#bard you old rascal

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Salome!

"La Belle Dame sans Mercy" ("The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy") - A ballad by John Keats

"The poem is about a fairy who condemns a knight to an unpleasant fate after she seduces him with her eyes and singing." please

This screams Knight!König x Fairy!Reader to me.

I just know König would gladly die by the hand of such an ethereal being.

"She looked at me as she did love, and made a sweet moan."

"And sure in language strange she said—'I love thee true.'"

That’s it. Thank you.

I swear this artwork kills me everytime I see it....

Ok this became the silliest fairytale ever 🩷✨️

CW: Historical AU blending with mythical/supernatural AU. König being a dreamy mess of a knight who doesn't fit in "normal" society. Reader is part of faefolk. Heavy Arthurian Romance vibes.

König returns to the castle one day. The son of a great liege lord, a warrior through and through, but some people say he should’ve been a poet: so dreamily he looks beyond the battlements at times, sighs after drinking too much wine, stares off into dark corners of the room while tending to his sword and armour as if he can see little pixies dancing there.

His siblings sometimes hit him on the back of his head, or wave a hand over his eyes when he’s about to slip into the fairy world, a forgotten plane that is not supposed to reach the castle. But the castle stones were taken from the moors and the woods, the old land not bending to the priest’s will no matter how many crosses they brought here. Fragile souls are wanton prey for the elves and the fairies who would take them to their land the moment they drop down their guard, and only prayer and fasting hold them at bay. In the fairylands, there is no toil or sorrow; the food is golden honey and wine, the dance and love everlasting, and the fae girls more beautiful than any human maid.

It sounded too good to be true, and it was: God had created men to work and women to give birth, and all the land was theirs to use and cultivate, it was not made to simply run and frolic upon. Some say that these were just old tales and that Christ would banish these creatures away, turn the land to yielding crops and tame firewood.

But some still believed.

When he was a child, the mighty son of the feared lord took porridge and almonds to the woods. “For the fairy people,” he said with bright, trusting eyes. Stole food from under the mistress’s nose, and no one ever dared to say anything about it.

But when this nonsense carried on to adulthood, people had to intervene. There was work to be done, war, harvest and building, and no matter how many coins this man paid to the visiting bards, it would never turn their stories true.

His arm was strong and his strike was true, but his head seemed to be filled with dandelion wine, even when he hadn’t been drinking. Sighed after this maiden or that, wished to travel to foreign lands, courted every nobleman’s daughter who visited the castle, but no one ever took him seriously.

This man had to watch how lady after lady chose some other valiant knight as their husband, some men whose heads were not filled with fairytales and dreams. They did flirt with him, for who could’ve resisted the temptation of making this giant a little sweaty under all that armor? Armor that demanded plate for two people, and a smith who had the talent to forge such a beastly thing.

Nevertheless, he was always left without a warm embrace, and so he was usually found outside, looking at the full moon or spending time in taverns, choosing the company of thieves and rascals over his serious kin.

And now he has returned from the woods, having been gone for months.

People thought he had finally left to fight for some other lord, posing as a simple footsoldier, a disguise that would relieve him of his tedious duties as a knight. Or to court some “lovely peasant girl” he always talked about – such talks were usually crushed by his father, demanding him to be sensible for once in his life.

But he doesn’t prattle about peasant girls now, nor does he ramble about screaming ships at the bottom of the sea. He doesn’t hold a speech about forgotten stone circles in the forest, the ones that already grow moss. No, he has finally lost it completely.

His eyes are wild, as is his hair; his armour is nowhere to be seen, and his sword is without its sheath. He doesn’t talk about what he saw in that forest to anyone, nor is he willing to tell where he has even been these past few moons.

He seems very shaken when he’s told they were worried he wouldn’t make it to the May Day feast, and asks for how long he was gone, drives a hand through dishevelled hair when he hears that he was away for three full months.

“Three months…” he mutters to himself, then leaves to his room, the huge sword dragging against the stone floor as he goes. He has always, always made sure it wouldn’t dull, but now he’s treating it like it’s become a part of him, confused and lost.

He doesn’t eat, hardly speaks after that.

The food tastes like ash, he says, and the ale tastes like bile. But the following evening, when his mother orders someone to pour her poor son some more wine, he looks up helplessly like a child.

“I have to go back,” he says.

A clamour arises, huffed exclaims of “What on earth is he on about” and “Sir, you only just got back!” His father rises from his chair and orders him to stop this nonsense at once. But this time, there is no embarrassed sweep of hand through hair, no red colour that rises on this peculiar knight’s cheeks. His lips only make a thin line before he rises as well and leaves the hall with a weight on his shoulders and dark determination in his stare.

At the stables, a stout Moorland pony and poor stable boy get to witness the drunken bawls of a forlorn knight. The wine sack almost slips from his hands to the dirt as he slumps against the timber of the stall, distorted face coming to rest against a wide, shaky palm.

Luckily, a friend of his knows where to look, and the stable boy sneaks into the shadows, slightly scared of the sorrow of such a big, intimidating man.

But even the companion who always listened to every enthusiastic story since they were kids and ran across the moors, throwing little rocks at his father’s soldiers and laughing when their helmets made a funny clinky sound, can not understand the drunken babble that comes out of König’s mouth this time.

He starts from the middle, which is highly unusual, and talks in strings of sentences that don’t make sense. “She was real, I just know it,” he repeats, over and over again in the middle of confessions about how beautiful she was, how her hair was like the softest spun yarn, her body incredible, naked and wild when she came to him. That her laugh was like the chime of little bells or the sound of the loveliest harp, a song on its own when she walked to him.

She was fascinated with his sword, especially the pommel and the handle interested her, and the curve in the middle of the blade she brushed with her fingers as if it was an entire vale.

He had never seen a woman touch his sword like that… They were never interested in such things, but she was, and she asked him so many questions.

Had he ever felled a tree?

Did he like squirrels?

Were his thighs as hairy as his chest?

She took him down the river, or he followed her; he can’t remember. Her step was so light it didn’t make a sound, and the moss seemed to turn brighter every time her little foot stepped on it. Her hands were tiny too when she wrapped them around his neck, pressed her body against his, and kissed him until there was nothing left of him: no helmet, no sword, nothing but sun and her, her hands and her lips.

Her mouth was still on his when she whispered she didn’t like his armour because it was so hard and rigid and cold, oh, she wondered if there was a man inside there at all.

So of course he showed her.

She giggled at the sight of him, especially his thighs, knelt down on the moss to see how hairy they were.

And would you believe the way she touched him then? It makes him heady even now…

Yes, he took her. But not the way a man takes a woman. She came to straddle him and laughed again, and the things they did together… He can’t even speak about them, but he knows the sun always shined when they rolled on the grass. Her giggles and moans surrounded him, her soft little thighs were stronger than they looked, her breasts so round and soft, so perfect he swore he had gone to heaven.

He bathed in her, with her, all day long. And the nights… You wouldn’t believe the nights: there was song and dance and more giggling women, and also a man dressed all in leaves, so big and thick he first thought he was a tree. An old king, she said, nothing he should worry about. And the wine tasted like summer and honey and gold; it was red, perhaps, but also like sea amber and sun…

She fed him flowers and laughed, caressed his face and said he’s the biggest and hairiest human she had ever seen. She let him lick honey from her fingertips and caressed him with heather and ivy, opened her mouth before feeding him a soft, sweet piece of cake, showing him how he needed to open his mouth as well if he wanted it on his tongue.

She kissed the crumbs from his lips and trailed a finger down his chest, all the way down, until…

Oh, he can’t talk about it.

It was better than he ever even imagined: better than the stories they tell in the taverns. It was like his wedding night, over and over again, it was like he was Lancelot, and she was his Guinevere.

No, no, she was not an enchantress, although everything about her was enchanting... All the stories came alive with her, even the moon was bigger than anywhere he’d ever seen, the deers ran past them while they made love, and the birds sang even at night.

He told her he loved her, but she didn’t know what it meant. When he explained it to her, she looked at him gently, so gently…

He cried from joy then, but she never mocked him. She only said it’s a sign that he’s hers. That he will never forget her. She said he’ll always find her, even when he’s old: she will make him young again. He’s welcome here if he wants: she has so many places to show him.

He thanked all the saints for having found her, Saint George and Saint Mary first, but stopped when her little brows furrowed with sorrow. Her eyes, filled with starlight and love, turned so sad that his heart couldn’t bear it, not for one beat.

The sea is far wilder here: he should come and see the ocean as it was at the dawn of time. The ivy is so strong you can use it to climb the trees and see the whole world from atop the tree, the whole land, covered in forest, such as it was before humans came. There’s no smoke or fire or war: just green everywhere, wild rippling streams and honey bees and berries and fish for everyone who ever feels hungry... They can make love day and night, and she’ll teach him all the songs of old. Humans only remember bits and pieces, but she knows how things really happened, she can tell him everything about heroes, kings and queens.

She said she wanted to sleep, and so he took her from the feast and laid her on the grass… She might’ve sung to him, he can’t remember, but it was like an angel’s caress all over him, somber and sweet before the dreams took him, a dream within a dream.

He slept for ages, it seemed, saw so many dreams, each more beautiful than the last until he woke up and saw that the forest had turned grey.

There was no maiden in his lap, no dance and song in the distance, no scent of flowers and dreams and springs to be found. The sun was up in the sky, but it didn’t paint all the colours with gold or fill the streams with light. The forest was half dead to him, just old, thick trees around him, a green-grey forest floor and a shaggy squirrel who chirped and squeaked at him as if it was his fault that the fae folk were gone.

He searched for her, called for her, but she didn’t answer, and how could she have? He didn’t even know her name. He only knew how lovely she felt, how soft her hair was when it fell to cover him like a veil, how adorable her sighs and tiny little gasps were when he filled her, over and over again.

His armour was nowhere to be found, and his sword was somewhere downstream, half covered with leaves and dirt, rusty and beaten by the wind. It was early spring when he came here; the land was still barren and grey, but now, everything was green. Still, it was not the green he wanted. It was not the green that filled his vision entirely, bright, blooming green that pulsed with lush joy. It was just… earth and grass and dirt.

So you see, he has to go back. He has to find her, whatever it takes. She promised he could always come back… She promised…

He cries once more, head bowed and mighty shoulders trembling from the force of his sorrow, and it is no use to tell him that the fae folk are evil. That they’re from the Devil and only want to make good, decent men like them forget. Forget their duty, their laws, their Christ.

It’s no use to tell him that it is not natural, the place he has seen. No doubt he has been somewhere, but it cannot be anything good… No man can survive on flowers and spring water for three months; they cannot frolic with the faeries for days on end without losing their mind and soul.

And König is already lost; he was lost since he was a child, rambling about how he received flowers, sticks and stones as tokens of the faefolk’s gratitude because he brought them food.

He tries to tell the boy who never grew up, the mightiest man in this kingdom, the dreamiest knight there ever was, that he needs to return to the real world. No fae woman would have him as a husband, they are only after his soul. But surely some human lady would take him into her bed, think about it, for God’s sake, please... He has duties here, people who love him, his father would make him a lord if he only put himself together. What kind of knight would abandon his sword, helmet and armour for the sake of an elf who despises the saints...?

But in the morn, König is gone.

His rusty sword is on the floor, the wooden cross taken off the wall. There lies a honeycomb and a flower on his window, a blossom so sweet it cannot be plucked from any field around here. Too exotic and bright, especially when placed atop the rough, grey stones, it looks like it could never wither from how beautifully it blooms.

The peasants now tell a tale of a man that haunts the woods: a huge giant dressed all in green, donning a leaf cloak of some sort and a beard that grows ivy. But they say he is not evil: he only shows himself to hunters who are about to fall a deer, or children who remember the land with little gifts.

Old men say they saw a green man when they were kids and brought bread and milk to the faeries, they swear to this day they saw a man who greeted them with a smile. And when they looked again, there was nothing but a tree where this giant stook, a young oak, sighing with the wind...

[zarvasace]

Pathfinder Chain 2.0

Masterpost

In which the LU boys are interpreted as having lived their lives and adventures in Golarion, as seen in Pathfinder 2e. Post/Mid-Godsrain. Will include art (mostly for character designs) and fic (specifically Febuwhump 2025.)

For some context in case you are unaware: Pathfinder is similar to Dungeons & Dragons, in which characters have numbers and you roll dice. It is generally played with a group of people each with their own character, but here I'm giving them all the numbers and using them as a basis for fic. It is a high-magic setting built on a foundation of Tolkien-inspired fantasy.

First appearance: Jan 8, 2025

Tag: #pathfinder chain (old designs use this tag, as well)

Previous Pathfinder Chain post, with old art.

Main fic series on AO3

My previous Pathfinder Chain was made attempting to model the existing characters in the game as closely as possible, so we saw a lot of rangers and fighters and really only the one spellcaster (two, if we're counting Shadow.) These new character sheets have a different philosophy in mind, one that attempts to put the characters in the existing Pathfinder world and mesh their stories and gods with the lore. By that logic, there are more spellcasters, and I'm attempting to indulge the high-magic kitchen-sink god-bothered fantasy feel with these designs and stories. I'm very happy with them so far!! I'm planning to talk about the designs here, mostly, and reveal story details in fics.

