#just watched arcane ahh drawing

[tantanart]

they be kissing

[greenlightbulbonawire]

Misfits (yeah like the Arcane song)

XLVII.

______________________________________________________________

Summary: From the dark musty cell of Stillwater all the way to the very base of Firelights, but where to from there? Guess you'll just have to let fate lead you.

Author's note: Here's another chapter for ya, but I'm seriously starting to run out of prewritten chapters so it seems that I may have to actually put work into this again, so we'll see we'll see lol, also if this fic has a lot of eroors and shit its cuz im a lazy ahh bitch and didnt do proofreading so yeah

previous chapter: Fourty sixth chapter

next chapter: Fourty eighth chapter

Masterlist

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, there you go, what now?” Ekko wiped his palms against each other, dusting them off and turned at you as you were rummaging through your bag. The device he basically created for you to help transport your new pet into the Firelights was finally ready to be put to use, and so to no one's surprise, you made the boy help you bring it to the street where Fae lived. At last, you pulled out more of the fruit she liked so much and tapped her head, drawing her attention away from what essentially was a flying cage to yourself. “I’ll teach her to go in it I guess. Fae, do you want this? Do you?” The fruit dangled in the air in front of Fae��s face as you teased the animal and then crawled into the cage, patting the ground next to you. “C’mere girl.” You said and showed her the fruit again. Ekko shook his head and watched with an entertained smile as you encouraged the creature to come to you.

And she did. Slowly and hesitantly but she did, wasting no time in getting the fruit from your hand and scrambling out of the cage again. The boy chuckled a little and waited for you to leave the cage too. When your feet were planted firmly on the ground he raised an eyebrow at you and gave you a questioning look. “She just needs time.” You rolled your eyes and folded your arms in front of your chest, taking a slightly defensive stance. “Whaat? I didn’t say anything.” He shrugged and chuckled again, and you gave him a long look with your mouth slightly agape. Was he serious? “Uh huh, sure.” You replied skeptically, at which Ekko rolled his eyes again and leaned forward, getting into your personal bubble, mimicking your folded hands.

“Please, don’t act…” His voice trailed off as he fixed his eyes on something in the background, his eyebrows shooting up. “Is she supposed to be doing that?” The boy asked and pointed at something behind you, causing you to turn and make a bewildered expression, before breaking into a run while screaming. “Fea drop that! That’s my board, give it back!” The salamander put her head up, looking at you getting quickly closer to her and grabbed the hoverboard she was chewing a few seconds before, running away from you. Ekko just stood with his as always gloved hands on his hips, watching the scene you two were making. “Get back here!” You screamed again in between fast breaths as you ran, chasing after the big lizard. “FAE!”

Finally, you gave up and stood, your arms resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath again, the boy slowly joining you by your side, an amused scoff coming out of his mouth. He watched Fae run around with the hoverboard making little jumps, seemingly very content with herself. “So much for training her, am I right?” Your answer to his snarky remark was a punch to a stomach, yet you didn’t think it through and instead of your fist meeting his stomach, it slammed against his metal breastplate, making a loud bang and spooking Fae, causing her to drop the board, her attention fully turned to you. You shook with your hand and straightened up with a groan. “I hate you. Both of you.” A quiet mutter escaped your lips as you watched Fae slowly approach, avoiding Ekko’s eye contact and repeatedly opening and closing the hand. “It’s not my fault your first reaction is violence.” He whispered back at you, a satisfied smirk plastered onto his lips.

When Fae got close enough for you to reach her, you jumped on her, grabbing her around her neck and tackling her to the ground. Your eyes shot up to the boy as he just stared at you. “Go get the board!” Ekko raised his shoulders and painfully slowly walked towards the laying device. You struggled to keep Fae in one place as she wriggled against your hold. “You got it?” You yelled at him, knowing you couldn’t hold the creature much longer. “Yeah, yeah.” He picked up the machine, inspecting it as he walked back to where you held the big lizard. A sigh of relief left your lips and you let go, releasing the beast. Fae squealed at you and gave you a sassy snort, walking a few paces away from you and begging to groom herself like she was a cat whose fur you just ruffled.

You dropped your upper body to the ground and stared up into the emptiness, before rolling onto your stomach and pushing yourself up again. “It’s busted though.” Ekko commented and pressed the board against your chest, making you take it back from him and secure it onto your back. “This is like the third hoverboard that’s been damaged and it somehow correlated to you.” He added and folded his arms, holding a hard expression for a few moments, before his lips curled into a smirk. “Are you trying to break a record or somethin’?”

[frenchublog]

Ur so cool and I love ur artstyle, it’s so unique and pretty. How long have u been drawing? Also if u only had one show or movie to watch forever and that’s it what would it be?

Thanks✨️

Ahh...since always I think. I used to be on DeviantArt (I wasn't very good lmao) then at 20 I decided to be more serious and really learn. Or at least try. In 2018 I joined twitter then a year later I was in art school and it greatly improved my level. I graduated in 2021 but I never stopped studying. I still have troubles with the basics and my anatomy skills could be better (let's not mention my awful colours) but I do try, everyday to learn something new but first and foremost always have fun with art. Because if you're not enjoying what you're doing, what's the point ?

