#because they frequently have FLASH FIRE

[usagi-zakura]

I love playing Pokémon S/V trying to find allies to fight a flying terra pokémon that's normally ground.

"Imma bring my electric.." its weak to ground. "Rock is good" Weak to ground. "Iron hands beats everything" its gonna get oneshot because you're gonna cut its HP in half causing it to die to the first earthquake!

[inkskinned]

there's a video on instagram of a man kicking his partner's door in. the top comment is (with over 4 thousand likes): "how about you tell us what you did to make him that angry?"

barring emergency, nobody should be kicking anybody's door in. many of us lived in houses where it was always, somehow, an emergency. there is a strange, almost hysterical calm that comes over you in that moment - everything feels muted, and you almost feel, however incongruently, like you should be laughing. you are living inside of "the emergency." oh my god, you think. i am now a fucking statistic.

there is another comment with 2.8 thousand likes: "if this was a woman doing it to a man, nobody would give a shit."

do people give a shit now, though?

barring emergency, the door should remain standing. the emergency should be panicked, desperate - "i'm coming in there to protect you." many of us know what it feels like when the emergency is instead "i'm coming in there to get you."

1.5k likes: "and yet you post this for notes. glad to see being the victim has become your whole personality."

hysteria is a word connected to womb, from greek. what you're experiencing is so senseless and inhumane that you (a rational creature) try to find any ground within what is irrational and cannot be explained. one of the most frustrating things about staying in bad situations is that we also lie to ourselves. we also ask ourselves - wow. what did i do?

women can be, and often are, also abusers. abuse is not gendered. abuse is not just a "straight person" problem. abuse does not have a face or figure or sexuality. you cannot pick an abuser out of a crowd. an abuser could be actually anybody.

and then so many people rally behind the man kicking the door in. here is something nobody should be doing, right? you want to ask every person that liked that first comment: do you ask this because you side with him? do you ask this because it helps you feel safe from this ever happening?

in some ways, you're weirdly sympathetic to the top comment, because it is the same logic you see frequently. the idea is that the average, normal, sane person doesn't just break down a door. doesn't just shoot up a school. doesn't stalk and kill women. doesn't threaten sexual assault. doesn't run over protesters. doesn't shoot an unarmed black person. doesn't scream at underpaid walmart employees. doesn't just "lose it". something had to have happened, right? because the default (white. straight. cis.) - that is someone who is always, you know. "sane."

(right?)

on a podcast, you hear a sane, normal, rational person. "if you piss me off, i'm going to need to hit something. sorry but i'm not apologizing. that's just who i am that's how it is." his voice almost sounds like he's laughing.

you think of the door, and how you were almost laughing behind it, too. ironically, every real emergency in your life has almost felt peaceful in comparison. fire, car accident, flash flooding - these felt quiet, covenant to you. you'd stood in all of them, feeling them pass over and up to your chin, never actually overwhelming.

but when the door was coming down, you had felt - is there a word for that? there has to be, a word, right.

surely one of us has figured out the word for that, i mean. it's such a large fucking statistic.

[cobrakaisb]

what was i made for?

summary: everybody hates you, but luke could never see you that way; luke hates himself, but he’s always going to be the center of your galaxy.

word count: 2.3k

featuring: angst, reader and luke share a vape (sue me🙈), but also friend dynamics, and official godly parent reveal 🙌, reader and luke are basically together (without the labels).  

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“i hate it here,” you announce, taking a seat at the hermes table for breakfast. 

chris, luke, and katrina all exchange glances. you can sense their nerves from a mile away, and their unease only seems to heighten when you slam your plate and goblet on the table. chris opens his mouth, ready to comment on your behavior, but he decides not to when you throw a nasty glare his way. 

“wow, you’re hera’s daughter,” katrina teases, nudging your shin with her own from across the table. 

“no shit, really?” you reply, stabbing a lone strawberry on your plate.

“no seriously, your glare is exactly like hers. i can see her staring at me in disapproval and everything,” katrina continues with a wide smile on her face.

you flash a tight-lipped smile in response, but don’t take the bait that’s dangling in front of you. over the past few months, you’ve established quite the reputation at camp half-blood. aside from being something akin to a forbidden child -- because it was always assumed that hera would never have children -- your nasty temper, smart mouth, and enormous ego have led to a number of fights. all of them were petty, with campers making claims about you that were so far into leftfield you were surprised they even caught on. 

“what happened this time?” luke asks, his shoulder brushing against yours when he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. 

“that stupid fucking lava wall,” you grumble, taking a bite of your pancakes. 

“okay…” katrina prompts, waving her hand in a continue motion. 

you swallow your food before answering, “i love the lava wall, it’s such a good workout, but i hate that my time slot is the same as the ares kids.” 

“nothing new, but what’d they do now?” katrina asks. 

“annoy me,” you answer.

luke says your name in the same tone he uses when travis and connor get caught pulling some master prank. you can hear the disappointment in his tone, and that elicits an eye roll from you. he doesn’t even know the full story, and he’s already picking a side other than yours, typical. 

“sorry, that we can’t all be the golden child like you,” you sneer, getting up from the table to throw the rest of your food in the burning fire pit.

everybody knows you prayed to your mother when the flames flash a deep purple before flickering back to their normal orange. 

“i’ll talk to her,” katrina says, standing up from her seat. 

luke lifts up his hand, shakes his head no, and replies, “i got it.” 

he follows you out of the dining pavilion and into the woods. you know he’s there because you can hear the cracks of twigs and rustling of bushes as he matches your step. only two people are crazy enough to follow you, but only one of them knows when to walk in silence.

“go back to camp luke,” you demand, pushing a branch out of the way. 

“not until you tell me what the fuck happened at the lava wall,” he answers, dodging the branch before it makes contact with his nose. 

you stop short, looking at long island sound through a small gap in the trees. luke knows the spot; you two come here frequently. he waits for a moment, admiring your straight back. even when you’re feeling your worst, you still muster up the courage to walk with the confidence of a princess. 

“the same old shit. you know the story,” you mumble, eyes squinting from the glare of the sun. 

luke sighs. he doesn’t understand why you put up this mask with him. why do you feel the need to continue being the strong, confident, arrogant, and put-together, daughter of hera when it’s just the two of you? he steps closer to you, standing directly behind you so his arms can wrap around your waist. you lean back into his chest, shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“i never used to care what people thought of me, now it’s all i can think about. this was supposed to be different, luke,” you whisper. 

luke doesn’t say anything in return. he drops his forehead against the back of your head, and squeezes your hips just a bit tighter. camp was supposed to be different. you were meant to feel wanted and seen; he was meant to become a hero with ultimate glory. from the looks of it, neither of you are anywhere close to getting what you deserve. 

—

some days were harder than others, luke knew this. yet, it didn’t make it any easier when one of those hard days came around. each and every time he feels utterly dead to the world, wanting nothing more than to rot away in the comfort of his bottom bunk in the hermes cabin. being head counselor doesn’t afford that luxury. so, he takes a deep breath, musters up every ounce of courage his body could possibly possess, and walks out the door. 

usually, the training arena is quiet in the mornings. nobody, not even the most dedicated warriors, is willing to get up earlier than they need to. sleep is a hot commodity at camp half-blood. and so is privacy. so, luke relishes in the quiet mornings where he’s surrounded by the soft tweets of birds, the slash of his sword, and his heavy breathing. he trains and trains, searching for a way to be good enough again. he used to pray, but after years of going unheard and unanswered, he gave up on connecting with his father.

he thinks of his mother, alone in their house in suburban connecticut. she never doubted hermes, even when he left them for worse; her faith kept her loyal. luke wishes that he had her loyalty, but he doesn’t. instead, all he feels is anger and resentment towards his father. he swings his sword again, cutting through the outer layer of the dummy, and watches as the stuffing falls gracefully to the ground.  

“that’s a lot of slashes,” you comment, and your voice draws him out of his own head.

he ignores you, continuing on with his practice session. 

“you know you can take a break, right?” you ask, coming to stand behind him. 

luke’s arm falls to his side, his sword resting against his thigh. his head falls forehead, and he takes in a deep breath, letting the clean air fill his lungs. your hand sneaks between the strap of his bronze breastplate and his bright orange t-shirt. he takes another breath, and your chin digs into his shoulder before you drop a kiss on the exposed skin by the collar of his shirt. 

you don’t say anything, and luke appreciates that about you. ever since your arrival at camp, he’s tried to pinpoint what exactly draws him to you. every time he comes up empty handed, but at this moment he knows it’s your willingness to just let him be. you never force him to be happy or content with the gods’ and their behavior. you embrace the darkness slowly rising inside of him, even when he tries to suppress it. 

“i just want to be good enough,” luke whispers, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable. 

your arms tighten around him, and you reply, “you are good enough.” 

“not for him,” he mumbles. 

“he’s not good enough for you,” you say assertively. 

luke doesn’t comment on your words. the conviction in your voice is enough to inform him that there’s no changing your mind. he wishes he believed you, but he doesn’t. 

“you’re not the one who failed their quest,” luke mumbles. 

you openly scoff at his words, letting go of him. he waits patiently for your next move and stumbles when you pull him towards your face by the strap of his armor. your eyes met, and luke swear he’s never seen such fury brewing in them.

“don’t ever use that as a determinant of your worth. that quest was impossible luke, and he knew that,” you seethe. 

luke blinks, letting your words sink in. he can’t believe them; he doesn’t believe them. 

“it was my chance, my one chance to show him that i’m worthy,” luke whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. 

you let out a shaky breath and luke can feel the anger and frustration radiating off you in waves. he knows that if he wasn’t holding you in his arms, olympus would fall. he blinks, and you’re standing there, in the middle of crumbled temples and the debris of ancient ruins with the fiercest look in your eyes. you’re hera’s daughter, and you’re loyal to a fault, he thinks.

“i just don’t know how much longer i can do this,” he confesses, kissing your earlobe. 

“me too,” you answer, squeezing him tighter. 

—

the two of you are sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the edge as your toes barely graze the surface of the water. you always meet here after all the campers in the hermes cabin settled into bed. when he was able to sneak out and away from their curious eyes.

“i hate it here,” you whisper, leaning further back into luke’s chest.

“you don’t hate it here,” he mumbles, fumbling around in the pocket of his cargo pants. 

“i do,” you answer with certainty. “everybody here hates me. except maybe you and katrina,” you continue. 

luke doesn’t accept or deny your statement. instead, he just hands you the orange stick. you scoff at him, but take the vape from his hands anyways. one thing about luke, he feeds your addictions; every single one of them. instead of thanking him, like you normally would, you bring the vape to your mouth, inhaling deeply. you wait a second, letting the toxins fill your lungs, and then release the smoke in one puff. there’s nothing sexy or hot about the action, but luke squeezes your side, pulling you a bit closer. 

