#i know i post about sparkly elves mostly but fuck them elves

[bookwyrminspiration]

watching black sails :3

FUCK YEAHHHH!!!!!!!! God I will never get over Black Sails. If black sails has a million fans I'm one of them etc.

The story is just so beautifully crafted and executed, and every character is so rich and complex and compelling. And for it to be, at it's core, a story of queer resistance and rage? To have a queer story that lovingly crafted. And also badass PIRATES? it does something to me

I hope you enjoy it, it's genuinely my favorite show of all time. No pressure if you don't, but MAN

[desiree-harding-fic]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Based on that one post by @thepensword about how Taako is always cold. Can be found here. Plus an idea I’ve had for a long time but never written about.

Cw for swears, kids. Be safe out there. But other than that it’s light angst with a fluffy chaser and a dash of Lore.

Enjoy!!!

*~*~*~*~*

Positively stomping through the streets of Neverwinter, Taako, for the thousandth time, curses the city for its positively idiotic name.

“Neverwinter”, his ass. Maybe they should have gone with “UsuallyWinter,” or “JustAsMuchWinterAsAnywhereElse,” or “CanWeReallySayThatAnythingOnThisOneSunnedPlanetIsn’tWinter.”

Because, you see, Taako is cold.

Taako is always cold.

It’s a holdover from a plane long behind them. Two-sunned elves have different traits than those of Faerun. Ears that move. Different colored eyes.

Different body temperatures.

Taako is a sun elf. A sun elf from a planet with two suns. He was made for warmth. More warmth than here. And even on two-sun he ran a little colder than the other elves he knew. But there, the extra warmth was enough to compensate. He’d tan in the summer, he’d soak up the rays and wear sleeveless shirts and live for the suns.

Faerun has one sun. On Faerun the long sleeves and pants, the heavy coat with the dozens of pockets he wore adventuring were more than just good sense - they helped him stay fucking warm.

It’s not even fair because Lup isn’t even cold all the time. Lup feels fine. Mostly. She gets a little chilly but it’s nothing a jacket can’t fix, and now she’s a Reaper and something about that helps too (Taako doesn’t know what). Taako’s body doesn’t work that way. And to top it all off, ever since Wonderland, when those fucking liches stole some of his vitality, it’s gotten even worse.

The snowy winter days in Fucking Neverwinter are hell to the multiverse’s favorite wizard, because no matter how many layers of coats and scarves and gloves and enchanted wizard hats he throws on, he can’t get warm.

He turns off the road, starts making the hike up the hill to his house which looks out on the Stillwater sea. He liked the walk when he bought the place. Lined it with trees and flowers that Merle and Pan blessed to grow big and beautiful.

He bought the place in the summer.

Magic should help. It doesn’t. First lesson he ever learned on the road with Lup: no matter how good a wizard you think you are, you never directly influence body temperature using magic. It’s too powerful, too volatile. Transmutation on the body was a risk they were willing to take. Watching your sibling’s blood boil just because you got a little chilly was not.

He finally makes it up to his front door, pushes inside, and sighs in relief.

Ever since the first chills of autumn in the city, every fireplace in Taako’s home, of which there are many, has been running almost nonstop. Is it a fire hazard? Probably. Does Taako give a shit? Maybe ten percent of one. He’s got more money than anyone else in the damn planar system. He can buy a new house.

(But he likes his villa-styled sprawling house by the sea. Likes the herbs in the window boxes and the flowers in the front and back. Likes the view of the water. It would be a shame if it burned down.)

The fireplaces help. But not enough. Never enough.

He takes off his outermost layer for the sake of the snow caked on it, but keeps on everything underneath it. Stupid, he thinks, to wear a full coat and scarf inside of his own house. But he doesn’t know any other way.

He walks through the foyer, and there.

The man of the hour.

Kravitz.

He’s reclining on the couch, close by the fire, book in one hand and glass of red wine in the other, wearing his usual suit without the jacket and shoes. He looks...

Well.

Taako knows how he looks (miraculous).

The worst thing about the winter is the space it’s put between him and his boyfriend.

Six months after Story and Song, and Taako, against all odds, is living with Kravitz. As in, Kravitz lives in his house. Kravitz drinks his wine and moved in his books and plays piano here and sleeps in Taako’s bed.

Well, most of the time.

Kravitz, who’s hands were ice cold on his and Taako’s first date, who tried to warm himself up for their first kiss, is fucking freezing to the touch in the winter.

It’s been a solid couple of months since Taako and Kravitz have cuddled without at least three or four layers between them, and by then Taako could pretty much have just bought a weighted blanket for all the good it does him. It’s hard to satisfy that craving for skin contact from the person you... care about when said skin contact feels like hugging an ice sculpture.

Kravitz looks up, puts down his glass of wine.

“Evening,” he says, mildly, as though testing the waters. And that’s what does it for Taako.

“Hey,” Taako says, immediately turning into the kitchen, not looking at Kravitz, because he just can’t.

