#could have various details about them that were different

[void-floyd-art]

For Lenan Thorne

What plant would Harding gift Rook? Harding would gift him a flowerbox full of poppies and cornflowers as a reminder of home! When they were hunting Solas, he told her about how he missed the flowers that would grow by his family's fields.

Do they like Harding's cooking? Lenan might be just as much of a disaster in the kitchen as Harding (The boy can prep his kills, but that's it!), but that doesn't mean that his taste buds have ceased to function. He would never tell her though, because he loves her too much.

What animal/monster would Davrin carve for your Rook? Davrin would carve him either a little nightingale (Lenan simply cannot stop singing or playing his ocarina!) or a halla (he is actually a surprisingly gentle soul, despite his hot temper).

Does your Rook like the walks in Arlathan with Davrin? Absolutely! The first time he saw an actual halla up close he almost started crying. "I never got to herd my clan's halla..." was Lenan's only answer when Davrin asked him about it later.

What is something Neve could call on your Rook for if she needs certain expertise for a case? Aside from Grey Warden stuff, he's really knowledgeable about plants, and flowers in particular. When they're out and about, he will point to different bits of flora and tell the companions wether those are poisonous and uses for them.

Does your Rook share Neve's love of fried fish? He has no problem hunting and prepping his own food, but for some reason can't bring himself to eat fish if it's still got fins and/or the head. It just kind of grosses him out.

Does your Rook join Bellara in her technical talks about the Fade and various artifacts or are they more content to listen? Lenan loves learning new things, especially about magic as he's only semi-recently finished his formal education in magic. So while he isn't all that active in those talks, he loves to listen to her deep dives and very technical explanations.

Do your Rook and Bellara read serials together? Sometimes. He tries to follow along as closely as he can, but he tends to get the details mixed up and crime stories aren't really his cup of tea to begin with, so he would rather just let Bellara rant at him instead of reading the serials himself.

What is your Rook's favorite dish that Lucanis cooks? He likes most, if not all, of Lucanis's cooking, but is particularly fond of spaghetti carbonara. No real reason there, he just really likes it.

What would Lucanis buy for your Rook at the Grande Market? Lucanis tries to encourage Lenan's hobbies, partially to get him to unwind every once in a while and partially because he likes Lenan's music, so he gets their leader a delicately carved and painted lute. Lenanloves it and uses every opportunity to practice playing it.

What dragon would Taash think your Rook would like the best? Taash thinks the Vinsomer might be a favourite of Lenan's because it shoots lightning and he's very fond of lightning spells himself, but really it's because that was the first dragon he ever saw up close.

Do they bring your Rook 'round the Hall of Valor to drink often? They would bring him along to the Lords more often, but he's doesn't really like alcohol and rowdy crowds. He still comes along on occasion and listens to their stories, but his mug only ever has juice in it and he leaves before the evening to avoid all of the Lords of Fortune looking to get drunk.

Would your Rook like Emmrich's mother's hazelnut torte? Lenan really likes sweet treats, never having had much opportunity to get any (apart from apples and mirabelle plums) growing up, so he absolutely loves the hazelnut torte!

What kind of tea would Emmrich make for your Rook? Emmrich's and Lenan's taste in tea differ and Lenan enjoys hot chocolate more, but he does still like some tea blends. (The sweet ones, obviously.) So Emmerich likes to brew him a tea he specifically keeps around for Lenan - a blend made from roses, apples and cinnamon. It's spicy and sweet and always seems to soothe Lenan.

Bonus: What is one thing a companion does to cheer up your Rook if they're feeling down? The companions Lenan is closest to are Harding, Lucanis, Davrin and Bellara, so while he's not on bad terms with the other three, they respect one another and come through for each other when it counts, these four are usually the ones to try and cheer him up.

Harding has known him the longest and understands that sometimes Lenan just needs to exist with someone else - no words, just being together and preferably in nature. She'll take him on a day trip or they'll sit down in the the conservatory together and silently relax in each other's company.

Whenever Lucanis finds Lenan brooding when he should be using his downtime to relax, he takes the younger to Treviso and they do parkour challanges across the rooftops. Afterwards, when they're sufficiently exhausted, the two go to Café Pietra, order coffee and hot chocolate respectively and just people-watch for a while.

Davrin has noticed the same thing Harding has on their first walk through Arlathan and will take Lenan with him to check up on the halla or go for a walk with Assan. Sometimes they talk - about hunting, about stories from when they were growing up or stories from Grey Warden training - but mostly they just bask in nature together. These trips usually end with them in some clearing or another and Lenan cuddling Assan. (Davrin puts up a token protest that Lenan is spoiling Assan too much, but he never actually does anything about it.)

Bellara has found, that Lenan greatly enjoys just listening to her talk - wether it's about magical theory, the possible functions of an artifact or how she thinks a certain serial might end doesn't seem to matter. So whenever he seems to be quieter than usual or retreat into himself, she asks him for his opinion on her theories about certain plot developments (for which she will inevitably have to recount the entirety of that particular serials plot, just to be sure he understands the significance of certain things) or asks him to be her sounding board for her theories and ideas regarding the Lighthouse, the Fade or Ancient Elvhenan. Sometimes they will spend time like that for hours.

Small Rook & Companion Questions:

What type of plant would Harding gift your Rook?

Do they like Harding's cooking?

What animal/monster would Davrin carve for your Rook?

Does your Rook like the walks in Arlathan with Davrin?

What is something Neve could call on your Rook for if she needs certain expertise for a case?

Does your Rook share Neve's love of fried fish?

Does your Rook join Bellara in her technical talks about the Fade and various artifacts or are they more content to listen?

Do your Rook and Bellara read serials together?

What is your Rook's favorite dish that Lucanis cooks?

What would Lucanis buy for your Rook at the Grande Market?

What dragon would Taash think your Rook would like the best?

Do they bring your Rook 'round the Hall of Valor to drink often?

Would your Rook like Emmrich's mother's hazelnut torte?

What kind of tea would Emmrich make for your Rook?

Bonus: What is one thing a companion does to cheer up your Rook if they're feeling down?

[nanenna]

A Brief Look from a Different Angle

Going back in time just a little to have a look from a different PoV.

Sleepy King masterpost

---

Jazz flung open the door to the basement so forcefully it nearly bounced right back into her face. “Mom! Dad!”

“Jazz?” Mom asked curiously from below as Jazz descended the basement stairs. “Sweetie, come look! We think we got the new settings for the blasters set correctly.”

“Mom, where's Danny?” Jazz asked in a tight voice.

“Isn't he with you?” Mom asked warily, looking past Jazz to where she was flanked by Sam and Tucker.

“Did he wander off after school?” Dad suggested cheerfully.

“School's not over yet, we left early because Danny never made it to school this morning. Didn't they call you?” Jazz had thought it was weird the school office had called her at all, especially when she was at the very same school when they had.

Her parents frowned as they pulled their phones from their pockets. “No missed calls,” Mom said.

Dad turned to the computer, “Not the house line either. But there were a couple readings last night, perhaps Danny slept in?”

“I called him on the Fenton phone, you'll never guess who answered.” Jazz gave her parents a moment to turn their full attention back to her. “Superman.”

“Oh, well they're the good guys so he's safe at least, right?” Dad asked cheerfully.

“What did Superman say, honey?”

“He said Danny had been kidnapped and rescued, but has some sort of magical side effects the Justice League is working to fix before sending him home. He wouldn't tell me any more details, not who kidnapped him, not what the side effects are, not when he'll be home, nothing.”

“And they didn't inform you, his parents,” Sam added on.

“I'm worried they don't know about Danny’s ghost status and might accidentally hurt him trying to cure him of whatever,” Tucker added, still tapping away at his modified tablet.

“Well that's just unacceptable,” Mom said angrily.

“Right!” Dad agreed eagerly. “We're his parents and he's still a minor, we should be there to approve of his medical treatment!”

Jazz was already heading over to the corner to collect ol’ reliable: the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick™. “They said he's at one of the JL bases.”

Everyone turned to look at Tucker. “Their security is pretty tight, as to be expected, but as always there's social engineering. One of the JL members is complaining in a private discord server about still being on monitor duty on the Watchtower despite it currently being on lockdown for unspecified magical reasons.”

“The Watchtower?” Dad asked.

“Isn't that in space?” Sam sounded incredulous.

“Danny must be so excited,” Mom said with a fond sigh.

“How do we get to space?” Jazz asked forcefully.

Everyone looked around at each other for a moment. “The specter speeder is air tight,” Dad suggested.

“We can go through the ‘Zone,” Jazz added, already digging through the benign supply storage.

“Ask Frostbite for the infi-map?” Tucker suggested.

“Or we just use this!” Jazz triumphantly held up the booo-merang.

There was a resounding sound of approval from the group, followed by a flurry of activity as everyone set about getting ready to travel to space. Mom had taken over the pilot’s seat for the specter speeder, Dad was clearing away everything they had been working on to give the speeder a clear runway, Sam and Tucker were gathering up various ‘just in case’ supplies like a few weapons and the emergency ghost first aid kit, and all the while Jazz was double checking the booo-merang was properly calibrated and battery charged. Once everyone was in place and everything set up, Jazz threw the booo-merang at the open portal and hopped into the speeder so they could take off after it.

Once through, Dad activated the new remote to close the blast doors behind them. No chance of anyone sneaking through while they’re away. A new safety feature that had drastically reduced the number of ghost attacks. Danny had been delighted. Jazz had been upset it took so long for their parents to listen to her concerns when she’d brought up the portal’s security a year prior, shortly after finding out about Danny’s ghostliness.

Jazz mentally shook those thoughts away, no use retreading old ground. Instead she kept her eyes on the booo-merang as it flew through the Ghost Zone, lazily spinning along at a pace that was pretty easy for the speeder to keep up with.

“It sure is taking a while,” Tucker said with a bored sigh.

“We'll get there when we get there,” Sam replied with a grin.

They lapsed back into silence, everyone watching the booo-merang leading them further and further into the ‘Zone. Then it suddenly took a sharp left at the same time it doubled its speed. The boo-merang slipped through a portal that seemed to open and close just for it.

The speeder rocked as Maddie tried to follow the sudden course change, then cursed when they missed the portal.

“Welp,” Tucker said tiredly, “guess we head to the Far Frozen to ask for the infi-map.”

Sam snickered, “Bet you fifty it hit him in the head.”

“That's not a bet, that's a guarantee.”

“Hey!” Jazz protested.

Before Jazz could properly defend herself, a portal opened right in front of them. They ended up on the other side before anyone could do more than gasp.

“Is that… the Watchtower?” Mom asked hesitantly.

“I think so,” Tucker replied.

There, floating before them backed by a field of stars,was a matte gray tube with more tubes attached around it covered with windows leaking buttery yellow light into the void.

“Okay, so now what?”

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed what had just happened. Danny was inside and they were outside, they needed to find their way in and then somehow find Danny without their only tracking device. Great.

The radio came to life with a burst of static. “This is the Watchtower to the unknown vessel, please identify yourself.”

“Great, guess we can't sneak on,” Sam groused.

“Like that was ever even an option,” Tucker replied sarcastically.

“Kids!” Dad chided. Then he started fiddling with various knobs, “How do we reply?”

Mom frowned, “I'm not sure we can.”

“Something to upgrade for next time!”

“Hopefully there won't be a next time,” Jazz muttered.

“Still, it’s best to be prepared,” Dad said jovially. The radio spit more static and garbled requests for identification.

“Perhaps we should just… approach? They probably have an airlock or something we can use.” Mom gently nudged the speeder forward, heading slowly towards the Watchtower.

“Hopefully they don’t think we’re hostile,” Tucker grumbled.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got ghost shields!” Dad said enthusiastically with a finger hovering over a button.

“Dad, the Justice League doesn’t have any ghosts,” Jazz reminded him with a sigh. She shook her head, her parents were a little too specialized. Maybe this would help them realize they lost sight of the broader picture.

“Well hopefully it’ll stop whatever that is,” Tucker said nervously, pointing at where a small white dot was growing larger as it approached them.

The dot turned out to be a man wearing a white half cape, the red and gold coming into focus as he got closer. Clearly he was some kind of superhero, since he wasn’t even wearing a helmet or space suit. Jazz narrowed her eyes at him, “Is that Superman?”

“No,” Sam and Tucker said at the same time. Tucker took over, “That’s Captain Marvel, the champion of magic. Not related to Superman at all, aside from being coworkers I guess.”

“Good for him.” Jazz readjusted her grip on the anti-creep stick.

Captain Marvel slowed down as he got closer, stopping a few yards away. He smiled and waved, everyone waved back. Then he beckoned for them to follow.

“How nice, they sent someone to lead the way.” Mom maneuvered the speeder to follow, matching the easy pace Captain Marvel set.

“Hold on, Danny, we’re coming,” Jazz murmured, gripping the anti-creep stick tight.

[andy-15-07]

Javier Pena x CIA agent!f!reader

You and Javier in secret relationship that you two simply have great chemistry. You enter the meeting with bunch of military, DEI, CIA. Javier was siting with bunch in meeting as you simply listen and watch for General to speak. Then you glare one second at Javi, focus one what trying to do. After the meeting, Javi steps outside and smoke a cigarettes, you step in and talk to him. I know Javi is brave enough about taking down Cali. You got faith for him and if he needed help for you, he’ll called you. He kiss your knuckles that everything would be fine and love you dearly. Lots of hard work for you two would be brave.

(Hope you will write it, thanks and have a good day)

Secrets in the Smoke

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2353 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The conference room was dimly lit by fluorescent bulbs, their harsh light clashing with the somber mood that filled the space. You, Y/N, a seasoned CIA agent known for your steely resolve and discreet efficiency, had entered the meeting with your head held high. Today’s session was critical—a joint briefing with high-ranking military officials, representatives from DEI, and fellow CIA operatives. It was a meeting where every word could mean the difference between success and disaster.

Seated at a long polished table were men and women in crisp uniforms and tailored suits. Among them, your eyes found Javier “Javi” Pena, his presence unmistakable even from across the room. Though you both had to keep your relationship strictly off the record, the subtle chemistry between you was palpable—a private language of glances and half-smiles that spoke of shared secrets and unyielding support.

As the meeting began, you took your seat quietly at the far end of the table, your posture poised and alert. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation as the General prepared to address the assembled team. You allowed your eyes to drift around the room, taking in the determined expressions of your colleagues, until finally, the General cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the General began, his voice deep and commanding, “we are here today to discuss our coordinated efforts against the Cali cartel. Our intelligence indicates that their network is more deeply rooted than we previously believed, and every resource we have must be deployed to dismantle their operations.”

You listened intently, nodding slightly as he outlined the strategy. Every detail mattered—every contingency plan, every tactical adjustment. And through it all, your gaze kept finding Javi’s. He sat with a group of agents from various agencies, his expression stoic yet attentive. For a brief moment, as the General continued speaking, you caught a glimpse of determination in his eyes—a silent promise that he was as committed to taking down Cali as you were.

During a pause in the General’s briefing, you exchanged a fleeting, charged glance with Javi. For a single second, you allowed yourself a small, knowing glare—a reminder of the private bond you shared amid the public formality. You focused back on the presentation, but the warmth of that brief contact lingered, steadying your resolve.

The meeting carried on with intense dialogue. One agent from DEI interjected, “General, if we allocate additional assets to surveillance, we might pinpoint their key operational hubs faster.” Another CIA operative added, “We need to ensure our field agents are equipped with the latest intel. Communication channels must remain uncompromised at all costs.”

Throughout the debate, Javi leaned forward, his deep voice cutting through the technical jargon. “We know the Cali cartel isn’t just a network—it’s a living, breathing organization. Every move they make is calculated. We have to be even more precise. If we’re going in, we need to be in sync, like a well-oiled machine.” His words, delivered with his trademark mix of grit and conviction, resonated with everyone present.

You couldn’t help but smile at his passion. Despite the gravity of the situation, his confidence was a beacon of reassurance for you. Quietly, you made a mental note: if he ever needed extra support, he’d call you without hesitation—and you’d be there in a heartbeat.

Finally, after what felt like hours of planning and debate, the meeting began to wind down. The General wrapped up, “I trust that each one of you will execute your part with the utmost precision. We have one chance to dismantle this network—let’s not fail.” The room erupted in murmurs of assent and determined nods. As the participants filed out of the conference room, you could see the weight of responsibility in everyone’s eyes.

Once the room had emptied, you noticed Javi slipping quietly out the side door. With a practiced glance that masked your concern and affection, you followed him out into the cool night air.

Outside, the corridors were quiet. Javi stood under a flickering light near a set of stairs, a thin wisp of smoke curling from the cigarette he held between his fingers. His rugged face, usually set in a mask of stoic determination, now softened as he exhaled slowly. You approached him, your footsteps echoing softly in the near-empty hallway.

“Javi,” you said gently, stopping a few feet away, “you alright?”

He glanced over his shoulder, a small, tired smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Hey, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly. “Just needed a minute to clear my head. You know how these meetings get.”

You leaned against the wall next to him, keeping your tone casual but your eyes filled with concern. “I do. But you’re one of the bravest men I know. Taking down Cali isn’t easy—anyone would be feeling the pressure tonight.”

He took a slow drag on his cigarette, the embers flaring briefly. “I appreciate that,” he murmured. “I know the stakes, and sometimes it just gets… overwhelming. But knowing you’re out there, doing your part, it gives me strength.”

Your hand brushed lightly against his as you offered a quiet smile. “You’ve got to trust that we’re in this together, Javi. And if you ever need anything—backup, a shoulder, or just someone to listen—you know I’m just a call away.”

For a moment, the sound of distant city traffic and the soft hum of the building’s ventilation filled the silence between you. Then, with a tenderness that belied the harsh world you both inhabited, Javi stepped forward and gently lifted your hand to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss onto your knuckles, his eyes conveying a promise that everything would be alright.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone earnest and resolute, “I love you. I promise, no matter how hard it gets, I’ll always call on you if I need help. And you’ll always be the one who reminds me why I fight.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with both love and pride. “And I love you, Javi. I believe in you—completely. We’re stronger together than apart, remember?”

He nodded, flicking the cigarette away and stubbing it out with a practiced motion. “I do. And we’re going to bring Cali down, one step at a time. But tonight, let’s just… breathe.”