In the update from 1.0 to 2.0, some of my decisions about ancestry and class changed, but plenty stayed the same. I've actually created character sheets this time, however, so I'm very excited to talk at length about those. :) For anyone interested in learning more about my choices, asks are open, and so is 2e.aonprd.com, the free, licensed online database of Pathfinder rules. I’m using Free Archetype and they’re all level 5.

Without further ado, may I happily present my second-version Pathfinder Chain, to be updated as I complete details and show you all the art that I'm working on!—

Four - halfling aiuvarin, artisan, thief rogue, ancestors oracle

Hyrule - sprite ganzi, nomad, phoenix bloodline sorceror, living vessel

Legend - elf beastkin, free spirit, thaumaturge (wand/weapon), sleepwalker

Sky - songbird strix, chosen one, exemplar, fighter

Time - human changeling, feybound, warrior muse bard, chronoskimmer

Twilight - awakened wolf, farmhand, untamed order druid, curse maelstrom

Warriors - keen-venom vishkanya, guard, commander, medic

Wild - human duskwalker, amnesiac, dragon instinct barbarian, wandering chef

Wind - azarketi sylph, sailor, rascal swashbuckler, air kineticist

All intro posts complete as of 1/15/25

[lanternlightss]

hey do u ever think that the old mondstadt gang would sometimes (affectionately) bully nb about his age and build but then they remember that he’s (probably) the leader of the rebellion and the one who ignited the fire of the revolution in old mondstadt? like i’m telling this to u bc this video on tiktok reminded me of it

here’s the link: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSYXhhoGw/

i’m starting to imagine an art idea where nb does the king baldwin raised hand pose and the others are bowing to him while the caption says “when your friends are bullying you but then you remind them that you took down their god”

idk i thought this was kinda fun lmao (i need someone to draw this)

LMAOOO THAT’D BE SO SILLY

i feel like the red haired warrior would do it the most, and that gradually pulls the others in. nameless bard trying to suggest something and rhw just sighs solemnly and goes, “well, when i was your height—” while bard just sits there like. amused and annoyed. waiting for everyone to come to the realization. yeah? what did you do at my height? sir, need i remind you that not just yesterday i put you flat on your back in a spar? need i remind you ,, of that one fight against the god,,,, whom majority of my plans (oh, but not to discredit all of your efforts!) worked for?? hmmm???

imagine this would be in a everyone lives? because that would be So Funny. bard lightly scratching at the scars he received from said battle just! yes! and do go on about this “little runt of a rascal,” as you so affectionately say! my my, it’s almost like you forgot who shielded you :( who was by your side :( and then it turns into the others teasing each other bc oh right. yeah. small but mighty bard.

(ALSO THAT SOUNDS LIKE SUCH A HILARIOUS ART PIECE LMAO. the others would so humor him in bowing. oh your majesty, forgive us, for all the comments of your stature! and bard is just humming and awing…. only if you do this one thing for me—maybe a drink or asking them to review a song, perhaps—then i’ll forgive you!)

[razzberrydazz]

More Isekai BG3 Ideas

Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy get tadpoled and bicker like an old married couple about helping people. Harley wants to help the tiefling kids because she has a soft spot for little rascals and Ivy high-key sees Kagha's point and is down to help the shadow druids but Harley said no to that, people matter and these people need help, Ivy insists it's not their job to help them but there Harley goes jumping into the fray to beat up some goblins. But she'd spare Minthara specifically because she's hot. You know, as you do. Ivy being a spore druid who doesn't wild shape and instead uses her plant powers for everything. Harley is a multiclass, I think she'd make a great fighter/rogue/bard because she likes to hit things and steal things and use her attractiveness to get what she wants.

[queen-of-meows]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you @insert-witty-user-name-here for tagging me. Today I posted the new chapter of The Little Bard's Tale, but I've also been working (ahem procrastinating ) on a Blade Runner AU rewrite of S1 for an upcoming server collab.

Here's a little snippet of it !

Mobius hadn't changed at all since Loki had last seen him in person, five years ago. His little mustache was still trimmed in the exact same way and his grey hair was perfectly combed on the side. So much stability almost felt pathological, but it was how things went at the Agency. Mobius used to joke time passed differently there, and maybe there was a kernel of truth.

“You needed to talk to me about a case, I think” Loki prompted after a long silence.

Mobius chewed his pie and Loki waited for him to swallow so he could get an answer.

“Yeah. But I'm afraid I cannot talk here” the agent replied, giving a sideway look to the people around us.

“Of course” Loki said.

Years later, he would still wonder if Mobius had chosen this place randomly or if it had been part of a test. But if he suspected anything about the cashier, he didn't let anything show.

“All I can say is that it's something big. The future of Asgardia might depend on it.”

“Is it that important ?” Loki was feeling a bit alarmed all of a sudden.

“Yeah, I might be blowing the problem out of proportion. But if things went sideway, the public opinion might be shattered for good. And we all know how it went for Tyrell Corporation.”

Suddenly, an apprehension fell on Loki like a wave of cold water.

“If you think my ties to the big shots of Asgardia can help you in any way, I'd rather stop you immediately. I haven't talked to my dad in years and look at me, I'm just your run-of-the-mill unemployed loser from sector 4. Really, you won't get any intel from me. I haven't learned one juicy gossip since I was a fourteen years old little rascal spying on my dad.”

Mobius laughted wholeheartedly.

“Don't worry, I am very aware of your complete lack of influence. What I need you for is your intellect. A brain like yours is a once in a decade occurance at least. And more important, I need my friend back.”

“In that case, maybe I can do it. Like in the old days.”

[iwa-ch4n]

kaeya as a dad;

no listen kaeya is such a soft dad you don't understand

he's not one to cry much, especially not from happiness, but it came close the first time he held his baby girl. you could see his eyes get watery and his voice crack a little when he cooed at her

he's actually captivated by her. even when she's sleeping peacefully in the cot beside your bed, he will just lay there and stare at her with this sappy smile until he finally passes out

KING of calming the baby down. his voice is soothing and his arms are comfortable, he can stop her crying in minutes unless she want to be breast fed

however he will inform you that she's hungry by saying "babe, the child wants boobs"

super super super good at playing with her. tickles her loads and when she gets older he is strong enough to just. let her climb all over him or throw her in the air effortlessly (you get nervous every time but trust him, he's got it under control. he has not dropped the child once yet)

she has no choice but to be an absolute daddys girl. he would give the world for her and spoils her fucking rotten. her first word was "papa" and that time he did cry

okay he would absolutely call her dumb nicknames similar to what people call their cats. 'stinky', 'little devil' and 'rascal' are all very common. once when she was like 6 months old she threw up on him and he called her a bastard out of instinct. you heard, which is why it was only once

okay no but imagine kaeya has a day off so he takes her for a day out in mondstadt and its just. so fuckin cute. ice cream from good hunter, splashing in the fountain, popping in to angels share to annoy diluc, who doesnt want to swear or get too mad bc there is a child

as much as he is amazing at taking care of her, you're with her most of the time because he has a lot of work to do with the knights. however, if she ever completely wears you out, he will insist on taking her to work with him and letting you have a day for yourself.

that's how he ends up at a very important captains meeting with a toddler on his knee, bouncing her up and down and making her little origami animals to keep her occupied and relatively quiet

its also how the new recruits working under him go to speak to their rather intimidating boss and go into his office to find him on the floor with her giggling on top of him and yanking at his ponytail

he would absolutely have play fights with her, using sticks as swords, and let her win, falling dramatically to the ground and groaning in defeat

he's become even more of a babysitting pro for klee now so he is more than happy to look after both at once. klee is an amazing big sister but you have to watch them all closely just so kaeya doesnt allow any bombs around your two year old

HE TAKES HER TO ANGEL'S SHARE WHEN ITS STILL RELATIVELY EARLY AND DANCES WITH HER TO THE SONGS THE BARDS SING (then he takes her home and goes back on his own to get drunk)

whenever he puts her to bed, instead of reading her bedtime stories, he will tell her stories of his various adventures and whatever (which are greatly edited to be more child appropriate and then embellished so they're still interesting)

i absolutely think she would look up to him lots and when she gets older he would start training her properly because she wants to be able to fight just like him

jousting with wooden swords and he lets her win less often now, but she's a fast learner and becomes pretty damn skilled for her age

you have to be hard on her sometimes because he absolutely will not. he's too whipped for her. could never say no to her. you absolutely come home sometimes to find him squeezed into a tutu skirt with kids makeup and a tiara, sitting at her little play table having a tea party

also they have the conversation "daddy, can i have a cookie" "what's the rule?" ":(( no cookies until after dinner" "no, thats mums rule. my rule is to bring me one too"

he just all around loves her so much and sometimes he'll just be watching her and turn to you and be like "hey do you want to make another one of these?". its up to you to figure out whether he's been hit with soft dad feels or if he's just horny

all in all he spoils her and is an amazing dad and i love him so much

tag; @kaeya-alberich-official

[cloudenthusiast2]

You bring home a new pet - Genshin x reader - Part 2

Character: Venti

Length: ~1500 words

Genre: total fluff

Venti went home absolutely shattered.

He spent his entire day singing his heart and lungs out, constantly trying to get people to listen to him. Mondstadt was full off many talented bards, no wonder it was so exhausting to make money with busking.

His shoulders that seemed so young but were so old bent under the great weight he was carrying. The sun has almost completely disappeared from the sky but the street lights still weren’t on. The town was dark and misty.

Normally Venti would’ve been sitting in Angel’s share by now, drinking all his painfully collected money away. But today he was unusually self-aware. He was too tired to pretend even to himself he was okay, and he knew that going drinking would be the stupidest thing to do.

He felt a little guilty. Not because of himself, rather because of you. He knew he didn’t exactly treat you right, drinking so much and barely spending time with you. The way you tried to hide your disappointment and sadness when you saw him drunk or hungover broke his heart every time.

It would be good to just go home and see you.

He turned left to the familiar little street. In that exact moment the street lights lit up, showing the way in front of him. You rented a house in the cheapest area possible but it was still nice and pretty.

Just a bit too many cats…

Venti rose his elbow in the last moment before he sneezed.

‘Bless you.’

He got startled by the sudden voice that came out of nowhere. He jumped, then pressed his hands on his pounding heart. He glanced at the elderly lady sitting on the steps of her house. She was silently laughing at him.

‘Please be careful, nanny, you almost made my heart explode’ Venti said jokingly, letting out a long sigh.

‘Eh, I did the same to many men in the past’ the granny answered, her mouth curving into a cheeky smile. ‘Get in the line.’

‘Oh, I sure will’ Venti winked at her.

‘You’re one hopeless lad’ the granny shook her head.

Venti was about to reply with something playful but the urge to sneeze interrupted him.

‘Cat allergy?’ the old lady asked after he finished an intense sneezing session with tears in his turquoise eyes. She seemed sympathetic. ‘My husband had it too, bless him.’

‘It’s a real curse.’ Venti agreed. ‘I like cats for they’re exemplary in enjoying their freedom, but I can’t be with one in the same area.’

‘Then why did your girlfriend get one?’

‘Sorry?’ Venti blinked.

‘Your girlfriend. She passed by an hour ago, holding a cat. She said she’s going to keep it as a pet.’

‘A- a cat?’ Venti stared at the old lady. ‘But… Wait, how did you know I have a girlfriend? Do you know me?’

‘Of course, you’re that naughty bard who keeps singing love songs from my grandma’s time when he’s drunk’ the granny laughed. ‘Your girlfriend likes to keep me company sometimes as well. I’m more surprised you have no idea about me although we’re neighbors.’

‘I’m embarrassed’ Venti chuckled awkwardly.

‘As you should be’ the old lady nodded. ‘Little rascal.’

‘Say, granny…’ Venti hesitated then shook his head. ‘Never mind. I gotta get home.’

‘Yes, hurry up and go. When the sun is down, it’s better to be at home in your lovers’ arms.’

Venti grinned and waved goodbye to the social old lady. But when he turned away, the smile quickly faded away and he couldn’t hide his worried expression any more.

You knew about his allergy. Then why did you get a cat?!

He knew you loved cats. You asked him to get one in the past. He also knew you were afraid of dogs so this pet was not an option either, that’s why you didn’t have any. But now… now you got one.

Have you finally had enough… and maybe even fallen out of love with him?

He was busy cursing himself as he ran towards your little house. Of course you’d replace him with a cat! Cats are a thousand times better than him. They don’t drink, they don’t need to be collected in the middle of the night from an inn, they don’t cost that much to keep and are still great friends…

He was panting when he finally reached the door. He felt like his lungs disappeared and he couldn’t breathe any more, while his heart continued to ache in worry. He burst into the house.

‘Y/n!’ he yelled immediately. ‘Where are you, dear?’

‘Venti!’

Much to his surprise, the voice shouting back was not angry or cold. It was scared.

‘Vent, help me!’

‘Where are you?!’

His concerns about the cat and your relationship all disappeared in a matter of a second as he turned panicked. All he knew now was that you were in trouble and that he must help.

‘In the bedroom!’

He was there in a second, breaking the door in. He stumbled into the room, searching for you with wide-open eyes.

‘Y/n…’

‘I’m here!’ you sobbed.

Venti came there decidedly to rescue you. He was so worried and panicked that something hurt you.

But when he actually laid his eyes on you, he couldn’t move an inch. He just stood there frozen, staring at the scene in front of him.

You were crouching on the top of your wardrobe. You were in tears, shaking and crying.

