#kelran

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nine lines nine people

tagged by @vacantgodling, thank you! a touch more than nine from the current revisions im doing on A Question of Trust, ft ‘Rizeth Why Are You Already Making Problems For Yourself, You’ve Been Dating Him For Ten Days’

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He could just about make out Ashenivir from here, on the floor amidst a group of laughing, smiling guests, River and Mara to either side of him. His collar glittered in the light of the chandeliers, a sparkling beacon of ownership that now went so much further than the playroom. Everything Rizeth had wanted for so long, sitting right there. Behind his back, his fingers dug into his wrists. Kelran rapped the top of his head with his fan. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” Rizeth said, sharpening his glare to ward off another assault. Kelran spun the fan instead, twirling it in somehow accusatory circles. “This is the first relationship you’ve been in for the better part of a century. Your mulish silence and the fact you look as if you might throw up all over my very expensive sandals does not incline me to believe that everything is, in fact, perfectly fine. What have you done?” “Nothing,” Rizeth reiterated, and that was both the truth and the problem.

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i’ve done a bunch of 9/9s lately and i cannot think of anyone i haven’t tagged for it, so if you haven’t done it, consider this an open invitation to share 9 lines with me

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso @notwritinganyflufftoday (ask to be +/-)

[thespacelizard]

i want you to know that sometimes i play thought games of inserting val into obedience sometimes fjdkasl he would like stillgleam's dungeon... would have to become a good enough dom to be allowed to play there though

asdklasj i am so intensely happy/flattered to have Val paying an OC visit to obedience town

him facing off against Kelran to be allowed to play at the House is super juicy. esp with Kelran being the Polite Faced bitch that he is. but he could def find someone(s) for Val to play with, once he was convinced to let him in

[feeble13]

haunted one

[edraculation]

•w• hiis naamee iis keelraan coorphii hee's 9.5 swEEps oold aand hee haas eeveery proobleem -w-

originally had a mutation but i stole that from him because i want to use that mutation elsewhere, BUT that means the motivations and story i had in mind for him don't make sense anymore so. idk he's troll autistic or something. I'll figure it out

typing quirk doubles vowels excluding y's, sometimes triples for emphasis while using caps (ex #W# FUUUCK YOOOUUU!!!! #W#) and puts little cat guys indicating emotion at the beginning and end of every piece of text (ex //0w0// thaanks... uunleess thaat waas saarcaastiic... '=w=). oh yeah and vowels that were already two in a row just get capitalized like up there in "swEEps"

-single plant parents in your area want to fucking die

-woah oh, livin' on a prayer (20mg of suspicious Troll Adderall and one hour of sleep)

-what's the troll equivalent of reddit. he's on there

-not as stoic as he looks

was originally my trollsona but he's his own guy now (i am not like this please don't think I'm like this). subject to major change. look at him

‼️ im gonna resprite his ugly ass don't worryyy ‼️

[eleanorblythe]

Wicked Game - Emmrich x Original Female Character (Rook) - Chapter 2

In this chapter we explore the fallout of the horror before and see Emlygil finally leave to seek out the Veilguard.

Thanks for all of the engagement and super lovely comments so far, it brings me so much joy!

You can also read on Ao3 - here

Chapter 2 - A Fraught Farewell

There was a small crack in the wood carving of the Elder Tree amongst the vast wooden mural on the high walls of the war room.

Emlygil had been staring at it for the better part of the last hour as guards and advisors rushed around her in panicked whispers, occasionally looking over at their shell-shocked new queen.

Queen.

She continued to stare at the wooden map of the kingdom. Her kingdom. She could often forget how truly vast it was. While she never usually strayed further than the palace and upper districts, she would attend every public outing possible. Her father stressed the importance of keeping in touch with the people. “Even if we will never be one of them.” He said.

She was not ready.

She had been given a sporadic formal education on royal life and what would be expected of her once she would take up the mantle of queen, but everyone around her, herself included had assumed she had several years, if not centuries, before Emlygil was to take the throne. Now the heavy burden of the crown had already fallen on her head, far too soon.

Within the swimming recess of her mind Emlygil thought she could hear a shrill voice breaking through the quiet murmurs.

“Where is she? Let me see her!”

She saw her aunt round the corner, accompanied by a couple of flustered guards and scan the room, eyes quickly settling on Emlygil, gazing blankly back at her.

