#just because she’s a warrior with a sword doesn’t mean she has to be on her guard all the time

[arcadianmoonshadowjedi]

All of this and I also hope she gets to have some girl besties to do some fun girly stuff with too 🥺❤️

Ngl I really hope we get to see her become friends with Aanya next season, who even if she’s a tween/early teen, she’s still very mature for her age and I could totally see them hanging out whether it’s archery practice/friendly competition or just being total girls 😍❤️

I want Rayla to eat breakfast in bed and take long showers and sing into a hairbrush and get compliments from strangers.

I want her to experience crips bedsheets, pajamas hot out of the dryer, fresh warm cookies with a glass of milk, and soaps and perfumes that smell like the woods and seashells and cherry blossoms and lavender.

I want her to embrace her girly side and do her hair in a new way and wear a dress for no reason other than just because she wants to. I want her to look in the mirror and feel pretty.

I want her to read the exact type of romance novel that makes her happy-cry, curled up in an oversized chair with lots of fluffy pillows and a crackling fire nearby.

i want her to feel the spring breeze whooshing in her hair, the summer sun shining on her face, the autumn leaves crunching under her feet, the cozy hugged feeling of wrapping herself in a blanket in the winter cold.

I want her to spar with and joke with Soren. I want him to take her around town and show her all his favorite spots.

I want her to bake and play and laugh with Ezran. I want her to sing him to sleep and tell him stories of the silver grove and kiss him softly on the forehead.

I want her to listen to Callum rambling all excited about something with a fond smile on her face and warmth in her heart. I want her to complain to him about stupid things and tease him. I want her to curl up against him and watch him draw, talk to him about everything and anything, and feel his arms around her in the middle of the night and the gentle kisses being pressed against her cheek when he wakes up. I want them to lay and watch the stars twinkling until they get sleepy.

I want her to fiddle with her phoenix feather bracelet out of habit and smile down at her wrist every time she catches herself doing that.

I want her to hum under her breath and have good cries when she needs them and take deep breaths that fill her lungs and open up to her boys about things that hurt her and things that make her happy and lose her breath from giggling so hard. Keep letting her silly and happy side come out.

I want her to twirl barefoot in the grass under the moon.

I want her to heal. Remember she's loved after all the time she's spent alone.

I want her to finally be able to dance like no one's watching.

[dollopole]

There’s something so sweet about this scene. Not only Arthur is surrounded by his knights, his friends, he still can’t seem to forget there’s someone missing.

And the way he approaches Merlin is nothing funny or sarcastic: it’s pure concern, it’s love, it’s respect.

Merlin admits he’s scared, without thinking about it twice, because yes, this is Arthur, the same man who makes fun of me on a daily, but he’s also my best friend, the man I love, and who I could lose, but I can’t tell him, but, oh God, if he needs to know I don’t want him to die. I’m the most powerful warlock on earth, yet I’m scared of Morgana, because she wants to kill Arthur, and I’m weak when it comes to him, I’m scared I won’t be able to protect him as I should (especially since Merlin has heard the prophecy that spoke of Arthur’s bane).

I like Arthur’s stunned face. Merlin is referring to his life. “You don’t care you could die?” And not only Arthur is shocked by it, because he thought Merlin knew his reasonings by now, knew that Arthur would never risk losing his knights, losing Merlin. But Arthur doesn’t care as long as his men are safe, as long as Merlin’s safe (because, let’s be honest, this conversation is nothing but a way for them to tell each other how they feel towards one another, without exposing themselves to the danger of this revelation). And Arthur needs to make something clear:

“Only about you.” Because Arthur brings Merlin everywhere like he’s a solider, a warrior, someone who knows how to fight with a sword, who’s an asset to Camelot and the kingdom itself, so he considers him an equal, someone he can sit with on a lower step and chat with about his fears, because he can be vulnerable with Merlin. Arthur knows he’s safe with him.

Arthur includes Merlin in his speech, and this is something that could mean, “Oh, so Merlin isn’t a friend, isn’t a brother, he’s so much more.” This scene is so impactful, because it’s one of those rare moments where Arthur shows how deeply he can love, how much risk he’s willing to take to bring peace to his kingdom and to his people: to the ones he loves.

And he knows his knights, he knows Merlin won’t abandon him, because he has never done it, and Arthur truly believes Merlin has no reason to do it now, even if he’s scared. It’s as if Arthur is asking, just to make sure, just to have the confirmation that they think the same of it.

And they do:

I wish I didn’t understand how much I’m willing to risk, and have already risked for you. Because this is why I’m here: for you and only for you.

The self deprecating smile, because Merlin can’t back down, he never will. He’s so frightened, yet not even the prospect of battling against Morgana and her army will make him run.

He has Arthur to protect.

The way he smiles, it’s as if he’s saying, “Why didn’t I understand this sooner? Arthur’s just like me.” But it’s the fact that they told each other this, they know now, after ten years, that they’re willing to do anything and more for the other to stay safe, to be alive, even if one of them isn’t.

Merlin tells Arthur. He watches him intensely, because Arthur needs to understand. He’s honest.

Arthur gets it, and he’s finally happy. He’s relieved that Merlin won’t abandon him, that he will stay by his side, like he always is, protecting him, fighting with him, and helping him.

Arthur smiles at Merlin like he’s seeing him for the first time, and he falls in love with him just that tad bit more.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

this isn’t exactly a question, but has twisted wonderland ever expanded on gender norms before? I know in sunset savanna women seem to be highly respected, but it seems like that is a behavior unique to sunset savanna. It seems like gender discrimination might be uncommon in briar valley because Mallenoa was so respected by her subjects, but Sebek, silver, and grim were surprised to find out she was so self sufficient and powerful when they met her in Lilia’s dream (this is more my interpretation tho) . in the endless night event, silver tells a story about a warrior who taught for her country, which is a reference to mulan i think, and the person he is telling the story to is very surprised that the strong warrior is a girl. I think silver told that story to Leona but I don’t remember. I’ve heard that royal sword academy is a school boys and girls can both attend, but night raven college is one of the most prestigious magic schools out there, so it being boys only makes me wonder if gender is a part of magic politics, although we have been shown female characters who have high educations and magical abilities such as Mrs . Rosehearts

No, not really? It’s explicitly mentioned and touched upon in extended conversations maybe a total of… 3ish times. Of those instances, most are referring to the Sunset Savanna.

Gender norms and politics are some of those elements of world-building that can come off as really ham-fisted and preachy if the characters stop everything altogether and just start expositing about it. Thankfully, TWST largely doesn’t take that “telling” route and instead “shows” us what they mean through subtle implications.

Now, for the most part I think the gender norms of Twisted Wonderland are similar to the real world, but may be more progressive overall.

For one, Twisted Wonderland has many male characters (both in NRC and beyond it) who openly wear cosmetics. No one ever comments on men wearing makeup or dressing up in a negative light. Sometimes they complain about putting makeup on (ie the effort) or certain fashions they don’t vibe with but never do they say it’s “not manly” for them to put on makeup/perfume/jewelry, care about their clothing, etc. Even the characters we traditionally think of as masculine (Jack, Leona, etc.) wear eyeliner and eyeshadow, jewelry, or try new styles of clothing. Floyd and Ace express interest in fashion. Jamil cares about the quality of textiles and Kalim is willing to buy tons of jewelry for himself (and his classmates!!) if the mood strikes him. Rook regularly compliments people’s looks and Cater has an eye for aesthetics too. Lilia brags that he is “cute” and likes to show off his cuteness to others. Idia, Jade, and Sebek see a photo of what they believe is Epel in a dress and automatically accept it. And, of course, we cannot forget our queen Vil, who champions the idea of challenging and redefining gender norms. He also shares these ideals with Epel, who has been called out by Vil for having “outdated” gender norms. Given that Vil is such a popular celebrity (5 million followers on Magicam), I get the impression that the sentiments he extols is a popular way of thinking and is the direction that TWST society wants to move toward. (This is assuming that his fans are mainly younger people.) The boys often “dress up” and wear different makeup when visiting new places such as Silk City and and Clock Town, so it appears that a lot of Twisted Wonderland society that we’ve explored leans more liberal when to comes to gender expression.

Another detail I think is important is that many of the Great Seven—in fact, over half of them—are women. This is notable because oftentimes history glosses over the achievements and accomplishments of women in favor of their male peers. The fact that NRC and all of Twisted Wonderland seems to honor them in addition to their male counterparts says something. The G7 women aren’t even the only instance of female figures who shaped history. Azul and Floyd, for example, have brought up the Mermaid Princess on multiple occasions, talking about how her union with a human prince and personal efforts have strengthened the bond between land and sea.

Gendered terms to refer to mages exist, but according to Lilia, “witches” and “wizards” are outdated (they were used during the human/fae war era of ~400 years ago). Currently, most prefer to use the gender neutral terms “mage” or sometimes “sorcerer”.

There does not appear to be gender restrictions in terms of the modern day workforce either. We know of the boys’ family members who are great mages or hold significant power or status. Mrs. Rosehearts is an accomplished medical mage, Mrs. Ashengrotto runs the most popular restaurant in the Coral Sea and his grandmother is a benefactor to those in the neighborhood, Mrs. Shroud is STYX’s Chief Engineer, Meleanor is an integral leader of Briarland’s military forces, Maleficia is queen, etc. Even the women in more mundane roles play vital parts in their communities: Mrs. Clover is a baker alongside her husband, Mrs. Zigvolt assists her husband in his dental clinic, Granny Bucchi supports him as his only relative, Marja travels and helps sell her family’s produce, etc. There are many economic opportunities for women in this world.

Some may point out that NRC is a prestigious all-boys school, so there aren’t opportunities for women in education. The same goes for RSA, which is another prestigious all/ boys school. To that, I say… that’s because NRC is a very limited scope of magic education as a whole. We don’t know how many other schools are out there or if all magic schools are boys only. It’s not impossible to think that there may be girls only or mixed schools out there—but the NRC cast are the ones this game focuses on, so we view things from that perspective. I’d also like to add that we only see male students from other schools because of meta reasons: 1) there are limited game assets, so some details are inaccurately conveyed by the live 2D models, and 2) this is a joseimuke, a game with a predominantly male cast aimed at a target audience of women. It makes sense that there wouldn’t be many live 2D assets for random female mobs.

There isn’t any lore in-game or in other official materials which would imply that women are discriminated against in education or in the workforce. However, Twisted Wonderland at large seems to still perpetuate gender expectations and gendered traits as we understand them irl. There are some instances when the idea of women having traditionally feminine interests are mentioned: (Suitor Suit) Ace complains that his ex only liked romance and animal movies, disliked thrill rides, and preferred cute things and taking Magicam pics; (Birthday Boy) Cater also mentions his mother and older sisters having interests in making sweets and cute things. Additionally, as Anon mentions, in Endless Halloween Night, Silver shares the story of Mulan, who pretended to be a man to save her father from enlisting in the army. He told this tale to Jamil (not Leona!), who reacts with surprise when he learns that this capable warrior is a woman. At the same time, there are “masculine” expectations vaguely alluded to: Deuce states he is the “man” of his household, Epel of course worries about his manliness and sees Savanaclaw, the athletic dorm, as “cool”, etc.

Of course, these gender norms are not pervasive nor are they the same everywhere in Twisted Wonderland. One extreme is demonstrated through Epel, who holds the most regressive beliefs prior to Vil’s influence. This leads me to believe that Harveston is one of these areas that perpetuates these beliefs—and when you think about its population, it makes sense. Epel tells us that his hometown is largely elderly people, who are more likely to hold conservative worldviews compared to young people. The community, being small and located pretty far from nearby urban centers, is also exposed to fewer ideas that differ from what they perceive as their “norm”. These factors will naturally shape its residents and inform how they interact with and perceive others.

I actually think that Briar Valley would also be one of those areas with regressive gender norms for similar in-universe reasons as Harveston. Briar Valley is described to us as a region mainly populated by long-lived fae… meaning they are pretty old and more likely to be conservative. Not only that, but the area is very isolated and fae in general prefer to keep to their own kind. Briar Valley is also said to be opposed to change and new ideas and technology being introduced to their land. All of these factors suggest they would have more old-fashioned ideas about gender, not progressive ones. Meleanor and Maleficia may be widely respected and viewed as capable women, but I do not think it is fair to extrapolate how magically gifted monarchs of the Draconia bloodline are viewed to the governed population. It is more likely that they are the exception, not the rule. This better explains why Sebek and Silver, who are technically subjects of Briar Valley, are surprised to learn of a powerful princess. Their shock, as well as how Lilia describes human princesses as being meek and needing protection, also implies the usual gender norms. Given that humans seem to be the majority race in Twisted Wonderland, it means those gender expectations were predominant at the time.

The Sunset Savanna is the only country we know of at the moment where women are noted to be viewed differently. According to Leona, he “respects women” since the women back in his home country are physically stronger and stronger-willed than men. (This may be a reference to how irl lionesses do most of the hunting.) It’s not uncommon to see women in high-ranking warrior or guard positions because of this. This implies that the gender roles are somewhat reversed here; women are the ones expected to be strong, not men.

Slight tangent here: I don’t particularly subscribe to the idea that “strong” women are somehow better or more deserving of praise than “weak” women. It’s a fallacy that I see perpetuated way too often in media. True feminism does not mean demonizing what is seen as traditionally “feminine”, nor does it mean women can only be independent or strong by acting in traditionally “masculine” ways. Feminism means not judging or holding back women from pursuing whatever it is they want to do, be it a career of their own, homemaking, or anything in between. Women can be strong and admirable no matter what they choose to do with their lives.

Okay, so Twisted Wonderland does operate on gender norms—but that does NOT inherently mean that Twisted Wonderland is a sexist hellscape. Gender discrimination is on a spectrum, and we’ve yet to see any blatantly regressive demands be taken as anything of real merit in TWST. If anything, they get clowned on and told off as much as Sebek is for his anti-human sentiments. And, as I’ve pointed out earlier, Twisted Wonderland on the whole appears to accept and normalizes things that may not be widely accepted irl— namely, men in makeup or in traditionally feminine fashion. There’s also many examples we can look to of regular women in power or jobs across the world of Twisted Wonderland.

We also need to remember that TWST was penned by people who also live in a society of gender norms, so it’s expected for their lived experiences to also bleed into the worlds they create. It doesn’t make them bad people, it just makes them human. They write what they know and also play around with the ideas of different societies—those that skew in both directions (as we see with Harveston vs Sunset Savanna).

[azriels-human]

In Your Dreams: II ☁️🌙☁️

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Heyy😖 sorry for the long delay. Lowkey, I don’t like using Y/n but since it’s more Azriel’s POV we just have to put up with it. God gives his strongest battles to his strongest warriors😔✊🏽

Summary: Az isn’t very fond of the newest member of the Night Court so much so that you even plague his dreams.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI.

Part I

Azriel could help but let his mind wander to that dream. To the way you looked at his mercy and how his name sounded coming from your lips. Those lush rosy lips.

THUMP

Azriel hits the ground forcefully, his sword flying out of sight.

Cassian rolls his eyes and extends a hand to his brother. “What the hells is it? You’re distracted this morning.”

Azriel takes his hand, standing to his feet. “Nothing.”

Cassian tugs Azriel’s hand and gives him a knowing look. “Is it the stuff with Elain?”

Azriel’s brow pinches in confusion for just a second before he answers. “No. There is no ‘stuff’ with Elain.”

As Rhysand had made it very clear to him.

For a moment he’d forgotten of the incident he shared with the Archeron sister. Of course, he has thought of her many times since but she is not what plagued his thoughts this morning.

It was you, quite the opposite, in fact.

While Elain is the picture of innocent loveliness and blooming roses, you are the essence of grim allure. The thorns of those roses.

Shit, he even forgot that he promised to take Elain to her favorite bakery as soon as he returned from his mission. He’d been so focused on not focusing on you that he hadn’t even tried to find her at all yesterday.

Another thing he adds to the mental list of reasons not to like you.

“Then what is it?” Cassian asks, readying his blade for more action while Azriel picks up his own.

Though his distaste for you is apparent, he hasn’t spoken of you to anyone but Rhysand. The only reason he ever does is to get him to do something about you. What that something is, he’s not too sure but anything works at this point.

“I have to take…Y/N with me on a mission tomorrow.” Your name feels so foreign on his tongue, chilling, as if speaking it would summon you.

