#at the VERY LEAST they should have made the horns real

[frozenartscapes]

I changed her design in fics I’ve written for Hegie to the point that I’ll see the actual canon version and get confused

Hegemon Husk is probably the most boring design for corrupted Edelgard monster. They don’t take advantage of her horns, hair, color scheme, axe, flame emperor outfit, etc. You could put any character inside this rusty EVA suit and they’d fit

.

[bamfkeeper]

Kurt's instincts are still flaring...you know just how to help. 18+ under the cut. MDNI.

Sorta unofficial part two to my last Nightcrawler fic. That was originally going to be nsfw, but I decided against it because I have other nsfw pieces in the works. So this is sort of the smut version of that one. I'm glad I'm not the only one who wants to grab his horns.

Warnings: Afab reader, cunnilingus, unprotected, slightly rougher sex, marking, slight cum play? Unedited.

WC: 2.4k

Kurt had been quiet for a while.

After he had let out the 'darkness' within him, he just didn't feel like himself anymore. He was constantly battling his own mind, his very being, and it was utterly exhausting. Every day felt like a struggle that required all his energy. His mind flashed with the bodies of the fallen soldiers he had killed, their lifeless forms haunting his thoughts, and he often had trouble resting after those vivid, torturous memories resurfaced.

You tried your best to help him, to reassure and comfort him in every way you could think of, but you could only do so much for him. Despite all your efforts, some things couldn't be healed with mere reassurance. The act was done, and the scar was made, etched deeply into his soul. The emotional wounds were too profound, and words of comfort could only provide temporary relief from the pain he endured.

This was when he began to think...maybe it was better to let the darkness out. The pain of it all lessened when he did.

You were sitting with him in the privacy of your bedroom, where the soft glow of the evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue on everything. He sat behind you, his presence comforting as he leaned into your smaller form, providing a sense of security and closeness that you both cherished. He let out a quiet sigh, a sound so simple and quiet spoke volumes about the weight of his thoughts and the whirlwind of events that had been unfolding around him.

You noticed his somber mood and the lines of worry etched on his face, so you decided that perhaps a nap would help to relax him and ease his troubled mind. Sleep, you thought, was a temporary escape from reality, a gentle reprieve that could offer solace. You knew that it would at least give him a brief rest from his racing mind, a momentary pause in the chaos, allowing him to regain some peace and composure.

"I'm going to change real quick, I think we should take a nap. The afternoon has been quiet." You sat up a little and stood from the bed, slowly undressing and walking over to the closet. His golden eyes glued to your figure and he growled softly, the sound escaping his throat without him realizing it.

You were so engrossed in finding your favorite silk top among the myriad of clothes that you didn't notice his approach at all. Kurt was incredibly sneaky and had perfected the art of moving silently. He had learned to have a light foot during his years in the circus, where he would often sneak around in the dead of night, scavenging for scraps and bits of food. He had to be extremely careful not to wake the slumbering animals or disturb the watchful owner. The skills he honed in the circus allowed him to move like a shadow, almost undetectable.

It wasn't until he was directly behind you that you became aware of his presence. You felt his breath on your neck, startling you. His breath was hot and heavy, and you could feel it against your skin. His lips were slightly parted as if he was about to speak, but instead, he let out a deep, primal growl that sent shivers down your spine.

You turned to look up at him, his golden eyes shining dimly in the room as he grabbed hold of your hips. "Liebe..." he nearly snarled at you, his body trembled with screaming desire. He didn't want to hurt you, oh god, he didn't want to hurt you. But you looked so vulnerable right now, topless and the only protection from being completely nude was the thin layer of fabric you wore over your sex.

He knelt down slowly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of confusion and vulnerability. "I cannot explain what is happening..." he whispered quietly, his voice barely audible. The weight of his words hung in the air, creating a tense silence between you both. After a pause, you found the courage to speak up, breaking the stillness.

"Bad thoughts?" you asked gently, trying to understand what he was going through.

"Nein...good ones. With you...but...they are more intense than they ever have been," he whispered with a shaky voice, his emotions clearly overwhelming him. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the conflict between his feelings and the inability to comprehend them fully. You could tell he was having trouble saying it, so you sat back and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Show me what you mean." Your words and smile was all he needed to continue. His hands rubbed up your bare thighs and he ripped off your panties. The sudden tearing against your skin burned slightly, however you weren't given a moment to register the burn before his lips wrapped around the area. He kissed and suckled harsh marks where your skin was irritated from the fabric ripping. You moaned softly, your hand running through his curly locks and you watched him kiss and soothe the areas whilst leaving dark hickeys around your hips where your panties would sit.

He growled and bit the area below your belly button, that delicious, plush area that he loved so much, he kneaded and nipped it with his teeth while leaving a trail of purple marks in his wake. You watched as he marked you up, more and more started appearing on your skin and you couldn't help but moan with each one he planted.

"I cannot help myself any longer...these thoughts, I feel like they are consuming me." he rasped against your bruised skin, his yellow eyes almost looked more orange now, half lidded and heavy with lust in them. "I do not want to hurt you..." he muttered, his gaze traveling down further as he looked at your exposed sex.

He pressed his nose against your folds, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent, your obvious arousal filled his senses and his eyes shot back open. Claws held your plush hips, spreading your legs.

"Kurt..." you whispered, your words losing themselves behind the surprised groan that tore through you, his tongue lapped a strip up your slit as he trailed to your clit. His lips wrapped around your bud and he sucked hard on it. "Oh, god..." your voice wavered as your hands naturally went to his hair.

Your hands felt his curls, those dark locks that you adored, you curled your fingers around them and felt his silky hair when you felt his horns. You couldn't help but gently wrap your fingers around the horns and feel them a little more. You hadn't actually touched them much before, he didn't want you to. But now he didn't seem to care, too busy devouring your core and making your legs tremble.

Your hands gripped his horns, and his eyes widened. He clawed your hips, lifting you off the ground and diving further into your cunt, his tongue pushing inside as he ate you out. His tongue moved so expertly, dipping inside your wet hole and dragging your hot arousal up and over that pretty clit of yours.

His vigorous laps and suckles increased as you drug his head closer by his horns, panting and mewling like a poor bitch in heat. His claws held you tightly, growling against your slick sex as he pulled you away from the wall and threw you down on the bed.

Kurt crawled over you, looking more wild than you had ever seen. He drooled as he forced your legs open, his claws gently digging into the plush flesh of your thighs, and he dove back down, completely encompassed in your cunt and entranced by it. Your hands went to his horns again, groaning as he soaked your pussy with his saliva and eager tongue lashing.

You could barely hold back the cry as your orgasm hit you. It was intense, and your back arched off the bed, your hands gripped his horns in a vice and you tugged him even closer if that were possible. "Kurt!! Aah!" You stuttered out some rambling words about your climax, unable to get out a solid sentence. He could tell you came, your cunt soaked the sheets and his tongue, such the eager mutant he was lapped all of your up as you creamed for him.

He pulled back, strings of your cum and his saliva keeping him attached to you before breaking off. His goatee completely soaked, and his eyes dark with desire. "Worn out already, schatz?" Kurt's voice was almost deeper than normal, making your spine stiffen. "I'm not done with you...I...need...more." he grunted, his eyes closing briefly like he were at conflict with himself.

You sat up slightly, noticing this change in his demeanor. "Hey...I-I'm okay, just intense, is all..." you reassured him quietly, trying to offer some comfort and support. "I'm good...do you need to let it out?" you asked, your voice gentle and encouraging.

He nodded vigorously, clearly agreeing with you, but it was evident that he was still holding back his emotions. There was a tension in his expression, a struggle to contain whatever he was feeling inside. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his body was tense despite his nodding. It was clear that he needed to release whatever was weighing on him, but something was stopping him from doing so.

He was deeply scared of hurting you, a fear that gnawed at him constantly. He hadn't been so... forward... like this before, and the unfamiliarity of the situation only added to his anxiety. But he couldn't help it. Something primal and intense inside him screamed, clawing at his very skin, urging him to pounce on you.

This internal battle was relentless, and he found himself struggling more each day to keep it at bay, and you had noticed. Despite his best efforts to contain himself, the urge grew stronger and more overpowering with every passing moment. He looked down at you, how your breasts rose and fell with each breath, your pussy ingrained in his nose, that beautiful scent of your arousal...

He couldn't do it anymore.

Kurt crawled over you, his hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked you closer, his now unclothed cock hitting your pussy and he rubbed himself eagerly against you, slickening his shaft so the penetration would be easier on the both of you. However, his foreplay didn't last long, his body too eager and impatient now.

His hips jut forward, his cock sinking inside you in one swift thrust. You cried out in surprise, but he didn't give you a moment of reprieve before he began to thrust hard and fast.

He curled over you, his arms holding your hips up as his cock dove in and out of your cunt, his tail tightened around your body, expertly wrapping around those pretty breasts he loved. "Mine..." he growled deeply, his voice resonating with a possessive intensity. The word was almost lost within the animalistic snarl that erupted from his throat, a primal sound that echoed through the room.

You couldn't do anything but whine and let out mindless babbling as he fucked you into the mattress. You could barely think, the way he was fucking you drove you crazy and you could do nothing but watch him pound into you. He had never been this intense before, and you weren't complaining, of course. His new passion and possessiveness awakened something deep inside you, bringing a desperate mix of arousal and pure need.

"I-I'm going to...cum again..." you managed through your moans, his cock driving against your cervix, most definitely bruised by now, his precum coating it in a soothing balm. It was making you feel more eager for his cum, more addicted to how good he made you feel. You began to want his cock in you constantly, like his precum was some sort of aphrodisiac to your body's own primal instincts.

"Do it, liebling...I want you all over me...let me feel your pleasure." He snarled into your ear, his thrusts quickened as his mischevious tail spade slithered down and rubbed your swollen bud. You watched as he threw your legs over his shoulders and moved over you more, driving down into you over and over until your body felt like it exploded.

You screamed in pure ecstasy, your swollen sex clung to him and practically milked his cock as you creamed all over his dick. He bared his fangs and sunk them into you neck as he shot his load into you, his hips snapping forward once more and driving himself as far as he could possibly go. His cock's spongy head pressed a kiss to your cervix and shot directly into your womb.

Kurt held you tight for several minutes, the both of you a panting, sweaty mess. When he finally let go of you, he pulled out of your warm cunt, hissing slightly at the cruel harshness of the bedroom air. It didn't compare to your comforting, velvet walls. He grumbled in disappointment, still foggy with those desires and not completely himself just yet. You could see it in his eyes, the confusion as he wasn't all there.

You sighed, feeling his cum begin to pool out onto the bed and you whined, you always tried to prevent that. Your hand reached up, scratching his scalp before you gripped one of his horns, tugging him down. "Baby...look what you did...I'm a mess." Your voice whined gently, "See?"

You spread your cunt, letting him see how his cum was absolutely everywhere between your legs. His dark eyes completely focused on your core as he let out deep, yet sharp breaths. Your hand, still holding one of his horns, guided his head down to your pussy. "Clean me up...won't you? It's only fair..."

Kurt's eyes glanced up before he bit your inner thigh, licking up your skin before he dove right back into you, his tongue cleaning all of himself from you...and some. But this only started the cycle all over again...and soon he was on top of you. Even still...there was nothing to complain about.

When his little rut was over, he curled around you, your body a trembling mess and you were full of so many loads of his cum you forgot to count. At one point he didn't even stop thrusting, he just kept going until he physically couldn't anymore. He laid with his body gently wrapped around yours, holding you close with a tenderness that contrasted his previous fucking. His face was buried in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent that filled his senses with pure bliss.

In that moment, he was completely content. The loud, uncomfortable scratching at his soul, which had been a new torment to him since his horns appeared, was now gone. It had been quieted down and soothed by the mere presence of you, your warmth, and the tranquility you brought to his life.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Sins of Sinister: Dominion 001 (2023); Immortal X-Men #9 (2023); Legion of X #7 (2023)

If you want to be part of my tag list, please leave a 💙.

[the-ancient-dragons]

EXTRA OVERCOMPLICATED ICEWIIIIINGS

You know how it goes, Joy Ang is cool and I'm not yadda yadda move on.

Details and explanation below!

Otherwise, next week is the last Pyrrhian tribe: NightWings!!!! See you then!

More overcomplicated dragons.

If the RainWings are the design that destroys Joy's work the least, this one takes the original IceWings and tosses them out the window. Going into this design I knew it would be hard, but boy was I unprepared to get art block for 2 months because of it.

I eventually found my inspiration in the girdled, spiny, and horned lizards, They. Are. So. Freaking cool. If you think a crocodile skink is awesome, look up girdled lizards. Not as fancy with the eyeliner but they are SPIKY!

