#not being an elf. so it's not enough for the person who found her and to be her first friend to just be another elf

[toxycodone]

Chimera!Falin x Reader

an. separated w/ general sfw and nsfw hcs. reader is an adventurer who happens to catch the Red Dragon’s interest….

tw. monster fucking, predator/prey dynamics

sfw.

Now…being a lone adventurer is difficult. Especially in your case. Not only are you prey to almost anything in the dungeon, but you’ve found yourself prey to its most apex predator—The Red Dragon.

Well, at least you think? Oddly enough…for a dragon, it’s very pretty. You don’t remember hearing about it having a human head and torso. With pretty blonde hair and golden eyes…Gods, she’s beautiful…

That’s what you’re thinking in the back of the mind while the Dragon pins you down with one hefty paw. It’s insane how large it is compared to you. One look to the side and you can see the large claw is longer than the length of your head. However, despite this position…it doesn’t hurt, per se. She has enough weigh on you to make you hesitant to breathe too deeply, but, she isn’t killing you….which is odd.

When you finally look to the dragon, you’re shocked to see her so close to your face.

“Not Delgal…” She whispers in a hoarse voice. You don’t know who that is, or why the Dragon or all creatures is looking for this person but…okay. As you brace yourself for what’s next, the Dragon grasps your face in her human ones. They’re soft and plush.

She brings her face to yours and licks a long stipe up it with her forked tongue, cleaning off some semi-dried blood of your companions. Her breath smells slightly coppery as she does so.

“Still good.” She nuzzles into your face, her feathers tickling your skin.

It's fucking weird. And you're not sure if you hate it or you love it. But hey...at least you're alive?

Since then, you've basically become the Dragon's little pet. She doesn't speak much, and you figure it must have something to do with her being some sort of chimera monstrosity, but she at least has the decency to introduce herself to you as Falin.

You also get confronted by Thistle...you thought the elf might help you. But no. He just sighs when he sees Falin drag you along with her. If it makes her happy, he's not arguing against it. Sorry. You're trapped.

But at least Falin is a good caretaker. She watches over you like a hawk. A big, scary, red dragony hawk. Even if you're just sitting around, enjoying the scenery...she just stares. with that disgustingly cute little smile of hers.

When the two of you travel together, she likes it when you ride on her back, but she also stores you in her thick plumage on the front of her body too. Her favorite is to carry you in her own human arms and walk around with you like you're some sort of stuffed animal. It's...kinda adorable. Maybe more cute if you weren't lowkey kidnapped.

If any adventurers dare harm you...it's over for them. You learned quickly to either look away or hide somewhere, because Falgon shows no mercy. As cute and sweet as she can be, she's equally deadly.

And you don't hide very far away...escaping is futile. Plus it becomes a fun game for her. It's literal cat and mouse. She can smell you. Sense you. It doesn't matter. She'll crush walls and buildings to get to you.

And if you run, it makes it worse. She'll catch you like a bug, her scaly front feet cage you in as she pounces on you. Then she just...dangles you and plays with you like a mouse.

She feels bad afterwards. It's hard for Falin to know her own strength in this form. She often accidentally scratches or bruises you. To make up for it, she'll sing a little lullaby and use her healing magic on you. It always lulls you into the most restful slumber you've had, no matter how much pain you're in or how scared you are.

After a little time, things do become oddly? Domestic?

Falin bathes you as often as possible. She likes to help get you clean as a bonding activity. She's really gentle and calm in these moments--the two of you just bathing in a nice dungeon waterfall or somewhere in the golden kingdom.

In return, you help her preen! You gently pick out pin feathers and brush off feather dust while she trills in happiness and coos at you. It's probably one of your favorite things to do as she just hums sweetly and lets you do it. She also likes it when you do her hair (adventurers are definitely left wondering why the Red Dragon has braids or double buns)

She also forages and hunts for you. Little berries? Snack for you! Is there a nice fruit tree on the floor you're exploring? She's hopping up there and picking you enough to eat all day.

Falin also uh. will hunt. After you scold her for dropping a giant monster carcass on you she learns not to do it again but hey? it was kinda funny. From then on she only brings you things she knows you can cook

And as typical...she has a nest. It's not anything crazy, but it's a cozy little thing made of foilage, her feathers, and other soft materials she found in the dungeon. When it's time to go to bed, she lets you lay down first and cuddles around you like a cat. Or she'll let you lay on her and cozy into her feathers. Her soft down feels like a cloud and you just sink in <3 it's adorable.

nsfw.

I'M ON TEAM FALIN CHIMERA DICK.

Since you're her prized treasure...her everything...naturally she views you as her mate.

That means, she gets into ruts. It's only natural for her to want to breed with you, right? Plus, she likes to make you feel good.

However...she is WAY too big to even begin to think to fit inside you. You could probably fucking grapple her if you wanted to. So sex between the two of you is pretty...interesting.

When she trills, the vibrations are intense. If you're sitting on her front and preening her, it's extremely difficult for you to keep your composure while you're doing this. She knows it, and does it on purpose. The vibrations run from her chest, to your thighs and up your spine. Eventually, a simple preening turns to you desperately humping her chest while she just smiles and watches you.

One of her favorite things to do though is hold you in one paw and give you oral. You're distended in the air, held tight by her claws. Then you feel her soft, warm human hands spread your thighs open and lap at you. It's enthralling to knows this creature that could easily snap you in half could just. Do that. And she makes the sweetest little moans and hums while she tastes you. You almost forget she's a chimera with the soul of a literal dragon.

You can fuck yourself on one of her claws or the tip of her tail. She'll round out a claw (just in case, Falin doesn't wanna hurt you) so you can ride it like a dildo and see how much you can take. Same with the tip of her tail. Falin just lays down and moves it in and out, slowly but surely stretching you out while you cry out. Her face is almost as red as her body while she watches you do this with hungry eyes.

Even though it's impossible to fit her cock inside you, goddamnit, you try. You can barely even get 3/4 of the head in, but it's cute to watch your tiny body give it an attempt. Awww, you're that desperate for her? Cute. When she gets too pent up from all the teasing, though, Falin just grasps you with her claws and slides you up and down her length. Grinding against her is heavenly. It coats your body in slick and your own cum and eventually....hers. She cums enough that you need a bath afterwards. But if you don't have time, she'll happily lick you clean. (And spend extra time between your thighs, making you cum again on her face)

And she is...a biter. She can't help it. You're her mate. Falin sinks her teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs, your ass, and your shoulders the most. She loves the taste of your blood, the primal part of her desires it, and she likes seeing the marks on you. It's insanely sexy for her to know SHE did that. And its a sign that she owns you. <3

[itsfeckinwimdy]

10 Types of Kisses

Various LOTR/TH x Reader

Pairings: Aragorn, Fili, Haldir, Kili, & Legolas x Reader (separately).

Pronouns: n/a.

Prompt(s): 10 types of kisses by @urfriendlywriter. You can find her post here. (I used 9/10 of them).

Word Count: 3.4k words (3415)

Warnings: No beta, we die like Boromir. open wounds (Aragorns + Fili's), marriage (Fili's), swearing (Kili's), mentions of battle + death + blood (Legolas).

Tree Speaks: I had a lot of fun writing this but it also went into territory that I'm not particularly comfortable with writing yet so we'll see how this pans out.

Translations: amad - mother, dwarrowdams - a term used for female dwarves.

LOTR + TH Masterlist

Published: 25/02/2023

1. Aragorn

soft kisses - where they're just lying beside you, hands playing with your hair as they trail tender kisses all over your lips

The two of you were meant to be sleeping of course, but the gloom of the mines made it hard to settle. You supposed that's why he pulled you away from the others slightly, to a spot just that bit further away.

Aragorn was on first watch as usual, having made it his task since the beginning of the journey, and always insisted that the hobbits and Gandalf got plenty of sleep. But with that came the usual knowing looks between the two of you as Aragorn knew his love wouldn't sleep unless he would.

So with that knowledge, and him sensing his love's rising anxiety at being trapped underground, it now brought them to this.

He tilted your head up from where it was resting against his chest, his hand cupping your face. Aragorn brushed a few loose strands of hair off your face from where it had fallen out of place as his own head tilted down towards yours. His hand gently entwined with your other, and he paused in his movements, allowing you to decide next.

You gently reached up, threading your hand through his long locks and gently pulling him down towards you. He pressed his lips to yours, mouth moving slowly, softly, intimately.

He pulled away, your lips chasing after his, a small smile gracing his lips as he pressed another kiss, and then another, and then another to your lips.

the type of kiss where you can't find words to say after, or the ones where your forehead lingers against each other's

Aragorn's horse trotted through helms deep, having just pulled him up from the river bed where if not found, he would've succumbed to his wounds. He dismounted his horse and received a scolding from Gimli before forcing himself up the staircases and into the deep.

Legolas rose from outside the doors, greeting his friend who believed him dead. The elf pulled him into a familiar embrace before pulling back and making a sarcastic comment about the ranger.

The elf turned a small smile gracing his face before yelling the name of a person. The ranger followed his line of sight. It fell on his love, you.

You looked up after the elf who yelled out to you, before seeing the man you mourned for standing with him. Abandoning your stuff, you ran to him, arms thrown over his shoulders and crushing him to your chest as a few sobs left you.

His arms encircled you as he leant his forehead against yours. He didn't care at that point about the mud caking him and he didn't think you cared enough at that point, so it made no odds on whether he was careful or not.

He pulled back slightly, raising his hand to caress your face before pressing his lips to yours. Tears left both of you as his mouth moved languidly with yours.

Aragorn pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. He wanted to say so much to you, fearing that he would never see you again but all thoughts left him as he wished to stay in this moment, longing for nothing but you.

2. Fili

messy kisses - curly hair, ruffled sheets and half-buttoned clothes as you just want more and at that moment, they're the most beautiful soul to you ever

The sun trickled in through the window, bypassing the curtains that hadn't been fully drawn across the night before. The young (ish) couple lounged in the bed, bodies pressed together as close as they could get with the few layers of clothes still between them.

He tilted your head up to meet his, his lips pressing against yours, moving languidly in the early morn. Fili reached up, hand caressing your courting and marriage braids that were still somewhat intact.

He groaned, feeling one of your hands gripping the hair at the base of his neck and the other slipping under his shirt across his chest.

Fili pulled back, eyes fluttering open to meet yours; your own half-lidded as you drew in a few stuttering breaths. It was a pleasant greeting from your love first thing in the morning, one that you would be against again.

You gazed up at Fili, the dwarf hovering over you, careful not to rest his entire body weight on you. The tressels of sunlight filtered through his hair, causing a glow to shine over him.

His eyes trailed over your face, memorising every detail as if it was the first time he saw you.

kisses on your body ♡ frail kisses on your shoulder! on your lower back, belly and trailing to your neck, collarbones, lips.

A cry of pain left your lips.

Oin pulled the blood-soaked cloth away from where it was pressed tightly against your side. The infection from the arrow had spread, the orcs having laced it with something deadly.

The pain wasn't something Fili wished on anyone, much less you. So he did his best to comfort you whilst the infection ransacked your body. His hands firmly held you, one holding the back of your head, and the other gripping your forearm to stop you from forcing Oin's hand away from the wound he was trying his best to treat.

After Oin had doused the cut in water, trying to flood any dirt that wormed its way in, Fili pulled you closer. The healer moved back to gather some more altheas and cloths, leaving you curled against your prince's chest.

Fili dropped his head down to your shoulder, as your tears continued to douse his shirt - not that he cared as it was covered in sweat, grime, and whatever else from the trip across middle earth - his hand on your head slipping down to the back of your neck, stroking his fingers in what he hoped was a soothing pattern.

He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, the fabric of your tunic had been pulled away, cut away for easier access. It would need replacing, he noted, but hoped that it would be enough to cover you until the sun rose again.

Fili continued his ministrations, pressing another kiss further up your shoulder. And then another at the junction where it met your neck. He considered pressing one to your neck, in that one spot he knew made you shiver, but with the way you were sitting in his lap you were already considered improper in public, so he begrudgingly decided against it.

Oin chose to return at that moment, pressing the churned-up altheas against your wound and then tying the cleanest cloth over it. You cried out in pain, more tears falling. It was like someone was driving a burning knife into your arm, over, and over, and over again. The pain rolling in waves.

Fili kept whispering words of praises and comfort, the Kadzhul translations lost in your mind as all you could feel was the pain, and him.

The knot was finally tied on the bandage. Fili slid his hand from the back of your neck to cup your face, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead before leaning his own upon yours.

I'm here, you're safe now, I love you, the action spoke more words than Fili could find himself saying.

3. Haldir

lazy kisses as they admire you - fingers delicately trialing your jaw as they kiss your lips

"Haldir," you groaned, leaning back against his chest, head turned up to face him. A smile graced his lips, his eyes locked with yours, shining full of love.

It wasn't often you got to spend a prolonged period of time with your Marchwarden, especially with him being gone for months at a time to guard Lothlórien's borders. So any time you spent with him was precious, even if you knew he would be leaving at the end of it again.

The braid in his hair was loose, albeit from your hands running through his hair earlier, causing him to have a sexy, but dishevelled look. The thought of elves being supermodels no matter what state they were in flashed through your mind again causing you to chuckle slightly.

Haldir raised his hand, letting it linger under your jaw as he delicately leaned down to place another kiss against your lips. Warmth bloomed through you and as his lips moved against yours, all thought about him having to leave again in a few days retreated into the depths of your mind.

You were drunk off the taste of him, off his kisses as he stole your breath each time. And nothing would ever change that.

goodbye kisses - kisses lingering like liquor in each other's lips, bitter but sweet, "I'll always come back to you, love. you're my home after all."

The boats gifted to the fellowship had just finished being prepared and were packed full of provisions to last you a good while.

The thought of having to leave your home again haunted you but not just because it was where you lived. No, because this time you were leaving your love, not knowing when you were to see him again. He was your home.

The Marchwarden was allowed to see his love off, having been granted a week's leave whilst you and the fellowship recovered and stayed in Caras Galadhon, Lothlórien. After you were sent as an emissary to Imladris, Rivendell in the common tongue, and word had returned that you had embarked on a journey to destroy the one ring, Haldir was worried for you.

He knew the history of the ring, as did most if not all elves and was worried about the dangers you may face. He knew that you could protect yourself, having been a sparring partner against you for years, but the worry did not dissipate.

He met you at the shoreline, his hand over his heart in the traditional greeting before he held your hand in his. Sadness filled his eyes as he wished not to see you leave, but knowing that this was a journey you were willing to take.

Haldir leant his head against yours as he fixed the cloak hung around your shoulders, ensuring that the broach was attached properly.

His hands lingered on your waist as he prepared himself to say goodbye again. It was one thing being the one who was leaving, but now that he was on the receiving side for once, he now knew how your heart felt each time he went on patrol. That feeling of not knowing if you were coming back or not eating at his heart.

Your hand on his cheek stole his spiralling mind from his thoughts as your lips pressed against his. A tear threatened to leave his eye as he consumed your kiss like a drug. The fear bubbling in his chest soothing to make way for the love he held for you but the melancholy feeling at having to be parted from you made it more bittersweet than anything.

His lips lingered over yours as you pulled away, his hand raising to stoke a strand of hair back from your face. Haldir wished he could keep you here in his arms but understood the task you had undertaken would not be dropped lightly.

4. Kili

kissing and realising this is the person you'll always love, you'll always want to touch and snuggle with

Kili didn't think he could hold you any closer than he currently was.

You were practically melded into him, hands gripping tightly to the back of his jacket. The clothing was still damp from the thunderous storm you had walked through, but nonetheless had to still wear.

The terror that shot through him as the thunder giant collided with the mountain, believing that he had lost not only his brother but you as well, was something he never wished to feel again. His hands trembled slightly at the thought.

He shifted slightly, taking some pressure off his shoulder whilst pulling you upwards slightly so you were level with him. The ground wasn't pleasant to lie on, less so on his side, and even less so with damp clothes on, but Kili knew this was the company's best option right now.

Kili rested his head against yours, his eyes meeting yours. He nudged his nose with yours affectionately, giving you time to pull away.

It was something he always did, you noted. Every time he wanted to kiss you but couldn't find the words to say it, or was surrounded by too many prying eyes, he did that. Gave you that tell that allowed you to decide what happens next.

You tentatively leant forwards, tilting your head upwards ever so slightly, letting your lips press against his. There was no rush. No incessant desire to pull the other closer, just him.

Kili moved his lips slowly with yours, savouring every moment that he got with you. Fuck, he loved you. The realisation pulled at his heartstrings more, knowing that he could've lost you today.

prohibited kiss - you're not even supposed to be seeing each other but your hands are on his hair and his hands around your waist, lower bodies pressing into each other as you kiss

Laughter radiated through your body as you were pulled through the endless turns and corridors of Erebor. The stone walls were lined with torches and braziers all lit with fires burning brightly.

To anyone else, it would be a maze, a catacomb of tunnels that unless sense was made of them, would surely lead to your demise. But years of living there had engraved the pathways into your mind, and no doubt Kili's.

His hand dragged you to a secluded corner, himself coming to a halt. He could no longer hear the guards trying to follow the two of you. Pride flooded his chest as he gazed back at you, finally alone with his betrothed.

You were finally able to get a good look at him, now that he didn't have all the dwarrowdams fawning over him. Even if he wasn't "beautiful" by dwarf standards, he was still a prince and would have people trying to gain his favour.

But his title didn't matter to you. Kili did.

And by the creator himself, did you love the way he looked. His hair tousled from the running, and the short beard he was so desperately trying to grow accentuated his face.

But the ceremonial robes that hung to his body? You couldn't resist.

He found himself pushed back, pinned against the pillar. Kili's eyes locked with yours, the same fire of desire within him, burning through you.

Your lips pressed with his, mouths moving frantically with the others. Your hands that gripped onto the front of his robes slid up, trailing up his neck and into his hair, pulling slightly to press him into you more.  A groan left him at a particularly harsh tug before your hand moved to trace his courting braid.

He pulled away, panting, breathless, kissing you again and pulling you into him, arms gripping your waist, hands in his hair, your bodies practically merging into one. If his Amad caught him now, he wouldn't even have to face the scornful looks of Dwalin, he would already be lying in his grave.

But could he let you go? Fuck no.

5. Legolas

shy kisses - when you're the one pulling them closer, and they nuzzle their face in your crook after the kiss, hands around your waist as their ears get red

You were scared. If anything you were currently lustful, but you were about to fight in a war against ten thousand troops with an army of less than a third of that. So you were scared.