Cassian shrugs, gesturing for Azriel to strike him first in their new round of training and he does. The two begin to spar once more.

“What of it?” Cassian asks dodging Azriel’s attacks.

“Only that I cannot stand the sight or smell or idea of her.” Az grunts.

“Yeah, I kind of got that.” Cass chuckles between blows. “Remind me why? is it because she out sneaked you?”

“She did not out sneak me!” Azriel growls. “Something is just off about her.”

“Like?”

“Like how bleak and foreboding she is.”

Cassian laughs, “I can’t argue with that. She’s definitely intimidating at first.”

“At first?”

“Well once I got to know her, I discovered that’s she’s actually pretty interesting.” Cassian swings his sword.

“Got to know her?” Cassians attack misses.

“Yeah. Shes kind of like you in that sense.”

Az staggers back, not from Cassian’s attacks but from utter shock. The accusation of being anything like you. “What do you mean by that? I’m not like her at all.”

“Just that some people aren’t as scary as they look.” Cassian doesn’t bother to strike Azriel in his baffled state.

Azriel really didn’t know what to make of it all, couldn’t picture you smiling and chatting away with Cassian. You’re all but a stonewall whenever he’s seen you. But Cassian wouldn’t just lie for the fun of it. Unless…

“Did Rhysand tell you to say that?” Azriel runs his hands through his hair, wiping the sweat that drips from his curled tips.

He doesn’t wait for an answer before returning his training sword to its proper area, Cassian in suit.

“Why would he?”

“Well he seems quite adamant on me getting along with her.”

“Maybe you should. She’s-”

“I get it Cass. Shes your new best friend but that certainly does not mean she has to be mine.” Azriel rolls his eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a promise to keep.”

.☁️🌙☁️.

Thankfully, Elain wasn’t upset with Azriel’s forgetfulness, allowing him to escort her to her favorite bakery and even stopping by a jewelry shop for some new earrings.

“What do you think of these?” Elain asks pointing to a pair of small pearls.

Azriel leans forward, inspecting the timeless jewelry. “They’re very nice.”

Elain nods at the shop owner who adds them to the small pile of jewels she’s picked. “Maybe one more pair?” Elain sheepishly smiles.

Azriel nods. “Take your time.”

“How about you pick them?” Elain suggests. “They’re all so beautiful, I can’t choose.”

The idea makes Azriel smile at the middle Archeron sister. That she might like to wear something he chose for her.

Azriel scratched his chin examining the rows of elegant and extravagant jewelry. Gold, silver, diamonds, all kinds of jewelry that he knows she would appreciate but there is one piece that calls to him.

A unique piece for sure, nothing like he’d ever seen before. A silver pair of earrings with a stone so black it’s like looking into a void and the tiniest diamonds scattered across it like stars.

However, Elain is not who came to mind upon seeing them. It’s you.

The earrings would go flawlessly with your usual pure black attire but it’s the way they make him feel like he’s looking right at you.

His chest tightens. Daunting yet fascinating.

He hates himself for letting you distract him from Elain again. You, who could not be anymore different, should be far from his thoughts right now.

You steal his siphon, his thoughts, his dreams and he detests it. He just wants to return to the life he had before he knew of your existence.

“You seem to like those.” Elain’s tranquil voice brings Azriel out of his thoughts. “I’ll take them.”

The shop owner reaches for the unnerving jewels but Azriel stops him. “No, not those. The ones next to it.”

Azriel hadn’t even taken notice in the plain, diamond studs beside them and mentally cursed you for keeping him from finding a beautiful pair for Elain.

Elain nods and the owner rings her up.

The walk back to the house is silent. Azriel’s thoughts consisting of half trying not to replay his dream of you grinding on his cock and half wondering where the tension between he and Elain is coming from.

Did she know he was thinking of you when he saw the earrings? Was she upset that he’d chosen something so boring for her?

Whatever the reason, it’s your fault for being a parasite in his brain.

“You seem distracted lately.” Elain breaks the silence between them.

Distracted. The same thing Cassian had said this morning and what he is trying so hard not to let you do to him.

“It’s nothing. Just thinking about my assignment tomorrow.” It wasn’t a lie. You are the most troubling part of his work now too.

“Right, you’re going to the Hewn City with Y/n.”

Azriel’s eyes almost leave his skull at Elain’s comment. You are not a topic he EVER needs to speak of with Elain.

Elain giggles, “She told me about it.”

“You…talk to her?” Azriel asks incredulously. It’s one thing to hear that Cassian has spoken to her but Elain? Sweet, sunshine Elain?

Elain nods, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Azriel shakes his head. It felt like worlds colliding. World’s he didn’t want to mix at all.

It was foolish of him to believe Elain wouldn’t talk to you though. Despite her months of casting everyone out, Elain is kind hearted.

Even before the cauldron, when she was afraid of him, she still did her best to be polite.

“I just assumed she didn’t speak to anyone.”

Again, Elain laughs. “She gets along quite well with everyone.”

Another piece of shocking information. “Everyone?”

Elain nods. “I won’t lie, she’s a bit scary when she’s quiet, but one day she asked to join me while baking and I got to know her a bit.”

You approached her? Azriel didn’t think he could be anymore shocked but there he was his jaw practically on the floor.

That isn’t at all like what he imagined you to be like. With your cold and strange disposition, he couldn’t even imagine you and Elain in the same room, let alone baking together.

Now, Azriel by no means believes Elain to be a liar but the thought of you actually getting along with his family is so…bizarre. He needs to know for himself to believe it. So he set forth on his own personal mission.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Upon his departure from Elain at the House, Azriel begins the search for his first witness, Mor.

He beelines for her room, knocking on her door a bit too urgently.

She’ll tell me him the truth.

Mor opens her door, brow pinched in slight annoyance. “Want to knock a bit louder?”

“Have you spoken to Y/n?” Azriel wastes no time on formalities or her mood.

“About?” Mor shrugs.

“Anything. Anything at all.” Azriel sighs, growing impatient. He needs answers now, before he’s stuck with you for Gods know how long tomorrow.

“Uh…yes?” Mor’s irritation turning into confusion.

“And?”

She shakes her head, her confusion only furthering. “And what? I don’t know what you’re asking me, Az.”

“What do you think of her? What did you talk about?” Azriel runs a hand through his hair trying to calm his edge as he realizes how frantic he is coming off.

Mor taps her finger against her chin. “She’s great! We talk about clothes, we talk about clubs, we talk about boys.” Mor wiggles her eyebrows.

Boys? He didn’t care about that. He wants to know what she knows about you.

Yet he couldn’t help himself.

“What ‘boys’?” Azriel glances down the hallway, as if you’d appear there, staring him down as you always do. “Anyone I should be concerned about?”

Mor chuckles and rolls her eyes. “None. Unless you’re concerned with who she may share a bed with.”

Something like nausea twist in his gut. He did not need to know that. He will absolutely never need to know that.

“I am most definitely not. I mean, is there anything suspicious about her? Anything I should know?” Azriel shakes the thought from his head.

“Nope. She seems alright to me. Anymore questions that you can find out for yourself?”

Azriel resists the urge to learn every detail she knows and shakes his head, bidding her a good evening and setting off to search for the next subject to his questions. If there’s anyone that will tell him what he wants to hear, it’s Nesta.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel finds Nesta lounging in the den, a book (that she obviously is very concentrated on) in hand.

Nesta isn’t fond of being interrupted while reading but this is important and time sensitive. He needs to know who it is he’s going to be stuck with.

Azriel clears his throat, stepping into the den. Nesta continues to read.

He clears his throat again, a bit louder this time.

“I’m busy.” Her eyes remain in the book.

“What do you think of Y/n.” Azriel decides it’s might be worse to try and ease her into conversation.

To his surprise, she actually looks up. A smirk stretches across her lips as she puts her book down and crosses her arms. “Why the sudden interest? I didn’t think you liked the poor girl.”

Poor girl? Nesta thinks you’re the victim here? He’s the one you stole from.

“That doesn’t matter. Do you like her or do you not?” Azriel asks, doubt begins to fill the hope he held out for anyone else to feel what he feels.

Nesta waves him off. “If you’re not going to tell me, then I’m not going to have answers.”

Azriel’s patience is worn thin at this point. He has a feeling he knows her answer. He just wants to rip the band aid off.

“My only interest is making sure she isn’t going to stab me in my sleep when I take her with me on my assignment tomorrow.” His hands rest on his hips, awaiting Nesta’s response.

Nesta scoffs. “I doubt that. Though it seems you might be the one doing the stabbing. You look like you’re going insane.”

“I feel like I am.” Azriel slumps onto the sofa across from Nesta and burries his face into his palms.

He doesn’t know what to think and he has yet to see any of this ‘great’ personality as Mor had described you. Anytime he has been around you, you’ve always been tucked away in a corner, languishing in your own mysterious presence.

“Stop being so stubborn and talk to her. Maybe then you won’t run away like a scared child when you see her.” Nesta pokes fun at him but he couldn’t deny that he mostly feels the need to flee when you are around.

Speaking to you does not sound appealing, not only because you seem as interesting as watching paint dry, but mostly because of how you make him feel.

Being face to face with you always results in his every nerve being on fire and a gripping ache in his abdomen that won’t go away. He’s on high alert, anxious that you’ll break from your spine chilling stillness and put your cunning skills to use.

You are a source of stress that he does not know how to relieve. Even after learning that you’ve earned his family’s affection, he can’t settle the unease that you stir in him.

But he’s afraid everyone is right. Maybe it’s best for him to grow a pair and face the discomfort to try and alleviate some it at least.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel hesitantly searches for you throughout the rest of the evening and night, occasionally gathering the courage to peak into a room to see if you are there.

He has faced beasts and armies and kings yet facing you is what terrifies him?

The walk to the library felt long in the dead silent house. Not even Cassian’s snores can be heard from here and it only makes Azriel more nervous.

Since he could not find you anywhere else, the library seems to be where you hide at night.

He silently creeps into the library. The illumination of moonlight from the back of the room proves him right as he slips past the row of bookcases until he reaches the now open balcony.

There you were lying on the bench, eyes closed, hands tucked tightly to your chest.

Now he’s sure you are insane. Sleeping on a hard bench in the cold night.

Azriel stalks towards you, unsure if he should wake you or let you freeze the death. Maybe that’ll solve this whole thing.

But once again he just can’t walk away.

Your skin seems to glow in the moonlight and each strand of your hair glitters in the gentle night breeze. Peace replaces your usual stone features.

Heat pulses through his veins and his every nerve begins to vibrate with alarm just as he knew they would. Except there was something more.

It’s not only that he can’t leave but its as if once he gets close enough to smell you, to notice the details of your being and to be able to reach out and touch you, he is lost to an unseen enchantment that only draws him closer.

Azriel looks down over your sleeping form. His eyes roam over your nightgown clad figure. The hem, riding dangerously up your thigh, would do absolutely nothing to cover your center if you move half an inch.

Visions of his degenerate dream flit through his mind, the lewd things he did to you. The sound of your breathless moans and the feeling of your tight pussy contracting around his fingers as you came.

Unwelcomed desire pinches deep in his stomach. Despite his best attempt to push down the carnal feeling, all is for not when his eyes lock onto your lips.

Pink and plump and parted in your slumber, he cannot look away, can’t stop the vulgar thoughts flooding his mind. Hypnotized, his fingers twitch with the need to touch, to feel, to know.

Cauldron, he needs to know.

“Do you enjoy watching people sleep?”

Azriel jumps back as his heartbeat sky rockets. What the hells is wrong with you!?

You look up at him through your lashes. “Well?”

What is he even supposed to say? There is no way to make staring at someone while they sleep sound normal.

Azriel swallows, “I was making sure you weren’t up to anything.” Turning the tables of accusations is one way.

Your brow quirks up. “Oh? And what exactly do you think I’d be up to?”

Azriel shakes his head as if it should be obvious. “Stealing.”

“Stealing? With my eyes closed?” You scratch your chin. “Though I probably could from you.”

Lightning strikes his pride. “You could not. Even the worst of the worst get lucky from time to time.”

The corner of your tempting lips curl into a smirk and a chuckle escapes them. You laughed. He made you laugh. Not at all intentional but still the sound weaves its way into the deepest corner of his mind, engraving its melody for what he knows will be eternity.

He wants to hear it again.

“Okay. So what would I be stealing?” You sit up. Azriel doesn’t miss the way your soft thighs glide against each other as you cross your legs.

“Whatever you can get your little hands on.” Azriel sneers, already regretting letting everyone influence him to speak with you.

“Hm. Well, I can get these ‘little hands’ wrapped around just about anything. Sounds like you’ve got trouble then.” The smirk on your lips turns devious, like a cat toying with a mouse.

Your choice of words incite that thrill in him again. The same one when he retrieved his siphon. The same one he felt fucking you with his fingers in his dream.

“Say I was stealing, what would you do to me?” You blink once, twice.

Azriel couldn’t ignore the thrum of his heart. Just as you had in his dream, you feign innocence. Chin tilted down as you watch him behind long fluttering lashes. “I’d…”

You did not want to know what he’d do to you. What he had done to you.

For stealing he’d send you somewhere as dark and cold as you. For your arrogant attitude, it would involve three fingers in your soaking cunt and your ass grinding on his throbbing cock.

“Rhysand would lock you away.” Azriel keeps himself out of the scenario completely. He’ll be damned if he shows you just how much your provocative choice of words affect him.

“He already didn’t do that.” You pout. His frown must be more apparent than he thought it to be because your vacant eyes fill with a devilish amusement.

It’s blow after blow at his dignity as a spy master. Azriel’s ego was never high to begin with but your words get under his skin. “Yeah, instead he decided to give a very important job to a less than impressive thief.”

You chuckle again.

Azriel scoffs. Why are you laughing at his jabs at you? Why aren’t you as annoyed and desperate to end this conversation as he is?

“I beg to differ. I did impress the High Lord.” You lean forward just an inch. An inch that seems like a mile to Azriel. “And I think I impressed you too.”

“Impressed by a common thief from the slums of the Hewn City?” Azriel wanted to hit where it hurt, to knock you off your high horse.

“Where I’m from you’re either a thief or a whore.” You shrug, brushing your hair over your shoulder. “I chose thief.”

The persistent ache deepens within him as he recalls the noises you made in his dream. The way you begged to feel his fingers and make a mess of you. The way he had made you his whore.

“Maybe you would have been better at the latter.” Azriel steadies his breaths, unsure if he truly meant offense. He wanted to mean it that way but his crude memories begin to blur that line between hate and desire.

You stand from the bench, eyes never leaving his with their crushing weight. “You think I’d make a good whore?”

You take a step towards him only this time he did not step back. You tilt your chin up, a knowing look dances across your expression.

“More than a thief.”

“Why?” You ask.

Why not? Is what he wanted to say. How could you not when you made such tempting noises and felt so fucking good against him.

Upon his lack of response, your sultry smirk returns. “Is it my body? My face?”

Both. Your figure is one thing but your face is a whole other. Your darkened eyes stare into his soul, cheeks tinted pink from the pinch of the cold air and your pretty lips just waiting to be kissed.

Gods, you’re incredibly beautiful. Every time he sees you, he notices something new. More and more beautiful each time.

Azriel can’t help but stare, unable to say the words he wished to say. All he could focus on is how badly he wants your hand on his chest. For it to travel lower and lower until he stops you. For his all consuming dream to become a reality.

“Tell me what would make me a good whore.” You challenge.

He couldn’t think. With you standing so close he can feel the warmth of your skin through his leathers. He could touch you, the real you, only inches apart.

He could know how soft your kiss is in a split second.

His eyes flit to your lips then back to your magnetic eyes.

Suddenly you burst into laughter. Full blown laughter as you clutch your chest from the hysterics.

Azriel steps back in surprise.

“Don’t tell me you want a kiss, spy master?” Your lips curled back in a full grin, perfect teeth gleaming back at him.

A mix of humiliation and awe swirl through his every sense. Cruel splendor you are.

You chuckle once more and wink at him as you make your way out. “In your dreams.”

If only you knew. He doesn’t know if he’s furious or turned on but either way, he’ll make sure you pay for it tomorrow.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel plops down onto his bed, running his hands over his face, a deep sigh following.