The two of you stood there, the cool night air mingling with the warmth of your shared moment. You could hear the distant murmur of voices and footsteps, the busy world continuing on even as you both savored this small haven of quiet intimacy.

“Remember,” Javi added with a playful glint in his eyes, “when you’re in that meeting next time, I expect you to give me that look again. The one that says, ‘We’ve got this.’”

You chuckled softly. “You mean the glare you love so much? Don’t worry—I’ll make sure you get your daily dose.”

He laughed, the sound rough and genuine. “Good. Because I’m counting on it.”

Your conversation drifted into a mix of mission details and personal banter, each line of dialogue weaving a tapestry of trust and unspoken promises. You recalled recent operations, shared insights about the enemy’s movements, and even traded a few light-hearted jabs about whose briefing notes were better. All the while, the underlying tone was one of mutual respect and unwavering support.

“Y/N,” Javi said after a pause, his voice softening as he looked at you with sincere admiration, “I know I can be stubborn sometimes, and I appreciate that you never let me down—even when I’m too proud to ask for help.”

You reached up and gently touched his arm, your eyes meeting his. “We’re a team, Javi. You take on the danger, and I take care of the details. It doesn’t matter who carries the burden on any given day, as long as we carry it together.”

He smiled at that, a hint of vulnerability shining through his normally guarded demeanor. “I wish I could tell everyone how proud I am to have you in my corner. But you know the rules.”

You nodded, understanding the delicate balance of your secret relationship. “Our secret is safe, Javi. I trust you with my life—and I know you trust me with yours.”

In the stillness of that moment, the weight of your responsibilities melted away, replaced by the simple truth of your connection. The night was far from over, and there would be more meetings, more battles, and more sacrifices ahead. But for now, you both allowed yourselves a brief respite—a pause to appreciate the love that fueled your courage.

After a few more minutes of quiet dialogue—exchanging theories, recounting memories of past missions, and speculating about the future—Javi broke the silence. “I have to get back inside. There’s more work to be done today.”

You hesitated, reluctant to let him go, but you knew duty always called. “Alright, but promise me you’ll stay safe. And if you ever need to talk—or need me—don’t hesitate.”

He leaned in, capturing your gaze with his intense, unwavering eyes. “I promise, Y/N. I love you, and that means more than any mission ever will.”

He pressed one last soft kiss to your knuckles before turning and heading back into the building, leaving you with a lingering warmth in your hand and in your heart.

As you watched him disappear into the corridor, you whispered softly to yourself, “We’ll get through this together, Javi. Always.”

Later that evening, after the meeting had been fully disbanded and the adrenaline of the day had settled into a calm determination, you returned to your secure apartment. The city outside was alive with the hum of nighttime activity, but inside, you prepared for the next phase of your mission. Your mind kept drifting back to Javi’s words and the promise in his eyes—a beacon of hope in a world where danger was a constant companion.

Over the next few days, as intelligence reports and mission updates piled up, your secret relationship with Javi remained a quiet source of strength. In the brief moments between operations, you would exchange coded messages and subtle signals that only the two of you could understand. Every time your phone buzzed with a discreet “Javi check-in,” your heart skipped a beat—a reminder that in the midst of chaos, love was still your anchor.

One afternoon, as you were reviewing a detailed report on Cali’s latest movements, your secure line lit up with his familiar number. You answered immediately, your voice husky with anticipation.

“Y/N,” Javi’s voice came through, low and reassuring. “I need a favor. There’s a situation unfolding at one of our forward posts. I could really use your expertise on this.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you responded, “I’m on it, Javi. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Just hold tight, okay?”

“Thank you,” he replied, relief evident in his tone. “I knew I could count on you. I’ll keep you updated.”

Driving through the night to the designated location, you rehearsed the plan in your mind—an intricate blend of CIA precision and field experience honed over years of challenging missions. The weight of responsibility was immense, but so was the knowledge that you and Javi had each other’s backs, no matter what.

When you arrived at the site—a remote outpost near the border—Javi greeted you with a tired smile and a quick, affectionate hug that conveyed both gratitude and a silent promise to return safe. “You always know how to show up when it matters,” he whispered into your ear.

Together, you assessed the situation, your dialogue blending strategy with subtle, unspoken care. “We need to secure the perimeter and establish a communication line with headquarters,” you instructed the team. Javi nodded, his eyes meeting yours in a moment of shared understanding. Every command, every reassurance he offered to the team, was backed by the quiet strength you saw in him—the strength that made you believe that together, nothing was insurmountable.

Hours later, as the operation wound down and the immediate threat was contained, you found a quiet corner away from the chaos. Javi, looking a bit weathered but resolute, pulled you aside. “Y/N,” he said softly, “I couldn’t have done this without you. I know I’m not always the easiest person to work with, but you— you make me better.”

You smiled, your eyes glistening with emotion. “Javi, we’re in this together. I trust you with everything I have, and I know you feel the same. We’re a team—on the field, and in life.”

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped yours. “I do. I love you, Y/N. And I promise, no matter how hard the work gets, I’ll always come back to you.”

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of a hard-fought battle and the quiet resolve of those who had risked everything, you felt the truth of his words deep in your heart. Love, trust, and courage—they were the pillars upon which you both built your lives, even if the world around you was steeped in danger.

As the night drew to a close and you finally returned to your apartment, you replayed every conversation, every glance shared with Javi, knowing that your secret relationship was the one beacon of hope in a turbulent world. And as you prepared for the next day’s challenges, you vowed that no matter what lay ahead, you and Javi would face it side by side—brave hearts in the shadows, united by duty and bound by love.

In the quiet moments before sleep claimed you, you smiled softly at the memory of Javi’s gentle kiss on your knuckles, the whispered promise that everything would be alright. Despite the hard work, the secrets, and the ever-present danger, you knew that you had found something worth fighting for—a love that shone as brightly as the stars above, even in the darkest of times.

And as the new day dawned, with its fresh challenges and uncertain battles, you were ready—ready to take on the world with the strength of your convictions, the support of your secret love, and the unbreakable bond that held you both together, even in the shadows.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

unpopular thought, but I still wish that rachel mcadams was going to play clea

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Prefect Was Here

Synopsis: The VDC boys notice the ways in which The Prefect has left their mark.

Something Ace notices during his time staying in Ramshackle is the various out of place chairs and boxes in different rooms of the dorm. He first realized they were there because he would trip over them or stub his toe on their corners. He'd move the objects out of the way to prevent himself from injuring himself on them again, but the next day they'd be back in their spots. This little cycle of him stumbling over the objects, moving them, and then stumbling over them again the next day repeated for a while until one late evening when the pieces clicked. Ace was leaving his room to get a glass of water from the kitchen when he looked over the railing of the stairs to see you stood atop one of the particularly annoying chairs placed in the lounge. A chair he trips over almost every morning in his half-awake state placed right next to the fireplace. Watching you organize various photo albums on a shelf above the mantle, he finally understood. He stopped moving the objects that no longer seemed out of place after that. They were right where they belonged: next to tall shelves, high up windows, and the occasional rickety door you had to open by shimmying it open from the top.

You often lent Deuce your notes to copy for those class periods he just couldn't keep his eyes open: exhausted from a long night of studying. At first he didn't notice anything, too busy frantically taking notes. It wasn't until he was staying in Ramshackle and he no longer had to worry about getting your notebook to you before day's end when you'd head off to your dorm and he to his that he saw it. As he was studying your notes he saw a little doodle on the edge of the page. The doodle was of Grim stirring a cauldron while standing on a stool, his goggles falling off his head. As he continued through your notes he saw ones of Epel carving an apple, Rook shooting a bow, and Vil looking studying rehearsal footage. Flipping back through the book and starting from the beginning he noticed the doodles seemed to be telling the story of your time at NRC. Early in the book, before there were notes on classes, there were doodles of the dark mirror, Crowley, and Grim. About the time you were officially enrolled there were drawings of the great 7, Ace with a smug look on his face, and even Deuce summoning a cauldron. He's asking to borrow your notes again? You could have sworn he was awake all class period (he just wants to see any new doodles).

Kalim noticed the walls, or more specifically: what was on them. It wasn't the boarded-up holes that drew his attention, nor was it the dust that you never could seem to get rid of completely. What got Kalim's attention were the drawings. In the kitchen, in your room, and on various doors there were drawings taped to the wood. Some were colorful while other were monochrome. Big, small, detailed, simple; he loved all of them! In your room you had an entire wall covered in pieces of your art, many of said pieces being of your friends and your various adventures. Your door was basically an extension of that wall just with a prominent sign in the middle reading 'Prefect and Grim.' Grim's name seemed to be written in his own handwriting (pawwriting?) and at the bottom of the sign laid a pawprint and a handprint. The other doors that had signs were rooms like the bathroom, laundry room, and the rooms each of the boys stayed in. The first few signs were put there by yourself to help the guys more easily navigate the sometimes-confusing building while the ones on each of their doors was to make them feel like they too belonged there. The kitchen had various drawings or little doodles your friends made for you. No matter how simple or detailed the drawing, you had every single thing anyone had drawn for your here displayed on the wall. All but Grim's art. He had his own pedestal (the fridge) for that. Kalim made sure to make his fair share of contributions to your display wall.

Jamil was in charge of the kitchen during the VDC and found some things rather unusual from the moment he stepped foot in there. Nearly all of your upper shelves were completely empty and when he pulled out a drawer he assumed would be a utensil drawer all he found was towels. That would be fine on its own, but none of the drawers had utensils. The upper cabinets that did have things in them held cleaning supplies, items that are commonly agreed to go below the sink. Just when he thought he was going to have to go back to Scarabia to get any kitchenware, he checked the lower cabinets. That's where he found pots, pans, cups, plates, and any other kitchen item you'd need all organized nicely as if they weren't in the most bizarre of places. Just as he was about to resign to silently judging you for your dishware placement, Grim came up beside him and opened one of the lower cabinets to grab a cup before scampering over to a step ladder placed next to the counter so he could reach the faucet and fill his cup with water. After seeing that he supposed your placement of things made sense. And after much time cooking in your kitchen as well as having to bend down to grab items he also realized that you must be even kinder than he originally thought (or just plain stupid, but he's keeping that thought to himself).

Vil is a man of beauty. He believes in not only you as a person looking your best at all times but also making sure your surrounding look their best. He understood most of Ramshackle's 'quirks' were unfixable as things were, and you did seem to keep the place remarkably clean all things considered, but there was something that caught his scrutinous eye. Clothes hung up to dry in the laundry room and bathroom (it was too cold to dry them outside) splattered in paint and a door that had matching patterns. At one point he grew curious as to what could possibly possess a person to leave a door in such a state and decided to open it. He almost fainted when he saw inside. The walls, ceiling, floor, and any furniture unlucky enough to be in the room was covered in layers of paint. The only thing that seemed to be kept clean was the window with a view of the forest beside the dorm. He left that day deciding that how you kept that room didn't affect him. As long as your mess didn't encroach into his space he would leave you to your mayhem. However, something odd began to happen. On a day Vil felt especially stressed, he went to do his laundry. When he closed the washer door and turned it on he looked up to see a row of paint splattered clothes hung up to dry, and before he knew it he was opening the door to what he assumed to be your art studio. He closed the door gently behind him and simply stood there in the room as the evening sun cast warm rays of light in through the window. It was as he stood there that he realized just how comforting the room's atmosphere was. It was hectic with all the paint everywhere and yet calming and homely at the same time. Now whenever he got too stressed during the VDC he went to that room to simply take a moment to breathe and forget about the stresses of being perfect. To look around at the remnants of pieces you put your heart and soul in splattered across the walls: telling a story only you know but that anyone who takes the time to observe can feel. Now, he may even see your paint splattered clothes and face to be rather endearing (not that he'll admit it).

Ever the hunter of Beauty, Rook notices a lot of ways in which you leave your mark on this world. The stickers on the covers of your notebooks, the patched sewn a bit sloppily onto your clothes, and even the spots on your front doorstep that have been ever so slightly worn down from scraping off mud and/or snow every time you come inside are all glorious examples of how you make the world more beautiful by being here. However, he does have a favorite. Out of every way you show that you've been here in this world, that you existed, his favorite by far is yours and Grim's height charts lightly scratched into the wall in a corner of the kitchen in a nook between the fridge and the wall. You wouldn't see it unless you really looked, but as we all know, he looks. Seemingly etched into the wall with a fork, butterknife, or something of the sort as not to be erased or easily covered up by paint are two separate sets of dashes. One is low to the floor while the other is about where the top of your head would be were you to stand with your back to the wall. Each chart has initials below the lowest mark and each dash has a date next to it. However, what really gets Rook's heart soaring is the initials and how after the letter of each of your first names there is an R. Now, Rook knows Grim doesn't have a last name and that you haven't uttered a word about what yours is (whether it be because you forgot or just simply don't want to tell people). Overwhelmed with curiosity he hunts down the ghosts to ask them the meaning of the R to which they tell him it stands for Ramshackle. You and Grim saw each other as family and so you decided to unofficially create a last name to share. When you were unable to agree on a good one you suggested Ramshackle so as to always remember your roots in this world. Rook won't encroach on the memory by asking to put a height chart of his own next to the two of yours, but you do notice that suddenly any official paperwork you or Grim gets has 'Ramshackle' after your first names.

What Epel notices are the big tape Xs in various places within the dorm. On the stairs, on the a spot in the hallway on the 2nd floor, there're even parts of the banister wrapped in blue tape. At some point he gets curious and prods at the banister only for it to sway and nearly fall off. This catches his attention so he goes through the dorm looking for places with tape on them to see if his hypothesis was correct, and, wouldn't ya know it, it was. All the places with tape are areas that could be considered hazardous for one reason or another. At first he wonders if you were just really dumb and put tape there to try and fix it, but when he sees you avoiding the areas too he decided that's not it. Then the idea comes up that perhaps they're there for an inspector that's going to come to fix up ramshackle, but it becomes apparent that's not the case when you come back one evening: exhausted from trying to convince Crowley to do something about the water damage in the attic only to be shut down. It isn't until he sees you yank Kalim back by the collar of his shirt as he was about to step on one of the Xs that he realizes you put them there to keep people safe. Epel tried pulling up a piece of tape at one pint in his inspection to get a better idea of what was underneath it and for the life of him he couldn't get it unstuck. At least he know for sure that it will stay there for generations to come acting as a kind reminder to anyone else who ventures into the dorm to avoid those areas and keep themselves safe.

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[bookished]

HOW TO GIVE PERSONALITY TO A CHARACTER

Giving personality to a character is an essential part of character development in storytelling, whether you're writing a novel, screenplay, or creating a character for a role-playing game. Here are some steps and considerations to help you give personality to your character:

Understand Their Backstory:

Start by creating a detailed backstory for your character. Where were they born? What were their childhood experiences like? What significant events have shaped their life? Understanding their past can help you determine their motivations, fears, and desires.

2. Define Their Goals and Motivations:

Characters often become more interesting when they have clear goals and motivations. What does your character want? It could be something tangible like a job or a romantic relationship, or it could be an abstract desire like happiness or freedom.

3. Determine Their Strengths and Weaknesses:

No one is perfect, and characters should reflect this. Identify your character's strengths and weaknesses. This can include physical abilities, intellectual skills, and personality traits. Flaws can make characters relatable and three-dimensional.

4. Consider Their Personality Traits:

Think about your character's personality traits. Are they introverted or extroverted? Shy or outgoing? Kind or selfish? Create a list of traits that describe their character. You can use personality frameworks like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator or the Big Five Personality Traits as a starting point.

5. Give Them Quirks and Habits:

Quirks and habits can make a character memorable. Do they have a specific way of speaking, a unique fashion style, or an unusual hobby? These details can help bring your character to life.

6. Explore Their Relationships:

Characters don't exist in isolation. Consider how your character interacts with others. What are their relationships like with family, friends, and enemies? These relationships can reveal a lot about their personality.

7. Show, Don't Tell:

Instead of explicitly telling the audience about your character's personality, show it through their actions, dialogue, and decisions. Let the reader or viewer infer their traits based on their behavior.

8. Create Internal Conflict:

Characters with internal conflicts are often more engaging. What inner struggles does your character face? These can be related to their goals, values, or past experiences.

9. Use Character Arcs:

Consider how your character will change or grow throughout the story. Character development is often about how a character evolves in response to the events and challenges they face.

10. Seek Inspiration:

Draw inspiration from real people, other fictional characters, or even historical figures. Study how people with similar traits and backgrounds behave to inform your character's actions and reactions.

11. Write Dialogue and Inner Monologues:

Writing dialogue and inner monologues from your character's perspective can help you get inside their head and understand their thought processes and emotions.

12. Consider the Setting:

The setting of your story can influence your character's personality. For example, a character who grows up in a war-torn environment may have a different personality than one raised in a peaceful, affluent society.

13. Revise and Refine:

Don't be afraid to revise and refine your character as you write and develop your story. Characters can evolve and change as the narrative unfolds.

Remember that well-developed characters are dynamic and multi-faceted. They should feel like real people with strengths, weaknesses, and complexities. As you write and develop your character, put yourself in their shoes and think about how they would react to various situations. This will help you create a compelling and believable personality for your character.

[assriels]

lessons in touch

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel’s curiosity and penchant for spying reveals exactly why you’ve been more…enthusiastic in bed lately

word count: 5.8k :0

warnings: smut (not super detailed)!! 18+ mdni pls, az being nosy

a/n: this is one of my faves so far :’) i have this persistent silly headcanon that az is the biggest busybody of them all and that’s why he’s so good at his job

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banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Sex between you and Azriel was far from boring. It was a well known secret that Azriel had a predilection towards kink and experimentation, so your adventures with him between the sheets never left either of you dissatisfied. Far from it, actually.

Being with him was always pleasurable, wonderful, and unrivaled by any you’d had before him. During girls night, you had always attested to his prowess, said that his skills of observation extended past the battlefield and very much into the bedroom. And his wingspan…you would neither confirm nor deny whether the theory around Illyrian males and their wingspan was true, much to their chagrin, but the mischievous smirk that curled your lips was all they needed to confirm their suspicions.

