an octopus who loved to dance the tango, and a carnivore elfroot. But it couldn’t be, carnivore elfroot? No way. Oh, I’m sorry, were you saying…?

Farewells:

Oh, already? But sure you must be busy, I’m sorry if I bothered you.

Stop by any time!

Dareth shiral, lethallin/lethallan

I hope the day will be lovely and with the least amount of world-ending emergencies.

Take care, ok? I’m here for you if you need anything. Really. I know leading it’s difficult, if in such a smaller scale.

See you later, alligator! / Bye bye, crocodile! *and SO many variants*

Bye! *hugs the Inquisitor*

If flirted with, before romance is locked in:

Any race or gender can start a romance with her. Male Inquisitors tho won’t have any different greeting or farewell than the Friendly one. You’ll still be able to choose flirty options, but she’ll never get it. After three flirty dialogue options, you’ll get the cutscene to lock her romance, same as Female Inquisitors, and greetings and farewells will change accordingly. For Female Inquisitors, she’ll notice the flirting after the second flirty option, and change the greetings accordingly.

Greetings:

Oh! Oh it’s you! How lovely to see you! I was just- But surely you’re not interested. Or maybe you are? Are you? If you are we could- I’m sorry. Let me start again. Good morning. How are you? Did you sleep well and enjoy your breakfast? There, all better.

*giggles*

I was just thinking about you! Tell me everything and then some, please, you have such a lovely voice.

Do you want to pet my horse? I just washed him and he’s all clean and soft. If he didn’t roll in mud again, which- Uh, that didn’t came out the way I wanted. Let me start- You sure are busy. I’m sorry. Tell me everything.

I was just hoping you’d stop by! Here, I kept this pastry just for you. I know it’s your favourite and it was the last one, I took it before that silly Comte could eat it. Don’t worry, I used a tiny spell to keep it fresh, you can also eat it later.

Farewells:

Dareth shiral, lethallin/lethallan. *in a softer, sweeter voice*

Already? Aaw. I wish you had more free time, but thank you for spending the little you have with me, it really makes me glad.

I hope I’ll see you soon. This evening at the tavern, maybe?

I- Uh- Bye, sure, but… Uhm. Can I… Can I hug you? A dialogue wheel opens, where you can say yes or no. If you agree, she’ll hug you, and drag it further than necessary, with a deep sigh. Thank you.

After romance is locked in:

You’ll find her in your quarters, humming between herself.

Greetings:

Oh it’s you! I just made this flower crown for you! Here, take it! Please! I used your favourite flowers, I remember you told me. And… Yeah, well, I put something else too, so it reminds you of me as well. I enchanted it so it won’t wither and… Well, it’ll protect you, I hope you don’t mind. Inquisitor gains Elfroot Blessing, equip in helmet slot. It appears like a crown of elfroot leaves, tiny blue forget-me-nots and the flower you chose as your favourite in a precedent dialogue wheel (pre-romance). All healing poultices are more effective by the 25%, and you gather +1 in automatic when picking elfroot.

Venhan! *she pounces at you in a hug* Mwah! *a distinct noise of a real kiss after the fake one*

Hello, gorgeous!

You’re even prettier than a horse, has anyone ever told you?

Hello, ma venhan. How are you? Are you feeling well? Do you need a pause? We can take a pause, come one, sit with me.

I was just about to come and drag you away for lunch!

At last you’re here, I’ve missed you so!

I was thinking… No, I’m not planning of turning your windows in prisms so your room is filled with rainbows again, don’t worry. Even if it was such a nice idea, Dorian and I could have done it in- Ok, ok, no. You’re so cute when you’re grumpy! *giggles*

Oh! Just in time: they’re starting this little thing at the Herald’s Rest and I was just thinking that it would be lovely to go together! We could dance, maybe? What about it? It will be fun! I can teach you if you don’t know how to, don’t worry, it’s easy as breathing.

Farewells:

Take care, venhan, really. I know you’re about to complain but… Let me worry about you, ok?

I’m so proud of you and all you’re doing.

Ar lath ma, venhan.

First time, if Inquisitor is an elf: … Too soon? It’s too soon, isn’t it? Well…

First time, if Inquisitor isn’t an elf: I’ll tell you what it means the next time.

*kisses the Inquisitor* I’ll miss you.

Don’t let those silly Comtes and Dukes get to your head, ok?

I’m here when you need me. Always.

Go get them, tiger.

[jon-snows-man-bun]

Excuse me… azrisling threesome?!?! And you want me to just go about my day knowing this exists 😭

For YOU 🫵 an (unedited) snippet

So incredibly NSFW 18+ ahead. I write this when I want to remind myself that azriel is first and foremost a voyeur and a perv, and when I’m working out character dynamics

“Good females get their cunts licked,” Eris was saying to her. They were ignoring Azriel, like he lived to serve at their pleasure - like his cock wasn’t desperately hard, and he was almost certain he could feel it throb in time with his heart.

Aisling was feeling playful. He remembered that, how she’d tease with claws. It had made him frosty and put him on edge but Eris loved it, guessing by the dark gleam in his voice.

“What do bad females get?” Aisling asked sweetly, as if she wasn’t currently riding Azriel’s face. She was doing a good job holding herself together, she only sounded a little breathy - was he that out of practice? Or did Eris spend every night with his head between her legs? Azriel redoubled his efforts.

“Bad females get Illyrian cock up their ass,” Eris crooned, and there was a messy wet noise - fuck he wanted to see. His cock throbbed, left painfully hard and wanting while Eris keyed up his mate; the drip of drool on his chest and the glorious sound of female gagging and sucking let him know Eris was fucking her throat at a good pace.

Azriel groaned into her cunt.

“That’s it,” Eris was praising her, her hips stuttering and grinding down on Azriel, uncaring if he could breathe. Eris had her spoiled. He’d get his own back, once Eris was done putting her through her paces. He’d do whatever the princeling asked in exchange for splitting her around his cock. Perhaps Eris would stay at her other end, and he could watch her gag on her mate’s cock - long, not quite as thick as his own, but with a slight upward curve that must rub against Aisling’s insides and be the reason she got a lust-fogged look as soon as Eris’ hands were on his belt -

Azriel twitched suddenly, violently, as he felt warm, elegant fingers trail over his hips, tauntingly close to his throbbing, aching cock.

“Easy.” He could hear the smirk in Eris’ voice as Aisling was nearly unseated from his face, but then Eris’ hands were pushing his legs up and spreading him wide -

Azriel’s wings flared violently as he felt the insistent press of Eris’ cockhead.