What was he to do about you? That conversation went far worse than he anticipated. Instead of finding some kind of relief to his assumptions, he found that he wants to fuck you senseless. The attitude mixed with that silver tongue of yours is a lethal combination, cracking down on his hard exterior.

He only hopes you’ll stay silent so he can focus on the assignment instead of your lips.

His pants tighten at the thought of them. How your lips would look so good around him.

Azriel couldn’t help but squirm, the friction of his pants against his cock making him even harder inside them.

His hands don’t leave his face, embarrassment and desire flood his senses.

His hips move in slow, deep circles. The soft fabric of his briefs caressing him.

“Having fun by yourself, Shadowsinger?” Azriel silently gasps, sitting up to see you stood in the center of his bedroom. Nightgown clinging to your body, loose hair swaying at you tilt your head to the side.

“Get out.” Azriel growls. As much as he tries to avoid you, one conversation has you following him around like a lost puppy?

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You pout.

“Leave.” Azriel points to his door. Heart racing, from surprise or lust he doesn’t know.

You shake your head, silky thighs brushing against each other as you move towards him. “You don’t want me to leave.”

“Leave.” Azriel repeats hardly over a whisper, chest visibly rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“You don’t want me to leave.” You match his volume. Your condescending tone mocking his decaying self control as you come to a halt right between his thighs.

You look down at him with those dark eyes. Words, thoughts, air all elude him as you lower yourself.

Azriel’s eyes never leave yours, his lips part slightly in fascination at the sight you kneeled before him.

“Do you?” You ask virtuously.

Azriel subtly shakes his head

Your pouted lips morph into a wicked smirk. “Then tell me I’m better.”

Azriel blinks. Confusion trickling into his intoxicating lust. “What?”

“Tell me that I’m better.”

“A better what? Whore?”

You scoff a laugh. “Spy. Everyone thinks it already, just admit I’m better.”

The haze of infatuation decomposes into disdain. For only a second he forgot about that arrogance, that you aren’t this innocent, amazing person everyone thinks you to be. You’re rotten and he’ll make sure you know it. Tonight he’ll teach you.

Azriel roughly grips your jaw in his hand, jerking you closer to him. An inaudible squeak leaving your puckered lips as your eyes widen at the unexpected movement.

“You will never be a better spy than me. You’re hardly a good thief.” Azriel’s grip tightens, pushing your lips even more together. His index finger brushes over them before he presses it down hard to keep you silent. “I still think you’d make a better whore.”

Your muffled response is lost on him as he squeezes even harder. You flinch at the ache forming in your cheeks.

“You’re going to show me just how good of a whore you can be.” Azriel’s thumb caresses your jaw. You glare at him but it only earns you a wry smile. Seeing you start to become irate just as you make him every second of the day is so satisfying.

“Show me.” Azriel releases you with a shove of your face. He leans back slightly on his palm, it’s his turn to wear the arrogant smirk.

And it’s your turn to be speechless. You only sit there, jaw clenched and red with his finger prints, debating your next move. “Not until you give me what I want.”

Azriel’s smirk widens. “I don’t think you understand. You are going to give me everything that I want and you are going to take everything I give you. Every last inch.”

You sneer up at him, eye glaring with animosity. Yet you stay there on your knees for him.

“Come here.” He coos, gesturing you to lean closer. Hesitantly, you come closer. His eyes fixate on your mouth again as he brings his index and pointer finger to rest on your bottom lip. “Open.”

You don’t open. You only glare at him as his fingers play with your lips. Moving them side to side trying to find an entrance into your mouth.

“I said open.” Azriel growls growing impatient with your attitude.

You take a second, another before parting your lips slightly. Letting him slide his long jagged fingers into your mouth. They slide across your tongue, reaching even further until they touch the back of your throat. Knuckles pressed to your lips.

Your eyes squeeze shut holding back a gag, his fingers curling deep in your throat. “This is where I want my cock. All the way back here, baby.”

He pulls his drenched fingers from your throat, sending you into a coughing fit as you try catching your breath.

Azriel chuckles, completely taking pleasure in assaulting your pride. “Good whore. Now show me where it goes.”

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as you glare up at him. “Fuck you.”

Azriel frees himself from the confinement of his pants. His throbbing member eaking with need. You bite the inside of your cheek, contemplation in your stare.

You roll your eyes with a grimace before sticking out your tongue and dragging in from his base to his cum beaded tip.

Azriel takes in a sharp breath.

You roll your eyes again, taking his head into your mouth. Lazily and indifferent you bob your head around his tip.

Azriel scoffs, lacing his fingers through your hair and tugging you off of him. He leers down at you. “Don’t be a fucking brat. Suck my cock.”

He pulls you back down into him. Your soft whimper duly noted.

You wrap your mouth around his shaft, slowly sinking, throat stretching as he guides you further.

A strangled moan leaves Azriel when his head hits the back of your throat. You gag around him, clamping his stiffness.

His stomach tightens at the euphoric feeling. He can’t imagine you anywhere but here with his cock down your throat forever.

You go to pull away but his hand holds you down tightly.

“Not yet. Stay right there.” Azriel moans, grinding his hips into your face, wanting every inch of himself to be covered in your warm saliva. “Stay right fucking there.”

You gag again, reaching up and digging your nails into his thighs as his cock pulses in your throat. He groans pulling off of him again.

Your coughs are replaced by whines as you struggle to regain your breath. “Asshole.”

Azriel laughs at the image before him. Your cheeks pink from the pressure, drool dripping from your lips and eyes glossy. He reaches out, swiping his thumb over your tantalizing lips, spreading your spit across them.

You turn your head away, glaring daggers he knows you wish to impale him with at this very second. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Bullshit.” Azriel smirks. You raise a brow in question. “I think you’re bullshitting. You want my cock in your mouth. You want me to stretch that little throat of yours.”

Azriel gently caresses your jaw. Your eyes fluttering shut. “You want me to fuck your face until you’re covered in my cum.”

You open your half lidded eyes, chewing on your bottom lip. Unadulterated lust filling your gaze.

He could cum at this sight alone.

Azriel pushes your loose strands behind your ear and his hand slides to the back of your head, cradling you with affection. “Now suck it and make it yours, angel.”

You waste no time, taking him as far as you can, bobbing your head up and down, sucking and twisting and drooling all over him.

“Oh shit.” Azriel’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He grips your hair, not needing to guide you anymore. You devour him with an insatiable hunger, gagging and choking around him.

Azriel brings both hands to cup your face and hold it still. “F-fuck, look at me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, tears streaking your cheeks. His hips thrust up into your tight throat, wanting to be impossibly deeper in your warmth. “You look so good choking on my cock.”

Your nose crinkles as you smile and what he assumes is your muffled attempt at giggling vibrates around him. “So fucking beautiful.”

Azriel continues to drive himself into your mouth. Tension begins to build inside him, hips bucking as he starts to lose his pace in the heightening feeling.

“I’m close. Fuck!” Azriel pulls your mouth off of him. You whine at the sudden loss but quickly open wide and stick your tongue out with excitement.

Azriel groans taking his cock in his hand and stroking desperately as he tilts your head back. His tip brushing your tongue earning even more moans from the Shadowsinger.

Azriel lets out a long, breathy moan, feeling himself start to come undone. Shockwaves grip his entire body as hot white ribbons shoot across your tongue and face. A smile graces your lips as you hum in content.

Azriel gawks at his masterpiece in admiration.

You swipe your fingers over your cheek, gathering his seed and toying with it. You chuckle and he can’t help but do the same.

“I do make a good whore.” You smirk before leaning forward. Your eyes closing gently as you slowly tilt your head and come closer.

You were going to kiss him. Azriel’s heart beats even more rapidly. You were going to kiss him and he would finally know.

Azriel closes his own eyes, awaiting your lips.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel opens his eyes to see the ceiling. He sits up finding himself in the same position he had upon returning to his room last night.

Another dream? How? You were right there, making him cum.

Azriel sighs, making his way to the bathroom to clean up the mess he’d made of himself.

This is going to be the longest day ever.

Tag list:

@quinzzelx @mybestfriendmademe @quiettuba @kksbookstuff @bloodicka @lilah-asteria @honk4emoboyz

[dalishious]

Dragon Age: Origins is still great today, and you should give it a try

I want to preface this post with an important disclaimer: I am not about gatekeeping, and I think that ultimately, you should play or skip whatever Dragon Age games you want. If even after this post you feel like Dragon Age: Origins just isn’t for you, that’s fine! That doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the Dragon Age media you do want to consume, and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re any less valid a fan. But I personally adore Dragon Age: Origins to this day, and I would love to see more modern gamers give it a chance, despite it being from 2009.

It’s a great introduction to the world of Thedas

Dragon Age: Origins had the tall order of being the first in a potential franchise, yet it climbed those heights and beyond. It perfectly balances the need to explain the world setting and tell a story within that world at the same time, by organizing the plot into puzzle pieces. You, the protagonist, have to recruit different factions into your cause to save the kingdom of Ferelden, so each piece of the game has a different focus on those factions. It spoon-feeds the player information at an easy to understand and absorb pace.

Dragon Age: Origins also makes good use of codex entries for those of you who are big lore buffs and want even more information. Yet at the same time, it does not overly rely on the codex; all the most crucial parts of the lore that you need to know are included in your interactions with characters and plot.

The player gets to shape the story

The nature of those puzzle pieces also means that you have huge control over the story from start to finish, because the puzzle itself is shaped by you! The outcomes of each piece form the blueprint of the climax. The end of the game is reactive to the choices you make in the story throughout. (Mind you, a lot of those choices have been retconned in later games, but still, within the confines of Dragon Age: Origins itself, it’s still fun to see the outcomes of your decisions.)

The story itself is great

I would consider Dragon Age: Origins to have the most straightforward premise of all the Dragon Age games released thus far, with a strong identity linking the different main quests all together. You are a newly recruited Grey Warden, left to unite Ferelden against the big bad Blight after 99% of the Order within the nation is wiped out in a catastrophic battle. You may get caught up in dwarven politics, ancient curses, demonic possession, and plenty more along the way, but no matter where you find yourself, your motivation always falls back to that ultimate responsibility.

The characters are also great

Almost all the companions you’re able to collect along the way are very easy to love, or at least appreciate them for what they are.

Alistair is also a new grey warden. He is struggling with grief over the loss of his mentor, and the weight of having no control over his identity his whole life.

Morrigan is a witch who grew up isolated in the woods with no one but her abusive mother for company. Now she must learn to interact with others, and dependant on the player, perhaps even make a friend, lover… or enemy.

Leliana is a bard from Orlais, whose faith told her to assist the grey warden plight. But beneath the demure outward appearance, she has a much darker past she’s running away from.

Sten is a Qunari warrior who was taught that outside his culture, everything is backwards and nonsense, but he cannot return home until he has restored his soul by recovering his lost sword. Along the way, he may learn to appreciate or despise Ferelden.

Zevran was enslaved by the Antivan Crows as a child and made into an assassin. If the player can chip away at his nonchalant mask, they will find his past has left a lot more scars on him than he thought it safe to admit.

Wynne is a mage from the Circle who is struggling to deal with the nature of age, death, and life purpose.

Shale is a golem who was once under complete and total control by her former master, now learning what it’s like to be free, and wanting to uncover her forgotten past before losing that freedom.

Oghren is there too, unfortunately.

And the player character really feels like they are of your own creation. The choices you make, little and small, offer a lot to shape whatever kind of protagonist you want. Additionally, the benefit of starting the game with a different origin, and playing out that origin before getting recruited into the grey wardens, offers a lot of prompting to get into the roleplay!

The datedness can be easily upgraded with modding anyway

Do you find the combat clunky? There’s mods for that. Do you find the graphics too bland? There’s mods for that. Do you wish you could kiss Alistair as a man or Morrigan as a woman? There’s mods for that, too. Dragon Age: Origins is very easy to mod; most of them you just drop the files into your override folder and start playing. Otherwise, you use the DA Modder app for DAZIP files, which is also not that complicated.

A lot of people consider Skyrim to be dated without mods, too. I personally don’t think there’s anything wrong with appreciating the ability to mod a game, as a positive point.

If you want to play, make sure you use LAA though!

Large Address Aware is a must-have on PC for Dragon Age: Origins.

For GoG or EA App/Origin users: You can just run LAA like normal!

For Steam users: You need THIS first

[hawkinshorror94]

Headcannons for a Tav who exhausted after a day of staying home with the kids

(If you guys like these I'd like to make a second one with Wyll, Karlach, Zevlor, and Rolan.)

AN- Happy Birthday to me! I am highly intoxicated while posting this so sorry if it sucks ASS.

Minthara

-”My dear, why are our children making so much noise? I cannot hear myself think.”

-Finds you in absolute shambles over two unruly toddlers, one is crying because you gave her what he asked for and the other is practically hanging from the curtains.

-”In Menzoberranzan, a mother kills children who are bad, but I have grown quite fond of them and would hate for our children to meet an untimely demise at the end of a silver sword.” 

-Though you want to chide Minthara for threatening to kill the kids as a punishment it works, but you’ll definitely have to talk about it with her later

Gale

-“Why are you crying, are you alright, is she alright?” *Gale panic*

-Finds you in bed crying because of some awful postpartum.

-”My mother has been wanting to see her, I’ll bring her over there for a bit. You rest, you bathe, I’ll bring home food. I’ve got her. I’ve got you.”

-Gale bundles her up and makes sure you have everything that you need before he goes. When he comes back, he brings too many gifts from his mother and food for you. And of course, your favorite sweet treat.

Astarion

-“Are there gremishkas loose in our home?”

-Astarion wakes from trance around sundown to find you crying over a fussy teething dhampir and an equally whiny toddler who didn’t have a nap. 

-”Do you think we should go to the night market, little one? And I think your baby brother would also appreciate the night air as well” *Astarion with a baby bundled to his chest (with a sling) so he can always have a free hand in my guilty pleasure*

-When he comes back with both kids settled, he puts you to bed to rub your feet and tell you how much he appreciates you creating two miracles after he’s had such a miserable life.

Shadowheart

-”Come on boys, you can help mummy on the farm this afternoon.”

-Shadowheart wasn’t blind to your snippy tone with her and she also wasn’t blind to the problem either. 2 over ecstatic boys who were just over the moon that school was out for the summer. 

-”Tomorrow you all can help me tend to the plants and animals all day. Does that sound fun?” 

-Shadowheart will smother you in kisses that night after you’re finally a little less overstimulated, if you ask maybe she’ll do some of those Sharran torture tactics on you after the boys are tucked in of course.

Halsin

-”They are children, my heart. They are untamed beasts.”

-Halsin will laugh and kiss your forehead as if you’re the silliest of geese, but he’ll still take out all of the adopted children, just to give you a much needed break.

-The kids come back with every rock, flower, and stick that made them think of you. Each one of them telling you of the adventures daddy Halsin had taken them on that day.

-”It is my job as your husband to care for the children as well, my heart. Just tell me if you need a break.” 

Lae’zel

-“Xan, your mother is the liberator of our people and you’re treating her like any common istik.”

- Lae’zel takes the overzealous boy out to run him through some drills. When he comes back inside he’s tired and remembers why you’re his favorite parent. 

-”I told him we don’t make women cry. Especially our mothers and then I made him do twenty sword swings.”

-Xan doesn’t like swords so he will definitely not be acting a fool like that again. 

-*I wasn’t really sure what to do with Lae’zel because I didn’t raise the egg with her. We did hot lesbian gith and bard stuff And by stuff, I mean fighting Vlaakith’s warriors. 

[gliphyartfan]

helllo! I haven’t really seen rules for request and I’m not sure if your open butt I have a request that i got inspired by seeing another asker on Yandere Linked Universe. Ahem Platonic Yandere Chain x Fi Reader!

How would that go for headcanons? I know it be complicated because chosen hero and basically saving the world but let’s also say that Fi Reader was the only consistent thing that help Link through battles and advice (only hearing her chimes and voice, they don’t what she looks like expect for Sky)

lol I’ve never been good with these types of ask but uhh gotta try sometimes! Also can i be the 💫 anon lol?? Sry i get nervous when asking these things

Of course, 💫 Anon! Welcome to the blog, and thank you for this lovely ask!

Alright, let’s eat into this!

🌟 Sky 🌟

Sky’s bond with Fi Reader would be the deepest and most personal. He’s the only one who truly knew her, who spent his entire journey in her presence and grew to rely on her not just for guidance but also as a companion.

