#now I know of like two plants I can get to and I planted both of them >:(

[mari-writes]

“Um, Viktor, I think you’ve had enough.”

Jayce nervously taps his friend on the shoulder. The man is collapsed across the bar top, a glass filled with some sort of cocktail clutched in one hand.

“Hmm,” Viktor slumps further, only turning his head to face him. “Oh! Jayce. Hello.” A dreamy smile pulls at his lips. He blinks slowly. 

He’s so drunk. Jayce rolls his eyes fondly. “Yeah, it’s me.” He prods him again. “Cmon, buddy. We should go.”

“No!” Viktor sits up so fast he nearly elbows Jayce in the stomach. “I’m not finished!” The man holds up his drink. It catches the light, sparkling a bit with some sort of edible glitter. His eyes shine with wonder, as if he were witnessing another Hextech miracle.

“Bottoms up!” Viktor cries, and proceeds to chug the rest. Jayce catches himself starting at the long, graceful column of Viktor’s neck, at how his throat works to down the drink. And when he finishes—the way he gasps, licks his lips. Heat sizzles in Jayce’s gut.

That’s been been happening a lot lately: The lingering glances at Viktor’s face and body, and the immediate guilt that follows. Jayce shouldn’t be looking at or feeling for his partner this way. But he can’t help it.

“Woah!” Jayce barely has time to react as Viktor slides off his stool, landing hard on the ground. His legs buckle slightly and he wobbles. “Careful!” Jayce hurries to steady him by the elbows. “Where’s your crutch?” When Viktor shrugs, he sighs, scanning the area until he spots it leaning against the end of the bar.

“All right. Let’s get you back to your room.”

It’s a struggle. A drunk Viktor is even more stubborn than a sober one. He insists he can hobble himself back to his room, only relenting once he nearly face-plants into a foliage display. His clothes are getting rumpled, shirt half-untucked from his slacks, tie in disarray. 

Jayce ends up supporting the majority of his friend’s weight, with Viktor’s arm around his shoulders. Jayce can’t help but notice how small the man’s waist feels under his palm. His fingers twitch.

“You were only at the gala for a couple of hours,” Jayce notes, if only to distract himself. “You didn’t have that many drinks, did you? You’re such a lightweight.”

Viktor snorts. “I am not.”

“Oh really? Who’s the guy being carried out of the party right now?”

At that, Viktor halts in place and turns toward him. “Oh, Jayce,” he smirks. “I’m almost certain I’ve consumed more substances in my life than you.” His voice is breathy. Teasing. Jayce pouts. Viktor’s probably right, but he’s not sure he should be proud of that fact.

“Viktor,” he warns, but that only seems to amuse his friend further. He leans in, so close that Jayce can easily count the man’s lashes. His eyes are drawn to those two lovely moles—on his sharp cheekbone, above his upper lip. Jayce wants to trace from one to the other with his—

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Jayce nearly chokes on his own spit. He blinks, leaning back to stare at Viktor with wide eyes. He feels his jaw drop. “V-Viktor!” He stammers, aghast at both his friend’s words and his own body’s reaction to them. Everything is suddenly so, so warm, from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes.

Neither of them say anything for a few moments. They just stand there, at an impasse, with Viktor grinning slyly and Jayce sputtering like a moron. A strange energy swirls between them, as if they’re back in their lab experimenting. But there’s no magic here. Or electricity. It’s just them.

“Hmm,” Viktor finally breaks the silence, leaning back. He nods once. “I thought so.” He starts walking again, forcing Jayce to follow.

“You know what?” Jayce snaps, finally finding his words. He hefts his friend up higher, supporting him a bit more. “If you’re so used to abusing alcohol, maybe I should just leave you in this hallway to fend for yourself.”

“Hey!” Viktor’s voice cracks slightly. “Be nice to me! I’m disabled!”

“That’s no excuse for being a drunk idiot.”

At that, Viktor throws his head back and releases a booming laugh. It’s loud, louder than Jayce has ever heard his friend laugh, shaking the man’s entire body. His eyes are squeezed shut, mouth wide in unabashed joy.

Jayce is unable to look away. He knows he must be wearing the most besotted, far-gone look on his face right now, but he can’t bring himself to care. This man is incredible. Beautiful. Absolutely perfect. How lucky is Jayce, to have him as his partner.

As they trek the final distance, Viktor’s ramblings wane. He’s half asleep by the time they make it to his room. Jayce helps him to his bed, laying him down as gently as possible and bending down to remove the other man’s shoes.

“Jayce.”

Glancing up, he sees his friend’s fiery gaze fixed on him. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Jayce smiles softly. “Anytime, Viktor.” Hands on hips, he raises one eyebrow at his friend. “Take care of yourself, okay? And don’t come crying to me tomorrow if you’re hungover.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Jayce chuckles as he quietly sees himself out. “Good night, Viktor.”

//

My very first jayvick fic! 🤗 It was inspired by this amazing artwork on BlueSky! I love these two so much and wanted to write a lighthearted little story after such a heartbreaking finale 😭 PLEASE, if you enjoyed, comment and share! I’m usually a Haikyuu writer so any promotion for this is helpful. 🙏❤️ Thanks!

[castdust]

big baby.

✩ pairing : daniela avanzini x 7th-member!reader

✩ about : Y/N teaching Daniela how to ice skate

✩ genre : fluff

✩ warning: none

✩ a/n : this is kinda based on a true story :p | 975 words

♫ playing : santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter

It was the first week of Katseye’s Christmas break and the girls had been planning and preparing for their upcoming trip back to their hometowns except for Y/N and Daniela. The two of them had already visited their families earlier of the week.

So it was just going to be the two of them inside the dorm room, but luckily Y/N already had plans for them so that they wouldn’t be that bored for the upcoming holiday.

Some activities may Daniela not like, just like they’re about to be doing now.

The rink was alive with the sounds of laughter, the scrape of blades against ice, and the occasional thud of someone losing their balance. Daniela clutched Y/N’s arm tightly as they moved, her knees wobbling riskily.

“I swear, Y/N, if you let me fall, I will haunt you,” she muttered, half-joking but with genuine panic in her voice.

Y/N laughed, her voice warm and teasing. “Relax, Dani. I’ve got you. Trust me.”

Daniela shot her a look. “That’s what you said five minutes ago, and I nearly face-planted.”

“You didn’t, though,” Y/N said with a grin. “Because I caught you. Always do.”

That shut Daniela up—though it wasn’t out of trust. It was the way Y/N said it, with this quiet confidence that sent a strange flutter through her chest.

After a few more shaky laps around the rink, Daniela began to relax slightly. “Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad,” she admitted, a smile tugging at her lips.

“See? Told you,” Y/N said proudly, skating backward in front of her like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Show-off,” Daniela muttered, but there was no heat in it.

Feeling emboldened, Y/N grinned mischievously. “Alright, you’re ready for the advanced stuff. Hop on my back.”

Daniela froze. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Y/N asked, turning and kneeling slightly.

“Yes,” Daniela said flatly, but Y/N just wiggled her eyebrows in response.

With a reluctant sigh, Daniela carefully climbed onto Y/N’s back, her arms wrapping around Y/N’s shoulders. “If you drop me, Y/N…”

“You’ve already threatened to haunt me once tonight,” Y/N said, laughing. “I get it, Dani. I’ve got you.”

They glided across the ice, Y/N surprisingly steady even with Daniela clinging to her. For a moment, it was perfect—Y/N’s laughter filling the air, Daniela’s nervous giggles mixing in.

But then, it happened.

Daniela shifted slightly, trying to adjust her grip. It threw off their balance, and Y/N’s skate caught a rough patch of ice. The world tilted, and in the next instant, both of them were tumbling down.

Y/N twisted instinctively, her arms wrapping around Daniela as they hit the ice.

“Oof!” Daniela landed softly against Y/N’s chest, her heart racing. “Are you okay?!”

Y/N winced, her face scrunching up in pain. “Yeah, yeah. Just… my arm.”

Daniela scrambled to her feet, panic flickering in her eyes. “Oh my God, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I—”

“Relax, Dani,” Y/N said through gritted teeth, cradling her arm. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine!” Daniela shot back, kneeling beside her. “Come on, let’s get you off the ice.”

Once they were seated on a nearby bench, Daniela inspected Y/N’s arm with the intensity of a medic on a battlefield. “You’re not bleeding, but I think you might’ve sprained it.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Y/N said, though the way she winced as Daniela gently prodded her arm suggested otherwise.

“You’re such a liar,” Daniela muttered. She grabbed a nearby towel, wrapping it around Y/N’s arm for makeshift support.

Y/N groaned. “This is unnecessary.”

Daniela shot her a glare. “You caught me when I fell. You hurt your arm because of me. The least I can do is take care of you.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the softness in Daniela’s voice. She looked down, her cheeks tinting pink. “It’s not your fault, Dani. I wanted to catch you. I’d do it again.”

Daniela paused, her hands stilling. There was something in the way Y/N said it—so genuine, so vulnerable.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t,” Y/N interrupted, her tone lighter now, though her ears were bright red. “If you’re about to get all sappy on me, I’ll start charging for lessons.”