Legolas had turned to where you leant against one of the pillars, choosing to come and check all the fastenings on your armour. He was meticulous and methodical as he went to each and every one, adjusting where he deemed necessary whilst checking it caused you no discomfort.

A soft smile graced your face, as you watch his gentle movements before reaching out to cup his face in one of your hands. A blush, so subtle anyone who didn’t know Legolas would miss it, warmed his face, his head lifting and eyes locking with yours. It was as if he was staring straight into your soul, his piercing grey eyes full of love but fear.

You pulled him towards you, Legolas leaning his head down as his hand held over yours on his face, the other resting gently on your waist. Leaning up, you gently pressed your lips to his. Just once, mind you, the action as tender as possible, letting him come to you.

Legolas leant into you, pressing his lips back against yours, moving at a slow pace. He wanted to savour this moment as much as possible before the two of you walked to what could be your deaths.

ahem.

The clearing of the person's throat sprung the two of you apart, you mentally preparing for the endless stream of apologies to whichever passerby caught you, only for it to be someone you knew all too well.

"Aragorn." You spoke, heavily embarrassed to be caught with your lover.

The ranger looked between the two of you, his face being that awful neutral resting one making it so you couldn't judge his feelings on the matter. Aragorn must have read the panic starting to creep up in you as a teasing smile broke out.

“I have no qualms with this,” he began before looking over his shoulder towards the entrance of the armoury, “but the people of Rohan may not be as forgiving if you are caught.”

He turned on his heel, making his way up the staircase and leaving the two to their devices.

A moment passed and then a chuckle left your lips as a sigh left Legolas’. His head fell to your shoulder as the blush absconding his cheeks spread like wildfire tinting his ears a rosy colour.

At least it was only Aragorn, you mused, If Gimli had found you then he wouldn’t stop teasing your elf.

kisses of reassurance - saying that you're safe, still with them, that your heart is still beating wildly in your chest, that they couldn't get rid of you if they tried, that for some insane reason, you're not dead yet

Your chest heaved, trying to inhale as much air as possible as you sprinted up the mud-soaked hill. Aragorn had yelled for the soldiers to retreat into Minas Tirith and you were making your way as fast as you could until an arrow pierced your shoulder.

The doors were closed and sealed as you entered alongside the last few stragglers, a resounding bang from the wood hitting the stone frame. The room spun on its axis.

The throbbing pain in your arm continued, each ebb seeming stronger which was probably due to the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe you should've stayed fighting, it surely couldn't hurt as much as your arm did, you thought as your uninjured arm reached out to hold yourself up against the wall.

Giving up on keeping yourself upright, you slid falling somewhat ungracefully to the floor, blood dripping from your wound and soaking your sleeve. It was funny how much damage one arrow could cause.

You blinked.

The sun had risen, and from where you could see it, it was around mid-morning. Your eyes focused and you could see a worried face in a sea of platinum blonde hair. Legolas.

Ignoring the sound of the elf’s worry, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, as he gracefully knelt down next to you. His hands mindlessly moved to cup your face, as he had to pull his eyes away from your crudely bandaged arm. The arrow had been jagged and cut more as it pierced you, causing more blood to be lost.

Your hand covered one of his as Legolas moved to press his forehead to yours.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you. Your thumb stroked the back of his hand absentmindedly, as you tilted your head up, meeting his lips with yours. It was one of desperation, longing and fear. A shuddered breath left you as the two of you broke apart.

“We’re okay.”

[tenjikufag]

Duration.

Laios Touden x Tiefling!MaleReader

-continuation of PART1 **LONG PART

-typical angst warnings, read part 1 to get the gist of it all. Thanks for reading! Surprised how many people wanted a part two, I hope it meets any expectations //hides

“Laios! Hey! We need to have a plan for this!”

Chilchuck grabbed the back of the blondes shirt, trying to drag him back. Laios had become hard headed and didn’t think one bit about how to find you aside from starting to explore.

“We can ask around first! You don’t even know where you’re going!”

The half foot was exhausted, it hadn’t even been a week of you missing- they haven’t even checked the morgues or even put up missing posters of you!

“Brother, he’s right.. we need to plan something or else we may miss him..”

Falin’s hand stroked her brothers shoulder, making him stop.. he knew they were right but he wanted to find you as quick as he could.

“Marcille! You have spells to trace things right?”

The elfen girl jolted, not expecting to be called on so suddenly. She clutched Ambrosia close to her chest

“I can only trace recent tracks! He’s been gone long enough that the traces would be gone!”

Her brash response made the man frown, he guessed that was a possibility. It wasn’t his only idea but for now he would have to go through the typical missing persons route…

They checked in with their neighbours, any friends they knew that might’ve seen you, checked the morgues, asked around in taverns, consulted guilds… and nothing came up. No one had even seen you leave? He found that hard to believe!

Suddenly a dog barked, happy to see the group walk by, taking the man out of his thoughts. Falin smiled and knelt down to pet the dogs head.

“You guys seem awfully busy, harassing everyone within earshot. What’s got ya in such a mind?”

An older woman leaned forward in her rocking chair, passing a treat to Falin to feed the dog.

“Harass?! I’ll have you know-!”

Chilchuck was about to rant before Laios covered his mouth

“We are looking for someone, he’s been missing for quite some time now.”

Laios informed them, the dog barked and wiggled it’s way to the others in the group.

“Is that so? Well looks like ya found yerself just the guild for the job..”

Marcille and Falin tilted their head, before looking around the surround area of the building.

Dogs were everywhere, inside and outside of the building. It seemed there were many people involved with this and many more leaving with happy dogs in tow..

“Hunting dogs?”

“If that’s what ya wanna call these buggers. They’re also used for retrieval, search and rescue, or just a dog if ya wanted one.”

Marcille perked up, but before she could approach the woman further a hand came up from the woman

“We don’t lend these dogs to people who are gonna kill them for those goddamn roots, just s’yaknow..”

That’s right.. Marcille hadn’t really thought about the vision of an elf lurching for a dog.. and the implications..

“These dogs here are all trained, I’ve trained every single one of them. They’re reliable, if you need to find someone I’ve got just the dog for you..”

She slowly got up, whipping a cane out from under her and trudged her way into the building.

“Come on, don’t make me walk so much- I’m old can’t ya see?!”

The group apologized, Laios had a new determined look on him. What a lucky break!

The woman walked through the crowd, dogs were excited to see her but drove their attention back to the companions they were being introduced to.

“This one right here, it’s been stubborn to other training but it’s good at scent tracking. It was gonna be one of the guild dogs but it would probably be happier working.”

A large black dog sniffed the woman’s hand before circling around her and sitting. It looked quite dopey.. big and fluffy, big eyes and just a smidgen of drool coming from its mouth.

“How much?”

Laios knew they were low on funds but if this was the way to go.. and it had to be, he would sell everything he had!

“Fer this one? He’s hard headed so his price’ll be lower but name a price.”

The group quickly huddled, negotiating what was reasonable for both parties.

“We got this, and it’s all we got on us right now!”

Laios held out their singular pouch of funds..

Chilchuck couldn’t even argue, he knew the situation and didn’t have the heart to discourage the man further…

“Hm? Oh this is too much. Here, lemme take what I think is reasonable..”

The woman took the bag of coins and counted up a handful of them. Handing back the bag, it was barely any lighter than before.

“Are you sure?! You can ask for more!”

Marcille panicked, feeling bad despite not wanting to lose all of the partys money..

“Don’t question it long ears, this one doesn’t seem like it’ll let you leave without em~”

She laughed, watching the dog pounce onto Chilchuck as soon as she let the lead go. The dog was bigger than the half foot and took over him like he was a toy.

Laios smiled, nodding his head and thanking the woman.

“Just give em the scent yer lookin for and it’s gonna find them, guilds promise.”

The woman was happy, she knew the dog would be a good fit for the group and knew they were trust worthy just from the look of them.

They all split, leading the new companion through the town.

“Whatre you gonna make it smell?”

Chilchuck asked, the dog still nudging his arm for pets. Laios already knew what to give the dog..

Your underwear!

“Hah?! Don’t ya think a sock or maybe a shirt would do?!”

“I want him to smell something intimate, a smell that wouldn’t change because of different soaps.”

The group, aside from Falin, protested but once the dog was offered the scent- it completely pulled away from Chilchuck. It began sniffing around the house and seemingly followed a route that you had done before leaving. It began scratching at the closed front door, indicating the scent left the house.

“Woah, didn’t think it’d work that fast..”

Laios took the leash and let the dog drag them, it was strong in pulling on the lead. Despite its determined snout pressed on the ground it managed to evade any passerby and obstacles in its way.

“Good thing we all packed up before giving the scent..”

The dog led them outside of the town.

—

You sat at a table, surrounded by tieflings. Several towns over you’d found yourself a guild, a community of them; they were more than happy to accept you even if you weren’t one by birth..

They were kind. Accepting. Indiscriminate.

Just like Laios.

Your story was quickly shared amongst them all, many eager to hear of your life before the incident. They all held empathy towards you, trying to help you adjust to the new body and life.

“We don’t have any ways of reversing such a spell.. with no traces or idea of what it could have been.. the risks far outweigh the positives..”

An elder spoke to you, pouring tea for you. You’d expected that answer but it was hard to hear nonetheless..

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, especially losing your mate. We can only help you cope, young one.”

Nodding, you agreed to their terms. It wasn’t anything crazy like devoting your life or anything but simply being able to contribute to the homestead- take care of yourself and be mindful of others.

That’s where you found yourself, amongst other tieflings and learning their ways to make integration easier. You figured you’d lucked out with this and wouldn’t push further.. it was better this way, right?

“You’re gonna make your horns sag with all the frowning ya do!”

A voice cackled, a new friend you’d made walked over and nudged your shoulder. Were you really frowning that much?

“Thinkin’ about him again?”

You nodded, it was obvious to everyone that you were heartbroken in more than one way, not just affected by your change.

“Why’d ya leave if you knew it’d be this hard? Wouldn’t it be easier with him, don’t ya think?”

You really weren’t sure, shrugging towards your friend; she only sighed. She was a mature tiefling, having lived for about 180 years by now so she’s had her fair share of relationships before landing herself a mate.

“Is he hateful? Do ya think he woulda kicked you out anyways?”

No, he wouldn’t. Laios wasn’t like that.. you left because you thought it was the best course of action. What had been done could not be undone, but the guilt and regret ate at you endlessly.

“No.. he was everything to me. The only one I’ll love, kind is an understatement and nowhere near strong enough to describe him..”

Tears pricked at your eyes, you were quick to wipe them away but the soft sniffles still made their way to the woman’s ears.

“Then.. why did you leave.. really? You gotta be honest with yourself.”

You left because it was what was right…. Right? How would he be able to accept you? Why would you subject him to such a horror, and how could you force yourself to watch his love for you change before your very eyes?!

“What I’m hearin is that it was selfish. I’m not gonna sugar coat it for ya love. You don’t know what he woulda said, how do ya think he’s feelin’ right now?”

It felt like cotton was stuffed in your mouth and throat, drying in realization of what you’ve done.. even in the worst case scenario you would never imagine Laios to be a horrid person, it was unfair to think that of him.

You knew he would look for you. You knew how heartbroken he must’ve been..

She was right, it was selfish.. but how could you repent for this? It was done. You were gone from his life and even if he did search for you, it wasn’t like he was going to find you.

Even if he did manage to pass through, he wouldn’t recognize you..

Pulling the hood over your head and clutching it over your ears, you sighed and listened to the woman beside you talk.

“Make sure you’re not late for dinner, sorry for the lecture. Just hate seein’ someone in pain.”

She got up and walked away, leaving you to sulk in the emotions and thoughts.

—

The party had been walking for what seemed like ages, their feet tired and bodies heavy from the week long trek. The dog seemed to have no issue, even trying to forego breaks and sleeping at night!

Sitting at the top of a large hill that overlooked a quaint town, they decided they’d set up camp before traversing the rough terrain below them.

Their dog barked and whined, pulling at the lead Laios tied to a strong tree.

“How does it even breathe with its nose pressed on the ground?”

Chilchuck grimaced, wiping the dogs face of the dirt as Falin readied a bowl of food and water for it.

“It’s a working dog, it probably expects a big reward for finishing its task.”

She smiled, putting down the bowls and watching the dog hesitate before scarfing it down.

“Wish I was that motivated for a damn snack..”

Falin lightly laughed at the man’s words, sitting down beside her brother as he looked over the town in thought.

Laios wasn’t his usual self, he was quiet and almost pensive the whole journey. Everyone had expected some sort of change but this made them uneasy to say the least- he was even more determined than the dog! It was only when the group lectured him (and the dog) that he needed to rest did he relent somewhat.

Pulling out a map, he crossed out another town that they’d just passed through without a sign of you.

“What’s the next town? I hope there’s an inn..”

The elf sighed wistfully, dreaming of a warm bed and a good bath. She looked over the blondes shoulder, seeing where he was reading

“The next town is —! There should be an inn.. and since we didn’t spend all too much getting here we could probably stay there..”

Chilchuck felt himself pale..

“Isn’t that the place with the huge tiefling guild?”

Marcille perked up, double checking the area and the name

“Yes! It is! Oh we should stop there-“

“For what?!”

“They have all sorts of magic that I’ve not been able to study for.. reasons but it will be a great opportunity for my dungeon research!”

Laios furrowed his brows. Tieflings? He’s never seen one in person and never really thought about them..

“Tieflings? What magic would they have?”

Before Marcille could inform him, Chilchuck piped up immediately

“Do you really not know?! They’re all necromancers!”

Marcille smacked the half-foots head,

“They are not! Many are just normal in their magic practices- dead magic is strictly forbidden amongst almost all guilds!”

The two of them argued, Laios was fascinated nonetheless but he still ended up thinking about you.. if you died would he be able to ask them for help?

“Just because the only known Tieflings were necromancers and created the magic doesn’t make them all one! That’s ignorant to say!”

“That’s all I need to know!”

The two of them went at it for quite some time, until eventually cooling off and walking away from eachother.

After eating, they drew straws for nightwatch. Even if they were in safe territories and could sleep peacefully without being ransacked or attacked by monsters; somebody needed to keep the dog occupied. It truly was a stubborn dog.

Laios took the first watch. He sat down by the dog, running his fingers through the soft fur on its back.

Why would you leave? With the quiet and just him alone.. tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t understand it.. what exactly happened? What could have been so bad that you’d leave him with nothing but a letter? It worried him sick aside from being absolutely heartbroken..

The dog quieted down, laying its head on his lap and staring up at him in hopes to comfort him.. he smiled softly and wiped away his tears.

He had always wanted to get a dog with you, growing up with them he absolutely adored them and in his perfect vision of your future it would be you, him, Falin, and a dog or two. It hurt that he only got a dog in these circumstances.

—

The town was already busy, even with it just passing the morning sunrise there were people scurrying between shops, door chimes filled the air, and loud chattering busied the groups thoughts.

Their dog started barking.

It began to pull harshly on the lead, wheezing as it practically choked itself of air. The barks weren’t the typical “let’s go!” But more of a viscous sound, like an alert.

“Dog doesn’t like tieflings, eh?”

Laios looked over, seeing a man chuckling lightly at the dog.

“It’s typical from what I’ve heard, somethin’ about the devils sets them off.”

Marcille rolled her eyes, beckoning the male to move along. It was odd behaviour he had to admit but would dogs really have an innate ability to dislike a group like that? He wasn’t all too sure..

The deeper they got into the city, they started to see them.

Long ears, tails, pointed teeth, horns..

Some had typical skin tones, others were grey, red, and other washed out pale colours but stood out nonetheless.. chilchuck slotted himself in the middle of everyone as if he was walking between three protective walls. Marcille on the other hand seemed giddy, already chatting up a storm with a pair that sat outside..

The others had noticed they’d ended up right infront of the tiefling guild, before Chilchuck could protest anything, the dog started to howl.

It made the new friends Marcille found herself, flinch and excuse themselves.

“Hey! Quiet down..”

Laios spoke down to the dog, trying to keep it close to him but it continued to stand on its hind legs to howl and cry. He apologized profusely to the people who moved away, not really sure what he could do to calm the dog.

The guild buildings front door opened and a hooded figure came out, quick to turn away and walk the way they faced. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something made him gravitate towards the person.

Something about the build and way they walked looked familiar but he dismissed it.. but

The dog got loose.

It had jumped and flipped itself around just right to slip out of its collar- the group stood in shock for a moment before screaming and running after the dog.

—

“There’s a dog outside, I’d avoid it if ya can. Can’t say it would do anythin’ but some people train their dogs to attack us.”

You were warned, pulling your hood up over your head. What a weird thing to do.. but you heard the dog and commotion outside, even seeing two of the other residents come in and complain about the dog.

“-and we were having such a good chat with a cute elf girl!”

Elf? Elves weren’t common to see around these parts from what you’d gathered, never seeing one in the time you’ve been here despite seeing essentially all other groups of people.

Patting yourself down, you said a quick goodbye to the head member.

Slinking out of the door, you saw the dog in the corner of your eye and made way to avoid it. Preoccupied with your thoughts and list of what you had to do, you didn’t hear the people behind you start to holler about a loose dog.

That’s when you felt a bite on your tail.

Pain curled up your spine before you whipped around and saw the dog, it then jumped on you and placed its front paws on your abdomen trying to stop you.

“Go on! Get!”

It only gave a dopey head tilt to you before howling.

“Ah! I’m so sorry! It slipped out of its collar and-“

It was Laios.

The two of you made eye contact, ignoring the dog happily circling around you and sitting down proudly- giving one more bark of “I found you!”..

It was like a standoff, you felt the blood drain from your face and stomach start to churn as his gaze shook while looking at you.

“Y/n? Is.. is that you?”

Your throat felt dry, no words coming but your mouth was left slightly agape.. he found you. How did he find you? You took a quick glance behind him and saw Chilchuck, Marcille, and Falin.

They’d all come for you?

The feeling in your chest dropped like a bad of sand and you spun around and took off, much to the protests of Laios who quickly left the dog with his friends and told them to wait.

You ran around the corner, quick on your feet to escape a confrontation.

He wasn’t supposed to find you! Yeah he could have searched and looked for as long as he wanted but you never expected him to find you!

“Y/n! Wait!”

Air was leaving your lungs quickly, you needed to find an escape but with a final turn you found yourself at a dead end in an alleyway.

“Dammit!”

The sound of Laios skidding on his feet behind you made sure to let you know that you were caught.