Under you, on the hardwood floor there was a… dog. A really small dog.

‘What’s happening’ Venti quietly said to himself. But he couldn’t answer, you were the one to yell again.

‘I can’t get down! It will bite me! I’m so scared, please help me!’

The dog turned around for the first time and looked up to study Venti. It was brown, tiny and had a really friendly face. It seemed like he has already decided he likes the bard because he started an intense tail-wagging session and ran towards the boy.

‘You see?’ you sobbed hysterically as if the warm welcome was a sign of the animal being a bloodthirsty beast.

Venti was still dumbstruck. He stared at the dog who rose on its hind legs, putting its front paws on the bard’s calf.

But Venti could never be surprised for too long. He got back to his usual witty self as soon as he could finally catch a breath.

‘I thought you got a cat’ he looked up to you who was still sitting on the top of the wardrobe. He had to clear this matter before anything else, now that he knew you were actually okay.

‘A cat?’ you asked through your tears. ‘Why would I get a cat when you’re allergic to them? I obviously didn’t!’

‘Then why did that granny say she saw you carrying a cat this day, my love?’

‘It must’ve been a misunderstanding, I swear! I adopted a dog!’

‘And now you’re on the top of the drawer’ he summarized.

‘Y-yes.’

‘Then why did you think it would be a good idea to…’

‘Get one? I thought that maybe if I’m… not enough now, maybe a pet would make you stay at home more.’

His eyes widened and stared in disbelief. You wiped your tears away.

‘Help me down, please’ you asked quietly.

‘No.’

This time it was you who blinked in surprise.

‘No…? Are you angry at me?’

‘I’m more angry at myself, don’t worry at love’ he reassured you. ‘But I’ll only help you get down if you revoke your previous words.’

‘That I adopted a dog?’

‘No, silly. That you’re not enough for me.’

You closed your mouth and studied his face for a while. It was one of those rare moments when he didn’t try to pretend he was okay and he actually let you see him sad. He didn’t try to smile or joke about it. He seemed genuine.

‘So you do love me’ you whispered.

‘I do, dear’ he promised. ‘And I’m gonna make sure to show that more often from now on.’

‘No more drunk nights?’ you asked. He gulped but strengthened himself and nodded.

‘I’ll try.’

‘Okay’ you answered, your voice cracking. ‘That’s enough for now. I love you.’

‘I know’ Venti chuckled. He closed his eyes for a moment, to get his balance back because he felt like the room was spinning with him. Then he bent down and grabbed the dog who was desperate for attention. He lifted it and stared into its friendly eyes. ‘And what am I gonna do with you now, buddy?’

‘Do you want to keep it?’ came the question from the drawer’s direction.

‘Not if it’s gonna make you climb furniture all the time’ he declared with a growing smile.

‘I’ll get myself together’ you promised. ‘You can also teach me how to deal with it and I’m sure I’ll learn not to be afraid of it.’

‘Good idea’ he nodded and gently hugged the animal. It was so small, he could understand why the nanny mistook it for a cat.

Venti turned around and started walking away.

‘Hey!’ you let out a scared yell. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To the kitchen’ he replied with a mischievous grin. ‘I gotta feed the dog.’

‘And who’s gonna let me down?’ you panicked but then quickly turned annoyed. ‘Venti, are you serious? You’ve just promised to treat me better!’

‘Alright, alright, I’m just joking, love’ he laughed and turned back to you. He put the dog on the bed and rose his arms to get you. ‘Now, don’t look at your beloved like that!’

You were growling as he helped you down from the top of the drawer. But as soon as he pulled you into a tight hug, all your anger disappeared without any trace.

You buried your face into his soft clothes. Venti laid his head on the top of yours and closed his eyes, finally getting to breathe more easily. He felt like entire rock fell off his heart in your embrace.

He couldn’t have been happier that he went home early that night.

[eversleepyriver]

I’ll Make This Feel Like Home

~fandom: genshin impact~

~characters: Lumine, Kaeya Alberich, Diluc Ragnvindr, Thoma, Sucrose~

~genre: fluff, pure fluff~

~tw: none?~

~summary: One of Sucrose’s friends moved away, and was never heard from again… she was dejected, sure, but she had Mister Albedo and the Knights now, right?~

~link to AO3~

~A/N: Hi hi hi!!! So a friend of mine has this theory that Thoma is one of Sucrose’s old friends and so I’m writing the reunion fic we will probably never have in canon. They really liked it so i hope you do too!

The traveller did it. How? Who actually knows at this point? They’ve defeated gods and save entire nations, so it was both a surprise and not a surprise at all to learn that the Shogun was finally repealing the Sakoku Decree, the one restricting any and all change to enter or leave Inazuma.

To put it lightly, Thoma was very excited. He hadn’t seen his homeland in years, and with the Traveller’s help he could finally return to the place his heart still called home. Of course, that wasn’t without Lord Kamisato literally forcing him to take a vacation to get him to make the trip. The Yashiro Commission wouldn’t completely collapse the moment he stepped out of Inazuma’s borders, or so Ayaka reassured him. He wasn’t fully convinced, but the longing for his friends grew stronger, and since the Traveller knew them it would be easier to reach out again.

The instant the boat had docked in Liyue, Lumine was basically dragging Thoma by the arm to the nearest waypoint. He could see the respect this nation had for her based on the smiles across their faces and a few friends stopping them to say hi for a moment. They knew Lumine had been excited for a long time, knowing how much Thoma missed the place he used to know like the back of his hand, so they didn’t keep the two of them along.

In one moment they were passing by several food stalls in Liyue, and the next Thoma opened his eyes to the city of freedom. Lumine had simply giggled as tears started to form in his eyes without noticing it himself, wiping away the droplets with her sleeves.

“It’s become so much more than I remembered it to be.” he had said fondly, chuckling at his swept up emotions.

“Welcome home, Thoma.” was her reply, short and still sweet. Now he noticed the tears, pulling Lumine into a massive hug.

“I… don’t believe my eye. Is that Thoma, Honorary Knight?” a voice came from behind the two.

The two pulled apart to find one Kaeya Alberich looking at them with wide eyes.

“Kaeya? Is that you?” he asked dumbly, of course it was Kaeya. And yet not at the exact same time.

“Mondstat’s very own Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius.” The traveller giggled beside him.

“Wait, Captain?!?! What happened to the shy, couldn’t look a pretty boy in the eyes Kaeya?” Thoma laughed, taking in his now grown friend’s appearance.

“Let’s just say he made some poor choices, but I made it out like I always do. Come here, rascal.” Kaeya had laughed, beyond giddy as he nearly dragged the other into an embrace.

Thoma was beyond ecstatic as he hugged his friend for the first time in far too long.

“We all heard about the crash and assumed the worst… but here you are! House husband for the Kamisato Clan all this time.” the darker man teased, pulling at Thoma’s cheeks.

“House husband?!?! Lumi what on earth have you said about me?” Thoma cried out incredulously.

“Nothing, actually. I wanted this to be a surprise for your friends in Mondstat.” she laughed, noting a peculiar bard in the background.

The two nodded at each other, silently saying Thoma knew who he was. The confirmation had Venti jumping beside Kaeya, scaring the living shit out of him.

“Welcome home, child of the wind.” he said rather fondly. “Mondstat has missed you more than you might imagine.”

Despite the initial confusion, when it clicked Thoma was almost reverent. “Lord Barbatos, it’s an honour to meet you, what a greeting.” he grinned.

Lumine elbowed him gently, a reminder that he went by Venti now.

“I have heard your songs from all this way. I am glad you are able to reunite with loved ones. I hope we meet again soon! Perhaps at Angel’s Share? Master Diluc is bartending and I enjoy riling him up.” the short man giggled.

“Wait… he’s not a knight? That was his biggest ambition…” he turned to Kaeya, who visibly paled.

“The Knights failed to protect someone who gave over their life for Mondstat’s protection, so I left.” another voice interrupted.

Another dramatic spin occurred, letting Thoma take in the sight of Diluc. His heart was beating outside of his chest, years of pent up regrets and longing prevented him from refraining to act on one of the wishes he had prayed to Barbatos for. Thoma basically sprinted to the redhead, almost sending them both tumbling down the stairs that led to the tavern with a bone crushing hug

“Welcome home, Thoma.” Diluc whispered, holding onto the other as tightly as possible. “I am so glad you’re alive… and that you’re still here.”

the vulnerability in the man’s voice was faint, but Thoma knew them like the back of his hand. He discreetly placed a kiss under Diluc’s jaw, a promise of something more to come later.

With a cough, Kaeya interrupted the sweet moment. “I will let Acting Grandmaster Jean that you’re here. I’m sure she’s be delighted to see you.”

“Jean is the Acting Grandmaster?!?! You guys… I am so proud of you! Look at what you’ve accomplished!” Thomas just fucking beamed, looking at the faces, both new and old, that we’re overjoyed to see him within the city’s walls once more.

Diluc was about to comment when a crashing sound came from below the balcony where they stood.

“Thoma?” could just barely be heard by the alchemy station.

With absolutely no hesitation, Thoma lept over the fencing to meet the owner of the voice.

“Sucrose…” he smiled somehow even wider than before.

It took all of two second for Sucrose to embrace their long lost friend, tears already falling from her eyes.

“You’re alive. You’re okay. This isn’t a dream?” They whispered, for any higher in volume would be incomprehensible.

“Sucrose, sugar… oh I’m so sorry.” Thoma replied, just holding her tightly. “I tried to send letters, but the Sakoku Decree happened and I couldn’t get anything through.” he rambled, only to be shushed by his friend.

“Don’t you apologize. Please. I’m just so happy you’re alive and I get to see you again.” she replied, curling right into his chest.

The man was full on crying now, rubbing the alchemist’s ears to hear her purrs, to make sure it was real. Without hesitation Sucrose was purring loudly, still clinging to Thoma like her life depended on it, as if he would disappear if they let go.

“Archons, I’ve missed you all.” the man spoke softly, noticing the gathering crowd around them with massive smiles on their faces. The others from before had joined them as well, just so genuinely happy to see someone they thought to be long dead.

Lumine had mentioned the passing of Master Crepus and what she knew of that night, so he knew better than to ask. For now, he was content, embracing his best friend and slitting a very flushed but loving gaze from a certain Wine Tycoon.

He would definitely owe the traveller a meal or something of that kind, for gifting him with the only thing he’d ever wished for.

“Welcome home, Thoma.” Sucrose whispered.

All was right in the world. He could die a very happy man, wait no scratch that, he still has to tell Diluc his feelings, and by the reaction he got, he was almost 100% certain meant it was reciprocated.

He had finally made it home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, consider leaving a like and reblogging!!!

~Riv xx

[waltenfiled]

AHHHH SORRYSORRY IM AT WORK SO LATE RESPONSE BUT IM ON LINCH BREAK!!! (CURRENTLY DAMARION THEY/THEM BTW TY!! DELIGHTFUL TO MEET YOU PAL!!)

okokok so dnd!krabs goes by she/it but she doesnt really care much and usually just goes by she/her but it/its is also nice! tiefling warlock as the post said, i dont have much info for her yet other than its character sheet but heres the little that i have for her so far!

shes trying to recover from a long time debt from bard school! basically college debt, shes a college dropout (kicked out but shhhh) and found most of the proffessors didnt really lile it due to its cynical and dry way of humor which was very much so not how humor is taught at the bard school it attended. also very rowdy and constantly pickpocketed the proffessors.

luckily though, she always had a knack for magics and shit and became a warlock! one night she was staying at a motel kinda place and ran into some old guy and they ended up having a really nice conversation and the guy ended up having a really big fascination with shit like necromancy and dark magic and talked about it for HOURS. after that night krabs kinda made a promise to itself to build her skill to the point of being powerful enough to be able to use necromancy :]]

THATS ALL I HAVE SO FAR ITS KINDA SILLY BUT I THINK IT GIVES DND!KRABS PERSONALITY SHES ESSENTIALLY A COLLEGE DROPOUT TRYING TO RECOVER FROM COLLEGE DEBT AND ALSO HAS A FASCINATION WITH NECROMANCY FROM AN OLD GREASY HUMAN SHE HUNG OUT WITH AT SOME RINKY DINK MOTEL (never saw the old guy again btw)

~krabs :]

oh my god, it has so many layers already aa!!! okay okay, im gonna disect this one by one because krabs is already so interesting damarion, and nice to meet you too :) <3

i can absolutely get it with the college debt :( can't really say i go to bard school but phew, college debt is something o7 !! i absolutely find it hilarious that due to its humour she was kicked out, although unfortunate and not an ideal circumstance to be in, it's stupidly absurd —

once again, bard school continues to be a pain in the ass for aspiring bards </3 what a shame :( not saying i've gone to bard school or anything .. ^-^ /silly

and the sudden twist of bard to warlock? that has so much potential for a character arc aa i can already tell that its gonna be an amazing character to play <3 <3 it's strange how i've only come across little characters with a totally different aspiration from what they originally wanted to do, it's such an amazing backstory

with, as i said, has so much potential to fully flesh out during the campaign! gosh, she's not even my character and i'm getting excited for your execution of it !!

what i'm curious about is if she's going to be / it is, self-taught? or she learns it from somewhere, someone or through.. youtube tutorials or maybe skillshare? :O /silly

and i squealed when you mentioned that it pitpockets and is generally rowdy with its past professors cause i am a sucker for troublemaking rascals!! and it's also a great trait if done properly with a character :O once again the potential is skies the limit !!!!