Ever since the winter started, and Taako, out of necessity, started shying away from Kravitz’s touch, things have been... weird.

Taako knows that Kravitz isn’t the kind to speak up about this kind of thing. They’re working on it, but it’s been so long since he’s been in a relationship, so many mortal things are new to him. Taako knows this. And yet... breaching this issue, to which Taako has no solution, trying to communicate to Kravitz that he wants him while constantly having to push him away is... frustrating. What Kravitz wants is for Taako to be happy, for Taako to be comfortable. He says it constantly. He insists. And it’s the insisting that’s the problem.

Because Taako knows that even if he’s not saying it, Kravitz isn’t happy either.

And now when Taako comes home, and tries to spend time with his boyfriend, there’s all this horrible... space between them. When Taako’s cold, it seeps into his words and his actions, until all of him is cold, not just his body, not just his skin. Until he’s cold to people he cares about, and apologies come slow and with difficulty, and then the damage has been done.

Taako starts on a simple soup, no energy to make anything flashier, and still refusing to use magic in the kitchen. He hates the way all the extra clothing gets in the way of cooking. Hates the way the warmth of the stove only does so much.

Kravitz eats with him that night, and they talk, but it’s a weird, shy conversation, both of them anticipating what comes after.

What comes after is Kravitz sitting on the other side of the couch pretending to read while Taako shivers and pretends too.

What comes after is Taako going about his evening routine before slipping into bed in a full onesie and under about five blankets. It’s Kravitz dressing in flannels to try to shield Taako from the coldness of his skin, and then the two of them, side by side. Lying on their back and staring up at the ceiling, as they wait for sleep to come.

It’s a long wait, when one of them is an elf and the other doesn’t sleep naturally.

And there’s the thing about Kravitz: he’s not just without warmth. He’s actively cold. His body radiates cold like a living person’s radiates warmth. It’s only been a few minutes and Taako’s already shivering.

“I’m sorry,” Kravitz says from his side of the bed. And he sounds so fucking defeated and sad and Taako feels bad but he also feels annoyed. Because he’s cold. Because why can’t Kravitz just be a normal fucking person. Because Kravitz won’t talk to him and he won’t talk to Kravitz and this whole situation is just a goddamn nightmare.

“Not your fault,” Taako says, but the words have been said so many times they hardly mean anything anymore. He can feel how flippant they sound. He can feel the way they don’t sink in, how they bounce off Kravitz’s skin like Taako doesn’t care.

I do, he tries to broadcast. I promise I do.

“I think maybe it would be better if I stayed up tonight.” Kravitz says, like it’s an idea he’s only just had, not something he’s been saying nearly every night these days, like it’s not the new normal, like he truly believes that they still sleep in the same bed and touch each other and they aren’t on the verge of -

Kravitz slips out of the bed, pads gently out of the room and shuts the door behind him. And Taako turns over in bed, ignoring the tightness in his throat and trying, desperately, to get warm.

*~*~*~*~*

Candlenights comes, as it always does, despite the coldness in Taako’s house and his heart.

And Taako’s happy for it, really. He didn’t harbor any delusions about everything being beautiful and shiny and sparkly so close to the apocalypse, and in the aftermath of it. The world is still healing from a colossal wound. But he’s hosting, at least. He’s always been a good party planner. Lup is there and so is Barry. Merle comes up from the coast with his kids. Magnus and his dogs. Angus, visiting on his break from school. Davenport is still abroad, and Lucretia is conspicuously absent (no amount of begging from Lup could convince Taako to let her into his house), but it’s... good. Cozy, almost.

Taako even cooks for everyone, Lup assisting, and ignores the careful distance Kravitz keeps from him and from most of his family. The meal goes off without a hitch, save Taako’s shivering. He can see the sympathetic eyes Magnus keeps making at him, wants to glare and snap and tell him to fuck off, but he doesn’t. Just because the cold makes him crabby doesn’t mean he has to be an asshole.

He has a thick will blanket wrapped around him elegantly, like a shawl, while they’re unwrapping presents. Lup smiles brightly at the diamond earrings Kravitz got her, and Taako’s heart swells a little. Angus loves his books. Kravitz gets Taako a set of jewelry done up in gently curling silver and sapphire and pink tourmaline, because he’s a romantic, and Taako tries to ignore how... wiggly it makes him feel.

He wants to kiss him. He doesn’t.

Taako saves Lup’s gift for last, as is tradition.

It’s a tiny little box, which Taako had first been terrified was from Kravitz and then relieved wasn’t, and it’s as light as a feather.

Because, Taako discovers, there’s nothing inside.

Nothing, that is, except a tiny ivory card with scrolling golden text on it. It reads:

Command word: flambé.

Love, Barry and Lup! :)

“What the fuck, Lulu?” Taako asks, turning the card over and over in his hands.

“Oh fuck off, Taako,” Lup says good-naturedly from Barry’s lap. Gross. “You’ll thank me later. Well, thank us.”