I fell in love in particular with the giant girdled lizard. I knew I wanted the scales of the IceWing to look rough and like they were made of actual ice or diamonds - or covered in frozen sleet and snow - and this lizard was basically perfect inspo for that. Also, blue spiny lizards. They are basically real life IceWings, full stop.

But even though I had perfect references to draw from, I still struggled with the head shape. I wanted them to feel like a reptilian polar bear, which is why I slightly blunted it, but I think I should have gone with a more angular shape instead. I can always change it later when I do their full-body.

I did have a very fun time with the horns, however. I wanted them to be a mix of narwhal teeth and icicles (yes, narwhal 'horns' are actually overgrown teeth. One tooth, usually, but sometimes they can have two!!). Before I get distracted I should explain how they grow: the scales at the base of the horn are constantly growing and essentially create the horn. That's what gives them their narwhal-like spirals.

I chose a similar approach to the neck spikes (untangling that mess was fun, let me tell you. Grids are very useful when doing many scales/spikes). At the base of each one you'll notice a scale forming it. On the back, I wanted to give a good side profile of the spikes. Technically, they are ever-growing, and need to be trimmed or sharpened constantly.

Now, as I was drawing them, I asked myself: why do IceWings need a mane of spikes?

A stupid question, you might wonder, but to me it's very important. Animals look the way they do for survival. So, while it's important visually for the ice theme, how could they be explained scientifically?

And then, when thinking of polar bears, I got my answer.

How the hell does a giant sparkly dragon hunt in the north? Seals would probably be part of their diet, but it's hard to sneak up on them if you're a ten ton reptilian flying creature, so I imagine they would tackle the problem like a polar bear would by waiting by a breathing hole and pouncing at the right moment. They already look like a frozen snowbank, so that part is easy.

But any hungry polar bear would be doing the same thing, and like a giant dragon, they would be waiting downwind of the breathing hole too. They wouldn't pose a threat to adult dragons or dragonets larger than them, but in real life polar bears are dangerous hunters and prey on humans. Why wouldn't it prey on a dragonet it thinks it can take on? Things in the WOF universe seem to be extra big (or scavengers/humans are tiny) so I think it would be a feasible for a desperate bear to hunt a dragon. They cannibalize, anyway, so going after another apex predator isn't out of the question. In this case, the horns and neck spikes would be a dragonet's saving grace, discouraging attacks from behind and especially on their necks. A bear's teeth could never get through their scales, but they could still crush their airways and choke them, and the spikes would keep them away from their necks and protect them from that fate. As they grow up, the neck spikes' length and strength could be used to determine a dragon's health and help them select good partners.

Finally, continuing with the bear theme: for the scales, I took inspiration from polar bear fur (which is actually hollow) to help design how IceWings preserve their body heat. In polar bears, its used to make them look white by reflecting the light of the sun, but in IceWings it could keep the cold out. Air pockets would create a barrier between them and the outside elements, and whatever gets in would meet their thick layer of fat that does the real warming. Yes, IceWings would be squishy, but you'd probably poke your eye out or stick permanently to their side a la tongue to cold metal pole.

Don't hug IceWings; they're very cold.

[underdark-dreams]

I would like to request something soft and sweet. Years after saving the Gate and having moved in with Rolan, Cal, and Lia, Tav is enjoying the day reading/admiring Rolan as he works, and then either a) Tav asks Rolan to marry them or b) Rolan asks Tav to marry him.

Thank you 💕💕

Rolan x fem!Tav

More

Was it wrong to feel selfish about the person you loved? Rolan and Tav finally get a night alone at the Tower to talk about what each of them wants.

Tags: Romantic Fluff, Mild Angst, Marriage Proposals | SFW

Word Count: 4,316 [Read on AO3]

“All right, all right. Three harpies at once, no weapons. How do you win?”

“Do they have the high ground?”

From the settee by the fire, Lia pointed down at her little brother as though he’d brought up a key point. “You’re on even terrain.”

“Right, this one’s easy.” Cal settled back comfortably against the rug with hands clasped behind his head. “I start yelling loud enough that I can’t hear the harpy song. Then, I charge at whichever one’s singing loudest and knock the wind out of them with my horns, and then, you know." He waved a hand around vaguely. "Rough 'em up."

“So fucking stupid—” Lia fell sideways in her seat, clutching her side with laughter.

“I keep telling you, you’re always forgetting about the horns.” Cal jabbed a finger at his forehead. “Natural advantage, Lia, you should know this by now.”

The absurd conversation was impossible to block out, but Rolan made an attempt as he bent over his desk. Behind him, he felt Tav's chest reverberating with laughter at his siblings. 

She was in one of her affectionate moods tonight. She'd drawn up a chair behind his in order to rest her cheek against his back, one wrist draped loosely over his shoulder. 

Rolan didn't mind the closeness—he never did from her. But between her warmth and his siblings' ridiculous game of what-if, he'd barely written one paragraph in the past ten minutes. He finally gave up and set aside his quill.

Tav shifted slightly on his shoulder. "How's Gale?" She asked, perhaps feeling guilty about interrupting his concentration. 

“He’s well. His new class has a few with real promise, according to Tara.”

"I can't believe Tara likes you more than me," she mumbled suddenly against his back. "I met her first."

Her petulant tone made his mouth twitch into a smile. He would’ve turned to kiss her if they were alone. Instead, Rolan only pressed his lips to the hand draped over his shoulder. "Tressyms know a good wizard when they see one, dearest."

“Makes two of us,” she replied. The soft words ghosted across the skin on his neck, raising goosebumps under his collar.

It suddenly seemed like a very good idea to tell his siblings to get lost. Rolan was saved the necessity by a stroke of good timing. Near the fireplace, there was the soft clinking of plate armor as Lia got to her feet.

“Right, I’m off—” Lia buckled her scabbard around her waist as she rose, her shortsword tip clanking against the greaves over her shins. “Can’t be late to lead my first evening patrol.”

It had never occurred to Rolan before that Lia might end up in the Flaming Fist. He had to remind himself that the company’s reputation had improved considerably in the year since Florrick had succeeded Ulder Ravengard. Corruption and bad behavior had flourished under Gortash, but Florrick had done much to clean the Fists’ ranks of the worst—at least within the city walls. 

As he looked at her now, standing tall in her emblazoned surcoat, Rolan realized that his young sister was quite grown up. She’d earned a promotion to Gauntlet faster than any of them expected, a fact she loved to remind them of—especially Rolan. Lia took care of others the way she always had, and now she could take care of herself. The thought was somehow bittersweet in Rolan’s chest.

"Me as well," Cal chimed in from the floor. Though he only stretched arms and legs out long with a massive yawn.

“Don’t rush off,” Rolan drawled, but there was affection in it.

“Highberry’s are across the street, I got a few minutes.” Cal scrubbed his face with both hands as if to wake himself. “We got new ones at the orphanage last week, twin boys. They’re good kids, but gods, do they play hard…feel like my back’s aged about ten years…”

Lia stepped over to give him a hand up with a chuckle. “Read the room, Cal. The lovers need their alone time.”

Cal glanced around at the two in question. Tav still rested her cheek on Rolan’s shoulder with an expression of dreamy happiness, while Rolan was failing to hide a scowl. Lia knew how he hated when either of them used that word.

“Ah, right—” Cal slipped to his feet, sounding eager to be off all of a sudden. “I’ll be back after sunrise. Keep the place together while I’m gone?” He added, a fine joke considering Cal was always the one breaking things.

Rolan’s only response was to wave his quill behind him in a shooing motion. Tav called a friendly goodbye to brother and sister as they made their way down the main staircase, chatting as they went.

Once their footsteps had retreated completely, her restraint evaporated. “Thank the Gods, come here—”

Rolan barely managed to save his inkwell from overturning as she twisted to launch her torso across his lap, capturing his face in both hands for an enthusiastic kiss. His near arm gripped around her middle, no doubt leaving ink stains from his fingers against her linen shirt—he found himself unable to care about anything but the sweet taste of her lips.

They each pulled away for breath at the same moment. Tav’s grip lingered, her fingers combing back through his hair gently to clasp together at his nape.  

“Hello,” she grinned. Her eyes roamed over his face like he was everything.

Rolan’s palm brushed down her back, utterly content. “Hello.”

They took each other in like that for a long moment, just enjoying the quiet closeness. Her fingers smoothed and combed the hair back from beside Rolan’s horns needlessly—a fussy gesture that nevertheless brought a hum of contentment to his chest.

Apparently satisfied that she had him put back to sorts, Tav’s hands moved to rest on Rolan’s shoulders. “Got more work to do?”

Though she phrased it as a question, Rolan sensed she already knew the answer. He let out a reluctant sigh.

“Go on,” said Tav, not waiting for his reply. Rolan’s shoulders received a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll wait for you.”

With one last soft kiss, she slid off his lap and away. Rolan said nothing, but he instantly missed the warm weight of her against him. 

Tav retrieved her current reading from the shelves behind and curled up on the now-vacant settee near the fireplace. Though his spirit rebelled, Rolan picked up his quill again to continue writing his last few replies. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could join her. 

For a while the vaulted room settled into a quiet, echoing lull. There was the crackle of magical flame in the great stone hearth; the rhythmic scratch of ink against parchment; the faint whistle of an evening breeze out on the open balcony beyond. Periodically, he heard Tav turn another page of her book.

Before long he’d reached the final sealed envelope on the day’s pile. As Rolan stretched his hand for it, he caught sight of Tav watching him over the back of her seat.

“What?”

“Just admiring,” she sighed, eyes sparkling. “You look so handsome when you’re concentrating like that.”

Rolan’s brow wrinkled playfully at her. “Am I not usually handsome?”

“Always.”

“Hmm. You just think that because you’re in love with me,” Rolan replied curtly. He turned back to his work in an attempt to hide the way she made him smile and flush like an idiot.

“Both can be true,” she called back, not denying anything. But Rolan heard the shuffle of pages as she returned to her reading.

It took him a moment to regain concentration on his work. Rolan’s eyes reread several lines of the letter before him multiple times. But this one was truly quite important—a missive from the archwizards’ council at Blackstaff Tower. They were inquiring about his arcane research, apparently intrigued for the first time in years by his own Tower’s new ownership. He dove back in to focus on answering their questions in detail.

Half an hour and five sheets of parchment later, Rolan finally surfaced back to reality. He straightened up and promptly felt a pop in his neck from his stiff writing posture. The last light of sunset had slipped from the sky, leaving inky blackness behind each vaulted window of the cathedral-like interior.

As he rolled his aching shoulders, Rolan glanced toward Tav—only to find that the seat by the fire was empty. Rolan glanced back around the room, finding the rest of it empty as well. 

Had she given up waiting and gone up to bed? The thought disappointed him, though it opened up other possibilities. 

But Tav had told him she'd wait, and she wouldn't lie. As he rose from his desk to search for her, Rolan caught a faint metallic tap from the balcony.

Her silhouette was cast in relief against the dark sky. It was a moonless night; the pale orange glow of lamplight from the streets far below was the only light lining the edge of her figure, that and what little firelight streamed out through the highly vaulted doorway. Tav leaned on her elbows, the pewter wine glass under her fingers tapping an absent little rhythm against the stone railing. It was one of her habits when deep in thought.

Rolan allowed himself a moment to admire her. Seeing her in a quiet pose like this was one of his favorite things in all the Realms. Tav had become so many things to so many people in the short year he’d known her: hero, savior, diplomat, even rather a politician. 

But tonight, for now…she was just Tav. His Tav.

Rolan felt a pang of something like guilt in his stomach. It was by no means the first time he’d had such a feeling about her. His; possessive, controlling. It reminded him of the way he used to think before she came into his life.

For a long time, Rolan had felt a need to control the people he loved. If he didn’t, who would? Control just went hand in hand with protection. Caring for others was a luxury, and if the events of his life had taught him anything up to that point, it was that fate and misfortune were always looking for ways to separate you from what you cared about most.

And Tav had slipped so easily into the deepest depths of his heart. At first begrudgingly, resentfully…Rolan hadn’t exactly seen her as a welcome addition to their lives when they’d first met long ago on the road to Baldur’s Gate. 

Right now, it was impossible to imagine anything but love for her. 

As Rolan watched a soft breeze ruffle the ends of her hair, something uncertain bloomed inside of him. Was it wrong to feel selfish like this about the person you loved? The question hung unanswered in his chest. Rolan felt its weight there tonight, like a heavy stone dragging on his heart. 

His hand absently brushed against the small leather pouch he kept tied on his belt—there was a small clink of metal against metal from inside.

“Just going to stand there?”