P.S: cannot get over that this guy just comes along and unknowingly inspired krab's life, it's just.. funny! wishing it the best of luck on her journey for learning necromancy !!

[angelz-dust]

masters of none - part 3 (jason todd x reader)

summary: i wanted to give you guys a more jason focused chapter. i plan on doing more of these where the reader isn’t as heavily included or not even included at all. hopefully the jason chapter i do will be better because i feel like the quality of my writing dipped a little on this one fhjghdk the next part will be back in reader’s head i promise. anyway i hope you guys still enjoy. this chapter is a little more dangerous, so prepare yourself.

word count: 6k

warnings: illegal activities (street racing, running from the cops, gunfire). food and drink (non alcoholic). smoking.

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 4

rascal (superstar)

money, cash, clothes, fast cars

...

jason felt the cool nighttime air beating back against him, the rumble of his engine being the only thing he could hear as he rode his motorcycle down the quiet road in robbinsville. he felt naked being out and about at night in his civilian clothing but it was necessary for the task at hand. 

"exactly what does bruce want me to do?" jason asked barbara through their comm link.

"he wants you to report back with any intel you can get," barbara explained, the sound of her furious typing picking up in his ear. "my father thinks southside may be up to something. after that blow up between them and the penguin's guys, they've both been quiet. bruce just wants to make sure nothing's brewing under our noses."

"this is such a cop mission," jason complained as made a turn. "below my caliber, if i'm being honest."

"well, you'll have the races to keep you entertained," she reminded him. "i'll be on the line if you need me."

the races were the only reason jason had agreed to take on the little spy mission in the first place. sure, street racing was very illegal but it was also very entertaining. barbara was correct on that end. he just hoped it wouldn't be a complete waste of his time and he'd actually get some information out of the whole thing. he had to admit that it was a tolerable change of pace from the monotony that was patrolling crime alley. jason had passed the baton to cass for the night. she was the only person he trusted to do a good job. he refused to let just anyone take over his patrol route. things were different in crime alley. it required a... gentler touch that only he could provide and that he felt cass had an understanding of. one of the things he promised himself he'd do with his undeserved second chance at life was to protect the people who needed it most. it didn't matter how monotonous patrol became, or how tired he felt, or how how hard things got. he'd protect them all until his body didn't let him anymore.

jason could see his destination, the abandoned industrial park, in the distance. there were several cars parked all throughout it with people congregating around them. from what he could see, everything seemed calm. the closer he got, the better he could hear the loud music playing from the cars. he slowly pulled up, getting some looks from the people he passed by on his way to park it. coming here alone may have been a bad idea. he should've dragged dick along with him. it would've made blending in easier. he dismounted his bike, propping it up on the kickstand and pulling his helmet off his head. as he casually fixed his hair, he did a quick scan of the area. there were several groups of people scattered around while the road was being prepared for the race. 

he saw a group of rowdy socialites a bit overdressed for a street race. he could use them as cover but the last thing he wanted to do was willingly be around the likes of them. there was one small group tucked away, standing around an electric blue sports car. their eyes were shifty and he could see they were trying to keep their voices down, even when they were far away from everyone else. he'd have to keep an eye on them. jason's eyes fell on the group of people counting money, presumably the betting pot. placing one would be a good way of blending in organically. he had made sure to grab some money from the emergency stash when he left the manor for this very reason. he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket, making his way over to the crowded area.

"we're short by a thousand," a woman, the bookkeeper, announced.

"pitch in," a man said, elbowing another guy.

quinton kelly, jason thought to himself, recognizing the rapper that stephanie and duke liked so much. 

"i don't have a fucking band on me," quinton laughed in response, pulling out his wallet. "i can put down three."

"i'll match that," another man spoke up, a cigarette in his mouth. if memory served, which jason liked to think it did, that was tyler ronan. 

"who else has money burning a hole in their pocket?" the bookkeeper shouted out, making the group laugh. 

"come on, superstar. donate to the cause," the man from earlier spoke up, bothering someone else now.

"hell no," an oddly familiar female voice said. jason's eyes searched for the source. "are you insane?"

surprise flashed across his face when he realized who the voice belonged to. it was you. y/n l/n. the girl from the gala. his bard. he felt an odd sensation building in his stomach. he had convinced himself he was never going to see you again yet here you were. your presence made sense. quinton and tyler were members of cloud 9, just like you were. he wasn’t sure if he was happy to see you or if he was glad he could use you as cover. he could just follow you around and no one would question it. this was him banking on the assumption that you'd actually want to speak to him. he was hoping that he made a good impression on you at the gala. your interaction was short, but memorable. at least it was to him. staring at you like a deer in headlights wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he spoke up.

"i can put down four," he said, emerging from the back of the group. he felt all the eyes on him and he could hear the whispers. he ignored them all, his attention fully on the bookkeeper. the surprised look on her face led him to believe that she recognized him, too.

"well, i'm not going to turn down old money," she joked, getting some laughs. "what's your name? there's so many of you wayne kids, i can't keep track."

jason chuckled, nodding in understanding. even he lost track sometimes. "jason."

"okay, mr. jason wayne," she said, taking his name down. 

"it's todd," you said, catching him off guard. his eyes met yours, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

"oh, excuse me," she laughed, correcting herself. "mr. jason todd."

"i'm racking up the celebrity bets tonight," the man, who jason now deducted was the driver, grinned. 

"yeah, so don't embarrass us by losing," the bookkeeper said seriously, counting up the money. 

"alright! let's get this shit started!" someone yelled, everyone cheering loudly and moving in towards the finish line.

you, tyler, and quinton were walking over as a group, but jason noticed you were trailing behind. he couldn't help but think in the back of his mind that you had slowed your stride for him. he made his way over to you, being greeted by your sweet smile.

“hi jason,” you said softly, keeping your voice low. “i didn’t think i’d see you here tonight.”

“i could say the same about you,” jason couldn’t help but wonder what it was you were doing a street race. yes, there were other celebrities there but he didn’t peg you as the type to hang out with gang members. but then again, this was gotham. “can’t say i’m disappointed to see you, though.”

your smile grew, your eyes crinkling a little. “well, the feeling is mutual. it’s nice to see you, too.”

what he said was the truth. it wasn't something he said to try and butter you up, although that may have influenced his decision to tell you how he felt. he really did enjoy your company, both as red hood and as jason. he wasn’t particularly looking forward to his mission but now he was glad he accepted. 

"hey," you called out, sticking your foot out and kicking quinton in the butt with the tip of your shoe. quinton turned around and gave jason a look. after a moment, he held his hand out to him. 

"what's up, man?" he greeted jason, dapping him up, tyler doing the same. "you hanging with us tonight?"

"yes, he is," you answered for him, making jason grin. 

he was glad you were eager to keep him around. now he didn't have to try and convince you or insert himself awkwardly. "can you spot me?" jason asked, gesturing towards tyler's cigarette.

"sure thing," tyler nodded, holding the carton out for him. jason plucked one out of the box, quickly lighting it and taking a long drag. 

while the three of you talked, jason took the opportunity to try and listen in on the other conversations happening around him. it was like he was playing with a radio, tuning in and out of conversations as he saw fit. none of them were interesting or helpful, though. they were pretty boring and mostly topical, pertaining to the race, the cars, and just other mindless bullshit.

"yeah, we're gonna drop the stuff off at the docks after the race. mix it in with the bite bottles," he heard someone say. 

bingo. he didn't know what the stuff was but he assumed it was nothing good, especially if it was being hidden with something as harmless as track bite. he'd have to look into that later. it was safe to assume they were referring to were the docks off of cape carmine, not too far from the current location. jason lightly pressed on his comm link, glancing around before speaking quietly. 

"i think something might go down at the docks later tonight," he said, hearing barbara's shuffling.

"cape carmine?" 

"i would assume so. they were talking about hiding some shit with track bite bottles."

"knowing them it could be something as simple as drugs or complex as new tech. just keep me posted."

jason was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the low rumble of car engines. the first car was candy apple red 240sx, souped up beyond comprehension. the other was as glossy black gtr, more subtle in presentation. as he admired the cars rolling by, he realized something. he turned his head towards you, clearing his throat.

"which car did i bet on?" he asked you quietly, getting a confused smile from you. 

"the red one," you said through a little laugh. "did you seriously bet without knowing?"

"perhaps," jason shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 

"idiot," you shook your head, making him laugh now. 

"well, your friends knew. i trust their judgement."

"as you should," quinton said, catching the tail end of the conversation between you both. "our boy spider knows what he's doing."

you and jason looked out at the road again, watching as it was prepped with track bite and then lit on fire with propane. jason glanced over at you, noticing you were struggling to see behind your very tall friends and the other people in the way. he gently tapped your arm, non verbally offering you a spot in front of him. you accepted with a smile, working your way in front of him.

"don't get any ashes in my hair," you playfully told him. he went to do just that, pretending to tap off the excess from his cigarette on your head, purposefully missing so you could see the ashes fall down in front of you. you gasped, moving back, his firm abdomen pressed against you. with your head against his chest, you looked up at him and glared.

"okay, okay, i'm sorry," jason laughed, sticking the cigarette back in his mouth. "you made it too easy."

"you're such an ass," you rolled your eyes, turning back around and moving out of his personal space bubble. jason's shit eating grin never left his face as he took another drag, making sure to keep the smoke and ashes as far from you as he could. the flagger for the race walked out as the cars pulled up to the starting line. with the street prepped and the cameras set up, the main race was finally going to begin. 

"gigante wants us to head out early, so we need to leave after this." 

these idiots just loved talking about sensitive information out loud, didn't they? it made jason’s job a whole lot easier so he couldn't complain. it was too bad that he'd have to leave early for the lead, though. he was just starting to get comfortable around you again. it seemed to be a running theme with the two of you.

the cars flashed their high beams, the flagger waiting a moment before giving the signal. as soon as he did, the drivers pressed down on the gas, their tires screeching against the concrete. spider's car popped a wheelie before speeding down the street, the black gtr not far behind. the 240sx was swerving, which would normally be alarming with an inexperienced driver behind the wheel. thankfully, the gtr stayed straight. despite spider’s sloppy swerving, the two cars were still neck and neck. it wasn't long before they zoomed past the crowd, eventually slowing down at the end of the road. it happened so quickly but it looked like spider had just barely passed the finish line before the gtr. 

"review the fucking footage!" someone from the other side shouted. 

there was a lot of money riding on the race, so naturally tensions were high. jason could hear arguments as two people went to go grab the cameras so they could look over the recordings. aside from the arguing, it was very quiet while everyone waited for the results.

"it's the 240!" they announced, looking at the footage on a tablet. there was a mix of cheers and objections. people were demanding to see the footage themselves but it was clear that the ruling was accurate and final. just as the two bookkeepers made the money exchange, accepting the results of the race.

"see, y/n? your boy was right to trust us," quinton grinned, patting jason's back, who grinned back. “easy money. not that you needed it.”

"i'll go grab our cuts?" tyler questioned, looking between quinton and jason, who agreed. "alright, i'll be back."

jason's eyes were glued on the two men he was eavesdropping on earlier. they were headed over to the same area tyler was going, presumably to get their cut of the money. there was a huge crowd of people, so it would probably take awhile. during jason’s observation, quinton had walked off to talk to someone else, leaving you with him. he probably had a few more minutes before he’d have to go back to being red hood, so he wanted to make the most of it. 

“so, you come to these things often?” jason asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. he wasn’t sure if you’d give him the answer he was looking for but it was worth a shot.

“not really. i got dragged here,” you shrugged, getting a nod from him. he was slightly relieved, hoping that meant you weren’t heavily involved with the people there. it would be convenient to get information from you but he didn’t want to spend the little time he had left interrogating you. “what about you?”

“i’ve been to a few,” he admitted, looking back at his two targets. they were still waiting around with tyler. his attention quickly went back to you. “how’s your wife?”

your brows furrowed briefly before your eyes widened. “oh, misha. she’s my ex-wife now, technically.”

“my deepest condolences,” jason joked. “does that make me a home wrecker after all?”

you hummed, looking up at the night sky as you thought it over. “no, i don’t think so. you’re more than welcome to be my back up plan, though.”

a hearty laugh came from jason, making his chest tingle. that was probably the douchiest thing he had ever said to someone. he was lucky you hadn’t slapped him or threw your drink in his face for being so bold that night. jason looked over at the group again, noticing that tyler was in the middle of getting the money, his two targets right behind him. he frowned a little, realizing that he’d have to excuse himself. just as he was about to, he heard some yelling in the distance. you both looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. 

before jason could even find the source of the commotion, he heard the sound of police sirens and the red and blue lights that naturally accompanied it. the crowd quickly reacted, stampeding away and back towards the parking area. people were yelling and cursing but loud screams replaced it all when gunshots rung out. jason immediately reached out to you, pulling you into his body while he searched for a way out. 

"come on!" jason shouted, grabbing your arm and starting to drag you away. he needed to get you both out of there as soon as possible.

"wait!" you gasped, looking around for your friends. jason could tell you were panicking as you tried to find them, but there was no time. not while the gunshots got louder and more frequent. "tyler! quinton!"