Daniela rolled her eyes, the moment broken but her chest still warm. “You’re the worst,” she said, but the words were soft, almost affectionate.

As she adjusted the makeshift sling around Y/N’s arm, Y/N let out a dramatic whimper.

“Oh, come on,” Daniela said, exasperated. “It’s not that bad.”

“It hurts!” Y/N protested, pouting.

“You are such a big baby,” Daniela said, laughing despite herself.

“Excuse me, I saved your life!”

“You saved me from a mild tumble,” Daniela corrected, shaking her head. “And now you’re acting like you broke your arm.”

Y/N gave her a pointed look. “It feels broken.”

Daniela smirked, leaning closer. “Then maybe I should just leave you here to defend for yourself, huh?”

“Rude,” Y/N muttered, though her lips quirked up in a smile.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the teasing fading into something quieter, something that made Daniela’s heart race all over again.

“Thanks,” Y/N said softly, her gaze steady. “For taking care of me.”

Daniela felt her cheeks heat up. She looked away, muttering, “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta deal with you.”

Y/N chuckled, but the sound was warm, almost tender.

As they left the rink that night, Y/N still cradling her arm and Daniela still scolding her for being dramatic, the air between them felt different. Lighter, but also heavier—like something unspoken had passed between them.

And maybe, just maybe, Daniela didn’t mind falling after all.

[sofa-king-lame]

Snippet Sunday

My Christmas fic still tentatively titled 'Nothing for Christmas' is done! It will be uploaded sometime tomorrow, but for now here is a snippet:

--

“You cooked. I clean,” Eddie orders, pointing a finger at Buck who raises his hands in surrender. Eddie only manages to get four of the seven containers into the fridge before there’s a knock at the door. ‘Who the fuck drops by unannounced on Christmas Day,’ Eddie thinks to himself, irritated. Well, except for Buck. But his presence never really counts as being unannounced, not when he has a key. 

“Want me to get that?” Buck calls out. He’s closer, but Eddie thinks he’d probably end up inviting whoever it is in. 

“I got it,” Eddie sighs. Whoever it is will be getting a perfectly polite greeting and request to kindly fuck off. He’s going to take whatever time he can with Buck before he moves. Eddie plasters his best ‘I was raised to be polite but you are definitely not welcome here’ smile on his face and opens the door to greet - 

“Hi Dad,” Christopher says quietly from his spot in Eddie’s fucking front yard. 

“Christopher?” Eddie whispers in disbelief. Abuela is next to him, holding a backpack and grinning. 

“Merry Christmas,” Abuela says, gently nudging Chris forwards towards his father. 

“Chris, oh my god,” Eddie croaks, crouching in front of him. He doesn’t have to go down as far as he did last time they saw each other. Eddie tries not to think too hard about how much time they've lost. 

“I’m ready to come home now,” Chris murmurs, crashing into Eddie. They hold each other tight, and by the time they pull apart they’re both crying. 

“How did you – how?” Eddie asks, voice hoarse and breaking. 

“Buck called,” Abuela chimes in, stepping forward to give Eddie a hug of her own. She plants two firm kisses on his cheeks and oh Eddie has missed her so much. Eddie whips around to face Buck, who is standing behind him smiling sheepishly. 

“I pulled a few strings,” he admits. “Merry Christmas, Eddie.” 

--

Tags under the cut. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from my tag list!

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@oddgreyhound @namesnamesandmorenames

[felassan]

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 2. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Three]

The dev team really wanted to deliver on Emmrich's romance [source]

Sylvia Feketekuty has now left BioWare so there are likely some things she can't answer now "just because I can't look them up with certainty anymore" [source]

When Emmrich is first introduced, he has a skull helmet. Why does it never ever appear for the next 40-100 hours? "The helmet does indeed look wicked! I believe it actually shows up on his shelf in the Lighthouse eventually. (If I had been a smarter writer I would've asked if we could have it appear again, that one's on me.)" [source]

User: "In another post you mentioned shops in Nevarra City near the Necropolis. How far IS Nevarra City itself is from the Necropolis? Do only senior MWs get to go?" / Sylvia: "I'm reluctant to say what the distance is since I never defined it in game so it's Unknown™. But I imagine they can either walk or take a carriage, depending. Also I never imagined junior MWers are forbidden from going into town or such. It could be they have set hours and times where they're allowed. But got to get all those chores done first..." [source, two]

On the DA:I goat scene ([link]) - "The GOAT! God bless them, that was a delight." [source]

Brian J. Audette, on [this thread] - ""Better late than never" addendum to this thread. I just noticed that Isle of the Gods' writer Sylvia is on here now and I'd be remiss not to tag her in this thread. I can't say enough wonderful things about having worked with Sylvia on this mission." [source] / Sylvia: "Thanks Brian! You tackled an absolutely jam-packed mission with aplomb." [source]

Jo Berry: "Thank you for everything and everything else, on both Veilguard and Inquisition. Sunlight on your road, wherever it goes." [source] / Sylvia: "Thank YOU for all your writing Jo. Seriously, you were a godsend on Veilguard and DAI both." [source]

Trick Weekes: "It's been fantastic working with you, Sylvia, and I know you're going to crush it with whatever you do next. Thank you for finally letting me make you "the person who has to do journals so Trick doesn't" on one of our projects." [source] / Sylvia: "Thank you Trick! I'll miss working with you. It was an honour to finally be given the awesome responsibility of the journal system that still haunts my dreams." [source]

John Epler: "sylvia did you see i told the world Emmrich sleeps standing up like a horse" [source] / Sylvia: "It's days later but: yes. Yes I did." [source]

User: "As someone who also has a truly debilitating fear of death, Emmrich is so special to me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it represented in such a clear and concise way." / Sylvia: "Thanks, definitely felt that fear myself. I really wanted to express it clearly and was hoping would resonate with others." [source]

User: "Do you have any thoughts or opinions on what nickname Emmrich might have gotten from Varric if he'd ever gotten one?" / Sylvia: "Oh man that's a good question, but ultimately since I didn't write Varric, that must remain a mystery. Nicknames can only be bestowed. ("Bones" like someone suggested below is funny though.)" [source]

User: "If Emmrich's hobby is alchemy/plants, Vorgoth's is art, and Audric's is architecture... what's Myrna's? (Next to Emmrich, she's my favorite Watcher - sorry Vorgoth!)" / Sylvia: "Myrna has a one off line, you may not have heard it yet, where she talks to Vorgoth about getting tickets to the Sword of Drakon.* She enjoys a night out at the theater, whether it's a play or an opera. *(I think that's the play I named, I hope I'm recalling my own line haha.) It's a bit indulgent of me, but I chose Sword of Drakon because it was one of the plays I made up for a series of codices in DAI about Orlesian theater. I had a lot of fun with these and wanted to give them life once more. [link]" [source, two]

User: "During Rook’s disappearance in the prison, how did Emmrich react? Considering their intense romance, did he fall into depression, or did he show a more vulnerable side? Could his fear of death have influenced the situation? In the immortal romance💀, Emmrich promises that nothing will separate them, not in this world or any other. How likely is that? Would he go to great lengths for Rook, even crossing boundaries? Or, at some point, would he accept Rook's death?" / Sylvia: "1) Very strongly! I think it's a bit more interesting if I leave details to your imaginations, but Emmrich feels things deeply and probably had some sleepless nights. 2) So this I can't say much on even though it's a juicy topic. The truth is, I wouldn't even know unless I was actually sitting down to write it. Again, Emmrich feels things very passionately, but this is the kind of scenario where I might want the player's choices to have an effect." [source, two]

User: "Any chance that color scheme [of Emmrich's coat] was based off the corpse flower?" / Sylvia: "I couldn't find anything on the colour scheme and the corpse flower. Afraid this one's a mystery to me." [source]

User: "I'm really curious if there's a Nevarrese language? We have Orlesian, Antivan, Tevene, Qunlat..." / Sylvia: "I wondered that myself, especially given its ancient ties with Tevinter and also Orlais which would certainly have affected the languages of power and influence. Could also have roots with the Planasene. We never talked about one though, as far as I know, so the answer remains...unknown. 💀 (I did introduce tomb-script, the language you see etched into stone in the Necropolis, but I thought of it as more of a specialist's language for occult and magical things specifically.) (If we did define a Nevarran language in some corner of the lore, now I'm going to feel embarrassed, but I don't BELIEVE we did.)" [source, two, three]

User: "I wanted to ask if you have anything you can share about MW grave dowry jewellery - is it the sort of thing they keep on at all times? Also, would Emmrich like jewellery gifts or give them to Rook?" / Sylvia: "I figured it would be something they wear most of the time, or at least in public. You don't want to be without your grave-gold if you pass away! Emmrich would love to get jewellery, especially if it marked a special occasion like his other pieces do! He'd also probably like to gift Rook a piece of grave gold himself, though he knows a non-MW Rook might look at that part askance." [source, two]