“i can’t believe my plug is my boyfriend,” you joke, but there’s no happiness in your tone. 

luke pokes your side. you switch the vape to your left hand, holding it out to him. you wait patiently for him to take it, but he doesn’t. that confuses you. you turn to face him, forehead bumping against his chin. it hurts, but you just grit your teeth instead of saying anything. luke grimaces, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead. 

“there are other people here who like you,” luke says.

“name them,” you demand, taking another hit. 

luke takes the item from you, uses it, and then answers, “chris.” 

“is your friend not mine,” you reply. 

luke rolls his eyes. “connor and travis,” he continues. 

“enjoy torturing me, not my company. besides, they’re like ten,” you say. 

“okay then, what about clarisse?” luke asks.

now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “clarisse tolerates me.” 

“that’s more than i can say,” luke answers, and you snort at his response. 

luke smiles softly at you, and you feel your cheeks heat up. you hate when he does that. when he looks at you like you’re the only person he could possibly dream about. there are days where there's such deep admiration for you in his eyes, you wonder if he leaves burnt offerings in your name instead of the gods.

you turn his face in the opposite direction and whisper, “don’t do that.” 

“do what?” he asks nonchalantly.  

“you know what,” you answer, shooting him a pointed look. 

luke grins. it’s proud and cocky, telling you that he knows exactly what he’s doing. his brown eyes crinkle at the corners, and his scar bunches up with the upturn of his lips. you think he looks the prettiest in this moment; in the dark of the night, with messy curls, grimy skin, and a vibrant smile. you turn again, so that your legs are draped across his lap, and wrap your left arm around the back of his neck. luke’s left hand, the one previously resting against your side, lands on your right thigh, and he squeezes the flesh there as he kisses your temple. 

“do you think we moved too fast?” you ask, taking the vape from his right hand. 

luke waits, expecting you to take a hit, but you just look at him with eager eyes.

“i think we’re doing everything right,” he explains. 

his words hold a deeper meaning that you refuse to acknowledge at the moment. you know what’s going on, but you don’t want to think about it. what would mother say?, you wonder. you lean your head against luke’s shoulder, nose brushing against the crook of his neck, and close your eyes.

“do you think icarus knew he was falling to his death?” luke asks, breaking the silence.

it takes you a moment, but you respond, “maybe. i’m not sure.”

“i mean he was flying the whole time, and then suddenly, he’s plummeting into the mediterranean,” luke continues, taking the vape from your hand.  

“maybe he wanted to die,” you reply, tilting your head to meet his brown eyes. 

a confused expression overcomes luke’s face, propelling you to continue on: “he must have known that the sun would melt the wax, and then his wings would break. i think icarus meant to die, trying to send a message to daedalus or even maybe the gods.”

luke ponders your words for a minute. the gears in his head turning as he contemplates the truth behind your theory. is that what we’re doing?, he wonders. the brewing plans between the two of you linger over his head like a dark cloud, but he can’t bring himself to regret anything.

“so icarus had a greater purpose…like us,” luke observes, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“exactly,” you answer, leaning into his side. 

luke hands the vape back to you, and you pocket it for good this time. he exhales deeply, engulfing you in a cloud of mango-scented smoke. it burns your lungs, but at least you feel something, which is more than you can say as of lately. 

“i just want to be happy,” luke announces. 

“happy and free,” you decide, kissing his cheek delicately.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @used2beee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcillia @obxstiles @maraschinocherry3

[dtfpeta]

Touch starved Simon who rarely likes to give up control but is just so addicted to how good you can make him feel. The soldier who is quiet more often than not until he is underneath your fingertips and begging for you, for more of your touch. He was never one for words but his mewls and sounds of attention only make his begging face that more addictive. Edging him for what would feel like hours to him when in reality it had only been 20 minutes. "Please please please please..." an endless mantra that coincided with his jutting hips that sought the warmth of your soft palms against his slick and aching length. Grunts and heavy breaths make their frequent appearance when your near burning tongue enters the mixture of torture you set on him. Sucking at the sensitive head of his cock and struggling to take much past that.

You weren't raised a quitter though. Simon's pleasure drunk state that was caused just by your hands and part of your hot mouth alone only spurred you on. The more you lowered yourself down him, the harder he screwed his eyes shut. An occasional gag leaving your dick filled throat as tears now ran down both of your faces. Simon's being from the agonous pleasure filling his senses, yours being from the struggle of keeping all of him down your esophagus. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

Simon had a clear view of your head bobbing up and down his length while you flashed your glossy eyes at him, occasionally closing them to focus on the task at hand. It wasn't until his 5th, "Can I cum? It feels too good, I need to baby." that you finally had mercy on him and quickened the already rapid pace at which you jerked him off. A string of gritted swears left him as he threw his head forward and came into your open mouth, a dark shade of red washing over his features as you swallowed his seed and went back to clean up the mess between his legs. He jolted his legs at the sensitivity but allowed you to continue only because you looked so needy to stay attached to him.

When you finally separated from him he was still trying to calm his accelerated heartbeat with harsh breaths through his nose. His hooded eyes lifted to meet yours when you gave him a soft smile and kissed his forehead. He would soon be further pampered with a cold beverage and a hot shower to relax the nerves you had just lit on fire.

[hotluncheddie]

Honey Boy

wc: 1.3k | rated: M | tags: 1920s au, food as a love language, not cis flapper Eddie Munson 

˚⊹♡

Steve Harrington used to be the most eligible bachelor in all of New York City. Destined to take over his father’s nicotine empire, and make the family even richer. That was, until Steve Harrington got caught in an apartment fire. Clocked in the head by a steel beam while helping a young boy out. 

Steve Harrington can’t take over the business anymore, because sometimes his head hurts so bad he can’t seen. Sometimes it hurts so bad his legs don’t work. 

Now Steve Harrington is married to one Robin Buckley, socialite who writes poetry published under a mans name, and who comes from a good family. A solid flock; enough to get Harrington Sr to stop sniffing around proposals that might’ve made Steven useful to him again. 

But, you only had to enter their apartment once to see that their bedrooms were distinctly separate. Only had to watch them together in public for a moment to see their touching never went past friendly. 

No, now Steve Harrington lives on an allowance, goes to dinners once a month to show his face; coming back from them quieter, fog always lasting a few days. Doing so in order to, amongst other things, frequent a speakeasy on Saturday nights; hidden under a barbers shop in Harlem. 

And, now, this Steve Harrington, also, bakes. Pastries, cakes and desserts from across the pond. Anything, everything, the finest you can think of. 

And Eddie Munson, you see, knows all this about Steve Harrington. Knows all about this Steve Harrington, because, every weekend, Steve goes to the club, under the barber shop in Harlem, to take home one, particular, very special, girl. 

Him. 

‘No, slowly.’ Steve murmurs, holding the bite of pie just out of reach of Eddie’s lips. ‘Open.’ 

Eddie does. 

‘Hold it baby. Taste it, let it melt.’ He whispers, patting the corners of Eddie’s mouth with a napkin. Watching Eddie swallow, eyelashes fluttering, half for Steve’s sake and half because it just tastes so damn good. 

‘Don’t mess up my lipstick, s’not easy getting this dolled up.’ Eddie mumbles as Steve scoops up another mouthful, the fine porcelain and small fork held so gently in this large hands. 

Steve smiles, pausing, laying down the cutlery to cradle Eddie’s cheek in his palm and run a thumb under his kohl lined eye. ‘Never, you’re berries baby.’ He says, flashing his teeth. Lifting that fork again to feed him another slow bite. 

And this is all Steve asks for, really. The only time during the night where Steve requests Eddie does as he says. Otherwise, Eddie can do as he likes, orders Steve around hand and foot if he pleased, fuck him, not fuck him, get fucked, get blown. But not this part, this in between part. After a couple hours at the joint, with the good hooch, and a little dancing; Steve will eventually pull Eddie away. Away from the guys who want to get their hands up his beaded dress, who pull him in extra close for the slow dance, buy him a drink, light his cigarette unprompted. But everyone now knows that Saturdays are Steve’s night, Eddie might twirl and drink and bat his eyelashes at any sap he pleases; but he always walks out hand in hand with Harrington Jr. 

Following him back to Steve’s now familiar apartment, where Eddie can kick off his heels and lounge back on the velvet sofa. Where Steve will have baked something special in preparation, requesting to feed Eddie every bite slowly, so slowly. Until every morsel is gone. 

And Eddie lets him, is paid for it, handsomely. But they both know that, now, it’s got nothing to do with the money, not really. Eddie could go home with any number of rich clients on a Saturday night, multiple, and has done. But he doesn’t, not now. 

No, now, it’s only Steve. Every Saturday, like clockwork. 

No, it’s not all about the money, not for Eddie. And it maybe wasn’t ever, really, for Steve. 

The first time Eddie went home with him Steve had flushed, fluttered, almost too scared to touch him. Offering up chocolate covered strawberries and biting his lip raw when the juice dripped down Eddie’s chin. Then ate Eddie out until spit dripped down his thighs. 

Now his Steve has less reservation. Always seeking skin, seeking touch, begging to be able to give. 

And Eddie feasts on it. 

Starving. 

Once the desert is tucked away, fed, devoured, consumed. Poured, dripping ambrosia into his very centre. All of him now a little more padded thanks to Steve’s steady devotion; ribs not so visible, hips no longer concave and thighs that are just starting to brush together under dresses and between nylon. Once that’s done, now, Steve kneels, happy and satiated, content with having completed his only desire for the night. 

The rest, now, is up to Eddie. 

And Eddie wants to smoke, and pet Steve’s cheek where it rests between his legs, on his inner thigh. 

He blows smoke at Steve’s face, watches him inhale, eyelashes fluttering. 

He’s a funny man, this Steve of his. Eddie thinks he’s the bees knees, sweet as honey, pretty as cherry pie. 

‘Kids at the club talk about something called transcendence honey boy. You know anything about that?’ Eddie asks, scratching Steve’s scalp with long, painted nails.  

‘No.’ Steve says, eyes closed, leaning into the touch. 

‘Somethin’ about reaching a higher power, becoming more just through talkin’ and thinkin’ and bein’.’ 

‘Oh yeah?’ Steve says, listening, but the hand stroking slowly higher up Eddie’s calf says his mind is split in half. 

‘Mmhm, I think you might just be doing it, only with you it’s through eatin’.’ Eddie smirks, spreading his legs a little more. 