"we have to go, y/n! come on!" he firmly grabbed your hand and pulled, you reluctantly running off with him. he looked around for his bike, pushing through people as he worked his way over.

"god, you're parked in fucking guam!" you complained about the distance, trying to keep up with him. 

"less talking, more running!"

you both made it to the bike, him put on his helmet and passing you yours. as you both mounted the bike, he felt your arms wrap tightly around his midsection and your cheek press into his back. "hold on tight, alright?" he said before speeding off, slipping expertly through the parked cars and people in his way.

as he rode his bike through the park, there were several cars with the same idea, all evacuating the area by going out the same way. too impatient to wait, he began weaving through the cars. it didn't take long for the huge group to get to the main streets where more cops were waiting for them. many of the cars began making wild turns off road and going in the opposite direction but jason had other plans. he picked up speed, heading straight for the forming blockade.

"you're heading straight for the cops!" you yelled, tightening your grip around him. 

"keen observation!" 

"maybe you should turn around?"

"nah, i'm good!" jason told you, cockiness lacing his words. he knew what he was doing. "you trust me, right?"

"i don’t even know you!" you said back, peeking over his shoulder before hiding your face in his back as he continued approaching the cars at a violent speed. jason easily slipped through the cop cars, making it through before the road was blocked off. 

jason smirked, making a sharp turn down the curving street. he was about to say something smug when he heard the sirens getting closer. he glanced at his mirror, seeing one of the cars trailing him. shit.

"shit."

"jason!"

"i know!" 

his grip on the handle bars tightened as he sped up, trying to find a way to lose the cop without putting you in danger. if it was just him, he'd do some more risky maneuvers but he really didn't want you flying off the back of his bike. he'd have to lose them in a safer way. 

"pull over your vehicle! this is your only warning!" the officer said through the speaker of the car.

jason really didn't want to take you through crime alley or the bowery, so his best bet was driving towards blüdhaven. it was better than finding a way to turn around in order to stay in gotham and blüdhaven was much closer, anyway. hopefully he'd lose the cop after crossing city lines. he really didn't want to circumnavigate the planet to get away from one cop.

he had an idea. a stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless. he was getting dangerously close to traffic and as long as you stayed tightly wrapped around him, he could slip through and cross the bridge to blüdhaven, losing the cop in the process. would you like it? probably not, but he was running out of options. 

"jason, what are you doing?" you asked frantically, the bright city lights getting closer and closer.

"something stupid," he sped up, trying to put more distance between him and the cop. "do not move a muscle."

"stop the vehicle! now!" the cop yelled through the speaker again. 

jason could smell the burning rubber of his tires as he turned down the street, the sound of horns honking as he slipped through traffic, the cop still hot on his tail. he slowed down a little in order to make accurate and much safer movements as traffic got denser, giving him more cars to avoid. he glanced at the mirror again, seeing he had made a some good distance. if he could keep it up, he'd lose the cop in no time. the bridge to blüdhaven wasn't much farther. 

"jason, look out!" you yelled, pointing to the oncoming sixteen wheeler about to cut both of you off. there was a reason you weren't supposed to run red lights. 

he had two options: come to a screeching halt, turning the both of you into projectiles or keep pushing and pray to god that you both didn't get t-boned by the s.t.a.r labs semi. jason furrowed his brows and set his jaw speeding up as much as he could. he could hear the loud horn ringing in his ears but he kept laser focus on his intended destination. he zipped past the truck, just barely going fast enough to not get hit. in the driver's attempt to not hit you two, he stopped in the middle of the street, preventing the cop from being able to follow anymore. jason's heart was hammering in his chest as he rode down the bridge down to blüdhaven, the warm yellow streetlights illuminating the way. once he crossed over, he headed to a nearby diner. he parked in the back lot, not wanting to draw too much attention.

"hey, are you alright?" he asked, taking off his helmet and getting off the bike. he hung it from the handlebar, helping you dismount. he hesitantly moved his hands towards your face, unclipping your helmet and pulling it off your head. "y/n? talk to me. are you hurt?"

"n-no, i'm fine," you told him shakily. seeing you all shaken up made him feel terrible. he wasn't sure how to comfort you without overstepping boundaries, so he kept his distance, giving you time to recover. after you collected yourself, jason flinched at your sudden physical attacks.

"i can't believe you!" you yelled, abusing his chest with smacks and punches. "you almost got us killed!"

"i-i'm sorry!" he sputtered, grabbing your wrists to stop you from hitting him. "i didn't know what else to do!"

you looked at him, a hard expression on your face. god, you probably hated him and he couldn’t blame you. leave it to him to fuck some shit up. his self deprecating thoughts began to subside when he saw the smile of disbelief forming on your face. "jason todd, you are a fucking maniac."

he loosened his grip on your wrists, a smile slowly making its way to his face, mirroring yours. "i've been called worse."

"just another fucking day in gotham," you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "or blüdhaven, i guess."

"yeah, sorry about that," he apologized with a frown. "that bastard was persistent."

"don't worry about it," you reassured him, letting out a deep sigh. "i need to call my friends and make sure they're alright."

jason nodded, grabbing his own phone. "yeah, i gotta make a call, too."

the two of you separated, jason only pretending to be on the phone so he could talk to barbara. "you there?"

"yeah. i see you went on a little drive," she said, her almost sounding like scolding.

"what the hell was i supposed to do? we had to get out of there," jason frowned. 

"we?" barbara echoed and jason could practically hear the quirk in her brow. 

"not important. what's important is acknowledging the fact that i didn't hear the sweet sound of your voice earlier," jason started off sarcastically, it being his turn to scold now. "where the hell were you at, almighty oracle? you didn't wanna tell me the cops were gonna show up?"

"i didn't know they were out there," she admitted honestly, sounding confused. "they must have been keeping it on the down low. the question now is why."

"probably so people like us wouldn't find out," jason sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"maybe," she sounded unsure. being unsure wasn't really barbara’s thing, so that was alarming.

"well, i doubt anything will go down at the docks now. the area's too hot."

"you're probably right. there's nothing else we can do tonight," barbara sighed. "glad you're not dead."

"yeah, thanks," jason gave her a quick goodbye, putting his phone away and walking back to his bike. you had just finished your conversation, looking relieved. "good news?"

"tyler and quinton got out fine. i think they took a different exit out because i didn't see them with that big group we were in," you explained, shivering a little. 

"we should go inside. it'll be better than loitering out here," jason offered and you nodded in agreement. you entered the diner, noticing there weren't many people inside.

"let's sit in that booth over there," you pointed over to the near the window, jason's bike being visible on the outside. 

you both made your way over, sliding into your seats. the atmosphere was a bit awkward initially, the both of you still coming down from your adrenaline rush. jason hooked his finger under the little acrylic standee holding the dessert menu, pulling it towards himself. a nice cup of coffee with something sweet sounded good right about now. it would definitely calm his nerves. he wasn’t sure if you’d get anything, though. maybe you were too frazzled to eat, which made him feel bad again. before his negative thoughts could return, he looked up, noticing you eyeballing the menu leaning against the window sill. you had your head tilted to the side, as the menu was stored horizontally, making it difficult to read the text. he couldn't help but smile to himself as you squinted at it. why would didn't just grab the menu to look at it properly, he didn't know. he wasn't going to question it, though, simply putting his menu back where he found it. 

"what can i get you kids tonight?" the approaching waitress asked, pulling out her notepad. 

"a black coffee and a slice of pie for me," jason said as the waitress quickly wrote his order down. 

"is apple alright?" she asked and jason nodded. "what about you, hon?"

"um... blueberry waffles," you said, tilting your head some more before looking at her. "and hot chocolate."

the waitress smiled at your order, nodding as she jotted it down. "you want some bacon or sausage on the side? we have pork and turkey."

you hummed, drumming your fingers on the table. "yes. turkey bacon."

"shouldn't take but a minute. if you two find yourselves wanting anything else, you just let me know."

jason yawned, leaning back against his seat with outstretched arms. he did some people watching while he waited for the waitress to return. there was a small group of people, college students most likely, sitting at the middle tables with textbooks and empty plates strewn about. there was a cop sitting at the bar, very obviously flirting with the other, much younger waitress who was refilling his coffee. then there was you and him. he had been with you for quite some time now and he hadn't taken the opportunity to look at you. to really look at you. you absentmindedly played with the hair that directly framed your face while you were on your phone. you looked awfully comfortable in your oversized sweatshirt despite your shivering earlier. you weren't really dressed up, he noticed. it didn't look like you had on any makeup either. then again, tim had told him that people who wore makeup had the ability to make it look like they weren't wearing any at all. the natural look was what it was called. either way, your face looked nice. so did your hair. and your eyes, that were now gazing into his.

"you know, i definitely didn't see myself ending up here tonight."

jason's brow perked up. "what? running from the cops on the back of my motorcycle wasn't on your bingo card?"

"can't say it was," you shook your head with a smile. 

"are you disappointed?"

"with?"

"where you ended up tonight."

"no," you said, not missing a beat. your lack of hesitation surprised him in the best way possible. "sure, you almost killed me but that's a typical tuesday for a gothamite."

jason grinned, biting his lip. "i'm sorry about that. really, i-"

"no, no," you cut him off, dismissing his apology with a wave of the hand. "don't apologize. it's over and done with."

even though you seemed to be okay with everything, he still felt like shit. that feeling wasn’t going away any time soon. the waitress returned with your food and drinks, receiving thanks from you both. jason immediately took a sip of his coffee, the potent flavor coating his tongue and the warmth of the liquid heating his body up. it helped soothe some of his anxiety.

"this is so cute," you muttered, taking a picture of your plate. the chef had arranged the blueberries and bacon to make a smiley face that you couldn't help but smile back at. once you got a good picture, you started digging in. 

there was no conversation to be had. the two of you just ate, occasionally glancing at each other or at your phones. every now and then your eyes would meet and little smiles would be shared. you and jason were people who appreciated the intimacy of silence. not talking was often harder than holding a conversation. being able to sit in complete silence with someone and not feel uncomfortable at any point was a hard task for most but it came naturally to you both. not that you two had much to talk about anyway. you barely knew each other and you definitely weren’t about to bond over your near death experience. jason didn’t want to risk possibly fucking up even more than he already had, so not talking worked for him. it didn’t help keep his intrusive thoughts out, though. he tried not to focus on them, distracting himself with people watching and looking at you.

“where did you learn to ride like that?” you asked him, suspicion lacing your words. you popped a blueberry into your mouth, tilting your head at him.

“uh...” he trailed off, shrugging softly as he hid his face in his mug, drinking the liquid inside. “nowhere. myself. i don’t know. i guess it was just the adrenaline. why?”

you shrugged back at him, reaching over and stealing a small piece of his pie. you looked him in the eye as you ate it, licking the food off your fork as your eyes narrowed. “you know how i’m batman? i’m starting to think you might be catwoman.”

jason snorted, breathing out a laugh as he looked around the diner in disbelief. not only did he find your little joke funny, the fact that you technically weren’t that far off was amusing to him. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you aren’t denying it?” your brow raised, making him laugh again. “ah, i’ve caught you red handed.”

oh, this was just the gift that kept on giving. now you were making puns without even realizing it. 

“i mean, it all makes sense. the unnecessary flirting, calling me out for being a vigilante, and now running from the cops,” you clicked your tongue with a shake of the head, carefully wiping the corners of your mouth. you balled up your napkin, tossing it on your now empty plate. “i don’t know why you thought that i, the greatest detective in gotham, wouldn’t be able to piece this all together. i’m offended, really.”

“can i get you two anything else tonight?” the waitress asked as she walked up, just missing your conversation.

“no, ma’am. i think we’re good,” jason smirked, not taking his eyes off of you. she left the check on the table, walking off. jason pulled out his wallet, leaving a twenty to cover both the food and the tip. 

“wayne money or dirty money? the world will never know,” you quipped as the two of you got up to leave, making him roll his eyes.

“shut up.”

after a quick pit stop at the gas station, jason took you back to your apartment in the diamond district. the ride there was long, but nice, accompanied by music coming from the radio. a cloud 9 song played at one point and jason decided that he might have to give your discography a listen. the way you held yourself against him, nuzzling into his back gave him goosebumps. or maybe it was just the nippy temperature. he hoped that’s all it was. for awhile, he wondered if you were cold. if his jacket was warmer, he would’ve offered it to you a long time ago. and, of course, if it wasn't so cliché. with the way you were attached to him, he liked to think that his body heat was enough. relief washed over him when he pulled up in front of gotham tower. he wasn’t sure how much more he of that could take. he parked, letting you off.

"do you wanna come in?" you pulled him from his thoughts as you took off your helmet. 

"come in?" he parroted, a laugh falling from your lips.

"i'm not asking you to spend the night or anything. it’s just.. you’ve been acting like my chauffeur all night and it isn’t safe to be out this late. i'd feel horrible if something happened to you," you explained, getting a smile from him. 

"don't worry about me. i'll be fine. my place isn't too far from here," he lied with a shrug. his safehouse was nowhere near the diamond district but you didn’t need to know that little detail. the rest of what he said was true. he was going to be fine. “besides, i’m catwoman, remember?”