Azriel was a skilled lover; he knew your ins and outs, understood almost innately how to coax pleasure from you with a simple, well placed brush of his fingers. More often than not, Azriel had you in a puddle on the floor before he could even take his pants off. Which, ordinarily, was a more than welcome skill — you loved how well he knew you, adored how he loved you so much that his brain was like a file cabinet of information about things you liked.

But you’d grown frustrated lately, more and more desiring to reduce Azriel to the same pleasure filled putty that he so often did with you. His composure was infuriatingly ironclad; you knew he felt the same primal, overwhelming desire that you did — such was the nature of the mating bond — but he was much better at masking it.

In short, you wanted to know what made him tick, what made him beg and whimper and plead with you to touch him. You’d been mated for a year now, and while his desire for you never waned, you had yet to find the one thing that made him sink to his knees and beg the way he so easily coaxed you to do for him.

It was no secret that your mate had a bold competitive streak. But your own stubbornness rivaled his own, leading to long, long card game nights and sparring matches — much to everyone else’s entertainment.

Though you knew you had no reason to feel such competitiveness when matters of the bedroom were concerned, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance that Azriel had so easily figured out how to make you squirm in a multitude of ways — with all your cards on the table — while you were still somewhat in the dark about his most favored bedroom inclinations. Azriel kept the secrets of his hand close to his chest.

So you vowed to yourself that you’d figure it out, test his composure to see how exactly to make that beautiful, calm countenance crack. It was like a game, but one you were more than willing to play and even more determined to win.

Ever the observer however, Azriel caught on to the changes in your excitement beneath the sheets, amusement and adoration coursing through his veins as he reveled in your sudden vigor, never shying away from a challenge.

You had been more experimental in your bedroom endeavors as of late, asking him to bend you this way and that, introducing things that he never thought you’d be interested in — not that he was complaining in the slightest. Though your differences were strikingly obvious, Azriel would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about where your sudden interest in various sexual niches had sprung from.

Initially, it was all fun and games; if you wanted to explore then so be it — he’d match you stroke for stroke every time. But eventually, his nosiness had wedged its way deep into each crevice of his mind until he was all-consumed, curiosity devolving into a burgeoning anxiety.

Was something wrong?

Azriel was positive that if you were bored you would tell him. Had you heard something from one of the others that spurred you to want to explore more? Had you felt as though you had to introduce novelty every time to please him?

You had to have known that was far from the truth; no matter your state, Azriel had always made it clear to you that you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever had the privilege of knowing, let alone laying with. He didn’t think there was anything wrong…at least not for him. Maybe you felt like something was missing.

“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”

Rhys’s voice snapped him out of his anxious musings. Azriel hadn’t realized that he was pacing so furiously he could have worn a hole through the floor. Both Rhysand and Cassian had been watching with amusement glinting in their eyes. After all, it was a rare sight to see their ordinarily calm and stoic shadowsinger so worked up.

The same poker face Azriel had worn to win countless games of cards against his brothers masked his features now, but the twitch in his brow and the near missable ruffling of his wings were tells that Cassian and Rhysand were well acquainted with.

The shadowsinger had never perfected his stone faced indifference when he was thinking of you.

Cassian ventured a guess, “Have you upset Y/N?”

Cassian had meant to tease, but the way Azriel stayed silent had his eyebrow arching in question. Azriel ignored the curious glance from his brother as his mind ran in circles once more.

Had he upset you? Was your sudden experimentation in bed some roundabout way of telling him that he had done something to hurt you? No, no…that didn’t make sense, he was being illogical.

Or…Had he somehow missed picking up on something that you liked?

Your sudden interest in sexual exploration was far from a problem, but he got the niggling sense that you were up to something, playing a game that he wasn’t privy to. And he wanted in.

Azriel was private by nature, never revealing more of his relationship with you than absolutely necessary to his brothers, not wanting to overshare in fear that he’d fall victim to their incessant teasing. But this…maybe it would be useful to get their opinions about your sudden change in interests? Cassian and Rhys were both mated males afterall, and maybe there was something Azriel was missing. He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but he fell victim to his crippling neuroticism more times than he’d like to. Curiosity and anxiety were two sides of the same coin.

So he indulged and told his brothers of your sudden vigor in bed, enthusiasm to try something new every single time. You’d been insatiable as of late and he didn’t know why; nothing had changed that he knew of and it was concerning him, he couldn’t stand not knowing.

“So,” Rhys started tentatively, narrowing his eyes in confusion, not quite grasping the issue that Azriel was so hesitant to endorse. “Y/N is trying new things in bed.”

And elsewhere, Azriel thought with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’d leave that part out, though; Rhys probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing the details about the going-ons in the dining room of the townhouse. And the gardens. And the hallways.

“And you’re complaining?” Cassian asked, incredulous, similarly at a loss for his brother’s concern.

“I’m not complaining, Cass,” Azriel groaned and slumped unceremoniously into a chair (much like an irritated school child who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to), immediately regretting his poorly thought out decision to confide in his brothers. “I’m just confused. I don’t know what she wants.”

“Have you considered asking her?” Rhys inquired, infuriatingly teasing smile curving his lips.

Azriel deadpanned and clicked his tongue, not believing that Rhys would assume he was so inept at communicating with his lover, “Of course I’ve asked. She just says nothing’s changed. I believe her, but it’s still bothering me and I don’t know why.”

Both Cassian and Rhys resisted the urge to laugh, mentally conversing about how Azriel’s affections for you often reduced him to an adolescent-like lovesickness, begging and willing to please. Az had been this way since they were children; fiercely competitive and subsequently pouty if he didn’t have the upper hand, always wanting to know and learn everything he could.

This side of the shadowsinger was one that did not make an appearance often, reserving itself until he was around the few he trusted wholeheartedly.

The past couple of centuries saw even less of this endearingly childish and competitive Azriel – even around his closest friends – as Night Court duties and his identity as Spymaster overshadowed most opportunities to be vulnerable in his relationships.

But when you came around, light began to spark beneath the shadowy depths of Azriel’s countenance as you slowly coaxed him to trust and love as fiercely as everyone knew he was capable of, with the reckless abandon that his childhood self so easily embodied.

“Maybe check her nightstand,” Cassian teased with a wink, only half joking, as a quiet happiness bubbled within him at the small glimpses of Azriel’s vulnerability. “Some of Nesta’s best kept secrets are hidden there.”

Before Azriel could furrow his brow and chastise his brother for snooping through his mate’s belongings, a realization hit him.

Nesta.

You had been spending an awfully large amount of time with the eldest Archeron sister in the library lately, choosing to hole up there in lieu of your other hobbies when you weren’t training or engaging in your various other Night Court duties.

But Nesta would be a dead end. There was no way he could approach her without tipping you off to his secret sleuthing. Though he and Nesta were friends, her loyalties laid with you; there was an unexplainable female camaraderie between you – a chosen sisterhood, if you will – and if he asked if she knew anything about what was going on, she’d go running to you, mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

The conversation with his brothers was about as helpful as he initially thought it would be, and he let himself succumb to their jokes about how wrapped around your finger he was. Azriel had endured it graciously, knowing better than anyone that they were right, that he was indeed wrapped so tightly around your little finger that he was unsure of where he ended and you began. That he would gratefully stay in the palm of your hand for as long as you would allow.

But that night, after you had told him not to wait up for you because you’d be having drinks with Feyre and Mor, Cassian’s voice reverberated insistently in his mind.

Check her nightstand…best kept secrets…

Azriel resisted the urge to snoop for all of ten minutes before his inherent nosiness clouded his judgment and got the better of him; afterall, his love for secrets is what made him such an effective spymaster. Before he knew it, he was rolling onto your side of the bed, inquisitive hands pulling open your bedside drawer.

Hidden among the small stack of books he had given you was a thick novel with a cover he recognized, but gave no second thought.

It was a book you said Nesta had lent you. When he asked if you liked it you said it was “only okay” and that you’d let him know if he should read it when you were finished. Despite your lukewarm review, however, it had never left your side, and he had found you on more than one occasion cozied up with it in your hands, cheeks dusted with a heat he knew all too well.

Azriel was well aware of the content of the books Nesta favored, often lending a reluctant ear to a whiny Cassian whenever she paid more attention to her books than him.

But there was no way your sudden excitement for novelty in the bedroom could be inspired by Nesta’s smutty recommendations…right? He leafed through, assessing hazel eyes quickly skimming the paragraphs, catching glimpses of the prose that had you so enraptured.

Azriel felt the back of his neck heat.

It was smut, as he assumed. But this was truly…filth. Pure, unadulterated, filthy smut.

Azriel was a lover of all books, never having been one to categorize or judge them by popular opinion. And, to be completely fair, he had read a decent amount of books filled with sex and romance.

But…he was sure that the acts detailed in this one would make even the Court of Nightmares’s debauchery look saintly. Even Azriel, who had been correctly assumed to be the kinkiest of the Inner Circle, felt tame in comparison to the words flickering across the pages of your book. How did you read this with such impassivity on your face?

Azriel snapped the book shut with such force the pages blew a cool, gentle breeze onto his heating face. He tried – and failed – to not picture you in the position the main character in your book was described in, unintentionally sending a soft hum of his burgeoning arousal down your bond. He was beginning to understand your desire to replicate the more salacious scenes detailed in your novels.

Having fun without me, Az? Came your teasing inquiry in his mind, as he meticulously replaced all of your belongings into your nightstand.

Don’t be nosy, he quipped back, extremely aware of the irony of his statement. And then after a beat he added, answering your question with a sincerity that never failed to grip your heart, Never without you, love.

You left him waiting for a response a little bit longer than you normally would as you attempted to control the thundering beat of your heart in your chest. You were convinced that no amount of time could ever diminish the effects that Azriel’s blatant display of love had on your composure. As much as he was wrapped around your little finger, you were just as tightly wrapped around his.

I take back what I said earlier, wait up for me.

Azriel smirked to himself, feeling a flare of triumph, It’s a date, then. Maybe I’ll find something interesting to read in the meantime.

If you caught on to his sly insinuation, you did not let on, just continued bantering with him for a few moments before returning your full attention to your friends, who were no doubt attempting to extract morsels of information from your obviously lascivious exchange with your lover.

But that night – even after Azriel had promptly fucked you into a blissful oblivion – had yielded no more information about your recent proclivity for finding a new kink, so Azriel did what he did best and spied.

He kept a watchful eye on the books you read, and tracked the times you asked him to try something new. He spent more time in the library than necessary under the guise that Rhys had put him up to some research.

Which was only half of a lie. He was in there to do reconnaissance, yes, just not for Rhys.

Azriel scanned the bookshelves for anything that seemed like it had been recently replaced, pages still clinging to the sweet scent of your skin. A title he recognized caught his eye and he slotted it out of place, flipping through the pages to confirm his suspicions.

This book was shorter than the others he’d seen you carry around, but certainly no less obscene. A smirk pulled at Azriel’s lips as he read a dog eared chapter that you had clearly marked for inspiration, recollections of your most recent tryst in his office flooding his awareness.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You had sauntered into his small, private study at the House of Wind, short dress skimming the curves of your thighs as you bent to greet him with a kiss to his cheek. He’d been distracted at the time — surveying maps and cross referencing with ancient textbooks — and barely tore his attention away from his work long enough to squeeze your hand in greeting.

But you didn’t seem to mind, opting to make yourself comfortable and purveying the books neatly organized on his shelves. When you’d found a book you thought would be interesting enough — though probably not quite as interesting as the one you’d just finished, per Nesta’s recommendation — you settled into the armchair across Azriel’s desk, shoulders against one armrest as your legs draped over the other.

Azriel looked up at you then, soft smile curving his lips. He loved when you kept him company while he worked; somehow, whenever you were around, work never seemed nearly as daunting or overwhelming.

You met his gaze with your own grin, silently communicating your support of him in the way that only mates could, tugging gently on the bond before winking at him and resettling your attention back to the book in your lap.

The both of you worked in that wonderfully comfortable silence for a while before Azriel caught you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. The sun had begun its routine descent below the horizon, cool breeze stirring the sheer curtains framing his windows. Though summer had plagued the days with heat and humidity, the nights were still cool as the last dregs of spring eked away.

He looked up, intending on asking if you needed anything — a blanket, maybe — but the words died swiftly in his throat when he eyed a flash of bare skin as you swung your legs to stand, showcasing just enough for him to clue in to the fact that you were indeed not wearing underwear. Or anything else under your dress, if the peak of your nipples beneath the silk was anything to go by.

Selfishly, for a brief moment, Azriel decided that maybe keeping the windows open wouldn’t be so bad.

He pried his eyes away from your form making its way back to his bookcase, and instead attempted to tamp down the raging lust stirring in his belly so he could focus. But the mental picture of what he knew lay beneath the barely there fabric of your dress coupled with your scent made the lines on the map he was studying blur into nonsense.

Though intelligent and compassionate at heart, Azriel often found himself a slave to his baser male instincts when it came to you. There was little – if anything – you could do to quell the raging need to touch you, kiss you, be near you at all hours of the day; his desire for you was a constant hum belying his daily routine. He had not one iota of self control when you were involved, much to his simultaneous thrill and chagrin.

Inwardly, he cursed himself as he stole another glance at you as you stretched onto your toes to reach a book on the top shelf.

Beauty incarnate, truly, he thought. Azriel’s eyes tracked each slope and valley of the lines of your body, taking his time to commit each curve to memory, the way he should have been doing with the maps sitting now uselessly on his desk.

You looked at him over your shoulder, small pout on your lips, “Az, can you help me? I can’t reach.”

Azriel’s heart leapt. It’s like you were doing it on purpose, and in hindsight you definitely were. But despite the gnawing adoration encouraging him to fall to his knees and worship at your feet, he stood with the cool grace of someone unperturbed by their mate’s subtle seduction.

Azriel obliged you, coming up behind you, one hand curling around your hip to steady himself as the other reached easily to the top shelf to grab the book your fingertips skimmed. As he leaned forward, you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back and you wanted to abandon all your plans to slowly seduce Azriel into a puddle on the floor, but you remained steadfast in your decision. Nesta had pushed a book into your hands and said she tried this once with Cassian and that the resulting hours were pure heaven, and you wanted to test the theory, curiosity rivaling that of your mate’s.

You barely registered Azriel putting the book in your hands, too lost in the warmth of his familiar touch. But you composed yourself quickly, leaning back into him to kiss him in thanks, not so subtly pushing your ass back into his hips. A feeling of revelry settled in your chest when you felt him already half hard beneath his pants, his fingers curling tighter around your hip.

Oh so reluctantly, you pulled away, perfect picture of obliviousness as you plopped back down on the armchair you were occupying previously.

Azriel thought he would collapse in on himself when you went to sit back down. You had him so tightly ensnared it was like he was still in the midst of the initial mating frenzy. He briefly wondered if the mind-boggling need for you would ever go away, though part of him knew hoped it never would.

He took a moment to compose himself — if that was even possible when one’s mate was clearly playing a dangerous game of seduction — bracing himself with one arm steady against the bookshelf.

Despite how much Azriel so greatly wanted to shirk his responsibilities to bend you over his desk, he wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. The work day wasn’t quite over, and the plans he was making for you would surely last too long to finish his research afterwards. So he steeled himself and took a deep, steadying breath, willing his blood to fill his head again so he could think with some semblance of clarity.

Though at baseline, he always found it difficult to think rationally when you were around.

While Azriel was trying — and failing — to regain his composure, you were feigning extreme interest in the book you had selected at random: The History and Systems of Fae War Treaties.

If Azriel had been paying any attention to what you were reaching for, he’d have caught on to your ploy, but luckily for you the mere sight of you was enough to render him at least somewhat incapacitated.

You took a peek at him over the back of the chair, triumphant satisfaction crooking your lips into a mischievous smile. Maybe this would be the day he finally cracks, you think to yourself.

But as the sun dipped lower beneath the skyline of Velaris below, and as Azriel stubbornly worked away at his desk, you felt the tiredness of the day settle into your bones, pull you deeper into the plush leather of Azriel’s loveseat. Cassian had run you ragged with training this morning, and Rhys and Amren had your mind working tirelessly as the three of you attempted to draft a peace treaty in a meager four hours.

But you wouldn’t sleep, not yet, not until you had reduced Azriel to a beautiful, orgasmic mess in his chair. Not until the hazel of his eyes were blown dark with desire and pleading as you straddled his hips.

The next hour was a fight to stay awake as the words on the pages in your lap began to blur into obscurity, mind muddling with theories and questions — though the book was an off handed choice, you couldn’t deny that the information was coincidentally incredibly pertinent to the discussion you were having with Rhys and Amren earlier in the day.

The telltale sigh of a day’s work completed pulled your attention away from your book, gaze settling on your mate. His hair was mused in a way that told you he had spent the last however long skating his fingers through it, but as always it fell perfectly across his forehead in defiance of the tiredness creeping up his neck.

Azriel’s eyes met yours and apparently your coy seduction earlier still held his body in a vice, evident in the way he stood and stalked to you. There was a cool, domineering edge to his movements and you knew your plan had worked to a degree, but the determination you had to break him down had leeched out of you the same way the night had stolen the day’s heat.

You hummed in satisfaction as he leaned down to kiss you, the pressure gentle and so, so sweet. A stark contrast to the dark and tempting storm of desire Azriel flooded your senses with down the bond.

Never once breaking the contact of your kiss, he’d wedged a knee between your legs as one hand braced against the arm of the loveseat while the other danced at the hem of your dress, endearingly asking for permission.

Your mouth curved against his and you guided his hand up to your hip, gasping delightedly when his hand tracked further up your waist, bringing the hem of your dress up with it as he slotted your hips more comfortably against his leg.

His lips traced a scalding trail of open mouthed kisses against your jaw, your neck, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest that had your hips rolling against him.

“So bold for me,” he said, his hand skating across your unclothed skin while he urged your hips to grind a little harder against his thigh. You gasped, the pressure so wonderfully perfect against your cunt.

Though your initial intention was to get Azriel all hot and bothered, you couldn’t deny that the game you had set yourself up in had the same effect on you; the lingering, almost lazy path his eyes swept over your body every time you shifted across from him left heat singing between your legs, untamed longing for you dancing down the golden thread between you.

“Az…” you rasped, arching your hips up to meet his still clothed body, the top of your dress pushed languidly down to your waist as Azriel played slow music on the skin of your breasts. The loveseat was a cramped fit at best, but Azriel’s surprising flexibility and dexterity made it work despite the general largeness of his wings and frame. He’d made even the smallest corners of the House work for your sexual escapades.