(Drawing your favs does help👁👁)

You're asking me the tough questions. There are too many I'd love to bring in the afterlife lmao 📼 there are the obvious ones : The Mummy, PotC, Anastasia, Buffy, Hunter x Hunter, Arcane...

Then there are these : Little Shop of Horrors (you loved the Muses in Hercules ? Alan Menken did that already in that movie !) Shawshank Redemption, Mousehunt (okay, if you want to know what kind of slapstick comedy I love, this is the one. And it's directed by Gore Verbinski 💀small world!) The Nanny, Paulie the Parrot (instant tear-jerker. I still have the VHS) Kill Bill, Resevoir Dogs, Robocop, The Fly, Dogma, Starship troopers (hilarious), Galaxy Quest (oh...Alan Rickman) Jumanji, Mathilda, Sisters Act, The Devil wears Prada, The princess's diaries, The Grand Budapest Hotel...(and all the action movies I watched thanks to my father) let's not forget the animated movies that deserved better and changed my brain chemistry : Atlantis, Treasure Planet, Sinbad...

And there's more. The thing is, that question is so difficult to answer. It's like asking me what's your favourite color ? I simply can't just pick one...I love green and yellow but we also need orange and purple and blue ! Movies are like colours and I just need as many shades as possible in my life, otherwise I'd get bored ! I don't know if I'm making sense 🥴

So in conclusion, I just can't make up my mind 🐀

[freefloatingtemporally]

about me

feelin like maybe making a little intro into my blog for once!

i mostly rb general stuff here :)

my main blog for the dragon prince is @self-spaghettification !

aka my special interest of 10 months </3

quick content warning for my blog: i sometimes post depression/suicidal ideation based content! there also may be nsfw content, i don't really filter/categorize that!

other than that this blog is pretty much just media i like/wanna watch, things i find interesting, issues i care about, relate, or thirst lol

other stuff is below the cut

Hello there! ✧

This is me :]

i love:

❤︎the dragon prince

❤︎the magnus archives

❤︎arcane

❤︎goth subculture

❤︎psychedelic rock

❤︎vampires

currently consuming:

✰stardew valley (year 3 summer now…)

✰terraria once I get my pc restored

✰arcane (waiting for act 3 AHH)

✰mistborn by Brandon Sanderson

✰hollow knight ( I HAVE finished the main game now, just not col 3 or any of pantheon)

inactively consuming:

✰the magnus protocol

✰omori

✰Lego monkie kid (on s3 I think? I stopped bc I’m no longer friends with the person who was the main reason I watched it lol)

✰death note (I need to finish it tbh)

✰chainsaw man

✰revolutionary girl utena

✰adventure time

✰the bell jar (?)

✰vox machina (at my friend’s behest)

✰what we do in the shadows

things i plan to consume:

➢the case study of vanitas manga

➢dunmeshi

➢interview with a vampire (⬇️)

➢vampire diaries (⬇️)

➢hannibal (i blame miharin)

➢american psycho

➢everything on my letterboxd

➢tales of arcadia

➢amphibia (bc my sister)

➢the powerpuff girls rewatch <3

➢loki season 2

➢why women kill

➢discworld

➢live action atla

other things i enjoyed/consumed in the past!

❀our flag means death s1 & s2 <3

❀ You

❀hazbin hotel (ish)

❀scott pilgrim og movie

❀the magnus archives

❀the adventure zone

❀the penumbra podcast

❀nimona

❀atsv

❀raya

❀the owl house

❀fionna and cake

❀atla and tlok

❀good omens

❀my little pony (it's been a very long time though)

❀gravity falls

❀dsmp / sleepybois inc (why did like 50% of them end up being pedos/abusers 😭) (I’m also somehow not surprised )

❀sanders sides (when the season 2 finale comes out I’ll drop everything for it RAHH)

❀arcane (when s2 drops I’ll drop everything for it)

❀she-ra reboot

❀castlevania: nocturne

❀celeste

❀hades

❀glitchtale (&aus, of which i contributed to)

❀undertale (&aus)

things i like to do

♪be chronically online (jk but not really HAH)

♪analyzing media

♪journaling

♪drawing

♪writing

♪coding (sort of doing it freelance for money right now lol)

♪thrifting/fashion/altering codes

♪knitting

♪making playlists

♪making music

♪playing indie video games

♪walks and bike rides

♪doing silly things for the hell of it

[lemmielem]

Just recently watched arcane and accidentally got obsessed with silco, discovered your art and omg I love all of it!!!! Just wanted to say you're super talented and I love seeing your work!! 💖☺️

Ahh! You’re so kind! Thank you so much it means a lot! I’ve been having so much fun drawing him, I’m so happy I can share it with people like you who care!

[blooms-of-ice]

[ RP LOG ]

Lin pays Wyda a visit in jail.