Steve looks up, glassy eyes getting clearer, he looks; affronted, confused, aroused. ‘I jus’ like seeing you looked after, seeing you warm and relaxed. Like seeing the way your eyes droop when you taste something good, the way you sit different in the chair, the way your legs shift and your cheeks blush. I just think food looks good on you baby.’ And Steve’s fingers slide up Eddie’s thigh, under the beaded silk of his dress, over the plush that sits over muscle. The weight, the width, the softness that’s been gained - gained by the offerings of Steve’s own hands. 

Eddie gasps softly as those hands squeeze his thighs, warm and pliant and greedy. 

‘Do you like that thought, doll? What did you call it?’ 

‘Transcendence.’ 

‘Yeah, you like it? Does it make you feel good sugar?’ He asks, eager. Always so eager. 

Eddie thinks maybe it does, thinks that maybe the way Steve does most things might just be the best feeling in the world. 

‘Take me to bed honey boy.’ 

Steve smiles, boyish and blinding and lifts Eddie up bridal style, making him cackle. Wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and biting at his earlobe, sticking a hand down his half unbuttoned dress shirt to grope at the hair and muscle. 

Never fails to make Eddie feel like a real dame this one. 

Which is still not always an easy task, even with how Eddie chooses to present himself, how he loves. What he does and how he does it. Still not easy. But when Steve lays Eddie’s down, removing clothes between bites and throaty giggles. Kissing and kissing. And kissing as he does. Eddie’s knees part easily and his fingers grip tousled brown hair and Steve opens him up, slick and wanting and hungry. 

And when Eddie is filled, enveloped in Steve’s warmth, the oven of his chest, baking Eddie alive. Eddie feels it again, maybe, that higher place. 

‘You’re my girl, you’re my girl.’ Steve will pant, hot and wet in Eddie’s ear. Chant it until it drips like honey through his bones. Taking Eddie there, ascending. Toes curled, moan breathy and needy and high, filled up something special, a girl who is. 

That’s when Eddie feels it, for the second time that night; divine, feminine, transcended. 

Loved. 

˚⊹♡

Taglist (& people who showed interest <3) : @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

@marvel-ous-m @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson @postmodernau @steddie-island

[impossiblesuitcase]

Since Cinder is able to lower and raise her audio interface, it's likely that her hearing is artificial and she was deafened from the fire. So I have a modern AU headcanon where Cinder is deafened by the fire and wears hearing aids as a child. But when they break, Adri won't pay to get news ones or have them repaired. So Cinder relies on lip reading and she and Peony start learning sign from the internet. After a few years Cinder begins learning mechanics and is able to fix her hearing aids. She now prefers sign as she uses it with her deaf friends so she often turns her hearing aids off or doesn't wear them.

Flash forward to when Cinder is at university on a mechanical engineering scholarship. Kai reads her name in the uni newsletter under the scholarship recipients and is super impressed to see all the engineering awards she won as at such a young age. He comes up behind her one day and starts speaking. She says nothing. He feels really awkward and walks away. Then later on he sees her across the lawn with a group of other deaf students signing.

He is so invested in getting to know her that he starts learning sign in between classes and studying. Then one day he 'happens' to be strolling by the route she frequents and 'accidentally' drops his book which she picks up. He signs 'thank you' and they start signing. He's slow and messes up a lot but she finds it cute.

A few months pass and they build a friendship through sign. Kai wants to ask her out but he's embarrassed that he only has the signing abilities of a toddler. Then one day he sees her at a party and is walking up to her when Thorne pops around the corner, yells "Hey Cinder!" and she waves and says, "Hey Thorne."

Kai bluescreens. He runs up to her and splutters out, "you can hear?!"

She parts the hair covering her ears to show off her hearing aids. "I speak more than I sign because of my classes. I thought you already knew."

Kai says he didn't, and asks why she never spoke to him since she could.

She shrugs. "I thought you were only hanging out with me because you wanted to practise your sign."

He gapes. "I was signing to you because I want to date you!"

Cinder is flustered; she already thought he was a cool guy, but to hear that he learnt sign specifically so he could communicate with her is touching.

Over the next few weeks they speak and she teaches him more sign. One day she teaches him a new sentence and he asks what it means. She tells him, "let's go on a date."

[la-pheacienne]

“Robert will never keep to one bed,” Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm’s End. “I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.” Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. “Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”

For the first time in years, he found himself remembering Rhaegar Targaryen. He wondered if Rhaegar had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not.

Robert would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Ned Stark kept his vows.

"Lyanna is a hypocrite for calling out chronic cheaters like robert and then running away with Rhaegar" this is truly funny, the fact that you associate a man who chronically visits brothels, fucks child prostitutes and leaves bastards all around, with a man who left his one (1) arranged marriage for another girl he fell in love with. Especially when Ned already makes this exact comparison in the very first book, first between Robert and Rhaegar and then between Robert and himself, just to showcase how fucked up in the head his BFF Robert was compared to both Rhaegar and himself.

And now I'm not saying Ned should be uncritically treated by the reader as this paragon of virtue and feminism. I'm saying, however, that Ned's standards of "decent behavior towards women" are pretty close to the writer's standards of decent behavior towards women, in universe, considering he has one of the healthiest marriages and probably the healthiest relationship with his daughters in the asoiaf universe and his one basic fatal flaw regarding his sister is precisely arranging her marriage with his BFF Robert, a decision that haunts him to this day considering he spends one whole book reflecting on and regretting his friendship with Robert and his decision to marry his sister to Robert. And this regret is now reinforced by every single one of Robert's actions during or prior to AGOT that Ned finds repulsive, aka his murderous obsession with Dany, his violent treatment of Cersei, his mistreatment of all these women/children and their kids, his approval of the murder and rape of Elia and her kids.

Ned now finally realizes what Lyanna already instinctively knew about Robert's nature from the get go (even if she didn't have all the data at the time). He should have known what she already instinctively knew, despite being so young, but he was too far gone into his delululand of sacred bromance with Robert to care. Now he knows precisely why his sister chose Rhaegar and now he reflects on all this and his regret and guilt run so deep but it's too late because Lyanna and Rhaegar are dead and there is nothing he can do about it. And the harrowing recounting of Lyanna's death in Ned's pov is something for sure, but let's not forget the understated yet still discernable regret and sadness in his visual memory of Rhaegar's death which is in sharp contrast with his complete apathy and emotional detachment towards his living breathing friend who is standing right in front of him:

“I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her.” “You did,” Ned reminded him. “Only once,” Robert said bitterly. They had come together at the ford of the Trident while the battle crashed around them, Robert with his warhammer and his great antlered helm, the Targaryen prince armored all in black. On his breastplate was the three-headed dragon of his House, wrought all in rubies that flashed like fire in the sunlight. The waters of the Trident ran red around the hooves of their destriers as they circled and clashed, again and again, until at last a crushing blow from Robert’s hammer stove in the dragon and the chest beneath it. When Ned had finally come on the scene, Rhaegar lay dead in the stream, while men of both armies scrabbled in the swirling waters for rubies knocked free from his armor. “In my dreams, I kill him every night,” Robert admitted. “A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves.“ There was nothing Ned could say to that.

Ned's trajectory from being a victim of the evil targaryen dynasty and Robert's faithful friend to questioning the entire basis of his old allegiance and realizing that actually Rhaegar maybe should have been King and that his sister was right about Robert because he's indeed full of shit, his subsequent guilt, regret and disillusionment over the regime he enabled, and his inability to save his house from collapse are all core elements of his arc and why his character is so fascinating and tragic. Ned's gradual deconstruction of Robert and his friendship with him is the thought process that led to all of the above. Ned remembering Lyanna's quote about Robert is there precisely to reinforce his disillusionment with Robert and highlight his difference with Rhaegar, a recurring theme in his arc. And it is particularly funny that so many people that call themselves Stark Stans TM (!!!) just swipe away all of the subtext and actual text surrounding this quote just to prove a point that is directly antithetical to the quote, its meaning and its function in the narrative, while also framing lyanna as a hypocrite over it lmao.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 8

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

If things go according to plan, Eris and Y/N’s first official date could end in hot, steamy sex. Or, it could end in complete and utter chaos - because when do things ever go according to plan? Azriel almost has a good time, until he doesn’t. We also FINALLY meet Tamlin’s daughter.

Part 7 Part 7.5 Headcanon

Warnings: Alcohol, language, smutty content, assault with non-consensual kissing, breeding kink (kind of)

An evening breeze blew through Velaris sending a slight chill through the champagne golden silk dress I’d chosen for the evening. A caress of warmth rose up from the fingers I’d threaded through Eris’, heat continuing up my arm and throughout my body, counteracting the mild chill.

When he’d shown up to my door right on time, dressed in a deep forest green tailored suit with the top unbuttoned and a turtleneck that was - For one, so perfectly molded to his torso that I practically salivated as fantasies of licking his abs flashed through my mind. And two, conveniently matched my dress perfectly - I almost said “Fuck the date.” and jumped on him then and there.

He’d arrived carrying three things. A bouquet of hydrangeas for my mother, symbolizing gratitude for her grace with the current situation. Freesia bulbs for my little sister to add to her Sprite garden if she wished, a symbol of friendship. I realized the double meaning of it, to draw in sprites with wishes for friendship but also to symbolize their new budding friendship. My mother smiled softly as she realized it too.

For me, he’d brought a “Fire Poppy”, apparently native to his court. His hesitance to express the meaning of the flowers, told me enough. Fire. Passion. But the incredibly faint dust of pink on his freckled cheeks left me wondering if perhaps there was something more.

Father only appeared at the last moment to kiss my forehead and likely give a seething look toward Eris while doing so that warned, Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I won’t. Eris paid no mind.

And now here we were, walking through the streets of Velaris hand in hand. Eris’ focus remained intently upon me as I pointed out various shops that I would frequent. I pointed out one that I loved as a child and Azalea still adored. The window was decorated with paint splatters of primary colors that blended together into a rainbow mirroring the Sidra and inside floated hundreds of miniature fae lights imitating the skies of Night Court.

Eris paused as we stood before the shop. “Can we take a look inside?”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely perplexed by his interest in this shop of all the ones we’d wandered past.

“It’s a surprise.” He stated.

Because why would anything with Eris be anything but secretive?

Eris read my responding roll of the eyes for exactly what it was. “Surely you realize there is a difference between a surprise and a secret?”

I couldn’t help myself. “Many of your secrets have left me feeling quite surprised, Eris. Certainly you would realize that?”

He huffed a silent laugh leaving me on the street to go into the store. Set in my stubborn ways, I refused to let him win and stood outside waiting.

Eris was back by my side eight minutes later with a small canvas bag. I raised an eyebrow. “What’d you get?”

“Ah, if you wanted to know, you could have come in with me. Guess it’s my secret to keep.”