The memories of all the scandalous little happenings you two have been partaking in the past few months flitted across your mind’s eye like an erotic slideshow, and you groaned. Legs tightening around his in desperate search for more friction, more contact, more of him. His name on your lips again was a wanton plea, a sound so wonderfully obscene Azriel almost came in his pants.

“Hmm?” He hummed, closing his lips around your nipple, teeth gently tugging before his tongue was quick to soothe the ache. The way your hips were grinding so shamelessly against him had his head spinning with a swirling mix of lust and love, and he clung to the last shreds of self discipline he had. It was all he could do to not tear both of your clothes off and sink himself deep into your brilliant warmth.

Azriel had always been patient, mastery over his desire was a skill he’d honed meticulously over the past few centuries — though you had a way of quickly unraveling his self control with one flutter of your eyelashes. But he wanted to make this last for you, wanted to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible. So he pressed his thigh more firmly between your legs, his own hips slotting against the side of your body.

You gasped at the feel of him, of how hard he was against your hip, and you tried to reach him, tried to get him to release some of the tension you knew coiled in his belly. He groaned deep and breathless when you pressed insistently against him, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he continued his ministrations on your body.

Azriel’s hands were everywhere, trailing paths around your breasts, up your neck, into your hair, and between your legs the way he no doubt was doing with the maps on his desk earlier.

It was infuriating how close you were already, how swiftly the tables had turned (though you half blamed the sudden onset of your fatigue the day had cursed you with), how with one well placed touch you were on the brink of collapse at Azriel’s mercy yet again.

He was urging your hips faster now, his fingers and lips making quick work of all the places he knew would have you keening. And before you could even register that he was still fully clothed, hard cock still straining against the confines of his pants, you were falling, breathless and dizzy with release.

The night had been far from over. You came twice more in that godsdamned loveseat – once with his fingers buried inside you and another time with his head between your legs – before he whisked you away to your bedroom where you finally, finally felt the delicious stretch of him inside you.

By the time the sun was making its appearance over the horizon once more, you had lost count of how many times Azriel had you begging.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Though your spicy little rendezvous in his office – and encore in the bedroom – wasn’t quite an exact replica of what played out in the book you had apparently just read, Azriel had thought your coy seduction had its intended effect. He’d been so fucking desperate for you that he couldn’t wait until you were out of his study to have you coming for him.

But, as he skimmed the pages of the chapter you marked, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he wouldn’t mind being fully at the mercy of your whims, wouldn’t mind submitting to the pleasure that you so easily coaxed from him. He was already always so eager to please you, so willing to crawl to the ends of the earth for you if you had so much as suggested you wanted him to.

“Azriel?” Nesta’s voice dripped with wicked amusement, effectively pulling him from his erotic reverie. “I never thought I’d see you in this section of the library.”

Fuck.

He hadn’t anticipated that he’d run into Nesta, a severely idiotic oversight on his part considering the House’s library was something akin to her own personal sanctuary. Azriel turned slowly on his heels to face her, mind working in overdrive to come up with a viable excuse for him being there.

“Nesta,” was all he came up with. Pathetic.

Her smirk turned deadly when she realized he was floundering. Arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted ever so slightly upwards, she looked the very portrait of smug amusement; he would expect nothing less of his friend who moonlighted as Lady Death.

Nesta’s eyes dropped to the book he forgot he was holding, and her eyebrows shot up in understanding, “Ah, I just recommended that one to Y/N. She gave it a hefty five stars. Said it was…intriguing.”

Nesta’s sly comments were enough to confirm Azriel’s suspicions that you were taking bedroom inspiration from the arsenal of smutty books the House stocked. And, with the way Nesta was biting her tongue, he could tell that she knew exactly why he was there.

Cassian, that fucking mouthy bastard.

Before Azriel could open his mouth to tell her that it wasn’t what it looked like – even though they both knew it was exactly what it looked like – Nesta stalked past him, pulling books off the shelf with striking precision. With a stack of five books balanced on one hand, she took the one Azriel was holding and reshelved it.

“These are Y/N’s favorite,” she said, this time with a little bit more softness and understanding as she placed them gingerly in his arms. “I’m sure she’d love if you read them.”

Azriel scanned each cover, a fond smile working to tilt the corners of his lips. You did love these; he had been familiar with these covers long before you were even mated, always keeping a lovingly watchful eye on the things you enjoyed, filing the knowledge away in his mind for later.

“Thanks, Nesta,” he said sincerely, adoration for you filling his chest with warmth as he remembered the excitement lighting your eyes while you read these books, cute flush radiating off your cheeks.

Nesta only nodded, giving his shoulder an encouraging few pats as she stalked off to another aisle, no doubt scouring the shelves for a new read.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Azriel told himself that he’d only read a few chapters — for research — but he hadn’t realized that he’d spent the better half of his day off lounging on the loveseat in his study.

Despite his previous reservations around the smutty books you’d so lovingly treasured, he found he was enjoying them — and not just for the well written, detailed sex scenes that you were pulling ideas from. He was two-thirds of the way through the second book, in the midst of the big climax, when you snuck up on him.

“It seems you’ve discovered my dirty little secret,” you said coyly, arms coming up behind him to snake around his shoulders.

Azriel jumped at your sudden appearance, inwardly cursing himself for teaching you how to sneak up on someone so effectively. He closed the book swiftly, feeling a flustered blush creep up his neck.

You pouted and rested your chin on his shoulder, “Aw, you were just getting to the best part! Don’t stop reading on my account.”

Azriel groaned but gave in, leaning back into your touch, “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never tease you, my love,” you said mockingly before kissing his cheek. “It is really the best part, though. The paint scene—“

Before you could regale the details of the main characters’ sexual escapades, Azriel took your chin in his fingers and slotted his lips over yours in a silent plea to stop your innocent tormenting. He reveled in the way you kissed him back without pause; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way you loved him as eagerly as he did you.

“Dirty little secret, huh?” He quipped, lips brushing yours as a bemused smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you made your way around the back of the chair, gesturing for him to uncross his legs so you could settle yourself on his lap.

Your weight was a welcome comfort as he continued prodding you, “Is this why you’ve been so…eager lately?”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted, winding your arms around his neck as he scoffed in mock disbelief.

“Give me some credit love, I notice everything when it comes to you.” Came his quick response.

You pursed your lips, half in childish dissatisfaction that your little game was over, “I just wanted to know how to get you to beg for me. I needed ideas.”

Your nonchalance belied the wicked sensuality of your words and he chuckled, wrapping his wings around you both before mapping a scathing trail of kisses up your neck. The pillowy feel of his lips brushing your ear made you shudder, his teeth nibbling playfully at your earlobe as he hummed deep in his chest, “We have a lifetime together, there’s no rush. But since you want it so badly, shall I show you how well I can beg for you?”

Azriel’s offer sent an exhilarating shiver down your spine, and you so desperately wanted to give in, wanted to watch him come undone beneath you as he pleaded with you to touch him. But you shook your head despite yourself, competitive stubbornness the only barrier between you and what you wanted.

“I want to earn it, make you want me so bad you can’t help yourself.”

Your words were a breathy murmur that nearly had Azriel flipping you over right there on the too small lounge chair, but he resisted, prioritizing his assurances that you were the only thing he wanted every second of every day.

“That’s the thing, beloved,” he whispered in your ear, deep voice doused in honey reverberating in your bones as your desire flared so wildly it made you lightheaded. His hand, calloused palms rough against your skin, skated beneath the hem of your dress to grab hold of your hip and move you so you were straddling him.

This was the image you played over and over in your mind. The unbridled, unrestrained look of pleading in his eyes that blew his pupils wide, that had his hips shifting against yours in a display of just how much he wanted you.

“I always want you,” he continued. “I’d beg for you like I am dying of dehydration and you are my oasis. Just ask, and I’ll do exactly as you say.”

You were mesmerized, finger tracing the sharp contours of his jawline before ending at his chin, tilting his gaze up with the same practiced dominance you’d seen him slip into countless times before. You savored the way he shuddered at your touch, pretty lips parting as his chest heaved.

The corner of your mouth quirked, your breath a ghost over his lips, “Show me, then.”

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

FYI artists and writers: some info regarding tumblr's new "third-party sharing" (aka selling your content to OpenAI and Midjourney)

You may have already seen the post by @staff regarding third-party sharing and how to opt out. You may have also already seen various news articles discussing the matter.

But here's a little further clarity re some questions I had, and you may too. Caveat: Not all of this is on official tumblr pages, so it's possible things may change.

(1) "I heard they already have access to my data and it doesn't really matter if I opt out"

From the 404 article:

A new FAQ section we reviewed is titled “What happens when you opt out?” states “If you opt out from the start, we will block crawlers from accessing your content by adding your site on a disallowed list. If you change your mind later, we also plan to update any partners about people who newly opt-out and ask that their content be removed from past sources and future training.”

So please, go click that opt-out button.

(2) Some future user: "I've been away from tumblr for months, and I just heard about all this. I didn't opt out before, so does it make a difference anymore?"

Another internal document shows that, on February 23, an employee asked in a staff-only thread, “Do we have assurances that if a user opts out of their data being shared with third parties that our existing data partners will be notified of such a change and remove their data?” Andrew Spittle, Automattic’s head of AI replied: “We will notify existing partners on a regular basis about anyone who's opted out since the last time we provided a list. I want this to be an ongoing process where we regularly advocate for past content to be excluded based on current preferences. We will ask that content be deleted and removed from any future training runs. I believe partners will honor this based on our conversations with them to this point. I don't think they gain much overall by retaining it.”

It should make a difference! Go click that button.

(3) "I opted out, but my art posts have been reblogged by so many people, and I don't know if they all opted out. What does that mean for my stuff?"

This answer is actually on the support page for the toggle:

This option will prevent your blog's content, even when reblogged, from being shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models.

And some further clarification by the COO and a product manager:

zingring: A couple people from work have reached out to let me know that yes, it applies to reblogs of "don't scrape" content. If you opt out, your content is opted out, even in reblog form. cyle: yep, for reblogs, we're taking it so far as "if anybody in the reblog trail has opted out, all of the content in that reblog will be opted out", when a reblog could be scraped/shared.

So not only your reblogged posts, but anyone who contributed in a reblog (such as posts where someone has been inspired to draw fanart of the OP) will presumably be protected by your opt-out. (A good reason to opt out even if you yourself are not a creator.)

Furthermore, if you the OP were offline and didn't know about the opt-out, if someone contributed to a reblog and they are opted out, then your original work is also protected. (Which makes it very tempting to contribute "scrapeable content" now whenever I reblog from an abandoned/disused blog...)

(4) "What about deleted blogs? They can't opt out!"

I was told by someone (not official) that he read "deleted blogs are all opted-out by default". However, he didn't recall the source, and I can't find it, so I can't guarantee that info. If I get more details - like if/when tumblr puts up that FAQ as reported in the 404 article - I will add it here as soon as I can.

Edit, tumblr has updated their help page for the option to opt-out of third-party sharing! It now states:

The content which will not be shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models, includes: • Posts and reblogs of posts from blogs who have enabled the "Prevent third-party sharing" option. • Posts and reblogs of posts from deleted blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from password-protected blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from explicit blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from suspended/deactivated blogs. • Private posts. • Drafts. • Messages. • Asks and submissions which have not been publicly posted. • Post+ subscriber-only posts. • Explicit posts.

So no need to worry about your old deleted blogs that still have reblogs floating around. *\o/*

But for your existing blogs, please use the opt out option. And a reminder of how to opt out, under the cut:

The opt-out toggle is in Blog Settings, and please note you need to do it for each one of your blogs / sideblogs.

On dashboard, the toggle is at https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/blogname [replace "blogname" as applicable] down by Visibility:

For mobile, you need the most recent update of the app. (Android version 33.4.1.100, iOs version 33.4.) Then go to your blog tab (the little person icon), and then the gear icon for Settings, then click Visibility.

Again, if you have a sideblog, go back to the blog tab, switch to it, and go to settings again. Repeat as necessary.

If you do not have access to the newest version of the app for whatever reason, you can also log into tumblr in your mobile browser. Same URL as per desktop above, same location.

Note you do not need to change settings in both desktop and the app, just one is fine.

I hope this helps!

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 1

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user's post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a 'info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts' collection rather than a 'regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal' post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

as this post hit a kind of character limit, there will probably be at least 1 more post. :)

Character Creation

CC is vast [source] and immensely detailed [source]

We will enter CC straight after Varric's opening narration [source]

You are given 5 categories to work your way through in CC: Lineage, Appearance, Class, Faction, Playstyle. Each of these has a range of subcategories within them. There are 8 subcategories within the "head" subcategory" in "Appearance" alone [source]

Lineage dictates things like race (i.e. human, elf, dwarf, qunari) and backstory [source]

Backstories include things like factions. Factions offer 3 distinct buffs each [source]

There are dozens and dozens of hairstyles [source]

There are separate options for binary and non-binary pronouns and gender [source]

"BioWare's work behind the scenes, meanwhile, goes as deep as not only skin tones but skin undertones, melanin levels, and the way skin reacts differently to light" [source]

CC has a range of lighting options within it so that you can check how the character looks in them [source]

There are a range of full-body customization options such as a triangular slider between body types and individual settings down to everything from shoulder width to glute volume [source]. There are "all the sliders [we] could possibly want". The body morpher option allows us to choose different body sizes [source]

All body options are non-gendered [source]

They/them pronouns are an option [source]

Rook can be played as non-binary [source]

Individual strands of hair were rendered separately and react remarkably to in-game physics [source]

Special, focused attention was paid to ensuring that hairstyles "come across as well-representative, that everyone can see hairstyles that feel authentic to them, even the way they render" [source]

The game uses strand hair technology borrowed in part from the EA Sports games. The hair is "fully-controlled by physics," so it "looks even better in motion than it does here in a standstill" [source]

The ability to import our choices from previous games is fully integrated into CC. This will take the form of tarot cards - "you can go into your past adventures" and this mechanic tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make [source]

In CC we will also be able to customize/remake our Inquisitor [source]

A core tenet of the game is "be who you want to be" [source]

There are presets for all 4 of the game's races (human, elf, dwarf, qunari), in case detailed CCs overwhelm you [source]

Story

The story is set 9 years since Inquisition [source]

The Inquisitor will appear [source]

Other characters refer to the PC as Rook [source]. This article says they are "the Rook" [source]

The ability to import our choices from previous games is fully integrated into CC. This will take the form of tarot cards - "you can go into your past adventures" and this mechanic tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make [source]

The prologue is quite lengthy. A narrated intro from Varric lays the groundwork with some lore and explains about Solas [source]. In this Varric-narrated opening section, the dwarf recaps the events of previous games and explains the motivations of Solas [source] (Fel note/speculation: this sounds like this cinematic that we saw on DA Day 2023)

What happens first off is that Rook, who is working with Varric, is interrogating a bartender about the whereabouts of a contact in Minrathous who can help them stop Solas. The bartender does not play nice and we are presented with our first choice: talk the bartender down or intimidate them aggressively [source]

The first hour of the game is "a luxurious nighttime romp through a crumbling city under a mix of twinkling starlight and lavish midnight blue" (Minrathous) [source]. The game begins with a tavern brawl (depending on dialogue options) and a stroll through Minrathous in search of Neve Gallus, who has a lead on Solas [source]. Minrathous then comes under attack [source] by demons [source] (Fel note/speculation: it sounds like the demo the press played is what we saw in the Gameplay Reveal). Off in the distance is a vibrant, colorful storm where Solas is performing his ritual. [source] Eventually we come upon Harding. [source] and Neve. Rook and co enter a crumbling castle, where ancient elf secrets pop up, "seemingly just for the lore nerds". [source] Then we teleport to Arlathan Forest, have a mini boss fight with a Pride Demon, and there is the climactic confrontation with Solas. After a closing sequence, at this point it is the end of the game's opening mission. [source] (Fel note/speculation: So the Gameplay Reveal showed the game's opening mission)

The action in the story's opening parts starts off quite quick from the sounds of things: the devs wanted to get the player right in to the story. because, “Especially with an RPG where they can be quite lore-heavy, a lot of exposition at the front and remembering proper nouns, it can be very overwhelming.” [source]

BioWare wanted to make the beginning of Dragon Age: The Veilguard feel like the finale of one of their other games [source]

Rook's Faction will be referenced in dialogue [source]

Minrathous is beautiful, with giant statues, floating palaces, orange lantern glow and magical runes which glow green neon. These act "like electricity" as occasional signs above pubs and stores [source]

The story has a lot of darkness tonally. These dark parts of the game contain the biggest spoilers [source]. However, the team really wanted to build in contrast between the dark and light moments in the game, as if everything is dark, nothing really feels dark [source]

Our hub (like the Normandy in ME or Skyhold in DA:I) is a place called The Lighthouse [source] (Fel note/speculation: I guess this screenshot shows the crew in The Lighthouse? ^^)

Each companion has a very complex backstory, their own problems, and deep motivations. These play out through well-fleshed out character arcs and missions that are unique to them but which are ultimately tied into the larger story [source]

We will make consequential decisions for each character, sometimes affecting who they are in heart-wrenching ways and other times joyously [source]

Decisions from previous DA games will be able to be carried over, it will just work a bit differently this time [source]. The game will not read our previous saves. For stuff pertaining to previous games/choices, players will not have to link their accounts [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Varric is a major character [source]

Every companion is romanceable [source]

BioWare tried to make each character's friendship just as meaningful, regardless of romance [source]

If you don't romance a character, they may end up romancing each other [source]

There will be some great cameos [source]. Some previous characters are woven into the game [source]

Companion sidequests/optional content relating to companions is highly curated when it involves their motivations and experiences [source]

We could permanently lose some companions depending on our choices [source]

Our choices can influence if characters get injured and what they think about us [source]

The bonds Rook forges with companions determine how party members grow and what abilities become available [source]

Each companion has a very complex backstory, their own problems, and deep motivations. These play out through well-fleshed out character arcs and missions that are unique to them but which are ultimately tied into the larger story [source]

We will make consequential decisions for each character, sometimes affecting who they are in heart-wrenching ways and other times joyously [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Each class (warrior, rogue, mage) has 3 specializations. The ones for Rogue are duelist, saboteur and Veil ranger [source]. (Fel note/speculation: Veil ranger reminds me of Bellara. Maybe this is her 'spec' too?)