And isn’t that fucking cryptic, he thinks. But Lup is Lup. His sister is fucking weird, and he brushes it off in favor of drinking more wine.

It’s a good day, mulled wine and carols and gift-giving, but as all good days do, it winds down sooner than expected. The guests go off to their many rooms, Taako’s house big enough to host them all (by design), and before he knows it, he and Kravitz are headed to bed.

It’s the same old charade. Kravitz goes through the motions, and Taako does too, and it’s awful and stilted and he just wants it to end.

It’s not fair, he thinks, staring at the the bed while Kravitz is still futzing around in the bathroom, a charade of mortality. Kravitz is good. Taako likes him. He’s nice to talk to and doesn’t make Taako feel like he has to perform. He’s a big old nerd and actually really compassionate and sometimes an entity of absolute chaos and he’s perfect for Taako, he really is. So why can’t he just have this? Why does there have to be fucking... roadblocks in the way?

Taako expected things to be hard. He expected having to make things work. Sometimes Kravitz is gone for days going after bounties and Taako can deal with that. There are elements of mortal life Kravitz has to re-learn, and he doesn’t know how to interact in just.. normal society sometimes, and Taako can deal with that. Sometimes he’s a real asshole and gets prickly and offended and impatient after a bad day and Taako can deal with that.

He doesn’t know how to deal with not being able to touch him for months at a time.

He’s shivering just standing there. He needs cover.

But when he pulls back the comforter the sheets are a deep fuchsia. And while it’s a nice color, it looks nothing like his usual ones.

There’s a piece of paper like a letter, there, on his side of the bed under the comforter. It’s the same as the card he found in lup’s gift, and all that’s on it, in that same gold ink, is a winky face.

Taako sighs, long and deep. Because with Lup these things are always a gamble. Is it a gag gift? If Taako says the command word, will his bed explode? He has a horrible flashback to the memory of his first conversation with Kravitz, which was about tentacle porn, and Lup heard it from the umbrastaff, and now she’s given him enchanted bedsheets. Taako pales at the thought.

But here’s the thing: it’s late, and he’s tired, and he can always shut it off because he’s the best wizard in all planar systems, and he’s curious.

He stands, contemplating, cold as balls, for another minute.

And then he says, very deliberately,

“Flambé.”

And for a second it looks like nothing happened. And then it really looks like nothing happened. And then...

Taako can feel the warmth just from standing next to the bed.

It takes him about 0.04 seconds to hop in after that, to pull the sheets up around his shoulders and bury himself under the covers up to his chin.

It’s heavenly. Warmth from all sides, and Taako sighs, long and deep, as he feels tension in his muscles all over his body, held from weeks and months of being cold all the time. Already he can feel the chill in his veins slipping away. He can feel the warmth reaching the core of him, strong and comforting.

He can feel his face flushing, and the warmth rushing up into his long ears.

And then it gets warmer.

And warmer.

And warmer.

Uncomfortably warm.

Taako’s sweating, he realizes. He’s flushed, not in the comfortable way of sitting by the fire. He’s hot like a beach day, hot like a desert plane. He throws the covers off above the waist. It’s not enough. He’s too hot. Much, much too hot.

The door to the bathroom opens up and Kravitz steps out.

“Oh thank god,” Taako says, without thinking, “get the hell over here.” He holds up the blankets on Kravitz’s side of the bed, gestures for him to get in. Kravitz is staring at him like he’s grown an extra head. He slides into bed, slowly, tentative, and Taako practically throws himself on top of him.

The relief of his cold skin isn’t enough through the flannel pajamas Taako’s wearing. He goes for his shirt buttons.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, “what’s happening here?”

“Damn enchanted sheets from Lup are too fucking hot,” Taako grumbles, pulling his shirt off and squirming around with his pajamas pants until those are off too. He tosses them across the room.

Laying across Kravitz’s chest is such a relief. It’s like cold water on a hot day, and Taako spends a luxurious moment running his hands over his chest and shoulders, nuzzles into his neck and revels in the coolness on his face. He sighs, goes boneless against his boyfriend. He feels wonderful.

Kravitz’s arms come up around his back, tentatively holding him, and it hits him.

“Oh shit,” he says, half sitting up. Kravitz looks him in the eyes, questioning.

“That was Lup’s Candlenights gift. It was...” he licks his lips. Why is it so much harder to say things than it is to feel them? “It was this,” he says, running his hands over Kravitz’s chest again.

Understanding dawns in Kravitz’s eyes, and he smiles at Taako, and his smile is like the sun on a warm day.

“Glad I can be your ice pack,” he says, smiling.

“Shut up,” Taako says, resting his head back down, feeling more than hearing the happy little hum Kravitz makes. He snuggles a little closer. Kravitz’s arms tighten around him.

“I missed you,” Kravitz whispers.

And what can Taako do in response to that but kiss him?

“I missed you too, handsome,” he whispers into Kravitz’s lips.