"at least let me give you my number," you insisted with a giggle, pulling out your phone. "you have to text me when you get home."

jason agreed and the two of you exchanged numbers, bidding each other goodbye. he made sure to stay and watch you go up before leaving. on his way home, he thought about your concern for his wellbeing, finding it cute. misplaced, but cute. it wasn't your fault, though. you didn't know he was more than capable of taking care of himself and the whole damn city, for that matter. you know, as catwoman. still, it was sweet having someone worry about him for a change, even if it wasn’t completely necessary. when he got back to his safe house he texted you, just as promised. you must've been waiting for him because you responded pretty quick. he crawled into bed, smiling down at the heart emojis you sent him. he decided to send you something back before going to sleep, his thumbs slowly typing out the words that popped into his head.

you better not start texting me all the time.

don't flatter yourself. i won’t.

he hoped that you would anyway.

[king-finnigan]

5 times Jaskier didn’t get to braid flowers into Geralt’s hair and 1 time he did

As part of my 500 followers celebration! Masterlist!

***

I.

The first time he brings it up, is in a dingy inn in a nowhere town, as he sits behind Geralt, pulling bits of monster guts from the silver locks.

“You know,” he muses, softly. “I think you’d look rather dashing with some flowers in your hair.”

Geralt has his back turned to him, but Jaskier knows he’s rolling his eyes. “Hmm.” Which is Geralt-speak for ‘absolutely not, or I will shove your lute so far up your ass you’re coughing up strings.’ Which is a ‘maybe’ for Jaskier.

He shrugs. “Maybe some buttercups. Or some daisies- no, daisies wouldn’t be very visible in your hair, it’d look like you made a mess with your scrambled eggs. Maybe something bigger, like a Dahlia-“

“Jaskier.”

“Oh, come on, why not? People already detest you in this town, what harm could a few flowers do?”

“A lot. I have a reputation.”

Jaskier snorts, carding his fingers through Geralt’s hair one last time, making sure all the nasty bits are gone. “Yes, and all thanks to yours truly. Really, Witcher, don’t you think you should repay me at least a little for that?”

He can hear Geralt rolling his eyes again. “You’ve got coin. It’s repayment enough.”

He sighs theatrically, slapping the Witcher’s shoulder before he stands up. “Says you. Don’t worry, Geralt, one day I’ll braid flowers into your hair, mark my words.”

All he gets is a dismissive “Hmm”, but he knows this is far from over – he’ll make sure of that.

 II.

The second time, they’re in a wildflower field, hunting for a noonwraith, miles away from any town, no one there to see if the Witcher walks around with flowers in his hair. Jaskier leans down, picking a pink flower, and holding it up.

“Geralt-“

“No.”

Jaskier blinks. “You don’t even know-“

“No flowers in my hair.”

He groans in frustration. “Okay, fine, maybe you do know what I was going to ask, but Geralt-“

“No.”

“But there’s no one around to see! Pretty please, Geralt. I will be quiet the entire way back if you let me braid flowers into your hair.”

“No.”

Before he gets the chance to say anything, there’s a shrill shriek, ringing through the field, and Geralt draws his sword, before he starts advancing on the noonwraith.

“Stay back,” he warns Jaskier, and the bard sighs, slumping against Roach. He looks up at her.

“I swear, one day I will braid flowers into his hair.” Roach snorts, and tosses her hair back. He gasps in offense, hand against his chest. “I will! I swear I will.”

 III.

The third time, he’s bleeding from three large gashes in his stomach. It doesn’t really hurt so much, though, he mostly just feels… numb. And dirty, too – he’s lying in mud, and he cringes at the feeling of it in his hair, against his back.

Geralt’s fussing over him, pressing an old shirt against the wound with one hand, searching for needle and thread in his bag with the other. “Stop squirming,” he grumbles between his teeth.

“But there’s mud in my hair,” Jaskier whines.

“Shouldn’t have fucking approached the Werewolf, then.” And if he didn’t know better, he’d almost swear Geralt sounded worried. But he knows better.

He sighs softly, the edges of his vision blurring, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. He reaches one hand out, threading it softly through Geralt’s wet hair.

“You’re going to have to take a bath when we get back.”

“Hmm.” Geralt lifts the shirt up, frowning when fresh blood streams down Jaskier’s side. It tickles, and he can’t suppress a giggle. “Stop moving.”

Jaskier laughs again, before he quiets down, more of his vision fading out, his head becoming light. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you with that bath.” I’ll be around long enough to help you with that bath. “I’ll braid flowers into your hair when you aren’t paying attention.”

Geralt smiles softly, as he pulls the thread through the eye of the needle. “Promise?”

Jaskier smiles back, managing to whisper out a “promise” before he loses consciousness.

Of course, when he wakes up, two days later, Geralt refuses to let him braid flowers into his hair.

 IV.

The fourth time, he doesn’t ask. He simply goes to the river bank, where he saw some lilies growing, as Geralt meditates in the afternoon sun. Jaskier picks some of them, before rushing back to camp. He tries to quiet his footsteps when he approaches, sits down behind Geralt as silently as possible, laying the flowers in his lap.

Slowly, he brings his hands up, gently undoing Geralt’s hairtie, letting the locks loosen and fall from the half-ponytail. He waits a few seconds for a sign that the Witcher isn’t meditating anymore, but Geralt’s breath remains deep and steady, his form still, not a single muscle twitching.

Jaskier assumes that means the coast is clear, and softly takes a few locks of hair inbetween the fingers of one hand, reaching for a lily with his other.

“Jaskier.” He startles at the sound of Geralt’s voice, suddenly ringing through the clearing. “What are you doing?”

He feels heat rising to his cheeks. “I was just… uh… going to brush your hair. It looked a bit dusty, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“I can smell the flowers.”

His blush deepens, and he knows Geralt can hear his heartbeat picking up. “Those on the riverbank nearby? Yes, those do smell quite strongly, don’t they?” he asks as innocently as possible, as he slowly picks one up from his lap, bringing it towards his other hand, still entangled in Geralt’s hair.

“Jaskier.” A warning.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Jaskier.”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

He lets his hands fall into his lap when Geralt turns around to glare at him.

“Come on, just one flower, just the one.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I have a reputation.”

“Fuck your reputation! I have needs and right now I need to see you with flowers in your hair!”

“I said no.”

Jaskier sighs, stands up, stalking away, the flowers falling from his lap. “Fine! But I will be very angry about this for at least two hours!”

He hears Geralt snort behind him.

 V.

He gasps, eyes wide, heart pounding in his throat, anger coursing through his veins as he takes in the sight in front of him.

“Really? Fucking really? She gets to braid flowers into your hair but I can’t?”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “You’re not my Child Surprise.”

Jaskier gasps again as Ciri sticks out her tongue at him from behind Geralt. “I- you- she- how dare you!” He clenches his jaw, lifts an accusing finger. “I meant what I said all those years ago, Witcher, I will braid flowers into your hair one day. And you-“ he points at Ciri “I expected better from a princess.”

She giggles and Geralt rolls his eyes as Jaskier theatrically stomps away. Of course, he’s not really angry – as a matter of fact, a plan is starting to form in the back of his head. Though, he’s going to need help for this one, and it relies on how much of a little rascal Ciri can be.

 + I

“Geralt?” Ciri asks innocently, a week later. “Can I braid flowers into your hair again?”

The Witcher is momentarily roused from his meditation, long enough for him to hum back his permission, before his breathing deepens again.

Ciri walks across the clearing, Jaskier right next to her, matching his footsteps to hers. They both sit down behind Geralt, though Ciri a little bit further to the left, giving Jaskier perfect access to the back of the Witcher’s head, as she fights to hold her giggles in.

Gently, he lifts his hands up, taking out the hairtie, looping some strands around his fingers. He starts braiding, and, thank the gods above, Geralt doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even seem to wake up from his meditation, and Jaskier stifles a laugh.

Softly, slowly, he continues, starts braiding Forget-Me-Nots into Geralt’s hair, their long stems in the silver strands, to secure them – so they definitely don’t fall out the second the Witcher turns his head.

Finally, he’s done, and he admires his work for a second, before he stands up. Ciri follows him, and they’ve barely left the clearing before they both dissolve into giggles. He high-fives her. “Told you it would work!”

“It didn’t,” came a gruff voice from behind them, and he startles at the sound.

Of course Geralt noticed. Of fucking course he did.

He turns around, ready to give his Witcher a proper chewing-out for letting him think he won, but he falls silent when he sees Geralt. He looks… well, he looks absolutely adorable, and beautiful, just in a way Jaskier’s never seen before. Maybe he did win, after all.

He smiles at Geralt. “My, oh, my, Witcher, don’t you look absolutely dashing.”

Geralt rolls his eyes as Ciri giggles behind him. “Hmm.”

“You’re going to have to let me braid flowers into your hair more often, really, it looks absolutely splendid.”

“Will you stop complaining if I do?”

He holds out his hand, little finger extended. “Pinkie promise.”

Geralt rolls his eyes again. “A regular promise will do.” Jaskier pretends he doesn’t see the small smile that’s tugging at his Witcher’s lips.

[theoutcastrogue]

Parallels: Olidammara the Laughing Rogue / The Cynics Diogenes and Menippus

Olidammara the Laughing Rogue (Deities & Demigods, 2002, illustration by M. Cavotta) / Diogenes bites Plato (Existential Comics #219)

1. Hecate’s Supper

Diogenes of Sinope (c. 412 – 323 BCE) was like the Oscar Wilde of his time. His snark was immensely popular, and for centuries after his death, if you wanted to say something sarcastic and make people pay attention, you'd just go ahead and say it and attribute it to him. (Which is why it's so hard today to determine what Diogenes actually said and what he didn't.) Alternatively, you could write a book with Diogenes as the protagonist, maybe another Cynic as well, and use them as your snarky mouthpieces.

That's what Lucian of Samosata (c. 125 – 180 CE) did, in his Dialogues of the Dead. These take place in Hades, and feature the philosophers Menippus of Gadara (3rd century BCE) and Diogenes, now dead, snarking from the Underworld and pumping the cynicism to eleven. And I remembered this wonderful satirical work while I was reading an old article in Dragon Magazine about Olidammara the Laughing Rogue, the classic D&D deity (in the Greyhawk pantheon) of thieves, beggars, and bards. It says:

"Shrines of Olidammara's faith are far more common than temples and may be found in urban or rural areas. Usually the shrine is just a pile of stones or an outdoor alcove bearing his mark where worshippers can pour an offering of wine or leave a bit of tasty food and a few copper coins. It is not considered an affront to the god for someone truly poor to take these coins, although stories exist of misers being punished for daring to take what is not their due."

A humble shrine to Olidammara, illustration by Andrew Hu (Dragon #342)

This bit about poor people pilfering offerings from a god's shrine was familiar. In Dialogues of the Dead, when Menippus dies, he gets immediately in trouble with Charon, the boatman, because he's supposed to have coins for the fare and he emphatically doesn't. (He's a Cynic, being penniless is his thing.) When Charon insists to be paid, Menippus wisely explains that he cannot give what he doesn't have, and when he gets frisked, all he has to show are lupin beans and a “Hecate's supper”. Now lupin beans are basically livestock food, humans only resort to them when destitute. And Hecate's supper? Well Hecate was the goddess of roads among other things, and she had shrines in street corners (particularly where three roads meet). People left offerings there every month “and these offerings were at once pounced upon by the poor, or, as here, the Cynics.”

It's not clear what Hecate thought about this plundering of her shrines, or what people imagined she thought. It's abundantly clear that the hungry didn't particularly care. But Olidammara approves as much as Menippus (and Lucian), which is pleasing. And that’s not the only parallel.

Diogenes Sitting in His Tub by Jean-Léon Gérôme (1860)

2. The rich remember

Olidammara drops some aphorisms

“Hoarded gold is no treasure. A man who lives alone with all of his money in a vault is poorer than a penniless man surrounded by merriment. What is the point of money and fine things if you cannot use them to bring you happiness? Better to spend your gold on food, wine, and music than let your mouth, ears, and mind go numb from nothingness.” 

“A cage of gold is still a cage. A man surrounded by valuable things may think he is happy, but if he cannot leave his home for fear of his possessions being stolen, and cannot touch them for fear they might break, he is not actually happy. Take the man's things so he is no longer bound to them and can be free to live as nature intended.”

Meanwhile in Hades, Diogenes messages the living

To Menippus the Cynic: If mortal subjects for laughter begin to pall, come down below, and find much richer material; it is the best of sport to see millionaires, governors, despots, now mean and insignificant; you can only tell them by their lamentations, and the spiritless despondency which is the legacy of better days.

To the rich: O vain fools, why hoard gold? why all these pains over interest sums and the adding of hundred to hundred, when you must shortly come to us with nothing beyond the dead-penny?

Menippus (detail) by Diego Velázquez (1638)

and Shades of rich men file a complaint against Menippus

CROESUS: Pluto, we can stand this snarling Cynic no longer in our neighbourhood; either you must transfer him to other quarters, or we are going to migrate. Midas here, and Sardanapalus and I, can never get in a good cry over the old days of gold and luxury and treasure, but he must be laughing at us, and calling us rude names; "slaves" and "garbage," he says we are. And then he sings; and that throws us out. In short, he is a nuisance.