Duelist gameplay involves a sharp combination of dashes, parries, leaps, rapid slashes and combos [source]

Faction-related buffs include being able to hold an extra potion or do extra damage against certain enemies [source]

Individual strands of hair were rendered separately and react remarkably to in-game physics [source]

Playstyle settings include custom, distinct difficulty settings for options as granular as parry windows, meaning "players who might fancy that playstyle but typically struggle with the finer points of combat can give it a go" [source]

Combat mechanics is a mix of real-time action and pause and play. Pausing brings up a radial menu split into 3 sections: companions to the left and right, Rook's skills at the bottom, and a targeting system at the top which helps get in focus on certain enemies. [source]. In the pause system you can queue up your whole party's attacks [source]

Tapping or holding the shoulder button pauses the game, allowing us to stop the action and issue orders to companions [source]

There is a system of specific enemy resistances and weaknesses [source]. Weaknesses and resistances plays a big role in combat and abilities are designed to exploit these accordingly [source]. An example is that "one character might be able to plant a weakening debuff on an enemy, and another enemy might be able to detonate them" [source]

There is a vast skill tree of unlockable options [source]

You can set up specific companions with certain kits, e.g. to tackle specific enemy types, to being more of a support, or as flexible all-rounders [source]

Healing magic returns [source]

Abilities can change together with elaborate results, e.g. one companion using a gravity well attack that sucked enemies together, another using a slowing move to keep them in place, and Rook using a big AOE to catch them all at once [source]

A shortcut system lets you map a few abilities to a smaller pinned menu at the bottom of the screen [source]

There are class-specific resource systems. For example, Rogue has "momentum", which builds up as Rook lands consecutive hits [source]

Each class will always have a ranged option [source]

Rogue Rook can do a sort of 'hip fire' option with a bow, letting you pop off arrows from the waist [source]

Warriors can throw their shield at enemies, and can build an entire playstyle around that using the skill tree [source]

There is light platforming gameplay [source]

The game runs on the latest iteration of the Frostbite engine [source]

The game targets 60 fps

On consoles it will feature performance and quality modes so we can choose our preferred visual fidelity [source]

The game is mission based [source]. Some levels that we go to do open up, some with more exploration than others. "Alternate branching paths, mysteries, secrets, optional content you're going to find and solve." [source]

Everything is hand-touched, hand-crafted and highly curated [source]

Some sidequests and optional content is highly curated, especially when it involves the motivations and experiences of the companions. In others we may be investigating for example a missing family, with an entire open bog environment to search for clues and a way to solve the disappearance [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc continued, after the above bullet list hit a character limit

There is sophisticated animation cancelling and branching. Gameplay is action-like, and the design centers around dodging, countering, and using risk-reward charge attacks designed to break enemy armor layers [source]

The dialogue wheel returns [source]. It gives truncated summaries of the dialogue options rather than the full line that the character is going to say [source]

The bonds Rook forges with companions determine how party members grow and what abilities become available [source]

For stuff pertaining to previous games/choices, players will not have to link their accounts [source]

We can play the game fully offline [source]

There are no microtransactions [source]

The game itself is not as cell-shaded in look as the first trailer looked [source]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[under-lore]

What could Sans find out about Flowey ?

By finishing a neutral route over and over again multiple times, Flowey has some unique dialogues in which he mentions various trivia or shares his thoughts on some of the other characters.

One such character is Sans, who Flowey notably gives us a warning about.

However, the way he words that warning feels a little intriguing :

While Sans is generally a very perceptive character who is often capable of making pretty good guesses from limited information, Flowey makes it rather obvious that he is speaking from experience rather than simply making a general comment about Sans' observation skills.

But a question that isn't brought up very often is, what was it exactly that Sans would frequently "find out" about Flowey to warrant this warning ? And how ?

While the question may seem unanswerable at first due to Flowey not giving us any specifics whatsoever, there are a few details scattered throughout the game which may allow us to deduce our way towards what was most likely the intended answer.

First, we know what solution Flowey ended up settling with in order to deal with whatever that issue was : Simply avoiding Sans.

In any given timeline, Flowey took the habit of avoiding to be seen by or around Sans at any point, unless he specifically had something in mind that required him to do so. (such as in the pacifist ending) As a general rule of thumb, he would avoid Sans altogether as much as possible.

However, even with that effort on Flowey's side, a quick mention of a talking flower from Papyrus is already enough to seemingly get Sans at least a little suspicious that something may be up with that.

This is our second clue : The fact that it took Sans so little information for him to get suspicious of what Papyrus told him about a flower.

Our last clue is the few words we hear from Sans after he sees and hears Flowey at the end of the pacifist route :

In order to find out what to make of those clues, we need to introduce a fourth element : Sans' scientific background.

Luckily, none of the more complicated or speculative nuances of that side of his character are required here, all that we need is to highlight his somewhat-hidden friendship with Alphys.

She knows him well enough to call his jokes in advance :

Or here, the game more obviously points out that these two seem surprisingly friendly.

Sans tries to play it off, but it is clear they know a lot more about each other than seems at first glance.

But how much exactly ?

Well...

To go back to our main point, if one were to call Papyrus' phone in front of Alphys' lab, the conversation between the skeletons brothers would eventually deviate towards the question of wether or not Alphys is hiding dogs inside of her lab.

To which Sans answers, winking :

If it had just been this one joke, it may have been a coincidence, but the game doubles down on this exact same implication if you call Papyrus from within the lab as well, showing that this connection between Sans and Endogeny was absolutely intentional :

While the determination experiments were sorely Alphys' entreprise, it appears that Sans was at least made aware of the way they ended up playing out.

We cannot affirm with certainty how much detail exactly Sans has regarding the experiments, but if he is aware for the dogs and possibly even involved in dealing with them (as he had the dog food bag in his room), then he most definitely would also know about the vessel too. It was the main goal, after all.

This vessel had a few particularities.

First, it was a golden flower, the flower from the outside world, chosen for symbolic reasons.

But second, that specific golden flower was chosen because it was different from the rest.

It was at the center of the garden, it had grown before all the others, those were the ones mentioned by Alphys in her entries. But there was one more specificity which she omitted to bring up :

Golden flowers in Undertale are a species of flowers which has 5 petals.

But our "vessel" had a mutation, resulting in an extra 6th petal.

A design choice in part, perhaps, but one that takes a very real in-world importance within this context.

Adding to this that, from the view of the current timeline iteration, the vessel seems to have suddenly vanished one day and...

Since it is likely for Sans to have been aware of all of this, now, it makes a lot of sense that the mere idea of a new mysterious talking flower that says strange things showing up out of nowhere would immediately put him on high alert. A potential connection with the missing vessel is easy to make.

Actually, now that we have this context, even Alphys seems to make the same connection as well after hearing Papyus mentioning a talking flower just before Flowey arrives.

But most of all, it now feels incredibly clear why Flowey needs to avoid being seen by Sans so much.

His entire appearance, and particularly his obvious extra 6th petal, are all dead giveaways of his origins.

Could Sans, who is skilled enough at analysing faces to tell the difference between the face of someone that has died 9 or 10 times in a row, really miss out on such blaring evidence ?

Of course not.

Flowey might as well have written "i am the vessel" on his face with a marker as far as Sans is concerned.

Chances are that merely seeing Flowey even once would be all it takes for Sans to be practically certain that Flowey must be the former vessel.

Not only that, but given that those experiments were all about determination, the so called "resolve to change fate", Flowey would also immediately be considered extremely likely to be the anomaly, too.

This is what we see in this scene :

Not only does Sans get to see Flowey here, but the speech that Flowey makes during this scene also provides him with definitive evidence that Flowey really was the "anomaly" he had been worried about, as his psychological profile matches extremely well with the one Sans shows us to have built for the anomaly in a genocide route. But, it also shows him that Flowey has, for now at least, lost his anomalous time powers to Frisk, and is thus struggling to keep them in his "game".

This suggests that for now, Frisk actually still has the advantage, and that despite all those crazy speeches, without his reset powers, that weirdo has got nothing on them.

But this is all later on in the story.

During Flowey's earlier RESETs, being seen by Sans, even once, quickly becomes a major pain for Flowey in every timeline iteration in which it happens.

At best, he might get "pranked accross time and space" a number of times. At worst, Flowey might have no choice but to reset and start all over again on whatever he was aiming to do.

Except this time around, without letting the smiley trashbag learn ANYTHING about him.

[senseandaccountability]

"I'm me again"

Yes well this is me getting a little sappy - again - about the spirits/demon thing as a metaphor for the human experience, must be Friday. 

(Yes, this is about Solas.)

Last night my Ingellvar was tending to the graves with Emmrich and she said “demons” and immediately corrected herself, because of course she meant spirits but people outside Nevarra so easily call them demons and Emmrich, one of the kindest and most insightful people in the entire DA verse, would of course never do that. Because he sees them all as spirits. Some of them may be twisted, embittered, furious and cruel but to him they are still, at heart, the same being as their more positive virtues. You are always you, as Solas tells Cole. 

Which is also what Solas argues for all of DAI.

Which is also what Solas personal quest actively shows us in DAI.

His friend, broken and twisted by the mages' bindings, dies a spirit of Wisdom, thanking him and telling him not to be sad. “I’m me again.”

Which is also a very strong theme in Solas entire arc. 

But it’s really not just Solas, or the elves. The eternal struggle of spirits is a reflection of the human soul and what it means to be human. What parts of you does the world let you cultivate, what parts are hidden and twisted in the dark, what virtues would you be remembered for if you died tomorrow? What sort of person have you become? What person could you be? DA is crammed with these themes.

Since the spirit reveal/confirmation, I’ve seen a lot of very detailed and very cool discussions about the specifics of spirit virtues and demon characteristics and that’s some good shit right there, but you can also be lazy like me and very much just read it as various aspects of human nature interacting with each other. We’re all so many things over our lifetime, to different people, in different contexts. We all carry such endless capacity for goodness and gentleness and we’re all so very capable of hurting each other.

In the codex entries we see Solas try over and over and over again to appeal to the better nature of the Evanuris. He is described as brilliant and wise, he is pulled out of the Fade specifically for his wisdom and he tries to get them to reflect that, to listen to his concerns, to use their powers differently. Why don’t you make creatures that can protect the People, he asks Ghilan’nain. Why do you need to push your power further, he asks Elgar’nan, the people are already submitting to your rule, why must you shackle them? War may have twisted him up already but there’s nothing he says that isn’t extremely valid and wise about the Evanuris’ approach to ruling.

But as we learn from the Spirit of Command in Crestwood in DAI, wisdom is considered a soft virtue in a world of war and hierarchy and his reasoning falls flat or gets interpreted as fear or insubordination. Unheard and undervalued, his wisdom grows sour and prideful. He isn’t wrong, he knows he isn't, and he will show them. You are not gods, I will make you see that you are not gods. I will humble you until you understand that I am right. 

This is a profoundly human experience.

The ancient elven empire ultimately falls to its own greed and hierarchies and lack of boundaries - all of which Solas pointed out, all of which he and his rebels opposed. But the Evanuris didn’t listen, they were caught in a power scheme where only individual power matters and everyone else becomes pawns. How ironic then that their empire falls to its own foolish pride and boundless cruelty against the Titans, the first children of the earth. They hurt themselves by hurting them. They wound the fabric that binds them all together. 

Solas as a character is an open, ongoing conflict between "spirit" and "demon" aspects, between light and dark, between identifying as a solitary creature or part of the whole. It’s never more visible than during the final act of DAV where he is at once Solas, standing with the Shadow Dragons against the blight. And also Fen’Harel, scheming to get there in the first place, treating people in his way like dehumanized pawns to reach his final destination, a goal that can be argued to be entirely tainted with pride at this point, a way to soothe his conscience and need to be right more than it’s a way to save the world. And he’s the Dread Wolf, physically embodying the struggle against the corrupt powers since he, unlike the Evanuris, doesn’t believe in binding creatures to fight his battles. It’s significant that while he fights alone, he cannot do it without help from Rook. Elgar’nan directs all of the blight at the Dread Wolf and it takes a sacrifice from the team to free him from its grasp. It’s a battle orchestrated by a god. 

And Solas, powerful as he may be, is not a god. 

That is why it’s so lovely to me that the ending isn’t just a matter between Solas and his conscience or between Solas and Rook or Solas and Lavellan. Because we are not single entities. We are not islands. That’s why we need each other, because we respond to each other, we affect each other, we abuse and love each other and we cannot really understand in which ways until we connect. We use each other to remind us of who we are, or who we could be. Every Benevolence needs a Wisdom, every Command needs a Compassion, every one of us needs someone else in some way, shape or form. We are not meant to be solitary. We all share Solas' deepest fear of dying alone. We all share Solas’ ongoing conflict with the better and worse parts of our nature. We all reflect each other. The ending brings in the past, the present and the person that knows Solas not as a god but as a person.

We are shattered fragments of a greater whole and it was, as Morrigan points out, Solas’s love for and loyalty to his people that set him on this course long ago. And he broke the world. He broke his people. He couldn’t save them, all the horrible things that he has done and he still couldn’t save them. Ultimately and emotionally to him, this isn’t about wisdom or pride or good or evil or any such dichotomy, this is about grief and regret and broken humanity.

That is why it’s so powerful to me that a romanced or friendly Lavellan is so kind to him in DAV. They approach him carefully, they kneel down beside him to make a connection, they are understanding and compassionate and it may not be what he deserves on some grand justice scale of things, but it is without question what he needs. Pride and regret and grief need compassion, hope and benevolence much more than it needs to be proven wrong or challenged, kindness breaks the cycle.

They reach out to him not the way one would reach out to a god, but to a person. Because that’s what Solas needs to be reminded of - his humanity. That’s what their love and friendship has always reminded him of, that's what the Inquisition taught him - that the world is worth caring about because broken as it may be, it is also full of people. 

And people matter. They might not matter to the Dread Wolf, but they have always mattered to Solas.

That's what the good ending represents.

"I'm me again." 

[faeriichaii]

hii!!

i was wondering if you could write kili x gn!reader where the reader wants to braid kili’s hair and they have no idea what that means to dwarves and kili lets them braid his hair. later the other dwarves notice and tease kili about it cause he’s clearly in love with the reader.

thank you sm<33

Braiding Lessons ~ Kili x Reader

A/N: Omg Kili request!!! I love him and I am such a sucker for this plot!! so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do omg!! Also funfact but I almost deleted everything that I wrote during my roadtrip cause I was so unsatisfied with it ;-; Which is probably why it took me so long to actually publish it yikes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.0k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (Thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋAmrâlimé ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You always knew dwarves had various beautiful braids, but how come Kili doesn't? So one night you decide to change that and help him out.

You tilted your head to the side, as you let your eyes skim over the various dwarves, whom you were accompanying on their journey. Being the only human, surrounded by one hobbit and several dwarves definitely let you notice a few differences about their culture to your own. For example, they could eat almost double their size almost as if they have two stomachs. They also tend to not care much about their appearance. Except of course their beards and hair in general. They take care of it almost as if their life depended on it. One detail that definitely stood out to you were the different braids that decorated each of them. You remember once staring at Fili, while he undid his small beard braids just to redo them.

“How come dwarves always have braids in their hair?” You once asked him. He smiled at you and continued weaving his fingers through his hair. “Braids are very important to us dwarves. Which is why we rarely let others touch our hair.”

Ever since that day you have noticed the intriguing designs and ways each of the dwarves intertwined their strands. Except for one. Kili was the only dwarf who seemed to be lacking any kind of braid and you have been wondering why that is. You also once asked Fili about it but he wouldn’t answer you. Maybe he doesn’t know how to braid? And he is too embarrassed to ask others for help? Observing Kili, who was laughing along his brother to some jokes, you quickly let that thought settle in your mind. He doesn’t know how to braid and you were determined to change that.

So later that afternoon you bribed Fili to change his night shift with yours (which cost you a few of your travel snacks), in order to spend some time with Kili. You wanted to teach him how to braid and due to the fact that it is quite a sensitive topic to dwarves you wanted to make sure that nobody else would notice the two of you. So as soon as the sun set and the snores of your companions filled your ears, you made your way to Kili. He was perched upon a log which was behind the campfire that slowly burned down. His hands were carefully crafting something delicate, which you didn’t quite see in the dark. “What are you working on?” You asked him, taking a seat beside him. His gaze swerved from the item between his fingers to you. A smile graced his lips.

“It’s a surprise.” He quickly put the item into a small pouch that was secured to his pants. “I thought Fili was supposed to be my night-watch-partner?” “He was but I wanted to switch with him.” A smirk formed on his lips, before he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case I will make sure that this will be the best night of your life.” Blushing at the double meaning behind his words, you tried to separate your body from his. Of course, not because you didn’t enjoy him being so close to you, but because you were in desperate need of some cold air to cool you down and sort through your thoughts.

“I just wanted to ask you if I could braid your hair.” A dumbfounded expression accompanied by a gentle blush fell over his face. “I know you probably were just embarrassed to ask any of the others for help when it comes to braiding your hair and knowing that you don’t know how to I just-“ His laugh interrupted your rambling. “You think I can’t braid my hair?” You nod. “(Y/N), that is one thing we dwarves get born with. No dwarf in this world knows how not to braid hair.” “But why do you never braid yours? Fili told me they were incredibly sacred and important in your culture.” A blush dusted his cheeks as he stared into the campfire.

“Simple. Nobody has asked to braid my hair before.” Your hand moved to his and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “But I just asked to braid your hair. So please, let me take care of you.” He smiled at you and moved one leg over the log so his whole body was facing yours. You let your fingers comb through his soft hair a few times, before taking a strand and dividing it into three sections. Weaving your fingers through the wafts, you made sure to be gentle while also ensuring that there won’t be any bumps or strands sticking out of your small braid. After you have reached the end of his hair, you took out one of your slim leather straps and tied it at the end. Your gaze wandered from the braid to Kilis eyes and you realized how close the two of you have been this whole time. “Thank you Amrâlimé. You have no idea how much this means to me.” You let your gaze wander to your hands in your lap while a shy smile graced your face. “Of course. I am glad you like it.” Kili put his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. A bright smile framed his face. “Now it is your turn.”