[feynites]

@selenelavellan said:

poor fear   i laughed really hard at this though   fear is one of those cats who's tried to claw a hole through the bathroom door 100%   selene has talked to eight different vets about her cats anxiety issues   nothing has helped   she'd have to bring them in and fear is never going to get into a carrier lbh   they'd shift first   'NO NOPE IM NOT GOING IN THERE'

Much as I also like the idea of Fear giving them away, this went in a slightly different direction.

But hopefully still good! So have some more Cat Shenanigans:

Fear can tell that Selene is trying to get them to go into the Trap Box again.

 They have reports from the others on what happens when one gets inside, and is successfully closed-in. The first time the Trap Box appeared, Affection had rushed into with their usual eagerness, happy to find a new blanket and a toy in the back. Selene had closed them into the box, though, and taken them away - much to everyone’s distress.

 But Affection had returned a little more than an hour later, speaking of a trip and a strange place that smelled of many terrible things, but that hadn’t, Affection insisted, ‘been bad’. There had been another woman who had seemed to examine the health of Affection’s feline body, and had proclaimed them hale.

 The next to be taken in the box was Des, who elected himself to go. Des’ accounts were mostly the same, but Fear was not satisfied that these excursions were wise. It seemed like too many things could go wrong. What if the Trap Box was stolen from Selene? What if the Vetarinian proved treacherous? What if Falon’Din came back while one of them was trapped and unable to defend themselves from him?

 The Trap Box was too small and tight, turning into a larger form while inside it would not work. And the mesh bars at the front, and the air slits at the sides, were too small for even the tiny mouse shape that Fear could take, in a pinch.

 It was not safe.

 The others decided to go, against Fear’s cautioning. Even Deceit ultimately went, giving in for the sake of their favourite treat - dried salmon pieces - and visiting this Vetarinian.

 Fear had hoped that would be the end of it.

 But Selene keeps making attempts. So far she has tried toys, treats, and several tricks, including hiding the Trap Box in Fear’s closet and attempting to disguise it. When she pulls it from the front hall closet and sets it down onto the living room floor, Fear opts to retreat to the space at the top of the bookcase with some haste. Last time, Selene had gotten so far as to wrap them in a towel, and had nearly gotten them into the Trap Box before Fear had gone limp and shifted their shape just enough to slide out of her grip and out of the towel as well.

 Selene had stopped trying for a while after that, when she got Fear trembling in their behind-the-television hiding place afterwards. Instead she had spent several days imploring them to look less betrayed.

 “I know, I know, you hate the crate,” she says at them, gently. “But it’s not so bad! The others did fine, didn’t they?”

 Fear hisses.

 Selene sighs.

 “Alright, I guess there’s nothing left but to do this the hard way…” she mutters to herself.

 Fear does not like the sounds of that.

 “Please don’t hate me,” Selene asks.

 Fear also does not like the sounds of that.

 Selene leaves, and fetches the towel. The towel. The thick one that makes scratching difficult. Fear determines that the top of the bookshelf is not an ideal defense post, and makes a run for it. The bedroom window was open the last they checked, but it is closed now. They make their way under the bed; it is always hardest to catch them there, because Selene cannot reach from one side to the other, so Fear can simply move any time she gets too close, without leaving their cover. They call for Deceit, who makes a mental sigh but then offers to get into the Trap Box instead. But Selene shoo’s Deceit back out - not satisfied with that, apparently. She brings the Trap Box into the bedroom, and then she does the unthinkable.

 She calls Marassal up from the store, and into the private living space.

 Fear does not realize it until they see the familiar bare feet and ankle bracelets appear alongside Selene’s at the doorway to the bedroom.

 No! Now there are two elves to contest with! Their plan did not account for that. Fear weighs the odds, the bed no longer being an ideal defensible position, and decides to make a bolt for it. The door to the shop might be open, and the shop has many more ideal spaces to hide in. They rush the bedroom door, but they aren’t anticipating Marassal’s reflexes. Or that he has a towel as well.

 Foolish. Foolish of them.

 The heavy, thick fabric engulfs Fear before they can reach the door, and they panic.

 It is almost a blessing. If Fear had been thinking rightly, they might have changed shape, which would have blown their cover and ruined everything. But in the moment, they are too overcome to manage even that much logic. And so they hiss and yowl and try to scratch and bite instead, finding only thick, treacherous towel fabric around them, before they are shoved into the Trap Box.

 The swing of the door closing is like ice in their veins.

 “It’s okay!” Selene says. “It’s okay, you’re okay, it’s alright-”

 Fear shakes, and tries to think of a solution to this horrifying turn of events. This disaster. They are going to get cornered in here. Falon’Din is coming for them. The Vetarinian will vivisect them, like Ghilan’nain. The box will be stolen and someone will throw it into a river and Fear will not be able to get out, no, this is not good!

 Selene thanks Marassal, and then returns to cooing gently at them as she picks up the Trap Box.

 “It’s alright, easy, you’re okay,” she tells them again.