“Oh emm’asha,” (Oh, my girl) she said clutching at Emlygil’s cold hand, still stained with dried blood.

“Merrissa.” Emlygil voice croaked with disuse.

“I came as quickly as I could, as soon as I saw the fade tear. I just can’t believe it…Kelran…and Nerilana…” While Emlygil had lost her parents, and a kingdom had lost their king and queen, Merrissa had lost a brother and sister-in-law.

Emlygil nodded and expressed her condolences, but her words felt hollow. She felt hollow. She wasn’t entirely sure she was even alive, that she was a part of this world. Would that really have been so bad?

It was then, that Garen entered the war room. If there was one glimmer of hope, it was that Garen had survived the days’ slaughter. He found her unconscious in the pool of both the king and queens (as well as the necromancers) blood and carried her to where she now rested.

“The fade tear has closed. Our scouts saw a small party of four attempting to stop the ritual. They collapsed the grand statues of the Evanuris. Two died in the struggle and the one responsible for the fade tear was pulled into it. However…”

Both Emlygil and Merrissa up looked expectantly and Garen grimaced.

“Two others escaped the fade. Our scouts could not be certain but, one swore it was the Evanuris themselves.”

“Which ones?” Merrissa demanded.

“Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain.”

The war room that was buzzing with nervous chatter, now went silent.

“Then we are lost.” Emlygil broke the silence.

Garen had no response to that, just shook his head solemnly. “Ir abelas, my queen.”

She tensed hearing those words upon his lips.

“What of the other two?” She asked quickly.

“Other two?”

“You said there was a party of four and two died in the attempt to stop the ritual.”

“I do not know, your grace. Our priority was stopping the ritual and ensuring our kingdom barriers were secure. They retreated with their fallen companions to a nearby Eluvian.”

“Then I must find them.”

“Emlygil!” Her aunt said shocked. “You cannot venture out there, your people need you.”

Emlygil didn’t have the courage to say that she was deathly terrified of taking the throne, especially under the circumstances. She needed an occupation. She needed to fix what had been broken.

“This is how I can best serve my people, these adventurers were surely not there by chance, they may know what is happening, or better yet, how to stop whatever is to come.”

“And what of the necromancers? They did not just find Arlathan, their plan was coordinated, who is to say they were not working in league with these gods? You are their target, Emlygil, do not be so rash.” Merrissa was near pleading.

“So are we to wait until the veil comes down completely? Until we are completely exposed? I cannot sit on that throne and wait for the end of the world to land at our feet. You must let me do this, aunt.”

“Emlygil. You are queen.” Merrissa lost the hysterical note in her voice and spoke softly. “I cannot command you to do anything. I simply suggest you are too important to risk, send someone else on this voyage.”

“The people of Arlathan deserve a leader they can trust, someone who would do anything for them. Someone they can love.”

“The people do love you-“

“They love my parents. Loved.” Emlygil corrected, swallowing the lump in her throat. “The people love me for no other reason than I am heir. My name. My blood. Not because I am worthy of their love. I will do this to prove I am worthy.”

Merrissa looked equal parts appalled and pitiful.

“You would risk your life, just to earn the love of some commoners?”

Emlygil chose to bite her tongue. “In the mean time, the people need strength. Stability. Until such time, I return, you will step into my place.”

“Emlygil-“

“Your queen has spoken.” Emlygil said without any bark or authority. Just quiet resignation. Before she could be challenged any further, Emlygil left the room, towards her own quarters, to pack for her ill-fated journey.

______

Emlygil stood staring at an empty travelling pack. How was it possible that, despite having an entire separate room for clothing, she had nothing that would be appropriate for long distance travel. The closest thing she could find to clothing suitable for outdoor excursions was her hunting dress - which incidentally was probably the most impractical outfit of them all, with a stiff high collar and hooped skirt, seemingly more interested in looking graceful on a Halla than providing actual mobility to hunt.

The frivolity of such a dress, caused an unexpected spike of anger within her. Anger at how impractical it was. Anger at how there was a good possibility she would never have the opportunity to hunt again, take part in such a time honoured tradition. Anger at how she was forced to put aside her life joys.

She threw the crimson dress aside with a frustrated huff and turned to see Garen standing in her doorway.

“Apologies for entering without knocking, your majesty,” Garen started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I came to ask if you required any assistance.”

“You are not my lady’s maid.”