The next morning the company as well as you quickly packed up their belongings to get back on their journey. While talking with Balin about some of the dwarvens history, you suddenly heard a gasp from behind you. “You never told me about this Kili!” Fili held up a braid between them both. “When did this happen?” “Last night while you-“ “What is going on back there?” Thorin asked, slowly approaching the princes. “Kili finally got his braid! Probably by someone he seems enamoured with.” Fili teases, while letting go of his brother’s hair. A blush dusted Kilis cheeks, as well as your own as the words settled in.

“Was about time they tied the knot.” Dwalin let out a boisterous laugh at Balins words. Tilting your head to the side, you moved your attention to Kili. “What does he mean by that?” “(Y/N) doesn’t even know? You didn’t even explain it?” Fili asked, flabbergasted at the newfound information. “I hadn’t had the time yet.” Kili turned towards you and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. “But I will explain it to you when the time is right.” His radiant smile was enough reassurance for you. You will wait, until he is ready to explain the meaning behind the dwarvish braiding custom.

[lady-ashfade]

Mates By Fate

Various Hybrid!Characters x Human!Fem!Reader.

Plot: The adoption center is filled with many different hybrids from all sorts. But when one gets a whiff of your scent that they can’t help but get excited to see you.

Characters: Rabbit!Izuku midoriya, Wolf!Katsuki Bakugo, Dog!Eijiro Kirishima, Cat!Shoto Todoroki

Warnings: quick adoption, licking, love at first sight, mention of dark past, not much.

Rabbit! Izuku Midoriya

The building was filled with all types of noises, from barks to meows, even some growls. Some hybrids were out playing and doing their own things, some playing in groups outside or maybe they enjoyed their own company. Izuku was watching a movie that had come on just in time for his break. All hybrids get a break from the others to focus on themselves if needed, and he decided to watch his favorite movie. Super Hybrid: All might. Oh, how he adored the movie and the man it was about. His room filled with decorations of Allmight himself, posters on every wall.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off the screen when the scene came on. Allmight fighting a bad guy, his tail smacking him around from place to place. It was like watching it for the first time, he was on the edge of his seat cheering at the screen for his hero. Not much could get his attention away from this movie, so when a scent came into his nose it peaked his interest. What was that smell? So sweet, soft yet bold, how could something smell so perfect? His flappy ears stood up and his attention drew to the hallway where his door was cracked open. Grabbing the remote be paused the movie and walked to the door.

He poked his head out slowly to see what was going on and if he could find the source of the smell. Then he saw the owner of the adoption center in the middle of the hallway, then a woman standing next to her about three doors down. A hybrid with droopy ears likes his but brown, the hybrid rubbed her head against the new woman’s hand as she smiled. When he saw you, he felt the world crash onto him with a kick to the chest.

Mate.

The words rang through his head and made his body tense up at the thought of having you in his life. But, he couldn’t have a mate? And not someone as pretty as you? He cheeks heated up while staring at you with wide eyes frozen in the doorway to his room. He could hear your conversation but didn’t truly listen, the words sounding like muffles to him. But a few seconds later your head turned when the owner said something and you looked right at him.

He yelps and slips back into his room quickly from being caught and your attention. His heart raced as fast as it could go as he panicked over every detail. Did you really see him? Was he imagining you here? What if this was a dream and he’d wake up mateless again? What if you don’t want him as a mate anyway? So many questions ran through his speedy head and made him panic.

“Izuku,” the old woman’s sweet voice called him out of his thoughts as she walked into the open room. “We have a visitor, like to meet them?” Your frame shuffled into the room and waved softly, the smile on your lips look like heaven. All he could do is stare and mumble nervously with words you couldn’t understand.

“He’s shy, but he’s a good hybrid to have around.” You nodded and reached into your pocket and his attention calmed down at the other scent he loved. Treats. A brown little heart shaped treat rest in your hands and pushed it towards him. “Hello, Izuku. My names Y/n.” The name engraved itself into his brain. The excitement finally washed over him and shot throughout his body, making him so happy that his leg started to tap and take the treat into his mouth.

He was so happy as he chew and you watched his nose crinkle with each bite, his happy feet bouncing. You giggled at the sight, he was your favorite by far. “I’ll let you have some time with him, seeing as he’s your perfect match. I shall be just outside with the other hybrids, call if you need anything.” She bowed and walked out the room.

You look at izuku and a nervous smile spread your face as he inched closer, no threatening gestures but with a curious look. His noses sniffed around your hand and up your wrists, he looked so focused. Then he nudged his faces across it like he was petting himself and your heart exploded. He looked so happy and relaxed with your touch.

“Mate.” He muttered and you froze up. Did he say that or was it a mistake…Mate? That’s interesting but you can’t help but feel like it was right. “Tell me, do you want me to take you home?” He jumped up and hugged your leg and you almost fell. Laughing you reach down to pet this hair.

He was interesting, he couldn’t get himself off of you. But he was perfectly sweet.

Wolf! Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki is wasn’t one for social interaction, especially with new people he had just meet. Whenever someone came to look at the hybrids he wouldn’t let them get near and just walk off or give them attitude. He was adopted once before and it was the worst time of his life, humans were cruel and he knew damn well they couldn’t put up with him. So he put off the idea that he would find someone nice enough.

Kats didn’t get along with the other hybrids, only a selected group he allowed near him. If he wasn’t hanging around them then he was outside in the shade, or playing with a chew toy that need to be replaced each day. He loved to be outside a few hours because he had a lot of energy he couldn’t release inside. Today he decided to take a break and lay on the ground to take a quick nap, the shade and sun making him tired. Then, his nose picked up a scent. Shooting his head up from his resting place his head looked around for the scent he was smelling.

This wasn’t food, it wasn’t like anything he’s ever smelled before. It was the perfect smell for him. He craved to get near the source. So he stood up and looked around, his tail wagging behind him. Big and thick with blonde and white with brown tips like his ears. “Shit.” He smelled it out and followed trail. A beautiful laugh caught his ears and he looked up to see a woman smiling with the owner, a hybrid getting their head pat. Her. It was coming from her.

Mate. Claim. Mate.

She was his mate, his tail wagged harder but his head gave him trouble. He didn’t need a mate, and not a shitty human at that. What was she trying to do? He’s a alpha and not some pet she could keep in her house- But he wanted it. To be close to her at every second to keep he safe and sound. He groaned and fell close to the ground and behind the flowers, the garden being filled with big places with high planted flowers. It was easy for him to crawl closer without being caught, after all it was in his blood to hunt.

He got closer and watched for a second. “I’ll leave you to look around, I know of a few hybrids out here. A snake one, he’s usually in the trees and many others.” She smiles and took the cat hybrid inside, leaving you alone. Smiling to yourself and straighten your blouses then walk over to the flowers, smelling them. Bakugo wiggled his body and got ready to pounce on you, why? He just felt like it. But when you giggled and looked over at his direction he froze in shock and confusion.

“There’s a mirror wall behind you,” you look a seat on the bench beside you. “But don’t be discouraged, you would of had me.” The lighthearted tone in your voice made him heat up, and your smile with no anger in it. He rolled his eyes and stood up, inching closer to you with a glare, a low growl leaving his lips to imitate you with fear. You only smiled and pulled out a big threat, a bone shaped one.

“I apologize if I offended you, it was not my intention.” Standing up slowly you tossed the treat softly before him.  “But I hope you’ll take this treat as a apology, great wolf.” His ego built up at your praise and felt better. He took the treat and took a few bites. While he was focused on the treat you backed up to leave him alone, not wanted to anger him. Wolfs can be very territorial when it comes to it, so you wouldn’t egg him in. 

“I didn’t say go, damn human.” His tough voice caught you off guard. You turned around to see him soften his glare and look at the bench you once sat at. “Sit.” You smirked for a second and walked back to the bench and did as he said. He was adorable. You stuck out your hand for him to sniff and he hesitated, looking up at you like asking permission or to get a read on you. But you only flashed him a eye closing smile.

His noses poked your hand and sniffed all around to take in your scent in, and his body turned into mush. Your scent, he craved it. “Damn, of course it be a human.” He huffed and crossed his arms. You looked at him confused, “Hmm?” Kats rolled his eyes hard and pointed at you, “Mate.” He enjoyed how you looked at him in shock and flustered.

“Now, go get the paper work done so I can leave. I wouldn’t let anyone leave with you today wether you like it or not.” His tail stomped the ground as his teeth really showed to threaten the people he thought of. “Well? Go!” You giggled and rushed away from the shouting hybrid, a rough one.

He was demanding and didn’t care. He however, was loving on the way to your house so you didn’t mind.

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto is a hybrid that likes to take naps, his cat like nature is strong. The sunlight can make him fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place. He also loves to climb up on things to take a nice nap, mostly on a cat like tree they have for hybrids. He also has a scratching problem but not in a bad way, he just needs to stretch often. Those are the things he does in a day. Wake up, scratch, eat, Nap, scratch and then repeat. However he does hang out with some hybrids on occasion.

Today Shotos place of choice was in front of the art rooms door, so close to getting hit if someone opened the door fully. The hybrid didn’t notice this when he went to sleep or he would have scooted a bit further. You wanted to explore the place and decide to check the art room to see what’s it was like. When you opened the door you didn’t see the hybrid behind you, only a tail that curled and swung slowly. Stopping and not pushing the door any further you walked through the gap and poke your head around to see the hybrid laying there.

His hair mix toned, red and white. His tail thin but long, white fur all the way down. But his ears matched the hair on each side, he was gorgeous. You smile and push all the way in the room and close the door as quietly as you can, trying not to startle him. Kneeling down a few inches from him you start to call out softly for him to walk up. Clinking your tongue, “Little buddy, wake up please.” You repeated that line over and over. But he wasn’t little, only a small frame but you could see the muscles he had and how tall he was.

He slowly opened his eyes with a yawn, confused on what was going on. When he noticed you his demeanor changed slight. His face dropping and staring you, with almost a cold glare. Chuckling to not be afraid you step back, “Sorry, I just didn’t want you to get hurt. You were sleeping in front of the door.” You glanced at the door and showed him what you meant. But he didn’t stop staring at you with a unreadable expression.

Shoto was freaking out inside. Your scent drove him insane, one he wanted to run and nuzzle up to. He couldn’t look away from your pretty face or he would have. What was this? Had you have some sort of magic to bewitched him? Why was his body on fire? He had so many emotions and non of them made sense. Until his mouth started to water..

Mate.

The clicking sound echoed through his brain when he realized what you were to him. A mate. Fate was funny about bringing people together and he didn’t have to find you, you found him. “Hello?” You waved a hand in front of your face as he continued to be silent and frozen. He blinked finally and you felt relieved. “Call me shoto.” You hummed at the calming tone. “Y/n.” You reached out your hand with a smile. Of course he couldn’t hold himself back from taking it and sniffing you.

Your scent was so nice to smell, calming but made his blood pump. You had weird affects on his body. You watch him sniff you and it made you laugh as he kept hitting his nose against the center. He was booping his own nose. Then he did something unexpected and licked your hand softly. To give affection he kept doing it, small licks. Nothing more to the eyes. Only he did it to get his scent on you.

“Adopt me.” He look up at you blankly and you were taken aback by his boldness. “We just met, don’t you want to get a know me first?” You asked. Most hybrids take a week at least before getting comfortable with a owner, or at least a whole day. “I know all I need, you are my mate of course.” He nuzzled against your hand as his tail swayed around smoothly.

“Mates?” You questioned but couldn’t help but rub his cheek, he purred so loudly you could feel it. “Hmm, smell you. Us hybrids have mates, or some do and mine is you.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Now, I’m tired. Could you go get everything done so I can’t go back to napping?”

You took shoto home that night and he fell asleep on your nap. Followed you around the house with his head in your shoulders.

Eijiro Kirishima

Kiri likes to be with other hybrids and people, a social butterfly if you will. He always has a smile on his face to cheer and play with the others, the big brother of the estate. His dream is to one day have a forever home with a family that loves him but worries about being worthy. Despite always tell the others they’d get adopted or cheer them up, he felt the same way. But he puts it off and has fun instead, he’s very active. They had to build a new playground area just for him and hybrids like him who are rough but playful.

Kiri today was in the playroom all by himself and it saddens him, no one to play with. He’d have the rope in his mouth and swing it around almost like a weapon. Or jumping around from the bars to places, or his favorite. Catch. They had a device to throw the ball automatically and he loved it, almost as much as someone actually throwing him the ball. Kiri watched the ball get shot out and hit the table making it change direction to the door. To his surprise the door opened just as the ball rolled on the floor and stop between someone’s leg. His mind focused on the ball he chased after it.

His legs ran to catch the small object and only to be caught in another trance caused by a smell, a delicious smell. Stopping in his tracks he froze and looked up at the person at the door who now looked at the ball between her feet. A smile spread on her lips when she bent down to pick it up. The smell was coming from her. Was it a treat in her pocket? What flavor was it? That smell was heaven to his nose, like it was made just for him.

Mate.

Giggling you looked at the pup in front of you, a grip on the ball “Want me to throw it?” You wiggled it slightly. Thump thump. The sound of his huge fluffy tail hit the floor as he panted quietly. He was so excited. “Get it.” You threw it past him and made sure not to hit anything but far for him to have fun. He leaped up and chased after it, so fast and quick. It was cute to watch him bite the ball and chew down on it slightly then look back at you. He pranced back to you with his tail wagging, a pride filled aura as he puffed out his chest.

He dropped the ball at your feet and sat back on the floor, his tongue sticking out. “Awe, such a good boy.” You reached down to pet his head but gave him enough time to pull away if he’d like. But he didn’t so your hand patted the red hair, slightly touching the ears on his head. “My names Y/n.” Without a warning he jumps up and knocks you down, leaning onto of you and starts to lick across your face. His hands on your chest and tail making a breeze.

You laughed and tried to move but he didn’t let up on his actions. You smelled too good. You called him a good boy. A perfect mate for him. He leaned up and didn’t let his hands up from your stomach. “Eijiro Kirishima.” His smile was so wide you saw his teeth that looked perfectly white and sharp. Taking a breath you smile up at the hybrid you just met. “Nice to met you.” He jumped off you and waited for you to get up.

When you did you brushed off yourself and whipped your face off. Kiri stood up finally and you looked up at him, he was one of the biggest hybrids you have ever seen. Blushing at his height you giggled, he was just a huge puppy. “Are you here to adopt?” He asked, his ears and tail stopping and going down. You could tell he was sad and you wondered why.

“Yes, I am.” You see him look at the floor and a sad smile grew on his face. “They’d be luck to have you.” The heart in your chest shattered at his tone, so quick to dismiss himself. “Would you be willing to get adopted? I was looking for a dog hybrid…If you’re willing.” Kiri’s head shit up and his body started to wage and bounce. The sparkle in his eyes reappeared and his happiness coming back.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapping themselves around you and pulling you closer, his tongue licking your cheek. You patted his head, “I’ll take that as a yes.” You didn’t expect to meet the hybrid of your dreams on the first day of looking but here he was. “Mate, going home with my mate.” His words made you tense up. Mate? Does he think you’re his mate… Why doesn’t that not sound wrong?

“Okay, let’s go so I can go to the office.” He whined and hugged you closer. His head rested on your shoulder and he refused to let you go, he had a person for the first time. Too soon to let go. “You can come with him, but I need to walk.” He felt your chest vibrate with laughter and he huffed. His arms let your waist go but hooked on your arm instead.

You didn’t expect him to be so clingy and protective over you but that’s what he was. You’re now his home. But there’s no other pup for you.

[13uswntimagines]

The Royal Playbook (Alessia X Leah X Royal!R)

Summary: It wasn't often that you used your name or your titles, but to see your girlfriends, you would do just about anything. Even if it means going head-to-head with your new security. 

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but otherwise nothing. It's a fluff piece.

Your life was complicated. Well… that may have been putting it lightly. 

Everything in your life had been planned for you since well before you were born. You had a tutor, an etiquette instructor, and an equestrian coach from the moment you came screaming into the world. Along with a security detail and a personal team of butlers to help you navigate life. 

It was simple, you would be academically trained, coached in diplomacy (and swordsmanship as was customary on Braavos), and exposed to different cultures so that you could continue to lead your country like your father and his mother before him. You would marry a foreign diplomat, and make political bonds that would strengthen your little island nation’s place in Europe. 

Falling in love had never been a part of that plan. 

Neither had your absolute obsession with football. Specifically, your obsession with English football. 

But your parents had taken it in stride and were far more accepting than you had any right to believe they would be. They were supportive even after they found out you preferred the fairer sex, and they absolutely adored the women who had stolen your heart.

You happened to adore them too. 

Well, something stronger than adore. 

You would do anything for them. 

They made you willing to break all of the carefully constructed rules you had grown up with. They made you forget the weight of responsibility that had been balanced on your shoulders since your coronation date was set the day you turned 16. 

They treated you like Y/n instead of Her Majesty the heir to the throne. They made you feel normal. 

It killed you that you couldn’t be… open with your relationship. That having the world know would put them in the firing line. 

You sighed, leaning back into the leather seat as the SUV slowed, turning in front of the Emirates. The dark window tint blocked out the flashing lights, and the thousands of pounds of armor plating dulled the chanting from the throngs of people. The little flags on the cars in your motorcade told them all who was inside, even if they didn’t know which of the 4 cars you were in. 

You shifted, tugging at the hem of your jersey. “Do you think we’ll make it in time for warmups?”

The new material was still tight on your skin, so much different than the cotton dress shirts you normally wore, and the two little names above your favorite number felt unnaturally… weighted. 

They were in a way. As soon as a photographer caught a picture of them, your secret would be out. 

“I’ve sent a team ahead to clear your entrance and the box you’ll be staying in, so as long as we can get through this crowd we should make it,” Davis said, glancing up at you in the rearview mirror. “I know they’re your favorite part,”

You hummed, glancing back out of the darkened windows at the masses of people dressed in white and red. 

A part of you envied them. 

You would never be able to walk into a stadium through its entrance. You would never get to see the mural of the team that existed in the main hall of the Emirates. You would never get to sit in the supporters section, surrounded by the various chants. 