Aislinn Like these things tend to go, the ship ride over seemed to drag on for much longer than Aislinn ever remembered the trip taking. By the time they made berth, she was ready, the first one down the plank and she made her way to the Aleport gaol with purposeful strides. She spied the guard, though the sight hardly slowed her steps. Instead, she approached and with little preamble let go a Maelstrom salute that walked the fine line between the cynicism of a veteran and the eagerness of a recruit. "Til sea swallows all." she said by way of greeting. It certainly couldn't hurt to start off by flex her credentials a bit. To let him know she had served under the Maelstrom.

The guard blinked in surprise as Lin approached. He could sense the determination radiating off of her, but for what purpose, he had no clue. It worried him somewhat. The guard returned the salute, and then sat back down in his chair. “Til sea swallows all. What can I do for you?”

Aislinn "Here to see one of your prisoners. Aiswyda." she replied, her tone clipped and efficient, her gaze steady on the man.

Ah, right. He had been told by the other guards to expect more visitors for that one. The guard flipped open a book and turned it towards Lin. “Alright, alright, but hold your horsebirds just a second. You gotta check in first. Sign here and mark today’s date in the box next to it.”

Aislinn Her shoulders relaxed somewhat. That was easier than she expected but she certainly wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. With a single nod, she leaned forward and signed and dated the book, a small tremble in her script the only outward sign that she might not be as self-possessed at the moment as she projected.

“Mhm. ‘ppreciate it. Follow me now.” The guard got up from his chair with a mighty stretch. Several, loud pops could be heard as he bent from side to side. How long had he been sitting?!

After some searching he eventually fished out a ring of metal keys from his pockets. With a nod of his head, he beckoned for Lin to follow, as he made his way deeper into the Aleport jails.

Aislinn stepped back to let the guard move past her before falling into his shadow as he led the way into the jail. Unlike those who had never stepped foot inside, she knew better than to gawk, to cast her gaze around like her head sat on a bleeding swivel. Instead, she seemed intent on something else entirely, her hands clasped together in front of her.

Some inmates bothered to open their mouths and heckle them as the pair moved past. Others didn’t notice them at all, preferring to sleep on the cold floor or simply stare at the stone wall ilms from their face. The guard grunted. “Feh, the new ones are always so fiery. Just takes a few moons to shut ‘em up. Anyway, here’s your stop. Ye got until me shifts up.” He motioned to a cell, and then took a spot against the wall not too far away.

Aiswyda was again staring out the window, intensely focused on how the clouds slowly moved into and out of her view. At the sound of the two stopping by her cell, she turned around. The sight of Lin filled her drained body with an echo of her usual spunk. She jolted up to greet her. “Ah! Lin! It’s so good to --- !!” There was a loud bonking sound. Wyda had hit her head on the jail cell bars. “Oww..”

Aislinn As she silently followed the guard, Lin seemed immune to the catcalls and abuse hurled their way. In reality she was too focused on discretely palming the smallest of her gemstone bracelets from her wrists into her hand. If Heartwood's report had been correct, she wasn't going to like what she saw when she met Wyda. As the guard came to a stop, she nodded and passed him a look of thanks as he went and took up a spot further down the wall...

Aislinn All that self-possessed efficiency went out the window as Wyda seemed to come to life, rushing to the front of the cell and colliding with the iron bars. Aislinn winced, hurrying to meet her, the bracelet flat in one hand's grip as she held the bars. "Wyda." she breathed out in a rush, her eyes scanning over the woman's face in concern. "I only just heard. How're you holding up? They treating you okay?"

Aiswyda: “Er, well. Um.” Wyda eyed the guard who stood nearby, watching for any reaction. “To put it lightly, staying here makes the Heartwood company housing feel like a five star resort.”

Aiswyda rubbed at where her head had made contact with the bars. As she lifted her arm, her sleeve fell slightly, exposing a constellation of bruises and half healed cuts that dotted her arms. Wyda quickly lowered it back down and pulled the cloth down, self conscious. “How've you been?”

Aislinn And there it was, that flare of anger at the sight of the injuries. Like a red hot blade drawn from a forge. She had never had the temper Barengar had, she spent most of their childhood talking him down from doing something stupid, but seeing people she cared about mistreated was one surefire way to stoke the coals. She breathed out, slowly. Nothing good could come from her being angry right now. Nor was it what Aiswyda needed. Another breath until her temper had cooled into something sharper. "Nevermind that." she said with a shake of her head. "All the same. The Company's working to get you out of here as soon as we can."

Aiswyda felt a wave of emotions wash over her. Gratitude, but also guilt. She was so glad that Lin had come to visit, and that the company as a whole was working towards getting her free. But did she deserve all that effort? If only she hadn’t gotten thrown in jail to begin with! If only she could free herself on her own. She hated being a burden on others. It stung like sea salt on an open wound.

Aiswyda: “Ahh, yeah! I hope it’s not too big of a bother. I can’t wait til we can all look back at this moment and laugh...Or forget about it. Both would be fine.” Wyda cracked a small smile, but even that motion seemed to give her trouble. She rubbed her temples afterwards.