A feeling of dread filled every cavity in your body, anxious vibrations and chattering in your teeth while his steps got closer.

“Don’t come any closer!”

You hunched over yourself, pulling your hood down further to cover your ears and face.

“So.. it is you?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I said no.. would you?”

Laios felt his heart break, the cracking in your voice and the way your body shook broke him inside; he’d never seen you this distraught.. he scanned over your cowering figure, first noticing the tail that tucked itself under your legs and the faint silhouette of horns on top of your head.. but he smiled softly to himself.

It was you, and you were still alive.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, flinching away and trying to get up and run but he caught you quickly. Wrapping you in his arms tightly despite you thrashing and trying to get out of his grip.

“Let me go! Please! I don’t want you to see me like this!”

He listened to you sob and scream, letting you scratch his skin and almost tears his clothes; all he could focus on was the warmth he held from you, the familiar sensation of you in his arms calmed his once ever growing nerves even in such a moment.

You were in his arms, breathing and safe. That’s all he knew and all he needed for now.

“Laios Touden! Let me go!”

“No, not until you tell me why you left.”

You stopped thrashing around at his words.. with your lax body he hugged you properly and rubbed his face into your shoulder. The tears wetting your cape and shoulder.

“Did you.. did you leave because you wanted to?”

Your breathe hitched, of course not. You never intended to leave him but.. the change..

“I left because I..”

Sighing softly, you tried to pull away again but his grip only tightened with his own soft shaky breathe.

“Can you let me go for just a moment? I won’t run..”

He hesitated, his arms tensing and he squeezed you before he reluctantly pulled away but kept himself close to you.

Reaching up, you raised your head and took off the hood.

Laios’ eyes widened, looking at your horns first, seeing the way your ears had changed and the other new features you’d gained..

“This. This is why I left.. I can’t imagine that you’d still love me-“

“But you’re still.. you, right?”

He grabbed your hands into his, inspecting the long claw like nails.. lacing his fingers with his own with a soft smile on his lips.

You were still you, nothing inside had changed.. it was all exterior as far as you knew. Biting your lip, the tip of one of your canines peeked out and tears welled in your eyes.

“I don’t know.. why are you looking at me like that?”

Laios had seemed like he was hyper focused and already in his own world.. he was still Laios.. you weren’t sure if it was curious disgust or if he was still surprised to see you like this..

“Laios..? Stop gawking at me! Please say something!”

“Can you uh, can you open your mouth?”

Blinking, you went to speak but before words could come up he already had a hand pushing softly on your upper lip.

“Fangs? That’s.. hot!”

You blushed, pulling your face away from his hand. Why wasn’t he saying anything else about you leaving?!

“What are you saying?! Aren’t you scared?! Disgusted? Just tell me what you feel so I can leave! So you can carry on with your life!”

He flinched, not used to you screaming at him.

“What do you mean?”

His puppy eyes watered, hurt that you’d scream at him and a familiar guilt burned at you.

“What do I mean?! Look at me! I left you, don’t you feel any hatred towards me?!”

He shook his head, once again grabbing both your hands in his.

“I could never hate you. I came looking for you because I love you and don’t want to continue without you.”

The man’s voice wavered, a realization seemingly hit him.

“.. do you hate me?”

He suddenly dropped your hands, for once during the whole interaction he took a step back. Without any thought you quickly wrapped your arms around him to keep him from going further.

“No! I don’t hate you! It’s because of me changing that I left and I just thought that you’d be better off without me like this!”

His tight grip on your waist returned, he leaned his forehead on yours.

“I could never be any better off without you. Never.”

You watched his lip quiver, his eyes shut but you saw tears appearing on his lashes..

“I’m.. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Laios..”

He breathed in, opening his eyes to look into yours.

“Is it okay if I kiss you? Or.. do you still want me to leave you alone.. are you happier here?”

Your heart thrummed in your chest, you planted your lips on his and the two of you desperately exchanged kisses. A bite at your lip made you open your mouth and he took claim immediately, you felt him lick along your new fangs. Pushing onto him he backed away and let you explore his mouth, nipping at his lip and leaving a faint scratch- just enough to draw blood. He winced and you pulled away.

He was flushed red, a faint dot of blood on his lips.

“Are you okay?”

Poking out his tongue, he licked the blood off his lip with a smile.

“Never better… come home with me, Y/n”

You wanted to cry.

He still wanted you, despite everything he still travelled and searched for you- the same love in his eyes from all those years still vibrant and glowing. You nodded, before the two of you left the dead end he gave you a much needed confirming hug. Making sure to nuzzle himself into your neck, feeling your skin against his was a much needed relief.. he was happy.

Laios would never think any less of you, his view of you would never change- so long as you allowed him to be, he would be by your side. He hoped it would be forever.

[hailturinturambar]

Does Sauron fear rejection and abandonment?

I do not elaborate this text according to the human or mortal concepts of the book. But I treat this analysis according to a vision of a selfish and narcissistic being.

Beginning in the First Age, when Morgoth betrayed his brothers, the gods, and corrupted other beings of lesser power, he departed from Valinor. Sauron, formerly Mairon, abandoned his former master and swore fealty to Morgoth. Sauron is now obsessed with gaining power and approval. He is his most loyal and devoted captain. But is that enough?

Like a child, Sauron wants to prove his worth. When Morgoth is destroyed, his environment of trust and security is shattered. He is now on his own and is his own master. Without Morgoth and his influence, Sauron needs the orcs.

Not only for their power and numbers, but he needs someone who sees him, who is willing to sacrifice themselves for him. He is clearly insecure, and it shows. He keeps asserting himself and trying to prove that the orcs need him, as he needs them.

When this love and devotion are denied them, he must use fear to contain their revolt. He must assert that without him, they are nothing and alone in the world. But are they really, or does this reflect Sauron's own fears? They are many, and Sauron is but one.

His death proves that his fears, justified or not, were confirmed.

Sauron now, after ages of suffering, has found a new form. A new way to deceive and manipulate. And that is what he has been doing since his return, deceiving mortals that he is one of them and has lost everything. He has indeed lost, but he has his share of blame. But he is unable to understand this.

Now we are introduced to Galadriel, the elf who has hunted him since the beginning of time. Deceiving her is the pinnacle for him, an achievement. Leading the person who fights against it to the darkness. With Galadriel, he manipulates her, makes her believe that he matters and that above all, that she needs him, and not the other way around.

Galadriel intrigues him. She is a being of light, but she knows and is attracted to darkness. Sauron, like Halbrand, uses lies to convince her, forges a false relationship of friendship and possible feelings so that she trusts him.

He deceives the people of Númenor and Galadriel. We then see his anger at the end of the first season when Galadriel rejects him. He is unable to comprehend that she does not accept his vision and is determined to fight him to the end and never be on his side. Galadriel trusted Halbrand and Sauron is her enemy.

We now move on to Celebrimbor. Sauron needs him to get the rings. Once again he cannot solve his problems and he needs someone by his side. Morgoth, the orcs, Númenor, Galadriel. He then becomes what Celebrimbor needs, he is what he knows to be his greatest desire and dream.

When Celebrimbor sees through the deception, he abandons Sauron. And Sauron is rejected once again. Sauron has a long history of reacting aggressively when rejected. He murdered the orcs in the prologue of season two, drowned Galadriel in season one. When rejected, he tries to inflict maximum suffering on his victims.

Then he murders Mirdania. Not only does he instill fear in Celebrimbor and distrust among his people, he takes revenge and discards the last person who might change sides. He abandons them before he is abandoned. Sauron needs to cause maximum suffering if his subjects will not follow him of their own free will.

The final blow to Celebrimbor reflects the way Sauron reacts impulsively and aggressively in moments of anger and bitterness. He is "the shadow of Morgoth" and this infects him with anger. Always a shadow, a follower, always an apprentice hidden in the shadow of his master. Though wicked and cruel, he is always the second, the one remembered as someone else's follower, never recognized for his own deeds.

Are his tears real? We know Charlie said it wasn't in the script, but let's look at them in the context of the story. He was faking it, but for whom? Celebrimbor was dead and he was alone, there was no one to fool. Or were his tears for the loss of the last person who shared his hopes and ambitions?

After recovering the rings from men, Sauron once again tries to win Galadriel over to his side. Another one of his desperate attempts. He needs her, he needs her by his side. Sauron, as described by Gandalf, “There is only one lord of the ring, and he does not share power”, But he needs loyal followers by his side.

Sauron is always trying to be indispensable to keep those he wants by his side. The new master of the orcs, a mortal king, an emissary of the Valar, the one who will heal Middle-earth.

When Galadriel chooses the ring, Sauron becomes expendable. If she will not be by his side, she must die. So he recovers the ring and destroys those who rejected it.

Sauron shows Galadriel those she has trusted and lost to break down her defenses, destroying her until she can only rely on him.

He tries to seduce Galadriel, as he did with Celebrimbor and the rings. He shows her who she could be, become, if only she would stay by his side. He makes her see how much she needs him, when he is the one who needs her.

Galadriel chooses death to save Middle-earth. She chooses death to save all those Sauron would hurt if he got the ring. She chooses death over him. And he believes she will be by his side, but it is she who deceives him this time. After all the abuse and betrayal, his mind is closed to his influence.

At the end of the second season, Sauron recovers the rings from men. But is that enough? He has the orcs on his side, but out of fear, out of a desire for power. Is that enough? Power can always be taken away, another powerful being can always arise.

Sauron is feared and powerful, but he is doomed to rule the world alone. He is doomed to never return to Valinor, to never meet his master again, and never to be followed by those who are still marked by the light. Sauron will spend eternity alone, accompanied only by fear.

Sauron needs to corrupt everyone in Middle-Earth, so that he will be surrounded by beings with no will of their own who will do nothing but follow his orders and his command.

So, does Sauron fear rejection? I believe so. Not as a mortal, or as a lover, but as a being who only has power on his side and nothing else.

We know how Sauron's dark path ends. Alone and destroyed, like all those he destroyed for not standing by his side.

[avernusreject]

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days. 

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes). 

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

[dalishious]

Veilguard Companion First Impressions

So, I’ve finally recruited all the companions for the Veilguard! And as such, I thought I’d share my initial thoughts on them each.

Please keep in mind that as the title says, these are just my first impressions. I am nowhere near finishing the game yet. My thoughts very well may change after getting to know the characters more as the story progresses. Also, please do not take any opinions you do not share as a personal attack against you.

Bellara

Bellara might be my #1 favourite.

I’ve seen some people just say Bellara is “a Merrill rip-off” but I don’t think that’s fair at all. If all it took was a few similarities to say a character is a rip-off of another character, than I can think of so many boring white cishet male characters who would be guilty of that. But heaven forbid we get more than one elven woman who is passionate about her people’s culture and history!

Frankly, I think Bellara is a breath of fresh air in terms of Dalish characters specifically. Finally, a Dalish elf who isn’t punished for being proudly Dalish by the narrative.

I also really appreciate that so much of her can be easily understood by her backstory, too. Like, her feelings of never being good enough is reflective of the very realistic grief she is experiencing.

Lucanis

If Bellara isn’t my #1 favourite, then Lucanis is. They really both dominate that spot neck in neck. I can’t decide if I want to put him in a jar and shake it to see what happens, or wrap him up tight in a quilt and give him some good coffee.

I’m just a sucker for Lucanis’s character archetype, is the thing. I love taking him out simply because he’s so much fun to have around. And in terms of companion arcs, his is the one I am most intrigued to see where it goes.

Taash

(While I haven’t personally gotten to Taash’s non-binary plot yet, I am aware Taash switches to they/them pronouns, so that’s what I’ll be using.)

The moment I met Taash felt my heart skip a beat. The only thing hotter than their appearance is their voice. I know BioWare probably left Taash out of a lot of the advertising because they wanted to keep Taash’s gender stuff a surprise, but oh my god, because of this I was taken by quite the surprise. And so far Taash seems to be the type to keep a hard outer shell to protect a much softer side, and that is yet another character archetype I really love.

Davrin

My initial gripe about Davrin’s writing being so exclusively about Assan rather than Davrin himself is slowly peeling away, I hope. While I still think its bullshit that you can welcome Assan into the Veilgaurd but not Davrin, at least I’ve finally gotten a few bits of dialogue to get to know more about him finally. I just want to keep this momentum! Because Davrin as a concept has so much potential, in my opinion, and what little bits I have gotten from him have captivated me. But I can’t tell yet if it’s intentionally part of his character that maybe he’s just a closed off person who takes a while to trust others, (a little like Taash?) Or if the writer just cared more about griffons than the actual guy. I’m really, really holding out hope for the former.

Emmrich

Emmrich is so much more charming than I expected, and I found him instantly endearing the moment we met him. I also really like that we’re finally hearing some different stances and insight on death and necromancy than we ever had before from a companion! It makes him feel so fresh and completely new!

Harding

I’ll be real with you: I was not anticipating caring about Harding so much. She was who I was originally least interested in, when the companion line-up was announced. But the direction they’re taking her in has me questioning so much about bigger lore questions.

Unfortunately, I still don’t see much in her except being a vessel for those bigger lore questions, though. Like, Harding as a person has me mildly curious at best.

Neve

I’m really sorry Neve fans, but I just find her really boring so far, in comparison to everyone else. She doesn’t have a lot going on, and what she does have going on, doesn’t really captivate me much. Maybe I was just hoping she’d have stronger stances on things than she does? I don’t know.

It could be that I just really fucked up with Neve, and it won’t be until another playthrough that I’ll get to experience more that will change my mind. Because I will admit I am very good at picking choices she disapproves of, with my first Rook.

[weirdsht]

(Un)Attainable - Alberu/Fem! Reader

notes: the og prompt for this was suppose to be super angsty, but I'm not so mean that I would make you guys cry the second I have the time to write. Also I notice a lot of people are using "Alver" now but I just can't, I'm so sorry huhu

tags: female reader, vague novel spoilers, forbidden love(?), lovesick Alberu if you squint

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Alberu’s first priority will always be the Roan Kingdom and its citizens. He will always put the welfare of his people before his own wants. Alberu is the type of crown prince who is willing to play as the villain just to see his citizens prosper. Even when no one will be able to appreciate his sacrifices. All for the sake of his selfish desire to see his people thrive.

That’s the simple fact the people around Alberu know.

They know that he has no time for love. No time to indulge in such things when he has a kingdom to run. Alberu Crossman has said so himself several times in the past.

But oh, what is this feeling blooming in the crown prince’s heart? Could they be feelings of romantic affection?

Could the prideful prince be eating his own words of not taking in a spouse in the future?

Maybe, or perhaps not.

He does know one thing though…

It’s the fact that he's charting into dangerous territory.

Not only was he dumb enough to fall in love. That wasn’t enough.

No no no

The quarter-dark elf was stupid enough to fall for the one person he couldn’t get.

Adin’s fiance, the soon-to-be crown princess of the Mogoru Empire. The empire of the Sun God Church. The one place where his chances of his dark elf bloodline being discovered is higher.

But can anyone blame him and his beating heart? How could he not fall when she’s so sweet, so ethereal?

So undeserving of that bastard Adin.

She was so good. So kind, so strong, so smart, so compassionate.

And Adin was… a scumbag, for a lack of a better word. Someone undeserving love.

Despite that, Adin was still her fiance. Adin and not Alberu.

“I’ve known him since we were kids. Our engagement had been decided from the moment the emperor found out I was a girl. They said I was the perfect wife for him. That I can strengthen the royal bloodline.”

She had confided one night. Her dignified yet soft voice had a tinge of longing in it. As if longing for the life she could’ve had outside of being Adin’s bethroed. 

“Your Highness [Name] has your time with Prince Adin made you grow some affection for him?”

Alberu hopes that the answer is no. That despite the headstart Adin had, [Name] hadn’t fallen for his charms.

That instead she’d fall for Alberu’s charms.

He’s the better choice. He could give her so much more than Adin could ever. Alberu will make sure that she will have the chance to showcase her talent to the world. He will make sure to treat her like the princess she is. This crown prince won’t treat her as if she’s a mere trophy whose sole job is to be bragged around.

[Name] was so much better than that.

She has wits that can help run a kingdom. She has the compassion for her citizens. The heart that screams and begs to aid her people. She has a strong persona that has so much more use than just being shown around to nobles.

Alberu Crossman can see that she’s worth more than Adin displayed her to be— no, in fact in Alberu’s eyes she’s worthless. No system of measurement can gauge her worth.

“No amount of time spent with Adin can make me grow affection for the man. Whether it’s platonic or romantic.”

The quarter-dark elf almost let his shoulders sag. He was so relieved that he nearly conveyed his true feelings. 

He has a chance– Alberu Crossman actually has a chance..!

Alberu was so happy that he nearly didn’t catch [Name]’s next words.

“That man is so awful, hence why no amount of time with him can make me tolerate him. But I’m sure you already know of such things. As a matter of fact, my trusted handmaiden is on her way to make negotiations with your dear commander.”

Roan Kingdom’s rising sun had to double-take, unsure if the words he was hearing were correct.

“I’m not as dumb as the world thinks of me.”

Alberu must have had a stupefied look on his face for the lovely lady in front of him to make such a comment.

“No, no my lady, that’s not what I meant. I am well aware of your wits and capabilities. It’s just that my commander and I had been ready to do everything in our power to turn you over to our side.”

To turn you over so that you’ll be in my arms instead– of course, Alberu said no such thing. Only letting such degenerative thoughts run through his mind.

“My lady is highly intelligent, highly perceptive. You are also close to Adin, you are a core player in taking such a man off his high horse.”

[Name] had an incredulous look on her face. Like Alberu was flattering her too much. However, he wasn’t. The poor prince had only been telling the truth.

“I didn’t think that the future king of the Roan Kingdom was one to… get brownie points.”

“You wound me, my fair lady. I was merely stating the truth. Nonetheless, since we’re on the topic… do you mind people who try to get brownie points?”

Alberu isn’t sure where he got the guts to be so coy. But he was glad he did because [Name]’s expression was better than he’d hoped for.

“Hmm well, I guess I don’t mind. If it’s from a silver-haired prince maybe I wouldn’t entertain it. Luckily, blonde seems to be my type… or was it brown?”

[Name] had a knowing look on her face and oh god can Alberu fall any deeper. He should be scared, should be nervous that another person seems to know his secret. But no, instead, he feels himself falling deeper in love.

“Don’t worry your highness your secret is safe with me. I wouldn’t do my potential lover dirty like that.”