“No, but-“

“So why have you come to me with such a ridiculous request? You are the commander of our army, you have better things to do than fold and pack for my journey.”

“I do.”

“Then speak your mind, Commander Garen.”

“I came to ask you to reconsider,”

“Yes, I thought you might.” Emlygil turned her attention back to her empty bag, pretending to consider what should go in it.

“What you are proposing to do is…unwise.”

Emlygil turned back at saw him uncharacteristically rocking on his feet, avoiding her gaze.

“Oh?” She asked pointedly.

“There are some people who feel, that it would be too dangerous for you to make this journey, and to make it alone.”

“As I have already said, I have no intention of sitting idle waiting for the danger to greet our doorstep.”

“Of course not, my qu- my lady.” Garen clamped his mouth shut, choosing his words carefully. “But there are ways you can help, while remaining here. Amongst your own.”

“Like cutting ribbons and taking audiences for petty disputes? We, supposedly, have returned gods out in the real world, wanting to do real harm. I am not remaining here, commander. That is final.”

“Then in that case allow me to accompany you,”

Emlygil desperately wanted to say yes, but she knew that he was better suited staying within Arlathan.

“Commander, you are the most experienced military leader this kingdom has. If the gods or its forces choose to land here, your expertise and strength will be needed. I’m sorry, you cannot come.”

“I think you’re making a huge mistake…your majesty.” Garen bit out. Anger and fear seeping out.

Emlygil stared at him with a stern expression before giving him a disdainful smile.

“Then I am grateful that I am not bound by your advice, Commander.” She said calmly, to keep her own simmering rage and terror from bursting forth.

Garen let out a scoff and started to march towards her.

“So that’s it, you’re on a suicide mission, to prove what? That you’re not a selfish, immature little princess?! I am sorry to say that it will take more than a ridiculous play for heroism to dissuade people of that notion!” He was trying to rile her up, it was working.

“Then you will be relieved when I surely fail and you’re no longer bound to serve such a failure of our people! If you’re not unceremoniously removed from your position because no one else could bear to put up with your neurosis and ego!”

“If that’s all, your majesty?” He asked mockingly.

“Dismissed, commander.” She spat back, moving to walk past him and out of the room when he suddenly gripped and pulled her roughly into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Secure. Comforting. She let out the barrage of sobs she had been holding back and let her legs buckle. Garen sunk to the floor with her and shushed and whispered softly in her ear, apologising and attempting to reassure her. She returned the hug, not wanting to let go.

“My dear girl, I wish I fix it for you,” he said once they had both pulled away.

“This is something I have to do, Garen. I’m sorry.”

“I understand. Please be wary, the world out there is cruel. Trust no one. Seek allies only as a means of protection. Do not let them know you, do not let them see your struggle. You are more than they will ever be. When all of this is over, you will return to us, to home, ready to bear the burden of queendom. More beloved than any ruler Arlathan has ever known.”

She nodded and glanced back at her empty bag.

“I have nothing to wear.” She sheepishly. Garen suppressed a wry smile and said he would provide her with a shirt and trousers that would be suitable for travelling across Thedas.

In the end her travel pack was very light, with little more than an extra gown and leggings of muted silver, aged and battle worn. They were lightweight and durable, meant to brave any weather the world could throw at her. A dark leather corset acting as light armour. Alongside small items of self grooming, she packed a single book, a collection of Elven poetry, that was gifted by her mother. A leather bound journal and self inking quill, that was gifted by her father.

Before she closed her meagre supplies, Garen handed her a sheath, in which lay a beautiful Elven knife, with an intricately carved wooden handle and a delicate curve in the metal, catching the light she could see Elven runes and lettering along the flat edge.

“Protection and courage.” He said translating the runes. “May you never have to use this as defence.”

She attached it to her hip and finally hauled her, troublingly light, pack onto her shoulders.

“Goodbye Garen. Thank you.” She reached her hand up and cupped his cheek. He accompanied her to the edge of the barrier, where she was greeted by a small group of people to wish her well. Friends, advisors and her aunt Merrissa, giving a last minute half-hearted plea, to reconsider.

“Take care, aunt. May we both live up to my parents’ ideal.” Emlygil looked beyond the barrier, beyond home and took a deep steadying breath.

“Remember, should you ever need to return home, to us…” Merrissa started, uncomfortable.