Aislinn "What're you talking about, bother?" Aislinn said, almost wanting to laugh but somehow the sound wouldn't come out of her throat. "You think any of us would just let  you sit here for something you didn't do?" her lips compressed as she watched Aiswyda's obvious discomfort. She tapped the bars with both forefingers and glanced meaningfully at her hands in a subtle attempt to get the woman to grip the bars as she was doing. "Not sure when you'd have the time to go off and do some pirating without any of us knowing about it, after all."

Aiswyda: “Haha, anyone who ‘pirates’ as a hobby would get my respect. It’s more of a full time commitment, from what I hear.” She managed a dry laugh at the idea. A pirate in the Black Shroud? It sounded more like the beginning of a bad romance novel.

Aiswyda noticed Lin tap the bars of the cell. Her eyes quickly glanced up at the guard, who was still staring intently at the two of them. But he couldn’t see through Lin’s back, right? Wyda wrapped her hands around the bars...somewhere that was blocked from the guard’s view.

Aislinn "Piss poor pirate, otherwise." She leaned closer to the bars and shifted, her body hopefully blocking the guard's view of one hand. Slipping her hands over the Seawolf's own as any concerned friend would do, deft fingers tucked the bracelet snug between one of Wyda's palms and the iron bars as she continued talking, her voice never wavering or speeding up out of nervousness. As if she had done this kind of thing before. Maybe not *exactly* this, but something like it. ...

Aislinn "The report said someone by the name of Momori Mori's been round to see you. That she's going to help us track the Red Argos down. What's she like?" She tried to communicate with a level gaze, willing Wyda to understand about the gemstones. To remember how Aislinn managed her aether manipulation. To follow her lead and not give the little bit of sleight of hand away.

(Aiswyda) oh ho! :O )) (Aiswyda) these are like, the aether filled bracelets right? )) (Aislinn) ((Yup! The backup batteries she uses ^_^))

Aiswyda ‘s eyes widened as the other woman slipped her a gemstone bracelet. She was unsure what to do with it, and that anxiety manifested with her completely clamming up. Her hand tightened around it as her mind raced. Think, Wyda, think! Okay, so she had seen the other woman use it while healing. Perhaps she could use it to heal herself?

Aiswyda: “GHf. Momo? Oh! Yes, the weird lalafell.” Wyda fidgeted with the bracelet. “Err, she’s kind of weird. Very focused. Really odd sense of humor. But I guess overall, she seems...professional?” If by some freak accident, Wyda began to tap into the bracelets power, aether draining from them with alarming speed. The aether seemed to just...get sucked into her.

Aislinn As Aiswyda spoke, Aislinn nodded, her attention rapt on Wyda's face but one finger of her grip continually moved along the back of the Seawolf's hand. To any casual observer it would look like nothing more than the nervous tics of a worried friend. But in reality Aislinn was slowly but surely writing out an arcane formula that would draw aether from the gemstones to lessen or block some of the pain stemming from the Aiswyda's injuries. However, she felt the sudden aetherical tug ....

Aislinn as the bracelet began to release the stored aether much sooner than she anticipated. Her calculations ceased. What had happened? The stored aether just seemed to drain away. Her brow furrowed. A hiccup in her plan. "Weird." she repeated, though she might not have been referring to Momori. Quickly, she recovered. "But she's willing to help, which is a plus for her in my book." She didn't dare try to tap into her own aether, suddenly recalling the one time she had tried to teach Wyda some magic. She passed the woman an apologetic look.

Aiswyda - Though the cuts and bruises remained, Wyda found that her headache had mostly disappeared. She desperately wanted to ask Lin about the bracelet, and if she had used it right. Honestly, the Seawolf hadn’t intended to use it at all. Whatever just happened, just sort of happened. Naturally.

Aiswyda: “Yeah, she is. But not as. Weird as. Those nifty bangles I see you wearing, eh? Magic. How the heck does that work?” Her voice was turned up a notch higher, as she tried to word her question in the least suspicious way possible.

(Aiswyda) wyda: NOTHING TO SEE HERE!!! :) :)  )) (Aislinn) ((Aislinn: oh no)) (Aiswyda) Random! 957 (Aiswyda) oh well thats good )) (Aislinn) ((Lol!))

The guard doesn’t pay Wyda’s ramblings any mind. He yawns, in fact.

Aislinn did her best not to startle but it was a good thing the guard couldn't see Aislinn's face. She stared wide-eyed at Aiswyda as if to say 'By the Twelve, Wyda, you can't just ASK people how they do magic'. But with the oddness of the rapidly drained aether, she could guess what the Seawolf was getting at. With practiced calm, she pushed up her sleeve to show the woman a better view of her bracelets. "Well, sure. You know. Remember how I told you there were different schools....

Aislinn "Some use their personal aether, some use aether stored in other ways. Those grimoires you see the bookish type toting around. They're written with enchanted ink. Made from rubies or other...*stones*" she said pointedly as she brushed her sleeve back. "Some have to do some tedious calculations to make it work...others just seem to pull aether from the air or...what have you. Quickly."

(Aislinn) ((Annnd that's my first ever 'Mean Girls' reference in RP ^_^)) (Aiswyda) pff I love it ))

Aiswyda nods along. The jail isn’t exactly bursting with aether - a measure that the Maelstrom probably put in place to keep mages from simply blasting their way out. But the bracelet is. Or was, at least. With more purpose this time, she tries to draw aether from the drained bracelet, and nothing conclusive happens. With a sigh, Wyda covertly slips it back to Lin.