 Fear meows back plaintively. Perhaps if they can appeal to her better nature, she will let them out?

 Please let them out!

 Selene’s expression through the bars looks as though it is wavering.

 She presses one of Fear’s favourite treats through a side slot instead, though. The offering may as well be dust to Fear, who hunches themselves towards the back of the box, and breathes heavily. Deceit begins to meow plaintively too, and then Dirthamen. After a minute even Des joins in, following Selene as she starts to make her way towards the door.

 “I know, guys, I know, but it’ll be fine. We’ll be back in no time, okay? Then you’ll all be checked out and chipped and that’s safer for everyone.”

 Safer?

 What about this is safe?!

 “Trust me,” Selene asks.

 Fear stares up at her uncertainly through the box’s slats.

 They… they do trust her, they suppose. To an extent. She saved Dirthamen, after all, and she is a good elf. She gives them things and looks after them. It is not that Fear distrusts her, or thinks she has bad intentions. It is just that… so much can go wrong. And she does not have all of the facts. They do not know why she thinks this would make them ‘safer’…

 Maybe Fear does not have all the facts, either.

 They try.

 It is very hard to no be afraid. Fear does not succeed, but they focus on breathing steadily and watching everything they can see through the front door of the cage. Selene carries them back down to the shop, walking with Marassal, and then says goodbye to him. He wishes her luck as she takes Fear out onto the street. The day is sunny but not too warm. The outdoor scents are typical, but it is a very strange experience, to be publicly carried down the main roads. Selene takes Fear to a bench, and offers them a few more treats. She makes gentle noises and insists that everything is going well, but Fear does not like the loud transport machine that roars up towards them after several minutes. It smells of death, and is full of strangers. Selene puts a towel down over the door of the Trap Box, so that Fear does not see the bevy of elves around them. But they can still sense things.

 They can still hear the jangle of a collar, too, the distinctive sound of a noise sniffing nearby. One of Selene’s hands settles over the vent slit one the far side of the box.

 “Excuse me, sorry, but my cat’s a little anxious. Could you keep your dog from getting too close?”

 “Oh, don’t worry, he’s friendly!”

 “Yes, I’m sure he is. It’s just that my cat’s anxious…”

“Off to the vet?”

 “Mmhmm. Could you-”

 “We’re going to the groomers ourselves, and then to the new dog park they opened on fifty-second-”

 “Great.”

 The Trap Box moves, and Selene settles both arms around it, as Fear feels her put it onto her lap instead. They try to see what they can through the slits in the sides, and spy a small dog with a sparkly collar, and an older woman who keeps talking blithely about play dates and asking Selene if she’s a ‘cat person’ or just in animal lover in general. Selene hedges an answer, while someone else coughs and the monstrous transport rumbles, and Fear counts at least a half dozen threats and only gets more stressed at not being able to assess them all.

 It seems to take them a small eternity to make whatever trip they are on. Fear can feel every frantic thump of their heart, but eventually, they move again. Selene removes the towel from the front of the Trap Box, and carries them out of the wretched machine and onto an unfamiliar sidewalk, with lots of green grass beside it.

 “Fucking…” she mutters to herself. “Keep your damn dog away from my cat, is that so hard? ‘Oh he’s friendly!’ Well that’s not the point you self-centered dumbass…”

 There is a bit more muttering before Selene switches tones and then starts assuring Fear that everything will be fine, and that they have arrived at their destination. The building she carries them too does, indeed, smell awful. It smells of the things Selene uses to keep her bathroom clean, and like too many other animals. There is barking coming from inside, which Selene assures Fear is ‘fine’. They can only watch with wide eyes as they are carried into this, the realm of the Vetarinian. Vetarinia, they would presume.

 Many spirits whisper that this is a place where animals come to die.

 Fear is not a real animal, but that is still greatly concerning, for obvious reasons.

 Fear watches as they enter a strange room. The barking seems to be coming from another one. There is a counter, almost like the one at the shop. But perhaps more like a desk? Selene approaches it, and gives her name to a young elf behind it, saying that she has the ‘two thirty’. The young elf says it will just be another ten minutes, because the ‘doctor’ is with another difficult patient. Selene thanks them and then carries Fear over to a row of seats, and sits down with the Trap Box in her lap again.

 From where they are positioned, Fear can see the door, but not much else. They watch, vigilant. Waiting to see what will happen next. After a few minutes, the door swings open, and a vashoth woman enters. She has a young child with her, and a smaller Trap Box in her arms. There is a turtle printed onto the exterior of the box. The child looks around the room, and then spots Fear.

 “Kitty!” he exclaims.

 He moves as if to rush them. Fear retreats to the back of the box, the only possible defensive position. A child is not a danger but they have no recourse, here, even to unintended harm. Before the boy can charge over to them, though, his mother grasps his arm and pulls him back to her side.

 “No, remember?” she admonishes gently. “Some animals here are sick, sweetheart, we have to use our quiet voices.”