Tav’s voice brought him back to reality in the most pleasant way. Rolan blinked to find that his legs had carried him forward to the arched doorway of their own volition. 

Tav stood a few strides away, watching him over her shoulder with a bemused smile. The firelight streaming out from behind him softly illuminated her features. 

In the next moment, Rolan had closed the distance to tilt her face into a kiss. Her empty cup clattered forgotten to the stone tiles at their feet. Would he ever tire of the way her arms circled around his shoulders like that? 

Rolan didn’t think it was likely—he nuzzled against her cheek as their lips parted, inhaling her familiar and comforting scent.

“What’s with you tonight?” Tav laughed, the sound breathy and soft against his collar.

“What?” Rolan protested, drawing her away slightly to examine her face. “Can’t I appreciate the woman I love?”

A happy flush rose to her cheeks, unnoticeable in the dim to someone without Rolan’s precise vision. But notice he did, just as she caught the way his golden eyes traveled over her expression. Tav pressed her face back into his shoulder as her arms squeezed tighter around him. 

“I wish we had more time,” she said against the crook of his neck.

Rolan tried to quell the instinctive panic that rose in his chest at her words. Instead, he stroked a hand over her hair. “What do you mean?”

The way she paused before answering allowed Rolan’s heart just enough time to wind up to a brisk rhythm against his ribcage. Eventually, Tav leaned back to look at him. Her expression had grown quite serious.

“I know that you—” She cut herself off, then wet her lips and began again. “Rolan, this place is your life. I’m not under any misconceptions that all this—” She tipped her head and looked sideways as if to indicate the Tower itself. “—That any of it’s going away any time soon. You know that, right?”

Her face tilted toward him with utter sincerity. Rolan found that his thoughts were forming with an odd slowness, as if swimming around his brain through something gelatinous.

“And you’ve been very understanding,” he managed to tell her. The guilt from earlier returned its grip over his chest. “More than I deserve.”

She sighed as her hand rose to his cheek. “Thank you for saying that…but you wouldn’t if you knew how often I daydream about kidnapping you away all for myself.”

Before Rolan could find a response to that, Tav had stepped back out of his grip with a soft curse.

“Damn—” She swore again, then wrung her hands with a shaky, anxious laugh. “This shouldn’t be this hard.”

Rolan still didn’t understand quite what she was saying, a sensation that he found deeply uncomfortable. It made him feel like a vessel adrift. He clasped hands behind his back to anchor himself, collecting his features into a guarded expression.

“Please,” Rolan invited her, tipping his horns to her in a way that felt awkwardly formal. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” She chewed the inside of her lip as she watched him. There was a tense pause, and then she launched in abruptly. 

“I’ve been thinking our life here in your Tower. You and me—us. And,” she added, “I’ve been thinking about your work. How much it means to you…how far you’ve come in just a year.”

Tav gave him a small smile, as if casting back to those tense and awkward times when they’d first known each other. Then her face fell again. “Sometimes it just feels like there’s something missing.”

Rolan found he had to glance away from her for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Are you unhappy?” He asked her slowly.

“What? Not at all—” Tav shook her head with vehemence. “You make me so happy, Rolan, you have no idea. It’s just that I—I’m not always satisfied,” she finished weakly. 

“I see.” Rolan kept his face very still, but his pulse beat painfully in his throat. 

She was unsatisfied with the life of an archmage’s partner. It was perfectly understandable—before she’d come to live with him, Tav traveled far and wide, sometimes leaving the city for a week to visit her far-flung companions across Faerûn and the very hells themselves. 

A life spent cooped up in a tower, no matter how grand—how could he have ever thought it would be enough for her?

Rolan’s guilty conscience was deserved. He had been too selfish with her. He wanted her safe; he wanted her here. Most of all, he wanted Tav to want to be with him.

And Rolan had been so sure that she did. Perhaps he’d let the strength of his own feelings mislead him.

Rolan was painfully aware of the silence stretching on between them. Another evening breeze stirred the air, and as it rustled through their clothing, Tav’s eyes searched his face.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

Behind his back, Rolan’s hands clenched where she couldn’t see them. Right now he was thinking of the small leather pouch that had hung from his belt for months, and the two small metal objects it contained, and the many ways he had imagined offering one of them to her. But none of those were things he should tell her now.

“Nothing,” Rolan answered aloud. “Only that I’ve been rather foolish.”

In response to that, a strange, puzzled expression passed over her face. Then her lips parted. 

“Ohhhh—” The sound rose from deep in her chest, a pained exhale. “No, Rolan, no no—”

Tav stepped to grasp his face between her hands with such speed that Rolan nearly flinched in surprise at the contact.

“I’m such an idiot,” she confessed to him. Her voice was very small all of a sudden. “I know I might not have the right to ask you, Rolan—but I don’t want less. I want more.”

Rolan’s eyes traveled back and forth between hers as if there was some hidden message he was missing there. “More?” He repeated, questioning. 

Tav nodded her head very slowly at him. “More of you. More of us.”

In the next instant it felt like the weight tangled around Rolan’s heart had snapped its line and plummeted straight down into his stomach. As he watched the firelight reflected earnestly in Tav’s eyes, realization shot up his spine like a shockwave. 

The force of his relief made his head spin. Rolan wanted to say a dozen different things to her all at once. Unfortunately, he found that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth at the moment.

Instead—in a rare moment of clarity that was all reflex and no logic—Rolan felt himself sinking to one knee in front of her.

“Why are you—” 

Tav’s eyes went wide as she followed his face down to where he landed. Her hands fell from where they’d held him to hang down limp at her sides; her chest rose and fell as if she’d run a flight of stairs.

“How can you not know by now?” 

What a terrible way to begin, he thought—yet those were the words Rolan found leaving his mouth. Trying to right his thoughts, he reached for one of her hands and took it between both his own.

“Forgive me,” Rolan blurted out. “I swear I’ve practiced this before, but—I can’t remember all the best bits just now.”

Tav shook her head at him as if punch-drunk. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she whispered hoarsely.

A nervous bark of laughter escaped him. “Have you ever known me to be burdened with an excess of humility?”

Despite the electricity now swirling between them, the corners of Tav’s mouth twitched upward. “Point taken.”

Rolan used the moment to gather himself. His tongue suddenly felt two sizes too large, and he swallowed with effort against his dry mouth.

“You’ve always done so much for me. From the first moment…every moment. You’re the reason why I have Cal and Lia, why I have everything—” Rolan’s eyes left her only for a moment to pass up over the great spire of the Tower above them. 

From his periphery, Tav opened her mouth to protest.

“Please listen,” Rolan begged her before she could speak. He wished he’d thought this through even a little; his knee was already starting to ache against the stone, but he pushed through the discomfort.

Tav’s figure froze still in response as she watched him. Only her hand shook slightly between his palms.

“You must know what you mean to me,” Rolan murmured. “You’ve given me so much more than I deserve. You’ve loved me more than anyone…better than anyone. But—” He drew her hand a bit closer to his chest. “But I’m afraid there’s one more thing I have to ask you for.”

Tav’s lips were parted in anticipation as she hung on his words. She stood so motionless it was like kneeling at the foot of a beautiful statue. Only her wide eyes moved continuously over his face, and Rolan felt he could lose himself in them completely if he gazed too long.

“Let me give you more,” he asked simply. “Let me give you everything.”

“You—you damn wizard—” 

As she broke her silence, Tav’s expression was flickering somewhere between amusement and tears. She was shaking her head at him, moisture pricking at the corners of her eyes. “If you don’t say it plain in the next—”

“Marry me.”

Though they stood under open sky, the two words seemed to echo with deafening force against his own ears. The question hung like a tangible physical thing, reverberating painfully in the narrow space between their bodies. Rolan could only grip her hand like a lifeline and wait for her to say something—anything.

Finally, Tav burst out into a laugh. 

Or was it was a sob? 

It was some strange combination of both, a choked sound of relief rising in her throat even as Rolan watched liquid suddenly spill and roll down each of her cheeks. Before he knew what was happening, Tav had also dropped to her knees in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Whatever responses Rolan had anticipated, this was one he didn’t plan for. He could only freeze and watch her cry and wait for things to make sense again.

“I don’t know,” Tav hiccoughed through the rapid tears that were streaming down her face now. Her lips trembled as her hands found his shoulders, clutching two handfuls of his robes. “I d-don’t know,” she repeated. “But I want you, Rolan.”

He had just enough hope to take that as a yes. 

Rolan folded Tav’s body into his own with near crushing force. He was now overwhelmingly grateful for their absurd position kneeling together on the cold stone of the balcony. It was unthinkable to have her anywhere but in his arms right now.

“Yes, by the way—” Tav’s voice was muffled against his shoulder, but her chest shook against him with unmistakable laughter now.

“I had plans,” Rolan answered against her hair, half to himself. “None of this is right, hells, I swear I had so many plans—”

“Hold on,” Tav replied in a trembling laugh. She pulled away gently, just enough to notch one hand under Rolan’s ear. Her face radiated joy despite the damp skin on her cheeks. “Rolan, what on earth could be wrong right now?”

Everything, he wanted to groan out. But he bit the word back. 

Instead, Rolan ducked his head to fumble with the drawstrings of the leather bag fastened to his belt. Tav’s fingers dropped from his jaw as she watched on in silent curiosity. 

He shook the open bag over his hand. With a tiny clink, two rings poured from it and out onto Rolan’s outstretched palm. Even on a moonless night, the metal seemed to glow from within with a silver-blue fire.

“Mithril,” Tav breathed in pure delight.

The observation was so unexpected, yet so thoroughly Tav, that Rolan let out a choked laugh.

She touched fingers to her lips. “How long have—when did you—?”

“The week you moved in,” Rolan answered. The way her eyes flicked up to his in pure adoration made Rolan’s heart swell in his chest, but he continued. “That’s when I gave Dammon the commission. Of course it took months to find a vein of it down in the Underdark, I nearly went mad, you have no i—”

The words were stopped up as Tav’s lips collided against his. Rolan’s fist closed over the twin metal bands just as his hand was trapped between their chests.

She kissed him so long and so hard that Rolan gasped for air a bit when she broke away.

“Do you like it?” Rolan asked, needing her answer more than his lungs needed air.

“You’re kidding me.” Tav blinked at him. “Rolan, if you don’t put that thing on my finger this fucking minute, I swear I might have to reconsider.”

He wasn’t about to chance it. Rolan slipped the band onto the finger of her outstretched hand without hesitation; it fit her perfectly. She followed suit, her hand shaking slightly with excitement as the ring slid down to his knuckle.

For a moment they just held opposite hands out beside each other in quiet admiration. Then Rolan linked his fingers with hers, pulling their palms together. 

He supposed the rings were supposed to come after the vows, not before—but the sight of them on their interlocked fingers was too perfect to be wrong.

A moment later they helped each other back to their feet, both laughing at their stiff knees and the pins-and-needles in their legs. 

Rolan felt giddy as a youth. He couldn't stop kissing her; his arms circled her firmly into him, his tail looping around and over her hips in a caress. As Rolan watched the pure happiness radiating from Tav’s face, his heart was the lightest it had ever been.

“Now what?” He asked eventually.

Tav sighed with contentment in his arms. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to take you to bed,” Rolan answered without hesitation. Words had grown tiresome; he could think of no better way to demonstrate exactly the strength of his feelings for her right now.

In response, she separated to tug his hand with both of hers back under the doorway. 

“Then we’d better go,” she said, walking backwards so she could flash him a coy smile. “Because I want my fiancé to tell me about all those ways he didn't just propose.”

[arc-misadventures]

What are those: wallow decided to go to beacon academy with winter to go see how wiess is doing but instead meet with jaune

The Dragon’s Diamond

A small bullhead flew through the air towards, Beacon Academy. It was a privately owned airship that belonged to the, Schnee Dust Company, and right now it was carrying an assortment of precious cargo: The daughter of the founder of the, SDC, Willow Schnee. Her eldest child, Winter Schnee. And a locked cased filled with diamonds of various sizes, and quality. At least what they assumed were diamonds. For they had come here to see if they were in fact real diamonds.

Winter: I’m sorry mother, but I must protest; Why did you have to come along to handle this simple endeavour; you could have simply handed over your, and my diamonds to, Klein, and let him handle it. Why did you have to come along?

Willow: I needed a vacation. This seemed like a reasonable excuse why to do so. Besides, it also gives me an excuse to be around my daughters. Is there something wrong with me desiring to be with my family my dear?

Winter: …

Winter: No, no there isn’t anything wrong with that, it’s just unexpected is all.