Aiswyda: “It’s a bit hard to learn conjury on the fly. I MEAN. You know, theoretically speaking? Haha!” Wyda gives the guard another worried glance. And then, in a hushed whisper: “Thanks anyway.”

Aislinn she nods, slipping her hands back to the bars. "I don't know. Some people pick it up quick. With conjury, say, a person really isn't limited to their own aether or some book. Technically speaking everything alive has aether." she hurriedly adds. "Plants." trying to make it clear she's not advocating Wyda tap into another person's aether.

Aiswyda: “Plants. Right.” Wyda looked at her mostly bare cell. Stone walls, a stool, a small window. Really not much to write home about. “A bit out of luck in that department then.”

Aiswyda - In terms of living things, there were only the guards and other inmates to draw on. Though perhaps if a gull flew close enough by the window... Wyda shook her head. Just idle thoughts.

Aislinn bit her lower lip as she followed Aiswyda's gaze around the small, cramped cell. "Insects." she added lamely. She heard the guard shift behind her. She knew what that meant. Time was almost up. She let go a troubled breath. "Listen Wyda, I've been where you are. Except I didn't have anyone. You have Heartwood. We're gonna get you out of here. Bet on it."

Aiswyda: “You’ve been where I...?” Wyda frowned, displeased by the sudden news. Though neither the time nor place, she reached out and gave Lin’s hand a squeeze. “That’s awful! If you ever need someone to talk to...”

Aiswyda - The guard cleared his throat, and Wyda jolted slightly. “Take care of yourself Lin. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Aislinn gives something approaching a smile. Leave it to Wyda to be concerned on someone else's behalf no matter how dire her own situation. "I will worry. And I'll be back to visit again tomorrow. I'll be here every day until that Momori has something for us to do about this."

Aislinn taps the bars once and then drops her hands. "Stay strong."

[spicedrobot]

More Than Enough

Fandom: Hollow Knight Pairing: Lemm/Quirrel Warnings: slight angst, handjobs, frotting, blowjobs, Quirrel has two dicks my dudes Notes: This is just horny...again...this fic is for SOME PERSON who i REFUSE TO NAME who CURSED MY DICK!!

-

They’ve been dancing around this for the better part of a year. Glances caught, ghosting hands, conversations that waver on their tongues, attuned, distracted. 

Their first kiss had been on the docks of Blue Lake, the catch of lips swallowed by the ambience of water whispering against ancient wood. Gripped by a gently shaking hand, he had led Quirrel back into the endless rain, the dreariness of the forsaken city lessened by another’s hand bleeding warmth into his own.

They talked so little at first. The fog that had enveloped Quirrel lingered for weeks, ghosts that would not free him so easily. He would not eat, would not sleep, his dreams plagued by an old life and an ancient master. Lemm would not dine without him, spoke mindlessly when he himself preferred the quiet, anything to enliven the lightless eyes of the one who he had come to hold dear. Lemm passed those early, fearful days by showing Quirrel his collection, rattling off the ages of the artifacts, the builds, the precision of the artisan’s tools, anything he could remember. Quietly he thrilled at Quirrel’s sparse replies, addenda, augmentations of an relic’s use, of where he had seen it before, in deeper, darker places that Lemm dared not tread. And Lemm would nod along, etch Quirrel’s words onto stone. 

Day by day, piece by piece, Quirrel began to return to him. 

He set Quirrel to run the storefront while Lemm painstakingly labored over one of the little ghost’s arcane eggs. They supped together. They slept together. At first, at the edges of the mattress, shared out of necessity rather than any harbored affections. The kiss had been desperation, and Lemm reminds himself of this each night, chilled and yearning for the heat at his back. 

So very much later, years it had seemed, the warmth he had dreamed about came to him. An arm curling around his hip, snuggling closer, easy, sleep-soft breath against his carapace. Lemm hadn’t slept a wink that night. Nor the next time it occurred. 

Lemm is not like the impenetrable stone parapets of the city. Each time Quirrel burrowed against him, his harsh edges whittled away into loveworn grooves. Smooth lines that lead to a place that makes his heart shudder in his chest. Then the moment when Quirrel’s voice says into the silence of their sleeping quarters:

“That day at the lake...you kissed me.”

Lemm goes stock still. He can’t do much else, not with Quirrel tucked against his back, his arm across his waist. And it was true, he had kissed him, but what did Quirrel want? An apology, a reason? 

So quietly, Lemm barely hears the words whispered into his neck.

“Why haven’t you done it since?” 

Lemm should think this through, be gentle, patient. Didn’t he have that in droves? The relic seeker who could spend a lifetime restoring forgotten things with little more than a frustrated sigh? Lemm turns over quickly, but Quirrel does not move back. Faces inches from one another, wide eyes, a gently slackened mouth.

Annoyance is so easy here. Safe like a well-worn glove.