“Mother spare me. You are insufferable.” I muttered stepping ahead of him down the street. His long strides caught up with mine within a few steps.

He once again wound his fingers through mine. “You love it.”

And I hated that it was true.

“You’re not going to tell me what you got?”

“Just a gift for a friend.”

———————-

Eris had reserved a table at Sevenda’s where Sevenda herself eagerly greeted us. She ushered us to a private section of the restaurant, lit with candles and within earshot of a performing pianist. She’d kissed me on the cheek and given Eris a respectful bow of the head before bringing out a mouthwatering appetizer of some delectable cheese sauce she’d recently added to her menu.

The secluded setting of our table, incandescent glow flickering off the candles, and soft melody floating in from the piano, all flowed together into a very intimate setting. Strange that I had bared myself to this male so many times, and performed every sexual act imaginable with him, yet I’d never felt so exposed to him as I did in this very moment.

Eris checked his blazer, and gods… I only ever wanted to see him in fitted turtle necks or absolutely fucking nothing again. The male was delicious and his gaze…. He was greedily drinking me in as if he’d splay me out on the table itself and feast. There was no way he couldn’t smell the arousal pouring off of me. I sure as hell could smell his, and it was far more mouthwatering than any of the glorious spices wafting through the restaurant.

Before I could give in to my instincts, Eris’ low tone interrupted. “If you keep looking at me like that, Y/N, I’m not going to make it through this dinner.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

He audibly groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Just as our mutual eye fucking grew so intense that I genuinely wondered if Eris really was about take me then and there, our waiter approached with a bottle of the Inner Circle’s favorite wine. “Compliments of the High Lord.” Making eye contact with Eris, the male suddenly seemed to remember who he was in the presence of as he uncomfortably cleared his throat, “of the Night Court.”

Eris paid no mind and thanked the waiter. Surprise crossed the males face as Eris took the bottle from him and poured our glasses himself.

When the waiter took our orders and returned to the kitchen, Eris’ gaze returned to me. His eyes again roving over my body but lingering on my face. He smirked when he realized I was flushing under his intense eyes. “Are you nervous, little Shadowsinger?” He asked. His tone predatory.

I took the opportunity to send a shadow to caress the shell of his ear, effectively shutting him up.

“Now that we’re alone,” I ran my foot up the length of his leg, stopping the journey just short of where I so desperately wanted to feel him. “How long have you had an an apartment here and why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Ahh yes, excellent talk for a first date.” Eris mused, raising the wine glass to his plush lips and taking a long, slow sip before continuing. “Perhaps, I wanted a place to see you without you having to travel through multiple courts to find me.”

“Do you not wish for me to come to the Autumn Keep any longer?”

Eris’ change in tone took me by surprise as it became stern, the voice of a High Lord and not the bedroom voice of my lover. “Don’t you dare think that for a second. There’s nothing mo-“

He stopped himself mid-sentence shifting uncomfortably. “I enjoy your presence in my keep, in my bed, Y/N. But I also like to have the opportunity to visit you in your home court.”

My heartbeat quickened at the power flowing off of him, the desire in his amber eyes.

“So, Rhys was totally fine with you having a place here, just to hook up with his niece?”

“Diplomacy, darling. It is far easier to have a place here for times that negotiations and other meetings run over. It also benefits him to be able to have eyes on a fellow High Lord, no? It was not a difficult matter to convince him.

And I was going to tell you, you just happened to pick up the hobby of drunkenly wandering the streets before I had the opportunity.”

“I was fine.”

I was not fine. He knew it. I knew it. I was borderline feral that night.

“It wasn’t you I was concerned about. It was the poor citizens running the other way, screaming of a rabid, shadow-creature roaming Velaris in search of its next meal.”

I smiled. “For the second time this evening, Eris Vanserra, you are insufferable.”

“And again, little one, you love it.”

I rolled my eyes and took a swig of wine.

————————

Eris

She was fucking captivating. Eris drunk in every detail of Y/N like she was the wine flowing from her glass.

She had to know she looked like a goddess. Had he told her? She could read him like a well-adored book at this point. She read every look he gave her without him needing to speak a word. I want you. You’re perfect. I need you. You’re more perfect than I ever dared dream. I would kiss the earth you walked on if you only asked.

Shit, could she read that all on his face? Should he tell her how damned gorgeous she was or would she give him that all-too-enticing look of “Spare me the compliments, High Lord, you can strip and ravish me once we’re alone.”

And gods, he was going to. He had plans for his little Shadowsinger tonight, plans involving carefully undressing her and pressing kisses to her silken skin, replacing each bit of fabric slipping off of her body with a press of his lips. Instead of burning that lovely little number that was hugging her mouth-watering curves, he would proudly display it in the Autumn Court’s archives. He was a romantic, after all.

Of course, before putting it behind glass for safe keeping, he’d be binding those pretty little wrists behind her back with said dress. He was also a deviant.

As for his plans after that? They were far too filthy to fantasize about at the table.

“Your aroma is rather fragrant.” Her teasing voice broke him from his thoughts.

“And you’re rather intoxicating. We make quite the pair, love.”

And there it was - the little blush she always tried so hard to hide from him.

If just the term “love” brought that to her face, what lovely shades of pink would her cheeks light up with if he laid it all out right now? If he told her how she’d fucking ruined him for anyone else? That to taste her was to taste the nectar of the gods? That he was so hopelessly in love with her that there was no crawling out of this pit of desire, and he’d sooner drown in his need for her than ever swim up for air.

The urge to do just that frightened him. Why did he think this date was a good idea? As far as his self control went, it was a terrible idea. And as far as he cared at this point, it was the best idea. He was here, in front of her, and nothing else mattered.

————————————

Eris had always thought himself better than the primitive beasts fae turned into when it came to their mates. But he truly realized how wrong he was when after dinner, Y/N had requested to walk very slowly along the river until her stomach wasn’t, as she so elegantly stated it, “bursting at the seams.”

Given that after the wonderful meal they’d devoured, he too was struggling, he obliged her, draping his suit’s jacket as well as his arm over her shoulders. She pressed a hand to her very, very, slightly bloated abdomen, in an effort of easing the discomfort. Such a simple gesture that should have meant absolutely nothing but….

An inferno blazed within him at the thought of her glowing with a round belly, the mating bond’s most primal instinct roaring at him to winnow her away immediately and fill her so utterly full of him that there would be no questioning of whose she was. His.

He prayed to the mother or whomever would listen that the breeze would blow the sickeningly strong scent of his arousal far away.

————————

Y/N

The gallery was packed. Unsurprisingly, anyone and everyone wanted to come out to brush elbows with the Inner Circle and who could blame them? Unlike the other courts of Prythian, Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre actually interacted with their people. Well, the people of Velaris at least. Feyre was respected as High Lady but she was revered as an artist. Proceeds from her own work went directly back into the arts district.

“Beautiful.” Eris mused approaching a work of art toward the back wall but keeping his eyes on me. I sipped the champagne an attendant handed me upon arrival, needing it to get through the rest of this evening.

Especially needing it to get through the work of art he was approaching.

“This.” Eris motioned toward the piece, “is stunning.”

“It’s not for sale. Just a work from one of Feyre’s students.”

The art, featuring darkness floating upward from the bottom and a blaze falling from the top, intertwining with licks and whirls of flame and shadow in the middle.

“Cost is of no concern to me, little one. I need it.”

A sing-song voice came from behind us. “It’s magnificent isn’t it?” Feyre asked.

“What can I do to acquire such a fine piece of art?”

“You’ll have to ask the artist.” She nodded toward me.

“Aww, come on my lovely niece. Think of all the supplies it could fund.”

“You’re a busybody.”

She only gave an airy laugh before disconnecting the mental bond and returning to the attendees.

“Wouldn’t it look lovely displayed for all of my court to see?”

My gut lurched and I wasn’t sure if it was from imposter syndrome or excitement.

“Fine.” I’ll make a deal with you, Eris Vanserra. He raised an eyebrow. “This art is very personal to me. And despite the fact that it is hanging in the gallery, I want it to be for your eyes only. Do you agree to hang it in your chambers?”

Eris gave a faux pout. “And not show my lovely lady’s art for all the world to admire?”

My heart raced as I quipped too quickly, not allowing the time to change my mind. “Perhaps I only want to be yours to admire.”

Eris visibly gaped at the statement and my heart sank. Had I read all of his adoration wrong? Was I going to humiliate myself just as I had two years ago when he’d left me on the dance floor and I swore I’d never let him have that power over me again?

He swallowed a lump in his throat. His voice breaking slightly. “And your payment terms?”

“Oh you’ll be paying out the ass for it.”

He grinned. “As one does for the finest things in life. I’ll take it.”

A beat of silence.

“And I’ll take you too, if you’ll have me.”

And with that he leaned in to kiss me, soft and hard, fervently and slowly, wanting more yet only needing this.

A throat cleared behind us as father interrupted. He looked to me and to the art behind me.

“I never realized….” He spoke softly as he took in the work.

I flushed, the work now feeling far too intimate under his gaze.

My father turned to Eris. “You’re purchasing this?”

Eris nodded. “A worthy investment, yes?”

My father remained tense but something in his eyes softened. “A very worthy investment.”

Father leaned in to kiss my forehead. “Enjoy your night sweetheart.”

It was at that moment Adish appeared, his Day Court friends Hem and Apollo in tow along with Nyx and a female I’d never seen before. Nyx looked in my direction with a wink as he saw the piece Eris and I stood before, before heading with the group for glasses of champagne.

Eris spoke, “I’m going to speak with Feyre regarding reservation of the piece before anyone else tries to snag it out from under me.”

“It’s not for sale, Eris. Nobody else would be able to purchase it.”

He pressed his warm lips into mine. “I won’t risk a good thing.”

I blushed, dismissing him.

Nursing my champagne, I perused the various pieces decorating the gallery walls when a female voice came from behind me. “If you wanted your father’s attention, there are better ways than whoring yourself to Autumn Court trash.”

I turned around to see the female Nyx had entered with. Her dark hair and blue eyes fooling nobody. Clever little shapeshifter.

“And I didn’t realize your father was in the habit of allowing females to leave his manor.”

She grinned. “Oh come on, he locked her in ONE time...or at least that’s what he tells me. He really can be an overbearing asshole sometimes.”

I laughed. “I missed you so much, you bitch. Nyx needs to stop hoarding you.”

“Please” she scoffed. “I don’t need Tamlin and Rhys’ melodrama to complicate things.”

“Ha, I’m sure Nyx filled you in on all of the drama in my world recently.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yes, I’ve been living vicariously through your escapades.”