Willow: I understand, but being away from home also keeps me away from drinking. I’ve managed to at least reduce the amount I’ve been drinking substantially, but being around your father long enough will lead me back to drowning myself in the bottle again. I cannot allow that to happen.

Winter: I… I’m sorry, I thought you chose to leave for different reasons.

Willow: Like trying fine, Valian wines?

Winter: Ahh! Yes… Yes I thought so.

Willow: Well, depending on what, and where we’re having dinner I wouldn’t mind a suitable wine to go along with it, but I have to stop drinking. Not so much for myself, but for you, your sister, and your brother. I… I want to stay a part of your lives, to see you grow old, and start families of your own in the future. It would be a shame if I am to deny myself these opportunities because I drank myself to death���

Winter: Thank you, Mother. Hearing you say that means a lot to me. But, if you want to give up drinking, why are you looking forward to having wine with your meal?

Willow: I’m slowly weaning myself off drinking. Not everyone can just go cold turkey now can they?

Winter: I would prefer it if you did.

Willow: Well, it would probably be for the best if I did, but… Oh, we’re here, let’s continue this discussion later, and find your sister.

Winter: Very well then, Mother.

As the ship landed the mother, and daughter duo grabbed their luggage, and made their way towards the academy. As they neared closer to the tower, Willow couldn’t help, but take in the sights around her.

Willow: Oh my… Beacon Academy is such a lovely place.

Winter: Yes, the warm breeze, and vibrant greenery give this place such a relaxing air to it.

Willow: I know, Weiss went to, Beacon to escape father in, Atlas. But, do you suppose this rich atmosphere contributed to it?

Winter: I believe it was more so her desire to escape, Father. But, this is a nice benefit.

Willow: I hope she is feeling happy here.

Winter: Me too.

Willow: But, where do you believe she is?

Winter: I have no idea, there should be an information desk up front we can ask.

Willow: Or, I suppose we could ask him if he knows where, Weiss is.

Winter: Who?

As they drew closer to the, Academy they saw the statue out front, and a student sitting on the base of the statue. They noticed that he was seemingly mumbling to himself as he ran his hands through his golden hair as he evaded the white horns poking out.

Winter: A faunas?

Willow: Excuse me, young man?

: Hmm, what? Oh, hello.

Willow: Hello. I was wondering if you could help us.

: With what?

Winter: We’re looking for my sister, Weiss Schnee, do you perchance know her?

: Weiss Schnee? Yeah, I know her, we’re friends after all.

Willow: Excellent, can you please lead us to her?

: Sure I can… I can…?! Hurk?!

His hand quickly came up to cover his mouth, seemingly trying to repress a gag. His luck failed him as he continued to dry heave until a he opened his mouth, and a belch of fire erupted from his mouth before he fell into a small coughing fit as small jets of flame escaping his mouth with each cough. As soon as his coughing fit ended he popped a small white marble into his mouth, before turning to address the duo.

: Jacques you cheap bastard! (Cough!) Ahem, sorry about that, upset stomach. Hehe…

The duo looked at him in stunned shock, taking a moment for themselves to collect themselves. Willow seemingly able to keep her wits about her.

Willow: A-Are you okay?

: Yeah, I’m fine.

Winter: But, you just belched fire?

: That’s a semi-common occurrence.

Willow: But…?!

Winter: Wait, Mother… Male, blue eyes, blond hair, horns, and can breath fire… You’re the, Dragon King, Jaune Arc, aren’t you?

Jaune: That’s me, well mostly. I’m not a king of any sorts, but I am a dragon faunas. Anyway, my name is, Jaune Arc, nice to meet you.

Jaune offered his hand for the pair to shake as they introduced themselves in kind.

Willow: Willow, Willow Schnee, it’s a pleasure to meet you.

Winter: Specialist Winter Schnee.

Jaune: So you’re, Weiss’s family? That explained the smells.

Winter: Smells?

Jaune: I have a highly, highly acute sense of smell. I can smell familiarity’s between people, to the point I can tell if someone is related to another.

Winter: That sounds like an impressive ability.

Jaune: It has its downsides… Like my little sister trying to use me as a bloodhound…

Willow: You said you are friends with my daughter, Mr. Arc, can you lead us to her?

Jaune: Uhhh… No, no I can’t. She went into, Vale with the rest of her team just a little while ago.

Winter: She did, why?

Jaune: I don’t know; I left to ‘throw up,’ and when I came back she, and her teammates had disappeared. My sister said that they had made an emergency trip to, Vale, and that was all there was to it. Do you want me to call her, and let her know you’re here?

Winter: No… Well, maybe we should.

Willow: Oh dear… I was hoping to surprise her with our sudden visit.

Jaune: You can still do that if you want.

Willow: We can, how?

Jaune: Weiss, and her teams room is just down the hall from my teams room. You can wait there until she arrives.

Winter: What do you think mother?

Willow: We might as well, this young man has graciously offered us his place to us while we wait for your sister to return. We won’t be in there for a few hours at most.

Winter: Very well, we graciously accept your kind offer, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: My pleasure, and please, just call me, Jaune.

Winter: Very well then, Jaune.

Jaune: Even if you rejected my offer you’d no doubt be taken to my room anyway so I could inspect those diamonds, and any other gemstones of yours. If there are any that is…

Winter: What are you talking about?

Jaune: Two things: Those are, Fortress grade safe-boxes, made by the, Gem Refinery. To which I own, I know my merchandise. Especially the safe-boxes…

Willow: Wait, you’re the owner of the, Gem Refinery?

Jaune: Yes, I am. Second I over heard, Weiss… screaming to her father on how she wanted her entire families precious jewels so they can be appraised. And, who is that appraiser, me: Jaune Arc, the Lapidary Master!

Willow: You’re the, Lapidary Master?!

Jaune: Yep!

Willow: I don’t believe you. You’re just a teenager, and you’re supposedly the worlds most renowned fine cut gem grader?