User: "Question: how much if anything can you tell us about the circumstances surrounding the emergence of Emmrich's magic and him going to the Mourn Watch? In my mind, his parents' death could certainly be a catalyst for the emergence of mage powers, but I'm so curious why the butcher's boy goes to what seems the equivalent of Nevarran Harvard instead of a regular Circle unless he immediately demonstrated outstanding ability?" / Sylvia: So timeline wise, I think his magic manifested after he was taken in. This part isn't canon, so much as a background thought I had that maybe the spirits of the Necropolis nudged the MW to scoop up this future corpse-whisperer. It seems like a kind of place ripe for that sort of omen. That said, it could've also been a kindhearted Watcher who saw how shattered and alone this young boy was, and thought an upbringing in the Grand Necropolis would be the better place to deal with his grief. It's the kind of thing I want to leave open unless someone goes back one day to fill it out!" [source, two]

User: "what’s the overall Mourn Watch opinion on the whole Weekend at King Markus’s the other Mortalitasi are pulling? I can’t blame Emmrich for not wanting to be involved with that political mess!" / Sylvia: "No clue what you're talking about. King Markus is in the finest of health!!!!! ahahahahaha (To my mind Emmrich's response indicates a tension between the orders, but that they're going along with the polite fiction to avoid a mess. I can't say what the future holds though.)" [source]

User: "Ah, one last note: whoever decided “DA liches are immortal protectors and not always evil?” Chef’s kiss. It’s all I’ve ever wanted!" / Sylvia: "Thanks again! It was in Emmrich's first draft. The other writers and editors gave me good feeback on lichdom and the philosophy behind it especially" [source]

User: "I'm an ICU nurse, and that is imagined to confer a comfort with mortality. Suffice to say Emmrich has been a huge comfort to see." / Sylvia: "Thanks so much. I really wanted him to struggle with it while also engaging with it, because it's something I find hard as well. And I hoped it would find purchase with players." [source]

User: "If you’re willing, can you share a bit about the other orders within the Mortalitasi? Is there a rivalry with the Tevinter Imperium?" / Sylvia: I'm afraid I don't have much, sorry. I left the other Mortalitasi orders a big open canvas in case we wanted to invent more some day. (We've mentioned the palace Mortalitasi are separate from the Mourn Watch, so there's one. As you probably caught, Emmrich's not a fan of theirs.) Is there a rivalry with the Tevinter Imperium? I can't really point to anything in the game talking about that, so I hesitate to call it canon. But to my mind it would be very natural and also very funny. So if that ever manifests, I approve." [source, two]

User: "was any of Emmrich's design or personality modeled on British actor David Niven? I think there is resemblance just wondering if that was intentional." / Sylvia: "Oh I love David Niven. But the more direct actor influence for me was Peter Cushing in a few old Hammer Horror films." [source]

User: "just wanted to say thank you for creating the character of Josephine in Inq!! Helped me learn some stuff about myself when I was younger and meant a lot." / Sylvia: "Thank you so much on all counts! I'm glad the lovely Lady Montilyet was there for you (and enormous credit to her actor, Allegra Clark. She absolutely nailed Josephine, straight away.)" [source]

User, on Emmrich: "He mentions he thought he would marry - is that permitted for Mortalitasi when it wasn't for regular Circle mages? Can they now raise their own children?" / Sylvia: Mortalitasi have a lot of power. I imagine the Nevarran Chantry might grant them permission to marry outside the Circle more regularly than in places where mages are given less respect. (Mages can also marry within Circles, so no permission needed in those cases.) The same might be true for mages raising mage-born children in Nevarra, but I say that with less certainty. I think that's a topic I would've wanted to discuss with the rest of the narrative team." [source, two]

User: "is there a particular reason why emmrich is always wearing a glove on one hand?" / Sylvia: "I like to think it's mostly because he works a lot with his hands. The glove seems useful if he has to, say, grip a rough outcrop of rock when traversing the Necropolis, or deal with a bitey corpse." [source]

User, on Emmrich: "On my 1st run I played a trans Rook and romanced him. It felt incredible how he was so accepting of Rook's identity, and in return she could support him as he did a transition of his own as well. Beautiful mirroring!" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much! If those scenes worked, it's thanks to some people at work who kindly gave feedback that helped get the tone right." [source]

User: "I've been wanting to thank you for writing Luck in the Gardens for 4 years. Hollix was the first time I ever saw a non-binary character given a real voice." / Sylvia: "I loved writing Hollix in that story, they were a treat, and I'm glad they meant a lot to you. (And a shout out to a nb friend who gave me some good feedback on the character, I don't think the story would've been as clear without their help.)" [source]

User: "I was curious about Audric from TN, and if he originally was planned to have an appearance in veilguard, and what he's up to now" / Sylvia: "Love Audric, but I never planned to bring him into VG. I'm not AGAINST it, but I didn't want the short stories to feel like required reading for the game, and I liked where his arc ended in DatDM. That said, I dropped in a few references to Audric to let people know he's around and well. And I imagine he's doing what he loves: being a force of order, in the library. (And reading books during the more quiet hours below.)" [source, two]

User: "As a consumer of (and probably future creator of) so called "erotic" fanficfion, I'm wondering how you feel about the fact that fans make it about a character you created?" / Sylvia: "No issues with it whatsoever. We put sex and romance into the game itself, after all. I think people use fan art and fanfiction to extend their time with a story they've grown fond of, or to figure things out. So it feels like a natural extension of that." [source]

User: "Maybe one day my rook will join the mw!" / Sylvia: "Well, the Grand Necropolis is always eager for more company...🪦👻" [source]

User: "did the flame eternal (short story) come first or the flame eternal (quest)? i’ve been wondering if the quest was named after the story or vice versa" / Sylvia: "I wrote the scene first, the short story came after. But I named the quest AFTER the short story had come out, so I'd say the quest is named for the story because I liked the callback." [source]

User: "1.I know John answered already that Emmrich sleeps like a horse but is there really no bed for this man? 2.How would he react to a bouquet made for him?" / Sylvia: "1. Unknown. Perhaps he brings out pillows and a blanket for the slab in his room (after scrubbing it, of course!) Perhaps he goes home to an elaborate silk-covered bed in his Necropolis apartments. Or the horse thing. (TBH: I never decided myself, so I've leaned into impish mystery). 2. Emmrich would be absolutely delighted and flattered by being presented with a flower bouquet." [source, two]

User: "I hope it's okay to pop here but it might interest you to know a lot of us have been headcanoning that he has a secret bedroom behind one of his bookshelves! It seemed to line up with his sensibilities somewhat." / Sylvia: "That would honestly be great. Pull out the right book and snooze time." [source]

User, on the cemetery date: "This makes me feel like Mourn Watchers include the dead in important personal milestones/events and, if so, I love that so much. Like they want to share these events and the joy/love/excitement/etc. with those who have passed (and perhaps linger.)" / Sylvia: "That's absolutely how I thought of it too." [source]

User: "was there any game/book/show/film that inspired the Mourn Watch and Emmrich? When I saw them in the preview content, I got reminded of the Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir and playing through the game cemented those vibes." / Sylvia: "I hadn't read any Locked Tomb when writing Emmrich, I think we must both just have impeccable taste. (I actually tried to stay away from contemporary stuff on necromancy when writing him, out of a superstitious fear I'd be unduly influenced. I do want to talk about influences later though!)" [source]

User, on Josie: "Do you think she’s open to having kids/adopting with the Inquisitor? Lord Ontranto and Yvette are so ahead!" / Sylvia: "I think that falls firmly within the category of what you imagine she and your Inquisitor's romance looks like, which means: absolutely, if that's where you imagine life would take them." [source]

User: "Emmrich, his story & everything surrounding him absolutely played a huge part in helping to lift me up & connecting me with new friends online" / Sylvia: "Thank you! And I'm very glad to hear Emmrich and his fellow Watchers helped you out when you needed it. He'd be pleased to know so himself." [source]

User: "Was it ever considered for him to appear in the game?" / Sylvia: "(short answer is no, but I wanted to let people know Audric's doing well.)" [source]

User: "I enjoyed your short stories in Tevinter Nights. Emmrich mentioned working out in the morning. What does his morning routine look like, and what kind of exercise does he do?" / Sylvia: "Thanks so much! Those stories have a special place in my heart, so that's especially nice to hear. On exercise: He likes a brisk stroll, and does morning stretches, and for something more strenuous, he likes to go swimming. Why? It's a workout where you don't have to worry about sweating. That just seemed to align with his fastidiousness in a funny way to me. (I also imagine exploring the Necropolis keeps him active, climbing all those stairs and crumbling ledges and the outsized walls of hallowed tombs, etc.)" [source, two]

User: "Harding will turn to a MW Rook who's been talking nerdy necro shop with Emmrich, and goes (paraphrasing), "You're so different when you're talking about this stuff than you are when you hang out with us!" and I loved that" / Sylvia: "Yes indeed! And thanks. I really wanted a beat where you realize MW Rook has learned to swap between being a fancy nerd and talking a bit more like "regular" people in Thedas. It seemed like a fun trait for that background." [source]