Sky would feel incredibly possessive of Fi Reader. To him, she’s not just a guide but his guide, his oldest and most trusted friend. He sees her as a part of his soul.

He wouldn’t take kindly to the rest of the Chain trying to develop their own bonds with her. He’d likely become passiveaggressive, dropping comments like, “She doesn’t work for you, you know.”

Sky would be quietly heartbroken if Fi Reader started forming attachments with the others. He’s not selfish enough to stop it, but the thought of her giving them the same affection and attention she gave him stings.

He treasures every word she says to him, constantly seeking her reassurance. If she even hints at preferring his company, his mood would skyrocket.

All in all, he’s a clingy one to her. And definitely feels a hint smug at first that HE’S the closest to her compared to everyone else. (Tho he is kinda jealous that Wild got to have her by his side from a very young age, even if he doesn’t remember it anymore.)

🌟 Warriors 🌟

Warriors’ relationship with Fi Reader is complicated. He interacted with her during the War of Eras but didn’t get to form similar personal bonds like Sky did due to the chaos of the war.

He respects her immensely, but there’s an underlying bitterness. He’s seen glimpses of her connection with Sky, and it eventually frustrates him that he didn’t get the same. Though he DOES have a closer relationship with her compared to the others so in a way, he’d be the second closest to her??

Warriors would be (surprisingly) one of the most competitive when it comes to gaining Fi Reader’s approval. He’d show off his battlefield prowess and leadership skills, hoping she’d acknowledge him. ( rivalry between the knights!)

He’s also protective, seeing her as a key ally in the Chain’s success. However, his protectiveness has a possessive edge, especially if he feels like she’s prioritizing others over him.

He often reminisces about the war and wonders if things could’ve been different if he’d gotten to know her better back then.

🌟 Time 🌟

Time’s relationship with the Master Sword is uh…kinda filled with bitterness and some baggage, which sadly also kinda extends to Fi Reader. He deeply respects her, but her presence stirs complicated feelings.

Time would carry guilt and frustration, wondering if he was ever worthy of wielding the sword and, by extension, worthy of her guidance.

He’d never show it, but he longs for her approval. If she ever acknowledged his wisdom or leadership, it would mean the world to him.

At the same time, Time might avoid her when his emotions run too high. Since seeing could dredge up memories he’d rather forget.

His protectiveness of Fi Reader is quiet. He wouldn’t let anyone speak ill of her or disrespect her, even in jest. If Fi Ready did explain why she made him jump through time the way she did, maybe he’d be able to let go of that bitterness, but I dunno.

Also Time probably harbors some irrational guilt for the destruction he caused during the War of Eras using the Fierce Deity mask, even if it was for the greater good. He fears that Fi Reader may see him as a monster, especially if she witnessed him wielding the mask’s power. Her reassurance is a balm to his soul, but he’s never fully convinced he deserves it.

(Honestly I doubt Reader even cared. She no doubt had sense the deity and probably didn’t even think to see Time as a monster. Maybe the deity even sensed her and they had a small moment to acknowledge each other before the battles kept them busy. Ya know?)

🌟 Twilight 🌟

Twilight’s bond with Fi Reader would be one of quiet reverence. He respects her deeply, but his connection to the Master Sword is more practical than emotional.

Twilight would see her as a guidin star, someone to lean on when he feels lost. He’d likely look to her for advice when dealing with the darker aspects of his journey.

He’d feel a subtle jealousy toward Sky for having such a close bond with her but wouldn let it show. Instead, he’d try to prove himself through his actions.

Twilight would value her approval immensely tho. If she ever praised him, even for something small, it would stay with him for days.

His protectiveness would manifest in quiet, steady ways. He’d always keep an eye on her, ensuring she’s safe and comfortable, even if she doesn’t need it.

🌟 Wild 🌟

Wild’s connection to Fi Reader is bittersweet. He wielded the Master Sword but doesn’t remember most of his time with it before the Calamity. Which is a true shame cause maybe he and her had a decent relationship before everything.

Wild would be fascinated by her, desperate to piece together the memories he’s lost. Maybe she had spoken to him in the past. Maybe Her voice would feel familiar and comforting, even if he can’t place why.

He’d be one of the most eager to interact with her, asking questions and trying to draw her out of her shell. He want to know her, to understand her, in a way that feels deeply personal.

Wild would be protective, but his protectiveness would be tinged with guilt. He feels like he’s let her down by losing so much of himself.

If she ever helped him recover a memory, even accidentally, he’d be overwhelmed with gratitude and devotion. Maybe cause she had been with him for so many years before the calamity, she recalls a lot from his past, so once he gets a chance, he could ask her and learn more of who he once was.

🌟 Legend 🌟

Legend’s relationship with the Master Sword is complicated. He’s wielded it, reforged it, and understands its power, but he’s never had the same bond with it as Sky.

Legend would be wary of Fi Reader at first, unsure if she’d see him as worthy. Especially since I have no doubt he’d be grumpy at times and cursed her out. He’s used to being doubted and would expect the same from her.

Over time, though, he’d come to rely on her guidance and cherish her presence. If she ever expressed faith in him, he’d be deeply moved.

Legend’s protectiveness would be sharp and biting. He’d defend her fiercely, especially if anyone tried to undermine her.

He’d secretly treasure any interaction with her, even if he acted nonchalant about it.

🌟 Hyrule 🌟

Hyrule’s bond with the Master Sword is simple a kind protector of Hyrule who’s been tempered by a harsh and dangerous life.

Hyrule wants to trust Fi Reader, but his hard earned survival instincts make him wary at first.

While Hyrule has a healthy dose of paranoia about others’ intentions, once he decides someone is worth protecting, he goes all in.

He feels a quiet kinship with her because they’ve both endured in their own ways, though hers is quieter and more refined. (She’s designed to rest between her duties, and in his eyes Heroes only get to truly rest when they are dead.)

He’d (once he gets to know her when she appears around the chain) would see her as a wise and benevolent figure, almost goddess-like in her presence. Her words would carry immense weight for him.

If she ever gave him personal advice or guidance, he’d take it to heart and follow it without question.

🌟 Wind 🌟

Wind’s relationship with Fi Reader would be rather enthusiastic. He sees her as a cool, mysterious figure and is eager to earn her favor.

Wind would constantly try to impress her, doing daring stunts and cracking jokes to make her laugh.

He’d be curious about her relationship with the Master Sword and would likely pester Sky with endless questions about her.

Wind’s protectiveness would be impulsive and bold. He’d jump into danger without hesitation if he thought she needed help.

He’d be one of the most open about his feelings toward her, wearing his admiration on his sleeve.

Though maybe he’d also be a bit insecure cause he had to earn his place as a Hero. But I have no doubt Reader would assure him that he had simple needed to have gained the Gods favor, because he had long since earned hers from the moment he held her blade in his hand.

(Cause like, I feel like even if she was depowered, she would have still had some lingering energy to have determined his worthiness even a little. If he hadn’t been worthy, she would have at least zapped him. But she didn’t so I’m gonna assume she found him worthy from the get go!)

The War of Eras kinda forced Wind to grow up a bit quickly, but his natural optimism and adaptability helped him keep cheerful and bright. He views Fi Reader as a presence who helped him change from a carefree islander to a hero(pirate) with a purpose.

Wind feels an almost childlike joy in Fi Reader’s company, often comparing her to the wind itself, gentle yet guiding. He treasures their bond and often jokes that she’s the ‘real captain’ of the Chain.

🌟 Four 🌟

Four never wielded the Master Sword, he’s heard of it but really…¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . He sees her as someone tied to a power he’s never fully understood. (He’s learned his lesson about magic swords after all.)

Four would be deeply curious about her, asking thoughtful questions and trying to piece together her nature.

He’d feel a small sense of inadequacy, wondering if his lack of connection to the Master Sword makes him less worthy of her attention. (He and every other hero with a slightly bad experience with her.)

Four’s protectiveness would be quiet but intense. He’d always be there when she needed him, even if he never said a word about it.

He’d be fascinated by her ability to guide and inspire, often marveling at how much she’s helped the group.

Over time, i suppose the Chain’s collective reverence for Fi Reader would grow into an almost obsessive need to keep her close. They’d compete for her attention, subtly (or not-so-subtly) trying to outdo each other.

Sky’s possessiveness would clash with the others’ growing attachment, leading to tensions within the group.

Fi Reader would become the emotional anchor for the Chain, her presence soothing their fears and doubts. Especially when she states without hesitation that even though the goddess gave her a command serve, Reader’s CHOSEN duty is to be there for her masters in more than just a single way.

Their protectiveness WOULD border on suffocating at times, each hero determined to ensure her safety at all costs even though she is MORE than capable of defending herself.

The thought of losing her would eventually be unthinkable (it’s definitely unthinkable for Sky. Terrified him really).

Honestly, Fi Reader would be both a guiding light and an unintentional source of tension for the Chain.

The rivalries would be fierce…

Thanks for the ask, 💫 Anon! This was such a fun thought process!

[happysparklingshadows]

𝙱𝙶𝟹 𝙻𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 ✿ 𝙿𝚕𝚞𝚜-𝚂𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝙼𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢! 𝚃𝚊𝚟

Note: some spoilers for Act 2 and Act 3 of the game. Some mentions of smut but mostly fluff.

Lae’zel

-When Lae’zel first met you, she didn’t notice your body too much outside of usefulness. At first, she had her sword your throat, and then when you fought together, she noticed your swiftness and cunning. Once she could be around you more, she started to notice. Women where she is from don't come so curvy or lush by any means. She is fascinated by the way your body curves and jiggles. The big breasts and hips were very new to her, and at first, she rejected the fact she liked such an alien look on a person. I mean, it’s ridiculous? But like most people who reject what they want the most, she couldn’t help but obsess with your body. She wanted to conquer this obsession before it distracted her. 

-Lae’zel isn’t one to be gently parented; she is firm and doesn’t listen to things that don’t make her stand at attention. Mommy Tav, I feel they need to be stern in some ways with her. A firm “No, Lae’zel.” is like a commander's word to her if it comes from you, but you must have earned that right to speak to her like that.

-She isn’t one for open affection or love. It was ingrained in her that it is weak and needless for a warrior. She at first finds that helping people without benefit to yourself is aimless and indulgence of your time. It annoyed her and made her eyes roll often behind your back when you talked to these random helpless creatures running around. But slowly, over time, especially after she turns her back on Vlaakith, she noticed the strength underneath all your fussing and helpfulness. You wanted to help people because you could. You did it just because you could, and you wanted to, and you would kill anyone who got in your way. The way you smiled with bright eyes at a child were the same eyes that happily killed goblins that caused their pain, and you would be damned if you wouldn’t make them happy and safe. Lae’zel grows to understand this mothering energy from you. She thought the way people of this plane were disgusting for how they reproduced and thought it odd how needy people were for their parents, but she learns why it was so hard to leave such a warm embrace.

-Lae’zel doesn’t mean to be mean, and she doesn’t understand sometimes when her words cut more than usual. She was raised to cut others with words like blades, so when your eyes flash with surprise and hurt when she says something, it makes her feel horrible. She would never admit guilt, but she does try her best. She is annoyed by herself for hurting you and even more annoyed that she cares about you. 

-The annoyance doesn’t last long, though. It almost melted as your hands touched Lae’zel’s shoulder softly when she did well in battle, or the way you smiled at her when she talked about her studies in crèche K'liir, or the way you always seemed to have food for her to eat on the road. She wasn’t dense enough not to notice how you care about her, even when she is being mean and doesn’t know how to feel about it. It confused her, and it made her feel nervous. 

-Lae’zel is swift with claiming you. She knew she wanted to taste you and be your lay, but she couldn’t handle the possessiveness that overcame her at the thought someone else could have you. Your sweet hands touch someone else, soothing them as they do her? How soft you were was for her alone. She isn’t very soft in many ways but feels soft with you. 

-Lae’zel is beyond protective over you. Her hand is on her sword if someone speaks to you in a tone she doesn’t like. She would have their eyes dug out with her thumbs if she thought you would look at her with those warm eyes and be pleased with her. 

-Lae’zel realizes being with you that she has had a hunger her whole life. A hunger for acceptance and unconditional love, she chased it from Valakath since the time she hatched. She found it with you. With her head in the crook of your neck and soft body pressed against her lean body, she feels a warmth that has thawed more parts of herself than any accomplishment for Valakath could. 

-She doesn’t like most of the food she is given. No fault of your own, but it isn’t what she is used to expecting. But she loves apple pies and spiced meats, and her eyes sparkle when she sees you near the hearth cooking. Her ears quirked up as she heard the hissing meat in the pan. She intensely stares you down before hovering over your cooking. She is like a cat who likes to be in your way. She just wants to observe and be a part of it, even if she isn’t doing anything but watching you.

-She gives a sharp “chk” when you kiss her bandaged wound you dressed, and she moves away from you when you do that. She doesn’t like how it makes her feel so weak at how good it feels. You just chuckle, knowing at this point of your relationship that she isn’t rejecting you, and say, “Well, when it heals faster, you will not be so against it, my champion.”. And after that point, she would expect you to bandage her wounds and kiss them each time.

-Lae’zel needs guidance and patience, as well as a teacher. She needs someone to educate her on this plane and how to act in certain situations on this plane that doesn’t end with bloodshed. But she needs someone who doesn’t hate her for being reckless and violent that she is. 

-Lae’zel takes some time to learn how to love and be loved, but for a soft mothering person, that isn’t very hard to be patient with her. She learns from example the easiest, and that love is as warm and fulfilling as killing, if not more so. 

-Lae’zel was beyond happy when Xan was hatched, and she couldn’t think of someone better than the source of her joy to co-parent with her. Lae’zel gives off avoidant Midwest dad vibes that are really focused on teaching Xan to fight and giving him the discipline to achieve anything he longs for. It eases her that Xan doesn’t have to be beaten into a ridged warrior like she did because he is loved like the children of Faerün. With kisses and hugs, soothing words for laughing, and tickles for cheekiness. In a different life, she would have scoffed and killed you for treating a gith with such tenderness to ruin his resolve at such a young age, but now with you at an inn together. She can only bring herself to chuckle at the scene of Xan wiggling in giggles on your lap, happily content with her family. 

-Lae’zel would one day be laughing with the two of you, Xan giggling in your lap, and realize she was where she was always meant to be with you, and Xan giggling over the most minor thing that wasn’t even funny. It wasn’t becoming the strongest warrior to make her happy, but having a family she could protect was all she needed. 

Karlach

-When Karlach first met you, she saw you. If you aren’t used to someone openly hitting on you, now you do. There is a whistle when you bend down or jump; her tone always becomes soft, and the words “baby” become your new name, and she openly stares at your breasts when you speak (no cleavage needed). Karlach doesn’t care because she can handle a whole lot of woman happily. Just wait until she can get her hands on you. 

-Karlach is a partner who needs to be gently parented, but she is so sweet that it is used sparingly. Karlach sometimes needs a sharp look to stop talking in front of some people or someone to talk her out of violence gently. Karlach is a sweetheart, but she has a temper that sometimes needs to be chilled, and your soft hands rubbing on their biceps are just that. 

-Karlach starts daggers into the knocked-out Drow as you softly rub her biceps, “Baby, calm down. You’re going to burn the whole place down. Baby, breathe slowly, deeply.” And she looks down at you, her eyes melt as soon as she sees your worried face and closes them. She takes deep breaths to calm her temper down; she needs to chill out, or she will burn down this whole place. 

-When Karlach can touch you, she loves to rest her head on your stomach. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath of you in. Her hands constantly touch you, finding safety on your waist or shoulder. Her lips kiss the back of your neck when you read, her heat being felt close behind you. 

-Karlach NEEDS some soft tender care and knows it. She unironically purrs when you put your hand on her cheek; she leans in your hand always. Karlach is very much someone who loves when you baby her and is always so grateful about it. 

-Karlach is a munch in so many ways, she will eat whatever you place infront of her, and it is the most delicious meal she has ever tasted. Karlach always hovers over you when you cook, always ready to be a helper in the kitchen out of curiosity and love. Karlach relates food with love because of her mother, and I feel like in Act 3, after stopping by the graveyard, you are on a mission to find Karlach Sr. Cookbook. 