MENIPPUS: All perfectly true, Pluto. I detest these abject rascals! Not content with having lived the abominable lives they did, they keep on talking about it now they are dead, and harping on the good old days. I take a positive pleasure in annoying them. Well, you scum of your respective nations, let there be no misunderstanding; I am going on just the same. Wherever you are, there shall I be also; worrying, jeering, singing you down. Yours was the presumption, when you expected men to fall down before you, when you trampled on men's liberty, and forgot there was such a thing as death. Now comes the weeping and gnashing of teeth: for all is lost! You do the whining, and I'll chime in with a string of KNOW THYSELVES, best of accompaniments.

Incredible Romero-inspired cover for Lucian's Dialogues of the Dead: An Intermediate Greek Reader (Faenum Publishing, 2015)

3. And then they diverged

Of course, Olidammara isn't all Cynic. Cynics rejected wealth and luxury altogether and snubbed everything not necessary for survival, in the name of (basically) independence. The Laughing Rogue, on the contrary, wants you to grab all the finer things in life with both hands, and have a good time.

The kernel of Olidammara's philosophy is that life should be enjoyed, for a life of misery and boredom is a life wasted. Mortals should laugh, enjoy the company of friends and the playing of music, taste good food, and drink good wine. Although he is not a hedonist and doesn't believe that mortals should be, he knows that a lifetime of meat, fruit, wine, and song is better than a a life of bread, water, and silence (unsurprisingly he has no ascetic or monk worshippers). His faithful should treat music as the art it is and strive to be as skilled at it as their patron. People should make jokes and laugh when the joke is on them, and try to avoid misery, temperance, and solemnity, for they are the greatest poison to the soul. He encourages people to practice occasional mayhem not for its own sake but to add excitement to boring lives and rattle the self-built cages of materialists.

And, to return full circle to Hecate's supper, Olidammara is something more than that. He discovered a source of fulfillment, joy, and bliss that all the squabbling philosophers in the time of Diogenes somehow failed to grasp. That shifty thieving scoundrel is sharing.

Olidammara's Aphorism: “What is good alone is better with others. Any pleasurable thing is greater when you can share it with someone else. A fine wine is sweeter when raised in toast to a friend. A romantic song is stronger as a duet. A good meal is more savory when shared with a hungry man. A memory is richer when reminiscing with someone who was there.”

And you know what? I’ll drink to that.

Illustration by Andrew Hu (Dragon #342)

[All excerpts about the Laughing Rogue are from the article “Core Beliefs: Olidammara” by Sean K. Reynolds (Dragon #342, 2006). All excerpts of Dialogues of the Dead are from The Works of Lucian of Samosata, transl. Henry Watson Fowler and Francis George Fowler (1905).]

[likesomekindofcheese]

Because the ship you wrote for me inspired me: What kind of characters do you think the Queen boys would play in a campaign with Reader as the DM? What race, class, and backstory aspects would they choose?

Hi there! I only have basic knowledge of DND and have played only One (1) campaign in my life. So take what I say with a grain of salt. I will also be basing these characters more off of the boys themselves rather than trying to think of a character they would make up (my fanfic boys writing fanfics!?)

And hey, if y'all disagree, tell me!

For Freddie...

Definitely a bard. I mean, a great musician who is charming and charismatic? and wants to seduce everything? That’s Freddie to a T! I also think he would want to be aTiefling- to not be an ordinary creature or being, but something really special that makes people stop and stare! He would want a backstory of being royalty of some sort and just mingling in adventures for fun! That’s very Freddie!

For Brian...

Brian would be a wizard without question (I mean, current! Brian DOES look like a wizard!). Anyways, he would like the idea of relying on intelligence to get through a situation. He would use that a lot on a campaign. I also think he would be an elf (they’re tall) for the charisma and the grace of the race would appeal to him. As well as their otherworldliness. He would give a depressing backstory of the elf losing everything before the campaign since he is drawn to more melancholy stories.

For Roger...

I see Roger as a rogue. Sly, tricky, quick, smart. Always on the tips of his feet and ready to strike (hey! like playing the drums!). As for the race, he would like the gnomes. They may be small in stature, but they have so much energy they are bouncing off the walls and full of the same joie de vivre that Roger has. As for backstory, he would try and make him the charming rascal rogue who then agreed to do the quest because it was the right thing to do.

For Deaky...

I see him as a ranger. On the outskirts of civilization. He is more prone to do his own thing and operate well on his own terms. He is still able to defeat any enemy with the bad luck to cross his path doing the wrong thing. As for race, Deaky would want to be human, I think. Nothing too fancy or extraordinary...or so it seems. But actuallly very talented and useful once you get to them. As for backstory, Deaky would make the ranger an apprentice, learning over a more talented ranger. As the old ranger died, he took over his place. Feeling unready and ready for adventure and glory.

Anyways, what do you guys think? Agree or disagree? Let me know?

[witchofmorena]

@jaskiersvalley​, darling you helped me with the idea for this so thank you💚 and tagging @she-who-ate-pizza-with-cap​ we know why😃

Geralt and Jaskier stopped for a night in a clearing. The forest around them was dense. Jaskier started to pick and make a heart for fire, singing softly, while Geralt went hunting. When Geralt returned, he had a couple of rabbits already prepared for roasting with skins he wanted to use to make blankets or something (Jaskier didn’t care much) and bard had heart almost ready, he left lighting it to the witcher. Less then 15 minutes later meat was roasting over fire. Suddenly a man stumbled into the clearing, he had two swords like Geralt and was even dressed in similarly to Geralt. The white haired man got up, looked over the stranger and hugged him, leaving Jaskier completely stunned!

“Lambert, you son of a bitch!“ Geralt said loudly with a happy smile on his face, making his bard look at him disbelief.”I heard you were nearby, just didn’t know how close you truly were!“

“White-haired fucker!“ man with same yellow eyes as Geralt, now identified as Lambert, greeted Geralt with an insult and a smile of his own. Musician gave up on trying to understand what was going on and turned back to dinner, ensuring it didn’t burn. He felt eyes on his back.”Where are your manners, old wolf?“ Younger witcher teased White Wolf,”won’t you introduce me to your friend?“

“Right, lets go to the fire“ Jaskier could hear footsteps coming closer, stopping beside him and a thump on either side of him. On his left was Geralt and on his right Lambert.”Jaskier, meet Lambert. He is a fellow wolf witcher“ Geralt  noticed the way Lambert’s sparkled.”Lambert, this is my....friend...Jaskier“ Lambert noticed how Geralt paused on ‘friend’ for a moment and wanted to pick on him for it, but changed his mind, deciding instead to insult Jaskier and see the reaction.

“Jaskier? As in the one who was dumb enough to try to befriend you?“ Geralt sighed deeply. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with Lambert.

“I believe insulting the man who could easily ruin your reputation to be dumb“, Jaskier said, smiling pleasantly,”but then again what would I know? I’m just a bard“ Lambert liked this human, he didn’t smell of fear and was ready to throw his insults back. He changed the tactic and starting to flirt. He smiled at the bard, and Jaskier knew he passed some kind of test.

“So is what Geralt says true? That you two are” Lambert glanced at fellow wolf, and smiled charmingly at musician,”just friends?”He said last two words in a disbelieving voice.”I hope Geralt wouldn’t mind sharing...” cue a wicked smile full of promise, his pupil rounding and dilating.

“I’m not a toy to be shared or owned“, Jaskier answered with a flirty smile of his own and adding a wink. Oh yes, Lambert definitely liked this one.

Lambert and Jaskier kept flirting and insulting each other over dinner, becoming more aroused and the scent was making Geralt’s nose twitch. Eventually he told them to go and fuck it out but not too far away, the scent was starting to make him uncomfortable. Jaskier was looking at him with concerned, Lambert was quick to reassure Jaskier that Geralt didn’t mind it at all and that “knowing him he’ll want to cuddle when we come back”. They left Geralt to take care of left-overs and sleeping bags.

Geralt hummed to himself, a habit he picked up from Jaskier, as he moved around camp. He didn’t care the two of them went to “have some actual fun” as Lambert’d put it, he was happy that they liked each other and were attracted to each other, it meant two he cares about coulv. White wolf preferred cuddling over any other form of affection, while Lambert and Jaskier were similar. They needed sex, Jaskier enjoyed it while Lambert loved having sex, especially with people he knew he could trust. The sleeping bags were, indeed, all placed close to each other.

---------

Several weeks later, Jaskier was traveling alone. He was on a road to a bigger settlement when he was attacked by bandits. They thought he’d be an easy target and have coin for them to take, if nothing else they’d happily take his lute. They didn’t expect a witcher to jump into bards defense. The witcher quickly chased them away. Jaskier noticed the man was older, seemingly in late forties or early fifties, and that his medallion was a wolf. Bard figured this must be a wolf witcher and from Geralt’s school.

“Hello, kind witcher!“ Jaskier started dramatically, forgetting to introduce himself, unsurprising considering his barely contained excitement.”I was wondering if you perhaps know Geralt and Lambert of Wolf school?“

The witcher was amused by young man in front of him “Of course I know those two little rascals for I’m the one who’s trained them in sword fighting!” the man was trying to be as dramatic as bard he just met.“I’m Vesemir, and you must be one of my pups flower? The bard named after a flower, I mean?”

The new nickname brought a bright smile on Jaskier’s face. He confirmed that “yes I am in fact Jaskier” asked older man if he’d mind some music? And a song in his honor was most certainly in order, he was after all his wolves teacher. The old wolf gave his new flowery pup an indulgent smile. Jaskier traveled with papa wolf who adopted him (Vesemir kept calling him pup or flower and eventually Jask asked about it....Vesemir admitted to viewing bard the same way he views his witcher pups). When they got to town where they were supposed to split up, flower made several songs in wolfs honour (Ves adored the songs his pup created for him) and bard received a dagger “for protection”. Jaskier knew enough about handling a dagger to be able to protect himself somewhat.

---------

In early autumn Jaskier met up with Geralt again. Geralt invited Jaskier to join him and others in Kaer Morhen. Jaskier was overjoyed, he’d get to see Lammy again! And he’d hopefully meet some other withcers. Geralt and Jaskier made their way to Kaer Morhen much earlier then Geralt usually did and arrived after Vesemir (who was delighted his pups were almost all home) and another witcher, this one was also a wolf and he had scars deforming left side of his face, pulling his upper lip and revealing his teeth. Jaskier didn’t stare, nor was he bothered by scars. He found the witcher, who was taller then Geralt and with boarder shoulders and chest, to be endearing with his shy attitude. Bard was sad when he noticed how he kept trying to hide his scars, Jaskier unable to contain, his excitement and love for this new witcher, pulled the scarred wolf into a hug. Eskel was confused why this pretty songbird wasn’t afraid and "oh this is nice". From day 1 Jaskier called him “Eskie” and always had a smile for big and seemingly scary man.

A week and a half later, Lambert finally arrived, with two new witchers. These two weren’t wolves, one was from Griffin School and the other was a Cat. Jaskier noticed how cat witcher looked over everyone with interest on his face, while griffin looked at Jaskier with open curiosity. When they were introduced, griffin’s, who was known as Coën, seemed excited to speak with him about Oxenfurth and music lessons and a shy “could you show me how to play lute?”. Honorary pup was so happy to see a witcher who wished to learn about his music and could discuss it. Coën reminded him of his lovely White Wolf, but nightingale (as Geralt called him) couldn’t figure out what. Cat, or Aiden as he was introduced, was a lot more like Lammy then Geralt or papa wolf. He was a lot more flirty then insulting (or, as Geralt and Eskel called it, flirting aggressively), and flower was happy to have all attention on him.

After a few days it took to newcomers to settle in, they started training. Aiden invited bard to join, saying he wished to see how he handled his dagger. He was unimpressed, disappointed really. He turned towards Geralt and asked dead serious "Really, Wolf, you travel with such precious human and you don't teach them how to fight???"  Coën joined training the bird how to fight, he adored the bard didn’t wish for him to get injured.

Every couple of days Jaskier and Lambert would disappear and come back smelling like each other. Sometimes Aiden would join them, and Geralt knew Eskel wanted to as well, but...well, he was too insecure and didn’t know Jaskier well (which made things hard for Eskel even more....he preferred to have an emotional connection with his lovers). So the rest of witchers ensured that Eskie and bird spend some time togther, without anyone. Geralt and Coën were fixing a part of the keep, trying to make it functional, Vesemir, like he most often did when he didn’t train with others, was in his lab, making a potion or something, while Lambert dragged Aiden somewhere, presumably to fuck.

Eskel was in the kitchen making bread and singing to himself, when Jaskier entered. “Oh thank Melitele! I thought everyone has gone off doing something dangerous!” the wolf was confused, they had enough meat for the next three days, after all Lambert had a successful hut yesterday, there was no monster bothering them, and Geralt and Coën were working on the keep...Maybe others were sparring? “You can sing” bard said softly, completely in awe of witcher’s deep rough singing voice. “Can we sing together? And can I help you somehow?”

“I thought everyone can sing? If you could pass me some flour that’d be great“ Eskel was even more confused, none of the others ever offered to help him bake, but he wasn’t one to look gift horse in mouth. “And sure, we can sing together tonight, after dinner....I know most popular songs” And from there they kept talking, mostly Jaskier and Eskel was more then happy to let him talk.