“What do you want from me?” Lemm grumbles, sputters as Quirrel’s eyes dip momentarily to his mouth. “I did not...want you to think that you owed me anything for staying here—”

The kiss is different than their first. Tentative for a moment as lips meet, strangely soft, addictive, responsive like they weren’t before. Hot like they weren’t before as Quirrel surges close, Lemm’s gasp claimed and pursued by the slip of his tongue. Quirrel’s hand at his cheek and neck, anchoring him, trapping him, stealing his hesitation.

Lemm doesn’t know if he’s ever been kissed like this, even when the city was a vibrant thing, when his carapace had shined, fresh and new. Now, in this forgotten place, two remnants of history learn one another with the eagerness of life.

He should be tentative, more careful, but Quirrel is not a delicate artifact or precious trinket, he moves, breathes, moans into his mouth, the sound burning through him, awakening him, cobwebs swept away, dust lifted. Lips slide, become messy, wet, hands upon shoulders, throats, like there is nothing else. They come alive, gentle, needful throbs, thighs clenched, shifting close, the tentative first drag, afraid, maybe, of what it could mean.

“D-do you want me to?” Lemm manages between lips and teeth, hands slipping down Quirrel’s back, feeling the grooves of his carapace, smooth against roughened fingers. 

Like a strike, the response comes faster than he can believe.

“Yes—”

Oh, he should be careful, where is that practiced restraint? Filthy old man, palming greedily down Quirrel’s front, eyes trained on his face, watching each moan, the faint, growing violet coloring his cheeks. 

“B-but you should know that, o-oh, uhm, ahh—!” 

He grasps Quirrel’s cock, half-emerged, flushing madly when it twitches against his palm, freezing when he feels something else brush his knuckles. Lemm blinks rapidly, drops his gaze to confirm what his mind fails to acknowledge.

Another cock, a twin to the first, tinged purple and beaded at the tip, leaving a line of pre along the back of Lemm’s hand. 

“Two…”

Quirrel covers his face, groaning.

“I’m sorry...”

“Sorry?” Lemm’s answer is a growl. He pushes Quirrel’s hand from his face, kisses him hard and quick while his free hand slips between them. “Ridiculous. Though you would make an old man work hard like this…”

Quirrel half-laughs, half-moans, clapping a hand over his mouth as Lemm strokes him, each pump gently off kilter from the other. His touch glides easily as Quirrel leaks, body quaking, cocks plump and needy in his grip. Gods, he can’t believe he’s doing this, could never even have dreamed of it, having Quirrel open to him, twisting and moaning beneath his touch.

It makes him greedy, mad for it, makes him mad for his madness.

“How shall I do it, wanderer?” He breathes, his own words shocking even himself. “One at a time? One in my mouth...the other waiting for its turn?”

“Lemm—!” Quirrel squeaks, his lower body throbbing, copious pumps of pre dribbling over his speeding fingers. 

“Do they spill in tandem? Or does one throb and finish while the other suffers?” 

The eyes set upon him staggers his words, bright and needful. For all that Quirrel blushes and stutters, his hands find him, resolute, even as they tremble against Lemm’s cock, the forgotten thing dripping and aching against his stomach. His touch is sloppy but eager, and Lemm hisses into it, dizzied by the pleasure that scores through him. 

“Not just me, my friend…” Quirrel whispers.

Lemm’s motions slow as Quirrel’s hands press upon his own. His cocks align, flushed and glistening in the light from the window. For a moment, Lemm simply stares, mouth dry, heart thundering. Then the notion clicks into place. Lemm shifts his hips, his own tapered cock catching against Quirrels’, butting into the seam between them. 

The shuddering moan that follows steals his own breath, his body feeling like a stranger, alien, alive. He presses harder, cock slickening, slipping, sinking into the space between with a swear on his breath. It’s tight, and warm, a near perfect clutch when Quirrel whimpers and shakes. It must be little more than a tease for him, but his eyes are glazed, locked on Lemm’s, lips shined and half-parted, gasping freely as Lemm ruts.

It should not be fair, how close it brings him so soon, when Lemm has one and Quirrel two, but with each thrust, liquid heat between his cocks, the tip of his own kissing Lemm’s stomach, dragging along its segments, ribbed and teasing, Quirrel’s hands an unforgiving weight upon his own, keeping each thrust hard and tight, all he can do is bury deep against him, stomach to stomach, mouth to mouth, Quirrel kissing him as he spills over his stomach, groaning weakly into his body.

Lemm catches his breath, embarrassingly labored, against Quirrel’s throat. The weight lifted, Quirrel’s hands displacing his own, his love’s breath picking up, touching himself, lips caught between his teeth.

Lemm huffs, the idea of watching Quirrel take himself apart quickly overcome by his own tired annoyance.

“You think so lowly of me?”

Quirrel’s eyes widen so prettily as Lemm shifts down the bed, capturing Quirrel's hands and pinning them to the mattress. The wanderer flat on his back, his cocks against his stomach, glossy with Lemm’s seed and his own pre.

“I’ll not leave you like this.”

Again, his name from Quirrel’s lips like a prayer. Damn him, how crazy he makes Lemm. His tender, wistful smiles and words that sound like they come from someone whose lived so many lives and seen so many things.