Yeah… safe to say that Alberu’s in too deep now.

[letstrythisout4]

Godfather

Severus felt sick as he walked up the long walkway to Malfoy Manor. The last time he was there he had been led by Lucius to his personal study, and was greeted by the sight of a very pregnant Narcissia Malfoy. Apparently his friends had been practicing their glamor charms for the past several months and it had been time to come clean. Several tears and glasses of brandy later, Severus left the manor in agreement to help his friends navigate the dangerous task of surviving the war while one was bearing a child.

Now only a couple months later, Severus was back. He had been busy playing double- (triple?) agent and had no time for non-war related matters, making visits to the manor non-existent. But when he had arrived back to his small hidden home to find Narcissa’s screech owl waiting at the window, all exhaustion left him. He tore the envelope open to find two simple words. 

He’s here.

Had it been anyone else the note would have been vague but there were only two “He’s” whose names weren’t suitable for written word. One had yet to be told the name of and the other would have killed them before the letter announcing his presence was even finished.

And so Severus found himself being guided, this time by a frail looking elf, to one of the many bedrooms in Malfoy Manor. He lifted his hand to knock, only for the door to swing open and a strong hand to drag him inside, slamming the door behind him. 

Lucius let him go almost immediately rushing back to his wife's side. On the (rather small, Severus noted) bed, in a long white Victorian nightgown, holding a bundle of cloth was Narcissa; who didn’t look nearly exhausted enough given that the mid-elf was still wiping their hands clean. His friend looked at him, smiling softly. Severus was overwhelmed with anguish, the image before him a stark reminder of how terrible their world was becoming.

Two years ago while at a function he had overheard Narcissa remark that her and Lucius were too young for children, that she wanted to continue her education then have children. The statement was met with many variations of “All young women say the same but….” Severus remembers scoffing under his breath at the idea of Narcissa ever changing her mind. From the moment he met her, even as a first year, he knew that when Narcissa Black wanted something, she would have it. 

Severus knew as he locked eyes with Narcissa that she was thinking the same. That this was not what she had planned years ago. This did not align with her “Graduate, Marry, Transfiguration Apprenticeship, Children, then Settle” plan. 

But neither did war.

Somewhere between Lucius being branded and Death Eaters being tortured and murdered for disobedience, the plan changed.

Severus should have had this realization months ago when they first told him. But no. Only now as he took stiff steps toward the couple did it become real. He stood beside the bed, lips pressed thin, as he tried to be present. To say something. To acknowledge in some way shape or form that he understood how much trust they put in him, for him to be the only one here. 

It was only when Lucius huffed a laugh that Severus seemed to breathe again. “Dobby, bring Severus an armchair.” 

An armchair appeared behind him and Severus allowed Lucius to push him into the seat. “Would you like to hold him?” Narcissa asked quietly. 

Severus knew, logically, that this wasn’t a test. That the question was nothing more than an honest question. That saying “No” would bring no consequence, hell, saying “No” was probably exactly what they were expecting. 

But that doesn’t mean that the offer wasn’t an olive branch being extended out to him. 

Though that should make him turn away, one of the last olive branches he was extended by the pair was an offer to attend a “rally”; that stupid rally is what got him into this Death Eater mess in the first place.

Though the branch after that came in the form of a very very discrete apology for…well everything. 

“Yes, yes I would.”

Lucius and Narcissa had near identical looks of shock across their faces at his answer. Narcissia’s fell faster though, replacing it was a much brighter smile than the one before it. She lifted her arms towards him slightly and he reached for the child holding it- him very carefully. 

Wrapped up in the cloth was a slightly pink baby, though Severus could tell that he would be just as pale as his parents. Big gray eyes stared back at him, the same color as his fathers though with none of the narrow calculated consideration, rather wide with wonder and slight confusion.

Well I suppose you just got here, you’re allowed to be a little confused.

“No crying, good sign I hope.” he remarked quietly, taking in the head of near platinum blonde hair the baby already had. “Lots of hair already, huh?” he asked no one in particular.

Narcissa laughed, “Well I don’t know how much you know about wizarding genetics but strong distinguishing traits always appear in long wizarding families, even though they may seem "unnatural" .” Severus thought back to all the purebloods he knew. Weasley’s and their ridiculously red hair. Zabini's emerald eyes and dark complexion. Malfoy’s and their platinum blond and gray eyes. Greengrass, sandy blonde with blue eyes. Black’s with thick curly hair, that he knew Narcissa fight and charm to appear straight. Though Narcissa didn’t say it with the intention of being pureblood rhetoric, Severus could already hear how a fool could add it to the reasons as to why purebloods must stay “pure”. He bite his lip to prevent a tremor.

Stay present Severus, he scolded himself.

“As for “No crying ", babies are excellent judges of character.” Lucius added smirking in a way that made Severus’s eye twitch. Nothing good came from Malfoy looking as confident as he did.

Severus’s nerves only increased as Lucius motioned for Severus to hand him the baby. Lucius must have known that it would be incredibly unlikely that they’d be able to convince him to hold the baby again. What could he possibly want to say that would cause Narcissa to let him cut the moment short? Severus had known Lucius and Narcissa for nine years. He had been friends with them for eight. And while they were not perfect people, they have only ever acted with his best intentions at heart. 

He felt such strange pity whenever he reminded himself of that fact. The two had truly believed that the best course of action was to join Voldemort’s side. Though Lucius had drunkenly confessed months ago in his study that even he couldn’t have imagined it would be like this. Lucius was a blood purist -without a doubt- but he was also young. The three had known war was on the horizon and, in a disturbing way, looked forward to the downfall of Muggle-loving society. Looked forward to extermination. But it's different when you have someone begging and pleading at your feet for you to not kill them.

Stay present.

Once the baby was back in the arms of his father, Narcissa decided to speak. “We have settled on a name. Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

An involuntary laugh escaped him, “Very unique middle name, where’d you get it?”

“It's the name of a very wise man we hope for him to take after.” Lucius replied, his smirk fighting to become a smile.

“I don’t know, I know a man with that name and he is a right and true prat.” 

Lucius' mouth opened, ready to defend his honor, but was swiftly shut up by his wife, “Enough. I will only be looking after one child, not three, so please act your age.”

Severus had to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from pointing out how he very much was acting his age, what twenty year old wouldn’t mock their friend given the chance. The opportunity was right there.

The couple shared a glance, “We would like you to be Draco’s godfather.” Narcissa said with thinly veiled sadness.

…

“Come again?”

“Severus, nearly daily I am being sent off to complete missions. Missions that may one day leave me permanently injured or killed.” Lucius replied looking down at his son who smiled, ignorant to the conversation around him. “In the case that I am hurt or, Merlin forbid, Narcissa is hurt, we'd like for you to be the one to step in. We want you to be Draco’s godfather.”

“Godfather?” Severus laughed with no humor “Lucius I can barely take care of myself, much less a child.” 

“Gods willing you won’t have to.” Narcissa replied  “But beyond taking care of him if we are unable, you will also just be there for him. Let’s say that in the future the war is over, we are all alive and well, you will be like an uncle to him, nothing more nothing less. We aren’t asking you to adopt him, we aren’t planning on getting ourselves killed. We just want him to have…we want him to have someone outside of us. Because right now, we are all he has.” 

Severus dragged his hand down his face and stood to pace. It was true. Lucius and Narcissa both had lost their siblings to circumstances that will likely never change, leaving them with only distant relatives. Cousins, aunts and uncles that they don’t truly know nor trust.

“And…” she trailed off, side eyeing her husband with worry “And we need someone who will put him above everything.”

His breath caught in his throat. He looked at Narcissa, one of the only people he knew actually cared for him, actually viewed him as a friend and not a pawn. He looked for recognition, for a sign, that she knew something. But her eyes gave nothing away.

Sensing the growing tension Lucius stepped in, “Recently it seems as though our fellow Slytherins have thrown to the side their self-preservation for more…materialistic pursuits. We need someone who, if necessary, will put him before our…ideologies.”

They didn’t know he was a spy, they knew that the war wasn’t secured yet. 

“You believe I am the best option?”

“Yes, it seems that you are incapable of dying and are incredibly morally flexible.” Lucius said it as if it were a joke but the trio knew he was being honest.

The room went quiet, the only noise being the occasional gurgle from the child of discussion. Being a godparent wasn’t just a title in the magical world. It was a moral, legal and magical responsibility. There were rituals and ceremonies that would make him able to reach out with his magic and sense the child. He would have something akin to intuition, allowing him to just know how the baby was. 

Severus sat back down and held his hands out towards Lucius, waiting until the man handed back the child. “Draco Malfoy.” he tested the name. The boy looked at him as if he knew, as if despite being just born it understood that Severus was contemplating whether or not the pair of them were to be bonded magically for life. 

Severus stood up and paced the room again, now ever so slightly bouncing so as to not anger the child though the boy looked perfectly content, looking down occasionally to look at the child, really look at him.

He doesn’t know how long he paced, he vaguely heard Lucius and Narcissa start and stop multiple conversations before he turned back to the couple.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

[tinosawruswrites]

Jealousy

Week 1: Jealousy (One-shot)

BG3 Baddies/Lilith Hell Discord server Fanfic prompt

Word count: ~5000 words

Synopsis: Astarion ponders over his irritation upon seeing Alina (Tav) sharing friendly intimacy with Gale (and Shadowheart) and attempting to deny that it stems from jealousy.

Tags/Warnings: Named Fem! Tav (Alina), OC Tav with backstory and defined personality, rogue half-elf Tav, spawn Astarion, side character Gale, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Scratch, jealous Astarion, mild spoilers for the end of Act1, angst, fluff, mentions of abuse and torture, mentions of scars from abuse/torture (back and forearms), allusions to Astarion’s past abuse, smut, penis in vagina sex, pretentious ponderings of things and feelings, endless musings and vague dialogue attempting to create subtext.

Additional notes: Huge thanks to Zaria's The Rabid House Server and those who helped by betareading and giving me grammar lessons! You know who you are! <3

It was a calm evening for once. The group was on their way towards Moonrise, taking a long rest after spending the whole day traveling over the mountain pass. Everyone was at ease, mostly, or pretending to after the dud that was the gith Créche.

Lae’zel in particular. The warrior was uncharacteristically absent, her head full of things to solve after finding out about Vlaakith’s deceit. She sat sternly at the far sidelines of the camp, deep in silent meditation, uninterested and unbothered by the others relaxing by the fire.

Astarion felt he didn’t have much in common with Lae’zel, but found himself in a similar sort of – albeit entirely different and entirely self inflicted – kind of inner turmoil.

He watched as Alina laughed with Gale near the campfire. The two sat side by side, practically glued to one another. The sight made Astarion’s mouth go uncomfortably dry and he took a slow sip from his wine goblet, holding back the grimace that formed from the sour taste of vinegar hitting his tongue.

His eyes followed the way the wizard’s hand fell on the half-elf rogue’s shoulder all too casually for his liking.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Too intimate.

But why?

He had been intimate with her, way more so than the wizard could ever hope to be.

He’d successfully seduced her and bedded her in the forest some weeks ago. After that night, he’d approached her again during the tiefling party and she had agreed to share his bedroll on more than one occasion ever since.

Hells, she sometimes approached him – the shy, timid Alina approached him, for a heated midnight tryst!

That, if anything, meant something and yet… it might have meant nothing at all.

He lowered the goblet from his lips, glaring daggers at Gale’s back from the shadows he sat under. He wished his stare would somehow sting the wizard enough to force him to keel back and remove his grubby fingers off of Alina, but nothing such happened. The wizard kept touching Alina, and the painful stings kept assaulting his own heart instead.

The way Gale could be at such ease near her, so openly enthusiastic about his boring, fringe interests and hobbies while being so godsdamned sincere about himself annoyed him to no end.

How could someone be so reckless?

How did he manage to survive this long without putting up a front and maximizing the others interest by careful analysis and then providing what the other sought according to said analysis? To him, Gale’s haphazard approach to social interactions was severely lacking and somehow the wizard was still winning and by the looks of it, bloody enjoying himself.

Astarion fixated on the hand that slid to gently pat Alina on the upper back. A spot he knew she was sensitive about anyone seeing in particular, with the ragged scars accumulated under her merciless debt owner littering the full length of it and all.

A spot, he had never directly touched as of yet himself either, and whenever he did so indirectly, made him uncomfortable, prompting him to remove his hand lest he push on her limits too hard to drive her away…

After all, she was self-conscious enough to hide them at all times, even when they had their little midnight meetings.

And there was Gale. Resting his stupid magic hand over Alina’s back so stupidly casually, not a care in the world.

The stinging in his heart began to burn like it had actually managed to carve a tiny hole through his undead flesh. He closed his eyes, lifted the wine goblet back onto his lips and took another bitter sip of the vile liquid in order to wash away some of the pain.

Gale had never laid with Alina, but was somehow closer to her, while he had, and his presence was reduced to sitting in the shadows at the edge of camp.

Not because nobody wanted him near the campfire, no. He was allowed to, maybe even welcome, but something kept him at bay.

Deep down, he knew why this was, but acknowledging such a thing would mean admitting defeat, and he was very keen on not doing so.

It was a frivolous little thing, an irritatingly ardent feeling that had made its existence known to him right after he had slept with Alina the first time. It was supposed to be a simple performance, a perfect illusion that would secure Alina’s heart under his ministrations, but each following night they shared, it became increasingly more difficult to keep the mask of indifference on his face.

He might have been intimate with Alina, but had never shared true intimacy with her.

That was the plan and it was working, so why did he still feel like he was losing? And to a socially awkward wizard no less??

“Either the wine in your cup is sour enough to crease your face, or it’s the other way around.” Shadowheart mused from the side rolling her own wine goblet in hand.

Astarion forced his face into seduction mode, easing any and all tension from his face like a magic trick.

“What ever do you mean?” He asked lifting his brows at the cleric.

Shadowheart raised her own brows up in tandem, giving him one of those sly knowing looks of hers.

“Oh, I just ought to point it out, since my wine was starting to taste oddly sour in your presence. Jealousy is a bad look on you, to be honest.”

“Jealous?? Me?” Astarion retorted with a dry laugh and his eyes fell back onto Gale and Alina.

He was about to take another sip of his wine, but froze as he witnessed Alina leaning against Gale and giving him a partial hug. Shadowheart watched as Astarion’s grip tightened around his wine goblet, threatening to break it if it was anything else but metal.

“Mmh-hmm.” She hummed swaying closer.

“For an over two centuries old immortal being you’re surprisingly clueless about things. Or just playing dumb. Which is it, actually?”

“Things? What things, girl? Be more specific,” he spat back at her.

He got another knowing look from the half-elven cleric.

“I wonder...” Shadowheart mused, now standing right next to him.

She extended an arm towards the way he was facing, pretending to scan what Astarion was looking at, as if she didn’t have the insight to what he was so miffed about.

“Oh! I see it now.” She exclaimed and settled to focus on Alina, who had her head rested against Gale’s shoulder in the distance.

“That’s what’s got you so worked up.” She looked Astarion in the eyes, the gleam in her green irises shining arrogantly bright over her clever assessment.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous. What I have with her is more than boring, innocent cuddling.”

“Oh trust me, I and the rest of the camp are well aware.” Shadowheart stepped back with an unimpressed half-smile on her lips.

Astarion smirked.

Alina was the quiet type and didn’t make much noise, unless a situation really called for it. Even her speaking voice was soft and tender, and she preferred to stifle herself even when she was in terrible pain. In contrast to this, she was surprisingly loud when she was feeling good – and Astarion knew how to make her feel way better than just good.

The morning after the tiefling party had been an extremely embarrassing event for her, when the others subtly brought it up to her during breakfast. After that, he’d made it a thing to let her howl out his name in the middle of the night every once in awhile, just as a reminder who she was tumbling with.

Astarion grinned a smug toothy grin, once again frowning at Gale’s turned back.

“Tell me then, dear Shadowheart, what is it that I’m so jealous about, if I’m so intimate with her already?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Shadowheart stared at him without blinking and took a long, slow drink of her wine. She tasted the wine before swallowing it and peered inside her now empty cup.

“Oh, would you look at that. All out of wine. I would ask for a refill from your bottle, but I know you’d just say no. Then again, I don’t think I’d actually want any. ‘Sour grapes’ and all.” She flashed him a brilliant smile before swaying away and joining the others near the campfire.

Astarion scoffed at the cleric, finished his own wine and remained scowling in the shadows in his own bitterness.

---

As the evening progressed, Astarion witnessed Shadowheart shooting glances back at him while pretending to be drunker than she was and leaning towards Alina, cuddling her excessively. The half-elf rogue would become flustered, but accept her companion’s innocent appearing clinginess nonetheless.

Astarion rolled his eyes at the cleric’s antics, ignoring the blatant spite thrown his way, well aware of the game she was playing.

Two could play that game, but something prevented him from stepping in and participating. He knew it would be a simple win for him – To saunter over, say “hello darling,” sit next to Alina, pull her against his body and nobody would even dare to approach her the rest of the night, no doubts about it.

But it would be a sour win on his part, because it wouldn’t be just a silly game to him at that point.

Shadowheart leaned to hug Alina, resting her head over the rogue’s shoulder to make direct eye contact with Astarion. He watched as the cleric played with Alina’s hair and how she returned the sentiment with a couple friendly strokes of her own.

Astarion just smiled at Shadowheart, feigning calmness in front of her adversarial behavior.

Much to his delight, Scratch the dog suddenly appeared and bombarded Shadowheart with a slobbery storm of affectionate licks as revenge for not paying enough attention to him.

The cleric pulled away from Alina, both hands sheltering her face from the onslaught of jealous canine love. Astarion chuckled with his book in hand, watching Shadowheart trying to fend off the furry fiend, resorting to running away altogether.

Alina laughed at Shadowheart’s mock panic and Astarion felt all the more better for it.

---

After nightfall, Astarion waited. He laid still in the silent dimness of his tent, waiting for Alina to come to him, if she ever would. He stared up at the purple fabric ceiling of his enclosed resting quarters. A lonesome wax candle provided a comfortable amount of light to ease the cold darkness of the night.

It had been a couple days since their latest meeting and he was hoping she would come by for another night of passion, especially after what transpired earlier that evening. He had a lot of things on his mind he’d want a distraction from.

He thought about how it felt when he saw Gale being so close to Alina, looking so intimate without ever having to take his clothes off or throwing himself at her.

He thought about the conversation with Shadowheart and the hesitancy he felt despite clearly being in the right.

He was right.