-Karlach would cry happy tears when you found a stew her mom wrote, and she sobbed when she ate her mom's cooking in a good way. She missed her mom a lot, and not having the heart her mother gave her made her feel this emptiness. And she is forever grateful to have known you, loved you. She would softly pull you into her lap and hold you close, crying and eating. 

-Karlach REFUSES for you to leave camp without her and doesn’t let you carry heavy things anymore. Did you get camping supplies? A gunpowder barrel? Mama k got it. 

-Lowkey is possessive and clingy with you once you say, “Karlach, I’m yours.”. Karlach has you move your things into her tent and sleeps with her big arms wrapped around you tightly. She doesn’t like the idea that someone else could have you even when she couldn’t touch you, but she was being fair. Now she can touch you. There is no question you are hers, and she is yours. 

-Karlach loves to suck on your nipples and just suckle on you. It feels so comfortable and pleasing to her. She likes the heat of your breasts and the way the breast touches her cheek. She likes to see and have them in front of her, but she doesn’t pay attention to much else. She loves how they hang on your ribs and bounce with each step of your body. She usually, on tiring days, just curls up to your chest and rests her head.

Shadowheart 

-Shadowheart was so frantic and scared when she first saw you that she didn’t think much about you, but she noticed your protective nature as you focused on getting her out. She almost felt uncomfortable when your caring hand helped her off the ground when she fell. When you both were safely on the ground of the beach, she noticed when you walked over to her that your body had a sway to it. An almost unconscious sensual from the way your hips perk softly as you stride towards her. But also, how strong you seemed in the moment and how determined you looked had a heat run through her. She blushes and keeps it to herself. She decided to travel with you since you saved her and because she didn’t mind seeing the back of you for a while. 

-Shadowheart is similar to Lae’zel in that she pushes her feelings aside and denies them. She noticed how you took care of people and liked to comfort people, and she saw how you smiled when everyone praised your food. She keeps herself quiet for the most part, but she does thaw her heart to your seemingly endless warmth. 

-She realized she was denying her feelings once she opened up about her past and earliest memory. You actively listened and softly touched her forearm when she finished; all you said was, “Thank you for sharing with me. I promise that I will help with whatever I can for you.”

-Of course, she falls for you. It was hard. But she would be hard to get, and she wanted you to prove yourself more. She was waiting for you to make a mistake. 

-But there was none. You were no hypocrite and were this caring and nurturing to your friends. You were a person wrapped up in goodness and light and beauty. 

-Shadowheart's defenses crumbled, and she quickly told you her feelings when she learned more about herself. Something for her that didn’t cause pain or suffering. Something good. 

-Shadowheart eyes melt when you come close to her. 

-Shadowheart would benefit from gentle parenting but is so stubborn that you have to be occasionally firm with her. She likes to be talked to softly, and how you look at her like a precious gem. But a little pain of rejection or shame doesn’t hurt her at all.

-Shadowheart, at night, always cuddles into your back. She sighs contently when her head rests on your pillow. She could bury her face in your back for decades if she could. Her hand resting on top of her beloved hips and pulls you in closer to her body. Shadowheart loves to hold and be held.

-Shadowheart's favorite thing to do is be buried in between your plush thighs, having her ears silenced to the world with your flesh wrapping around her head. It was warm and welcoming, with your beautiful sighs of pleasure. 

-Shadowheart confides in you a lot after you two become official. You are the first person she goes to for advice to help her think clearer about a situation, even with her disillusionment of Shar, which was talked about with you. She is typically secretive and calculates what to expose about herself, so getting her to talk to you about her feelings is very big. 

-Shadowheart finds out that she does have a soft side, and you comfortably reside there. She looks at you with her big blue eyes melting when you speak to her. She doesn’t care if this makes her reject Shar. If she wants a life with you, she will do it. She could do anything to have a quiet and peaceful life with the woman she loves and be healed some more by the unconditional love she has found. 

Minthara

-Minthara has daddy energy, and she likes that you compliment her with the mommy energy you give off. She, however, is not one to be guided or nurtured but loves to be babied (in Drow terms) when she gets the chance.

-Minthara knew that she would have you when you walked into her chamber. She felt a low hum in her body when she noticed the way your body carried itself. The breasts, the arms, the stomach, the hips, the legs, Hmm. But she didn’t have many plans for you, not until you proved yourself to her with blood. She was thrilled to find out that under the soft, innocent look, there was a murder underneath. She felt some kind of pride knowing she found someone to fight alongside her that was actually worthy. She was smitten even if she wouldn’t admit it. 

-Minthara sees weakness or softness in any light besides malice. Weakness needs to be beaten out of a person until they are strong. She wasn’t blind to how you seemed sweet and caring and how your eyes seemed coquettish under her gaze. She didn’t know how to feel about this seemingly powerful but weak leader helping her on her mission for the absolute. She would peek into your mind when you weren’t noticing and could tell you were this caring and murderous. 

-Obviously, she grows soft towards you with time. Even when she tried to kill you, she wanted it to be mercifully quick and painless. She couldn’t have your warm eyes on her. She does want to be known by you, and she wants to hold and caress you. You made the world quiet, from gods and her self-doubt. Your tender cuddle at night after a fuck, the delicate rubbing of her back as she lays on your breasts, it was everything she had ever craved from any god. 

-Minthara doesn’t like surface food at all, and she doesn’t make any comments when she is given food. She does watch from a distance as you cook the group their dinner, and she says a “thank you” when you hand her her portion. She eats all of it for strength and has been trying to get used to the plainness. To her, everything tastes like oatmeal and soulless. 

-Her heart almost dropped when she noticed you walking up to her with a bottle of Underdark wine and a wheel of cheese from her rival house's family. She doesn’t know what to say when you happily explain that you had killed a horde of rich drows and then found this and that it made you think about her, handing over the items. She feels herself blush and stares at you. She puts the items down in her tent and drags you off to be claimed again by her. 

-Minthara knew she loved you at Moonrise and surely knew when you saved her from Moonrise. Her eyes melted as soon as she felt your figure again. She didn’t even allow herself to hope that you would come, and yet you did. You did with a fierce protective energy as you escorted her out of the castle and killed the guards that kept her. 

-Minthara, like Karlach, is possessive and clingy with you once you two become official. She doesn’t like the idea that someone else would get to know this tender and sweet person. She would kill someone over weirdly looking at you. Minthara hovers over you wherever you go and is your plus one in everything. She would scoff and laugh at the mention of you leaving camp without her, and it’s not going to happen. 

-Minthara would have a breeding kink so hard with you once she is settled in with you. Minthara would know very early on that she couldn’t imagine a life for herself now without you, and she wanted to keep you beside her forever. She wanted to have a family and continue her bloodline as a noblewoman should, but she wanted you to carry her baby. Trust and believe that Minthara will find some magic device to get you pregnant after you finish the Netherbrain

-Lowkey knew she would marry you and keep you with her for the rest of her life. She quickly knew you were wife material for her and acted like you were already married. 

-Minthara doesn’t listen to you even when your tone is strong and demanding, like a mother's. She has enormous dom-daddy energy, and she will not take commands from her sub (except in the bedroom; she is a consent queen).  

-“Minthara, stop.” You say as you watch her tower over a dwarf with her poisoned knife to his throat. She doesn’t react at all as she puts the fear of the gods into the poor man, “Minthara!” You hiss to her as you start to walk away. Minthara doesn’t listen to you and slices the dwarf's neck, but she quickly drops him to get beside you. You give her a soft glare, and she glares back as playfully as she can muster. 

-Don’t get me wrong, Minthara has mommy issues and she does use you as some kind of new mothering figure. She lays in your breasts at night for safety and comfort, she holds your soft skin with adoration now that she loves you-knows you.

-Minthara likes to grab your hardened nipple sometimes to surprise you and have you make that breathy moan of shock. She likes to pull you in closer with a hand firmly planted in your ass; she pulls you into an intense kiss. She likes to have control over you and to have you writhing with pleasure because of her.

[wiltedreamofbaldursgate]

Steady Hands, Frame My Love

characters: Astarion x race/class neutral fem!Tav/reader word count: +3.2k Rating: M trigger warning: mild-ish sexual content. bad eyebrows. This hasn't been beta-read nor am I a native speaker. read on ao3 read more BG3 one shots

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror.

“Come out, spawn. There is no use in hiding.”

You know there is trouble when you spot Lae'zel in front of Astarion’s tent. Her tiny nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute if it didn’t mean she wants to skin someone alive. The perfectly sharpened blade twitching in her hand is just another hint that she’s out for blood. You almost can’t blame Astarion for hiding from the Githyanki warrior’s wrath—almost, because it’s within every reason to assume he’s brought her wrath upon himself. 

Taking a quick look around camp, you find that everybody is suspiciously busy minding their own business for once, skillfully ignoring the one-sided commotion in front of your lover’s tent. You can’t really blame them either; it’s been a very long day, and everybody wants to get some rest before dinner. You have half the mind to do the very same when Lae'zel’s intense gaze suddenly locks with yours—an honest rookie mistake.

There’s no use pretending you haven’t noticed her now, so you put your journal aside and approach the red tent with long strides and a smile that you can only hope will have a calming effect on her. Unsurprisingly, your hopes are shattered instantly. 

Lae'zel doesn’t wait for you to friendly inquire about what the fuck the matter is this time; before you can even open your mouth, she’s all the way in your face.

“The spawn does as he pleases!”

Lae'zel would need to get a great deal more specific when it comes to Astarion, but you refrain from telling her so, opting for a questioning look instead. 

The young warrior shakes her head, annoyed that her explanation isn’t sufficient enough for your small istik brain to comprehend.

“It is the spawn’s turn to fetch water from the stream. Thus is his duty,” Lae'zel explains slowly, accentuating every word with a well-placed hiss to get her point across. “A duty he fails to perform.” 

You think it is progress that she isn’t waving her sword at you, although she does glare at you as if you were the offending party, which—since your relationship with the pale elf has become common knowledge around camp—you somewhat are.

“Where I am from, we make sure to keep our mates in check, however pleasing they might be. You might want to do the same.” 

Maybe not so much progress, after all.

“Haven't I made myself quite clear on that before, Lae'zel?”

Holding her intense glare, you stare the warrior down. You have made yourself clear on occasion—you aren’t Astarion’s keeper. 

It takes a moment, but Lae'zel is the first to break eye contact, eventually taking a step back. Not lowering your gaze, you wait patiently for her to continue.

“The spawn would better honour his word, or else…” She spits, not at you, but at Astarion’s firmly closed tent flap. 

“I will remind him,” you assure her, not unkindly.

Lae'zel looks you up and down before she inclines her head ever so slightly.

“I trust you will,” she drawls, glaring at the tent one last time before she stalks away.

Left to take care of the issue at hand, you frown at the closed tent flap. As much as Astarion bitches about pulling his weight in camp, it’s unlike him to not do his chores one way or the other. And now that you think about it, he’s set up his tent uncharacteristically fast earlier, too, not even trying to rope anyone in to help him do his work. The realisation that you haven’t seen him since he vanished into said tent quite a while ago settles unpleasantly in your stomach. 

“Astarion?”

You step closer to the heavy fabric closing off the tent’s entrance, listening. There’s no answer, although you do hear some hurried movement from within the tent. It’s a good sign, you suppose.

“You good in there?”

The silence stretches for another moment before Astarion finally lets out an exaggerated sigh. Going by the sound of it, he, too, must be standing rather close to the entrance.

“Truth be told, darling, I have been better.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask, not bothering to hide the obvious worry lacing your voice. 

When could he have even gotten hurt? Haven’t you checked up on everyone after your earlier fight with some overly pesky, giant spiders? Or is he just messing with you—trying to avoid his laborious chore after all?

It takes yet another moment for Astarion to mumble something incomprehensible in reply. With raised eyebrows, you repeat your question, which earns you another sigh from him, this time more exasperated than theatrical. 

“I just so happened to get some acid in my face when we took care of those cursed spiders and—”

“And?” You press, alarmed.

“It’s nothing, darling, really; it’s just—well…”

“Astarion!”

The vampire curses, and you can hear him step even closer to the tent’s opening, closer to you. You’re almost sure that if you pressed your hand against the fabric shielding him from you, you would be able to touch him. 

“They're gone,” he says, his voice so low you have to strain your ears to hear him. 

Your frown deepens. “What is?” 

More mumbling reaches your ear, and Astarion has to repeat himself twice before you can eventually make any sense of his words. You stare at the tent flap in disbelief. You can't have heard right.

“Your eyebrows are gone?”

Astarion inhales sharply. “Must you scream it around for everyone to hear? Come in, come in!”

Not knowing what to expect, you enter the tent. 

Astarion has retreated to the shadows; his hand is firmly pressed against his forehead. You stare up at him, trying to assess the situation. He looks pained alright, although you have an inkling it’s more from wounded vanity than actual injury. As you step closer to him, you give him a reassuring smile.

“So, acid, huh? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He is not convinced. At all. Wordlessly, he’s staring back at you, his jaw set. Your smile fades.

“Let me take a look?” You try again, feeling your already shaky optimism dwindle further.  

He thinks it over for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly drags his hand to his hairline, pushing up the stands of white hair that usually fall so gracefully in his face… 

Astarion must’ve drunk a healing potion because the presumably once-angry burns on his skin have already faded into pale red blotches sprinkled all over his forehead. By morning, nobody would even be able to tell the acid burns were ever there—were it not for Astarion’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, that is.

You instantly force your face into a mask of neutrality. You have to approach this very delicately.

“It’s… salvageable. Really,” is all you can blurt out, though. 

Astarion’s crimson eyes grow comically round, accentuated by the lack of eyebrows; he doesn’t believe a word you say, which you can’t really hold against him. You’re talking shit. It’s bad, and you wonder how in the nine hells you haven’t noticed this before.

“You can redraw them here and…there,” you go on for lack of anything better to say—Gods, you really should shut up. “Fill them back in, you know…?” 

Astarion wets his lips while you're evading his piercing gaze.

“Why, what a grand idea,” he breathes, shakily. “I never would’ve thought of that myself. If only there wasn’t this one peculiar little thing. What was it again, my dear?”

You cringe. Of course. Of course… How could you forget?

“Ah, right…” You only notice the delicate hand mirror Astarion was holding when it flies across the tent, shattering somewhere on the bare ground farthest from you. “I can’t fucking see my face!” 

As if all strength has left his body, Astarion sinks to the ground, where he lets himself fall back into his pile of blankets, arms draped over his eyes. It’s all rather dramatic, but you guess you can’t have one without the other. 

Grimacing, because you’re sorry for him, you sink to your knees next to him, gently tugging at his sleeve. 

“Do you want me to do it? Redraw them, I mean.”

You can tell by the way Astarion sits up as if struck by lightning that he was only waiting for your offer. Suddenly very close, he considers you with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you could,” he muses, tracing the shape of your left eyebrow with his index finger. “You usually look presentable enough.” 

You let the comment slide, but not without rolling your eyes at him. It’s just show, though, a way to suppress a smile. Astarion thinks he’s sly about it, but you catch him often enough looking at you as if you were the sun at dawn. 

Of course, you would never dare mention that to him.

“Give me a minute,” you say instead, already rising to your feet, were it not for the cold fingers curling around your wrist.

Astarion gives you a stern look as he's holding you in place, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “Not a word to anyone about this.” 

You give him a solemn look in return as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently guiding some stray locks back into place. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your hand is trembling just a little—enough for Astarion to notice. Enough for that damn smirk to find its way to his lips. You hold your breath. 

“Nervous, love?” 

Yes, and it’s stupid because you’ve done this often enough—daily, even. It’s just easier to apply cosmetics on yourself, sitting in front of a mirror and not kneeling in front of him, trying to evade his piercing gaze. 

“Why would I be?” You scowl, readjusting the hold on your charred willow stick that has yet to make contact with Astarion’s skin. “Aren’t my eyebrows, are they?”

You shift closer to him, brushing against his leg with your knee, which doesn’t help your case at all. You can’t help feeling a little shaky when he’s this close—and he knows it. 

“No need to tremble like a virgin, then, my sweet.” 

Giving him a sharp look, you draw back a little, although you don’t make it far. 