Jaune: Oh, just you wait, and see darling! Now then, lets go look at some pretty stones!

~~~

Jaune: Hmmmm…?

Jaune hummed in speculation as he examined a rather large diamond on a gold ring with a jewellers magnifier. Willow looked on in a chair besides him, while, Winter look on from his bed as, Jaune worked.

Willow: That was the engagement ring my husband gave me, he said it is one caret diamond ring.

Willow: …

Willow: It is a diamond ring… Right?

Jaune looked at, Willow, back to the ring, and then back to her. Their eyes stayed locked for a moment before he threw it into his mouth, and a hard crunching sound soon followed this action.

Willow’s face fell into her hands as she groaned in disbelief at what she had just witnessed, again.

Willow didn’t believe, Jaune when he started sorting her diamonds into two piles, one labeled real, and labeled fake. The ‘fake’ pile had grown considerably larger then the ‘real’ pile to the point she doubted he was actually genuinely grading her diamonds, and was trying to steal them. To prove his innocence, he grabbed a sizeable real diamond, and bit it. The sound it made was akin to bitting a jaw breaker: hard, and solid, as if one smacked their head against a wall.

Jaune, then grabbed one he deemed a ‘fake’ and bit into it. The sound was like someone bit into a hard candy, and wanted to chew it up, instead of sucking on it; Loud, and crunchy.

He made this a habit whenever she doubted his expertise, as a master gemologist. A habit she had come to dread because of the details that followed with it.

Luckily that was the second to last diamonf he needed to inspect, and she knew for certain that the last one wasn’t fake.

Willow: At least tell me the ring was made of gold?

Jaune spat out the piece of metal next to the pile of fakes, she grimaced as she looked at him as he regretfully smiled at her.

Jaune: Well… Pyrite, isn’t called ‘fools gold’ for nothing… hehe…

Willow: Gods dammit… My husband bought me a fake engagement ring?! How cheap of a man is he?!

Winter: More so then we could possibly believe…

Jaune: I doubt he was in this case.

Winter: What do you mean?

Jaune: Well… From what I’ve been told your father is a greedy whore. Uhh?! N-No offence.

Winter: None taken.

Willow: Please, feel free to continue badmouthing my husband at your leisure.

Jaune: Okay? Anyway, your husband is a greedy whore, from what I’ve seen. And, from what, Weiss has said about him is that he doesn’t commit to anything that doesn’t have a shiny price tag attached to it. I think he acquired these gemstones as a future investment. Liquid assets as you would put it.

Winter: That sounds like something father would do, but why would he buy fakes? My father is a greedy bastard, and will do everything to save a chip. He wouldn’t buy fake diamonds, there’s no value in that.

Jaune: Maybe he didn’t know he was buying fakes?

Winter: You believe someone swindled him?

Willow: It is a logically sound idea when you think about it.

Jaune: I’m well aware of several infamous gem pedlars. Give me a list of your sellers, and I could identify who is a legit seller, and who is not. Because there are some real ones here, so maybe he bought the fakes from one person, and the real ones from another.

Willow: I believe they were all acquired from one person, at least the vast majority were.

Jaune: And, that person’s name is?

Willow: Cartiff… Cartiff… Oh, I forget his first name.

Jaune: …

Jaune: It wouldn’t happen to be, Quintin now would it…?

Willow: Quintin… Yes, Quintin Cartiff, that was his name. How did you know?

Jaune: Quintin… Quintin Cartiff…

Willow: J-Jaune? Is everything okay…

Jaune: Quintin CARTIFF!!!

Winter immediately jumped in front of her mother pulling her mother back. Her hand stayed on her blade as she saw a truly terrifying sight. Within the space of a blink the calm, and happy boy revealed a monster of fire, and ash. His head realed upwards as he scream his name in a bloody rage. Winter got to see first hand the hidden fang he hide behind that warm, and inviting smile of his. The way his mouth shut, terrified her knowing full well he could bite down into someone in mere seconds, and could easily pierce through aura, and flesh like it was tissue paper. She marvelled at the sight of blue flames erupting from clenched fangs. The reports she had seen about the dragon faunas were fragmented, and vague, but even those brief insights paled in reality at the sight before her.

The flames, erupting from, Jaune’s teeth slowly fettered out as a finally deep exhale escaped his lips, he shook his head as if trying to shake off some sort of ill feeling upon him. He leaned back in his chair to look at the mother, daughter duo as he gave them a nervous, and embarrassed smile as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

Jaune: Ah haha… Sorry about that… I didn’t expect hearing his name to set me off like that… Hehehe… Sorry…

Willow: It seems you are well acquainted with this individual?

Jaune: As well as I would like to be. The bastard is an infamous counterfeiter, specializing in fake jewels. Particularly diamonds. I met him years ago after I just started out my… passion for collecting precious gemstones. He sold me some nice diamonds the first few times, but then he came back again, and the ‘diamonds’ he brought were all fakes. He denied it of course. Then I ate his ‘diamonds’ to prove to him that they were all fakes.

Willow: Oh, so eating fake diamonds is not a recent habit you’ve developed. I thought it was just for show.

Jaune: Well, yeah it kinda is. I mean what better way to prove if a diamond is a fake?

Winter: Do you often eat precious stones?

Jaune: No, I tend to eat, Dust more so then cubic zirconia, and the like. That’s why I was belching fire earlier, Weiss fead me some, SDC Dust that made me sick to my stomach. Jacques is such a cheap bastard…

Winter: Wait, you eat, Dust?!

Willow: And, what does my husband have to do with that?

Jaune: Okay, one box left to examine!

Jaune simply ignored the ladies questions as he took out the last box. It was a seven inch cube box covered in various locking mechanisms that, Jaune was quite intrigued on opening it himself. But, in the pursuit of time he just handed it over to, Willow who opened it herself. And, upon it’s opening, Jaune beheld a beautiful sight. The one diamond he had been hoping to see for ages.

The famous, Schnee Diamond.

The diamond was cut into an orb with a with a three diameter, roughly making it the same size as your average baseball. It shimmered, and sparkled like a star under the light of his desk lamp. He extended the talons on his hand as he picked it up, and inspected this prized jewel. Turning it over as he marvelled in its beauty.

Willow: …?

Willow: Do you like it, Mr. Arc?

Jaune: …

Willow: Do you like it, Jaune?

Jaune: …

Willow: Jaune!

Jaune: Huw? Oh yeah, It is such a marvellous diamond… I’ve been dreaming of seeing it, holding it within my hands to marvel in its splendour since I first saw photos of it, and I must say those photos do it no justice in its magnificent.

Winter: Are you sure it’s real?

Winter cheekily remarked as, Jaune was lost in the beauty of the diamond in his taloned fingers. Her smile fell as she heard the most beautiful ringing sound she had ever heard as he tapped the diamond with his talon before turning to face her.

Jaune: Hear that? Humans can’t here this sound, most faunas can’t hear it either, but I can. Most diamonds are too small to make this an audible sound for most people to hear it. But, this diamond is big enough for anyone to hear it singing. Only a real diamond can make such beautiful sounds.

Willow: It is such a beautiful sound, I had no idea such sounds can come from a diamond.

Jaune: Only a few bare such elegance… Oh I wish I could have this diamond for myself… But alas, I doubt your open to selling it. Are you…?

Willow: If I was… Hypothetically speaking, how much would it be…?!

Jaune: Three billion Lien.

The duo looked at him astonished at the thought that, that diamond was worth, Three Billion Lein. The sense of unquestionable authority as he stated this didn’t make them question the possibility that he was gaslighting them so he could get it for a fraction of the price.

Willow: Oh my… I… I did not expect that…

Jaune: Didn’t you have it graded before?

Willow: Decades ago, and back then it was nearly a billion lien. But, to imagine the price has gone up that much… it’s unbelievable…

Jaune: It would be the worlds most valuable diamond, but that title was taken away from it a few years back.

Winter: Oh really? What took it’s place?

Jaune: This…

As if appearing from thin air, Jaune held out before the duo a diamond; A diamond cut into a sphere with a diameter of five inches across. Winter’s breath was stolen away as, Willow at the beauty presented before her. She carefully took it from him, fearing the validity of the rumours that he would gut her if she touched it. But, it appeared as if he was offering it to her to hold, so she took it.

She was amazed by its hefty weight, as she saw the light sparkle across it surface. She was amazed when her father showed her the, Schnee diamond, but the splendour of this diamond put it to shame so thoroughly she couldn’t find it in herself to complain about it in the slightest.

Willow: The Translucent Apple… Oh she is absolutely gorgeous~!

Winter: You’re the owner of the world’s largest diamond…?! That makes sense because you’re such a gemstone lover… But wait, where did you pull that out from? Do you just keep it hidden on your person at all times.

Jaune: Not in the shower.

Winter: What?!

Willow: It is truly a marvellous diamond. It was an honour to hold it. Winter, do you perhaps?

Winter: Nnnno, no I wouldn’t. If our family’s diamond is worth three billion, it terrifies me to hold something worth…

Jaune: Five billion Lien.

Winter: Five billion Lien… Wait, what really?!

Jaune: I am not considered one of the richest men in the world for nothing.

Winter: Five billion… And, he just has that up his coats sleeves?!

Willow: Well, it was a pleasure, despite the sheer disappointment of it all, no fault upon you, Jaune. I thank you for grading our families diamonds, and other precious stones.

Jaune: My pleasure… If you want, I can set you up with a jeweller from my company. I can confirm whole heartedly their validity as the genuine article.

Willow: I would appreciate that very much. But, there is something I would like to ask you…

Jaune: That being?

Willow: I heard you were offered gemstones as a dowery of sorts… Does that offer still stand?

Jaune’s burning focus of ingraining the beauty of the, Schnee Diamond upon his mind had finally been broken. Not even offering up the, Translucent Apple for, Willow to marvel at had broken his singular concentration of the diamond within his talon fingers. But, that one question broke him from his stupor like a gunshot to the heart. For he knew all to well what the dowery for this proposal would be.

Jaune: A-Are you offering me this diamond for your daughters hand…?

Willow: Indeed I am.

Winter: Mother no!

Winter exclaimed in shock as she looked at her mother as if she had lost her sanity. And, worry as, Jaune eyed the diamond with a new burning intensity trapped deep within the very depths of his soul.

Jaune: This… This is a priceless family heirloom, you wouldn’t simply give it away for me to accept, Weiss’s hand in marriage would you?

Willow: The diamond would still be in the hands of a, Schnee if you married my daughter, so it wouldn’t be lost. And, I never said anything about you marrying, Weiss now did I?

Willow looked to her eldest child with a smile as, Winter’s voice failed her. She was dumbfounded that this conversation had taken such a drastic turn. Was her mother seriously offering up the family’s prized heirloom for her hand in marriage?!

It was unthinkable. That her mother would do this to her on seemingly a whim. It scared her. But, what truly terrified her was the deafening silence that followed as, Jaune looked between her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

At her, and the diamond.

And, then at her, and only her.

Winter gulped in fear at the sudden turn her life was about to make.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Hi! For the ficlet prompts: For Tarlos: 🫶🏻 Breakfast date For BuckTommy: 🛏️ There's only one bed, and it's… a single (or broken? Like sunken down in the center or something. Whichever option sparks joy. 😂)

There's only one bed, and it's a single

A few weeks into their relationship, Buck wonders why Tommy still hasn't invited him over to his house. Somehow, they always seem to end up in the loft, apart form that one memorable date that ended in the 118's locker room – he’s still proud of himself for keeping his mouth shut about it the next day, even though his face probably screamed „ask me what happened last night“. Anyway, Tommy often just turns up at his door or picks him up from work and drives to the loft as a matter of course, and for a while Buck thinks it's just because he likes his place so much. It's tastefully furnished, right? And since he owns a couch again, Star Wars movie nights with Tommy next to him are much nicer.

It's just... Eddie had been so enthusiastic about Tommy's house, the garage, the dōjō; and Buck – Tommy’s boyfriend, mind you – hasn’t even seen a glimpse of all that. There are, of course, many possible explanations for this. Maybe Tommy’s a slob and it's always untidy (Eddie didn't mention this), or he's ashamed of his furniture (Eddie didn't mention this) or he's currently renovating (nope, not a word about that from Eddie). Either these made-up motives are as silly as they sound in Buck's head, or the real reason is him. Both could be true. 

One evening, after a very good dinner (it's perfectly acceptable to praise yourself, Buck thinks, especially after receiving top cooking honors from Bobby), it's time to grab the bull by the horns. 

“We're gonna sleep at your house tonight,” he says.

Tommy sets his glass down, blinks and replies, “We’ve basically just arrived at your place, Evan.”

"Right, but you’re staying overnight at my place about three times a week.“

“Didn't have the feeling that it was too much,” says Tommy with a wink.

Buck is melting away. This man has such a magnetic effect... But not this time, he swears to himself. He's let this slide long enough. If there's one thing he's learned, it's that problems should be addressed. This one isn't necessarily a problem, but it's a little oddity that has piqued his curiosity. And perhaps it also scratches his ego a little.

“No, I love it when you're here,” he says, feeling his cheeks flush. “But Eddie keeps telling me about your house and...”

“What is Eddie doing in this conversation now?” 

Tommy sounds genuinely confused, and he can't blame him. Buck takes a deep breath. 

“I want to see how you live.”

That's not quite the right approach, but at least Tommy smiles his adorable smile, which makes his face go all scrunchy. His answer, however, is not an exuberant “okay, let's get going”. Instead, he says, “That's sweet, but I'm rarely at home. It’s actually not that exciting.”

Somehow, it is, at least it starts getting annoying; Buck's curiosity is hard to tame when he believes he's discovered some kind of riddle. While it’s certainly exciting to see that there still are some things about Tommy that remain mysterious to him, his house shouldn't be on the top list of sweet secrets he holds. 

“I’m getting a vibe that you don't want me there, Tommy.”

“It's not like that.”

“Then what is it? Do you have any porn magazines lying around? Don't you want me to see your underwear drawer?”

“Evan...”

“Are there pictures of your ex-boyfriends on the walls?” Now Buck is on a roll. “Do you collect tasteless art? Is your house just too small for two people to be comfortable?”

“Evan,” Tommy groans. Wide-eyed, Buck glares at him, until Tommy finally exhales loudly and adds, “Yeah, it's too small. You're not going to give it a rest, are you?“

“My therapist says I should talk about my feelings. And there's no one I'd rather do that with than you, Tommy, and right now... well. Honestly, it's driving me crazy.”

“All right,” goes Tommy, getting up and taking his hand, ”there's no point in delaying it any longer anyway. Come with me. We're going to my place – but whether you want to sleep there remains to be seen.”

That, of course, was an even more mysterious answer, but Buck jumps to his feet immediately.

From the outside, Tommy's house looked neither particularly small nor large. The most remarkable thing about the single-storey, flat-roofed building was probably that it stood in the middle of a terraced housing estate in the suburbs. It wasn't an area Buck would have associated with Tommy, and there was probably a story behind it that he was eager to hear one day. 