 The little boy looks chastened, but also like he would still enjoy running over very much. Selene puts the towel back over the door, then. Which almost makes it worse, as Fear cannot see what is happening, cannot tell if anything worse might be coming. There is a shuffling sound, and then Selene seems to drape herself over the top of the box, too. Or, no - that is her sweater, Fear realizes. She must have taken it off and draped it over, shrouding them in darkness.

 Leaving more of her own skin exposed.

 That is not good.

 But it does make the box smell slightly more of Selene, and less of the room around them. They hear a childish voice pipe up, asking if he can see the kitty, but Selene gently informs him that Fear is very anxious to be at the vet and is too scared to play with right now. The little boy talks avidly about his turtle, who is getting a ‘check-up’. Then something thumps at the box, and his small voice rings out in assurance that everything is going to be fine.

 His mother apologizes.

 “It’s okay,” Selene says, before letting out a long breath. “Of course,” she says, more quietly, afterwards. “The one time I bring you, it’s all kids and dogs, it couldn’t just be chinchillas like it was last time…”

 There is the sound of a door opening, then.

 A scrambling of paws on smooth floor and loud barking, heavy breathing, like a beast the size of a small dragon has just erupted into the room.

 “Oh no, Lady!”

 The Trap Box is rocked as something massive attacks! Fear hears the breaths so close that for a moment, they think the box is being swallowed whole. They yowl in alarm, digging in their claws and summoning up some magic, before they are jostled again.

 “SERIOUSLY?!” Selene exclaims.

 “I’m so sorry, miss, she’s friendly I promise, she’s just excitable! Purebred mabaris, you know, they’re too smart for their own good and they have all this energy when they’re young. She’s still just a year old-”

 “GET HER OFF!”

 “Yeah, yeah, it’s okay, I’ve got her. She won’t bite. Come on, Lady, let’s go…”

 Fear has no direction for their magic, yet. No target. But just as they’re about to blast the towel off of the door, so they can find one, the attack seems to come to an end. The scrambling claws are drawn further away. Barking becomes whining. The stranger jokes that ‘Lady’ must be very interested in whatever Selene has with her, while Selene suddenly goes back to saying calming things. She lefts the sweater and smiles down at Fear through the visible slat.

 “It’s okay!” she tells them. “We’re okay! Just a lot of visitors. Like at the shop!”

 Fear trembles. Ready for anything, now, but only in the worst way.

 “Selene?” Another stranger calls. “You can come in now!”

 “Thank fuck,” Selene murmurs. They move again, but Fear cannot see anything, now. They are just trapped in the dark box, jostling slightly with Selene’s steps. Until they are settled onto some kind of surface. Then the towel is taken from the door again, and a stranger peers at them. Elven. Smiling. The Vetarinian, they suspect. She makes a soft coo sound.

 “Oh, poor thing. You’re terrified, hm? Let’s get this over with quick then.”

 Fear tries to make themselves as small a target as possible.

 The door to the Trap Box is opened.

 Another trap, they think. They are meant to take the opening, and come out. But if they don’t, then they are an easy target, too. There is no way to evade anything in the box. They only have one chance, then. They bolt through the opening, only to be foiled again by the towel. The strange elf picks them up. Fear hisses in protest, struggling, but they have a very firm grip. Selene is nearby, saying something. They cannot hear it over the roar of blood in their ears, as they brace themselves and wonder if they will have to transform in order to attack…

 The Vetarinian settles them onto a smooth surface.

 Selene speaks with the Vetarinian. The towel is removed. Fear has troubles keeping track of what is said, as they focus keenly on how the stranger is moving, and try to find places to hide or escape to in the odd room with its silver floors and tan counters. Fear is poked and prodded and has lights shined on them, they do not like it; when Selene moves to hold them, they latch onto her. Consolidating them into a single defensive unit, so that if or when they need to use magic to summon a barrier or offensive spell, Fear can protect them both. They Vetarinian has brisk, firm hands, covered by gloves. Fear sinks their claws into Selene’s shirt, and dislikes it most when their mouth is opened and their teeth and gums examined.

 “You should put them down, they might bite like this when I put in the needle,” the Vetarinian says.

 Needle?

 What needle?!

 Fear summons up dim recollections of the others recounting a single, small puncture wound. Though they had not seemed to suffer ill-affects, Fear might be an exception. Something could go awry. Needles are dangerous, they have seen it on the Light Box!

 “It’s fine,” Selene says. “They don’t bite.”

 “Well…”

 “I’ll deal with it.”

 “Hold their head, at least.”

 Selene pets their head, and Fear turns as they hear something crinkling open. They do not see the needle. They feel something prick at their back, like an errant claw or a bug. When they hiss, though, the pain withdraws. Their claws sink into Selene’s bra straps, and her petting increases.

 “Good job,” she tells them. “Good job, what a good cat you are…”

 Fear glares at the Vetarinian, and refuses to be dislodged from where they have secured themselves against Selene.