Sylvia, on how she came to BioWare: "No formal training. The closest to practice I had was running tabletop RPGs for friends, which actually helped me a lot with understanding the different kind of RPG players out there and what people want out of a story. And honestly: I just kept applying, over and over. That was my main virtue. I was rejected the first couple times I applied to BW. And rightly, I think, I wasn't ready and practicing in between really helped me become a stronger writer." [source, two]

Some more on this topic ^ from Sylvia: "To be honest: mostly luck, some perseverance, and then writing skills, in that order. I was rejected at least twice from BW before I got in, and I think they were right to do so. I wasn't ready yet. The third round someone I knew passed on my sample to a writer there, I did two more rounds of samples while taking feedback and revising over the next month. And then I was lucky enough they liked it enough to interview me. I wish I had better advice than perseverance. I think having a small, completed game, even something text based or a mod, isn't bad either. Even if it's short, it shows you finished it. But: my entry was over 15 years ago now, and to be honest I'm not sure what BW's applicant process are anymore. I don't want to be discouraging though. I would say keep applying, and make friends with like minded people who also want to make games, and best of luck." [source, two, three, four]

User: "I've been wondering something about Mourn Watch Rook's background - their bio says they were found as a baby + raised by the MW, and they reference it in-game, but then they also say they were a street kid and left their old life behind to join the MW to Taash. I'm just curious how one - being raised by the MW - lead to the other - street kid era. I just hc'd it as a euphemism for my Rook's party girl phase lol but it did leave me a little confused." / Sylvia: "This is a case of the background changing slightly over time, and me not squaring it in time with dialogue. In my mind: MW IS found by the Mourn Watch, raised by them, and work for them. But MW Rook also had period(s?) growing up where they explored Nevarra city, to explain why they're more. street savvy and worldly than your typical Watchers who never leave the city. I've seen people noting some discrepancies, and in a perfect world I would've caught those lines in time to smooth them out to encompass the whole story. But perhaps your Rook gives slightly different answers to different people for their own, mysterious reasons! (Or, in reality, it's writer error.)" [source, two, three] "Anyhow, I encourage any head canons that help square these discrepancies" [source]

User: "I romanced him on a Rook that I perceived as about 42ish and my running interpretation of the lines acknowledging her being young were either Emmrich not realizing how old she is, a running bit between them, or some cute form of flattery to not remind her of her own age haha" / Sylvia: "That's adorable, I love it" [source]

User: "1. What would Josie's ideal date be? 2. Could adopted kids be heir of the Montilyet estate or would it go to Yvette? 3. What does Josie think of the Crows?" / Sylvia: "1. I think she'd try to structure something, but the Inquisitor taking her away from her strictly scheduled routine to relax would actually be better for her. A picnic in a garden, a stroll around a lake followed by a meal in a quiet little restaurant. Something with a soft evening. 2. I don't think I ever said so in the game, but to my mind Josephine had some nieces and nephews in line to be heir. If she adopted a child and thought they'd be a better candidate, they could absolutely inherit the estate. (And of course, she could bequeath money or personal effects as she liked.) 3. She thinks of them as a necessity in Antiva, and that it's important to appease them. There's probably highly placed Crows she would get along with. But she'd never be comfortable with them. At the end of the day they're contract killers, and she's no lover of violence. (If I actually DID mention who Josephine had lined up to inherit the estate after her, but just forgot, I will ask for mercy because the game came out over 10 years ago.)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "Would you ever consider making a playlist on spotify of the sort of music you could picture Emmerich listening to? Or perhaps sharing any of the music you listened to while writing Emmrich?" / Sylvia: "I actually have an itunes playlist of what I listened to when writing Emmrich on my old computer. If I dig it out, I'll post a screenshot! (A lot of ambient stuff, probably unsurprisingly)" [source]

User: "I utterly, completely adore the way Josephine was written, she's such a wonderful and complex character. Her history as a bard, her ruthlessness, her kindness and sweet nature and how CUTE her romance is." / Sylvia: "Lady Montilyet herself would be flattered to hear you liked it." [source]

User, on Sylvia's comment about Peter Cushing being a go-to for what Emmrich would be like: "This makes me so unbelievably happy given my love for Peter Cushing 😭 my love for Emmrich was inevitable." / Sylvia: "I want to talk a little more about it later but Cushing was such a wonderful actor. Wish we'd had him around even longer." [source]

User, on death and working in death care: "In the end, it’s always about memory." / Sylvia: "That's so true. We want to be remembered, or to have something that lets people know even a little about who we are. (It's why I'm glad newspapers still print obituaries, you can read about the most amazing lives.)" [source]

User: "I was starting to think the game was reading my mind and tailoring to me once he said his favorite color was lilac, and I was given the option to say darker purple." / Sylvia: "I'm glad you enjoyed Emmrich and his romance. And that the bit about colours worked for you, I was trying to think of what would be something fun there, and purple is one of my favorites too. (Fine taste!)" [source]

User: "“Down Among the Dead Men” is one of my favorite chapters from Tevinter Nights. I loved Audric and I was so happy when Myrna mentioned him in Veilguard! Was there any chance he might’ve appeared in game?" / Sylvia: "basically I didn't plan it, but I wanted to let TN readers know Audric is living well" [source]

User: "If Hezenkoss was also you ALL of that was a sheer stroke of brilliance!" / Sylvia: "Thank you! Hezenkoss was me, so glad you liked her. She was a blast to write. Oh my god, I meant to write Hezenkoss was one of my favorites not "me". (I think I snipped out something and consequentially sound like a maniac in that post above. SORRY. She is not me, I wish I had that kind of confidence.)" [source, two]

User, on behalf of their friend: "Well, spontaneously I'd be interested if she can say any more about Emmrich's past romances. Was there someone really serious among them, or all just fun and casual? I'm also curious how the whole mage training works in Nevarra. Are some trained from the start by the Mourn Watch or does everyone go to the Mortalitasi equivalent of a Circle first?" / Sylvia: "1. I think there was probably a mix of more serious romances and more casual ones over Emmrich's life. The serious ones just never panned out. (Until Rook, if you're romancing him.) 2. I pictured the MW taking in promising members from other circles, but I left their selection criteria vague on purpose, in case we needed to define it later. Of course, there's also exceptions. We've seen they take in some orphans or foundlings (MW Rook and Emmrich, for example) when fate, chance, or pity allows it. (I had an idea spirits might sometimes nudge MWers to take in someone, but that's not in the game, so it remains, I suppose now, my own head canon.)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "Emmrich is every bit the warm and kind academic that I looked up to in my undergrad/postgrad days, and I have taken time in the game just to wander the Grand Necropolis and take everything in." / Sylvia: "My pleasure, and thanks very much for saying so. (Props to all my teammates, it took a lot of people to bring those characters and places to life, and they were all so enthusiastic about our weird gothy corner of Thedas.)" [source]

User, on Emmrich's dream: "One of few cases where writers don't go for "actually immortality is lame" lesson to appease the audience for whom immortality is unattainable. Refreshing to have a character who wants to live forever, can do it, and it isn't treated as a mistake. One of the boldest bits of writing in the game." / Sylvia: "Thanks Mary - that was one of my aims, because so many times in stories, immortality is a fool's errand. I wanted it to have its rules, and its price, but not something disastrous or out of reach." [source]

User: "The MW as a whole was beautifully done and the way they handle life and death was deeply healing and aided tremendously in my own personal journey with grief." / Sylvia: "I'm very glad meeting Emmrich and the Watchers helped even a little, that means a lot to hear." [source]

User: "Amazing work in veilguard and inquisition honestly and the flame eternal was such a fun read! Unless it’s been answered before my query is where do the Mourn watchers live/sleep? Is it a case of they live in the higher parts of the Necropolis or do they live in the city and commute?" / Sylvia: "Flame Eternal was a fun one, hadn't written a story that short before but I enjoyed introducing Johanna and Emmrich's dynamic back in their good old days... As to your question, there's one line of banter between Emmrich and Neve that talks about this (so, very easy to miss.) The Mourn Watchers live and sleep in the upper (safer) levels of the Necropolis." [source, two]

User: "does mortal!Emmrich return to the Necropolis or spend more time in the world first? He plays detective with Neve & camps in Ferelden with Harding feels like he’d want to experience more of the world before returning home." / Sylvia: "Impossible for me to say what the future will hold with certainty, but I think Emmrich's enjoying exploring the world too much to go back to living in the Necropolis full time just yet. He'd certainly want to keep visiting regularly, but there's so much more to see." [source]

Sylvia: "The Watchers have a special place in my heart." [source]

User: "I just wanted to say how much I love Emmrich" / Sylvia: "Thank you very much! I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed getting to know him." [source]

at this point tumblr stopped letting me add to this post !

[purble-turble]

actually, you know what would be interesting and funny you brought up the whole rebounding thing but like... what if that situation happens completely by the others (including Redson and his echo chamber friends) jumping to conclusions and planting that seed of an idea in the two heads. Mk is naturally very affectionate, physical touch is a big part of his love language. he grew up alongside mei who was just as physical and no one actually encouraged them not to be. snuggling/hugging/kissing(like quick head and cheek pecks) your homies is very normalized. he's also dealing with family and friend issues because things are really tense and he's feeling everything at a 10 right know. its not just Red he can't talk too, he can even talk to Mei as comfortably and maybe lately feels like she avoiding him in favor of prioritizing Red.