“Maybe you just need to come a little closer still,” he purrs as his hand takes hold of the back of your knee, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “Might be less distracting for you…”

For someone close to having a meltdown less than fifteen minutes ago, he’s surely having lots of fun now. Biting your lower lip, you adjust your weight, straddling Astarion properly. Trying to ignore the hard body pressing against yours, you assess the natural growth of his eyebrows again, eventually setting the tip of the charred willow stick down on his skin, only to remove it again. This won’t work like this. 

“Honestly, can you please just close your eyes?” 

Astarion scoffs. “Should I blow out the candles, too, while I’m at it? Leave the nightdress on?” 

“Shut up, or you’ll end up looking like a clown.” 

That eventually does the trick. He gives you one last look that is somewhere between peeved and wary before he closes his eyes. 

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing, to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Astarion’s hand wanders up from your knee to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze; this time, his touch is more encouragement than teasing. 

After taking a deep breath, you lean back in. 

With steady hands, you begin to redraw the missing parts of his eyebrows. Taking your time, you make sure to follow the natural shape of them; to blend out the colour where the charcoal comes off as too stark a contrast to his white hair. 

While you’re working, Astarion doesn’t move one bit, eager—for once—to not fluster you. It’s not until you lean back to consider the fruits of your labour that he opens his eyes again. 

“And?”

“Well,” you muse, “you look presentable enough.” 

He scowls as you throw his own words back at him; you suppress a laugh before you take his face between your hands.

“If I could see the stars right now, I could not tell them apart from you,” you proclaim, mimicking his dramatics once again. It’s not as funny when you do it, so you’re quick to add, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

You mean it, and Astarion knows it; trusts that you do. He leans forward to brush a kiss against your lips, hugging you to him, which is as much thanks as you expected to receive. 

“Will you do it again tomorrow? And the day after,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “please?”  

“Of course,” you assure him, deepening the embrace, “until they’ve grown back.”  

Astarion hums in agreement and you remain like this for a moment before you pull back to look into his eyes, which are once again framed by a pair of sharp eyebrows accentuating his perfect features. 

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” you say, at last. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good mirror, it seems.” 

Astarion frowns at you, the intensity of his gaze taking you aback as it is wont to do. 

“Don’t be,” he urges, gently taking your dominant hand in his. He runs his fingers along the back of it, careful not to put too much pressure on your still-raw skin. His touch stings nonetheless, reminding you of your own acid burns that have yet to heal—those spiders really are a menace. “You should be more careful, too, you know? You’re the only working mirror I have.”

You’re lying flat on your back before you can even gasp in surprise. To your embarrassment, your legs have already wrapped around Astarion’s waist; all you can see is that damn smirk on his lips as he’s towering over you, his face barely a finger width away from yours. Your breath hitches as you take him in; nobody has any right to be this beautiful. 

“It would be a shame if I lost it, my precious little mirror,” he sighs before pressing his lips to yours. 

It’s a far cry from his earlier kiss—heated, needy. Knowing you don’t stand a chance against his tongue gliding over your lower lip, you open your mouth to him, slowly losing yourself in him. There’s really nothing easier than that.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as your fingers dig through his locks, eliciting a low moan from him. This is a lot more thanks for your service than you’ve expected, but you find yourself unable to complain. Your mouth is far too occupied for that anyway.

It’s almost obscene how easily Astarion can undo your stays and by the time his hand finds its way underneath your thin shirt, your mind is long clouded by lust. Leaving goosebumps in its wake, his hand glides over your belly up to your sternum before it firmly cups your breast. The lazy pace of his thumb drawing circles around your hardened nipple has you aching your back, trying to ease the wet heat gathering between your legs. 

Wet.

Somewhere very far in the back of your mind, you remember that you had a reason for coming to him earlier—way before you ended up on his lap, let alone underneath him. Let alone this damn wet. What was it again? 

You break loose from Astarion to take a quick breath. Not wasting any time away from you, his lips begin to trace along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone; his wicked grin is painfully obvious against your skin. By the time you realise Astarion is scheming something, he’s already pushing his knee under your ass, repositioning you so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your core. You hiss at the sudden contact. 

Ah, right—hiss! Lae'zel.

You throw your head back with a sigh as Astarion begins to grind his hips against you, making any thought of the Githyanki warrior evaporate quickly. Fuck Lae'zel and her sense of duty and honour. You can just sit out her wrath with Astarion right here, right now, however long it may take. It doesn’t really matter that you’re not sitting much, either.

But then again, maybe this is why your companions take offence at you the moment Astarion is stepping out of line, although you’re sure they would be biassed, too, if they knew how positively divine he feels—especially when he’s teasing the waistband of your trousers with his long fingers as he does now. Your hips move in answer to his touch, and yet…Fuck.

You groan. Not with pleasure but from your own sense of duty. The others trust you as much as Astarion does; that’s why they somehow thought it wise to make you their leader. Almost annoyed with yourself, you prop yourself up on one elbow, pressing your hand against Astarion’s chest, telling him to stop before you’re way past the point of no return. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. His hair is messy and his lips are red and swollen from your kisses and by the Gods you want him to fuck you. It takes you a very long moment to gather yourself.

“Now that we took care of your issue,” you pant, tracing the shape of his left eyebrow with your index finger, “you might wanna go fetch water if you don’t want Lae'zel to wipe them off right away.” 

Tilting his head, Astarion gives you a long look. His fingers keep digging into your thigh which has you grinding your teeth to suppress another sigh. He doesn’t buy your attempt at keeping order and peace, not when he can undoubtedly feel you trembling with need for him. You’re not even protesting when he leans back over you, one arm next to your head to support his weight. 

“So, what?” he breathes against your shoulder before planting a hot kiss against your skin. And another. And another, as he is slowly kissing his way down your body. “You said you would redo them over and over and over again, didn’t you, darling?” 

Holding your breath, you watch your shirt being pushed up the lower he’s moving down on you, gasping only when the crisp evening air caresses your exposed chest. 

Astarion’s trail of kisses comes to a halt right below your belly button. His crimson eyes are looking at you expectantly but you’re too preoccupied with his fingers slowly undoing your trousers to make any sense of his wordless question. You swallow. 

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He repeats, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you nod rather enthusiastically. “No problem. Not at all.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Astarion grins, finally freeing you of your trousers to see how pathetically ready you already are for him.

Duty can wait a little longer, you decide as you give yourself over to the pale elf. You only promised Lae'zel to remind Astarion of his chores, not that you would make him do them, you reason. 

You’re not his keeper, after all. 

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Batting for a draw

A belated entry for Day 1 of @charles-rowland-week, loosely inspired by the book Swordheart by T. Kingfisher, where Charles's soul is bound to an enchanted cricket bat (which used to be an enchanted sword) and Edwin is the one who accidentally summons him. You can either read it below or here on AO3!

Prompt: cricket bat

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.5K

Relationship: pre-Edwin/Charles

Summary: Charles, an immortal warrior, used to be bound to an enchanted sword, but times have changed. For the past three decades, he’s been trapped inside an enchanted cricket bat forgotten in the back of a cupboard, until Edwin Payne needs a place to hide from his tormentors. Now that Edwin has summoned him, Charles just has to convince him to let him stick around.

***

Charles drifts for a long time.

There’s no way to know how much time has passed in this cluttered little cupboard, leaning against the wall among dozens of other forgotten things. Sometimes, he’s vaguely aware of footsteps outside, people shouting to each other, bells ringing, the drum of rain against windowsills and the howling of wind. Sometimes, he’ll stir to almost-wakefulness as the door of the cupboard opens and a hand reaches in to grab something, but no hand ever closes around him.

Part of him is aware that he’s collecting dust and that it’s been far too long. Iris said she would come back for him after she hid him, but she never did. Something bad must have happened to her, which means that Charles failed her, just like he’s failed all of his wielders eventually. Maybe it’s best that he’s trapped in this cupboard until someone tosses him away like trash.

Whenever he thinks that, he lets himself sink a little deeper into his barely-conscious state. He doesn’t want to think about his failures.

The cupboard opens and closes. People talk as they walk by. Bells ring. Wind and rain rattle the windows. And through it all, Charles is just there, forgotten.

Until finally, someone picks him up and the whole world glows red.

***

Edwin knows, even as he picks up the cricket bat, that there’s no point. He’s not going to fight Simon and his friends. They all play every sport St. Hilarion’s has to offer, while Edwin has never been what anyone would call athletic. It’s a shame, he’s heard the coaches mutter, because he’s a fast runner. The only problems are his coordination and his upper body strength and his preferences for doing literally anything else but participating in sports.

So no, he’s not going to try and hit Simon and the others. That would only get him a worse thrashing. They’ll already be cross that he got away from them by biting Simon’s hand and kicking Miles in the stomach after they dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night; he doesn’t want to make it worse. But it’s comforting to have something in his hands as he crouches, barefoot and shivering in his pajamas, in the little cupboard of the athletic building. It’s not his usual hiding place, so he’s hoping that will throw his pursuers off. It’s not as if he ever voluntarily ventures to this part of campus.

The last time they dragged him out of bed, they locked him in the cellar of their dormitory all night and for most of the next day. Edwin missed an exam and got a stern telling off for wandering somewhere students aren’t allowed and missing all his classes. There was no point in telling anyone why he’d ended up in the basement. There never was.

But from what he heard them whispering to each other tonight, they have worse plans for him this time. Which is why Edwin needs to stay still and quiet until the coast is clear and he can sneak back to his room.

Nervously, he runs his hand over the smooth wood of the cricket bat, comforting himself with the repetitive motion. It feels oddly warm in his hands.

And then the entire cupboard is illuminated in red light, so bright that Edwin can hardly see. He yelps as the red light seems to engulf his hands and the cricket bat, leaving searing heat in his wake. It should hurt, he thinks distantly. His hands should be burned to ash. Instead, it feels almost pleasant, like he’s dipped his hands into a bowl of warm water.

The red light coalesces into the shape of a person. Edwin blinks, and the light is gone, leaving only afterimages dancing across his vision and someone sitting in his lap.

***

The boy—Charles’s wielder—lets out a little shriek of surprise at finding Charles in his lap. For a moment, there’s a scramble as they both try to adjust their limbs so they’re not practically on top of each other, to no avail. The cupboard is barely big enough for one person among all the clutter, never mind two. The other boy’s knee is poking Charles in the shin and the cricket bat is pinned uncomfortably between them.

“What was that?” the other boy asks indignantly, in a posh, bossy sort of voice. Charles can’t see him in the dark, but he smells nice, like soap. The body pressed up against Charles’s is warm and clad in something soft. Pajamas, maybe.

Charles shrugs his shoulders, reveling in being able to move again after being still for so long. “That was you summoning me, mate. Name’s Charles. Nice to meet you.”

“Summoning? I didn’t summon you.”

“Think you did.”

The boy makes a strangled noise. It’s kind of cute. “What are you doing here?”

“Told you, you summoned me.” Charles grins. “What’s your name?”

There’s a brief silence, like the boy is considering whether or not to answer. “Edwin Payne.”

“Nice to meet you, Edwin Payne. Now, what are you doing here?”

Edwin shifts uncomfortably and says in a quieter voice, “I’m hiding.”

“Hiding?” Charles perks up. This is why he was summoned after all, to leap to his wielder's defense. If some manner of sorcerer, demon, or assassin is after his Edwin Payne, he's going to make them regret being born. “From who?”

“Simon Mould and his friends.”

“Who’s Simon Mould? A hitman An evil wizard?” Charles hasn’t gotten to fight a proper wizard in ages.

“No.” The boy sounds puzzled now. “He's just an arsehole. Do you really not know who Simon is? I thought everyone here knew him. His uncle is the prime minister and he never shuts up about it.”

“What happened to Old Maggie?”

“ Thatcher ? She died years ago.”

“Good fucking riddance.” Charles considers. “What year is it?”

Another pause, this one more worried. “2025.”

Huh, it's only been 36 years since Charles went in the cupboard then. Not as long as he thought. “And where are we?”

“St. Hilarion's School for Boys,” Edwin says slowly. “You don't go here?”

St. Hilarion’s? It doesn’t sound familiar. Why would Iris have hidden him here? “Nah, school was never my thing.”

“Then why on earth were you hiding in a cupboard in the athletic building?”

“I wasn’t hiding. You summoned me, remember? Guess I was waiting for you, wasn’t I?”

He feels Edwin draw back a little, not that there's much space to retreat.

“Not in a mad stalker sort of way, mate,” Charles says quickly. “You summoned me, so now it's my job to protect you.”

“Charles, are you... well?” Edwin sounds like he's choosing his words carefully.

“Yeah, I’m aces. Where's this Simon wanker? Sounds like he needs a good arse kicking.”

“Hopefully looking for me on the other side of campus. He said he stole a book from his brother. He and his friends were planning to sacrifice me to a demon or some nonsense.”

“A demon?” Charles really doesn't like the sound of that.

“Yes, and I don’t feel like being trussed up like a virgin sacrifice and have the pictures end up on Instagram.”

Charles has no idea what Instagram is, but it sounds sinister. “That’s not happening.”

“I hope not.” He feels Edwin edging away towards the door. “It was nice meeting you, Charles, but I really should be—”

Charles slaps a hand over his mouth as braying laughter echoes outside.

“Oi, Payne!” a boy's voice bellows. “You hiding in here, you little bitch?”

Edwin goes very still. Charles doesn't even think he's breathing.

“Better not make us come find you, Payne!” another boy shouts. “Or we'll kick your arse.”

“Nah, he'd probably like that,” someone says, followed by another burst of laughter.

Edwin draws in a shaky breath.

“Right.” Charles moves into a crouch, clutching his bat. “I've got this.”

“That's not necessary,” Edwin hisses. “They’ll move on.”

From nearby, there's the sound of a door behind thrown open. Something crashes to the ground loudly.

“Mate, they’re here to sacrifice you to a demon.”

“They’re just trying to frighten me.”

“That won’t make you any less sacrificed to a bloody demon.”

“It’s not as if it’s a real ritual.” Desperation edges into Edwin's voice. “They’re just bullies.”

Bullies are plenty dangerous, but Charles sees his point. “Fine, I’ll just bang ‘em up a little. No real damage.”

“Charles—”

But footsteps are approaching and there's no time to waffle. Charles explodes out of the closet, bringing his bat up in between the legs of the boy who was about to open the cupboard door. The boy lets out a thin little wail and buckles, knees hitting the ground. With a whoop, Charles aims his cricket bat at the next boy's shins, not hard enough to break bone, but just hard enough for it to hurt like hell. Sure enough, his victim screams, hopping around like his leg’s been torn off.

The battle fever is rising, urging Charles to fight and fight until the enemies have fallen under his blade. But there are no real enemies here and no blade, just a cricket bat and a bunch of stupid kids who think sacrificing a classmate to a demon is a fun lark. He releases his bat and it flies through the air, smacking a fair-haired boy across the face hard enough to make his head snap around. The book in his hands falls to the floor as he clutches his face, screaming about a broken nose. There are three more boys with them, hanging back as they eye Charles warily.

Charles smiles at them as the cricket bat returns to his hand. “This is the part where you run, yeah?”

The boys don’t need to be told twice, turning tail and scrambling away. The one Charles hit in the nose is still wailing the entire way, the little wanker. Charles waits until their footsteps have receded before he turns. Edwin is still sitting on the floor of the closet, knees drawn up to his chest and a furrow in his brow as he watches Charles. He's maybe sixteen or seventeen, barefoot and clad in flannel pajamas, his light brown hair tousled from sleep.

“Who exactly are you?” Edwin asks, watching Charles with trepidation.

Charles feels almost giddy with post-battle adrenaline. “I’m the servant of the sword. Well, the cricket bat. Like I said, mate, you summoned me, so now you’re my wielder.”

***

“So, you’re an enchanted sword,” Edwin says, watching Charles devour his second plate of spaghetti with the same single minded focus he used to fight off Simon and his friends.

He’s not sure why he didn’t go running to a teacher to tell them that there was a madman with a cricket bat hiding in cupboards on campus. He’s not sure why he allowed Charles to escort him back to his dormitory to “make sure those arseholes don’t try anything else.” He’s especially not sure why he left campus with Charles to grab a bite to eat after Charles mentioned how hungry he was. Objectively, these are all monumentally stupid decisions.

Maybe it’s the way Charles put himself between Edwin and his classmates without a second thought. Maybe it’s the fact that Edwin watched him fight and is sure that Charles could have done far more damage to Simon and his friends if he wanted to. Edwin has never seen anyone move that fast before. That the worst injuries dealt were a broken nose and a few bruises speaks to how careful Charles was to keep his promise to Edwin and not hurt anyone too badly.