Inside, it was just as unremarkable. This was the house of a single man who often did 24-hours-shifts and also had very excessive hobbies that made him leave the house quite often. In other words, a comparatively interchangeable place. Eddie hadn't mentioned anything about that either, he'd probably been blinded by the flights to Vegas and the garage. There were no photos of ex-boyfriends on the walls, no obvious porn movies in the impressive DVD collection, no tasteless art; there weren't even any potted plants, “I just don't have a green thumb,” says Tommy. 

“I don't understand why you didn't already show me your house,” Buck says, a little disappointed that he still couldn't solve the puzzle.

“Hm,” Tommy utters, and it sounds almost apologetic. He wraps his arms around Buck and adds, “You're here now.”

„Yes, and I forgot a change of clothes. You’re gonna have to lend me some tomorrow.“

“You're really determined to spend the night here?”

“You bet,” Buck says, his eyes roaming the room, ”show me your bedroom and I'll show you how determined I am.”

“Then get ready for a cold shower,” Tommy returns, taking Buck's hand and leading him further into his house. 

The door opened to another plain, rather functionally furnished room with a built-in wardrobe, a second door that probably led to the bathroom, a large window without any curtains and virtually no accessories. Then Buck’s gaze falls on the bed, and his jaw drops.

“Well, I told you it was small...”

“I thought you meant your house.”

It was the bed. A narrow, single bed. It wasn't an unusual place to sleep, of course; millions of bedrooms were furnished like this. Buck just couldn't understand why anyone would voluntarily give up the comfort of a kingsize when they were tall and beefy like his adorable boyfriend with the very embarrassed look on his face. 

“W-wait a minute. Is that why we always spent the night at my place? Because you’re sleeping in... this crib?”

“Hey, I like this bed,” Tommy replies, grimacing. “It's just not a good place for two. Hold on, what were you thinking, Evan?“

“Well, for a while I thought you just liked my shower...”

“... it's an excellent shower, I must say.”

"Well, to be honest, I thought it’s not that important to you."

Tommy looks intently at his face, shaking his head. 

“Did you seriously think you weren't important enough for me? I thought we had clarified that point by now. And for once, I'm not talking about the excellent sex, honey.“

"Which would be … not that comfortable in that bed," Buck says when the penny finally drops. “Adorable, Tommy. As if the kitchen table wasn't enough for us.”

“But would you want to sleep on it?”

“Good point,” Buck mutters. “We really can't both fit in the bed.”

“Gonna be tough. And… actually, I really prefer your shower.“

“I'll probably have to talk to the landlord about the water consumption.”

"Well, we don’t need to move together so soon," Tommy argues. “But you could help me buy a bigger bed, how about that?”

“Excellent,” says Buck. “But we have to be sure it’s too small for the things I’d love to do with you.”

He pushes the surprised Tommy onto the bed with a casual nudge.

“Fine,” Tommy replies with a grin before closing Buck's mouth with a kiss, ”but we're sleeping at your place tonight.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Thank you for the adorable prompt, @herrmannhalsteadproduction. I'm gonna need to skip the Tarlos one because I'm running out of spare time, but this was fun 😂❤️

[karticatyt]

Next gen AU character roster!! This is mostly just an attempt to practice formatting posts and figure out how to use this app um ANYWAY

(heads up, this won’t be extremely in depth about lore or backstories, just simple introductions!)

This is the main roster in a row next to each other, along with their ages. Some of the art here is older than others… I’ll explain them in some more detail.

This here is Amber Gleam and her sister, Comet Trail! Long story short, Amber’s ‘real’ name is Cicada, and she is actually an adopted changeling, raised by Princess Twilight and later on her stepdad, Sunburst. Comet is her younger sister. Comet is competing with their cousin, Flurry Heart for royal guard status. I’ll talk more about Flurry later. Amber has been raised in the shadows for most of her life to hide her identity, which has led to issues socializing as well as a harsh reputation among the public as opposed to her sister.

Racing Heart isn’t actually the offspring of any canon characters, but she is an old OC that I love too much to remove, so she’s a part of my AU because she can. She’s a hopeless romantic lesbian who constantly crushes on all kinds of characters, but her eye is primarily set on Cotton Bow, who I’ll talk about next. I accidentally made her with lesbian colors back in 5th grade… I didn’t even know the word lesbian… wow…

Cotton Bow is the daughter of Mayor Diamond Tiara and Pipsqueak. She is best friends with Amber and they both bond over the issues that come from being the daughters of well known political figures and just wanting to be average, normal ponies. Although, Cotton doesn’t know about Cicada’s secret. Cotton’s special talent is knitting/crocheting (to her parents’ dismay) and she’s an introvert who doesn’t want to follow her family’s legacy.

Koi Concord is the son of Discord and Fluttershy. He has some powers from his father but they mainly remain limited to nature. He obtained his mother’s ability to speak to animals, but his favorites are sea creatures. He spends majority of his time swimming in rivers and creeks with little fishy friends, and keeps to himself for the most part. (Amber doesn’t like him very much as she deems his introversion as a waste of his ability to coexist with ponies as a mix breed/foreign species unbothered, unlike her who has to stay a secret)

Marigold Peaberry! The daughter of Rarity and Joe, she actually was really difficult to make a solid design for because I made her before picking her parents and then I had to redesign her to make her look related… it was a whole mess. She still doesn’t really have any personality or official role in the story.

Now we’re getting into old art territory… Startrix have 2 kids! Epitome Dusk and her brother Jinx Nightfall. Jinx is magically disabled and cannot use his horn without causing any accidents.This made his family incredibly heartbroken, but they all love him nonetheless. I imagine that these two hang out with Concord the most, since he’s the youngest of my next gen main characters.

Now time for Flurry! In my next gen AU, they are actually nonbinary and are dating Luster Dawn! I had a little bit of a poll/vote among my friends over if Luster should have been with Flutty or Comet and Flurry won! They don’t have a large role.

You might be wondering why that purple one at the end of the roster hasn’t appeared, and that’s because they aren’t canon. at least, I haven’t decided if they should be or not. Sunrise is a next gen for pinkiedash, but they’re merely a design concept for now. I’ll probably answer any questions people have about these guys if i have any answers. i doubt i’ll be getting any for a WHILE.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

i'm grateful you're my daughter more than anything

Post 6x09, Runaan finds Rayla as she takes care of Callum. She's changed, and he couldn't be a prouder father.

Felt cute might put up on ao3 later :b

The first moment they had alone was in the dead of the night, moon high above the Nexus. It felt fitting, almost full-circle.

On his way down the hall to the library, to get parchment to send a letter to Ethari explaining what could never truly be explained, at least not fully, Runaan spotted Rayla slipping down the hall, footsteps light and quick as a true assassin's, despite how opposite of one she was, a steaming teacup on a little plate in her hands.

She looked up when she heard him, smiling a little as her low ponytail swung. "Runaan. ...Hey." She cleared her throat. "How- how are you feeling?"

He shrugged in the enormously oversized nightshirt the lumberjack human, Allen, had lent him. It was off-putting, being out of his form-fitting, safe garb, especially in this strange, unknown place he should very well have felt relaxed in- a full moon, at the Moon Nexus, but all Runaan could feel was... odd. "As good as one can, I suppose. How are you, though? How is your human? Clem- Camel? Stop me when I get it right-"

She laughed, and it wasn't a snarky one he'd grown so accustomed to. "Callum." A smile ticked her lips upwards at his name. "His name's Callum. And he's-" Rayla looked away to the wall, the little table she elected to set the tea down on, anywhere but him. "He's okay. I think. Mostly in shock. But he'll get through it." The unspoken words hung in the air, a truth both of them hated knowing: What other choice does he have?

"He's got you," Runaan offered, drawing closer. "That's pretty damn good."

She laughed again, a real, merry one, despite the bitter undertones. "Yeah. Some cuddles and tea are all I can do until morning. Bright and early, we go to Katolis." She made a face, and at least that was the same- her utter hatred of mornings.

Just like that, Runaan found himself relaxing just a little more into her presence. No longer a little girl he felt the need to protect- Well, she would always be that, his beloved daughter once he started acting like it, but someone he trusted to have his back. Even with how much she'd changed, not everything had.

"I will be up with the sun," he promised, and she looked away. That had just been one more thing setting her apart from the rest back at the Silvergrove, during training: her adamant refusal to awaken at the crack of dawn for early-morning runs and sparring.

Good. Please, let her never be like the Silvergrove, Runaan prayed now, just as he had so many moons ago with Ethari after Lain and Tiadrin left. Let her never have the hardened heart of an assassin, the only ones the community would spare the time of day. She had an out, and one look at her and Callum was enough for Runaan to know that she'd take it and never look back.

"Well, I should get this to Callum," Rayla said awkwardly, stilted, moving to take the cup, but Runaan stopped her with a gentle touch to her wrist. "Rayla, wait." Gentle, the way he'd be with Ethari. Because this was his daughter, not a member of his troupe or someone under his jurisdiction. His family.

She pursed her lips slightly and shook her loose bangs out of her eyes, and Runaan couldn't help but remember back to her parents. She was the perfect combination of them, with Lain's braids and horns, Tiadrin's nose and face shape, and her lavender eyes unique only to her. Setting her apart. "Yeah?"

He drew his hand back. "I've never seen you like this," he said, admittedly curiously.

Rayla tilted her head, questioning kindly rather than the abrasive, aggressive way she'd always done before. "Like what?"

"Giving," Runaan said, because that was the first word that came to him. Rayla had always been kind and generous and loving, no matter how she'd hated to show it. "Kind. Loving. Happy."

She took a hesitant step closer, reaching to rest her gentle, small hand on his upper arm, blinking furiously.

"It's a good look on you." He blinked his own tears away as she bit back a sob-ridden laugh. "The best one."

Rayla ducked her head, bangs swinging with the motion. "Thank you. That... It means a lot. So much."

Runaan clasped her hands, drinking the sight of his daughter in. So small physically, but larger than life. So, so loved and gorgeous, inside and out, and he was sure her human made sure she knew it, too.

"You have a beautiful heart, Rayla," he said eventually, softly. "The most gorgeous I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. My worst regret is trying to burn it away instead of nurturing it. And for that..." A hand found its way to lay over his heart, bringing a sniffling Rayla’s with it. "I am truly sorry."

"Runaan..." She shook her head, reaching up to wipe away his tears, and they were the softest fingertips Runaan could remember, his own and Ethari's so calloused and rough. And here was Rayla, giving and gentle. The daughter he'd always dreamed of but never deserved. "Don't," she said firmly. "It was my choice. My choices. I had to find my way here on my own. In the end..." She glanced back down the hall, to the closed door that the boy she loved more than life rested behind. "I like where it got me. I'm glad I'm here."

"Rayla..." Runaan tucked her hair behind her ears, pressing their foreheads together. "I don't know what it means to you, but I am so proud of you. I love you, Little Blade. You are my daughter. I only hope you'll let me be your father."

Rayla threw her arms around him, sending him stumbling back in shock, immediately holding her back. "Of course. I'd forgiven you a long time ago, Runaan. I'm so glad you're my father. You always will be. I love you."

And he'd already said it tonight, but Runaan had spent far too much time hating and killing, and not nearly enough loving. So he hugged her back, whispering, "I love you, too."

[adobe-outdesign]

have you been asked to review the Tapu pokemon yet?

As a whole, I really like the Tapus. It's neat to have one guardian per Alolan island, and the designs themselves are well thought out. I really like how each one has a set of white triangular markings with a darker border, which allows each one of them to be very distinctive with unique designs and palettes while also making sure all three look like they belong together in a group. This is also enhanced by them carrying tiki-inspired masks, with each one being based on a different animal that also influences the creature itself to some degree. Good stuff.

Thematically, the Tapus are also based off of the four main Hawaiian gods (Koko, Lele, Bulu, and Fini seem to be based off of Kūkaʻilimoku, Kāne, Lono, and Kanaloa respectively). I'm obviously not Hawaiian so I don't feel qualified to judge these guys on accuracy, though it seems like Tapu Koko is the most on-point with the feathered look while Tapu Fini is the least, having little to do with the deity it's based off of aside from a vague connection to the ocean.

Regardless, all of these designs are distinct and do a good job standing out from other legendaries, as well as tying back into their region. There was clearly a lot of thought that went into them in terms of both functionality and visual aesthetics.

Tapu Koko is my personal favorite of the bunch. Vaguely based off a rooster (side note: I'm amazed we don't have a rooster 'mon yet. I guess Blaziken counts but it's only a rooster in the vaguest sense of the word), it sports feathers, a beak-like structure on its face, and a mask that it forms a beak with using its pincer-like hands. Really neat! I also like the mohawk becomes the rooster's comb when the mask is closed.

The orange and yellow palette is also nice, as it's very high-contrast and pops well against the black body. My only nitpicks would be that the two pairs of chest markings feel a bit too busy, as do the lines in the yellow part of the eye (though granted, they all have those). Otherwise, this is a very neat design.

I like Tapu Lele because it looks all cute and pretty and then it turns out it's an incredibly cruel nature deity that does not care about the suffering it causes. It and Beautifly should be friends.

Anyway, Tapu Lele is meant to resemble a butterfly head, with the hair curls becoming antennae and a tentacle emerging from the bottom that resembles a proboscis, along with two wing-like structures on the back. I don't think it reads quite as clearly as some of the others, and I do wish the body took after its animal more (the creature itself having no insect-like traits, compared to the other Tapus where you can see the animal influence outside of the masks), but it's still neat.

Tapu Bulu probably resembles its animal the most in terms of body shape, having a bull's signature nose piercing and hooves, as well as horns. Most interesting is the long tail, which not only matches the hooves but becomes the bull's nose ring when the mask closes.

The colors are nice and high-contrast, but I do wish it had been green instead of red. Koko is yellow and orange, Lele is pink and red, and Fini is purple and blue. Having Bulu be red and gold feels too similar to Lele, even if it fits the angry bull idea. It also would've made sense from a typing perspective, as Tapu Bulu is the grass-type of the group (even the horns kind of look like pencils/wood).

Otherwise I don't have any real complaints, outside of the face markings feeling a bit busy, as you have the nose, ring, and three different eye markings. I feel like they could've easily dropped the white eye markings and not lost anything.

And finally, Tapu Fini is probably my least favorite of the group, though it's still a good design. I like the body shape (kind of siren-like, though I don't know if that was intentional) with fin-shaped accents in the hair, on the hands, and on the body.

When it closes its mask it resembles a swordfish of sorts, with the hair strands becoming the side fins and the hair fin slotting into the mask's purple ridge to form a dorsal fin. Something about the fish itself feels a little off though; maybe it's just that it lacks a tail fin, or maybe it just looks a bit too plain compared to the others because it's meant to be viewed more from the side. Still a pretty solid design all around though.