Nezha. that boy is just starved of affection both verbal and physical. period. yeah its a bit overwhelming and confusing for him at first but after he gets used to mk's love language it's like 'Oh, hey this is really nice...huh...can i do this too?' and the answer was yes of course! he slowly starts implementing little touches here and there, initiating the hugs. it's still a bit awkward for him so he ends up utilizing other forms of love language, but the effort is there and mk is ecstatic. but it starts to make the other side-eye the situation. everyone (especially tang) was on board at first cause like....its a legendary celestial warrior, he's shown to be reliable and mature and so on. surly this could only be a good influence for mk. and yeah at first they only see good things, mk seems to get a little better over time, he's even getting extra exercise training like meditation, yoga/Tai chi. stuff that is supposed to support mental and physical wellness so of course Nezha must be good! Pigsy is the first to notice that maybe there starting to get a little too close, starts drawing parallels to how mk acted with Red. he brings it up with the others. tang isn't bothered and mei isn't either at first but now that idea is in her head, and it grows over time and now shes getting suspisiou as pigsy. and maybe a little pissed. nezha and mk of course havn'ty actually thought of each other like that, there just friends for god sake! he hasn't done anything with nezha that hes already done with mei. but mk gets confronted eventually and of course, tells Nezha after the fact. they both agree everyone's being ridiculous, they are just really close friends! but internally there both secretly like '....but what if?....' Red's group of friends are just shit starters, gold medalists when it comes to jumping to conclusions, especially regarding mk. they see monkey boy chatting up and getting close with another prince and run wild with ideas they of course share with Red. they see them being physically affectionate or hear something even vaguely suggestive they are not gonna look or ask for context. hell you can give them the full context they still cherry-pick it apart like the Christian bible. anything to make Mk look as horrible as they believe he is.

Yooooo I am vibrating in my seat right now i fuckin loooove this!! 💖

You’re so right about MK’s fam thinking that Nezha will be a good influence on him at the start of things.. they have no idea that Nezha approves of the attempted sacrifice MK made at the pillar. I mean, it’s a sore spot for all of them, so it’s likely just not brought up in casual settings. The first time they catch a glimpse of it is probably a tense moment where someone tried to point out to MK that he was taking on too much again and exhausting himself.. but instead of getting a bit sheepish saying he’ll take better care of himself like he might have done before, he stands firm and is like ‘No, I can handle this! These are my problems and I’m going to handle them.’ And Nezha is spotted in the background with a lil smile and an agreeing nod and… ok. That’s weird.

As for the romantic aspect of it, them being a little oblivious about their budding romantic feelings at first and having to have it pointed out by the others how close they’ve gotten is sooooo good! I’m always a sucker for oblivious MK, but I can fully see Nezha being exactly like that too.

Mei for sure shares with Prince Red that she thinks MK has gotten weirdly close to Nezha lately.. and Red has already noticed that MK has been coming by to try to win him back less and less… could it be he’s really been replaced that easily? It’s… kind of hard to think MK would move on so quickly, especially because he is probably still struggling with it. Maybe he even goes to check it out for himself and spots MK and Nezha out together on a stroll. And look, MK is holding hands with the lotus prince and… oh. kisses his cheek… that’s… pretty hard to not interpret as romantic.

Even if Red knows MK and a little niggling doubt in the back of his mind can be like ‘well, he’s like that with Mei too so maybe???’ If he’s already primed to be looking for it by Mei (and also his own already hurt feelings) then this would be pretty clear confirmation of his fear that MK has moved on and is romantically involved with Nezha now. Also yeah it for sure doesn’t help that all Prince Red’s friends are gonna add fuel to this fire once he tells them about it, just like you said. They never thought MK was good enough for Red, so why would they put it past him to move on from him really fast too?

Haha, anyway, once MK’s fam start asking more pointed questions about their relationship, MK and Nezha might even have a frank discussion about it. They’re more open with each other than they are with anybody else, after all, since there’s no fear of judgement or moralizing from sharing how they actually feel. In any case, even if they can’t manage to have the straight up discussion, the displays of affection definitely get more frequent on both ends and things progress that way regardless~

[brittle-doughie]

2nd attempt in sending this ask.

Integrity anon finally back, this has been sitting on my phone for months, mainly from procrastination and not being able to think of anything, took me listening to secret garden on loop to figure out how this would go but it's here now.

Y/n had been travelling for a few weeks after their departure from the village, they seem to be lucky cause it seems the next god is a little more closer to them than the Autonomy god. doesn't mean it's not far tho.

During Y/n's short stops in their journey, they realise that the flourishing plants grow much more faster and seem healthier than the average greenery back home, there also seems to be more animals than it should normally be, Y/n takes this as a sign that they're getting closer to their designation and so they continue their journey.

It's midnight now and the forest is still as lively as it was in the day, countless moths being attracted to Y/n's lantern(Y/n doesn't mind the moths, they find them beautiful), fireflies seen glowing in their peripheral vision, crickets are heard in the background, centipedes crawling on the forest floor, and bats flying in the night sky using echolocation to navigate their surroundings. They hear whispers after a few hours, and so they trek on.

The whispers quickly grow louder and a second later, they find a flourishing garden filled with nocturnal flowers with countless Nymphaeas floating on the water as a small water fall is seen at the back. In the middle of all the gorgeous plant life lies a statue of the Creation god, They walk towards the statue while being mindful of their steps as to not destroy any of the flowers, sits infront of the statue and falls asleep.

Y/n opens their eyes and is immediately greeted by the Creation god.

"Hello mortal cookie, I suppose your here from seeking me out with the guidance of a fellow god?"

Y/n, speechless by the beauty of the surroundings, simply nods. Before they could say their reason behind their visit, the Creation god interrupts them.

"*chuckles* Through your interactions with Truth and Autonomy, I already know your reason for being here little cookie, for your encounters with my fellow gods have strengthen our bond enough to be able to talk to each other once more, and this will be strengthen even more from interactions with two more gods."

The Creation god continues.

"Now then, walk towards me mortal cookie, I shall place my own emblem symbol over the mark of that beast cookie."

Y/n does so and an emblem symbol is placed over burning spice cookie's mark, removing it in the process. The emblem symbol is larger than the 2 previous emblem symbols, it appears on the entire front of the torso, it is an open egg with a fully grown tree sprouting out of it, with a seed in the middle of the tree trunk. It speeds up plant growth like trees or vegetables and ensures that the plants lives healthily.

"I wish you the best in your journey, mortal cookie."

Before the Creation god sends Y/n on their way, they speak once more.

"And I appreaciate you taking great care on where you step when walking in my garden, I have been nourishing both it and the forest with my abilities for more than a millennia. I'd appreciate it if you visit this place once in a while, farewell, mortal cookie."

And Y/n wakes up with an egg right next to them. The egg has a carved outline of a tree with a carved outline of a seed on the back, it can be cracked open and it will start to rapidly grow a fruit tree of one's choice, the tree's roots will also rapidly grow nearby plant life and will grow beautiful flowers of the respective area. Once the fruit is now fully grown, it can replenish strength when eaten, the fruit will not rot away so you are able to store the rest of the fruits for future use. When all fruits are picked off the tree, it will retreat back into the egg and the egg closes, ready to be cracked open again.

Y/n stands up as the compass points to a new direction, they watch where they step once more and begin their journey.

fun fact 1: This isn't too related to the story but basically I forgot about the soul jams. When I remembered them, searched them up and saw pure vanilla's I went "oh 👁️👄👁️" So now I went with pv's soul jam coming full circle with the Integrity of truth cuz why not.

fun fact 2: When the five integrity gods first learn about the beast marks they will at some point in their interaction with y/n, will inhale and do a long exasperated sigh like a parent dissapointed in their child.

Bonus:

I completely forgot to give a function to Autonomy's emblem symbol so here's a basic summary of it-

Autonomy's emblem symbol gives great amounts of physical energy, determination and perseverance when needed. This allows Y/n to surpass the strength limit of their body without consequences and be able to achieve what is deemed impossible.

Y/n was already op with the Truth god's emblem symbol, now with Autonomy's and Creation's emblem symbols? Yeah there's no way of defeating them, then again the emblem symbols are derived from powers of gods so it's reasonable on why having one already makes Y/n op.

-Integrity anon

I mean what can they do, really. Beasts like to mark what’s theirs with their own ways of doing so, Spice is just a bit blunt on that regard.

[yuyusshinelight]

The Elf feat c.jh

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

♪ English is not my first language so sorry if there's any mistake.

♪ This post is just pure fiction. This does NOT represent Jongho in any way.

Note: Hi my shining stars! I have a cold so I'm probably not uploading things as often as I would like. But don't worry, I feel a bit better today so I have brought you the next one: Jongho! I hope you have fun reading it as much as I had writing it. I love you all, my shining stars!!!