That afternoon Geralt and Coën found the two still in kitchen, talking laughing, dancing and making dinner. Geralt felt warmth in his chest, his darling got along with all of witchers and it seemed like Eskel had opened a bit to Jask. Dinner was ready quickly, and all men tucked in. Everything was fine until Aiden took a bit of bread from a plate next to Jaskier. It was spicy....very spicy just like how flower liked it so....cat soon ran around, bumping into things and crying. Vesemir, being the first to realize what happened, brought some milk and forced younger witcher to drink it. Aiden after his pain subsided a bit, rejected to eat anything. Musician apologized over and over again, feeling guilty for convincing Eskie to make some spicy bread for him and then forgetting to warn others. Cat (or Kitty how Jaskier called him.....he was the only one allowed) mentioned forgiving if Jaskier played his lute and sang for them to which bard readily and happily agreed to. All seven of them moved closer to fireplace, Vesemir sitting in his armchair and petting his youngest pup, who was leaning against his leg and strumming his lute, the rest were laying on furs they brought from their rooms in front of fire. After a couple of hours bard became tired and Coën moved him to the furs so he could cuddle with others. Slowly one by one they fell asleep. Vesemir tucked them in (tho if asked he’d never admit he did or that he had a smile) before going to sleep himself.

[felassan]

Tevinter Nights: Random new fact-stuff that I love and think everyone should be aware of

Basically a TN minor highlights reel. Random stuff I appreciated. Spoilers under the cut.

the references to other stories in many of the stories, woven throughout

all the different details about character/different region’ and races’ accents, and characters saying some words in their own languages, like Orlesian and Antivan

Strife the elf is a silver fox with a Scottish accent

Bas-taar[d]

retractable daggers that go in your sleeve, i.e. Assassin’s Creed style hidden blades, are a canonical thing some assassins have

Dalish elf mage shapeshifter who transforms into a halla

Desire Demon taking male form

“Andruil’s tits!”

Vitaar color and pattern has a symbolic meaning

Manfred the skeleton butler

Carriages drawn by undead skeleton horses which glow green

Audric’s driving passion and keen interest in architectural art through the ages and associated trivia knowledge

Audric-Curiosity has to give consent to serve the Mourn Watcher under a modicum of magical control as a librarian otherwise it’s anomie

Older gays

Sten-related cookie reference

Wardens don’t leave anyone behind

the works of Kal-Sharok have more delicacy and skill than those of Orzamar

Dwarves have lyrium charges which are drums with fuses that blow stuff up. I imagine banging the drum = boom

A Tevinter mage who is a Warden

Sutherland and Co are now landed and titled w/ a minor hold of their own;  Ser Donal of the Hinters, Crosscut Brother; Ser Shayd, Lady of Evesol, bard of secret distinction; and Ser Voth Dale’An, free mage by special commendation.

Elven ears twitching in annoyance is a thing that happens

Sutherland and Shayd’s relationship

how the Inquisitor inspires and prompts the feels in Sutherland

Sutherland’s sheer cinnamon rollity. he is pure

Shayd originally came from a place called Dales End

the reason why Voth rarely speaks

Voth seems to favor ice magic

massive exploding amphora full of bees. Dagna’s handywork, Sera-inspired no doubt. Sera would be proud.

“Oh, pebbles!”

Cabot and Elam Ve’mal are now in love. He says she’s beautiful and she tsks in the way that he loves

Master Ignaldo’s Fabulous Circus of Rivain

Dorian’s mom had a dear pet nug until it passed away. its name was Hollix, which means something like “irrepressible rascal” in old Tevene

Josie is a dear friend of Dorian’s and she sends him gifts of choice bottles of wine from her vineyards

Antiva and Rivain have a sort of light rivalry over stuff like “Antivan wine is superior!”

The Inquisitor managed to change Dorian’s views on slavery in the end during his time in the south. He now thinks it’s bad, no longer has slaves - only paid servants - and is ashamed of how long it took him to realize this. he came home to Tevinter with fresh views

Mae is splendidly dressed and “has such a presence!” “You turned to her like you do the first breeze of spring.” She is shrewd. she calls Dorian “dear heart”. she’s courteous and exceedingly generous

Mizzy

Tevinters love their horse-sized lizards and use them to draw carriages (clearly dracolisks)

Solas’ spirit army

Antoine. so cheerful, light-hearted and trying hard to live up to/embody the classical heroics parts of Warden-dom

how grim and dour Anderfels people are lol

Evka is from House Ivo. & as a former-underground dwarf sth she hates about the surface is being rained on, especially in the dark

Charter thinking of, wishing for and missing Tessa

sweet rolls

detailed insight into Sidony’s past and mindset

Cyrros, an example of an elf with high standing and who commands respect among Nevarran nobles. dresses in lavish finery like the nobles and is able to get away with disrespecting/mocking them. they’re afraid of him and bow to him

Lucanis freeing the elven slaves and Vadis and Irian making sure not to kill elven servants or elven Qunari who were just doing their jobs. Teia’s policy not to kill the help, which is probably a House-wide rule in her house

literally everything about Irian... hunter, thief and staff-fighting expert, good fighter/combatant, sought after for recruitment by Qunari and Solas’ goons, used to occupy a high-ranking post in the magisterium and the magister she used to work for was annoyed about losing her skills. can read Qunlat

Laudine’s synesthesia-esque condition

Vyrantium is a very sharp-dressed city where people have all the latest fashions. Vint parties are lavish opulent affairs of excess - they literally have retching vases to vom into when you’ve overindulged so that you can then get back to it. like Roman vomitoriums in popculture

Teia’s eyes are halla-gold

someone worked out that a clay fragment, previously claimed by the Chantry to be artifact that proved elven belief in the Maker’s flowering glory, was in fact a “manual of marital instruction” (so like a tantric sex manual lol? something like the Kama Sutra?). It’s still in a chantry Mother’s sealed vault, and is privately examined on special occasions

The Randy Dowager, anonymous writer who routinely outsells many of the best writers in Thedas with her collections of scarf-fluttering smut.. is none other than Genetivi!! scholarly, serious, devout old Genetivi. everyone is shocked. at one point he snipes to another character that they could not afford her rates lmao

there’s a roaming public house called The Hilt which moves location each month according to a dice roll

big meat-eating creatures called raytooths live in the Minanter River. they have leathery flaps and teeth on the underside, and long tails, and are also referred to as rays. sound like a scary combination of catfish and manta-rays

the Prince of Starkhaven enjoys a solid reputation throughout the Marches. a red Starkhaven tail is the emblem of the Vael family

2 Lords of Fortune were once chased by the Sandy Howler

at the handoff of the amulet from Bharv to Vaea in the tavern, Ser Aaron is surreptitiously watching her back. he’s off to one side pretending not to know her and regaling other customers with stories. thought this was a lovely moment between them

feral barefoot always-smiling sleepy old Grandma Crow, Lessef (and her relationship w/ 76 yo Tainsley), and Ruthless duchess-like Grandma Crow-Queen, Caterina Dellamorte. Crow Grandmas!

Teia and Caterina’s relationship. Teia calling her “Nonna”

getting vengeance for some Dalish

the 5 foot tall male Magister who overcompensates for his height by working out and flexing all the time lmao. its also interesting to find an example of a mage, especially a Magister, who is very physical and feels more at home in military camps w/ soldiers

many Antivans get high by burning a herb like in a lamp, to make the vapor from it. it gives them a heady feeling, a mellow lethargy that suffuses the body. the first joyous slumber is so peaceful, the first time you use it has the greatest effect. sounds like sth you’d find in an opium den

non-mage non-templar lyrium addict

some Crow Talons being elves

abusive exes and racist evil dudes getting their just desserts

Bolivar Nero’s (an elf) family made their fortune as pearl divers/hiring pearl divers and were once the wealthiest elves in Antiva. he lives a lavish lifestyle

Crow history and legends

Antivan gondolas

Teia’s rise to power among the Crows, meteoric at a young age, controversial, for an elf born in an alley with no family or connections. actually in general there are so many examples of competent and variously-powerful elves in this book

Tevinter has examples of floating buildings, floating chandeliers and barman-less bars. shows you what magic can do and why they think the south is quaint and backwards. that stuff is advanced

magic gadgets and booby traps, magic dust that shows what happened in a place, enchanted sound-blocking curtains, street lamp-lighters who use magic to do their job, nuances of what blood magic can do, the capabilities of necromancy, awesome uses of magic like using wind spells to blow a ship.. just all the new details about the ways magic is used in this world and innovative uses of it in the stories

Merry the Mad

the Qunari are not a single mind or monolith, there’s ideological differences and differences of opinion

30 yo Fereldan whisky. Antivan coffee. spiced mulled wine. ice-wine. Charter likes to drink Anderfels mint tea, loose leaf, with 2 sugars.

a mage learning how to do physical staff combat. it just makes so much sense that it would be useful and smart to know how to do that

“the elf currently known as Charter”

[scotianostra]

On 21 July 1796 Robert Burns died in Dumfries.

If you remember my post from the beginning of July when Burns went to stay in The Brow Inn near Ruthwell, to drink from the local well and bathe in the sea, this follows directly on from then.

Here is what his how his how Alan Cunningham,  described the fateful day, he was not quite 12 when Burns came home, Cunningham's father was a neighbour of our bard at Ellisland.

"It was soon spread through Dumfries that Burns had returned from the *Brow much worse than when he went away, and it was added that he was dying. The anxiety of the people, high and low, was very great. I was present and saw it. Wherever two or three were together their talk was of Burns, and of him alone. They spoke of his history, of his person, and of his works - of his witty sayings and sarcastic replies, and of his too early fate with much enthusiasm, and sometimes with deep feeling. All that he had done, and all that he had hoped he would accomplish, were talked of: half-a-dozen of them stopped Dr. Maxwell in the street, and said, "How is Burns sir?" He shook his head, saying, "he cannot be worse, " and passed on to be subjected to similar inquiries farther up the way. I heard one of a group inquire, with much simplicity, "Who do you think will be our poet now?"

Though Burns now knew he was dying, his good humour was unruffled, and his wit never forsook him. When he looked up and saw Dr. Maxwell at his bed-side, - "Alas!" he said, "what has brought you here? I am but a poor crow and not worth plucking." He pointed to his pistols, those already mentioned the gift of their maker, Blair of Birmingham, and desired that Maxwell would accept of them, saying they could not be in worthier keeping, and he should have no more need of them. This relieved his proud heart from a sense of obligation. Soon afterwards he saw Gibson, one of his brother-volunteers by the bed-side with tears in his eyes. He smiled and said, - "John, don't let the awkward squad fire over me!"

His household presented a melancholy spectacle: the Poet dying; his wife in hourly expectation of being confined: four helpless children wandering from room to room, gazing on their miserable parents and but too little of food or cordial kind to pacify the whole or soothe the sick. To Jessie Lewars, all who are charmed with the poet's works are much indebted: she acted with the prudence of a sister and the tenderness of a daughter, and kept desolation away, though she could not keep disease. - "A tremor," says Maxwell, "pervaded his frame; his tongue, though often refreshed, became parched; and his mind, when not roused by conversation, sunk into delirium. On the second and third day after his return from the Brow, the fever increased and his strength diminished. On the fourth day, when his attendant, James Maclure held a cordial to his lips, he swallowed it eagerly - rose almost wholly up - spread out his hands - sprang forward nigh the whole length of the bed - fell on his face and expired. He was thirty seven years and seven months old, and of a form and strength which promised long life; but the great and inspired are often cut down in youth while "Villains ripen grey with time".

The first signs of the illness which would eventually claim Burns’s life began in the winter of 1795 when the poet was confined to his sick-bed for several weeks. His health declined over the course of the months that followed, and from the bard’s correspondence in the summer months of 1796 it would appear that he sensed the finality of this particular episode of ill health.

We know so much about Burns's life because of the letters he wrote to many of his friends, even in his darkest hours he took to the pen, this was a letter to his friend George Thomson on the 4th of July the bard wrote:

‘I received your songs, but my health being so precarious nay dangerously situated, that as a last effort I am here at sea-bathing quarters. – Besides my inveterate rheumatism, my appetite is quite gone; & I am so emaciated as to be scarce able to support myself on my own legs.’ 

Burns was soon aware that the sea-bathing was ineffective, writing to his father-in-law James Armour on the 10th of July that, 

‘I have now been a week at salt water, & though I think I have got some good by it, yet I have some secret fears that this business will be dangerous if not fatal.’

Tragically, Burns’s final letters became increasingly desperate, and the poet expressed deep concern for the welfare of his family. 

To his brother Gilbert Burns  he wrote: 

‘God help my wife & children, if I am taken from their head! – They will be poor indeed. – I have contracted one or two serious debts, partly from my illness these many months, & partly from too much thoughtlessness as to expense when I came to town that will cut in too much on the little I leave them in your hands.’

Money was still at the forefront of his thoughts when he wrote to his cousin on July 12th;

‘When you offered me money assistance, little did I think I should want it so soon. A rascal of a haberdasher, to whom I owe a considerable bill, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process against me, and will infallibly put my emaciated body into jail.’ 

Before this threat could be realised, Burns died surrounded by his family and close friends on the 21st of July 1796.

While biographers and critics have offered several theories surrounding the cause of Burns’s death (many of which are fanciful and without evidence, some even hinting at conspiracy), scholars and medics who have examined the poet’s own account of his illness, together with those of his contemporaries, agree that the poet most likely died from bacterial endocarditis: a serious complication of the poet’s recurring rheumatic illness.

I will hopefully pick this up again in a few days for his funeral........

Pics are of Burns, and his "death room" from Burns Chronicle & Club Directory.