She leaned in to hug me. “So” I took in the brown hair she’d chosen for the evening. “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Mmm, as enticing as that would be. I prefer your blonde hair and green eyes. It does something for me.”

“It does something for Nyx too.”

I pretended to vomit before Nyx stepped in. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend time with my lady before she decides to leave with you instead and I get stuck with the fireling.”

“He’s quite fun, Nyx. I’m sure you’d enjoy the ride.”

Nyx choked on his drink and whisked Layla away with him, leaving me to take in the art in peace.

A few more minutes passed and my shadows grew restless as if contemplating the same thing as me: Eris should be back by now.

Feyre had returned to the gallery with no Eris in sight. I searched, passing Adish and Apollo, my parents and Azalea, Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, even Amren, but no Eris.

Had he left? Did I scare him away?

No, his response was sincere. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t, right?

I walked down a quiet hallway, stepping away from the crowd. “Eris?” I whispered into the quiet of the hall.

Two shadows returned with no information but another returned frantic. “Bad.” “Go.”

I hurried in the direction my shadows shot out, winding further and further down the hall.

My heart stopped. In front of me was the radiant, gorgeous Hemera, pressed up against my man. Lips crashing into his.

“Bad.” My shadow repeated. Whirling to show me something.

Eris saw me and his eyes blew wide, shaking his head.

Hemera turned, wicked grin contorting her gorgeous features into something cruel.

“Sorry, hon. He’s just so needy and so pretty. Can you blame me?”

Did this bitch really think I’d simper and turn away? Oh no. My shadows continued their whispers.

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

A sliver of silver caught the dim lights shining down upon them, a blade held to Eris’ neck.

Eris stared at me wide eyed as my shadows erupted into a frenzy around me in effort to distract the Day Court female.

She jolted and her blade knicked his neck and I felt a sudden spike of fear in my gut but the fear, it didn’t come from me. It was coming from…. Eris.

Holy shit.

Willing all of my power to the surface, my tone turned cold, dangerous. “I suggest you step away from my mate.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court. Eris fucking Vanserra. My mate.

I gave a tug in return to his emotions. A gentle reminder that I had this under control and he instantly tugged back.

He knew. Holy shit, he had known.

I could be angry later, now I needed to save his ass.

A commotion came from behind me. Adish and Apollo rushing in. “What the-“ Adish started. “Sorry, friend.” Apollo spoke before the fucker cast a sedation spell on him.

Apollo towered over me. “You weren’t supposed to find them. For what it’s worth, you would have been a great friend.”

He moved, but I moved faster. Sending a blast of power knocking the male on his ass. My shadows binding him.

“You talk too much.” I spat.

Turning back to Hem and Eris she held him in front of her. “Don’t make me kill him.” She spoke. Now using him as a shield. With his front exposed, I could see the shackles around his wrists. “This could go much more easily if you let me leave here with him. Why do you want a cheating male? You deserve better than that.”

I needed time to assess. My shadows busy with Apollo. Fuck. This was bad.

I laughed. “I hardly call you forcing yourself upon him ‘cheating’, in fact most would call that ‘assault’. And I have no patience for those who force themselves upon others.”

Just then a flurry of shadows shot into the room, ripping Hem’s wrist and dagger from Eris’ throat. My father winnowed into the room. No, this wasn’t my father. This was the feared Shadowsinger, the infamous Spymaster of the Night Court. His tone promised death as he commanded Hem to step away from Eris. She fought his demand, shaking with fear as she remained in place. “Please, you don’t understand. My father is wrongfully imprisoned in HIS court.”

“And this is how you feel it best to approach?” Father stepped closer, a thick, violent air emanating from him. “I will ask you one final time to step away from the High Lord.”

Hemera knew she was no match as she dropped the knife stepping back away from Eris.

Eris ran to me, in an attempt to shield me from any fallout but there was no more danger as father’s shadows apprehended the female.

Rhys and Feyre raced into the room, Nesta and Cassian on their tail.

Rhys whispered to Feyre. “Let Elain know it’s handled.”

Feyre’s gaze went distant as she communicated to my mother.

Rhys commanded Apollo to remove the sedation spell from Adish as Cassian jerked the apprehended male off the ground.

Nesta’s eyes flared with silver as she stared down Hemera before apprehending her as well. My mother and sister rushed in as we followed Rhys down to the gallery basement toward an empty office where the two would be held until Helion arrived. Since they were denizens of his court, it was only right to determine the next steps with him.

As the group strode toward the office, Azalea began tugging at my sleeve. “Sissy.”

“Not now, Azzie.”

She gasped, her little legs trying to keep up. “Sissy, please.”

“Just a minute, Azzie”

I felt guilty for ignoring her but my mind was coming out of the adrenaline state it had been in and my heart racing with rage and shock as I processed the revelation that Eris was my mate. That he knew and didn’t tell me.

Ironic considering that I always found Aunt Feyre and Aunt Nesta to be overly dramatic for their reactions to finding out about their own mates.

They were good, loving males who had enough money to live in lavish comfort for all of their days, and were highly regarded among the people of Velaris. How terrible.

Yet here I was. Fuming. Humiliated. That this male, a gorgeous High Lord and a damn good one at that, with a far softer heart than he’d ever let the world see, courted me because I was his mate.

I thought he wanted me for me.

“Sissy-“ Azalea drew me from my thoughts once again. “What?” I finally asked, raising my voice. But it was too late as the door to the empty office was opened, only to unveil a half naked Nyx, trousers unlaced, his body pinning a no longer shifted Layla with the bottom of her dress hiked up, and breasts fully exposed.

Nyx gaped. Eyes wide and frantic. I sent my shadows out to shield them, my father’s following suit, my hand instantly covering Azalea’s eyes.

Layla only pulled her dress up over her tits as she let out a laugh. “Whoops, we thought this room was unused.”

“I tried to tell you.” Azalea’s little voice whispered.

Darkness erupted through the room as Rhys clenched his fists. “What the fuck?” He growled out to Nyx.

My father only grinned, not caring who saw the smug satisfaction on his face. Fully conveying the look of that’s how it feels, you pompous asshole. Get it now? How’s it feel to be humiliated in front of an audience by the unconventional partner your child has chosen to fuck.

Feyre only covered her mouth, stifling a giggle at the situation. Nesta and mother quietly giggling with her.

I used the distraction to remove the enchanted shackles that were still stifling Eris’ power and apparently his ability to speak.

Fury blazed within me, my restraint failing as I spat out my next words much louder than intended.

“How long, Eris?”

Guilt flooded his features, his head hanging low.

“How. Long? How long have you known that I’m your mate?”

My father choked. The shit-eating grin instantly fading from his face, jaw and fists clenching.

A pitiful sound escaped Eris. “Since the first night… in the alley.”

“Wow.” was all I could manage as the walls began closing in around me.

I stepped away but Eris grabbed my wrist. “Please, Y/N. Just hear me out.” his broken voice pleaded. I couldn’t think. I needed space. Needed to breathe.

“Mom.” I looked to my mother. “Can we go home?”

She gave an empathetic look to Eris. “Come on, Azalea.” She reached out a hand. “Sissy needs us.”

Azalea looked to Eris, letting out a “hmph” as she scrunched her nose and crossed her arms. “That was bad.” She scolded, little wings ruffling with each word.

His face crumpled further as his little friend glared at him with disdain, words failing as she stuck her tongue out and winnowed away with mother.

“I love you.” was the last thing I heard as I spirited away.

———————————————-

A/N: I have had so much fun writing this series! Part 9 will be the final chapter but I may eventually give our main character a name and add a few spin off chapters as well. If that would be of interested to you, let me know!

Tags:

ACOTAR list: @lilah-asteria

Eris list: @angiedsv

Series list: @b0xerdancer-writes @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe

[malikselfindulgence]

TRAFFIC LIGHT TRIO X READER STUDY DATE HEADCANONS [seperate + all together!]

Content: reader is gender neutral, could be interpreted as either romantic or platonic

Headcanons under the cut!

RED SON:

☆ tries his best to keep you actually focused on the task at hand- doesn't let you goof off, but will allow consistent breaks

☆ but alas, once you've asked him a single question he'll derail the conversation twenty times over until he's completely off-topic and explaining something not even in your curriculum

☆ not that you mind- it's nice seeing him get passionate over topics he's into

☆ he tends to get absorbed into whatever he's working on, so study dates are a good way to get him to eat and drink water regularly alongside you

☆ I headcanon him as autistic, so parallel play is one of his favorite things! Enjoys being in your company while you each do your own seperate thing

☆ gets very easily frustrated if you're studying something not in his field of expertise [think molecular biology, literature, world geography] and you ask for his help only for him to not understand the question

☆ now it's your turn to try and keep him focused instead of going on a long-winded rant about how he's very smart and knowledgeable and this book is actually stupid and also he's-

MEI:

☆ you get a surprising amount of work done when you're with her!

☆ Mei's pretty good at balancing work and fun- she knows when to leave you be so you can focus on your studies, and when to strike up a conversation so you don't get too bored or stressed out

☆ she has a study date playlist specifically for the both of you that she updates frequently- she tries to keep her rock/metal songs out of it so it doesn't startle you and break your attention

☆ she's very horrible at explaining things- you ask her to help you with a question and although she understands the concept, she uses such convoluted metaphors and analogies that leave you more confused than before

☆ she likes holding your hand or sitting in your lap while you both work- just touching you in some way

☆ comes up with funny abbreviations for things you have to memorise

☆ gives you little pecks/kisses every once in a while, and near the end of your date when you're both burnt out, she'll give you a sleepy cuddle session while flipping through your flash cards

MK:

☆ oh boy

☆ where do I even start

☆ half of it is spent trying to wrangle MK into his desk, and the other half is spent trying to get him to open his books

☆ has a surprising amount of niche hyper-specific knowledge about various subjects, but if you ask him about the basics his mind'll blank

☆ tries his best to make the environment as comfortable for you as possible- utensils all set, cushions for your back, snacks and drinks on the table, reminders to stretch so your back doesn't hurt

☆ playing loud music tends to help him settle down and get some work done- you have to be holding his hand so he doesn't fidget around, though

☆ doodles on your notebooks/sticky-notes, usually small sketches of you or of himself giving you a thumbs up, flowers, hearts, little messages about how you're doing super well and you're super smart. It's really endearing and helps keep your morale up

☆ his attention span is very very low [I headcanon him as having ADHD], so he has to take multiple breaks in between. If you're still working while his mind is un-focused he'll braid your hair to keep his hands busy

RED SON + MEI + MK:

☆ yeah, you're not getting anything done today

☆ Mei and Mk together are a force to be reckoned with- and Red Son only adds fuel to the fire

☆ Mei and Mk'll make stupid jokes, Red Son'll tell them to shut up so he can focus, they'll make fun of him, he'll reply with a defensive and louder insult, and the cycle repeats

☆ if you ask a question, everyone'll be fighting to try and take a look at your book and help

☆ cue ensuing argument that lasts well into 20 minutes because all of them have a different answer

☆ upon googling it, you tell them that they're all wrong, actually

☆ even though you end up not doing anything, it's still a lot of fun- they're moreso just normal hangouts with the false advertisement of being productive

☆ the only time you get any work done with them is if it's the night before finals and you have to cram- the stress radiating off of you keeps their mouths shut

[Reminder that requests are open!]