Or maybe it’s that Charles is a beautiful boy that keeps smiling at Edwin and it’s been a long, long time since a beautiful boy smiled at Edwin.

“Sort of,” Charles says through a mouthful of spaghetti. “Really, it’s that my soul is bound to an enchanted sword.”

“But you’re not a ghost.”

“Nope. Immortal, actually. Can’t die. Trust me, plenty of people have tried to kill me.”

The server gives them an odd look as she walks by, shaking her head and muttering about “the drugs at that school.” Edwin sits a little lower in his seat. He knows that many of his classmates sneak off campus to the Treehouse, a restaurant which is open late and apparently very lax about checking IDs. St. Hilarion’s students are technically only allowed off campus unsupervised after Year 11 and only during daylight hours, but that’s never stopped Simon and his friends. Edwin has never been to the Treehouse before and feels a little thrill at having gotten away with breaking a rule.

Unless he ends up being murdered by an immortal warrior bound to a cricket bat.

“But there were no swords in that closet,” Edwin says. Knowing Edwin’s luck, he would have run himself through.

“Not anymore.” Charles pats his cricket bat, which leans against the wall next to the table. “One of my wielders was real paranoid that someone was going to steal me away from him, so he turned my sword into a cricket bat to hide it. He was going to turn me back eventually, I think, but I got stolen from him not long after that, so I guess he was right to worry, wasn’t he?”

Edwin has so many questions that he doesn’t know where to begin. He supposes he should start with the most pressing one. “So, when I picked up your cricket bat…”

“You summoned me,” Charles says brightly, looking at Edwin with those big brown eyes.

Edwin remembers that red light. He’s been trying to convince himself that he imagined it, but there’s no way anyone was in that closet with him before Charles seemed to appear out of the light. “You keep saying I’m your wielder. What does that mean?”

“Well, whoever wields the sword, or the bat, I guess, wields me. I’m here to protect you, fight your enemies for you, aren’t I?”

That’s a lot for Edwin to wrap his head around. “I don’t have any enemies.”

“Six blokes just tried to sacrifice you to a demon.”

“They wouldn’t have—”

“I took a look at that book. Not sure how Simon got his hands on it, but it’s a real grimoire. The spells in it work. If they tried to sacrifice you to a demon with it, it would have worked.”

Edwin swallows hard, regretting the plate of fish and chips he just finished. He looks down at his hands, which are pressed tightly together in his lap. “Thank you.”

“It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Not much good if I let my wielder get dragged to Hell by a demon five minutes after he summoned me. I’ve lost a lot of wielders, but that’d be a new record.”

Edwin glances up. “How many wielders have you had?”

“Too many to count.” Charles appears to be no older than Edwin, but he suddenly looks much older, like the weight of his immortality weighs down on his shoulders. Edwin wonders how many times there’s been a flash of red light and Charles has found himself face-to-face with a new wielder.

“What happened to the last one?” Edwin asks.

“I don’t know.” Charles shoves around forkfuls of spaghetti, gaze averted from Edwin. “Her name was Iris. She was a psychic medium. A powerful one. Loads of people wanted to use her for her powers. There was a witch who wanted to take me from her, so Iris made me get back into the cricket bat. She said she’d come back for me. That was in 1989, so I guess she never did.”

“1989?” Edwin looks him over, taking in the jacket, the earring, and the eyeliner. “That explains some things.”

Charles’s beaming smile returns. “Hey, the 80s were aces. Great music, great movies, great clothes. Probably my favorite decade and I’ve seen a lot of them. How’s 2025?”

“If you’re asking about the music, the movies, and the clothes, I am very much not the person to ask,” Edwin says dryly.

“Guess we can find out together, can’t we?”

Edwin feels his face flush under the force of Charles’s warm smile. “So, what happens now?”

“You tell me, mate.”

“Well, you’re no trapped in a cupboard, so I suppose you’re free to go to whatever it is that immortals bound to a cricket bat do,” Edwin says, confused.

Charles’s face falls and Edwin instantly feels like he kicked a puppy, though he’s not sure why. “That’s now how this works. You’re my wielder.”

“Charles,” Edwin says as gently as he can manage. This is why his only friend is Niko, the most forgiving person in the world. He’s rubbish at handling other people and their emotions. “I told you, I don’t have enemies to fight.” Charles continues to look crushed, so he adds, “I don’t even know how to play cricket. I think I’d make a rather rubbish wielder.”

“Well, you’re my wielder until you die, get defeated in battle, or pass me on to someone else willingly,” Charles says.

Edwin doesn’t like any of those options. He doesn’t quite understand this wielder business yet, but the thought of this bright-eyed, smiling boy being relegated to a weapon seems utterly wrong to him. But he can’t just stick Charles back in the cupboard and forget about him, not after Charles saved his life.

“So you’re stuck with me, yeah?” Charles flashes an uncertain smile.

“No, I believe you’re stuck with me,” Edwin says. “I’m not very good with people, I’m afraid.”

Charles’s smile widens. “I’m aces enough with people for the both of us. And if anyone gives you a hard time, I’ll just whack ‘em with my bat.”

Edwin snorts as the server comes over to pointedly put the bill down on the table.

Charles shrugs sheepishly and takes another bite of spaghetti, leaving a smear of sauce on his chin. It makes him look no less handsome. “Left my wallet in my other cricket bat, mate.”

Edwin sighs and reaches for the bill. He’s not sure what it means to have come into possession of an enchanted cricket bat with an immortal fighter bound to it. But he’s letting himself succumb to the tentative hope that it might mean that he has a new friend.

***

Charles always has a good feeling about new wielders. No matter how many of them he fails or how many trade him away, he always lets himself hope that this one will be different. Maybe this one will make it to old age with Charles by their side, protecting them until the very end. Maybe he'll never let this one down.

But he thinks that this time, he might be right. Edwin Payne seems different: a little awkward, a little prickly, but a good sort underneath it all. And he’s not a king, a general, or anyone else prone to ending up on a battlefield. Besides almost getting sacrificed to a demon by some dumbarse classmates, how much trouble can he really get into? If the worst thing he has to protect Edwin from is bullies, then this should be the easiest job Charles has ever had.

As they walk back to St. Hilarion’s campus side-by-side, Charles tilts his head back to feel the cold wind on his face. It’s a gray, miserable night, with no stars to speak of, but he knows they’re there, and that’s enough. After over thirty years in a cupboard, there could be a hurricane and it’d be the most beautiful weather Charles has ever seen.

“I have a single room, so you’ll need to sleep on the floor,” Edwin says apologetically.

Charles shrugs. “So long as there are four walls and a roof, I’m good, mate.”

“And you’ll need to keep a low profile. My teachers will have questions if I start walking around with a cricket bat-wielding bodyguard. Especially if Simon reports the boy who broke his nose. Did I mention that his uncle is the prime minister?”

“I can show you how to put me back into the cricket bat if you need to hide me.”

Edwin looks horrified at the very thought and Charles feels a stab of affection for his new wielder. Yeah, he has a good feeling about this one. And not even because Edwin’s pretty fit, though that helps. Those green eyes are something else.

“Charles?” Edwin asks as it begins to drizzle.

“Yeah, mate.” Charles holds out a hand to feel the cold raindrops against his skin.

“How did you end up bound to a sword?”

Charles thinks of his own useless screaming, his father’s merciless gaze, the burning agony of the sword driving into his chest. “Usual way, I suspect.”

“There’s a usual way to end up bound to a sword?”

“Don’t worry about it, mate.” Charles slings an arm around Edwin’s shoulder. “It’s a good life. I’ve seen the world, met plenty of interesting people. I’ll never die. If I’m hurt, just have to go back into the bat for a bit and I’m good as new. It’s brills.”

Edwin doesn’t look convinced. “Can you be freed?”

No one has ever asked Charles that, not in the many, many centuries he’s existed. He’s never really let himself think about it. “I don’t know,” he says, hearing the tremor in his own voice give him away. “No one’s ever tried.”

“Well,” Edwin says. “I suppose that’s another thing we can figure out together.”

Yeah, Charles thinks as the rain falls around them. He thinks this is going to be aces.

***

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving comments or kudos on AO3.

[stardustizuku]

Something I find extremely refreshing in AoB is how the narrative lets Rozemyne be a warrior, and the one with the most political influence on her own.

Ive read too many Isekai and almost all the time the power a Female Lead wields is entirely on who she marries or who is interested in her. She may be just the daughter of a marquis, but the crown prince is so infatuated with her, he’ll do anything! So that means he’ll solve all her problems for her!

Which is, fine in some cases. But I noticed this means that if she gets wronged, she’s the never the one to get revenge (even in so called “villainess” stories).

This ties into the idea of women having to remain “good”, so while they are allowed to want revenge, they can never enact it. Or at least not be the one to, through violence, deal the final blow. This would make them directly responsible for their actions. So while the villain/villainess can die, it can never be the FL who uses the sword to kill them. It always has to be through the Male Lead, another Villain, or even the Court System.

So by having the Male Lead be the one to physically enact the revenge or wielding the power - the Female Lead gets to come out as the “good” one in the READER’s eyes. Because her actions can never be morally grey (in fear of alienating readers)

HOWEVER by doing this you also make her power subservient to the man’s affection towards her. And makes her overall power to come off as…useless in some cases.

I just read one where the, supposedly, genius swordswoman is almost r*ped. She does try to attack the man, but gets overwhelmed. The prince is the one who jumps into the action to not only save her, but kill the man. Which was infuriating cause: Why did the author chose to rob her main character of being the one to hurt the men who hurt her? Minutes later she does kill a man, so it was entirely so she could be saved by a man from an even worse man.

But AoB doesn’t do that.

Rozemyne is powerful, because she wields insane amounts of power as Rozemyne. She’s the one who creates trends, she’s the one who knows the Bible, she’s the one who created paper books, she’s the one forming alliances and creating her own “faction” of sorts that is 120% loyal to her.

Never does her power become related to who she’s engaged with. Her power is inherent to her, and people try to tie her down or control her via marriage. She gets engaged to Wilfred because she’s becoming too influential and they hope that that can be transferred to Wilfred and cement HIS position as the next in line. She gets engaged to Sisgwald because she’s the one who is closest to getting the Book of Mestionora and they NEED her be part of the royal family.

The only instance in which she wields the power of who she’s engaged to get away with anything - is during the Ahrensbach attack and it’s simply a

Which facilitated everything but given the circumstances, she was gonna do it even if he didn’t give her his blessing.

Even with her endgame partner, Ferdinand, the dynamic is so different.

In most stories the FL attracts the attention of progressively more powerful and higher-ranking-than-her men, and most always ends up with the one with the highest political power.

In more than one occasion I’ve seen a FL ditch the knight who’s been with her since day 1, to be with the crown prince cause he’s the one who will make her the most powerful woman in the room. It’s always framed as “true love” but sometimes it’s done so poorly you can see that’s just the author wanting her to end up as a princess.

Ferdinand is never the most powerful man in the room. At least politically speaking. Yes, he’s the smartest, most capable and the one pulling the strings, but that doesn’t translate to political power. In part 2, in the temple, the one with the most power is Bezewanst. And part 3 an onwards, you could argue Rozemyne is always the one with the higher rank.

In the temple, she’s the High Bishop, and in the castle she’s an archduke candidate with Leisgang blood. Ferdinand is the High Priest and the half brother of the archduke with no real faction behind him. Rozemyne is aware that titles aren’t the only thing that matters and Ferdinand is obviously the best because he’s capable - but that’s not the norm in most Isekai stories.

It’s even used at times as a way to alíviate Ferdinand’s burden. She’s the High Bishop - she’s capable of denying extra work and even ordering him to take care of himself.

Even as Ferdinand is married off, the one creating connections to the royal family to alíviate his pain is Rozemyne, not the other way around. The one wielding her power to force others to protect her loved ones is HER. Ferdinand is, up to that point, only trying to save himself and Ehrenfest. Rozemyne fits the archetype of a Male Lead far better than Ferdinand in some cases.

And while she never gets to give out the order or kill someone whos wronged her directly, it doesn’t feel bad because one, Rozemyne rarely holds a grudge and sees them getting disposed outside of her eyes as the best way to handle it. Because two, she hates blood and unnecessary violence. And that, in the narrative, is genuinely presented as a flaw. It’s not a “she’s so pure she can’t be mean”, it’s a “she would do it but she genuinely can’t stomach it”. She could do it, she would rather not.

There’s also the fact that she’s genuinely good at combat - at least as a strategist, healer and commander. Her inability to wield a sword to directly attack others (but she did use the spear once) and frail nature, is not doesn’t feel like an excuse to not have her kill, but a limit. She can’t do everything. She’s filling a lot of positions, having her grab a sword is not only out of character but unnecessary.

The only people who she seems to hold a very real grudge against are Georgine and Detline, and that’s entirely for what they’ve done to others, not her. And while I’m still in part 8, her not being the one to directly kill then of get rid of them in the future, does not seem bad. Because Ferdinand and Sylvester have waaaay more reasons to hate them and get their revenge.

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

No, Amazon’s Rings of Power is not “woke”

It annoys me so much when people complain about Rings of Power being “woke.” First of all, because of the way they overuse the word, woke has become a next-to-meaningless term that can be applied to anything conservatives don’t like. Second, Rings of Power is only progressive in the most surface-level way; underneath that it is in fact extremely regressive. People who whine about Rings of Power being woke are not only annoying, they’re also just plain wrong.

Ever since the casting was announced, right-wing idiots have been shrieking about Black actors being cast in Rings of Power. These trolls have made all kinds of dumb statements about how Middle-earth = Europe, but they seem willfully ignorant of the fact that Europe has never been exclusively white, and there is no reason to exclude people of color from the cast of any Tolkien adaptation. Still, this didn’t make the show progressive in its casting (which was tokenistic) or its writing (which ranges from bad to horrible).

For instance, the only storyline Amazon writers could apparently think of to introduce Arondir was literally him being enslaved. I mean, really? Is that really the best plotline to go with? To be clear, I’m not criticizing the actor, I’m criticizing the writing. In addition, Amazon cast actors of color overwhelmingly in parts invented for the show—rather than as actual Tolkien characters—which more easily allows them to be sidelined by the narrative, and the casting overall was in no way diverse enough. So I find it bizarre that people criticize the show for its so-called wokeness, when very little effort was made from a diversity and inclusion standpoint.

Right-wing nutjobs also threw a fit about Amazon portraying Galadriel as a warrior, to the point where they started calling her “Guyladriel.” They whined about Galadriel being too feminist and too masculine in the show, but that’s the opposite of what happened and betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of Galadriel as a character. First of all, she fought at Alqualondë in one version of the story, so no one should have a problem with her wielding a sword. What IS a problem is everything else about her portrayal.

Amazon’s writers took one of Tolkien’s most interesting characters and stripped her of her power, her authority, her gravitas, her wisdom, and her ambition. They had Gil-galad, her younger cousin, order her around. They had Elendil compare her to his children, even though she’s older than the sun and moon. And they made her a petty, naïve, incompetent brat whose entire first season involves being manipulated by Sauron, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, having a bizarre will-they-won’t-they relationship with him. In addition, Galadriel is canonically tall and strong, and one of her names means “man-maiden,” but they made her short and waif-like instead.

Galadriel in Amazon’s show doesn’t even resemble the character Tolkien wrote—the character named Nerwen, who never trusted Annatar, who certainly never had some creepy Reylo thing with him, who was powerful and wise and authoritative, who had a marvelous gift of insight into the minds of others—not a quippy, rude, annoying idiot who is constantly being controlled by the men around her. I don’t know why anyone would look at Rings of Power and think this portrayal is progressive. It’s actually a failure of imagination: Amazon’s writers literally cannot conceive of a powerful woman even when all of the work of imagining her has been done for them.

In addition to the faux-feminist-and-actually-sexist portrayal of Galadriel, Rings of Power is also on the whole weirdly regressive from the standpoint of gender roles and gender expression. Tolkien’s Elves are canonically tall, beautiful, and long-haired, regardless of gender. Tolkien’s Dwarves all have beards. So what did Amazon do? They gave most of their male Elves short hair, while the female Elves still have long hair, and they did away with female Dwarves’ beards. They patted themselves on the back for “letting” Galadriel fight, but don’t show other female warriors—in battle scenes, for instance, why are all the soldiers male? In general, they made their characters adhere to conservative gender roles and gender expression, which is especially glaring because it contradicts what Tolkien actually wrote.