The Elf tradition. Something he discovered on social media and later he saw in his hyungs. Also it was an activity he wanted to experience with his son since he was born but obviously he couldn't because his son was too young.

But now his kid is three years old so Santa has finally 'sent' one of his elves to his house. Apple, as his son named it. And today is Jongho's turn to move the elf. He is so excited for doing so, more than your son searching the elf in the morning. You actually think that the father is more enthusiastic with this whole thing than the son. Cute.

The matter is that your son has been playing lately with a tiny cactus you have as decoration and, as his parents, you are worried about him getting hurt with the plant. The best solution would have been to hide the cactus but you want to teach your son that if you tell him to not do something for his wellbeing, he should not do it. But, again, he is three years old. Kids are curious and the more you tell them no, the more they want to do it.

So, taking advantage of having a wicked elf in the house, you can teach your son what can happen if he continues playing with the cactus. And that's exactly what Jongho has prepared for this morning. He has put some band-aids on the elf's butt pretending to be hurt and, next to the poor 'pained' elf, he has placed a note.

"Apple! What did you do?" That's your son's little voice after running all over the house searching for his elf. The kid knows that neither of you can touch the elf so he just stands there, with a little pout and both hands on his cheeks. You, who can't see your baby pouting without going to hug him, crouch down to his level, obviously hugging him and pointing at the piece of paper next to the elf "Look, he left a note. Give it to daddy so he can read it for us" and that's exactly what your kid does.

Taking the paper carefully so as not to touch the elf, your son goes with Jongho to hand him said paper and the male, being as dramatic as he can be, reads the note for his son "Tip of the day, never play leap frog with a cactus".

"Who would think of it?" Your son puts his fist on his waist before turning to look at his elf again, he's not worried about Apple anymore "Well darling, Apple was bored and decided to play with the cactus" you decide to defend the elf, just curious of what your son will respond, but instead of the kid, is the father who talks next "See? He played with the cactus and got a puncture" Jongho gives him a little tap on the nose, leaving the note forgotten on the table "But I don't play leap frog with it!".

"But you can also get a puncture, love" Jongho replies to him, imitating his posture until the kid turns to look at his mother for help but you just nod at what your husband has said. Defeated, your son looks at his hands, thinking about how much it would hurt if he gets punctured and suddenly raises his hand "I will be careful next time, I don't want a puncture on my finger" the kid moves his index in front of your face, exactly the same way as when he wants you to give him a kiss because he has gotten hurt, and that's precisely what you do, give him a kiss on his finger.

And even if that was not what you had planned with this mischief, the face your son is giving you is sufficient to make you two look at each other in defeat "You love to play with that cactus, uhm?" Jongho says, taking your son in his arms to tickle him a little "Then remember, you have to be extra careful with the thorns, okay?" and your son only nods, taking his father's hand to avoid further tickling.

[cliosunshine]

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none; jason struggles to come to terms with the fact that you and your dragons might actually be harmless

Word count: 4.0k

A/N: third part, yay! I finally got around to finish it. Now that i have more free time, I hope to write and post chapter four by the end of the year lol

You watched in horror at the gun pointed right in front of Pyro, your beloved albeit extremely chaotic and destructive fire dragon.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” You yelped as you raised both of your hands and fully turned towards Jason, the two of you still on Obsidian’s back and in between two building complexes, “Hood, drop the gun. Now.”

Although you didn’t know him at all, you really didn’t want the vigilante sitting behind you to accidentally get the both of you roasted like rotisserie chickens by Pyro’s fire breath.

He scoffed, clearly agitated, his gun still up in the air. You had never been that close to a weapon in your entire life and oh god was it terrifying. You then remembered he actually had two of them strapped on his thighs and gulped nervously.

“What do you mean he melted your bike?” you asked, trying to dissuade the situation. You noticed how Pyro was eyeing Red Hood with a knowing look and that gave you more reason to believe that they had actually met before.

“That asshole came up to me, tried to fire his stupid flames in my direction and then he had to set my building’s garages on fire, melting my bike in the process,” his exasperated tone made you look away, heat spreading across your face in embarrassment at your dragon’s actions. It was like having another adult telling you about something bad your child had done.

You eventually sighed in defeat, “Can you at least lower your gun? We can talk about his whole ordeal later, but right now you’re scaring him,”

You couldn’t see it, but by the way he began laughing humourlessly you knew he had a baffled look on his face.

“I’m scaring him?”

“Yes, very much so”

A beat passed, but he eventually strapped his gun away, definitely giving the dragon a dirty look.

In the meantime, you began taking your lasso out, ready to stand up. As you did so, Pyro understood what that action meant and bolted away, flapping his burgundy scaled wings faster than you had thought imaginable.

Fuck.

“Obi, go!” That was everything you needed to say to make him begin chasing his buddy. He, too, was frustrated by his out-of-pocket behaviour. As you skimmed through the skyscrapers of the city, you felt Hood’s arms snake up your waist again, squeezing you gently. You could feel his gloved fingers twitching against the fabric of your sweater as you leaned forward and planted your hands in between your dragon’s horns, making him fly faster.

It was a tiring game of cat and mouse, but with all the times you had to retrieve Pyro back at home, you were pretty confident in yours and Obsidian’s abilities.

As predicted, the fire dragon’s erratic and impulsive nature led him to an enclosed area, where it seemed the nearest exit for him was by your right. As if sensing it too, Obsidian repositioned himself, so that his wing span could block the exit in its entirety.

Jason watched you as you took the glowing lasso in your hand.

His eyes followed your every move and they widened when you suddenly got up on your feet, your stance incredibly stable for someone who had to balance on a breathing and flying creature that was all scales and ridges, with no flat surface to stabilize themselves on.

“I’m sorry for doing it with you here, too,” you apologised with a focused look toward your target. Jason could only nod as he admired you, his own raging thoughts that were previously aimed at the dragon completely dissipated at the sight of you looking like an off-duty Amazon. The fierce look on your face was something you reserved only to the dragons that were acting out and he hoped to never be on the receiving end of it. It was completely juxtaposed to the very sweet and playful disposition you had shown thus far and he didn’t want the light-hearted banter between the two of you to cease just yet. He still didn’t know whether to trust you or not: this whole situation seemed too ridiculous to be true, yet here you were, swinging your lasso with incredible agility as you remained calm and focused.

If Jason had blinked, he would’ve missed it.

You threw the hoop over the dragon’s head and it swiftly slipped on his neck. Only then did Jason notice how small his head was when compared to the other dragons he had seen. The lack of spikes and red eyes made this one look so uncanny and terrifying that he would’ve been scared if he wasn’t still pissed off about his bike.

“Gotcha,” you put the rope in Obsidian’s mouth and sat back down, careful where to put your feet since you had a guest now.

“I’m sorry about Pyro,” you began to apologize to Jason, who could only look at you, “he’s very impulsive and may or may not have incredible anger issues, which isn’t rare for dragons to have but his are atrocious,”

Jason hummed, his mind elsewhere. That lasso looked too much like Diana’s for his own liking, but he decided not to question it whilst mid-air on your extremely protective dragon’s back.

The ride back was peaceful and you managed to coax some of your more mild-tempered overgrown puppies to follow you. They truly did resemble dogs, those ones, with their tails wagging side to side and curiously eyeing Jason.

So, from what he figured by analysing the situation and these creatures, he just had to have the worst luck in the entire universe to meet and irate the deranged and feral one.

He huffed a laugh that seemed to turn your gaze onto him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’,” he shrugged, “just thinking about how, out of all the Tolkien-esque creatures you have, I had to piss off the clearly mentally unstable one”

You shushed him, a mix of shock and amusement in your face.

“Don’t talk about Pyro like that! He’s a troubled boy…he’s been through a lot and is still recovering,” you said as you looked towards him: he was now engaging in a one-sided game of tug war with Obi, who was clearly not having none of it by the way he puffed smoke in the younger dragon’s face as a warning.

You could only huff, some strands of hair on your face lifting up in the process.

It didn’t even feel like Jason was flying above Gotham’s skyline. With the easy conversation and the effortless way you were talking with him, he eased up as if the two of you were just taking a stroll in a park, like you had just done moments ago.

Before he knew it, you had reached the manor and hopped off Obsidian’s back.

There, all of the people residing in it were in the garden, watching the two of you approach them. Alfred’s eyes widened ever so subtly and Jason barked out a laugh as he took his helmet off and walking up to him.

“Hey, Alfred, I’m sorry but those guys there have destroyed half of your topiary,” he said as he rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“I see,” said the butler with a slightly unamused look on his face, “I hope you successfully retrieved every ingredient for Goliath’s compress. Master Damian hasn’t stopped blaming himself for his skin rash since your departure,”

“I’ve got everything I need, Alfred!”

The two men turned around at the sound of your voice. You had just finished talking to Bruce, informing him that only two dragons were left to catch and that they would eventually follow the scent of the pack and come back without a fuss.

“Very well then, miss,” and with that you approached Damian, who was petting and consoling a rather shy and trembling Goliath, clearly agitated by whatever he was looking at behind your back.