He takes Quirrel with his mouth, led by his soft, shaking cries, pinned hands twisted into the sheets, his stilted rocking, begging for more. His other cock brushes by his cheek, granted a gentle kiss and lick when it seems Quirrel draws close to his end, teasing him until his own cock thickens once more. 

“Please, Lemm...I want to touch you…”

Lemm only hushes him, draws him deeper, holds him down as he takes him apart at his leisure. A high-pitched warning, a moment too late, Quirrel coating his tongue and lips, near tasteless, gently sweet. Lemm tsks, voice roughened and wavering. He stares up the sloping curve of Quirrel’s body and into his darkened face, the drop of drool at the edge of his lips, the glaze of his eyes arresting, a piece he would never tire of.

“Seems I was right…” Lemm whispers, lips brushing against Quirrel’s untouched cock, which jerks at the attention. “Such a pain.” But his words are listless, heat-laced as his swollen mouth descends once more.

All bluster, and they both know it.

[kinsale42-blog]

Excerpt: Renewal

Khadgar/Kalec (m/m, full work is explicit)

  "How old are you now, Khadgar?" Kalec asked his friend, who had appeared to be somewhere in his sixties for about the last three decades.

  Khadgar sighed heavily, staring into his pint. "Forty-five. Last week, in fact. " He absentmindedly stroked his long, white beard. It hadn't taken him long to develop the habit after Medivh had forced the unnatural age upon him. It was deeply ingrained now.

  Kalec suspected that under the beard and matching long white hair, Khadgar looked much younger than the sixty-seven or so that everyone took him for at first glance. The well-aged violet robe he wore did nothing to help, either. He also suspected that Khadgar's recent demeanor of resignation was related to the anniversary of his birth and having to face the relentless onslaught of age compounded with the burden of premature age he'd already carried for far too long. Kalec decided that drastic measures were necessary. Khadgar needed to stay sharp and fighting fit. Deathwing was dead and the dragons were in decline. The age of mortals had begun. If anyone was to protect Azeroth from threat of destruction, it would have to be powerful champions like Khadgar.

  In one of the side alcoves of the tavern, he caught a glimpse of Miralisse, the local tailoring mistress. Excusing himself for just a moment, he went over to have a word with her. Khadgar watched as they engaged in discussion, missing Kalec's gesture towards him as he took a long swallow of his ale. Miralisse seemed to agree with whatever Kalec was proposing, nodding her head and making some hand gestures that appeared to describe the width of something. They apparently reached some agreement, and Kalec returned to the table.

  "What's up with her then?" asked Khadgar, well into his third pint. It had been a rough week. Getting anything done had been like slogging through hip-deep mud, including things he usually rejoiced to have time for, like research. Everyone had seemed testy, even A'dal, although Khadgar suspected it was really just him. When was A'dal ever less than perfectly patient with anyone?

  "Ahh, I was just making some arrangements. You'll see soon enough." Kalec hid his grin behind his glass.

***

  A week later, in his rooms on the top floor of the guest house where he was staying in Shattrath, Kalec finally brought up the idea of a clean shave and a good haircut to Khadgar. "It will make you feel like a new man," he said. "Trust me. It will be like shapeshifting, only with less discomfort."

  Khadgar looked doubtful. His thick white eyebrows drew together over sapphire-colored eyes.

  "At least try it, friend. See what you think." Kalec really didn't want to have to beg, but he was more certain than ever that something needed to change. And he had those new adventurer's robes hanging in his wardrobe, just waiting to be unveiled. It would be a shame if the rest of Khadgar didn't look the part of the rugged adventurer.

  Khadgar sighed. "All right. You seem convinced. I've just looked this way for so long..." He trailed off as he realized that was part of his recent frustration. He was indeed getting older but he never looked any different. Yet another normal human phenomenon that this curse had stolen from him. "Yes." he said, more firmly. "Let's do it."

  So Kalec sat Khadgar in a straight-backed chair in the middle of the sitting room and draped a towel round his shoulders. He fetched the sharp dwarven-steel razor that he used for his own face, and with a swift motion of one hand, conjured a bowl of steaming water ready to soften Khadgar's beard for shaving after it had been trimmed. He set the basin on a nearby table, and used the razor to trim off the length of Khadgar's hair and beard. Long white streamers of surprisingly silky hair fell to the floor around them.

  As Kalec fine-tuned the trim of his hair, Khadgar could feel the unfamiliar sensation of air movement on his neck. It was so cool as to be nearly frosty, and there was a rhythm to it...Khadgar realized it was Kalec's breath. A blue dragon is generally frost-aligned by nature, even when shapeshifted into a half-elven body, apparently. Khadgar made a mental note of this.

  Then Kalec finished the shave, gently drawing the sharp edge of the razor across the planes of Khadgar's face. He was intently focused on doing this without harming Khadgar in the slightest, and his augmented draconic senses made it easier than it might have been otherwise. To Khadgar it felt more like the whisper of a caress than a blade. His mind was confused suddenly because his body was reacting strangely to the sensation. His pulse quickened and he could feel a flush rising up his neck into his face. Khadgar tried to calm himself, and breathed as deeply as he could without moving and risking injury from the razor.