“I know,” Emlygil softly interrupted. She knew what she needed to for the magic to open to her, but after everything that she experienced within the last day, she would rather not consider the ritual that must be cast to have the secret of Arlathan shown to her.

“Couldn’t anyone do the same and enter our world?” She had asked her father once, on the only time she had ventured out of the kingdom, to learn this very lesson.

“It must be someone already of our world. Born within our walls. Better still it must be one of us.” He stressed making the distinction between their status and everyone else’s.

“But how, what if one of us was taken and forced to-“

“It must be given freely, the magic will not work if it is ripped from us.”

“But is this not the kind of magic we abhor?” She was afraid to challenge her father, but she felt she must understand.

“The blood that runs through our veins is that of the ancient Evanuris, it is special, it is sacred, not sullied by the disgusting blood magic performed by charlatans and mortals. We are different. We are worth more than them. When we offer our blood it is to honour those who come before and after us. It takes us home. Offer Arlathan yours and you will always find your way home.”

King Kelran offered Emlygil a knife and waited patiently for her to complete the lesson. She grimaced but drew the blade across her palm and offered it up to the spray of tress, but otherwise empty land around her. There was a moment where everything was still. No wind, no birdsong, just her baited breath, she irrationally feared her blood would be rejected, but then a golden light flashed and Emlygil stared in wonder as the invisible barrier melted away, revealing the familiar stone bridge that lead to the palace.

To home.

Emlygil turned back to look at her home one last time and stepped over the threshold into the surrounding forest, feeling the crunch beneath her feet. She heard a shimmering sound and looked behind again to find…nothing. Only trees and leaves and bushes and branches.

She was alone.

Orphaned. Burdened and now homeless.

She could feel the weight of all of those things bear down on her and her eyes welled ready for fresh tears to fall. Perhaps they would never stop falling.

She shook herself out of such thoughts. What use would wallowing do? Any distraction, any indulgence, any slip could prove fatal to her, to her people, to the world.

She decided then and there to press down any of those pathetic thoughts or feelings. Get the job done. Find the adventures. Kill the Elven gods. End to the oncoming destruction.

Seek allies only as a means of protection. Do not let them know you, do not let them see your struggle. You are more than they will ever be.

She had to be. Otherwise the world would fall, and hers along with it.

She had to be.

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bringing her back/keeping her around is a STELLAR choice. it's so easy with romance-based things to get so caught up in the main couple, but having an outsider around for their perspective (and to yell at them, whether it's for Rizeth-related YOU'RE A DUMBASS reasons or Octavius and Milo-related WHAT are you two DOING reasons) gives so much depth to a story, I feel

(which is part of why I have Kelran. to look into camera and be like 'these two are are so fucking stupid jesus christ')

snippet!

Totally gen snippet today - this is how I want to open the second arc of gay BDSM crime story, and I'm thinking it's gonna be the only time I actually break Octavius/Milo POV. And I think it's going to slap!

There is a marked difference, to Meg, between crazy and insane.  It’s her own personal taxonomy, not anything formal she’s learned from the flock of psychiatrists she’s met during the thrilling roller coaster ride of having schizophrenia since puberty. Most people use those words interchangeably, but to Meg, they denote two very different states of being. Crazy is seeing and hearing things that aren’t there. Electric eels sliding in and out of thin air, signaling danger. Doors opening in front of her eyes and pulling her down filthy, compressed crawl spaces that won’t let her breathe until reaches the other end. That kinda shit. Insane is everything crazy entails plus believing it’s real. The sheer, undeniable truthiness of your hallucinations permeating your bones. Does that make sense? Here’s a concrete example she’d give anything not to have at the ready: Crazy is looking at looking at someone you love and seeing them as a skin sack housing a malevolent imposter; insane is deciding to do something about it. So, yeah, Meg is still crazy, and that's fine. She sees the same fucking bullshit she always has. But thanks to Milo, the moments where she’s insane are few and far between.

✨ WIP intro

🔖 tag list: @winterandwords // @foxboyclit //@revenantlore

@space-writes // @indecentpause // @words-after-midnight

comment to be added or removed!

📝 all posts from WIP: gay crime bdsm story

[kryptsune]

Souly Damned Saturday

🌼Good morning everyone! Today is the start of the first Souly Damned Saturdays! In essence Saturdays will be dedicated to my original IP, Souly Damned. It will be a day where I post information about the world, its character, and much more! The askbox is open all day today for SD content but if you have questions after today feel free to send them in! I am so excited to start this off because as much as I love fan work my real dream is to have my own original content. So let’s get started! This beautiful chibi of Val was done by @little-noko​ 💙

What is Souly Damned?