 “Well, this one seems as healthy as all the others,” the stranger proclaims. “But based on what you’ve described, I think you’re right about it being Feline Anxiety. It’s not uncommon, even among cats who haven’t been strays. I’m going to give you a prescription…”

 Fear’s ears are so flat against their head that when the Vetarinian turns, they have troubles hearing them any further. They move towards a Light Box, and type in something that is printed out, like a receipt, except larger. Selene tries to coax Fear back into the Trap Box, which they are not going to do. They tear several holes into her shirt before she decides to put the sweater on over both of them instead. The warm, Selene-smelling fabric settles over Fear’s back, but leaves their head to peer up from the collar. Selene wraps an arm securely around them, and tells the Vetarinian she will ‘sort them out’, when the other woman asks if she would like assistance.

 Selene puts the large Prescription Receipt into her purse. She carries in and the Trap Box in her free hand, and then they go back out into the room they were in before. The little vashoth boy stares at Fear, while Selene makes some kind of transaction with the young elf behind the counter. At least until he and his mother and their turtle-box are summoned into the room. Then Selene carries Fear back outside.

 It is less harrowing to travel when they are not trapped.

 Fear closes their eyes as they settle onto the bench. Selene rubs their back through the sweater, and whispers apologies, and insists that they are a very good cat who is very brave and who will not have to do that again. She makes one more attempt to get them back into the Trap Box before another rumbling, monstrous transport comes, but Fear does not think that is a good idea. They keep their claws firmly embedded in her bra straps.

 Selene takes them onto the transport in her sweater instead. The driver protests that Fear should be in the Trap Box, but Selene assures him that they will keep a firm hand on Fear and after some cajoling, they are not waylaid further. The transport seems emptier this time, too. Fear keeps a watchful lookout, as the streets go by through the window.

 Somehow, they manage to make it home without any further attacks.

 As soon as they are in the shop, Fear lets go of Selene and runs off to find a good hiding spot. They climb up one of the tall bookshelves and wedge themselves into a shadow at the top, near the back wall of the most quiet part of the store. Selene talks with Marassal briefly, then goes upstairs. The others come down, eager to see Fear. Deceit launches themselves up the shelves and nuzzles at them, while Affection meows protests because they cannot climb so high. Dirthamen and Des remain at the bottom, too, simply checking. Listening as Fear describes the harrowing journey.

 Huh, Des says. That sounds much more interesting than when I went.

 Lucky me, Fear drawls.

 Selene comes back, then, and has a new toy and a small dish full of Fear’s favourite tuna. The fresh kind. They are wary of another trap, though, and do not come down. When Selene sets the dish down, and moves away from it a little, Affection eats the tuna. Selene scolds them, then sighs and tosses the toy up to Fear. Or attempts to. It slips and falls back to the floor with a soft jangle, only to be scooped up by Des.

 Selene scolds Des, too, but he carries the offering up and puts it with Fear and Deceit, and then Selene makes her sounds for when she thinks they are being endearing instead.

 Fear stays up on top of the bookshelf until it is closing time. They come down, reluctantly, with some cajoling from Deceit, but then dash swiftly back up the stairs and into the apartment. Rushing to their best lookout post in their closet, with its view of the bedroom window. They skip dinner, having no desire to eat right now. After a few hours, Selene comes and sets their bowl of food down in front of the closet, and sits on the edge of her bed.

 “Come on,” she says. “We’re back home, it’s alright. Come have dinner!”

 Fear declines.

 Selene is being unusually persistent, however. She scoops Affection up when they try and eat Fear’s dinner, and cuddles them in her lap instead. Then she does the same to Dirthamen, too - not that he seemed intent on eating Fear’s food anyway.

 She sighs when Deceit comes in, and admonishes them not to eat Fear’s food. Deceit just clambers up to the top of the closet, though.

 Just eat, they suggest to Fear.

 Not interested.

 She’s going to worry if you don’t. Living things eat food every day.

 I ate this morning.

 Deceit subsides, with a mental sigh. Fear presses firmly against their side, and waits for Selene to give up.

 Eventually she does. She takes the bowl of food and announces that it is Fear’s food, and that they can have it whenever they come down. Then she goes into the living room, to watch the last half of her favourite show. Fear remains at their post, and listens to the distant murmur of the Light Box, as Deceit opts to stay with them for now. Des and Affection play; Dirthamen, presumably, is in his usual spot on Selene’s lap.

 Fear listens, but after a while they find they are twitchy with not seeing. Still too highly-strung. They jump down, Deceit trailing after them, and make their way into the living room. Their tail swishes with lingering agitation. They have scarcely ensconced themselves in their Living Room Lookout post, though, before Selene nudges Dirthamen off of her lap and gets up. She comes back a moment later, though, with Fear’s food. They blink as she settles it on top of the bookcase with them.

 Persistent, they tsk.

 Told you, Deceit replies.