The other, larger part knew how much you despised being surrounded by people. How claustrophobic it made you feel, and how hard it made it for you to breathe.

But you still wondered if it would be different if those people weren’t carrying cameras and screaming for your attention. You wondered if watching your girlfriends do the things they loved would negate how incredibly uncomfortable you got when people were too close. 

“It just completes the whole experience,” You mumbled into the glass. 

Davis made a noise of agreement. “Yes, it does,”

He knew that one of the reasons you loved it so much was because it gave you time to not have to think. To just exist in a space where you weren’t the air to the throne. Where all that mattered was what was happening in front of you. 

You didn’t have to say it for him to know. 

He could read you like a book. He had experienced every day of your life with you. He acted more like a father than your own father did, and you trusted him implicitly. 

The car inched forward, past another gaggle of people holding their phones up to video the caravan.

“We might have to go with plan b if Her Majesty wishes to see the warmups,” Your driver said more to Davis than to you.“There’s an obstruction ahead,”

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together as the car crawled forward through the growing crowd. 

Your head of security made a gruff sound, already lifting his phone and speaking rapidly into the receiver. 

You barely paid attention to what he was saying. It didn’t really matter anyway. 

You knew he would explain when they had a plan, just like he had always done before. 

The car came to a stop, and men dressed in bright yellow jackets came pouring out of an entrance you hadn’t recognized, forming a human tunnel. 

Davis turned in his seat to face you. 

“We’re going to go in a different entrance. I’ll guide you, Gabriel and Tomas will flank us,” He explained. “It’s 16 steps to the door. Stadium security will make sure that they’re unobstructed,”

You hummed. “Will you cover my back?”

It wasn’t that you were ashamed to wear your Loves names. 

It actually made you incredibly proud and had a warmth blooming in your chest that was hard to explain. 

But you weren’t quite ready to share that with the world yet. 

You wanted to protect them from your world for as long as you could. To prevent the people who didn’t agree with your family’s policies from hurting them to get to you. 

“My jacket will block you,” Davis assured you, understanding glinting in his eyes. “We’re ready whenever you are,” 

You leaned back into the leather seat, glancing at the little walkway that had been created. Fans pressed against it, and you could imagine the wall of sound that would meet you. 

You flipped your sunglasses down over your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” 

“I’ll get out and open your door,” Your security chief said, reiterating the protocol you always followed when you had to exit your car in a crowd. 

You nodded, never looking away from the window. 

You took a deep breath when the car door opened, letting in the onslaught of screams and cheers. They only got louder when Davis opened your door and held his hand out to help you out of the car. 

He shielded you as soon as your feet were both on the ground, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, directly blocking the names on your back. 

You tucked your face into his chest, closing your eyes at the roar of squeals and cheers that met you. 

You never did like crowds. 

You felt Tomas take up your other side and counted down the steps in your head as they guided you through the crowd. You didn’t look up at the calls of your name, or the blinding flashes of light, or the jostling that your security tried to protect you from. 

This was routine. 

The press didn’t pay for photos when your face wasn’t clearly visible. 

You let out a long breath when the entrance doors closed solidly behind you. 

“It’s over little commander,” Your burly chief of security mumbled into your hair when you didn’t immediately begin to untangle yourself from him, running his hand up and down your back. 

You really didn’t like crowds. 

You sucked in another long breath before carefully pulling away from him. 

“Thank you,” You said, straightening your hair and jersey. Smiling just a bit at the name he had given you after an incident involving your country’s general and an assassin when you were five. 

“I don’t think anyone caught a photo of your jersey, your majesty. The Captain's jacket was covering the lettering,” Gabriel added, glancing out the glass doors. “Though I think it’ll be harder to hide if we leave with guests. We’ll also need extra security,” 

It made you sigh. 

Gabriel was not a bad person, but he was young, and far too serious all of the time. 

He hadn’t learned that you didn’t need to know all of the inner workings of their operation yet, or that you were the one who would dictate what you wanted. 

You hadn’t even decided if your girlfriends would be leaving with you yet, and when you did, Davis would work it out. 

He always figured it out. 

“We’ll cross that bridge later,” Davis said, glaring at the younger guard (they would pull the SUV on the fucking field if that’s what it took), before his eyes returned to you, softening. “First, I believe your attendant is waiting to scan your ticket,”

Your eyes lit up at the prospect, looking past your burly squad towards a very shy looking girl. 

“I can scan you in,” The girl's voice shook as she spoke, her eyes darting towards your guards before meeting yours again. “Your majesty,” 

You rolled your eyes at the title. 

You hated it as much now as you had when you first learned you would be your fathers successor. As much as when people started using when you were 16 and your coordination date was set for the day you turned 22. 

Davis passed you a paper ticket and nudged you forward. 

It was a superfluous detail that your girlfriends had teased you mercilessly about. 

No one used paper tickets anymore, they said. Everything was mobile, not that you had ever needed an actual ticket. 

You stepped towards the girl, holding out the ticket with a grin. 

She very gently took it, running it under the little scanner. You walked past her after it beeped. 

It was nice to get the full experience, even if it was a bit outdated. 

“We’ll take that back,” Davis said, as the girl turned to throw the scrap of paper away. 

He reached for the ticket, tucking it into his jacket for safe keeping. 

“To the box little commander?” He asked you directly, stepping past the girl. 

You shook your head, a smirk playing at your lips. “I think a little… exploration is in order first. Especially since we’ve never come into the stadium this way before,” 

“Lead the way then,” He matched your smirk, gesturing for you to head down the hallway. “The mural you’re obsessed with is to the left,” 

Your eyes brightened again and you looked down the hallway he had gestured to. 

You would definitely have to check it out before warmups started. 

******

Alessia and Leah were… distracted, even as they passed the ball back and forth. 

Warmups had barely started and they couldn’t help the way their eyes kept falling to the box now occupied by a tall, bald man in a well-tailored suit, his aviators reflecting the field back at them. 

They should have expected it. Tomas was always the first of your personal team to arrive to a location, but usually, you followed closely behind him. 

“The queen has arrived,” Millie chuckled, intercepting the ball Leah had passed towards  Alessia. 

“She’s not queen yet,” Alessia huffed.

“How could I forget? The coronation isn’t for 2 more months,” Millie said, waving her arm dramatically. 

Leah rolled her eyes. “3 more months, actually,”

“And Y/n isn’t exactly counting down the days,” Alessia added, stealing the ball back. “She doesn’t seem too keen on the title,”

“I’m not surprised,” Ella said, catching the ball when Alessia tried to pass it to Leah. “She got mobbed coming into the stadium,”

Leah’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought she was using the player entrance,” 

You had discussed the plan with them in detail during your nightly phone conversation, asking about the location of the locker rooms in relation to the entrance your security wanted you to use. 

They weren’t sure if you intended to surprise them before or after the match, but it didn’t really matter. 

“Apparently not,” Ella said, skirting around the forward's outstretched leg and passing it to Millie. “I saw the clip before we came out here. Looked like they formed a wall of security and then ushered her in the front gate,” 

Leah and Alessia shared a look. 

They knew how much you disliked being in a crowd. 

They could picture you tucked into your security chief’s chest like a small child, trying to hide yourself from the noise of the crowd. It was an image that had been splashed across front pages of newspapers more times than they could (or wanted) to count. It still never failed to break their hearts. 

“I never realized how big her security team was,” Ella mumbled, glancing up at the box again. “Like physically. They’re fucking mountains,” 

More of your team had joined Tomas, all wearing the same black suits and dark aviators, tall, and muscular.

They looked intimidating. Like they could take down any threat that would come at you. 

Neither Alessia nor Leah had any doubt that they would. 

Alessia shrugged. Frankly, they had both been very nervous too until you had actually introduced them to your security. They learned quickly to expect pranks from your security when they weren’t on duty, and that their protectiveness extended to them as well as you when they were. 

Considering all 12 members of your team had given them the shovel talk, they knew you were in very good hands. Hands that looked out for your mental health as well as your physical health. 

“Looks like she only brought half her team,” Leah hummed, counting the men in the suite, noting your missing head of security. He would certainly be wherever you were, and she found it slightly strange you weren’t in the box yet. 

You hated missing warmups. 

But then a group standing near the benches, behind Serina caught her eyes. 

There were 4 tall, burly men surrounded by stadium workers dressed in bright orange vests. 

“Maybe not,” Alessia mumbled, her gaze also falling to the growing crowd behind the benches. “She doesn’t usually try to come down to the field,”

“She’s never had to come through the front door before either,” Leah answered. 

Ella wiggled her eyebrows, shimming between them. “Maybe she wants to do something wild before she has the weight of a country on her back,” 

“She already has that,” Both blonde women said in unison, eyes snapping away from the sea of orange towards the midfielder. 

“She’s had that since her father put her in charge of their trade negotiations,” Alessia added. “And their UK commerce,”

Frankly, you had been taking more and more responsibility for years. Trying to gain the trust of your people so the transition of power was an easy one. A safe one. 

An uncontested one. 

“And she’s been doing a bang-up job,” Leah said, just as Davis appeared in the mix of security next to a blonde man she had never seen before. “She’s actually coming in the field,” 

“You mean we finally get to meet the Queen?” Millie said dramatically, standing on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of you, the ball forgotten at her feet. 

Alessia slapped her stomach. “You’ve met her before. You tried to get her drunk after our Euros win and convince her to fly the England flag on her father’s palace,”

“Details,” Millie rolled her eyes, shoving the striker. “How can she see through the mass of people though?”

“It’s a special formation,” Leah grumbled, pushing Millie, and stealing the ball they had all disregarded as she moved it forward she saw Davis shift and the flash of a pair of aviators. You were certainly on the field. “Designed so she can see out but no one can see her. They’re trying not to draw attention,” 

Ella snorted. “Well, they failed at that,”

It was true. 

The fans in the stands seemed to be clamoring over themselves to see why there was a substantial crowd near the benches. 

Leah and Alessia shared a look. 

They both knew how much you hated attention. It was why you usually stayed in your box and came in through back entrances. They joked you were like a ghost coming to their games, never seen or heard. 

But this. This was different. 

Before they could respond Geriant clapped his hands, “Alright ladies let’s do some through balls on goal. Lineup,”

Leah tapped him the ball and followed Alessia to the back of the line. 

There would be time later to figure out why you had come down in the field. 

Right now they had to focus on beating Australia, especially if they wanted a good game kiss from you after the game. 

You only kissed winners. 

******

You shifted awkwardly as you leaned against the cool, stone wall outside the locker rooms, playing with the identification lanyard around your neck. 

It wasn’t often that you used your… status to get into areas no fans could. That you finagled your way into the tunnel of the stadium after a game. 

You were much more prone to letting your security whisk you in and out so you weren’t seen and no one knew if you were actually there, but today, you had been feeling bold. 

Well, kind of. 

Davis had been the one to suggest that seeing warmups at field level might be fun if you were going to venture to see the mural. 

You had agreed. 

And he had been right. 

You had gotten to chat with Serina about tactics and formations while getting a close-up view of your girlfriends in action, even if it was just warmups. 

You had gone back up to your fancy box for the game, but couldn’t resist Serina’s invitation to wait for the team in the tunnel after. 

That’s how you ended up here, shifting nervously from foot to foot while the players made their mandatory lap around the field. 

It wasn’t really being in the tunnel that had you on edge. It was that Davis had gone to coordinate your motorcade out of the stadium, and left you with Gabriel. You didn’t feel as… safe with the blonde man, and his seriousness was really starting to set you off. 

You would have to very carefully bring it up with Davis later, though you hated doing anything that could potentially make his job harder. 

“Can you, um, not stand so close please?” you mumbled, as he pressed more closely to you as players from the Australian team started to make their way down the tunnels. “I want to say hello to the players,” 

Gabriel shook his head, standing firmly. “They haven’t been checked through security,”

“They just played a match,” You rolled your eyes, pushing him away from you, trying to create some space. “I doubt any of them are smuggling a weapon between here and the locker room, or have Ill intent,” 

They were your friends. People, your girlfriends played with every day. People you had spent a lot of time with. People who saw you as a person and not as a title. They wouldn’t cause you harm. 

“We can’t take that risk, Your Majesty,” Gabriel answered, already pressing back to pin you between his back and the wall, as his head whipped back and forth. 

You shoved him off of you more harshly, stumbling with the force. “I told you to go away. Why don’t you go stand at the front of the tunnel if you’re so worried,” 

You would have face-planted had strong arms not caught you. 

“Whoa there Princess,” Leah’s warm voice chuckled in your ear, using the term of endearment that annoyed you when it came from anyone but your girlfriends. “You only had to fall for me once,”

“Leah,” Your shoulders instantly relaxed at her voice, and you looked up to meet her eyes. “You guys played so well!”

She smiled brilliantly at you, and you leaned up to place a gentle kiss on her lips. 

It only lasted a second before a large hand appeared between you. 

“No physical contact please,” Gabriel said, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “It’s policy,” 

You glared at the side of his face. 

You were definitely going to have to talk to Davis about this. 

“What about me pretty girl?” Alessia asked,  materializing to Gabriel’s right. “Do I not deserve a kiss too?

“You definitely do. That goal was a fucking banger,” You said, pulling away from the defender, and throwing out a foot mocking the way Alessia had smashed the ball. “Lee crossed it in and then woosh,”

You threw your arms out, mimicking the goal celebration that Alessia did. The one that reminded you of an airplane, right into her waiting grasp. 

She leaned forward, brushing your nose with her. “You’re adorable,”

You closed the last millimeter, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss. 

She tasted like mint gum, and blue Gatorade, and something so… Alessia. She tasted like home. 

“And you look very fit with our names on your back,” Leah added, running her fingers across the bold letters across your shoulders before she wrapped her arms around the two of you. 

You buried your face in Alessia’s chest to hide the red blooming across your cheeks, earning a giggle from both women. 

“Your majesty, I don't feel comfortable with this situation,” Gabriel said, clearing his throat, and stepping into your space. He leaned down and lowered his voice like he thought it would prevent Leah and Alessia from hearing him.  “We’re in too public of a place. It’s not befitting of the crown,”

You froze, your back going rigid. 

It was one thing for him to not understand personal boundaries. For him to be hyper-vigilant. 

You could chalk that up to his… newness. 

But this. This you could not tolerate. 

Your fingers caught Alessia’s top before she could pull away, forcing her to stay pressed against you, as your other hand reached back to hold Leah’s hip. You didn’t need them to move. You didn’t want them to move. 

You took a deep breath before pulling your face out of Alessia’s chest to stare daggers at the bulky, blonde man. 

“Call for backup,” You said, your voice deadly calm. 

He raised an eyebrow at you. “There’s no need. I have it-“ 

“It wasn’t a request,” You cut him off icily. “Call for backup now, or I will do it myself,” 

He paused at your tone, glancing at the teammates and friends that had been on their way to the locker room, also frozen at the foreign chill in your voice. 

It was the tone you saved for meetings with world leaders you didn’t particularly like. Ones with foreign dignitaries who thought they could walk all over you, your family, and your country. 

He took a step back, lowering his voice like he was talking to a child. “Your majesty, I don’t think this is a proper conversation to have with an audience,” 

You weren’t in the mood to be scolded. 

“And I don’t care what you think,” You bit back, letting go of Leah’s hip to reach up to your necklace, pressing the bottom button hidden on the pendant twice. 

The signal that you needed assistance, but it wasn’t emergent or life-threatening. 

Still, within 30 seconds Tomas was rounding the corner near the locker rooms, speed walking towards you. The crowd of white and yellow jerseys parted for him like he was Mosis. 

You were slightly disappointed it wasn’t Davis, but Tomas would do. 

“Little commander,” He nodded his head in greeting, his eyes flickering across the scene before returning to you. “How can I be of assistance,”

You appreciated that he had addressed you first. 

That he acknowledged that you were the one in control here. 

But Gabriel didn’t seem to get that message. 

“Your presence isn’t needed,” The blonde security man huffed, “Her majesty is throwing a temper tantrum,”

Alessia’s fingers tightened around your hips, and you didn’t have to look at her to see the scowl pulling across her lips. Leah’s arms similarly squeezed around your shoulders and you knew daggers were being thrown his way. 

Had this been any other circumstance you were sure the growing crowd of footballers would have oooed. 

Not that you needed them.

You had this all under control. 

“Take Gabriel to the exit,” You said evenly, command and… dominance, radiating through the simple words. “or to the dumpster or the Thames. I don’t really care but get him away from me. He is relieved of his duty,”

The blonde security man sputtered. “You can’t do that. I’m-“

“Actually I can,” You cut him off. “I can do whatever the fuck I want. Tomas, please remind Gabriel of the terms of his service,”

Tomas cleared his throat, suppressing a grin. “We serve at the pleasure of our charge, Her Majesty, Princess of Braavos, heir to the throne,”

Your chest puffed a bit at your full title. 

One you generally despised, but it served its purpose here. 

“And you certainly have not… pleasured me. Not that you’re capable,” Your lips turned upwards in a cruel smirk, as Alessia and Leah, and the surrounding crowd didn’t hold in their giggles. “Perhaps you should work on your listening, and little things called consent and common sense,”

“Let’s go,” Tomas caught Gabriel’s arms before he could protest or argue with you, not that there was anything he could say. The taller, balder security man made eye contact with you before he hauled Gabriel away. “Davis and Matthew will be by shortly. I’ve left Carson at the top of the tunnel and I’ll have him perform personal security until they arrive,”

You sent him a stiff nod, standing at your full height until they were out of sight before you let yourself collapse back into Alessia. 

You would never. Could never truly be alone. 

“I fucking hate doing that,” You groaned into her chest, and Leah leaned forward to press a kiss to the back of your neck.

“We know love,” The defender hummed into your soft skin, and Alessia made a sound of agreement, shooing the crowd of football players around you to go about their way.  

“But on the bright side, you did look proper sexy,” Alessia said, gently pinching the skin just beneath the hem of your jersey. “Her Majesty, Princess of Braavos, heir to the throne,”

You couldn’t help the giggle that bugged from your lips at her terrible rendition of Tomas’ heavy accent. The one you worked incredibly hard to suppress.

It had come out slightly in the exchange, the only indicator that English was not your first language. 

It was something that happened when you were annoyed, which was rare in itself. You didn’t like to wield your power, and thankfully, you usually didn’t have to in your personal life. 