Because if he wasn’t, then he’d lost not only to her, but to himself as well.

The shuffle of fabric and a familiar form sliding inside his tent snapped him out of his head. A relieved smile grew upon his lips when he laid his eyes on Alina. The half-elf rogue smiled back at him, her cheeks already red.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Good evening, darling.”

“Do you mind some company for tonight?”

“You know I never mind if it’s you, darling.”

“You are allowed to say no if you aren’t feeling it, you know,” she countered sweetly, taking a seat next to his feet.

He said nothing to her offer, instead choosing to admire her form to further drive in her welcome status in his presence.

Alina turned to admire the solemn lonely candle glowing on the small nightstand at the corner, allowing Astarion a moment to take her in. She was donning her regular loose camp clothes: A white, long sleeved collar shirt, basic brown trousers and simple leather shoes.

An unassuming combination, that was worn more for comfort than style, hiding away most of her surprisingly curvy body.

Astarion lifted himself up to his elbows and hooked up one of his knees, giving Alina a seductive look.

“So, looking for a cuddle?” He blurted without thinking.

Alina turned her head to him, eyes wide in mild surprise.

Astarion reeled for a couple fateful seconds and attempted to remedy his momentary breach of character. He cleared his throat and fixed his smile.

“Cuddling sounds nice.” Alina tilted her head with a smile.

“Oh, but surely, you’re looking for more than just a simple cuddle, aren’t you, you sweet little thing!” He purred and watched as Alina’s cheeks grew in color.

She giggled.

“I was wondering if you’re hungry, actually.”

It was a silly question. He was always hungry. Such was the nature of being a vampire. It was still kind of her to ask such a thing, because it wasn’t a question as much it was an offer.

Astarion kept smiling and nodded. He pushed himself up to sit. Alina nodded and crawled closer. She laid herself next to him on the bedroll and scooted flush against him. He took position over her, like so many nights before.

Alina’s golden eyes blinked up at him calmly. Her gaze was relaxed and her body at ease under him despite what was to come. It was in stark contrast to their first feeding session, back when they barely knew each other and all he cared about was rebelling against his master.

Alina had been afraid. She had been tense and could barely mask the shivering of her body when he took his first drink of her delicious life blood. Since then, she’d grown accustomed to it all, the slight pain, numbness and subsequent wooziness afterwards.

Astarion had gotten better at the biting thing himself, finding a comfortable position, able to break skin without too much pain and drinking just enough to sate himself and little enough to not make Alina too ill.

He took one of her hands into his, kissed the back of it and laced their fingers together before leaning in. He rested their joined hands against the side of her head and heard a small hum escape Alina’s throat.

He could have just drunk from her wrist, but both of her forearms were littered with the same destructive marks from her debt owner as her back was. Another spot he had rarely seen and touched directly, fully covered up by her long sleeves even now.

Sensitive. Painful. Intimate.

Alina turned her head for him and exposed the column of her neck, revealing a faint set of bite marks from earlier feedings. Astarion trailed his nose along her freckled skin, hovering over her pulse point, inhaling the intoxicating scent of fresh apples and vanilla that lingered on her body and clothes.

Among her scent were hints of paper and ink, Gale’s cologne, wine and Shadowheart’s perfume.

He felt the stinging in his heart return and felt an urge to retaliate.

He could just bite harder than usual and make Alina feel a smidgen of the burning, stinging pain he was feeling inside his cold hard chest.

That, if anything, would serve her right for making him feel this way.

The sharp ends of Astarion’s fangs pressed against Alina’s subtle flesh, his breath ice cold and heavy on her skin. He opened his maw wider, ready to let the beast take over and punish her, but pulled back moments before it could.

What good would come of him inflicting more pain on her than necessary?

He was in pain and wanted her to know it. But had Alina not suffered just as much as he had already – as proven by the scars she carried on both of her forearms and back?

And unlike him, still showed him kindness, gave him comfort, forgave his shortcomings?

Astarion paused.

Those were all characteristics that pulled him towards her in the first place, what made her so malleable and quite frankly, easy to manipulate. It was also why she was so well liked by the whole camp, him included.

She was…sweet. Truly, and honestly sweet.

He couldn’t hurt her like that, shouldn’t hurt her like that.

He blinked a couple times and ran the fingers of his free hand across the side of her neck as if wiping away loose strands of her hair. The hand that clutched against his gripped harder for a moment. A signal of her continued comfort. Alina’s eyes remained closed, blissfully unaware.

She trusted him so blindly, but he could barely even grin in her presence without feeling like a fraud.

Astarion’s heart ached.

Alina was so close, and yet so far.

And no matter how many times he shed his and her clothes off, he knew that that kind of closeness would only ever be skin deep.

He swallowed and pressed a long kiss against the bite scars on Alina’s throat – like a wordless apology, seeking forgiveness for a sin he had committed against her.

He kissed her neck again and again, each time sinking lower beneath her collar, trying to make amends the only way he felt he could.

Eventually, Alina turned her head to peek at him. She raised herself slightly and brushed a hand through the side of Astarion’s face, a curious look in her eyes.

He smiled at her, hoping to come off as genuine enough.

“I find myself extremely peckish for more than just your neck tonight, darling.”

“You do?” She grinned at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling from joy.

“Hmmm.” Alina kept smiling and tilted her head, inspecting Astarion’s face.

“We can get better acquainted once you’ve had your fill.”

“You know I never have my fill, not when it’s you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you romantic you.” Alina grinned and rested her head back down, her neck fully exposed once more.

Astarion chuckled and decided not to dally any longer. He leaned back in, sinking his fangs into her neck confidently. Alina tensed momentarily, but relaxed after a while, rubbing her thumb soothingly against the hand she was still holding firmly.

Astarion sighed against Alina’s skin, tasting the heavenly nectar in his mouth, swallowing it with big earnest gulps. This was what he wished his wine goblet was filled with whenever he drank and not that rank, vile bile they carried along backpack loads of.

He reveled in her taste and the pleasant hotness that brought his body back closer to life with each swallow.

Alina’s pulse grew more erratic and he knew it was time to stop. He pulled away, licking long languid lines over the two new punctures on her skin. Alina giggled and Astarion began to kiss down towards her open collar again.

His body was practically singing to him – his usually cold limbs felt warm and lively, his skin more sensitive. All his other senses were more keen and sharp as well, his eyes able to spot the tiniest of motions, his nose the smallest of differences in scent, his ears hearing every stifled little sound.

Astarion sucked on the skin at the edges of Alina’s shirt, then bit on the fabric, playfully yanking on it with his fangs. Alina’s pulse remained high and her breathing heavy. She brushed a hand through the back of Astarion’s head, playing with the loose curls at the nape of his neck.

She unlaced their hands and reached to unbutton her shirt for him.

Astarion followed along with each opened button, kissing down the line of skin that revealed beneath the parting shirt. Alina let out pleased little gasps as he went, her hand falling behind his head again, petting through his hair soothingly.

His own breathing had grown heavier and his body was slowly reacting to Alina’s growing arousal. Yet, a part of his mind was still occupied by the way Gale and Shadowheart clung themselves to Alina, seemingly more intimate with her.

He might have held her body, but her heart was out of his reach.

His mouth fixated over Alina’s sternum, just above where her beating heart laid. His fangs dragged over her skin, the maw within him hungry to dig itself deeper and sink its fangs into the ever beating muscle.

He became aware of himself again after Alina let out a pained whimper and he saw the small bleeding scratches that his fangs had left on her chest.

He met Alina’s gaze, silent panic rising inside of him. He tried to smile it off, but felt the edges of his lips drag downwards instead.

“...Astarion?” Alina asked with worry.

Astarion panted.

He felt out of breath despite not needing to breathe at all.

“Were you still hungry…?”

“Yes, that’s it. I was just…”

He was in pain again. A deep, stinging burning inside his chest, coiling around his heart like thorny vines that were on fire. He swallowed dryly, almost missing the sour wine he had downed earlier.

He snapped back to it again when two warm hands cupped each side of his face, turning his head. He came face to face with Alina. She looked patient as a saint, kind like an angel.

“You can have more if you want,” she said softly.

“I…”

He stared into her eyes without blinking, studying the calmness of them. Her pupils were blown wide as she studied him back, her whole demeanor giving off a sense of tender affection.

With that he let Alina guide him back towards her throat. He inhaled the coppery remnants of the previous wounds and nuzzled against them.

His stomach felt comfortably warm, his vampiric hunger sated for tonight. Drinking more of her blood would help to keep it that way longer, but would do little to ease the tightness in his chest.

But admitting to something else would mean losing the game.

Astarion hesitated and kissed the wounds, then bit back through the fresh fang marks, slightly missing and punctured another set crookedly beside them. Alina let out a stifled whine. Astarion pushed Alina down against the ground, once more drinking from her like a desert during a rainstorm, unquenchable, insatiable.

He pulled away when Alina’s pulse began to dip, knowing he passed the line of comfort for her. A red tainted string of spit connected his lips to her neck. Two sets of fang marks now decorated the side of her neck, blooming red from irritation and spilled blood.

Alina panted slow and heavy, her eyes clearly more unfocused.

“… Any better?” She asked weakly.

He nodded.

His stomach felt fuller, but his chest tighter than before.

“How are you feeling…?” He asked barely above a whisper and Alina blinked up at him.

She looked paler, but her cheeks were still somewhat flushed.

“I’m fine, just a little woozy.” She smiled.

He nodded and managed a tiny smile himself.

“Fine enough to ‘get better acquainted’?” He teased.

Alina flashed him a grin and nodded.

He hadn’t lost the game.

---

Discarding both of their clothes came easy to him. Astarion did so swiftly and without any trouble, an art he had over two centuries of time to perfect.

Astarion left Alina’s shirt on as he always did, to ease her mind off of the scars on her back and forearms, even if he wouldn’t mind seeing them.

Since when did he feel this way?

He’d seen them back at the grove with everyone else. Deep, ugly gashes running every which way up and down her back. Hideous to look at. Her forearms were no better, and if it weren’t for Gale, he and everyone else would have been spared from knowing what grotesque scarring from consistent and regular torture looked like.

At the time, he felt lucky his own were just a morbid poem his master carved onto his flesh over the course of a night. A long, agonizingly painful night, but just a single night nonetheless. Still, he couldn’t bare thinking of actually seeing the scar himself and was partially glad, he probably never would have to.

Alina panted beneath him. His hips moved against hers in languid motions, controlled and automatic. Astarion had both of his hands clasped with hers on each side of her head, their fingers tightly intertwined. She was looking directly at him, her golden eyes filled with desperate want.

Her body felt hot and sweaty against him. Her core was slick and swollen from arousal, making it easy for him to keep up his pace. Alina whimpered and moaned quietly beneath him, either conscious of her own voice and purposefully keeping it down, or too tired to let the world know how good she was feeling.

Even without her usual vocalizations, Astarion knew how good she was feeling. The subtle trembles of her body, the way her back arched when he aimed his hips a certain way… It wouldn’t be difficult to force her voice out, but tonight, it didn’t feel appropriate.

Instead, he drank in the quiet noises of pleasure that slipped past her lips, satisfied by the private secrecy it gave to their little rendezvous. He smiled and increased his pace to edge her further. Alina’s jaw gaped and she let out a pitiful gasp. Her hands grasped his even tighter, her nails digging into his skin.

He smiled, enjoying the view of their group’s resourceful, witty leader rendered into soft, quivering putty in his hands.

Alina squirmed under him, a telltale sign of her approaching release.

Astarion’s flesh yearned its own release, his abdomen tightening in preparation as he watched Alina’s pleasure contorted face. It was like clockwork these days. Watching Alina as she came apart in his hands did things to him, things he never thought he could feel with another person.

Every movement came automatic to him, practiced to perfection like a rigorous dance. No room for self-expression, lest it break the fantastic illusion he was projecting. He felt himself slip away, but was immediately yanked back into the moment by hungry kisses.

Alina licked her way into his mouth, skillfully pulling all his attention back to her. She was growing so close, the way her wet folds clasped his strained length confirmed it.

He let his focus slip away in the moment, knowing once Alina reached her peak, he’d get his – a treat he got to experience almost without fail with her.

Alina’s hands slipped away from his lazy grasp and winded over and around his neck and shoulders, pulling their bodies flush together. Her soft, ample chest squished against his toned chest and her plush thighs pressed harder against his sides. One of her hands settled behind his back, while the other tangled lovingly into his hair.

His own confused hands felt around the bedroll before instinctively wrapping under Alina’s back, holding her tight.

She broke the kiss that had continued all this time and panted right next to his ear, her voice whiny and desperate.

“Astarion…!” Alina whimpered and Astarion felt a jolt run through his spine.

He rocked his hips harder and Alina’s legs fell wider apart. Her voice threatened to grow in volume and pitch, but Astarion got overwhelmed by an increasing need to keep all of this moment to himself. He sealed her mouth with his own, capturing each and every moan between his lips.

He tasted every corner of her mouth, already knowing each and every inch of it, still not bored to explore through it all over again. Alina kissed him back fervently. Her tongue pushed boldly past his back into his mouth, unafraid of the sharp fangs that might scrape and make her bleed.

Astarion moaned when he felt one of Alina’s hands stroking through his curls and lightly yanking at the strands every now and then. The hand over his back was digging its nails into his skin, a slightly painful, but welcome feeling he’d grown to enjoy.

Finally, Alina’s breathing grew erratic and her movements shaky. Astarion smiled against her lips and brought her over the edge, soon following suit. Alina’s pleasure bloomed around him, heated wetness convulsing around him as he spilled inside of her. His hips shook against her, their rhythm broken and uneven. He hummed against Alina’s lips, the blissful heat of his own orgasm washing over him.

Both of them stilled, the silence around them filled only by their heavy breathing and the occasional wet sound of their conjoined bodies still moving against one another.

Astarion moved to separate their bodies, but Alina wrapped her legs around his lower back, trapping him in place. She cupped his face with both hands and kissed him slowly. Astarion blinked in surprise and eased into Alina’s wordless demands, allowing her to shower him with more physical affection.

Usually he parted their bodies quickly after everything was done, like finishing a smooth, clean business transaction with no further clauses to fill. It was how he used to go about things. A neat modus operandi to keep things simple and to prevent himself from getting too involved.

Alina was an exception – “a regular”, as he sometimes thought to himself. He found himself slipping further from his own rules each night he spent in Alina’s embrace, lured in by her sweet nature and the gentle allure of her touch.

She caressed his cheek with a thumb.

“That felt good.” Alina said softly.

“I am well aware. You were about to wake up the whole camp again…”

Alina’s happiness died and turned to embarrassment. Her blush reached all the way up to her pointy ears.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Oh, yes you were, sweetheart.”

“I held back.” She claimed.

“Correction. I held you back.”

“Maybe.” Alina peeked to her side, feigning ignorance.

Astarion chuckled.

“I am in control of you darling.”

“Are you?” Alina tightened her legs around his lower back and rolled them over.

Astarion let out a little whimper, staring up at Alina in shock. She sat upon his hips with her back straight, hands drawing lazy patterns on his abdomen.

“You’re more than welcome to prove me otherwise.”Alina smiled and leaned down over to him.

Astarion smiled and remained where he was, allowing Alina to pull him into another slow kiss. He relaxed against her, thinking through her statement and forgot about it altogether, melting into her kiss.

All thoughts about Gale and Shadowheart were gone, pushed off the cliff of his mind into the pit of obscurity.

Alina was here, in his arms. He had her all to himself, and she had him all to herself.

He had lost the game to himself.

[defira85]

With the proviso that I have not finished the game and I in a really shitty mood about my Rook's body type breaking in the romance cut scene specifically, I have thoughts-

I saw a post that said that Veilguard is so fundamentally determined to say nothing that sometimes it comes out as incredibly offensive with just how aggressively noncommittal it is

and that's really it, isn't it

Shadow Dragon Rook got into trouble for saving slaves, and the Viper is a vigilante saving slaves, but we never SEE any slavery. We see poverty and abuse, but there's no talk about the rigid castes within Tevinter. Maybe the Venatori were drawn primarily from the lower classes of mages, those without family seats in the Magisterium, who were drawn to the promise that they could accumulate power instead of being trapped in a system that dooms them to failure and looks down its nose at them for being born not important enough

Tevinter's whole thing across the series has been slavery!!! And we get one or two codex entries about how Dorian gave such a nice speech about "slavery bad :c" and that's it

The Crows are so utterly toothless. Just an aggressively white-washed cool vigilante group, no hint of their child abuse or slavery practices, where's the acknowledgement that they make a lot of their money from slavery?

Lucanis' year in solitary confinement and torture is just window dressing. Again, haven't finished the game, but no examination of it at all 45 hours in. There's so much literature about what solitary confinement does to a person, how it's a form of torture, and just thinking about how much of Zevran's past abuses were woven into his characterisation so carefully... it's like chalk and cheese

Davrin once again filling the role of Bioware's obligatory "elf who hates being an elf and aggressively denies all elven heritage" companion

And like... every mini villain is just someone who was too ambitious and that made them eeeeevil. All the companions' rivals get dropped on Rook without any build-up, no casual conversations to say "oh I had this ex-friend/rival/foe who shaped me". Maybe I've been spoiled by Baldur's Gate 3 and how carefully all of the companions' abusers were woven into who they were as a character and how it shaped them and their story. Gortash didn't just come out of nowhere, Karlach was mentioning him in chapter 1! There were codex entries about him to be found weeks before you met him! But who the fuck is Johanna Hezenberouasertrousers or whatever the fuck her name is. She was ambitious, TOO ambitious, so she's evil and Emmrich's mirror. Cyrian joined the Forgotten Ones, and sure the Evanuris turned out to be super evil abusers that all the myths and religion was super wrong about but this is WORSE CYRIAN HOW COULD YOU

Don't get me started on whatever the fuck the game is trying to say about religion and about faith. Gods, it's so mid 2000s atheist edgelord memeing "unfortunately for you.... I have reason and logic on my side....... checkmate religion..." There's no nuance at all!!!!! Just "religion is a lie so faith dies now" no acknowledgement of faith as a cultural force!!! Of CULTURE being shaped by faith!!!! Okay I said don't get me started, I'll stop now

Whatever the fuck they're doing with the Qunari. They really just have gone back to their incredibly racist roots of "islamic borg" as David Gaider called it but they've made it even more offensive by making them all so... I don't know what word I'm looking for is, but it's about the sex appeal. How they've got their entire chiselled asses out. They look like they're trying to take part in Mister Bodybuilder Treviso, not a vaguely regimented army that was incredibly carefully structured up until about 5 minutes ago

This was more than what I intended to write lmfao. It's a fun game! I'm enjoying myself, as a fun action RPG. But after Baldur's Gate 3, it's just so utterly spineless. It has nothing to say. Evil people are evil, good people are good. It doesn't take a stand about anything. It is so determined not to be offensive to anyone at all that I find it gross

I'll finish it, and then I'll go back to BG3

[raayllum]

Punishment VS Acceptance: The Silvergrove and Callum

5x01, 5x04, and 5x08 were probably my favourite episodes for Rayla and Callum’s dynamic this season, for obvious reasons, and rewatching the bulk of the season next day after (and for a nice meta segue) I wanted to tackle the downright beautiful parallels between 3x03 and 5x01 (and a little bit of 4x03). 