You followed his gaze and laughed as you saw 14 dragons staring back with great curiosity and caution at the big ball of red fur. Now that he thought about it, Goliath sure was a strange dragon: he was significantly smaller than any of yours and was covered in bright red fur, whereas all you dragons sported muted colours and had scaled bodies, more often than not adorned with spikes.

You cooed at him, getting closer at the creature. Managing to crush every ingredient into a green mush, you began to delicately massage it over his worse spots.

Clearly spooked by the cold mixture, Goliath growled at you, snapping his wide mouth mere centimetres from your face and making you jump in surprise.

Before you could apologise and try to calm the dragon down, Obsidian lunged at him with a roar as he pinned the supposed threat to the ground, not letting him go. He puffed smoke in his face, never quite spewing flames out of his mouth. Jason was on alert right away as was everybody else. Even the other dragons grew tense as the watched the scene unravel: some seemed to growl at Goliath with the same protective instinct Obsidian had, whilst others grew shy and retreated behind some of the bigger ones.

“Get your dragon in check, Y/N,” Jason warned, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him.

He understood why Obsidian lunged at Goliath like that, but he’d be damned before he saw Damian’s most beloved pet get torn to pieces right in front of him.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you quipped back, clearly as agitated as everyone else. Jason almost felt bad for snapping at you, but he truly didn’t know what your intentions were yet and he surely wasn’t going to take any chances.

Everybody watched you carefully as you approached the dragon, whispering something in his ear before Obsidian let go of Goliath’s neck and lowered his head at you. From where they were standing, it seemed like he was almost apologetic.

The more distance grew between Obsidian and Goliath as he retreated back to the rest of the pack, the more everybody, including Jason, seemed to visibly relax.

Here he found another reason not to trust that creature.

You returned your ministrations on Goliath who was still eyeing you warily but let you treat him nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, Damian thanked you before beginning to make his way back to the cave.

“Wait-“ you put and arm out, trying to stop them from walking away so suddenly, “I know that wasn’t the best first impression from Obi. I apologise, but he was just doing what he thought was right at the moment.”

Damian only nodded and Jason raised his brows in surprise at a lack of snarky response from the boy.

“I don’t know where you found him, but Goliath certainly isn’t like any types of dragons I had ever seen before…if you want to, he can come closer to my pack so that they can introduce themselves.”

Damian scanned your face for any signs of malice behind your proposition but after not being able to find any, he accepted. He tried to conceal his excitement at getting his beloved pet to make friends and know more about his kind, but the whole family was quick to catch onto that.

Bruce put a reassuring hand on Damian’s back and encouraged him to walk over them.

One by one, you introduced the dragons to everyone. The light coming from a garden lamp nearby made the creatures less menacing as they looked around curiously, taking in their new surroundings. Helios, the wind dragon and a bunch of other ones where actually pretty chill and very friendly, so much so that they let everybody pet them. Dick appreciated that greatly as he nearly flung himself at a smaller dragon, hugging it. You explained that was a wyvern and her name was Quartz.

“What’s up with their names?”

You looked at Stephanie as you pet Obsidian’s ears, “Oh, we just decided to stick with names that represented either their appearance or abilities,” you explained, “Obi’s completely black, Helios can manipulate and generate wind, Pyro can spew flames out of his mouth-”

Jason grumbled at that, crossing his arms on his chest.

He was the only one who hadn’t gotten closer to the flock. Even Bruce leaned curiously near one of your more relaxed and friendly creatures, not coming too close and definitely analysing its strengths and weaknesses.

Jason scanned his eyes on the scene, before his gaze locked onto yours.

You had a small smile on your lips, your expression unreadable. Were you sizing him up? Were you silently mocking him?

He didn’t like how worked up he got about what you could think of him. He never cared about what other people thought, so why on earth was he now inching closer and closer towards you and Obsidian?

The black dragon only side-eyed him before returning his attention back to Goliath, who was sniffing and ogling his scaled cheeks in interest. Besides him, Damian was talking you ear off about the ice cave he found him in while on a mission.

You nodded with a smile on your face.

“They seem to love them”

You chuckled, “They love the attention and chin scratches, that’s what they love,”

In the distance, you could hear some sirens wailing through the city’s streets.

“Isn’t this whole dragon problem going to mess up your work?”

Jason shrugged, “Not really. All the bad guys that we could get are already in GCPD’s station. If not, they helped scare everyone off, making them barricade in their homes”

Obsidian huffed and you laughed.

“He really doesn’t like me, does he?”

You shook your head in agreement with a laugh.

“He’s just wary of all men. He doesn’t have anything against you, really,” you explained reassuring him, but the way the black dragon was almost mocking him with his challenging eyes told him otherwise.

Jason kept his mouth shut for your sake.

The temperature had dropped significantly and the chilly night seemed to have seeped into everybody’s bones. When you spoke, a cloud of breath vapor came out of your parted lips.

As if one cue, Alfred ushered everybody inside, ignoring their complaints and their claims to be perfectly fine through clattering teeth.

“What about them?”

Bruce glanced back at you and Jason. The dragons were huddled up by your side and were showing signs of sleepiness by drooping their heads.

“We can’t let them out here, B,” interfered Jason, looking at his father, “who knows what sort of crazy stories will circle out tomorrow if they see the very creatures that reigned terror in Gotham the night prior, all cozied up in Wayne manor?”

Bruce gave him a pointed look before composing himself, “they will stay at the batcave with Goliath. I’ve already initiated the dragon protocol when you were gone.”

After tucking your dragons to bed (and after reassuring Obsidian that just one night of not sleeping by your side won’t actively kill him), Alfred showed you the suite guest room before leaving you to yourself. The others had already bid their goodnights and you also met two more members of the vigilante ‘family’, if you could call it that. Oracle and Signal were friendly and showed interest in your occupation, making you promise to introduce them to the flock tomorrow morning.

But now, tossing and turning in your bed after a nice hot shower, sleep didn’t seem like an option for you.

You huffed, clearly frustrated by the weird feeling of emptiness and anxiety that sat heavy in your chest, before completely giving up on getting a nice night of sleep and getting up.

Only clad by a pair of long pyjamas kindly given to you by Alfred, you silently made your way out of your room and into the hallway. The goal was to reach the kitchen to get a glass of water, but as you passed the living room, something outside the large patio windows caught your attention.

It was the broad figure of someone sitting on one of the benches outside. You could barely make out their features due to the lack of lighting, but the familiar green glow you had spotted earlier on was a dead giveaway.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask Hood once you made your way outside and stopped by his right.

He only hummed in response, not glancing up from the ground. He was wearing dark grey sweatpants and a black hoodie with the hood up. His hands were inside the hoodie’s pockets and he sat slightly crouched, like he wanted to make himself smaller.

You tilted your head in curiosity at that.

“Can I sit here? I can’t catch a single ounce of sleep, too,”

He hummed once more, not bothering again to give you a proper answer. You sat down next to him, keeping your distance as you leaned back and gazed up at the sky. You noticed how warm and slightly stuffy it actually was in your room now that you were out here and a light breeze ran past you, raising goosebumps on your cheeks.

You stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Hood decided to speak up.

“Can I ask you something?”

You turned to him, unable to read his expression and nodded.

“Where did you get that lasso?”

It took you a moment to unfog your mind before you realized what he was referring to. Diana’s lasso.

You shrugged, “It was a gift from a very dear friend of mine,” you answered casually, looking at the man next to you, “Why do you ask?”

He didn’t reply immediately, instead he settled for looking at you as if trying to determine whether you were telling the truth or not, his gaze boring right to your side. He decided on the former and sighed, “I’ve seen that lasso before. Everybody here knows that it belongs to one person and one person only-”

“-Diana Prince?”

You saw the way his eyes widened like saucers and chuckled to yourself, “What? You know her, too?”

He took off his hood, an incredulous look on his face, “Everybody knows her! She’s Wonder Woman, for god’s sake, who doesn’t?”

You shrugged again, feigning ignorance on the matter, “All I know is that one day I happened to help a young Amazon out with her jet and taught her how to ride on Obsidian and before she left, she gifted me her lasso,” you explained with a small smile on your face, “she said it would be the only thing that could possibly be able to keep an animal as cunning as a dragon at bay, and wouldn’t you like to know, it’s true!”

The look on Hood’s face was causing you to let another laugh out but you contained yourself. There were clearly gears turning in his head and you patiently waited for the next question you knew was to follow.

The man ran a hand across his face, now fully alert and frustrated with this new piece of information he was provided with.

“But- How did she- …You know?”

“Beats me,” you say sincerely, shaking your head in your own disbelief, “she said she was on a mission with her team someplace near their headquarter that apparently is in space? I was so confused but decided not to prod her on that. She was distressed but told me a portal opened, just like the one I came here in,” you rubbed your neck as you tried to remember what Diana had told you many years ago.

Your eyes lit up as a memory resurfaced. Hood straightened up immediately.

“She said some doctor or professor was trying to prove the string theory was real and went mad? I don’t remember the name, but she said it was someone her team had been dealing with on a regular basis…what was his name,” you looked up to the sky with a pout, as if hoping the stars would give you the piece of information you were missing.