“For a second I thought you were going to yell at him in Valyrian,” Leah said, her lips working from the back of your neck up to just behind your ear. 

You hummed. “I try not to do that in mixed company,” 

Despite how much you had pushed against the mold of your upbringing, your impeccable manners could not be changed. 

Plus you knew how much Leah and Alessia loved when you spoke in your native language. How… wound up… it made them. You didn’t want to associate your annoyance with that. Ever. 

Alessia smirked. “So he can’t pleasure you?” 

You rolled your eyes at the change in subject. 

“No. He was only on my team for 3 days, and I wanted to strangle him for most of it,” Your lips pulled up in an impish smirk. “Plus I could tell that he’s never given out a feminominon in his fucking life,” 

Leah mirrored the expression against your neck, and Alessia’s eyes sparkled.

“I think we could definitely show you what we know about feminominons,” Leah said, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin just below your ear. 

 “Would you like to shower with us?”Alessia’s thumb ran over the skin just above your pants. “We promise we won’t bite, “

“Unless you ask nicely,” Leah finished, her teeth grazing over the wet skin she had just kissed. 

It was sometimes scary how they could finish each other's thoughts, though you weren’t convinced that this had been their endgame all along. 

You melted into them, the rest of your annoyance fading. 

“I would love nothing more,” 

They nodded at Carson as they dragged you towards the locker room, the shorter, muscular man shifting to stand by the door, already talking into his earpiece. 

You just needed some time with your girls. 

It’s what you wanted and the security team would respect that and leave you undisturbed. 

They served at your pleasure after all, and so did your girlfriends apparently. 

Well, at least at the moment, they would serve to pleasure you. 

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: y/n pregnency!!

Grid Kids: Bun in the Oven

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: moments with the grid kids during your pregnancy

Series Masterlist

Kicking Up a Storm

“Did the little one just ...” Charles’ eyes widen as he pulls back his hand abruptly from where it had been resting on your stomach.

Lando, lounging on the other side of the room with a video game controller in hand, smirks, “Did what? Tried to escape? Can’t blame it, considering the rest of its siblings."

You swat playfully at Lando as Max and George, engrossed in assembling a nursery chair, look up in anticipation. “Come on, let us feel!” Max pleads, abandoning the chair pieces on the floor.

As everyone gathers around, taking turns to gently place their hands on your baby bump, you feel a flutter, a gentle kick responding to their touch. The room fills with gasps of wonder and joy.

“Feels like a future driver if you ask me,” George grins, looking at Sebastian, who chuckles, already imagining another Vettel on the tracks.

Lance, feeling a tad left out, decides to jump in. “Can it hear us? Hello in there, it’s your brother Lance! Remember to pick me as the fun brother, okay?”

Mick, who has been reading every pregnancy book he could get his hands on, chimes in, “You do realize the baby can’t differentiate voices yet, right?”

Lance waves him off, “Details, details.”

Cravings Are No Joke

“Pickles and chocolate? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, holding up the two seemingly mismatched items as he stands in the middle of a grocery store aisle.

Lance, pushing the cart, shrugs. “Don’t question the cravings, just go with it.”

Charles, scrolling through the list on his phone, adds, “Oh and don’t forget the spicy ramen, blueberry pie, and ... pineapple pizza?”

George groans, “Pineapple pizza? Come on! Anything but that. I’m not even Italian and I’m still offended.”

Lando, with an impish grin, quips, “Remember when she wanted the mango gelato at 3 am? That was a fun drive.”

Mick chuckles, “Or the time we went to five different bakeries just to find that particular lemon cake she couldn’t live without.”

Lance pauses, looking thoughtful, “And wasn’t there a phase where she only wanted foods that were purple?”

George nods, “Yep, aubergines, purple potatoes, grapes ... I still can’t look at a plum without laughing.”

As the grid kids continue shopping, picking out items based on the rather diverse list you gave them, they share more anecdotes of the past months. The store’s other patrons watch in amusement as the young men navigate the aisles, often debating the merits of various brands or flavors, all to ensure they get it just right for you.

Later, back home, your grid kids proudly present their haul. You and Sebastian look on with affection as they lay out the eclectic mix of food.

“Did you guys get everything?” You ask, trying to hide your laughter.

Max feigns offense at being questioned, “Of course, we’re professionals.”

Sebastian leans in to whisper in your ear, “I’m just glad they didn’t try cooking this time. Remember the schnitzel incident?”

You giggle, recalling the disastrous attempt. “Of course I do. I was cleaning flour off the cabinets and ceiling for weeks. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.”

It’s a …

The preparations for your gender reveal are in full swing at the local park and your grid kids are at the heart of it. They’ve split into two factions: Team Girl, led by Charles and Lance, and Team Boy, spearheaded by Max and Lando.

Charles and Lance have laid out a series of pink challenges, including a three-legged race where participants wear pink tutus. “It’s going to be a girl, no doubt about it!” Lance proclaims confidently.

Max and Lando, on the other hand, have a blue-themed obstacle course, complete with a mini kart race. Lando, wearing a blue bandana, shouts over the ruckus, “I have no idea what you’re talking about because it’s definitely a boy.”

George has taken on the role of referee. Dressed in a striped shirt, whistle in hand, he’s ensuring that the competition remains friendly. “Remember, it’s all in good fun!” he reminds everyone, though his “Team Girl” badge suggests where his loyalties lie.

Mick, though undecided, has tie-dye patches of both blue and pink on his shirt. “I just want a healthy sibling for all of us,” he says with a gentle smile, standing back and enjoying the antics.

Sebastian, watching the chaos unfold, leans over and whispers in your ear, “Did we really think letting them plan this was a good idea?”

You laugh, “It’s a bit crazy but look at them. They’re having the time of their lives!”

The moment everyone’s been waiting for finally arrives. At the center of the park, a large, sealed box waits. As you and Sebastian approach, the grid kids form a circle around it, their playful banter coming to a halt.

With a shared look of excitement, you both pull on the ribbon. The box flaps open, releasing a cloud of ... green smoke?

The park erupts in a mixture of laughter and confusion.

Max looks baffled, “Green?”

Charles chuckles, “Guess neither team wins today!”

Lando, trying to waft away the smoke, jokes, “Alien? Oh my god, you’re having an alien!”

Mick wraps an arm around you, “Like I said, as long as it’s healthy.”

You smile, nestling into Sebastian’s side, “We thought we’d keep everyone guessing for a little longer.”

False Alarm

“Sebastian! The baby! I think it’s happening!” You exclaim, feeling a sudden tightening in your abdomen.

Sebastian, who was in the middle of mediating a lively debate with Max and Charles over who will be the baby’s favorite brother, nearly trips over the rug in his rush to get to you. “Okay, okay, okay. Deep breaths, in and out.”

Lance, eyes wide as saucers, frantically begins googling “how to deliver a baby” on his phone while George starts making a list of things needed for the hospital. “Towels! We need towels, right?”

Lando is somewhere on another planet, muttering to himself, “This isn’t happening. I am not ready to see a baby being born. Nope, nope, nope.”

Mick tries to restore some order. “Calm down everyone. Y/N, are you sure it’s really labor?"

Before you can respond, Charles bursts through the door, holding a bucket of ice. “I read somewhere you might need ice. Here!”

You laugh through the discomfort, appreciating the chaos ensuing because of your grid kids’ concern. "Actually guys, I think it’s just Braxton Hicks. False alarm.”

A collective sigh of relief sweeps the room. Sebastian, still slightly pale, pulls you into a hug, “You sure know how to keep things exciting.”

Lance looks up from his phone, “What’s Braxton Hicks?”

“It’s like a rehearsal for the real thing,” George explains, folding up his hastily made list.

Max, trying to regain his cool, smirks, “Well, if that was a rehearsal, the main event is going to be epic.”

You chuckle, patting your belly, “Guess the little one just wanted to see how quickly you all could jump into action.”

Putting the “Student” in “Student Drivers”

As you and Sebastian sit on the couch, going over your prenatal class schedule, a curious George peeks over. “What’s that? Are those the birthing classes?”

You nod, “Yep! We’re starting next week. It’ll help us prepare for the big day.”

Suddenly, Charles pops up beside George, eyes widening in interest. “Can we come?”

“That sounds cool! I’ve always wondered what those classes are like.” Lando chimes in from where he’s keeping an ear out in the kitchen.

Sebastian looks a bit overwhelmed, “I thought it was just going to be the two of us.”

Lance joins the group, scrolling through a magazine article about celebrity dads attending birthing classes. “Look at this! It’s a thing now. We could all go and support you both.”

Max adds, “Besides, we’re family. We’ve been there through everything else. Why not this?”

“Do they even allow so many people to join?” Mick ponders.

You can’t help but laugh at the eager faces in front of you. “I never thought I’d have to bring an entourage to a birthing class.”

Sebastian rubs his temples. “Okay, how about this? We’ll ask the instructor if it’s okay. If they allow it, you guys can join on one condition.”

Lando bounces on his toes, “What’s that?”

“No teasing or making jokes during the class. We’re there to learn and be supportive.”

Charles nudges Max, “That’s mainly directed at you.”

Max fakes innocence. “Me? I would never!”

You shake your head, “Alright, I’ll call tomorrow and see if our little ... or rather large group can attend.”

Your grid kids cheer, excited about the new adventure. As they scatter, already planning and discussing among themselves, Sebastian leans over to whisper in your ear, “This baby is already turning our world upside down and they’re not even here yet.”

You smile and squeeze his hand, “With this family, every moment is an adventure.”

***

The birthing center’s usual tranquil ambiance is slightly offset by the excited chatter of the grid kids as you all enter. The instructor, a calm and composed woman named Clara, raises an eyebrow at the large group but doesn’t comment. After all, it’s not every day that half of the Formula 1 grid walks into her class.

The session starts with everyone introducing themselves. Most couples share sweet stories of their relationship journey. When it's your turn, Sebastian starts, “I’m Sebastian, this is my wife, Y/N,” he pauses, motioning to the group, “and these are ... our sons.”

The room erupts in chuckles. One of the expectant mothers quips, “That’s a lot of kids! You two have been busy!”

Clara moves on with the class, demonstrating breathing techniques. Everyone’s earnest attempt to follow along results in a mix of deep breathing, snorts, and a few stifled laughs. At one point, Max, struggling to get the rhythm right, looks over at Lando and mutters, “I feel like I’m preparing to go underwater.”

When it comes time for practicing labor positions, the grid kids enthusiastically volunteer. George and Charles end up demonstrating a position, with George playing the supporting partner and Charles the laboring mom-to-be. The sight of Charles leaning into George, pretending to be in labor, has the room laughing, especially when Charles exaggerates with dramatic moans.

Lance and Mick take a turn next and when Lance offers words of encouragement to “pregnant” Mick, saying, “You’re doing great, sweetie,” you almost fall off your chair laughing.

Towards the end of the class, Clara demonstrates the use of a birthing ball. Lando decides to take a leap onto one only to bounce off, crashing into Max and sending both of them tumbling to the ground. The room is in stitches.

Despite their hilarious antics, your grid kids genuinely try to grasp the concepts, asking thoughtful questions and engaging in the exercises.

As the class wraps up, Clara approaches you with a smile. “I must say, this has been the most ... lively class I’ve ever taught.”

You grin, “That’s one way to put it.”

She chuckles, “But it’s clear they all care deeply for you and want to support you both in any way they can.”

Sebastian nods, wrapping an arm around you, “We’re very lucky to have them.”

For Real This Time

Lando and Charles are in the middle of a heated argument over the best way to make a sandwich (complete with props and charts) when you suddenly feel a warm sensation. Looking down, your eyes widen. “Uh, guys?”

“What is it?” Sebastian jumps up right away.

You swallow, “I think my water just broke.”

For a moment, there’s stunned silence. Then … mayhem.

Max yells, “To the car! Now!” while Lance scrambles to grab the pre-packed hospital bag.

George accidentally knocks over a vase in his attempt to find your phone. “Sorry! We can clean that up later, right?”

Mick tries to maintain calm, “Everyone, deep breaths, remember the class?”

Lando, eyes wide, mutters, “This is nothing like the class.”

Upon arriving at the hospital, the reception area becomes a scene of organized chaos. As Sebastian wheels you in, the grid kids follow in a flustered procession.

A nurse at the reception desk blinks in surprise. “Is there a convention in town?”

Mick, panting slightly, replies, “No, just family.”

Lando adds, “The biggest family you’ve ever seen.”

Another nurse, recognizing some of the faces, chuckles, “Formula 1 drivers in the maternity ward? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Inside, as the medical team preps you, the grid kids stand outside, pacing and nervously waiting. They take turns peeking through the small window, offering waves and thumbs-up.

Sebastian holds your hand and doesn’t complain once as you grab back hard enough to break every bone in it, “You know, I’ve faced pressure on the track but this ... this is on another level.”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand, “Just remember, I’m doing the hard part.”

Soon enough, after what feels like both a minute and a lifetime, the beautiful cry of your newborn fills the room. Your grid kids, hearing the sound, cheer loudly, causing several nurses to hush them.

Charles, tears in his eyes, says, “We’re big brothers now. Like, for real.”

“Wait,” Lando interjects, “aren’t you already a big brother?”

“Shush mate, let me have this moment.”

Max rolls his eyes but smiles, “Welcome to the family, little one. We’re a bit crazy but we already love you so much.”

[littleslaywrites]

trinkets and letters | spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer always brings you trinkets whenever he comes back from a case.

word count: 1.1k

cw: pure fluff, gift giving as a love language, letters from spencer

Everyone who knew you knew you loved trinkets. There was a space carved out on a shelf above your desk that had them all out for display. It was a collection that had started before you could remember. The first was a figure of a stork, something your parents had brought home when you were born. At every moment, you grabbed a memento, and now it had accumulated into the menagerie nestled between your bookshelves.

Spencer had noticed this habit on his first visit to your apartment. He’d looked through them during a conversation, inspecting them all. Occasionally, he’d pause his rambling to ask about how you acquired one that intrigued him. You smiled at how delicate he was, his hands gently grasping each one and running a finger along the details.

The shelf had given Spencer an idea. He hated leaving you for cases, missing you from the moment he stepped on the jet until he walked into your apartment upon his return. You were understanding, but he knew you missed him, too. One day, he was walking through the lobby of a hotel he was staying at and passed by a small gift shop. Reminded of your display, he walked in to find a miniature Statue of Liberty. He bought it, smiling at the image of it sitting next to the rest of your trinkets.

When he got back from the case, he knocked on your door, buzzing with excitement. He held the gift in his palm, fingers wrapped around it to hide it from view.

The second he opened the door, he gave you a quick kiss, blurting, “I got you something.”

“You got me something?” you asked, ignoring his lack of greeting. 

“So you know how I was in New York?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how you have your shelf?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I found your newest addition,” he said as he held out his palm. You took the little statue, holding it up with a smile that matched Spencer’s. 

Bringing it to your study, the two of you determined the perfect place for it. Spencer couldn’t stop glancing over at you, seeing the glow of your grin as you held the gift. 

From then on, it became a tradition. You loved the gifts, as they were a tangible reminder that he thought of you, even when you weren’t with him. It gave you a fuzzy feeling to think about, imagining him going out of his way to find you a memento. Spencer loved the giving, overjoyed every time he saw your giddy smile. 

One night, you heard the distinct knock on your door, and jumped off the couch. You opened the door to see Spencer’s smiling face, a comfort after a long week. Wrapping you up in his arms, he disrupts your usual routine, not giving you a gift right away.

“I did something a little different for this case”, he said, keeping an arm behind his back.

He showed you a small box, a bow tied around it. 

“They’re letters,” he said, “for when you need me but I can’t be there.”

Undoing the tie, you open it, revealing various envelopes labeled with messages. 

Open Me When You’re Sad, Open Me When You Don’t Feel Pretty, Open Me When You’re Mad at Me, Open Me When You Can’t Sleep, Open Me When You Need to Remember How Much I Love You

You beam as you look through them, and Spencer can’t help but fall in love with you all over again.

Thoughts swarm in your head, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. “You’re too sweet, Spence,” is all you can say through your bliss.

He replies with a kiss, carrying you to the couch so you can recount the details of your week. 

You cherished the letters, finding comfort when he wasn’t beside you. One case was far too long for your liking. Spencer had been gone for eight days now, and you couldn’t help but worry whenever he took more than ten minutes to respond to your texts. Of course, you knew he was busy, but you still worried. 

Reaching for your bedside drawer, you pull out the box of letters. You retrieve one that reads “Open Me When I’ve Been Gone for Too Long”, tearing open the envelope. 

Y/n, 

I know you must hate these long cases as much as I do. I miss you with every step I take, looking forward to when I take the step through the threshold of your apartment and into your arms. The truth is, it never gets easier. I hope you know you’re never forgotten, no matter how long I’ve been away. 

It’s not as good as the real thing, but I always use my imagination on the nights I’m not beside you in bed. I close my eyes and think of you, the way your lips twitch at the edges as you dream, the way your head rests against my chest, the warmth that lulls me to sleep. 

Do the same thing for me when you’re done reading this letter. Close your eyes, and picture me beside you, wherever you are. Even if I’m not physically there, I leave a piece of my heart with you every time I leave.

The hardest part of my job is hearing the sad tinge in your voice when I tell you I’ll be away. It breaks my heart every time, but I can’t help but think of how grateful I am to have someone I miss so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you when you get back. I’ll knock on your door, and you’ll open it to see me with another trinket in my hands. Just hold out for that moment, no matter how far it seems. 

For now, you can hold this letter close, and pretend that it’s me. Every time your heart aches, know I’m feeling the same. 

You’re my home. No matter how long it takes, I’ll always make my way back to you. 

Love, 

Spencer

You hold the letter near to your heart and remember his words. The distance can’t keep you apart, and you know Spencer is carrying you with him in his thoughts and his heart. You almost wish you had his memory, envious that he can recall any of your moments together with perfect accuracy. No matter, you had his words, which were more than enough for you. You close your eyes, eagerly awaiting the arrival of him and the newest trinket he’d carry home.

a/n: lowkey i love this concept and what do u guys think of a part two? also I know I haven't been updating as regularly since the semester just started but I'll work on being more regular as well as going thru requests :)