  And then it was done. Kalec stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was a definite improvement. He removed the towel and brushed the stray hair off of Khadgar's faded violet robe. Another movement of his hand and the hair on the floor swirled itself up into a tidy ball that deposited itself in the nearest wastebasket.

  "Now," said Kalec, "come with me and I have something else for you before you are allowed to see yourself in a mirror."

  Khadgar raised an eyebrow, but obediently rose and followed Kalec into the next room. The dragon approached the wardrobe and opened one of the doors. He reached in and with one hand pulled out a blue adventurer's tunic and leggings, complete with a stylish long sash, a soft brown leather overtunic, and an intricately feathered capelet. With the other hand he picked up a pair of matching soft boots.

  "This will be far more appropriate for the sort of work you do than that old robe, and far more up-to-date. Quite possibly more comfortable as well." He laid it across the bed. "Try it on."

  Khadgar looked at his old friend. "You had this made for me? Is that why you were talking to the tailor in the inn that night?"

  Kalec nodded. "Consider it a gift for your birth anniversary ritual...birthday? That is an appropriate time for gifts, is it not?"

  "You are too kind, Kalec." Khadgar had to admit, it did look nice. And such a perfect shade of blue, like the skies of Lordaeron after the ribbons of sunset color had faded. It really did appeal to him. So he slipped his ancient wizard's robe off over his head and replaced it with the new tunic and leggings, and changed his boots. As Kalec helped him figure out how to fasten the sash, Khadgar asked, "What sort of cloth is this? I don't recognize it. It's very soft."

  "It's windwool," answered Kalec. "The latest thing out of Pandaria. Some combination of goat hair and butterfly silk, I believe. They say it's the most durable thing you can get right now, and it holds its color perfectly for years. It is indeed both elegant and comfortable."

  Khadgar pulled the overtunic over his head and only when he went to fasten the belt did he notice that the buckle was fashioned in the shape of a raven's head. His mind was immediately full of memories of his former mentor, who had liked to transform into a raven when the whim took him, and indeed had allowed the young apprentice Khadgar to carry his staff long enough to teach him the trick of it.

  Kalec saw him pause, and correctly deduced the reason for it, but paid no heed. Instead, he draped the short blue-feathered cape across Khadgar's broad shoulders, adjusting it until it settled properly. He tweaked the blue undertunic and sash until it lay properly, and pulled the overtunic down a bit in the back. Finally he was pleased with the effect, and opened the other wardrobe door to reveal a full length mirror.

  Khadgar turned to look into the mirror and saw a strange man looking back at him. He touched his hair where it stood in silver spikes above a face he barely recognized. Those were his eyes, and that was his nose for sure, but it had been so many years since he had seen the chin...he touched it to be sure it was actually him. The skin was still loose like an old man's but it was smooth, and the chin was still strong and resolute, and he certainly looked younger than he had an hour before.

  He was most pleased with the new outfit. The feathers, the belt buckle, the glorious shade of blue that made the blue of his eyes more radiant, it was all perfect. How Kalec had dreamed this up was beyond him, but he felt far more energized than he had in weeks.

  "Kalec. Friend. I...I don't know how to thank you for this. You were right, I feel like I have been remade." Khadgar shook his head in disbelief, an unstoppable smile lighting up his face.

  "It suits you. There are many adventures yet in your future and I am sure this will help you face them with a strong heart." Kalec smiled at Khadgar's almost childlike pleasure. He tried to think of how best to suggest the one other remedy he could provide that could help rejuvenate his friend. It was constantly on his mind that his era was ending, his power was fading. If there was any way that he could bestow even a tiny fraction of that power on someone he knew could make good use of it, he wanted to do so before it was too late. And he could not think of anyone more worthy, more in need of it than his friend Khadgar.

  Kalec reached out to adjust the buckle on the neck band of the cape, allowing his fingers to brush the warm skin of Khadgar's neck just where the blood flowed closest to the surface, and let just the faintest breath of arcane energy to slip off the end of his fingertips. It had the same effect that using his power had while shaving Khadgar's face. Khadgar's pulse picked up and his body became sensitized. He turned from the mirror to find himself looking into Kalec's violet eyes.

  "Khadgar." Kalec spoke softly. "There is more I can give you, if you will allow it, if you are open to it. I can replace some of what Medivh took from you." He had been researching it privately, and found more than a few instances in dragon lore where mating between dragons and mortals had given the mortals prolonged lives and heightened senses, and with some who were naturally attuned, increased power. "You know I cannot produce children of my own, and I would share my power with someone who could use it before I have nothing left to give."

  Khadgar was entranced. This was not like the proposition of a demon, who offered power only in return for ultimate sacrifice. Kalec was a blue dragon, uncorruptible by fel magics. He was not immune to other dark forces, but Khadgar could sense no presence of those in this room, in Kalec. Was it really possible that Kalec could restore some actual youth and vigor, after all this time as an old man? He stared back into Kalec's eyes. He wanted to say yes...

full text available at http://archiveofourown.org/works/8307616