[starless-nightz]

Hi idk if you do platonic headcanons but if yes could I request overprotective Artemis with an adopted daughter/figure reader? :)

Platonic! Overprotective! Artemis with adopted! daughter! reader

note -> Artemis is one of my favorite gods i love her so much <33

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, overprotective! Artemis, teasing from the hunters.

Artemis found you, lost in the woods as a child, alone and afraid, yet with a fire in your eyes reminiscent of herself. She didn't mean to get attached, but you clung to her that night, and she just couldn't leave you behind.

Artemis is extremely overprotective. The moment you came into her life, she swore to herself that nothing bad would ever happen to you. She doesn’t let you more than a few feet away from her side and when the Hunters are travelling through hostile territory it's even worse. The few times she does let you go off and do some exploring a few of her Hunters are always in sight, watching over you.

When it comes to threats near you, Artemis shows no mercy. She has faced her fair share of monsters, but since you've been around, she's a little more ruthless than usual. If some poor creature looks too close in your direction, she will confront it. You have seen her ove her bow at the snapping of a twig too near for comfort.

She cannot show affection, but it will manifest in the little things. She will sit with you by the campfire at night, pointing out the constellations. She will hunt you a rabbit when you are down, cooking it personally because she knows that is how you like it best. And though she's not one for physical comfort, she'll drape her cloak over your shoulders when the nights grow cold, pretending it's just because you look "chilly."

As you grow older, you two fight more. The fights are not frequent, but they are intense. You are independent, and Artemis respects that, but she cannot help the strong urge to keep you safe. You fight when you want to do something dangerous—perhaps accompany the Hunters on some more dangerous quest—and her silver eyes flash, her voice assumes that adamant tone. "You don't understand, you're not like the rest of us." It's only later, when the fire's faded from her eyes, that she'll come and sit beside you, awkwardly trying to explain that she just doesn't want to lose you.

Artemis is terrible at apologies, but she makes up for it in her own way. After fights, you'll wake up to find some rare flower placed carefully beside your bedroll, or a gift of a small, silver charm for your bow. She'll never admit to having spent hours looking for the flower, but you know.

You are the only mortal with whom she has ever fully lowered her guard. On quiet nights, she will speak to you of her long years, of the weight of immortality and what she has lost to time. It is a privilege she has never extended to any of her Hunters, excluding Zoe, but she can trust you with these moments of weakness.

She's fiercely proud of your skills—you're a really good archer now, thanks to her training. But every time she sees you draw back your bowstring, there's a shadow in her expression. A silent reminder that no matter how strong you get, she'll always see you as the little girl she found in the woods.

The Hunters have grown to regard you as a younger sibling, too, but none are quite as overprotective as Artemis. They tease you that you've turned their goddess into a worrywart, but behind the words is an edge of keen sincerity. They truly know just how much you've come to mean to her.

Artemis won't let any other gods near you, not even Apollo, who is especially curious about her "little mortal." The rest of the Olympians are just so unpredictable, and only the thought of you getting embroiled in their games can send Artemis's blood up in a storm. Once, on the rare occasion that Apollo did get to meet you, Artemis hovered, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, ready to intervene at the first hint of trouble.

She trusts you, though sometimes, with all of her over-protectiveness, it may not always show; she has seen the strength in you, in the resilience that keeps you moving forward when things get hard. But even as she wants to hold you close and protect you from everything, it seems, she knows in the end she is going to have to let you forge your path.

But until then, she will hold you close to her, protectively guarding you as the moon would guard the night sky, prepared to face all dangers that may come your way. To her, you were that one speck of warmth which she never had imagined coming her way, a light in her endless, lonely nights. And she will do all it takes to keep that light safe.

[bokettochild]

Sorry this is like 600 words instead of 500, but this is one of my favorite interpretations of Twilight's backstory ever, and I would love to hear more (given I've understood the prompt right, which I hope that I have). This is from Rope Burns.  “I grew up on a military base,” Twilight snorts, “trust me, soldiers are as dumb as rocks.” 

  And well, Legend having a family isn’t that crazy in comparison to that. 

  Warriors starts, staring at the rancher, blinking slowly as though still trying to process the words of the other. “I’m sorry- you what?” 

  “I thought you grew up in Ordon?” Wild questions, turning to his mentor, confusion on clear display. 

  Yeah, Wind has a feeling that Wild’s story is well and truly over now, but he supposes it’s worth it. Learning something about their rancher is, he supposes, better than hearing the rest of the story the cook had already spoiled the ending too, especially as the limit of their knowledge about the rancher at this point is that he’s from Ordon, used to work as a ranch hand, and is descended from Time and Malon somehow. The fact that he’s a hero goes without saying, but the ranch hand nearly never shares anything about himself, even though he seems to love talking about his hometown and all the people in it, to the point where some of them feel they know the village and its residents already, despite still not having been there yet. 

  Yet, the rancher is grinning as he leans back, the sprig of hylian rice between his teeth bouncing some as he flashes a wolfish grin at them. “Well, yeah, sort of.” 

  “Sort of?” Time nudges his pup, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Their leader isn’t keen on them being cryptic with him, even though he frequently does so himself. The hypocrite. “Explain.” 

  The rancher chuckles, a nervous little thing, but obediently pulls himself up, resting his weight over his knees as he looks around the fire at all of them, eyes glinting slightly. “Well, y’see, I a’tually grew up in a citadel on the edge of Hyrule.” 

  Warriors jaw drops so fast. “Holy Hylia you’re a military brat.” 

 He can’t help it; he bursts into laughter. Yes, objectively, it’s funny to see Warriors so shocked, but from an outsider's perspective it is so, so much funnier because he’s met Warriors parents and sisters, and he’s seen for himself the proof that the captain is anything but the sissy city boy Twilight likes to accuse him of being. No, the captain was born in Hebra, so far out from cities that he thought Kakariko was huge. Meanwhile, it turns out their “country boy” actually grew up in a military base? Not the country? It turns out Twilight is the military brat and Warriors was the hill-billy? How the turn tables have turned! 

  The rest of the heroes stare at him, confused, but the captain just rolls blue eyes, pinching the tip of his ear to make him shut up. “Ignore him.” 

  Twilight’s dark gaze flicks between them, but apparently, he determines to listen to the captain for once. “Right, so, my dad was a’tually a knight from some family o’ knights or summat, an’ my mom comes from desert folk, so I grew up on the border studyin’ with other knights’ kids to take on our fathers’ duties ’n protect Hyrule one day.” 

 The stares are very, very evident by now, although Legend’s in particular is strangely intense, studying the other with his mouth half open like he’s got a question about the rancher’s words.  

 Broad shoulders shrug, a bit awkward as the rancher grins at them. “My friends growin’ up were dumber’n rocks, an’ every knight I’ve met since is the same, so yeah. Knights ‘re stupid.”

Ooh, this one will be fun!

So, I actually was taught, coming into the LU fandom, that Twilight was basically raised in Ordon, with some people saying he came as a small child, mayb Rusl found him as a baby, all aloe and needing care, or maybe he was brought there by the hero's shade when he was still small, but nearly every source I looked to in the fandom said Twilight was young when he, the only Hylian in the village, cae to Ordon.

But then I read the Twilight Princess Manga! Chapter 6 of the manga, aptly titled "Link's Past" shows us him as a young boy, about nine or ten, living, as Twi says in your selection, in a citadel on the hylian border. Twilight's explanation (telling his story to Rusl) in manga goes thus:

"As it bordered the desert, my old home town was responsible for frontier security. It was ruled by the Rufflio, a family of noble ancestry. Upon becoming adults, we were to protect the frontiers of Hyrule. The young boys, holding onto the pride of that duty, spent their days training in the ways of the sword." (Twilight Princess, Volume One, Chapter 6, by Akira Himekawa)

In the past, I've never had an opportunity to address that. if you follow my works, then you know I draw heavily on the manga in regards to Legend's history and past, but I write Twilight much less than legend (understatement of the year). That said, their manga's definitely give me a better take on their characters, whereas Four Swords and Minish Cap were more fun than informative, and Ocarina of Time just made me think Time was a pain in the ass and a freaking weird kid (I have not finished the manga yet for that reason, despite owning it).

I wasn't really planning on talking about Twilight's past here at all, but it sort of sprung upon me in an inspired fit and I decided, what the heck? Why not!

The references to his mother being of the "desert folk" is in reference to how some people like to headcannon that twilight is part Gerudo, which I thoroughly enjoy and support! So, for fun, his mom is Gerudo.

His dad though? Well, you see, that comes up in the manga too! Not his dad specifically, but actually, Ashei's! The TP manga actually has Ashei tell Twilight that she is one of the last descendants of the Knights of Hylia (also known as the Knights of Hyrule, depending on the translation/game version), and that Snowpeak fortress is actually their ancestral home!

Now, you may be saying "Ketto, I've heard of the Knights of Hylia before, or at least, I think I have?" and if you've been around my blog/fics enough, you sure as sugar have! the Knights of Hylia are, famously, the group of knights who worked beside the sages mentioned in A Link to the Past to seal Ganon away! More importantly though, they're the descendants and carriers of the legacy of the Hero of Time!

So, if Twilight is cannonically Time's descendant, that would mean that one of his parents was likely from the families that made of the Knights of Hylia! Mystery solved!

Additionally, this would make him and Ashei very distant cousins. And for extra kicks, since Legend is also, famously, descended from the same line of knights (albeit in another timeline) he would also be their cousin! I've been tempted to address that for forever, especially with the Snowpeak detail, because honestly, I get a kind of Kaer Morhen vibe from it and SO want to play with that, but I digress!