 Fear sighs, and makes their own capitulation. They keep one eye on the living room as they eat. The food is good. More of their favourite tuna, in fact. There is part of it that they dislike, though, which is a small white seed. Chalky, oddly sweet on their tongue. Fear spits it out into a corner of their dish, and finishes the tuna. When they are done, Selene comes and retrieves the empty bowl.

 She sighs at the chalky seed.

 “I guess that was a long shot, huh?”

 Fear does not know what she means. But after a moment, they suppose they can reciprocate the gesture. They know what it is like to be worried, after all. So they inch forward, and press their nose to her hand. Selene pauses, and then pets at their head. Fear nuzzles her palm. They know she did her best to keep them safe. Harrowing as that experience was… she succeeded, too.

 At least, provided that the prick of pain in their back was not some kind of long-acting flesh-devouring curse that will destroy them slowly over the coming months.

 They they withdraw closer to the wall again, and consider that possibility as they wait for bedtime to come.

[taotrooper]

Breath of the Wild rambling

I’ve done two Divine Beasts already (yeah, I know, slow, but consider that my brother also plays and the WiiU is in his room) so might as well talk about stuff. Spoilers for Zora’s Domain and Goron City.

A summary: it’s so good and there’s lore and right in the feels.

Gameplay wise I’m kinda bad at it but I’m managing! This is the first sandboxy open world I play since I actually feel too anxious about too much freedom. Give me a purpose and an almost linear plot or I get overwhelmed! I don’t mind if the world is small! So yeah, I was pretty nervous to start this game and I still am. I haven’t explored that much since I’m itching for more story and also I suck at combat and stealth. But despite that, I’ve been having fun. Even if it’s wearing a Skyrim-ish makeup, this is Hyrule.

It’s much less post-apocalyptic than I feared, it’s vibrant and full of colors and people and hope. So it helps! Shit might be out to kill me, but everything else is cute as fuck.

You know what I love? THE LORE. The Sheikah have always fascinate me and this game is all about them and the stuff they’ve done, so I’m fucking glad. Kakariko is a literal hidden ninja village! There are evil rogue Sheikah assassins! (This game has put a lot of Japanese stuff into it, Aonuma gives no fucks because he knows the West will love it anyway.) But yes, the Sheikah! I can’t fucking believe their solution was “well, there’s some animal-shaped mechas buried from thousands of years ago so let’s start digging.” Mechas that are so large they’re ships and actual dungeons. I expected technology shenanigans but the Divine Beasts and the Champions are so anime and so damn cool.

I also realize that I have more love for the Sheikah ladies because I can’t recall any male Sheikah name, but then I’m like IMPA!! PAYA!! PURAH!! AAAAAH! I love those three! Hell yeah, the mad scientist that looks younger than she is was a woman this time! I rarely see this trope in female characters so yasss.

I have one registered horse! Her name is Midnight and she’s black with a white spot on her forehead. Yup. Never use her because I’m always too far from stables.

Can I say that I really love the Zoras and all their lore and culture in this game? I’ve told my brother that Zoras feel like elves to me. Ethereal, elegant, proud, surrounded by beautiful architecture, longer lifespan than Hylians... They’re shark elves, okay? Just like the Sheikah, they got pretty fleshed out and that’s so cool.

AND THE ROYAL SIBLINGS. I love them both. Mipha was so pretty and a cutie and my heart breaks over her love for Link and the way her death made everyone so sad. She’s such a good princess and so kind and a healer, yet she also rode a death mecha elephant and was a trident user so A+. I really want to know more about her. Then there’s literal dreamboat Sidon. I wasn’t expecting him to have the personality of an earnest shounen protagonist with that design?! Man, he’s so good even my bro is smitten by the anime nakama shark and his sparkly smile. And I can’t even shame you fishmongers for swamping with fanworks of this ship because it’s cute. Link/Sidon is cute and Link/Mipha is cute. Geez, I just skimmed through AO3 and it’s all fish!

Anyway. I saved this ganbatte gif for my darkest days.

If Zoras are fish elves, are Gorons rock dwarves? I’m a bit disappointed that Gorons didn’t get more new lore, after being spoiled by Sheikah and Zoras. I also would’ve wanted Yunobo to have more personality to get more attached to him, but he was mostly a stealth-escort mission and therefore it’s hard not to have a bitter coat towards him. It’s not like he’s annoying, but his part of the game was. He’s a cutie, however. I also like the boss. But yeah, I couldn’t get into current day Gorons the same way. Daruk, however, is great and I like him. Not because he’s more fleshed out than other Gorons though, but mostly because he’s basically a more serious Darunia and he felt like an oniichan figure to Link.

I’m going slow, but I watched all the cutscenes on Youtube. I do have opinions about Zelda, the king, and the other two Champions. But I’ll leave that for another rant since it’s spoilery as hell. I’ll say in advance that I really like Zelda’s personality and she fucked me up and I ship this Zelink a lot.

Anyway... my mind is already full of headcanons about Link’s life before becoming a knight and how he befriended the Zoras. I’m spiraling here and I have like 70% of Hyrule to explore yet, ouch.