Souly Damned is my original IP and is generally the over arching name for the world in which I have created. If you enjoy my UT AU world building content then you will enjoy this. The Souly Damned world centers around the supernatural and the realms that lie within. While most stories and worlds focus on the heroes and angelic beings that have a call of righteousness, Souly Damned focuses instead on those of the Fallen. 

The main focus is the Princes of Hell and their relationships to one another, how Hell is run, as well as the trials and tribulations of dealing with a sense of duality. Most media tend to paint the Seven Deadly Sins as simple background characters or “big bads” but my boys are the main focus. Of course there are other stories within the SD universe but we will get to that a little later. 

Who are the characters? 

There are quite a few including side characters but there are 12 Princes in total with 2 half brothers. The universe is run by what we consider to be the 3 fates, past, present, and future. These beings maintain a balance in the world however despite their Celestial lineage their dynamics shift dramatically. The three consider themselves brothers yet they have no physical blood relation they were just the first three beings in existence. In order there is: 

Darrius - the fate of the past Sidriel - the fate of the present Kalthiel - the fate of the future

In this world the words used to describe beings are not accurate. As an example mortals would call Sidriel an angel but that is not the true term. They are referred to as Celestials. The same is said between demons and Infernals. Darrius has 12 sons each representing the 7 virtues but things begin to go wrong when Darrius tries to intervene more and more with mortal life. As he does the mortals begin to praise him and worship him and that adulation begins to corrupt him. 

Believing himself to be a god he tries to take control over both the mortal realm as well as their Celestial one. A war begins with some of his more loyal sons at his side. The war causes two events to take place. The first is that Darrius and his sons are stricken from their Celestial status and tossed down to the mortal Realm where they are forced to confront their now corrupted forms. Some of them try to fight what is happening to them but most begin to break quickly or even embrace their punishment. This is when the 12 Princes are born as they rule the mortal realms, dividing them into 7 separate and distinct kingdoms. The second event is the closing of the once open Celestial Realm where Sidriel becomes ruler. 

Are some of your AU boys in this? 

 To be perfectly frank, yes but not in their AU form. In essence they are characters that have nothing to do with UT that were created for UT AU projects. I love them dearly and I see no need to part from their designs or their personalities just because I have them in “other content”. So yes you may see some names or designs that will cross over but these are all my personal designs. 

So skeletons?

Yes, but only those of corrupted Celestial blood have this appearance. I always cannoned that these powerful Fallens would have characteristics of humanity but also be stripped of it. What better way to do that than make them skeletal in appearance? Despite my UT roots this is a decision I made long before it existed so I am not going to change it. There are plenty of other skeletal characters out there. 

Who are the boys? 

That is a lot to unpack so I will start easy and just post their names and their associated sin. Keep in mind that because of their power their real names have significance. It is why they have alias names that they go by. So you will see 2 names for each. The first is their Alias and how I tend to refer to them and the second is their true name. Some of the boys don’t even use an alias because the human who even dared speak it would suffer severe consequences. Not all of them are amenable to being summoned. This is also in order of age. 

Nasaros --> Ruler of the Infernal Realm (he embodies all of the sins) Costello/ Saketh --> Prince of Lust Carthus / Darkinol --> Prince of Pride Sanneth / Kelran --> Prince of Envy Beast; Cuban; Valentine/ Valruth --> Prince of Lust Dusk / Dantillion --> Prince of Pride The Boss; Luciano / Sokan --> Prince of Wrath  Grimm; Rus / Cerberus --> Prince of Greed  Gin / Dozzenath --> Prince of Sloth Crimson / Arnaun --> Prince of Greed Arzin / Zorrol --> Prince of Wrath Ouro/ Ouroboros --> Prince of Gluttony Noir and Blanc --> The rulers of limbo (half brothers)

-------------------------- Ok I know this is not a whole bunch but trust me I have so much to share for this info. I really need questions so that I can tailor what info to release so if you want to know more please send an ask my way! Comments work as well! This is literally not even scratching the surface. Hope you all join me in my excitement for this content! 

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nine lines nine people

tagged be @writingamongther0ses, thank you! another bit from A Question of Trust today - my revision plan is going well so far, i’m actually excited about this book again, yay!