Twilight's ancestry is part Gerudo, for fun, and descended from Time, which is fun I don't have to create because it's cannon! He grew up on the edges of Hyrule for the most part, and when he talks aout being picked on by the other kids in this fic, it's because they are sort of aggressie to him in the flashbacks he has in the manga. Granted they're a bunch of boys aged 10-13, so they're all a bit aggressive to each other, but I imagine, being probably the only part Gerudo among them, he did get picked on at least a bit, hence the premise of this fic :)

-

Bonus! Legend's staring is, in fact, because he really, really, really wants to ask twilight which Knight Family he hails from. He is making a connection and he's not sure what to think about it LOL

Warriors on the other hand, who I fervently headcanon as Celtic, is, like Wind, realizing that a reverse-uno has been played here. He, a peasant from the far north and abject poverty, is traveling with the descendant of a famed family of well respected knights who was likely living in a major trading town (thus likely rather well off) and yet somehow, he's the one who get's labeled the stuck up city kid, and Twilight is believed to be the home grown honest backwoods farmer fella. I actually posted a few things about that while writing this thing, and I may or may not visit that idea more fully in a fic one day, but yeah, that's what's going on for our vet and captain right here.

Thanks for choosing this one! I actually had a lot I wanted to share about it and hadn't been able to before! And the fact that this is a recent one I can actually remember working on definitely helps LOL

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, just wondering if you have any fics were Crowley and Aziraphale text frequently? AU's are fine 😊

Thank you!!

We have some texting fics here and you may enjoy fics on our #social media tag, which will include fics with online messaging. Here are more fics with texting...

Short Message Service by squiddz (E)

He got halfway down the page before the phone flashed with a notification again. Another message from Crowley. It took all of three seconds for Aziraphale to fold and pick up the phone. Crowley: so Crowley: what are you wearing Aziraphale: What kind of question is that? You know exactly what I'm wearing. --- In which Crowley gives Aziraphale a mobile phone, and then tries his level best to sext with him.

just friends (he's too important) by Narwhalhavingsomuchfun (T)

Biology student Anthony Crowley can't afford to fail his gen ed history class at Tadfield University. But luckily he's found a someone willing to tutor him in history. 3 guesses as to who that may be *** Crowley POV Strangers to friends to best friends to lovers texting fic

Play The Game by ffonippop (M)

Aziraphale was a university student on his last grueling year of pursuing a joint-honors Bachelors degree in Biology and Theology. His favorite day of the week was Sunday, because on Sunday, he could forget about the lab and leave behind the library to gather with his friends and play a competitive game of trivia— Quiz Bowl. He liked Quiz Bowl because it was a brain game, it was engaging, and it promoted teamwork. But most of all, he liked Quiz Bowl because he was the best at it. Until Crowley, the arrogant bastard with a swagger in his saunter, started showing up.

Dim the Lights and Sing You Songs by Polaris (E)

A few months prior to leaving the Dowling household, Crowley had downloaded Grindr for the sole purpose of catfishing randy morons. He was not expecting a paragraph that began with: ‘hello. I hope you don’t think this is too forward, but I couldn’t help but notice you have the most lovely nipples.’ Crowley keeps trying to meet his Grindr fuckbuddy. Aziraphale keeps showing up at all his meeting spots. This is terrible.

Readings From the Books of Ashtoreth by Quefish (E)

Vicar Aziraphale Bookman has a comfortable life. He lives in and serves the small village community of Tadfield. He enjoys contributing to local businesses, taking walks, and of course reading. His 'guilty pleasure', which gives him no guilt and all pleasure, is a series of novels by one AJ Ashtoreth. But what happens when he reaches out with an innocent bit of fanmail?

What We Make of It (Shotgun Wedding) by charlottemadison (E)

The important thing, Crowley tells himself -- the most important thing -- is Adam, his brilliant, creative, empathetic nephew. Being fourteen's hard enough; the kid didn't ask to deal with the weight of the world on top of it. And if taking care of Adam means Crowley has to tough it out at a job he can’t stand, so be it. And if Crowley's job means that Adam’s charming English teacher is NOT a romantic possibility, well, that's just how things go. But the occasional drink with Aziraphale proves hard to resist. They frequent the same pub, so who can object to them saying hello? Briefly sharing a table? Perhaps a little conversation? The painful knowledge that it can’t be anything more -- not without somebody getting fired or sued or both -- well, that can't be helped. Until Crowley stumbles onto a terribly reckless idea...

- Mod D

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Witte Solstice - Chapter 18

Cover art by @leespinoodle.

Fic written by me (enchantedchocolatebars) and @leespinoodle.

Summary: It's winter in the Boiling Isles, and Caleb prepares to celebrate the solstice with his wife, his friends… and hopefully, with Beardo Philip! Philip swears he'll never partake in the satanic holidays of those demonic witches. But when Caleb invites him over for the solstice… maybe he’ll find himself making an exception.

Ao3 version

It was a quick trek back to Philip's cave, and Caleb immediately got to work examining the entrance.

"You see, the problem here is that the entrance is north-facing, and thus, it receives very little sunlight. You really ought to have picked a place with a south-facing entrance so that the sun would melt the ice for you."

Caleb gave the block of ice a gentle tap.

"Luckily, I think I have something that can help."

Caleb produced a flask from under his cloak. An aroma like hot peppers escaped as it was uncorked. "Fire oil! It treats frostbite and can stave off hypothermia in a pinch. If it can warm up a limb, why not melt ice?"

"Fire oil?" Philip inquired. The brunette was unfamiliar with this type of magic oil. Sure, he's heard of fire glyphs, as he's been a frequent user of them, but never fire oil.

Blue eyes flashed with genuine fascination as Philip commented, "Interesting," before asking, "Would you mind giving a demonstration on how it works, Caleb?"

The younger didn't have his journal with him, but he would make sure to take mental notes while viewing his brother.

"Alright." Caleb splashed a bit of the fire oil on the ice. It was a thin, slightly orange liquid that began to sizzle and pop immediately upon contact with the ice.

Caleb stepped back and watched as the oil began to burn a hole in the ice straight through to the other side. He grinned as he admired his handy work.

"Fascinating! I have never tried that before. To be honest, I wasn't even sure it would do anything. I ought to jot that down in my potions book when I return home."

Philip had seen his brother do many impressive things back in their younger years, but such things paled in comparison to witnessing him splash some of the fire oil that he had on the ice.

The brunette backed away as well, watching the oil do its magic on the ice.

Philip's gaze shifted from the hole in the ice to Caleb.

"That was…"

Philip mentally searched for a more ingenious term to describe what he had just witnessed, but all he could utter out in a whisper was, "...Amazing."

Even as an adult, Philip still admired certain things his brother did, even if he kept the compliments to himself.

Once the youthful twinkles in his eyes faded, Philip cleared his throat and tried to appear more mature rather than like a starry-eyed child.

"You wouldn't happen to have more fire oil on you, would you, Caleb?" Philip asked.

Such a source would definitely be of use to him in the future.

"Unfortunately, that was all I had on me, but I can make more later." Caleb pocketed the flask.

"Very well then," Philip accepted composedly.

Just as he was about to turn on his heel and walk back into his cave, he gazed at his brother once more.

"Thank you again, Caleb. While I remain firm on my decision not to visit your home because of her, I want you to know that I truly do care for you, dear brother. When you eventually decide to depart from the witch, you're always welcome to come stay with me."

Philip was eagerly anticipating the arrival of that day.

He and Caleb would finally go back to normal.

Caleb's shoulders drooped, and his smile faded. "... Why must you be this way? Why can't you trust that I know what I'm doing? If you truly do care for me, why can't you accept that I'm happier here than I ever was in Gravesfield?"

Philip tightens his jaws, his hands forming fists of rage and pure fury.

He stomped his foot. "Because it's not true!" he roared, stomping a second time. "It's simply not true! There's no way in God's name that this horrible place makes you happier than home! This place is not meant for us! We don't belong here! Ugh!"

Turning away sharply from his brainwashed brother, the brunette stormed off into his cave.

[leighsartworks216]

For your prompt kisses list thingy request, do you think you could do either, 24, 32, or 43 (whatever you feel is best) for a reader/tav who suffers from chronic pain? Some days o hurt so bad I sob because I hate my body so much I want to perish. 😭 could Astarion please comfort said reader? Please and thank you I love your work and frequently re-read it! 👀 I re-read your migraine one today as I was dying from my own.

43 - "We'll get through this" kisses

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I already wrote something similar to this (To Ease Your Burden), but I did my best to do something a little different

Warnings: pain, crying

Word Count: 434

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Kiss Prompts

The sobs wracking through your body only made it hurt worse, but what else could you do? Halsin and Shadowheart had provided balms and pain relievers, to little effect. Astarion had set up his pile of pillows as best he could to ease the stress on your body, sitting dutifully nearby, doing his best to help.

“Shall I see if the wizard knows any remedies?” he offered gently. To willingly suggest talking to Gale of all people, let alone to ask for help, was a line only ever crossed for your sake. He hated sitting here, watching you suffer when he could do so little to help. If it was a creature or curse causing your issues, he’d happily charge out and slay it for you in a heartbeat, but it was much more than that.

You choked on your tears as you tried to shake your head. He hushed you gently when you winced, reaching out to brush back your hair, before he thought better of it and returned his hand to his lap. “Easy, love. You’ve got this.”

Struck with an idea, he bolted up from his spot on the floor of the tent and bustled about. You tried to see what he was doing, but he was out in a flash. He came back a little later with a large, thick quilt. As delicately as he could, he laid it over your body. It was pleasantly warm, as though it’d been hung by the fire for a while. It drew out some of the aching. You sighed with relief.

“There we are. Better?”

You croaked out, “Yes,” with an accompanying little sniffle. He smiled, but his brows were knit together. His cold body wouldn’t help now, nor could he even cuddle with you when the slightest jostle had you crying out in agony, but hand Karlach a blanket for a minute and you’d have a heated one in no time. It was the best he could provide for the pain.

“Do you think you can try sleeping it off for just a bit?”

“With this,” you don’t try to gesture to the blanket, “maybe.”

“Good! Take a nap and when you wake up, maybe Halsin will have come up with another ‘natural remedy’ to try.” He sat up on his knees and leaned over you, careful not to touch you or accidentally fall on you. He brushed his lips ever so lightly to your forehead, before immediately pulling back. He offered you a gentle smile. “You’ll get through this, love. And I’ll be right here if you need me. I promise.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats @dontneedbiologytoadopt

[exhausted-archivist]

Early Game First Impressions

I have some thoughts and critiques about it from at least an early point.

So far, being 28 hours in (and I just got my 4th companion so the time I've been in the game isn't really indicative of my plot progress) I have some general thoughts. None of them are spoilers, but to be safe, I will keep them below the cut.

Please note, these are my first impressions. I'm doing a mostly blind playthrough and I'm mostly sharing to start a dialogue but also document my feelings. Please be respectful of that and others who may comment. Also my comments on armor/clothing is going to be a whole seperate kit and kaboodle.