Anyway, overall, I think these guys are great. They're cohesive but distinct, have unique visuals and themes that set them apart from other legendaries, and designs that work from both a visual and mechanical standpoint. Good stuff.

[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

Wonderland pt 1

Part 1 (Eventually) Yandere Luke castellan x Gender neutral reader

Summary you're from wonderland well at least you're mother is you're father is a God. The best swordsman in camp takes an.... interesting and obsessive liking to you

Also I feel like we offen forget wine isn't the only thing Dionysus is the God of but madness as well. I currently have bad writers block and couldn't currently think of anything else to add so I decided to split it into parts since I needed to post something.

Trigger warnings nothing yet, but eventually in future parts yandere themes like stalking, manipulation, kidnapping (extra)

You weren't from this world well......technically you are you were from a part of the world everyone thought was made up just another part of the human imagination......Wonderland . Wonderland was very.....disconnected from actual sane people or large bustling cities like New York. Your mother was probably one of the subjects of the queen of hearts just kinda surviving. Your father isn't exactly normal either he was also never around. Honestly as much as you love your mother it was kinda hard to imagine a God falling for her or really a God falling for anyone in Wonderland because while some of the inhabitants of Wonderland is more sane then others even the more sane ones start to go insane eventually.

Which is why when you were 13 you ran away from home. Although you had no clue where to go or what to do now you had left Wonderland. You're clothes and mismatched socks probably also made you stand out to by standers because in real life on Earth the other humans weren't used to seeing people dress in bright colors and patterns unless celebrating. After a few days of wandering aimlessly you ran into help or rather help ran into you.

You were desperately scrounging around for food thinking maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave home when you felt someone run smack into you causing you both to tumble towards the ground. "Oh my pan! I'm so sorry." A male voice said. He had ...goat horns? Ehh not the weirdest thing you've ever seen. "Are those horns really or .....?" You asked. "They're real. Oh I'm Grover. " Grover replied. You weren't sure what to say or do and that's how you met Grover. After about a week of traveling with Grover is when you met Luke, Thalia and Annabeth.

" Hey Grover I'm going to find something to eat for myself. " You replied. " Ok just don't go far I'll finish setting up camp." Grover said. You did in fact wander to far when you stumbled upon a bush full of berries and you were about to eat some when you heard a voice tell you to wait. "Wait, don't eat those! those are holly berries they are poisonous!" A young female voice exclaimed. You looked around for the source of the voice. You spotted a young girl no older than 7 standing between some trees you could make out 2 more figures behind her one another female and the other male. You backed away your left hand reaching for a dagger in your pocket you swear wasn't there a moment ago while you're right hand still held the berries.

" Who are you why should I trust you?" You questioned. You got a closer look at them the seven year old girl had grey eyes , black hair and brown skin, the other gir who looked about a year younger than you so 12 had choppy short black hair , blue eyes and is white. She pushed the younger seven year old behind her. " Thalia I can protect myself!" The seven year old exclaimed. While the two girls were arguing you managed to sneak away not noticing the male following you.

" Grover!" You exclaimed finally making it back to the very stressed looking satyr. Grover rushed over to you. " Y/n there you are! You were gone for an hour I was worried I was calling your name but no reply and I didn't want to leave the fire unattended. Your not hurt are you?" Grover asked like a panicked father looking over you to make sure you didn't have any new injuries. " Hey Grover I'm ok. I'm ok." You replied. " Pan Y/n you had me so worried!" Grover exclaimed. "LUKE!" The older female voice Thalia called out causing You and Grover to look in the direction of Thalia's voice and there stood the male that had been with the 2 younger females.

Now learning his name is Luke. You started to reach for your dagger once again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. "

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Kralsei is Doomed (and that's why I love it)

To me, Kralsei is a commentary on the idea of being in love with the idea of being in love - that is to say, being enthralled with the anticipation of courtship and falling in love, without really taking into consideration how the ensuing relationship would... actually work.

The depth of longing that is evident in Ralsei towards Kris is indeed intoxicating, and as I've mentioned previously, the game itself seems to push this pairing in the way that certain events are made to happen - most notably the acid tunnel of love running parallel to Noelle and Susie's heart-covered ferris-wheel ride. And add to that the whole nature of dark worlds as synonymous with dreams, fantasy and imagination. From a narrative perspective, the relationship seems almost destined to occur.

But I think Ralsei might find himself a bit adrift if and/or when he actually succeeds in wooing Kris... or the player, or whoever is predominantly in charge by that point. Like a dog chasing a car, I'm not certain he'd know quite what to do if he got what he was after, because at that point it stops being a flight of fancy and becomes real... which is very much the domain of the light world, and outside the darkness's purview.

And when getting swept up in the thrill of romance stories, it's easy to forget that the "struggle" does not end just because the couple share a tender kiss or whatever. Reality can, and often does, quickly ensue, and questions of long-term compatibility in the face of waning desire can spell doom for any relationship, no matter how "destined" it might seem in the run up to it.

This does not even take into consideration the biggest obstacle to this relationship - to exist in a form that we as players might recognise as reciprocal, it'd have to either be entirely confined to the dark world, or there'd have to be some way to bend the rules of Deltarune's reality to allow Ralsei to manifest in the light world, which... presents entirely new problems, not least because of the whole "Roaring" shindig.

Indeed, the more likely scenario, aside from the whole thing fizzling out or otherwise coming to an unfortunate end, is that Kris begins wearing the horned headband that is supposed to represent Ralsei, which as romantic a gesture as that might be, does not exactly live up to the promise that the pairing hints at... although in a strange way, such an outcome might end up strengthening the fantasy element of Kralsei, as a nascent relationship brought to a tragic end by the unflinching and immutable rules of light and dark. Such relationship never has to be actually tested by reality, which allows it to exist in a sort of crystalised state, a seemingly-perfect snapshot of a love that can perpetually exist in an idealised form.

It might be worth watching in future chapters to see how Kris and Ralsei's friendship develops, as it might give hints as to how Deltarune itself might end. Should the above come to pass, and the two come together only to be tragically wrenched apart by outside forces, it will suggest that the dark worlds will not be completely closed off, as the fantasy of Kralsei will be allowed to persist unchallenged by reality. If, however, they drift apart, or decide to remain friends only, or perhaps even if they break up mid-game, it would allow for a cleaner break between light and dark, suggesting some sort of sundering of the bridge between the two.

This, of course, sidelines any other interpretations of their relationship, such as an extended metaphor for self-love and acceptance, or of a coming-to-terms with the past, though I don't see that these can't co-exist alongside the above.

One final note: much of my focus has been on Ralsei rather than Kris, and there are grounds to argue that Kris does not wish, nor will they ever wish, to pursue a relationship with Ralsei. However, the fantasy of Kralsei's potential that exists both in Ralsei's head, and in players receptive to the game's suggestions, almost renders Kris's feelings and opinions on the subject moot. In other words: the reality of what Kris might want, even if that DOES end up wanting to be with Ralsei, is supplanted by the fantasy of their potential thrilling romance story.

In this, the core themes of Deltarune are again reinforced - Kris's choices do not matter, even if their choice would align with the fantasy-romance being suggested. This is not to suggest that I do not care what happens to Kris, but it does highlight that there is a narrative reason for Kralsei, or at least the idea of Kralsei, to exist in the game, and lends further weight to the idea that it is ultimately doomed to failure, regardless of the wishes of its participants.

[crooked-wasteland]

Oops: Rushing to Catharsis, Dodging Accountability

There is much to be said about the latest episode of Helluva Boss, and it is a bit of a tragedy that the animatic release felt like a more complete version of the episode than the actual finished product. From losing out on the visual intensity of Fizzarolli's injuries to the complete erasure of Barbie in the background of the disaster, it feels like these small changes removed the visceral intensity of the scene and its repercussions. Especially as Barbie is now the obvious point of conflict in Blitz's storyline, it feels like the impact of that part of the story is now devalued by her absence.

But that is hardly the end of the issues at play.

Medrano and her team rushed this story arc.

There are clear parallels to Bojack's two major story beats of Bojack abandoning Herb and the Sugarman Summer Home season arc. It is obvious that Blitz and Fizzarolli have a relationship paralleling that of Herb and Bojack in season one. However, Medrano pulls back in a multitude of ways and fails to commit the plot to a natural conclusion. While Herb rejects Bojack due to the fact that the latter never came to check up on him following his public disgrace and outing, Blitz is absolved of even that.

In the Bojack episode, Herb makes it clear that he doesn't blame his old friend for not standing with him when he was removed from Horsing Around. While he may have been upset at one time, he had cooled off and recognized that if the studio had let them both go, that would have been terrible for both of them.

Rather, it was Bojack assuming Herb's desires and thus avoiding his best friend for years under the belief that he had betrayed Herb so completely that the other wouldn't want to see him anyway. Bojack's insecurity was his own undoing in that relationship, even though it showed that both Herb and Bojack were still very compatible friends. Bojack's background of conditional relationships from his own parents set the groundwork for his hyperavoidant personality and how allowing generational trauma to dictate your relationships in life is a good way to lose everyone you ever hope to keep.

Here, Blitz didn't abandon Fizzarolli. Skipping to the end, Blitz was kept from seeing Fizz in the hospital by a currently unknown third party. Which removes his flaws on a fundamental level. While one could argue ripping off the storyline wholesale would have been just as bad, at least it wouldn't feel like a fanfiction retelling of that Bojack episode. It feels like Medrano had a very negative opinion of Herb and how he rejected Bojack and that this reiteration with her own characters is her way of "fixing" that relationship. At the same time, what Blitz ended up doing is far and above worse than Bojack simply not risking his career.

The episode takes the sequence as dark as they'd dare, Fizzarolli crawling out of the explosion as his body burns and disintegrates. The show really does want to bank itself on the emotional impact this sequence should have, picturing how afraid Fizz must be. The amount of pain he would be in as his mangled body turns to ash as he forces himself from the fire. His flesh melted, his horns seared red and glowing like it would if they were made of real keratin, his bones themselves falling apart as he forced his body to escape the disaster. And he calls out to the one person he held such admiration for, his best friend since they were kids, who turns his back on him and runs.

And somehow, that is not the reason the relationship has become so bitter and vile. Not because Fizzarolli, most likely believing he was going to die, watched his best friend run away and "save himself" (from Fizz's perspective), leaving him to die alone in this calamity. It's because Blitz never came to talk to him. And even then, it wasn't Blitz's fault.

While that reveal worked for Bojack and Herb, it doesn't actually work for when a character almost actually loses their life. The figurative end of the world that comes with losing a job you love and a creative passion project stolen and bastardized can not begin to amount to the physical act of dying. That is actually the entire point of Herb's story as well, why Bojack's initial betrayal is forgivable, but his avoidance was not. It's because what felt like the end of life in the moment didn't actually end anything substantial for Herb. He still lived a full and complete life, minus his best friend who left him to rebuild on his own. And you can not, in fact, make up for lost time.

Speaking of comparisons, the dialogue of this sequence in particular feels quite off-putting. Blitz's line of "You have e no idea what I lost in that fire" is accusatory and draws up a direct comparison to what each character lost. Fizzarolli is physically scarred by the events as well as mentally and emotionally. Horns are shown to be a source of social pride for imps, adding self-esteem and identity to the list of things Fizz lost in the disaster. But because it is implied that Blitz's mother actually did die in the fire, that is a tragedy somehow beyond belief for someone like Fizzarolli. It would be safe to assume that Tilla's death would have been felt by everyone who survived the circus, or at the least for the kids. The dialogue sets up a divide that somehow Blitz watching how his careless moodiness almost killed his crush is not at the top of the list of traumas Blitz has to sort through from this sequence is hard to believe.

Speaking of crush.

And that gets to why this episode as a whole fails to work on a fundamental level. For what it is, what it wants to be, and what it is trying to set up, this episode consistently drops the ball. It is confounding to think that Medrano believed that the relationship for Stolas and Blitz was for more necessary to show than this.

This episode should have been a flashback.

The entire episode should have been the lead up to the disaster. Show us the relationship of Blitz and Barbie and Fizzarolli. Show us the way Blitz is treated by others at the circus even as he ages.

Show us Tilla for five minutes for the love of everything meaningful. It's so hard to believe this should be important to the characters or story when we are given nothing concrete about who Tilla was as a person or mother. We lived the flashbacks of Bojack, no matter how short a snippet they were. We experienced Beatrice's callous nature or his father's self-centered abuse. For as important as she is implied to be, Tilla is not so important as to be an active participant in the story.

At the end of all this, I believe that the greatest issues boil down to a set list

- Characters do not have any lasting responsibility to the situation, their actions or the outcome.

- Somehow a character like Tilla who has never been seen and lacks any personality outside of early Steven Universe Rose Quartz perfection is a loss that is elevated over the trauma we are allowed to very distantly experience in Fizzarolli's monologue.

- The fact that we still have no idea about who any of these characters were to appreciate the sense of loss that this episode was supposed to supply.

- Fizzarolli and Blitz make up completely by the end of a single episode.

- The lack of buildup to the disaster causes confusion as to why it ever happens. Blitz throwing the confession letter on the ground and walking away has no rhyme or reason to it.

This episode is a literal laundry list of bad choices and poor structuring. When a school teacher writes in the margin, "Show, don't tell," this is what they are talking about.

[notallsandmen]

Blanket Permission

For @academicblorbo and @quillingwords ❤️

Now with amazing art by @quillingwords