So let’s get into it.

As we all know, Rayla returns home in 3x03, and gets a... more brutal welcoming than she was expecting, partially due to her own perceived crimes, and due to the Silvergrove’s associative prejudices/inclinations.

It is extremely important to note that (at this time at least) Rayla is banished for something she didn’t even do: “But you didn’t run away from anything. They just don’t know what happened.” And although initially dejected, she remains hopeful and ‘confident’ that Ethari wouldn’t have done the spell.

Ethari, however, temporarily chooses his grief and village over his daughter, and shuts her out... in a way, framing wise, that’s not too dissimilar from Callum’s initial cold reaction in 4x01.

Which makes sense, as both Ethari (and later Amaya) state is quite similar:

Then, of course, while pursuing the exact opposite of abandoning her family, and trying to figure out what happened to them, Rayla is caught emerging from Viren’s old sealed off chambers in 5x01 and accordingly arrested. What I found particularly interesting is that in spite of being fully able to, Rayla doesn’t actually say a single word during her pseudo trial, Callum and Opeli doing all the talking for her (on both ends). 

She knew stealing the key wasn’t the right thing to do, but felt unable (or unwilling) to share the burden of the coins with Callum, probably because she hasn’t been able to rely on anyone in a long time (two years alone did not help) and that it’s always been something she’s struggled with. Runaan and Callum’s complicated personal history likely didn’t help either.

And just like the Silvergrove, Opeli is arresting her on the basis of association:

and unlike the Silvergrove, on account of crimes she actually committed. 

And I think there’s a lot of reasons Rayla doesn’t speak up in this scene - shame, the way she’s never been particularly good at advocating for herself, the general emotional difficulties present - but I think the main reason is that she left Callum an explanation in Through The Moon about why she left and he was still (understandably) angry with her, but more than that is that the Silvergrove flat out did not care about her intentions, and she knows it. 

E: I told Runaan you were too good hearted for the work of an assassin, so I know you did not betray them out of malice. 

Why would this time be any different, especially when as stated, she’s done all the things she’s being accused of?

But Callum isn’t the Silvergrove, so of course he’s different.

Where they stripped her of her home and literal identity, labelling her a Ghost, he reaffirms that her name - “She’s not ‘the elf’ - she’s Rayla” and that he knows exactly who she is. Where the Silvergrove robbed her of a chance to explain herself...

Callum says that she doesn’t need to even when it’s being demanded of her. Whereas before her intentions didn’t matter, they’re all that count here, enough that he is willing to disregard literally everything else (including his own complicated feelings about said murder bow). 

C: I know this. [To love is simply to know this:] The tides are true as the ocean is deep. O: What does that mean, Prince Callum? C: It means I trust her. Unconditionally. Let her go. Now. 

He doesn’t know ‘what happened’ as far as her intentions and motivations, only the worst presentation of her behaviour. But he refuses to punish her for doing something alone, for not asking for help, for keeping a secret. Instead he’s warm and compassionate and vouches for her, and if anything takes a certain amount of self-imposed responsibility on his own shoulders of realizing that if Rayla didn’t feel like she could come to him with something, he needs to be doing something different. 

All while also reaffirming his faith in her - that it’s nothing that would hurt him, that she wants to tell him, that she will tell him one day, that she will be ready, and that he hopes she knows she can trust him.

Because he loves her.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Do I expect the writers to have given us an abundance of codex entries from a romanced inquisitor to fill in the gaps Veilguard created? No, of course not. There are too many possibilities out there for them to further confine canon to just one iteration of Lavellan.

Am I going to write several of them to feel personal fulfillment anyway? The horrors (passion for this love story) never cease, and therefore neither can I, so yes. Yes I am.

I'm sure when I have all of them I'll include them all together as another entry to my "blurbs I'm writing to maintain my sanity" pile, but for now, this will have to do.

Solas,

Is that still what I’m supposed to call you? The reports we’re getting show startling numbers. More elves disappear in the dead of the night to pledge themselves to the Dread Wolf’s cause than we can keep track of. I hope that if they find you, they cannot tell that their beacon, the hope to which they cling with enough desperation to leave all they have ever known, sees them as a mistake to be remedied. 

More than that, I admit, I hope that you have stopped believing it. If…

*The writing peters off here, followed by a new color that looks only a little newer than its preceding one.*

If you meant what you said, if what we had was real, then I must ask you to look at every elf that shares my hair color, the atrocious snort that follows a laugh I was not expecting, or my passion to learn from you, and see that you cannot find me real without finding them real. The Dalish have not always been kind to you, and you did not get a fair chance to meet elves from the city while the world withered around us. But in these few years of relative peace you have fought to give us, could it hurt to take the time to learn the hearts of those who would follow you without even being asked?

In my own greedy way, I would love to let you think the only rare and marvelous spirit to be found is mine. But to pretend it's a universal truth instead of the result of a missed opportunity to get to know this new world you awoke to is a luxury I cannot afford. I confess, however, that I would not mind if mine remains a spirit that is rare by virtue of being wholly and completely yours.

If it cannot be done for my sake, perhaps you could be persuaded to do it for your own. It is a solitary path you have chosen. Even now, I cannot bear the thought of leaves crunching beneath your feet and no one being there to hear you remark on how fall has come earlier this year, how you once met a spirit of curiosity who asked you to gather leaves into a pile so that it might rush in and burst out, disrupting them, only for you to do so over and over again until it was satisfied. I hope you will change your mind, I hope you are not hiding the best parts of yourself from those desperate to know you. Most of all, I pray you are never again alone. 

They’re having trouble finding a satisfactory replacement for my arm. Thom was able to fashion something from his stash of whittling wood, but I’ve had to enlist Dagna. I know the Inquisition is in the process of being dismantled. I loathe that I have asked her to stay when she has her own studies to return to. But if I am ever to convince you to return home, I suppose I must practice what I beg of you and permit others to help me. Worse, I must be brave enough to request that help in the first place. 

I have sat with this letter, left it, and returned several times across the span of weeks, and I still am not sure what name I should grant you. Regardless, it does not change how I must sign off if these words are to be honest ones.

Ar lath ma, *a space remains, as if the Inquisitor meant to write a name and could not*

Rielle

[hobnob2020]

The Veilguard review

Big spoilers ahead for the people that haven't finished the game yet.

So after plugging 70+ hours I've finally completed Veilguard.

This will just be a general overview of how I felt about the game, I'll likely do a separate one for Solas/Mythal and Lavellan and one for a Lucanis romance.

First off I want to say that any negative criticism I had for the game I am reminded of how difficult this game was to get off the ground running in the first place; it experienced multiple layoffs, it pulled the team to focus on Anthem when it failed, the team was reduced, OG writers left and multiple people lost their jobs once their work was complete and lets not forget those that worked on this during a pandemic so I think it's important to keep coming back to this so that we can just appreciate what we had as an end product.

Now the end product itself, did I enjoy it? absolutely.

I've laughed, I've been giddy, I've been angry at times and in those final moments was reduced to tears that reconciliations were reached and it was the end of a very long 10 year wait.

I want to start from the beginning where we welcomed our Rooks because holy moly is the character creator detailed. I mean seriously every single Rook I've seen is a catwalk model 😂

Every faction felt different and the brief history to your character was really well done; I went with a female mage elf I the Crows and I loved being a Crow from the get go; the decision that she made that essentially forced her to leave the Crows because she'd basically f*cked up a mission was really interesting because there's still that tension once she returned with Viago (who I adored BTW, his disappointing fatherly persona against Teia's comfort and protectiveness was just perfect) and it set the course for every Rook wanting to prove themselves.

Briefly touching on the Inquisitors creation I was so happy that this was an early decision and hearing her say "it's good to see you again" was like a stab to the heart and felt like I was being welcomed back home after such a long journey.

Once into the gameplay it's hard to ignore how beautiful the graphics look, Minrathous' design was so unexpected and how the locals were treated makes me wonder how Dorian ever survived 😂

There were certain scenes that just blew me away and made me realise just how far games have come to allow us them; the moment you open the doors at Weisshaupt and see Ghilan'nains massive looming face in the clouds was just breath taking, in fact the two gods in general were very well done and there wasn't enough of them in my opinion.

The animation as a whole was very good and again compared to Origins this game is on a different level of good (hate to compare it to other games but Balders gate is probably the closest contender).

There's a particular scene with Lucanis as a romance where he walks over to you after you basically say you like what you see and that Spite doesn't define him, the way his face moves, the little smile, the way his eyes drop to your lips when you touch him floored me and I think having motion capture for this game definitely paid off.

The mechanics of the game were fantastic and as I've yet to play anything other than my mage I am excited to play other classes and possibly Warrior for the first time across 4 games, although Spellblade ruined a mage for me as I love being able to be upfront in a battle and found it perfect for my Crow mage.

I went with purple Rook for this playthrough as I wanted a charming Crow who had far too much energy and was awkward in the best way possible and loved every minute of it; Bioware has always been very clever at establishing the different personalities and how they affect the world around them. Going into a scene and having your Rook react by themselves depending on their personality makes the character feel real and that we aren't just following the same thread of dialogue.

When you first meet Solas they didn't lie that it would feel like an end game mission, the dialogue was fantastic, his voice actor is just incredible and he has a talent to be confident, insecure, determined and doubtful of his own words all in one and it was very easy to fall In love with Solas during inquisition.

I really enjoyed how the first decision you make as Rook ends with the gods escaping, either Harding or Neve being injured which puts doubts in your friendship and leadership from the beginning, that Solas who we'd believed to be the big bad was essentially trapped and looked like a kitten compared to these evil beings who want world domination, it really makes the player question how are we going to fix this massive mistake that we've created, because it takes the gods no time to get to work whilst we scramble to find a team and cleanse multiple parts of Thedas at the same time aswell as setting up base in the fade where we dig deep into the history of Solas and the ancient gods past.

The companions of this game I felt were individuals in their own ways with their own back stories and present problems but I felt as a whole weren't as good as say the previous game; there was no double crossing mages or people with their own greed and agendas, no hidden pasts like Blackwall which personally fell abit flat for me.

In fact I'd say the only one who had an interesting story was Lucanis after his imprisonment and demonic possession and the struggles that came with it.

I don't think I'll romance anyone else other than Emmrich as the others just don't interest me.

It just felt like you were constantly flitting to the Lighthouse and back to grind out companion tasks in order to gain approval and faction points, there was no option to just have a conversation like previous games instead it was very much on their terms and where you were in the game which was something i really missed.

Still, their personalities were very different and characters like Lucanis, Taash and especially Emmrich stole my heart very quickly.

The banter was top notch quality as per 👌 some of my favourites were from Taash and Lucanis, just being a Crow in the middle of their conversations about capes was hilarious at times.

The voice acting as a whole was very good, I felt with some characters particularly Neve it felt abit flat in moments but Bioware have a knack for finding talented voices; having someone as bubbly and excited as Bellara to the deadpan and slightly blunt at times Taash made for a very diverse team.

Returning characters was always a welcome and there were some surprising cameos such as Isabella in the Lords of Fortune faction.

I know alot of people were disappointed that this game felt limited in bringing over past choices but it needed to make sense; Sera isn't going to return and be found in the deep roads etc, it needed to serve a purpose to The Veilguards story and I'm happy with the ones we did get.

When it came to the three decisions from inquisition yes I was disappointed at first; why are we ignoring who drank from the well, why aren't we talking about Hawke, who's ruling Fereldon, who's Divine?.

I think we need to remember that after 4 games the decisions from little to big are so vast that there's simply no way to fit it all in and satisfy everyone and baring in mind this game is for new players too.

Having this game set outside of Ferelden means those decisions won't carry weight in Veilguard, who is divine won't affect us, where Hawke is doesn't affect us because we know they'll either be in the fade or fighting against the evil.

And yes a codex could of helped address any of this but again, it's a smaller team now at bioware and the focus is on Rook this time around, it's their turn and tbh reading codex' is time consuming when you've got gods to fight 😂

The only decision I really wanted brought over was who drank from the Well because as a Solasmancer he was so pissed at me but I think I know why it was glossed over.

I think having Solas being able to control your Inquisitor would have the issue of consent and violation and as a romance that doesn't feel right, especially given how Mythal basically manipulated Solas and used him as a slave it just goes into uncomfortable territory.

We could also argue that Solas absorbed Mythals essence so all that's left is her memories and the tiny fragment you find in the crossroads so essentially Mythal ceases to exist thus there's no pledge anymore for the inquisitor and that she only needed her help to fight Corypheus, who knows but I'm glad Solas wasn't able to do that to the Inquisitor.

The endgame was amazing, finally killing Ghilan'nain was so satisfying and Lucanis was an absolute bad ass doing it, seeing Solas become the dreadwolf and hearing his pained cries was heartbreaking even if he couldn't stop betraying my Rook 😂.

Forcing you as a player to lose a character despite high factions and hero status was brutal, and I unfortunately lost both Davrin and Assan. As much as I loved them both, it made sense to his character to die in that way, and Harding has so much more to do for the dwarves and titans.

I'll talk about Solas/Mythal and Lavellan on another post but I was very happy with how it ended, seeing the art concept of him making himself tranquil just shows how differently it could of gone, and I honestly expected them to die in each other's arms.

If I think of anything else I'll add it onto this post but yeah, 10 years man and it's over, well not over completely as I'm creating an Emmrich romance as we speak but I can't believe years of speculation and doubt is now in our hands forever.

Yes this game could of been better in parts and blew my expectations away in others but I loved it and I think the negative criticism over characters like Taash, the three previous decisions, crazy solasmancers which bring the team down is so unjust and people need to reflect on themselves as humans.

All I would say to those that critic this game as heavy as they have is to take their time and play it again, you'll find things you missed the first time around, really read the codex', just sit back and understand what the characters are saying, read between the lines and just take it back to beginning of this post, this game very nearly didn't happen and alot of talented people that have given you this game have lost their jobs so please just be grateful for what we do have and pray that this isn't the end of dragon age.

Edit:

The whole Varric thing was probably my least favourite thing about the game, not because he died but it just didn't make sense that Rook didn't know until the very end.

I had my suspicions because he was always tired and going back to bed and something about it didn't feel right.

For other companions to say "oh we thought you knew" was just silly, I could understand Solas using his powers to create an illusion but why not on all the companions because surely Rook at some point was like "Oh i'll take some food to Varric" or "have you been to visit him", without that Rook just sounds crazy 😂

[starlessea2]

Wild-flower [Astarion]

Chapter 3 - Cut And Run

Summary: The first time Astarion saw her, she'd been drunk and starry-eyed. The next, sober enough not to trust him. A/N We finally see Astarion's POV, and boy is it fun to write... Masterlist

Astarion unfurls his bedroll furthest away from the fire. He doesn’t trust those people. Not yet—probably not ever.

But he understands they are bound by whatever unfortunate circumstances they’ve found themselves in, and Astarion’s not foolish enough to think he’s better off without allies. So he plays his part perfectly; he’s charming, witty, co-operative, even.

But on the inside, he’s shaken. 

When he first came to, on that patch of grass near the beach, he was sure he would burst into flames at any given moment. But he didn’t. Oddly enough, the sun didn’t scorch his skin. Neither did the tide sting him; it only made shoes soggy. 

Two hundred years of vampirism reduced to naught thanks to the houseguest swimming about in his brain. He’s almost thankful. 

That is, until a bunch of misfits decide to sneak up on him. 

Before he knows it, he’s got one pinned to the ground, and her voice is ringing in his head. All at once, he’s seeing into the deepest corners of her mind; he hears her fear, surprise, and then, her relief. And of course, it’s the bloody wood elf. 

She looks as flushed as she did in Fraygo’s Flophouse—even with his knife at her throat—and for the first time since opening his eyes, Astarion is reminded that he cannot escape the past.

It’s an awkward reunion. He barely recalls her name before she reminds him. But they’re a united front for the time being, and Astarion knows he can use that to his advantage.

So he sticks close. They rescue the gith without bloodshed, much to his dismay, and their rag-tag group of weirdos becomes weirder still. It’s not until the sun starts to set that the realisation sinks in: this is his life now. 

By the time they make camp, Astarion is tired, hungry and irritable. None of which he shows. Instead he sits quietly and observes his surroundings.

He makes note of Shadowheart, tinkering away at that strange artefact. He watches Lae’zel sharpen her sword (probably to take the cleric’s head with it later), and even spares a glance for Gale, who is thumbing through the tome he ransacked from a dead man’s crypt. 

Then there’s Jessamine. 

He catches her trying to look busy—trying to avoid his eye. It’s almost sad how out of place she appears as she smoothes out her bedroll. He’s certain she’s never used one in her life. But still, she puts on a show of fiddling with it, and once she’s done, she finally lets herself saunter over.

Astarion’s grins. “What a surprise,” he remarks, “if I didn’t know better, my dear, I’d say I had a stalker.” 

Her expression is blank. “May I sit?” she asks. 

He gestures to the empty spot beside him. She’s a different person from the Flophouse, he thinks. Far less giddy; far less wine.

Jessamine perches on a nearby log, allowing plenty of space between them. At closer inspection, Astarion sees that her wheat-coloured hair has been braided with an array of decorative charms. A wood elf tradition, perhaps. It’s delicate—intricate even. But her skin and clothes are both caked with filth, and if it wasn’t for that face of hers, no one would question her status as a beggar.

“So, did you have something to say or did you just come to admire me?” he asks her.

A small laugh follows. “And which would you prefer?”

The lightness of her voices catches Astarion off guard. It’s the first hint of personality she’d shown him all day (not that he’d been waiting for it). 

Around the others, she’d acted so well-adjusted. Nothing but smiles and well-timed quips. But only Astarion had noticed how she’d skulked off into the woods at the first opportunity. And he certainly didn’t miss her red-ringed eyes and snotty nose when she returned to camp. It was equally pitiful as it was disgusting.