On top of all this, they decided to throw in some anti-Irish stereotypes with a side of classism, just for fun. They had the ragged, dirty, primitive Harfoots speaking in Irish accents, while the regal, ethereal, advanced Elves speak with English accents. None of the actors playing the Harfoots are Irish themselves, to my knowledge, which makes the choice to have them speak this way especially questionable. Seriously, who thought this was a good idea?

All in all, it makes absolutely no fucking sense to criticize Rings of Power for being woke. It may look progressive on the surface because there’s a Black Elf and a woman with a sword, but that’s as far as it goes. The show isn’t particularly diverse to begin with, and it treats its characters of color poorly. Galadriel’s portrayal is disgustingly regressive, as is the show’s overarching take on gender. This is to say nothing of the caliber of the writing in general, which is unsurprisingly low. There is so much to criticize—like the nonsense about mithril, or the fact that Celebrimbor of all people doesn’t understand alloys, or the fact that you can apparently swim across the Sundering Seas now—which makes complaining about the show’s supposed wokeness especially irrational.

I also have to wonder if the people still whining about wokeness know anything about Tolkien’s works. Do they know that the crown of Gondor was based on the crown of the Pharaohs of Egypt? Do they know that Tolkien considered Byzantium the basis for Minas Tirith? Do they know that female warriors already exist in Tolkien’s books? Do they know when they rant about how much they hate “Guyladriel” that Amazon’s portrayal is actually too feminine? Ultimately, people who complain about wokeness in Rings of Power—or any Tolkien adaptation—are just betraying their own idiocy. I honestly think if Tolkien’s books were published now conservatives would scream that they’re woke too.

[autisticlenaluthor]

Maroon

“That’s what you’re wearing?” 

It’s the first thing Kara says when she opens the door. Her eyes go wide and her brows shoot up– an involuntary response to the sight in front of her. And immediately, Lena retracts. She smiles, the way she always does when uncomfortable, and lifts her hands in defense. 

“Shoot– I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that,” Kara stammers.  “You look great– I mean, you always look great, really! I- I don’t know why I said that. Like– you could step on me, and I’d probably thank you.” 

She doesn’t know why that last bit slips out either. But it does. And for a solid five seconds, she freezes, beet-faced as she stares at Lena, who stares back, with brows raised so high her forehead creases to accommodate them. 

“I am… so sorry for that,” Kara murmurs after what feels like an eternity. 

She steps aside so her friend can enter the apartment and awkwardly adjusts her glasses, mentally kicking herself for, well, everything.

Because really, Lena doesn’t look bad. If anything, it’s the opposite. In a black button-down and plaid dress pants, Lena remains the most stunning woman Kara has ever seen. For embarrassing as they all were, not a word of Kara’s ramblings had been dishonest. 

“I just…” Kara shuts the door and fidgets uncomfortably as she approaches Lena. “It’s like a million degrees out, are you gonna be comfortable?” 

“I just came from work,” Lena responds. Her voice is flat, her posture stiff. 

“I- I know,” Kara says. “You do look very good.” 

Lena smiles. “Thank you.” 

She sucks in a breath and glances down at herself. She’d had a feeling this wasn’t the most appropriate attire. Kara had invited her to a baseball game at Aztec Stadium- not to a dinner party or board room. Now that she sees herself next to Kara, she does feel pretty ridiculous. 

“Could I…” Lena sucks in a breath. “Do you have something I could borrow?” 

“Oh– yeah, of course. Come with me!” 

They spend the next fifteen minutes in Kara’s bedroom, Lena perched on the edge of the bed while Kara digs through her closet. 

“I can’t wait to get nachos,” she says. “I know technically liquid cheese is kind of disgusting. But I feel like the rules don’t really apply at baseball games.” 

Lena hums and nods. 

“I’ve actually never been to one,” she says. 

Kara turns around, holding a few hangers and pairs of pants. 

“Any kind of sports, thing, really. Unless you count high school fencing.” Lena laughs as she says it. “But, I was the one doing the fencing.” 

“You fenced?”

“Yeah. For about three years.”

Kara pauses and folds the clothes over her arm. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

Lena shrugs. “I guess I got bored.” 

“You got bored sword fighting?” 

“Yeah, well…” Lena gives a teasing smile and raises an eyebrow. She’s going to make a remark about how she is a Luthor and after a while, the weaponry in fencing begins to feel a bit juvenile. But she keeps it in, unsure of how a joke like that will land. 

Thankfully, Kara doesn’t seem to notice the hesitation. She stays in the swing of things and holds up two pieces from her pile– a maroon tank top and jeans. 

“What about this?” She asks. 

“I don’t know…” Lena stretches out the words.

She tilts her head and scrunches up her nose as she says it. Kara can pull the look off. She’s nothing if not beautiful in her National City Warriors t-shirt and ripped denim shorts. But with her, it’s different. Because Kara’s muscular and tall. She’s got a sunshine smile and the softest golden waves. And as goofy as she may be, with her baseball cap and fanny pack slung across her body, she’s still her. She’s still perfect.

“Don’t you think I’ll look silly?” 

“No, I think you’ll look cute,” Kara answers without an ounce of hesitation. “But it’s up to you.”

Lena rises from the bed and steps forward to take the outfit from her friend. She wants to ask if Kara has another one of those big tees but the words escape her.

“Okay,” she says after a moment. “I’ll try it.” 

She strips and changes in front of her (with Kara, it’s never felt strange) while Kara talks to her about everything going on at CatCo. The new intern who Ms. Grant brought to tears on her first day (she brought her a mocha instead of a white mocha) and the techie who was fired for trying to steal one of the company tablets. 

“Lena!” Kara exclaims when she’s done. 

“What?”

Instinctive arms wrap themselves around Lena’s abdomen. She’s so exposed in this. Her stomach protrudes over the waistline of the jeans and the unfaded stretch marks she normally covers with concealer are visible. She’s too casual, she’s too sloppy, too–

“You look so good!”

Kara claps her hands together. She’s smiling so bright her eyes get all squinty and dimples appear on either side of her mouth.

“Wait- can I do something? Can I touch your hair?” She asks. 

Kara's s so happy Lena can’t help but oblige. She nods and smiles, letting her friend come over to her and carefully take the bobby pins out of her bun. She moves slowly with hands so gentle. It’s a welcome break from the nights when Lena gets home and rips them out fast enough that they take clumps of hair with them. 

“You look so nice,” Kara softly reiterates as she removes the first hair tie. “I don’t know what it is but you just… you feel so human, I guess.” 

The bun collapses into a ponytail and Kara carefully pulls out the second hair tie. She rakes smooth fingers through Lena’s hair, pulling it all back behind her shoulders. 

“Human?” Lena chuckles. 

“Yeah… I guess I’ve never really seen you outside of your work clothes. You’re always so put together but you just– I mean, you’re always beautiful. And now…” Kara hesitates. She needs something to do with her hands, so she goes back to combing out Lena’s hair. She can feel her face filling with heat, thankful Lena’s back is to her. “You feel less… less far away. Like, you’re less of an entity and more…” 

Lena turns around. Her expression is relaxed, save the knit in her brow, like she finally released the breath she’d been hanging onto. 

For a moment, she waits, clinging to Kara’s every last word, needing to know where she’ll land. But Kara falls quiet. She’s too focused on the inch of space between them. They’re so close she can smell Lena’s warm vanilla lotion and the faint scent of coffee on her breath, see the scab from where she chews her lip, and the freckles under faded foundation. 

“You…” She tries again but the word gets caught in her throat. 

“Kara?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I…”

Lena takes Kara’s hand in hers, intertwining their fingers as she steps forward and closes the gap between them. When their lips touch, she waits to feel the fireworks. The butterflies in her stomach, fluttering and pouncing with glee. But instead of an explosion that overtakes her, it’s a calm that washes over her body. Warmth that starts where Kara’s body meets hers, radiating all the way down to the tips of her toes.

It feels right. It feels safe. 

When she finally pulls away, Kara’s sunshine smile instantly returns. 

“You good?” She asks with a laugh, giving Lena’s hand a squeeze. 

“Yeah,” Lena says, smiling in a way that causes her nose to get all scrunchy and small. “I’m really good.”

[ilynpilled]

ill be real im starting to dislike so many reads of the ending of jaime’s last chapter in feast. not going back to essentially die with/for cersei is due to an amalgamation of factors. he is not doing it just out of spite and bitterness over the cheating, that is nearly as reductive as claiming it is this triumphant and redemptive act where he is out of the clutches of the “evil temptress”. no, it is the climax of a previous delusion that his life essentially revolved around being deconstructed entirely. the infidelity revelation onsets reflection, and while it still plays a major emotional role, it is far from being the only thing going on. it is a key disruption that makes the jc narrative fall apart fundamentally (he’s the knight/warrior, she’s the maiden. they are destined to be together. it is unconditional love that can be placed above all else because it is almost divine. she will need him. they will die together. he “cannot die while cersei lives.” “why would she need the warrior she has me.” “she will have need of him.”) jaime’s conversation with lancel, the confession to ilyn, the joanna dream right before the letter is burned, the inability to compromise with each other in asos, the clear distinct priorities, the reflection regarding what is gained and what is lost, the differences in sacrifice and devotion, the questioning of love, the visible deterioration and the cracks of the relationship becoming open wounds, and so on, are all emphasized in the text for a reason. he is not obligated to die for/with her. he doesn’t believe in this relationship anymore. just because it is not some triumphant redemptive act does not change all this and doesn’t mean that his decision should be misconstrued into him doing it simply out of spite. it marks a significant development. he is not her knight or sword anymore. the idealized knight/maiden destined lovers dynamic he used for self-affirmation collapses, gets confronted as something rooted in falsehoods, and is rejected. he is no longer her extension. it is just a milestone in jaime’s individuation.

[hanzajesthanza]

i feel like i just got so used to ciri and how natural ciri and geralt’s relationship left, via being introduced to the witcher via witcher 3, and then reading the middle of the saga before i finished the short stories…

that i never really innately picked up on the fact that ciri turning out to be geralt’s daughter and not his son was… uhm, part of the entire surprise, let’s put it that way :’)

geralt and ciri are just soooo natural as a father and daughter duo that i can’t imagine it any other way, if ciri had been a boy this would have been way less remarkable as a series, there would be no witcher series as we know it. so to me ciri being a girl was the normal and default, expected way things were supposed to go.

even when i read a question of price-sword of destiny-something more for the first times, i was like “ok” when ciri being a girl was a switch of expectations: geralt (and, supposedly, the reader) having expected pavetta to have a son. like… “alright, it’s a girl, so what.”

i had to be informed about how this was an intentional shock… not only because i’m not a parent, but i mean, well, ultrasounds get mixed up all the time, right… it’s not so uncommon to have a kid and be surprised by the gender…

and because of this, i was more inclined to eyeroll at blood of elves being preachy with going over ciri’s biological sex what seemed like ten million times in chapters two and three… what with the whole “daughter has her first period” subplot, ciri upset over her lack of potential strongmanship, and the witchers mostly relying on triss for guidance in raising a girl. the moral being both “just raise her like any other child” and “be sensitive to her needs that you’re blind to…”

although i still think these segments have visibly aged and date the series (not inherently a bad thing, just a quality of it)… they do make more sense when i try to empathize more with the perspective of a new father… who didn’t know he was receiving a girl… who thought she died… who only got her back through a miracle… and having to raise a girl… that’s not a young child anymore, not yet a teen, but is very shortly going to start going through puberty?! it’s like growing up in the desert, just learning what water is, and then getting thrown into the ocean.

because “having to raise a girl” still doesn’t seem that strange to me, but then i remember geralt didn’t see a woman and only had heard about them as a concept until he was an adult (because “warrior-monk” realness), he grew up with a hole in his heart that his absent mother bore, he lives in a highly gendered society, he experiences hostility from everybody of course but especially from women and girls, who take fright at him for… specific reasons explained by the old women in edge of the world…

no, geralt’s not helpless, but i forget, because he acts normal, but… (i mean, although he has issues, he could have really gone off his rocker with regards to women, a little sacrifice confirms this and vilgefortz embodies this) i forget that geralt’s inexperience with women… mostly manifesting in anxiety and both uncertain and impulsive behavior… like ghosting with a nosegay of flowers, the “dear friend” and all… would affect his view of the gender as a whole, including how he sees ciri. and it does.

in his situation, yes, having to raise a girl does intensify the element of “what the fuck am i doing”. especially as a single dad.

and although i do like it when the pov shifts from geralt in the saga but just to another person in the room, for how he becomes more of a distant and enigmatic figure, seeing him through others’ eyes always makes fills me with this uncertainty. buuuut, i would fucking adore blood of elves chapters two and three through geralt’s eyes just for how much of an emotional wreck he must have been… and trying not to show it to her :(

[wild-dagon]

Building on my prior post what does a role-reversed totk mean for Linked universe.

I have seen plenty of fics about Wild leaving the chain for his new adventure but imagine wild leaving the group and immediately getting tested back in time.

Imagine Wild once again I a new world where he doesn’t know anyone trying to navigate it. He’s trying to figure out where he is in the time line. If any of his brothers are here. You can have a lot of fun with where Rauru’s kingdom falls in the time line.

But it ends with wild swallowing the stone and becoming an immortal dragon clutching the broken Master sword to his chest.

Maybe he passes his 10,000 years watching over hyrule and seeing his brother eras come to pass.

Back with the chain.

The brothers are missing Wild. Maybe it’s right after he left, it’s still a raw wound. Right as they are trying to wrap their heads around the fact that they are now one link short they hear a roar. They jerk their heads around looking for the mister that’s attacking them only to see that in the sky is a giant dragon. Legend probably makes a snarky comment about not wanting to fight that thing. But the dragon just calmly flies over head of them.

As they continue their quest they will always spot the dragon in every new era they travel to. They can’t figure out why. All the people that they run into can’t see the dragon so why can they. Is it a part of the quest?

Meanwhile in Totk;

Zelda(flora) finally realizes what happened to Wild. She’s heartbroken for her knight as she watches him fly around the sky.

She’s also at a loss of what to do. How do you beat Ganondorf without the Master Sword. She knows that it rest with the Dragon!Wild but she can’t pull it. The blade won’t respond to her. She needs a hero, but hers is up in the sky.

Luckily Hylia drops off 8 hero’s fro her to pick from.

The chain arrives in Wild world. Originally they are confused on where they are. The world looks so different with the sky islands but Twilight would recognize Wilds world anywhere. Even with all the new monsters and that strange dragon flying around.

The group is hopeful. Maybe Wild has finished his second quest and can now join them again.

But it doesn’t take long for Sky to realize that the Master Sword is missing. They come to the conclusion that Fi merged with the current master sword which must be in Wild possession.

It takes them a little while before they see the castle. The currently floating castles with gloom spilling out from below it. It’s then that they realize that Wild hasn’t finished his quest.

Wind suggests that they are there to help Wild. That he’s probable waiting for them. Time, Legend and Warriors are less hopeful. Why would the goddess separate them from Wild in the first place if she was going to let them help in his quest later on.

They chain make their way towards the castle and make it to Lookout Landing, where they run into Flora.

One long explanation later the chain is destroyed.

Legend is furious with the goddess for letting this happen

Wind, Four, and Hyrule can’t wrap their heads around the fact that Wild is gone.

Sky hasn’t been totally with the story since finding out that Fi was destroyed.

Warrior is heart broken but trying to come up with a plan. The war prepared him to keep moving.

Time is devastated. A cross between Legend rage and Warriors need to keep the group moving.

And Twilight. Twilight can’t handle it. How can his cub be gone? How had this happened? How had he lost someone else? No this can’t be he has to get to Wild. He’s all alone up there. Why is he all alone up there.

This leads to Twilight wanting to get to Wild as quickly as possible. Maybe he goes up with Sky as he wants to check on Wild and Fi, but also because he has the most experience in the sky. Or maybe they all go up, borrowing paraglides from Flora and Purah. But either way they get up there and they find the Master Sword.

Now question of the day. Who gets to pull the sword from Wild’s skull?