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Kelran’s eyes flicked to Ashenivir, who remembered to drop his gaze respectfully—though not before noting the smug curve of the sun-elf’s painted lips. “Your favourite miscreants are holding court by the punch table,” Kelran said. “Master Velkon’yss, might I suggest you send him to inform them he still lives?” As hints went, it was far from subtle. Ashenivir swallowed a huff as Rizeth unclipped his leash. “Enjoy yourself, Ra’soltha,” he said. “Is that an order, Master?” The corner of Rizeth’s mouth twitched. “Yes.” “Then I shall obey. Good evening, Lord Stillgleam.”

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no-pressure tagging @eccaiia @willtheweaver @talesofsorrowandofruin and @loopyhoopywrites

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso @notwritinganyflufftoday (ask to be +/-)

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Chapter Thirteen

In which Kelran calls Rizeth out, and Ashenivir's past makes a painful appearance.

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Ashenivir slowly turned a page, the words doing little more than occupy his eyes. He’d come to the Font not to study, but to think. Much like the Arcanum library, the quiet ambience served to calm his racing mind—and lately it had done nothing but race. He’d replayed the conversation with Lord Stillgleam over and over since High Coin, and kept coming back to one singular point.

Did you know, in all that time, he’s never once brought anyone in a collar with him?

It had to mean something. Or did it? Maybe Rizeth hadn’t liked collars before, or hadn’t found an enchantment he enjoyed until now. Maybe Kelran was lying, toying with him in retaliation for his taking so much of Rizeth’s time and attention. Maybe, despite their history, he didn’t know Rizeth as well as he thought he did.

Ashenivir tangled his fingers in his collar. Rizeth hadn’t pressed him for details on what he and Kelran had talked about, for which he was greatly relieved. He didn’t want to lie, and though he wanted to ask—desperately—what it all meant, he wasn’t certain he wanted an answer. Because Rizeth had apparently told Kelran his collar was a toy, and something about that made him hesitate.

It was a toy. A toy he never took off, not for anything, and when he got back to Mythen Thaelas, was he going to keep wearing it? Even after he was done with Rizeth? His fingers tightened, the links pressing painfully into his joints. The thought of taking it off turned his stomach inside out.

Keep Reading - AO3 / Dreamwidth / Neocities

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso @notwritinganyflufftoday (ask to be +/-)

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Chapter 12

In which Ashenivir and Rizeth attend a party

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Carriages of every shape and size lined the street outside Stillgleam Villa, disgorging from their plush interiors what seemed like half the nobility of Waterdeep. The endless stream of guests flowed through the entry hall, where an equally endless rotation of servants collected cloaks beneath the twinkling lights of glittering chandeliers.

“Welcome, welcome, Lord Stillgleam bids you all welcome!” A proud-voiced butler reigned over the near-chaos, an unflappable smile fixed firmly in place above his stiff white collar. “Upstairs to the ballroom, or if it please you to smoke, through this way to the parlour!”

Ashenivir stayed close to Rizeth as they ascended the stairs. Everything dripped in golden opulence, including the guests. He’d thought himself fine enough before they’d left, but now he felt underdressed; there was nothing on display among the other attendees that couldn’t have cost a small fortune. Keszriin’s gifted moonstones in his ears and the simple gold thread in his half-braid seemed petty in comparison.

Rizeth, though…Rizeth looked as though he belonged here. His dark shirt and long-tailed waistcoat with their subtle gold embroidery weren’t overly elaborate, but the cut of everything spoke of expense and good taste. Not to mention the fact that they displayed his shoulders and back to a frankly obscene advantage—Ashenivir had been suppressing the urge to provoke him all evening. He wanted to hold all that narrow-framed muscle to him, pressed up against a wall, a leg between his thighs, lips on his neck—

He almost walked into the back he was fantasising about. Rizeth shot him a look that said he knew exactly what he’d been thinking, and Ashenivir discovered a sudden pressing need to carefully examine his boots.

The door to the ballroom had become something of a blockade, the tide of High Coin celebrants held back by a woman in a golden gown with a lengthy scroll. She announced each arrival as they entered in a clear, crystalline voice, though the music and chatter in the ballroom was such a wall of sound, Ashenivir doubted anyone could hear her. The two couples in front of them stepped through arm in arm, and suddenly the half-foot gap between him and Rizeth felt cavernous.