“Astarion,” Jessamine says, and for a second he worries his thoughts have leaked out. “I came to apologise. I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot today.” 

Astarion’s about to applaud her sarcasm when he realises she’s being serious. He looks at her incredulously. Surely she remembers that he was the one to nearly slit her throat?

“Before, at the Flophouse… I admit I’m not much of a drinker.” She pauses. Astarion tries to act as though that’s some sort of revelation. It’s not, obviously; he’d heard her slurring long before he made his move. “I’m embarrassed you saw me like that, but I shouldn’t have treated you coldly because of it. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Astarion bites back a scowl; her sincerity irks him. He’s about to respond when Jessamine’s eyes suddenly grow wide, and words pour out of her mouth faster than she can think them. “Not that I’m glad you were abducted by mindflayers and have a parasite swimming around in your skull—gods no, of course I didn’t mean it like that—”

Watching her is painful, Astarion thinks. He's sure he’s aged a decade. She carries herself with such elegance, but it’s all for naught when she opens her mouth.

“—I’m just relieved to see a familiar face. No matter how new.”

And by the gods, she’s finally finished.

Satisfied with her answer, Jessamine nods to herself before turning to face him. There’s a smile on her lips. It’s young—pure.

That stupid girl.

“The feeling’s mutual, my dear. And I must say, a face as sweet as yours is truly something.”

Jessamine either doesn’t hear him, or pretends she doesn’t. “Tell me,” she says, “how does a magistrate come to end up in Farygo’s Flophouse, anyway? From what I could tell, it’s hardly a den for polite society.”

Astarion hums. A million different answers run through his mind—each as well-prepared as the next. But for some reason, he chooses a new one. “It’s a secret.”

“I’m good with secrets.”

She's giving Astarion an opportunity, but he senses no expectation in her voice. So he offers her a small smile but does not speak more.

In the space between them, the campfire he’d lit for himself is about to die out. Jessamine notices, and reignites it with an ignis. As it flickers back to life, Astarion is reminded of their earlier escapades at the crypt. 

She’d used fire then too. A few half-hearted spells cast at their undead foe, but nothing compared to the flashy ones the wizard of Waterdeep used. 

Still, she’d be valuable elsewhere, Astarion was sure. She was a pretty little thing (a faculty she ought to make use of before she spouts tentacles), and the way she’d bartered for the gith showed the persuasiveness of a bard. 

Even now, Astarion isn’t fully convinced that magic is her calling.

Jessamine stands. After stoking the fire once more, she mutters something about turning in for the night. She was exhausted; it doesn't take having a tadpole to notice. When Lae’zel declared she’d take first watch, Jessamine didn’t fight it (none of them did).

If he had to guess, she’s just dying to trance. 

“I just remembered something,” Astarion says, before she can return to her bedroll. “A certain show I was invited to but never did get to attend.”

Jessamine stills. Recognition crosses her face.

“You know, I really do hate missing out.”

A blush tints her cheeks, but she doesn't humour it. “Goodnight, Astarion,” she says.

He tutts. Her words are decisive as she walks away, chilly in comparisson to the firelight. But there's hesitation in her step—like she doesn't really want to leave.

As Astarion watches her retreat to the other side of camp, he is greeted by a sense of satisfaction.

He is going to win her so, so easily.

─────

Astarion can read people like a book.

From a glance, he could tell what they wanted from him: his words, his body, his heart. And he always let them have it, or think they had it, at least.

It’s how he’d gotten Shadowheart to tolerate him, despite their first meeting, and Gale to loan him some interesting reading material. Jessamine he already had wrapped around his finger, and Lae’zel—well, she was in a category of her own. The point being, Astarion was strategic, and he’d spent the last day and a half moving his pieces to the best possible spots… 

And where had it gotten him?

Staring down a bloody goblin horde. 

Across their mental connection, his companions decide whether to intervene in the scuffle. The gith is eager for bloodshed, whilst Gale has a penchant for heroics. Shadowheart can be swayed either way, but it seems Jessamine has already made her mind up.

In the corner of his eye, Astarion catches sight of her. She shifts her weight between her feet, eyes darting, blood pumping so strong he can see it swell beneath her skin. She’s bracing herself, he realises. Like she even has a chance.

The thought irritates him.

As they stand before the gates to the grove, the goblins, and the flailing dimwits who led them there, Astarion can see it now: all his efforts to seduce this so-called-sorceress about to implode spectacularly as she decides to play hero.

Mentally, he weighs up his options. How much value does he put on their alliance—on her aptitude at persuasion? It’s a millisecond later that he comes to the conclusion.

She’s not worth the trouble. 

So Astarion prepares some words of encouragement. If he’s lucky, her valiant sacrifice might buy him enough time to skulk away unnoticed.

But when he turns to her, she’s gone.

“Shadowheart—” she calls out from below, right in the midst of it all, “do it now!”

Astarion has no clue what’s happening. But it seems the cleric does. She reacts immediately, and not a moment later, the ground is soaked with rain.

“Perurē,” Jessamine chants. Lightning sparks at her feet and half the goblins go down. In an instant she loots a dagger from one on the ground before slicing at another, unfortunate-enough to still be standing.

Lae’zel joins her in the fray. Their movements are on opposite ends of a spectrum. The gith is a force, and Jessamine, a dance. She’s nimble; there’s hardly any power to her slashes but they’re left-field enough to catch her enemies off guard. Astarion has to give it to her, whilst goblins aren't known for their intelligence, not many would expect a magic-user to come so close.

He certainly wouldn't.

And the way she fights... Astarion doesn’t know how to describe it. There's no hesitation in her movements. No intent, either. He watches as she careens to the side to avoid an attack, before sending the offender flying with a thunderwave. It's decisive—like part of a sequence she already knows.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart seethes.

Hearing his name, Astarion realises he hasn’t moved a muscle since it all began. In his defence, he hadn’t planned on staying this long.

Feeling the cleric's gaze bear into him, he steels himself. Since most of the heavy lifting had already been done, he might as well deal the finishing blow. He nocks his first arrow.

Between them, it's light work. Astarion is diligent in picking goblins off with his bow. They don't notice him, and that's how he prefers it. Lae’zel’s brutish strength is admirable, Jessamine’s gall, laughable, and Gale contributes. Somehow.

Behind them, Shadowheart stands by to tend to any bruises and scratches.

He dares say, it's almost easy.

What Astarion doesn’t foresee is the Blade of Frontiers making gallant, last-minute appearance to soak up the glory. Nor that his parasite would recognises another within him.  

Astarion isn't given time to comprehend what, exactly, that means. Everything happens so fast. In the wake of their victory, a tiefling stationed above the gate waves his arms at them. “Don't just stand there,” he yells, “get inside before any more can show up!”

They listen to him for the time being.

Ushered through the gate, Astarion rejoins his companions. Jessamine's got a few scrapes, but nothing a low-level spell can't fix. Lae'zel is decorated with guts, and the scent clinging to her is dizzying. To his disgust, Astarion finds himself salivating over a mixture of goblin and idiot blood.

He needs to feed soon.

That boar has scarcely satiated him, and being around death so often definitely wasn't ideal for his sanguine hunger. He'll leave camp tonight, he decides. There ought to be something out there for him to sink his teeth into.

That is, if those within the camp don't temp him first.

He puts the thought away from him.

Once safely behind the grove's gates, the Blade of Frontiers wastes no time coming to greet them. Closer now, Astarion feels it instantly; that incessant squirming behind his eye.

Keep quiet for now, the Blade's tadpole speaks to theirs. Then he follows up with a knowing look that could be easily misconstrued as a warning.

“I have to say, those were some moves out there,” praises the Blade—or Wyll, as he prefers.

Gale sputters. “Yes, and for the sake of our wellbeing, they're ones we're not looking to repeat anytime soon.”

Beside him, the gith shakes her head. When she picks at his robe, it's pristine compared to her bloodied armour. “Chk. You did far too little to take credit, wizard.”

Gale falls silent. There's no disputing it; he had been on the backburner during that fight.

Astarion's about to contribute to the verbal thrashing when Wyll intervenes. “My friends, let's save our slights for our foes beyond the gate.”

No one responds to the chiding, but Wyll shucks out another batch of compliments nonetheless. Astarion's not naive enough to think they're for him; anyone can see they're being spoken for the wood elf's benefit.

He’s giving her a look all men know how to give, and Jessamine's either oblivious to it or desensitised enough not to care. “I'm looking for Halsin,” she says, her voice intentionally reaching beyond their conversation.

It's a name she's never uttered before now, but one many in the crowd respond to. A man they'd rescued from the horde shifts in place, before being pulled aside for questioning by the same teifling who brought them here.

Astarion makes no effort to eavesdrop. Whatever politics existed in this overgrown hovel, he couldn't care less. He instead directs his attentions to this new place: the people, their valuables (or lack thereof). Aside from the druid, he doubts there's anything worthwhile here.

He makes that clear, of course. But Jessamine’s already got her sights set on all those wretched refugees. The next thing he knows, they’re being showboated around on a pity tour of their piss-poor grove. 

And Astarion wishes he had just cut and run. 

-

< previous chapter / next chapter >

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello,if of course you wanted and if it was your will, could you write something about Thranduil. About how once, while returning to his Kingdom, he came across a slave trade where he saw an elven woman who was scared and emaciated. Thranduil is moved by this and buys her out, then takes her to the palace, though she is distrustful, appreciates him helping her, and over time I fall in love with him. You don't have to agree with this, but it may have been after Thranduil became King, but also before his son was born. Of course, if you want to write about it, and that would be your will...

Hello! I wrote this event taking place just after the sinking of Beleriand, with Oropher ruling Greenwood the Great and sections of Middle Earth being a bit of a dumpster fire after the War of Wrath. I hope you don’t mind the change. This is part one. Part two should be out in a fortnight, or just after that, and from Thranduil’s POV.

“A Better Future” Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst | Dark

Warnings: Death | Indentured servitude | Indenture Auction | Mentions of slavery | Mentions of sexual slavery | Mistreatment | Examination for purity

Wordcount : 2.3K words

Summary: An elf of the Noldor finds herself on the auction block, facing a dreary future.

A/n: For Lady Githa I drew inspiration from Six of Crows’ Tante Heleen. Most of part one is around reader's backstory, and there is only some dialog towards the end.

Minors DNI

Y/Ns POV

Y/n was still drowsy when she opened her eyes. She had seen herself with her father, listening to him play the harp and sing while her mother sewed away by the fire. There were hot pies and fresh fruit and cheese to nibble on, and her father would leave the harp to indulge in her thirst for tales of the Blessed Realm. Home was safe and warm, and everyone was alive.

Such a beautiful dream. And a dream it would forever be. Y/n threw back the rags that served as coverlets and sat up straight on the pallet that served as a featherbed. Her back ached after a night of fitful sleep. She glanced around the near-empty chamber, which was barely large enough for her. There were no possessions here, and she was not allowed any. Oh, she had been promised new garments, a hot meal, and a bath for this day, but she knew such gifts came with a heavy price. She had moved among the Edain long enough to learn this harsh truth. Y/n looked at the stone ceiling and sighed mournfully. Her fate will be decided today.

My fate was decided a long time ago, in another life, she thought bitterly. Her father had followed the sons of Fëanor and played a part in the second Kinslaying. All that returned of him was news of his disgrace and death, his role in the slaughter, and how he doomed his bloodline along with himself. As for her mother? She no longer wished to live. She followed the path of Miriel before her, lying down in a meadow and letting her fëa peacefully depart from her body. That was how y/n found her—a vessel from which the jewel had spilled. Alone and without friends, she performed the final rights for her mother before departing for safer pastures. Someone was bound to take pity on her and give her shelter; she was certain of it.

That was not to be. Door after door closed to her as soon as she made her name and ties known. Elves did not wish to sully themselves by associating with one bearing the blood of a kinslayer. The Edain did not want to offend wealthy elven patrons. Y/n had been forced to wander further and further east, year after year, alone and frightened, keeping to the outer borders of kingdoms and selling off her family’s possessions one by one in exchange for coin so she could have clothes and food. She watched in horror while smoke rose from distant battlefields, praying the fighting would never reach her. She trembled when she heard strange and terrifying roars. She listened to the songs about how the Valar finally sent their host to deal with a most wretched enemy, how the lands she once ran across as a child had been claimed by the sea. The grief of such a loss—of her home and her family—was so great that it caused her pain powerful enough to nearly cripple her. She bore it all silently. She had no choice, and she did not have a single creature to confide in. Finally, a mortal took pity on her, or so she thought. He offered her a roof over her head and a better future; all she needed to do was agree to his terms.  

Y/n snorted in derision. A better future. If only she had listened to the voice within her, demanding that she refuse. This man would play her false, it said, and place her in a condition with no hope for escape. But y/n was desperate. What coin she had left on her person was all but gone. She was tired of wandering, with no home and no hope and no future to look forward to. She agreed. And felt nothing but regret over the choice she made.

Someone knocked insistently on the door. "I am ready," she called softly. Servants of the house walked in with a healer. Y/n was asked to lay face up and stay still. A flush crept up her throat, but she did as she was told. The healer pulled her rough-spun robe up to her waist and spread her legs, to examine her. Y/n felt a pinch and winced. Her cheeks were ablaze with humiliation. She was told this was necessary. Y/n did not want to think why.

The maids mouthed meaningless comforts while they led her to the baths. Y/n did not believe they meant a word of what they said. They were only loyal to the master of the house and did not spare a thought for her before this. She sat still in a copper tub and was bathed in hot water scented with fragrant oils. One maid carefully washed her hair before picking up a comb to brush the tangles. The other cleaned her feet and nails before scrubbing her back. She chatted incessantly while she went about her tasks. Y/n listened. Anything to distract her from what was about to happen.

"Everyone is talking about you," Eda gossiped, red-cheeked and excited. "Fights have broken out amongst the younger lordlings and..."

"That is quite enough from you, Eda," the other maid, Cwene, cut in harshly. She wanted to end whatever Eda longed to say. Eda bit her lip and nodded anxiously. They both went back to work, silent as the dead.

Y/n shivered and gulped in fright. She knew what was going to happen. She was to be indentured. The man who promised her a brighter future would sell her skills and her, to the one who was willing to pay the most. Those fortunate few who served those with fair hearts had the price of their purchase decrease over time and enjoyed a better life after that. Many more were given a price that only increased as the years passed. They had to toil day after day and year after year, slaves in all but name. Then there were those unfortunate few who faced the bleakest of all futures. Y/n did not allow herself to dwell on those others.

She thought, Perhaps I will be one of the fortunate few, and allowed herself to be helped out of the bath. Perhaps, I will be lucky.

Y/n let the maids lead her to another room and stood still while they toweled her dry and dressed her in silken wisps that made her blush. Then came her gown. It was so soft and smooth that it slipped over her palms like water. She could not remember the last time she wore anything so fine. It made her feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. Eda took her to a nearby stool and asked her to sit. She brushed y/n’s hair until it shone and arranged it in braids and coils. Dabs of sweet-smelling perfume were placed on each wrist and behind each ear. Finally came a pair of sandals crafted out of soft leather. Y/n sighed as if in a dream. The sandals embraced her feet gently, like lovers. Cwene held up a looking glass for her to see her reflection. Y/n was startled. She could not recognize herself.

"She looks like a proper princess now," was all Cwene allowed. Someone else arrived and knocked on the door to the baths. It was the master of the house.

"Take this one to the yard," he rasped to Eda. "The others are growing impatient."

The yard was all freshly cut grass and new flowers, and it was already full of Edain. They gaped at the elf on the raised dais, their looks making her skin crawl. A tall, beautiful woman with hair like spun gold and rubies glinting on her ears, fingers, and throat, climbed up the steps and came to y/n. She looked at her critically. Y/n buried a sob when she saw the rubies. They reminded her of her mother’s hair.

"Beautiful," she whispered, the sweetness of her voice doing little to hide the bitterness lurking beneath. She tilted y/n’s chin with the tip of an elegant walking stick. She wanted to see how her eyes caught the light. Satisfied with what she saw, the woman looked over y/n’s hair and ears, and even her teeth. "Her eyes are like jewels. But tell me, I pray you. Why does she look so gaunt and melancholy? Has she not been fed well?"

It was not said out of kindness. There was none in the lady’s hardened gray eyes. Y/n lowered her gaze and closed her own, as was expected. She did not say that she was given meager scraps because the master of the house did not wish to waste more coin than he already had on her. It could only go badly for her if she did.

"She has," Y/n’s master replied hastily. He crept up to her and dug his fingers into her arm, warning her to keep quiet. Y/n bit her tongue to stop herself from making a sound. "And since the lords that frequent The Blue Rose expect women fit for a king," he added, "This one will do nicely after a good meal, yes?"

"Indeed," the woman conceded, and looked y/n over again. She grabbed y/n's cheek hard, her nails digging into the skin. "Cry if you must," she whispered harshly when y/n, trapped and unable to move, whimpered. "Tear out your hair. I would too if I was in your place. But know this, elf. When the dust clears, you will be mine."

The woman turned to face y/n's master. "Your herald tells me she is untouched."

"Aye, lady Githa," came the reply. "The healer assured me of this."

"This truly is a most blessed day." Githa finally let go and laughed merrily. Y/n fell ill at the sound and found herself overcome with the shivers, but she welcomed the release from Githa's presence. She knew of The Blue Rose. Githa ruled it with an iron fist and was known to be a cruel mistress. The Blue, as it was more commonly known, welcomed the coin of high-born edain, some with tastes that could make one's stomach turn. At least, that was what the maids said. The women sent there never earned their freedom. Some, she had heard through careless chatter, did not even make it out alive. Y/n wanted to flee, to run somewhere no one knew of, and to hide. Since she could not, since she was already trapped, she prayed, hoping against all hope that she would not have to spend the rest of her days toiling on her back.

A herald came forth and called out her name and ties. His words were met with boisterous cheers. "She was born in the four hundred and fiftieth year of the first age," he continued, "and is skilled in both the high harp and the lute. The lady is also fluent in both Quenya and Sindarin. Her mother and father hailed from the Blessed Realm. She is meek and obedient, perfect for any household. And she is untouched. We have been assured of this. One such as her will not grace this dais again."  