***

I knew I should have had him neutered in 1589, Hob thought blearily, having just been yanked from a very pleasant dream and unceremoniously deposited in a mudpuddle outside the Gates of Horn and Ivory. It was apparently monsoon season in the Dreaming again — no thunderclouds this time, but the kind of thick mist of rain that seeped into your bones.

Ah. Right. He should have suspected as much.

Hob hadn’t seen or heard from Morpheus in two weeks, which wasn’t unusual. There had been some kind of diplomatic incident surrounding Thor — who was apparently a) a real, existing god, and b) an absolute moron and a sex pest harrassing all pantheons. Somehow, the latter part made it slightly easier for Hob to not descend into complete existential panic about the whole “gods are real and vaguely beneath me” bombshell Morpheus had casually dropped on him, with the disinterested tone of someone commenting on a disappointing nephew. Every academic institution had their own seemingly unfireable sex pest, so this was at least something Hob could wrap his brain around. But now, the situation had escalated into some kind of divine, eons overdue #metoo movement, and Morpheus had been asked to mediate.

(This was honestly a little rich, given Morpheus’s somewhat checkered romantic past. But, after rescuing Calliope and releasing Nada from Hell, Morpheus was at least showing a willingness to make amends, and that was a step in the right direction.)

So, when his spouse went AWOL for a few weeks, Hob didn’t worry too much.

But Morpheus’s communication style still left a lot to be desired. One recurring and particularly annoying habit was Morpheus’s passive-aggressive tendency to pluck a sleeping Hob from his dreamscape and then drop him somewhere in the Dreaming, forcing Hob to come to him, as if this was some spontaneous lunch-time visit to deliver a coffee order and a snog. Don’t get him wrong — it was bloody adorable, and Hob would do it all the time if he could, but staging this elaborate dance every time instead of just asking him for some loving attention was honestly getting a little ridiculous.

Hob could smell Mervyn’s cigar smoke before he even saw him, giving him a jaunty wave.

“How’s it going?”

“He’s that way,” Mervyn grumbled in response, not even looking up from his moat-digging, nodding his head in the direction of the balcony next to Morpheus’s private chambers.

“Cheers, mate,” Hob said, before sauntering off to collect his sulking paramour in Sulk Zone 1.

But Hob wasn’t quite ready for the sight that met him; an aching tenderness swelling in his throat to the point that he was left a little breathless.

Oh dear. Hob should have known.

Because there on the balcony sat Morpheus, in his cat form. It wasn’t even his majestic ”King of Cats” form, but a scrawny little thing: fur flattened and soaked by the rain, crouching on top of his paws, his tail twitching anxiously, making clipped, pitiful noises that indicated that he was choking down a yowl.

It was heartbreaking, and just a little bit pathetic, and Hob was taken aback by how forcefully he needed to scoop Morpheus up and hold him.

Whenever he turned up at The New Inn or Hob’s flat like this, it usually meant that Morpheus was feeling a little overwhelmed. He would curl up in Hob’s lap, magnanimously allowing himself to be petted until his frantic, self-soothing purring quieted into that of cozy contentment.

However, Hob had never seen Morpheus in his cat form in the Dreaming, before. Maintaining authority, keeping up appearances, and all that — even if Morpheus’s mood swings was probably the poorest kept secret in the realm.

Hob crouched down, reaching out his hand to carefully stir Morpheus from his woe-is-me introspection.

“Hello, darling. Feeling tiny, this morning?”

The sheer force of the needy headbonk against his knuckles was all the answer he needed.

He gazed into the huge, icy-blue eyes: Morpheus’s cat form was pretty much his only non-weepy one, but he knew that the wide-eyed tension around the eyes was the feline equivalent of tear-swollen lids.

Soon, thankfully, something soft swept over his eyes, until Morpheus was slow-blinking affectionally back at Hob.

“There we are, sweetheart. There we are.”

Right. It might be a little bit demeaning, given that they were in the Dreaming — but Hob knew that none of Morpheus’s subjects would dare disturb them, until Morpheus was ready to be seen.

And desperate times called for desperate measures.

Hob closed his eyes, focusing his mind the way Morpheus had taught him. When he opened his eyes again, he was holding a dreamstuff facsimile of the fluffy Starry Night blanket he had purchased from the giftshop after a Van Gogh exhibit, to be used for situations just like these.

Morpheus deflated somewhat, before giving him an obliging nod — a royal edict allowing Hob to tenderly wrap the blanket around him and lift him up, folding it until Morpheus was completely swaddled.

Purrito of the Endless, he thought, biting his lip so as not to show a treasonous smile.

Morpheus melted into his arms with a rumbling purr, kneading his paws into the cloudlike fabric, rubbing his cheek against the palm of Hob’s hand.

After a few seconds, he looked back up at Hob, tilting his head with a tentative, enquiring chirp.

Will you stay?

“Always, my love. I’ll always take care of you. Whatever you need.”

[destinationtrekk]

In the spirit of spooky season:

Demon!Wesker. That is all

so many ways to go with this!! need to lick his abs and biceps asap. also starting a new tag "trekk'o'ween" for any scary/spooky themed asks!

he's the result of a seriously messed up summoning ritual. you had just wanted a little revenge on your ex, nothing serious - maybe they get sick or a huge traffic citation, just enough to be really really annoying. maybe a smaller ghoul or a lesser demon easily bound could help you out.

what appeared instead though was.... not that. the demon was towering over you, broad shoulders cast in shadow from the multitude of candles scattered around your ritual site. you almost wished you had done this in the basement like everyone told you to... almost. at least then someone would have heard you scream as this Beast devoured you whole for daring to contact it.

he ends up being surprisingly friendly, if a snarky dickhead. He claims his name is Wesker, though he says it in a put-upon manner like he can't be bothered to explain his real name.

he looks (well, appears - you doubt this is anything like his real form) to be youngish, with smooth, pale skin and deep, red horns where he should have ears. his eyes glow a similar shade, like rubies reflecting off moonlight in a cavern. he has a deep voice, but it smooths over your brain like silk and leaves behind a hazy fog where your thoughts should be.

he speaks to you like you're a curious child, somehow berating and teasing you in the same sentence with his lilting accent. he sounds... almost human, like maybe he walked on earth before he died, but it's impossible to know with how he speaks in riddles - or maybe you really are as dumb as he's implying.

either way, he isn't afraid to get close to you. he's standing on the very edge of the pentagram, a fiery glow lighting up the thick muscles visible through his (actually pretty tight) leather pants and boots. why is a demon wearing leather? you have a lot of questions to ask if you make it out of this alive.

despite every instinct telling you to end the ritual and run out of this forest as fast as possible, his half-lidded eyes and fangs poking out of his smirk ask you otherwise. he's intimidating, downright terrifying, but something about him makes you creep closer with every word. suddenly, you look down, and realize what a grave mistake you've made.

the chalk is smudged where your toes nearly meet his. you must have scuffed it as he enticed you closer. dread wells up in your stomach like a plugged drain, and as panic stutters your breath you look up, up, up-

he's definitely taller now, eyes wide with mania and a devastating smile splitting his handsome face. you have half a second to step back before the candles are blown out, and the chase begins.

[lathbora-virann]

I know other people will probably have made more in-depth posts about "those across the sea", but after reading this brilliant old post by @felassan about the Executors and possible Ghilan'nain/Mythal and even Andraste connections, my sleep-deprived brain is wondering:

1) Were the kossith originally ancient elves? And

2) Are the Executors kossith (or possibly working for them)?

This got longer than I intended, so under the cut!

We don't have confirmation yet if the kossith were one specific race that became the Qunari race of horned giants, or instead a cultural group of different races that largely became followers of the Qun, and I think you could make arguments for either of those that would still fit this idea.

We all know the theories about the origins of the Qunari race being a merging of elves and dragons - potentially through excessively drinking their blood, potentially a Ghilan'nain experiment, potentially something else. If some of the ancient elves changed or evolved into kossith/Qunari, that would tie in with why concept art Abelas has horns (multiple like the Qunari in DA2) and very scaly armor:

The first time both kossith and Qunari were seen in Thedas is when they landed from across the sea - at complete opposite ends of the known world. The kossith landed in the southern Korcari Wilds (the southern-most part of the current map) and (a millennium later) the Qunari landed on Par Vollen (the northern-most part of the current map) from the north.

The Qunari are said to have come from an eastern land across the Boeric Ocean which was likely the land of the kossith as well, and according to Iron Bull the stories suggest they left their homeland because they had to - but no one knows why. He also says that whoever they were, he doesn't think that the kossith looked much like modern day Qunari (which is obviously just stated as his opinion, but they added it in for a reason).

The Executors are representatives who speak "on behalf of powers across the sea", presumably from beyond the Amaranthine and Boeric Oceans. Varric wrote in Hard in Hightown that they were behind the assassination of Queen Madrigal in 5:99 - but with no clear indication where he got the idea from as it's never mentioned anywhere else. If this has any basis in truth, however, it means that they have been operating for at least hundreds of years (and Felassan's post goes into lots more fun detail).

The symbol of the Executors is an inverted triangle with two horizontal wavy lines across it. Both symbols are heavily used in Solas' murals - with the upside down triangles appearing to represent the Veil and the wavy lines lyrium, though in this context probably the sea (the direction of the lines seems to maybe changes what they represent). It makes me wonder if the kossith were a group physically distant and cut off from the rest of Elvhenan and Arlathan, and thus impacted differently by the Veil going up. Maybe they weren't devastated by it and were able to survive and form their own society.

In our real world the inverted triangle symbol has historically represented the element of water, as well as feminine energy and *the womb* which have all been associated with Ghilan'nain (as well as those wavy lines). Additionally, an inverted triangle with a single line through it is the real world symbol for the element of earth - and also feminine energy.

As noted in Felassan's post above, in Tevinter Nights it's stated that the Executor attending the meeting smelled of the ocean which should not have escaped the notice of anyone who also read Horror of Hormak in the same book as being *probably brought up for a reason*. They also take great pains to hide their appearance and their voice - or maybe they just naturally sound incredibly ambiguous and unknowable...

So if the Executors are (or are working for) the kossith, and if the kossith were indeed the result of Ghilan'nain's experimentation on ancient elves, does that mean that they are her creations that she spared because (we assume) Solas stopped her?

"On the second day she drowned the giants of the sea, except those in deep waters, for they were too well-wrought, and Pride stopped her hand."

If those creations were indeed sentient beings, it makes sense that Mr believes in the "inherent right of all free-willed people to exist" would stop her from exterminating them so that they could live free. And if many of those people later went on to join a religion and culture that pigeonholes people in a very rigid, unforgiving, unquestioning way, it would add an extra layer as to why he's so opposed to that religion in present day.

If this is in fact the connection, does that mean that the Executors work for Ghilan'nain? Or do they hate and oppose her for what she did to them?

They clearly know things that Solas doesn't want shared, and he thinks that they're dangerous enough to petrify one before they can do so. But was this because they're on Ghilan'nain's side, or because they thought he was going to release her again and they absolutely wanted to stop him from doing that? The Executors apparently don't care about Solas' true nature, only about his goals and means of accomplishing them.

Finally, if the Inquisitor sides with Cullen and chooses to ignore the symbols being left all over their outposts by agents of the Executors, three of those outposts are found abandoned with the following message:

"Thedas's present troubles are great, but you have the strength to meet and conquer them. More will come. We prepare for the day and hold vigil. Do not look for your men; do not mourn them. They have given themselves of their own free will to a higher cause."

The last line of that quote opens up a lot of new questions. It certainly sounds very evanuris-y, but it could arguably also sound very Qunari. Given everything we know of Ghilan'nain and the evanuris though, I'm leaning more to that side and a potential perversion or manipulation of that free will. Or maybe they're all Cekorax creatures and all of this is moot.

There's no way the Executors don't show up in Veilguard, especially after the line if you side with Leliana: "for the moment, we are not your enemy". However they do I assume we'll have to fight them in some capacity, so I just hope to god they're given some complexity and nuance.

This is all just throwing spaghetti at the wall and I have no clear conclusion, but I want to know what other people think! I am but a caterpillar on a leaf that does not know there is a forest about her.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Choose Your Own Adventure; Imp Style 4

(Previous Post Here)

Unsure of how to proceed, you peep pathetically up at the two ghouls; If you were more dexterous, you might have done little grabby hands to insist upon being picked up, but your paws don't allow for much expression.

The larger of the ghouls places a careful hand under your chest and another on your back to pick you up in a somewhat awkward hamburger style grapple before moving you to rest against their chest.

They let you squirm a bit until you get comfortable, and you huff a tired sigh that makes your whole body deflate.

You've worn yourself out, but at the very least this ghoul is warm, and when they move their free hand to scratch your back, you melt into them.

You prop your head so you can peer up at their face with half-lidded eyes.

"Are you going to keep 'em?" the younger asks, and you startled slightly when the older's voice rumbles your body slightly, low and deep.

"Mn, maybe, I've never had an imp before." they say with a noncommittal hum, "They didn't appear much during early summonings because of the danger involved but... Hm. That does make me wonder where you came from."

The hand scratching your back moves to rub between your horns.

You purr softly, tiny paws kneading the fabric of the ghoul's shirt, but startle slightly when the other leans over to give you a sniff.

"...Huh."

"What?"

"The residue from the summoning ritual... it's... It smells a lot like chips?"

"Chips?"

"Chips. For real, give them a smell, Omega."

You meep indignantly as you're shifted from your comfortable position and held under the ghoul's -Omega's- nose.

"...Either you stuffed yourself in a chip bag before you made your way here, or someone managed to summon an imp with Doritios..." you meep again, embarrassed, little tail swaying back and forth in agitation, "...It's both of those things, isn't it?"

"...That's a pretty good name though." the younger says after a moment, "You should name them that, if you keep them."

"Chips?" Omega stares down at you, and you stare back hopeful, "...Yeah."

"Yeah??" The other chirps excitedly.

"Yeah, okay, you're Chips then." he says, bouncing you slightly before letting you settle back down, "...Are you sure you don't want them, Aeon?"

"Nahh, there's already so many imps roaming around the dorms... I also think Dewdles and Drizzle are territorial so..."

"Somehow I'm not surprised."