Keep Reading - AO3 / Dreamwidth / Neocities

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso @notwritinganyflufftoday (ask to be +/-)

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Chapter Nine

In which Ashenivir finally learns what a playroom is, and the pining continues to escalate in a frankly ridiculous fashion.

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Winter had Waterdeep well in its grasp, and today, as most days, snow blanketed the city in white that had remained pristine for all of five minutes before the bustling citizens churned it to grey. Ashenivir was by now thoroughly sick of tramping through slush and ice, harried by freezing cold that found its way beneath even the most securely wrapped cloak. Snow had long since lost its appeal.

Inside, however, he could pretend to enjoy it as much as he had the first night it fell. He turned another page, the rasp of paper one among many in the quiet hall of the Font of Knowledge. Knowing that beyond the great doors lay a grey and miserable evening made his cloak warmer, his chair more comfortable; and that, he felt, was the real magic of the surface oddity known as weather.

His gaze drifted about the library, the dozens of figures hunched over reading desks between the towering shelves, absorbed in their work. What did the shrine look like in the snow? Neverwinter Wood would be appalling to live in but a marvel to see—the shrine here wouldn’t have so many trees for snow to catch on, but maybe…

Ashenivir shook the thought sharply from his mind. He wasn’t going to visit it, so it didn’t matter what it looked like. He forced his attention back to his notes, pressing harder than he needed to as he scrawled another line. Ink spread in a dark blotch, and he cursed under his breath, motioning a prestidigitation before it could ruin all his work.

“A challenging topic, I take it?”

The cantrip fell off his fingers. Snow dusted Rizeth’s shoulders, the tip of his nose and the points of his ears flushed from the cold. All the unpleasantness of winter was worth it to see him like that.

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🍓 rizeth!!

hi cole!!

ahh trying to think of things that aren't now spoilers for things in the current fic asdjakl

so, it took Rizeth a while to come to comfortable terms with his desires. in part because a dominant male was not something he was ever encouraged to be, and in part because being one felt like he was fulfilling all the awful stereotypes and preconceptions about drow that a lot of people had.

so he spent a long time getting what he wanted in bits and pieces and then feeling horribly guilty about it, because he very much wanted to not be like a lot of the women he grew up around, and sexually dominating people felt, to him, like that was what he was doing.

(in part because the kind of consort he was in Menzo, he didn't exactly live a life free of sexual trauma)

but to his credit, he did the work and is now very comfortable with what he wants, and refuses to be shamed for it. not that he's going to go around telling everyone about it, or that he's not going to worry about consequences (because those apply to Ashenivir), but his internal self is very settled about it

Send me 🍓 & an OC for OC facts!

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an incomplete list of things you can look forward to in A Question of Trust:

the boys ~arguing~ ✨✨

Ashenivir being a nerd about kink

a whole new reason for you all to yell ‘FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WILL YOU TALK TO HIM’ at Rizeth

Power Word: Pleasure

Kelran’s Exasperated Sass

Rizeth’s emotional issues

Rizeth’s ex-girlfriend

a variety of dates, including beach-flavoured and fairground-flavoured

drunk!Rizeth

also: drunk!sex

a single oblique, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reference to Jarlaxle’s Waterdeep Vacation

Ashenivir being a huge brat. No, bigger than that. Bigger.

the emotional significance of Holding Hands in Public

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writing share tag

tagged by @writingrosesonneptune, thank you! here’s a little more from revision work on A Question of Trust

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Mara managed to get through the under-arm pass without incident, and bounced delightedly when Ashenivir told her so. “River did you see that! I’m going to get so good at this!” “Don’t you already know how to dance? You and Verin cause fourteen-noble pile-ups every time Kelran throws a party.” “That’s different,” Mara sniffed, fluffing her hair. “Eilistray…Eilistra…Elly…Shrine dancing isn’t the same as courtly dancing. It’s improvised. There are loads of different moves and then you just put them together how you feel when you dance—it’s so romantic.” She sighed. “And Xalin was so good at it.” “Given the size of the lovebites on her neck the other morning, I’m surprised she had time to show you much dancing at all,” Ashenivir said. Xalin had stuttered and blushed at his teasing, which he didn’t feel bad about at all, given how much he’d taken about Rizeth. Mara only grinned. “She’s good at lots of things, as it turns out.”

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no-pressure tagging @hagscribes @artdecosupernova-writing @reneesbooks and @vacantgodling

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Chapter Eighteen

In which there is an ending.