My main focuses based on priority to me:

Combat

Flashing accessibility issues

The Bloom effect

Character creator

Photomode

Writing (General)

Dialogue and Banter

Maps and Quest Guidance

Food Lore

Combat, Accessibility, and Bloom Render

So far my biggest complaint is related to the combat. In terms of general enjoyment, this is one of the most enjoyable combat systems in the series for me. The flow is nice, I like the UI, overall a solid 7/10 for me. Except for one thing: I hate button mashing, I cannot handle it for too long, it is a large part of the reason I've never played through dao again. I found that da2 and dai really found a nice middle ground with it. But with datv, the issues are that if I press and hold, it will charge attacks and not continuously fire them off like in the previous two games.

I also don't like how frequently my companions bark at me in combat. Lucanis yelling "Move Rook!" while I'm stuck in a corner or something has thrown off my timing and is also just kinda annoying at times. Something I also don't like when I'm trying to explore but more on that later.

Additionally, I find the rebinding of keys is way too restrictive. It is hard to find a calibration that works, it doesn't solve the button mashing, and it isn't any better for mouse and keyboard. The fact that (at least last time I tried) I couldn't rebind the keys from ASWD to the arrow keys is a huge miss to me. So, while I find combat engaging and fun with a nice flow, button mashing and the key rebinding for combat are a big con. Particularly from an accessibility standpoint.

Speaking of accessibility, while the accessibility for the game is robust (but for some features an okay attempt for a first attempt) not being able to adjust the flashing rendering is the second biggest. That is a major accessibility thing and one of the bare minimum features I've come to expect in most games. Now while at present it hasn't been too bad for me since the prologue, I do not know if it will be an issue again later on. The flashing paired with the way the bloom renders, makes the game very migraine triggering if I'm not careful.

So on the note of the bloom, it is another big con for me because it messes with my eyes. While I can remove it in photomode and see what it looks like without it, I think it could have done with less bloom and still looked good. I do like how it has an almost Dishonored texture rendering to the people. I am curious if they pushed it a little harder if it would be more interesting visually and make the bloom more effective. Not only that, but I see the vision, I appreciate it, but not really friendly to me. Which is okay, to be clear. This is one of those things where the vision is great, the execution might not be universally loved, but it is good. Sort of like Arcane (though not to that level), I will never be able to watch it because of the flashing. But I know it is still an amazing show.

Character Creator

Now, in terms of the character creator I think they could have pushed things more. I'm over all very impressed and I love what they did, the variety and extremes you can push are amazing. From a technical standpoint it is gorgeous, and I overall rate it 8/10.

On a minor point, I do wish we could adjust eye size/shape independently of the head morph as well as change the mouth shape. I also wish there were more extreme limits to the body morph. While there is an okay range for what we have, I do wish I could make a heavier set character than I have, whether they're more muscular defined (think Bull and his almost barrel chested build) or someone who is just heavy. But I also wish I could make someone who looked like Isabela in da2 proportionately. I do get some of the criticism that cropped up, though I think the way most of it was presented/worded was exaggerated because the bust and glute sizes weren't "hollywood" style.

But my biggest issue with the cc is there is not any true dark skin tones. They do not go dark enough, they get close, but I couldn't make anyone who looks like several of my family members or oc skin tones I have. This is a major con for me, because they were heading in the right direction and then fell disappointingly short. I think it likely has to do with lighting, to which I seriously think they need to work on learning to how to light darker skins. I think they also need to learn how to make and layer darker skins. They have the basics down, now they need to push it further.

I also have to speak towards the fact that it seems with the bloom rendering and this art style, they did not push things hard enough to allow us to play older characters in appearance. And because all non-important npcs are made with the same cc as rook, we are pushed to having a very small visual age range for the game. Wrinkles do not appear well or strong, and it is disappointing to say the least. It has always been a weak point in Dragon Age.

Connected to these two points, but on a much more minor note, I think having complexion cover skin texture, freckles, dark circles, birthmarks, and acne was too much. They should have had 2-3 selectors for that - and this might be a rendering, technology issue. But not being able to be freckled and wrinkled or have dark circles, falls short, and it especially impacts being able to create an older Inquisitor. This also touches on the imbalance of which they aged femme presenting characters vs masc presenting characters, but that is another post.

Moving onto the last point I have thoughts on, is the hair. While they definitely improved in the hair options, they still lean heavily one way or the other. Especially with the offset of non-qunari getting 88 hairstyles and qunari getting 33. While we no longer have 50 shades of bald, and they heard our thoughts on hair and horns being connected for qunari, the large gap between the two categories is unfair. Especially given the fewer textured options for qunari and the even fewer length variations. It also looks like some were removed from what we saw during marketing. I've also seen the call for bangs, while they aren't something I usually desire I do agree the few bang choices are a notable.

Photomode

I'm going to be blunt with this one as it is the most cosmetic of them all, I feel like there could have been more options. I love we got it, but it's pretty bare bones comparatively with others we get.

I think looking at Horizon (Zero Dawn and Forbidden West) would be a good reference for a strong photomode. CP77 if they went further. Being able to add different effects/filters or even remove some depending on where you're photomoding would go miles. Being able to remove dead enemies (that you didn't kill) would also be nice. But I think the biggest thing is the limited range that the camera can be from Rook. It likely has to do with rendering range, but I think they could have pushed it more. That's all. I've been living in photomode though, using it near constantly to be honest. Just a qol thing.

The Writing: General, Dialogue, and Banter

Off the bat, I find the writing of this game to be the most Dragon Age between Inquisition and The Veilguard. The series has always been campy and quipy. It is the same semi-serious stuff I've expected from BioWare. I do think they have improved in some areas, stayed the same in others, and got weaker in some.

One of the things I think BioWare, especially the da team, has always struggled with is hitting the sweet spot that doesn't isolate new players but also doesn't aggravate lore nerds or long time players. DA2 I think is probably the best of the series at that. But with datv, I find points of aggravation with the wording, just like I did with Inquisition when I went to replay it after having started the series from The Stolen Throne and playing all the way through to Inquisition again. I cannot decide if they have gotten better or what, however I do think the glossary is an excellent addition. Even if I argue with some of them haha.

A clear point of improvement for me so far is the line summaries. I find they are better than dai, though there are some misses.

In terms of banter, I think I'm starting to see what people have been talking about in terms of its substance. However, I don't think it is unique to datv. Rarely has banter effected anything outside that moment, especially for da2-dai. I've only played dao once so I don't know if they tied banter into main story more or not. For me, banter not having substantial effect outside the moment isn't surprising, and I don't know if that is something I was hoping would change or not. This one I think might change as I play.

I also get what people are saying about the banter erring on the side of toothless, but I only see that in like comparison to da2 where companions were brutal with each other. I would say it is the same level/as close to dai. But I'm still early and don't have all the companions. So another thing that might change when I play further.

Maps and Quest Guidance

They did a really good at fixing the dai overcorrection of maps from da2. They're compact, relatively easy to navigate, and so far a distinct lack of bears!

Though while they pulled back on one overcorrection I feel in turn that they overcorrected on the guidance/party direction banter in response to the loud feedback of dai not having enough guidance. This touches back on the companions yelling at me while I'm exploring, or the persistent markers and pop ups. While turning off some of the UI/setting elements greatly helped, and I have heard that it gets less demanding further in, it is a con for me.

Delving into maps though, as someone who is fixated on maps I have thoughts and feelings over the area maps as well as the map texutures the display as setting design. So far, I'm dissappointedwith the set design ones. I haven't seen any new ones, they reuse the map released with the Tevinter Nights and then the first Thedas map they've used since dao. Now those aren't inherently negative, but I like maps and I was hoping for more, especially at the beginning.

Food Lore

Okay, I know this is last and I said I listed these in like priority, but this one was a HUGE point for me and I wanted to end on a positive note. The food lore so far is rich, it is clearly done with some thought, there are more varieties, and I am thrilled with what I've seen. It is rich, indepth, they've added a lot more than I thought they would. So far, the location I've found to have the most rich lore is Treviso. With a nutrition specialist and Julia, the fruit merchant who's husband is allergic to alubia carilla (black eyed peas). It is something so small comparitively that makes the world so rich. I've been compiling and collecting, and I have been flooded with people sending me screencaps and dialogue snippets (without spoiling anything) and I am so overjoyed and appreciative.

[masteroffearshusband49020]

Anon request: Taking care of post AK Jon headcanons:

- So, he can't really form sentences anymore and the words he says don't always match up with what he means. He also very much can feel fear again. I hc that he does slowly recover his ability to communicate over time, but not completely. Sometimes he'll go non verbal, sometimes for hours, sometimes days, sometimes he'll forget words, also lots of dissociating. He also definitely has PTSD now if he didn't already.

- You need to provide him with cue cards so he can communicate better. He gets ashamed of his lost ability to communicate, so you often have to reassure him and be there for him.

- His most common reaction to being unable to communicate is anger. Sometimes, cuddles help, other times, he needs to simmer down by himself. Pay attention to how he reacts when you open your arms to him. If he walks into your arms, he needs cuddles, if he shakes his head or walks away, leave him alone for a bit.

- His nightmares are far more frequent now. He also has night terrors and will wake both of you up screaming at odd hours of the night, sometimes followed by crying. He still tries not to cry in front of you, but he can't always help it, especially post AK.

- He feels bad that you need to take so much care of him. He feels like a burden and risks having more depressive episodes because of it. You need to reassure him it's all in his head and that you love him and love caring for him. If he's not depressed, he's anxious and doing you lots of favors to make up for him needing you so much. Sometimes it's more genuine, other times it's more out of guilt.

- The best way to calm his frequent anxiety down, is to cuddle him and read to him until he falls asleep or is able to breathe normally again. Ironically, definitions of phobias and info on fear are the most calming to him. It's because he can make sense of how he feels again.

- In order to get him to stop dissociating, you need to get him into a dimly lit, quiet place that isn't overstimulating.

- Cuddling him becomes a lot easier post AK. He's more willing to do it because he needs it more and for the time being, his priority is restoring himself, not being the most frightening one in the room. One thing at a time, you know? He knows what he needs to prioritize and begrudgingly does it. He's definitely not happy about it, but he knows he had to and goes through with it.

- He is terrified of bats, large fires, flashing orange lights, batman-like silhouettes, crocodiles and loud noises, especially men yelling. Please keep all of these things away from him.

- He is most terrified of losing you because you're the only one taking care of him and keeping him together anymore. He develops separation anxiety. You frequently have to reassure him you'll be right back.

- As time goes on, he heals and recovers as much of his former self as he can, he confides in you that he is eternally grateful for you. You see a softer side of him than ever before and softer than anyone else has ever seen before. You are officially the one person he has empathy for in the entire world.