Loud applause rang out around the yard. Y/n’s master grabbed her arm so hard that it hurt. She was dragged to the center of the block and made to stand straight. The herald would call out a price. Someone would offer more. Y/n listened with growing dread as her purchase price rose higher and higher. The cries soon reached a fevered frenzy that shocked her. She heard the unmistakably musical sound of Githa, the woman who looked her over like she was nothing more than a prize horse to be broken in, whatever means necessary. Githa had coin. From the way she carried on, it was plain she had plenty. If someone shouted a price, she would go higher. One by one, those others would give their excuses and stop. Y/n heard names being called out. Only six remained. Githa was one of the six. Fear coiled within her belly like a snake.

How could you do this to me, father? She wanted to cry. How could you and mother doom me to such a fate?

Y/n heard more voices. Word had already reached the marketplace and spread like a forest fire. Many poured into the yard and joined the throng. They wanted to watch. Someone shouted out ribald jests. Lady Githa replied with equal humor. The others laughed. Y/n kept her eyes closed even as her blood ran cold. She pretended not to hear. Doom coiled itself around her like a chain so heavy she could almost feel it tightening over her chest, squeezing the very air out of her. 

The herald called out names once again. Only two remained, he reminded the rest, but he invited everyone to indulge in the food and wine being served. Y/n could taste the bile at the back of her throat. Githa shouted another offer. 

"Six thousand gold pieces!" The herald declared and received a roar of approval. "And we still carry on!"

The crowd encouraged Lady Githa and her rival, urging them to continue. Grief gathered around y/n’s heart like bees. There was no escaping her fate now. No one was coming to save her. Tears welled up in her eyes and broke free. Someone laughed.  

"Twenty thousand gold pieces!" A deep voice boomed from behind the crowd. The yard went so quiet that y/n swore she would have heard a pin drop. "And an end to this wretched spectacle!"

Y/n heard the creak of floorboards. The herald went to talk with his masters. They were beside her, whispering to each other. Again, she pretended not to hear. 

"We cannot deny them," one said.

"That one will slaughter all of us if we refuse," another said. "Or do worse."

"Aye," muttered a third. "But we must give Lady Githa the opportunity to make her excuses and bow out. She may not come near us again otherwise. Continue with the sale."

"Tw-twenty thousand!" The herald returned and announced the figure. They were going to continue. "We have twenty thousand! Do either of you wish to go higher?" 

Moments passed. Y/n listened, thinking Lady Githa would call out a higher price and carry on. 

"He can have her!" Githa cried after speaking with her rival. She sounded less than pleased. "We are finished!"

"Very well!" The Herald agreed. "Twenty thousand gold! Going once, going twice, sold! To… to the crown prince of Gr-greenwood the Great!"

The herald sounded terrified. The crown prince of Greenwood the Great, he had declared. Y/n had heard of this kingdom and how its king and his people survived the sack of Doriath. In all her wanderings, she kept away from this realm, no matter how tired or weak or hungry she was. She knew she would find no welcome there. 

Y/n fearfully opened her eyes, certain the prince only brought her to punish her for the sins committed by her kin.  

Tags: @deadlymistletoe

[charliespringsleftconverse]

Sweet Love Beneath The Christmas Tree - Chapter Three

Word Count: 3135 | Read on AO3

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Write's Notes: I want you to know that I had no idea what I was doing in this chapter. I’m an avid smut reader but I had never written smut myself for the consumption of others so I gave this chapter my all! 😂 Let’s just say, this chapter has no plot! I was even editing this TODAY and ended up adding even more to it because I’m a menace to society 😂 Anyway, ENJOYYYY @thevalkyriesshadow @acotargiftexchange

Warnings: This three-chapter story contains mature content such as smut in the third chapter. Reader discretion is advised. Age advisory 18+

Gwyn waltzed her way back to the sofa, playfully twirling and dancing in her peony-colored dress until she reached the living room, where she dropped next to Azriel, who was turning on the closed captions on the television. If there was one thing Azriel was really good at, it was being attentive to others' needs—definitely not his own, considering he should have paid more attention to his landing earlier when jumping off the roof. Not his smartest move. That aside, Azriel was good about paying attention to the small things those around him preferred, especially Gwyn. She was his other half, and it went without saying that Azriel was head over heels for her. 

To Azriel, Gwyn wasn’t sunshine or daisies, she was like a droplet of rain. She was gentle to the touch and refreshing to the taste, and by gods was that taste addicting. A smile painted the corner of his lips as she nestled on the sofa. He knew for certain that Gwyn couldn’t watch a single show or movie without the closed captions or subtitles on. She’d mentioned to him once when they first started seeing each other that she liked knowing what the background characters were saying or doing as the captions clued the viewer in on tiny, hidden secrets one wouldn’t traditionally catch by simply listening. A theory that he tested to be true and had indulged her since. Hence, why he was making sure their movie included captions. 

“Cookies are in the oven so I am ready when you are,” chirped Gwyn. Tugging on a soft blanket from the basket near the sofa, she wrapped them both in it. It was a smooth plush white blanket with blue snowflakes big enough for two. With cold winter breeze constantly blowing through the tall trees and the ongoing temperature drops, the cabin was never short of coverings to keep warm. 

The screen flicked at the click of a button and the movie started. Within a couple of minutes, they found themselves enjoying cookies and more hot cocoa by the fire. Once the sun kissed the mountain peaks goodnight, the moon stretched above the trees like a child ready to play peaking through the snowy trunks. Night quickly fell within half an hour into the film. Gwyn and Azriel had been too entranced to notice the bright moonlight shining through the window into the living room. The magic of Christmas unfolding before their eyes had captivated them with elves living at the North Pole, Santa prepping for his big day, and talking reindeer with peculiar personalities. They were too entranced by the magic of their childhood, and a chance to believe in it all again for just a moment. 

After taking another sip from his sleigh-shaped festive mug, Azriel glanced over at Gwyn. “I have to confess. When I was younger, like seven years old. I had a huge crush on the girl elf who brought Santa his hot chocolate.”

Gwyn chuckled. “That’s fair. She’s adorable and I can see the appeal for seven-year-old you.” There wasn’t a single person in Gwyn’s life who hadn’t developed a crush on an actor or the actor's portrayal of a certain character. Like that one time Gwyn had fallen in love with Kylo Ren from Star Wars and proceeded to watch every film with Adam Driver in it only to discover she wasn’t in love with the actor, just their portrayal of a specific character. 

Taking a sip from her hot cocoa, Gwyn snuggled closer to Azriel. “I also had a crush on one of the boys in the movie too, you know?”

“Tim Allen as Santa?” Azriel smirked and glanced down at his own Santa suit. There was always a bit of fun in teasing Gwyn. Her freckles would emphasize when her cheeks turned red which made him want to kiss every single one across her face. 

Gwyn laughed. “No!”

“What, Santa doesn’t do it for you? C’mon, the man, the myth, the legend!” Azriel pointed at the screen. It was perfect timing as a fully bearded man in a red suit appeared on screen. 

“Why would little me have a crush on Santa?!” Gwyn nudged him while laughing. Reaching over the end of the sofa, she put her hot cocoa down. 

“Don’t you? I mean,” Azriel gestured at himself.

“I mean, I certainly like my Santa.” Gwyn sat on her knees facing him. “But that’s different.”

“Well, I certainly like my elf.” Azriel inched closer, not close enough for what he wanted to do but enough to give Gwyn the opening. To give her the chance to close the gap. Gwyn bit her lip in an attempt to contain herself, but her smile still pushed through. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink.

No matter how long they had been together, Azriel still made Gwyn feel a certain type of way. 

There was a tingling sensation in her chest like the soft tickle from a feather or the gentle caress of a butterflies wings. Inching closer, Gwyn dared to play the game.“Do you, Santa?” 

They were practically sharing one breath now. Azriel hummed, a sound that sent an electrical current down to Gwyn’s toes. 

“Too bad Santa’s injured,” said Gwyn as she pulled away. They both could play at this little game but she wanted to take the lead. She wanted him in the palm of her hand. She wanted him to beg for it. If he pleaded her name, Gwyn would know immediately that Azriel was waving a white flag—surrendering. The man was always down bad for her, but when she took charge, Azriel was nothing but putty in her hands. Sitting back on her knees, Gwyn pretended to look interested in the film once again. Luckily, this was a holiday classic; Gwyn could practically recite some scenes from memory. In all honesty, Gwyn was much more invested in this little game than in the movie but she wouldn’t let him in on that yet.

“Gwyn.”

Oh? There was a tingling feeling that buzzed from her chest, down her spine, to her toes when he said her name. Azriel’s eyes sparkled with more than just a challenge. It wasn’t often he showed his cards early but Gwyn appreciated it all the same. Check. There was nothing she enjoyed more than teasing him. They were a match made in heaven in that way. 

Slowly, inching toward him, Gwyn put her fingers in his soft raven hair and kissed him. She made sure to drag her motions out, nice and slow. Very slow. Her lips moved up and down against Azriel’s passionately, he tasted like peppermint and chocolate, with her fingers slowly running through his hair. After a full minute, Gwyn pulled back first. She opened her eyes, glanced down at his pants, and then back up to quite the achievement. Check.

“Gwyneth Berdara,” Azriel whispered, eyes closed. “You will be the death of me.”

Checkmate.

She smiled against his lips as he pulled her in again by the neck, desire coursing through. Gwyn couldn’t help but moan this time against Azriel’s mouth when he bit her bottom lip. Oh, yes. Gwyn thought she could hold back but she wanted him just as much—needed him just as much. Something ignited inside of her like sparklers on New Year's. Warmth flooded her chest, her cheeks, and down her body. Pushing Azriel back against the sofa, Gwyn climbed over him and straddled his lap. Azriel’s hands quickly found purchase on her hips and lower back. Gwyn began shifting her hips rubbing herself against him, creating friction between their two bodies to soothe the aching feeling between her legs. This felt like more than just some normal kiss, it was electrifying. It always was for Gwyn and she could feel his hardness rubbing against where she wanted him most. When their kiss broke, Gwyn let out a ragged breath and allowed herself to enjoy the feather-light trails his mouth left down her neck. 

Azriel took off her belt, unbuttoned her dress, and tugged at the dress opening exposing her neck and collarbone. There, he trailed kisses that graduated into long strokes of his lips up and down licking her body. Gwyn wanted more. She wanted him against her neck, his mouth on her breast, and his fingers rubbing her in all the right places. Gods, she wanted him inside of her. Not yet. Not until she had her fun.

Unbuttoning her dress, Azriel was quick to pull her bra down and her breasts up so he could taste her. That had her moaning. “Just like that,” Gwyn sighed.

Both of her hands found purchase in his hair and tugged to bring him closer. He sucked against her chest capturing her nipple. He made sure to give her breasts the attention they needed, slowly and passionately. One of Gwyn’s hands cradled Azriel’s head exactly where he was while the other traveled between their bodies. She could feel the wetness accumulating between her legs. Gwyn reached through his pants and stroked against his length. Azriel groaned and gently scraped his teeth against her nipple. She wanted him desperately but she wasn’t done having her fun. Sighing against his sturdy frame, Gwyn murmured, “I want you.”

Breathly against his ear, she continued. “I want to take you in my mouth.” Gwyn felt his body shiver and his length twitch against her palm. 

Azriel groaned into her breasts, teeth scraping deliciously against her sensitive peaks.

Standing, Gwyn let her dress fall to the ground and unhooked her bra while Azriel unbuckled himself. Once comfortably on her knees, Gwyn did the rest. She glanced up at those glittering brown eyes whose attention was all on her. Azriel’s eyes were wholly on Gwyn’s, their breathing ragged, granting her permission to do what she wanted to him. She wanted his eyes on her when she took him in her mouth. She wanted to see the look on his face when she did. She wanted to see him lose control at the feel of her touch. For now, her hands stroked him in preparation.

“You look good on your knees, Berdara.”

Bringing herself closer, Gwyn smiled to herself before she kissed the tip of his length causing it to twitch in her hands.  She took her time kissing him down and then back up. The motion sent a shudder down Azriel’s back. Gwyn then placed her lips back on the tip and enveloped him in her mouth. Azriel moaned gripping the sofa. Meanwhile, Gwyn took her time taking him inch by inch, until she was all the way down before coming back up. Azriel couldn’t stop himself from gathering her hair to marvel at Gwyn, her mouth, and the way her breasts moved as she took down his full length.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” Azriel gripped her hair tighter trying his best to not guide her himself or lose control. Even though he was certainly close to losing it.

Gwyn took the comment as an opening to hollow her cheeks and start a sucking motion. This had Azriel breathing harder in seconds and speaking in tongues. At this moment, her mouth was his center of gravity and she was a force to be reckoned with. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” said Azriel. The first word dragged out like a song.

“Begging already?”

Azriel chuckled.

“My turn,” answered Azriel, a shift in his voice. Shuffling out of his pants, he patted the sofa to which Gwyn obliged. Once Gwyn took her seat, it was Azriel who was on his knees. He reached up to kiss her and then sat back. With eyes on hers, he took off whatever remaining clothes she had and tossed them to the side. Azriel began placing two initial kisses, one on each of her knees before gently using both hands to spread her open and admire what he needed on display. He kissed his way closer, down her thighs, until he reached his destination. 

“You're soaking wet for me, baby.” Azriel had never been one for dirty talk but after learning that it made Gwyn’s body respond a certain way, well, he deemed it critical since then. As much as he wanted to dismiss the books that Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta constantly giggled about, there was something to be learned from them. Azriel had read a couple, purely to understand what was so great about those ‘smutty books’. It was in moments like this that he was grateful for the lessons that literature could teach. And so Azriel brought his mouth closer and gently began to stroke her center. Intuitively, her body pushed him closer to where she needed him, her legs voluntarily spreading for him. 

“So responsive.” Azriel chuckled. 

Licking her in upward motions, he took his time between her legs. Gwyn began to sing the tune to his favorite song with gasps and sighs in different pitches. He harmonized to the melody humming while he worked in between her legs. A proud composer of his musical work. After several minutes of Gwyn shifting and quietly calling for him, Azriel looked up at her with dark eyes seeking permission as he placed two fingers at her entrance. Gwyn nodded breathlessly—desperately. Please, her eyes seemed to plead. 

“I need a verbal,” said Azriel.

“Yes,” Gwyn half whispered.

As he provided his full attention to the task, Azriel pushed two fingers inside of her and quickly found his favorite spot. The Ah spot, named after his favorite sound that Gwyn made. Stroking slowly inside of her, Azriel began to build a pattern with his mouth and fingers. Gwyn couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her. Her head pressed further back into the sofa and her hands dug into Azriel’s hair. 

“Don't stop. Please, don't stop.” 

“Begging already?” Azriel teased.

Gwyn’s moans turned louder as she felt her arousal continuing to build inside of her. She only hoped her earlier teasing didn’t come to bite her in the ass right now. She wouldn’t be able to take it if Azriel decided to use this moment to completely stop. 

“Just, like that, oh… god.” Gwyn’s legs began to shake as her body closed in on Azriel’s fingers. She could feel herself dancing and falling over the precipice and she couldn’t have him stop. With a hand outstretched on Azriel’s head, she held him in place, Gwyn’s other hand reached toward her breast, squeezing. Azriel made sure to not leave the other without equal care and reached for her other breast. Gwyn’s eyes shut as she reveled in the blissful feeling, a growing crescendo that soon toppled over. 

Without hesitation, Gwyn begged for more. “I need you, Azriel.”

Azriel was up and ready but Gwyn placed a hand on his chest and uttered one word. “Sofa.”

Right, my foot. Understanding what she meant, Azriel sat back on the sofa allowing Gwyn to straddle him. Azriel pulled off his shirt, tossed it across the room, and captured Gwyn’s face with both hands pulling her in for a kiss. Pushing her chest against his, Gwyn lined up his length before slowly sinking down inch by inch until she was fully seated. Their lips parted as they moaned at the delicious feeling. 

“I love that sound you make,” said Azriel. 

Gwyn felt her body respond to the comment.

“I'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that, sweetheart.” Azirel placed his forehead against hers.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “You have that effect on me.”

Azriel chuckled and kissed her deeper. 

Gwyn began to ride him slowly allowing them to explore each other. Their kisses evolved from sweet passion to desperate desire and need. As desire grew, so did Gwyn’s pace. Their touches grew hungrier and more assertive. One of Azriel’s hands played with Gwyn’s breast, fingertips twisting her nipple slightly while the other was sure to hold her closer by the waist. Meanwhile, Gwyn’s hands found purchase on his chest and around his neck. The room grew heavier as it filled with heavy breathing, the sound of skin-on-skin contact, and the melody their moans created in each other's mouths.

“Gwyn,” Azriel begged. He was close but he couldn’t let go without her. 

“Yes.” One word was all she said.

Azriel brought one of his hands in between them and stimulated Gwyn where she was most sensitive. He rubbed against her bundle of nerves and immediately felt a shift. Azriel felt Gwyn catch her breath and her body tense in anticipation. Her entire body pressed closer to him but she never stopped moving and neither did he as he thrusted back into her, meeting her stroke for stroke. 

“Let go, sweetheart,” said Azriel.

They were both flushed, skin glistening but neither stopping. One more push and pull and they were on what felt like an infinite high that would never descend. The moment Azriel felt Gwyn’s body fully tense above him, his own release followed. She clung to him desperately even after the last roll of her hips, catching her breath but also as she tried to find a way to come back to her body. They stayed there, catching their breath, not moving for a while. Every time they touched like this, it was electrical and like something out of a movie or a book. Gwyn couldn’t believe that touching Azriel felt like this every time, like she belonged to him as he did to her. She hoped they never grew out of this craving desire. Catching her breath, realization dawned on Gwyn.

“We can’t be doing this again with a baby in the house,” said Gwyn, her eyes wide. 

Oh my god. The one time we hook up on the sofa. Gwyn couldn’t believe that, of course, the one time there was a baby in the house was the moment that they decided to get wild in a common area. This would have felt normal had any of the other couples done it but this was out of the ordinary for them. Azriel and Gwyn tended to keep to themselves in their room. This… this was new.

Azriel let out a full belly laugh. “They could walk in here at any moment, and that’s what you’re worried about?” 

Gwyn slapped Azriel across the chest. As much as she wanted to be mad at him, she was also a contributor. She could only hope that the village town center was sufficiently interesting enough on Christmas Eve to give the two of them more time to clean up.

“C’mon, before anyone comes knocking through that door and we have to explain why we’re naked in the living room.” Gwyn stood from the sofa and began gathering her clothes and throwing them in the laundry room. 

“I don’t think any explanation is needed.”

“Azriel!”