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Emmyr didn’t have a shop as such. They worked instead out of the back room of the narrow, four-storey town house they shared with the rest of clan Lightfist, squeezed between two shorter residences at the north edge of the Trades Ward. Said clan was a loose collection of dwarves and halflings, all of whom frequented Kelran’s House—many having done so for nearly as long as Rizeth—and most of which plied a similar trade to Emmyr. Three of the clan, shirtless for the heat, were presently sprawled on the floor of the living area adjoining Emmyr’s workshop, engaged in a lively debate about the various merits of wyvern leather. Rizeth tuned them out.

“Alys sent her deepest apologies along with it,” Emmyr said, handing him the bit gag. “Shouldn’t be any problems with this one, not with one of my boys helping out.”

Rizeth cast two divinations this time, examining every last thread of magic set into the bar. He could find nothing wrong, but then he’d found nothing wrong the first time and look how that had turned out. Still, one did not look a gift gag in the mouth.

“She’ll get there,” Emmyr said quietly. “Give her time. She’s got big shoes to fill.”

Rizeth dropped the gag into his bag of holding. “You may send her my thanks.”

“Will do. Need anything else whilst you’re here? A leash and a paddle do not a full collection make.”

It was tempting. But he didn’t need a new collar, or new manacles, and Emmyr’s other main trade was in floggers, which Rizeth was not inclined to touch. The half-finished cat-o’-nine-tails on the workbench was a thing of beauty to be certain, but too many priestesses had wielded weapons too similar for it to appear anything other than an instrument of real torture to him.

“Another time,” he said. Emmyr shrugged.

“You know where I am.”

The sun was almost intolerably bright as it neared its zenith. Rizeth kept to the shade where he could on his way to the market; fruit, he wanted to get—strawberries were in season now, and he wanted Ashenivir to try them—and they were almost out of the ginger tea Ashenivir liked; and they needed eggs, and bread, and soap, and Goddess, he missed this already. Tomorrow was Midsummer. Almost a year gone from Mythen Thaelas, and that meant it was time to stop pretending and start making arrangements to go home.

He didn’t bother to haggle for the tea. Home didn’t make him think of Mythen Thaelas any longer. Home was the apartment, with his abandoned notes and Ashenivir’s mess of books. Home was a leash in the entryway and manacles on the bedframe, his cufflinks and Ashenivir’s hair ties on the nightstand; it was tangled sheets and sunlight glinting on the links of a collar, the mark beneath his hand and Ashenivir on his knees with hungry eyes and an eager smile.

Mythen Thaelas without him would never be home at all.

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Chapter Sixteen

In which there is a moonlit solstice dance

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Ms Thorne shook her head with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Verin left about an hour ago.”

“It’s alright.” Ashenivir turned the bracelet over in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the V shaped charm. He’d woken up with it on his wrist without the slightest recollection of how it had ended up there. “I only wanted to return this.”

“I believe Miss Shemov is still here. She may know which way he was headed.”

“She’ll at least be around when he gets back,” Ashenivir said. “May I go in?”

“Of course. You might try the back porch; guests often take lunch there.”

Ashenivir thanked her and went through into the ballroom. Gods, he’d slept half the day away and his head still felt near to exploding—even the soft tap of his heels on the marble floor was too loud, and the wretchedly bright sunlight through the tall windows made his eye-sockets ache. He couldn’t find Mara on the porch, but one of the servants said she’d gone upstairs, which either meant she was in one of the guest rooms, or she’d be tied up—probably literally—in a playroom for the next few hours.

He paused at the foot of the staircase. The lower floor was one thing, but the playrooms without Rizeth? He had permission to be here—had asked, even hungover as he was, when he’d realised he had Verin’s bracelet, and Rizeth had told him again he didn’t need to.

He wasn’t going to stop asking.

“So, are you going to tell him?”

Ashenivir looked up. Lord Stillgleam stood at the top of the stairs, leaning on the banister.

“Tell who what? Verin already left—you don’t know where he went, do you? Or where Mara is?”

“No manners today, I see.” Kelran flashed a smile and beckoned him up. Ashenivir hesitated. No Rizeth, no Mara, no servants; just the House and Lord Stillgleam, who’d had an uncommon interest in him from the day they’d met. “Come on up, little lost apprentice. We have a few things to talk about.”

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