“Was it Mr. Freeze?” Hood began asking, nearly at the edge of the bench with how much he got worked up in such a small window of time, “Or maybe doctor Death? – he was probably in Arkham when the first incident happened though – What about Professor Milo-”

You jumped as you clasped your hands in recognition, “Yes, that one! Milo!”

Hood looked relieved but then his face fell again, “Milo’s been dead for the past three years,” he huffed out, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back.

“Oh…maybe someone who would continue his legacy or that had the same manic tendencies? Maybe someone who could dwell in sorcery of some kind?”

He seemed to contemplate your words with a slight nod, “I’ll look into it tomorrow after I tell B and the rest”

You muttered an ok and silence fell again between you once more.

“So, you’re not planning on attacking us with your flock of dragons?”

You laughed right at his face as you leaned back, holding your stomach, “You sure are a funny guy, Hood,” you said with a smile, “if those really were my intentions, the city would have been reduced to ashes hours ago.”

He nodded once, “Good, ok…”

“Come on, you can ask me whatever question has been bugging you from the moment I first stepped foot in this place,” you encouraged him, tilting your head to the side.

He seemed to hesitate before he turned to you with a sheepish smile, “It’s just that- you know…dragons? Really? They seem like they shouldn’t even exist with the way they look! – no offence to them or you for that matter, but-”

“What about Goliath?”

“Goliath’s different. He’s way smaller, for starters, but he was also found by Damian during one of his missions, when he came across a tomb of some ancient kings…he’s family, and he really acts like an overgrown puppy,”

You hummed in agreement, “And you think my babies are too feral and only capable of destroying everything they touch?”

“…Yes?”

“If you just hate Obsidian and Pyro you can say so, you know. I won’t get offended; I know they’re a handful.”

The man puffed out his cheeks as he looked away, “I’m still mad about my bike, that’s all…and your dragon is a jerk-”

You gasped at that.

“No, he’s not! Is he very territorial and does he hate all men that come too close to him? Yes, but look at you! You managed to get on his back,” you exaggerated stupor with your hands, “No man’s ever managed to do that before, just so you know,” you smiled playfully as you nudged him with your shoulder, “if anything, I think you can’t stand each other because you two have the same temperament.”

“I am nothing like that moron of a dragon-”

“Stop calling Obsidian names!”

“I’m not calling him anything. I simply deal in facts.”

You snorted at that. The chilly breeze that covered your body in goosebumps was seemingly forgotten as you shook your head in disbelief at his word.

Laugher was shared and the tension on Hood’s shoulders seemed to subdue the more you spent talking out there in the cold.

Another chill ran through you that you couldn’t ignore and you quickly got up, “I’m freezing my ass off here. I’m sorry, Hood, but I must go back before I die of hypothermia-”

“Jason.”

You stilled as if you got struck by lightning. With your mouth still open, you managed to mutter out a Sorry what? To the amused man sitting in front of you.

“My name. It’s Jason. You can drop ‘Hood’…we were keeping our names private in case you had heard of us from somewhere,”

“Oh, yeah. Right, Jason- Uhm, I’m Y/N”

“I know that, you told me back at the botanic garden,”

“Ah, yes,”

You didn’t know why, but knowing Jason’s name sent you into short circuit for a minute. You didn’t expect him to do such a thing, yet again you mulled over how many things didn’t go as expected in just a single night, so you silently accepted it.

“You want to join me on the couch? We can drink some tea and watch something on the tv to pass time?”

His only response was a nod with a smile and you both stepped back inside the manor, now knowing something more about each other.

[yaralulus-secret-santa]

henlo... apologies... the AO3 curse has found me...

pls enjoy the first of three gifts... @yaralulu for @acotargiftexchange u will receive another one today as well...

this was also supposed 2 be a hint for the type of content i write... so now.. u will be sure

the expendables

Eris, Tamlin and Jurian are three souls that don’t belong. The first is an heir who will never inherit anything, the second is a savage monster wearing a crown and the last is a human who isn’t capable of anything good. What happens when they come together and realize that pain is best healed together?

TAGS: NSFW / EXPLICIT, Jurian x Eris x Tamlin

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

“What are you doing?”

Tamlin’s voice is an easy rumble, as if the day of war planning had stolen any pretenses of politeness. He sounds tired, and he sounds more like himself. He doesn’t care for the enchanted cabins, or the cluster of soldiers. He likes to make camp further out, and keep his fire unlit. The warmth does nothing for him anymore, and he no longer wants to keep the darkness at bay.

(It finds him anyway.)

He doesn’t look up as Eris slides beside him on his log, an expensive bottle in hand and two glasses. The Autumn son snaps, immediately lighting a flame before them and Tamlin sighs. He prefers to wallow in private. 

“Nothing that concerns you, feel free to carry on sulking. All that brow furrowing is going to give you wrinkles.”

“Only humans get wrinkles.”

“Hm, that’s what Big Glamour wants you to think,” Eris winks.

The cork comes off with a pop, and Eris pours a drink in both glasses. He picks his up and downs it once, before filling it up again. Tamlin’s is left on the ground between them.

“I mean, why do you keep doing that,” Tamlin emphasizes, nodding towards the bottle. “Here.”

It’s not the first time that Eris has planted himself beside the Spring Faerie; it’s almost routine by now. A long day of fighting, either enemies or their own allies, the sun sets and somehow, he finds himself wandering to find the sulking Tamlin. Tamlin is no good company, and yet Eris finds him anyway.

“It’s quiet here, and you don’t really care, do you?”

Tamlin does not. He’s used to being alone, and after what the soldiers have seen on the battlefield, they give him a wide berth. The only people who care to bother him are his brothers, when they aren’t busy, and those of higher ranks like Eris and Jurian. Speaking of the human General, he hasn’t shown his face yet. He’s bound to arrive and shatter any moment of peace left in this damned war.

He reaches for the second glass, downing it and setting it back down.

“Attaboy,” Eris praises and fills the glass up again. 

The Autumn faerie empties his glass once more before speaking. “You really should quit sulking. Faeries like us, we aren’t meant to survive this war. If you’re lucky, you’ll die honorably instead of a timely and embarrassing accident orchestrated by your father.”

Neither of their High Lords intend to surrender their seats, and even Eris with his pride can admit that Tamlin is as big of a threat to the Spring Court as he is to Autumn. 

“And that… is something to look forward to?”

“No, I just think it’s freeing. We can, and should do whatever we want. We can live like humans and their fleeting lives.”

Tamlin still doesn’t understand. Their lives are so short, and each moment feels like it should be crucial to them. He doesn’t know how that translates into his own life. He frowns, taking the glass into his hand and looking at the way the flames light up the crystal and the amber liquid within.

Eris gives him a sideways glance, incredulous and returns his attention ahead of him.

“We could do something wild, like stage a coup. What can they do to us? Beat us? Send us to war? Kill us?” His laughter is the crackle-and-pop of a campfire, dangerously subtle and comforting. “Wouldn’t it be fun, Tammy? Oh, what a pair we would be.”

They aren’t friends. They have nothing in common, and perhaps that is why Eris feels safe to utter the most treacherous thoughts or allow Tamlin’s silence to blanket him. Tamlin isn’t nearly as ambitious as any one of Eris’ brothers.

He glances at Eris, as if the answer would be etched there on the side of his face, somewhere along the height of his cheek bones or the strength of his handsome jaw. It isn’t. All he has is the memory of him one night, without warning or precedent, sitting beside him and doing… nothing. He’d come, sometimes with nothing and sometimes with a drink, spend the night and vanish. His visits are infrequent, but the more Tamlin thinks about it, the more he realizes that it’s the hard days that bring him here.

Hm, he ponders. Tamlin thought hard days were best spent alone.

The sound of rustling has his ear twitching. Faint, but still there. The culprit is well-versed in discretion, like the very best of spies, and the most human ones.

“Did someone say a coup?”

Eris sighs, palming his face. “Go away, Jurian. How do you keep finding us?”

“Well, it’s not that hard. You’re always here. I’m just going to squeeze,” the human says, stepping into the space between them. It’s not enough for any additional person, but he hopes to squish himself between the faeries and one of them will yield. Probably. Probably not, none of them were taught to do that. “Right in here.” Jurian keeps wiggling his hips against their shoulders for more space.

In the end, Tamlin slides over to make space for the human.

“Why the fuc—!” Eris hisses. “Get your filthy hands off—This bottle is worth more than your entire existence!”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme, I’ll tell everyone you’re staging a coup. Just give me sippy,” Jurian counters, leaning in close with puckered lips.

“Why are you trying to—” Eris bristles, the ends of his hair lighting up with the threat of a flame.

Tamlin turns his head, trying to hide his smile as Jurian distracts Eris with the threat of a kiss. In a moment of disgusted distraction, the human snatches the bottle and suckles at its teat with the voracity of a starving, abandoned kitten.

“You fucking idiot.” There is an attempt to snatch the bottle back, and Tamlin gets elbowed in the process. “That’s going to kill you, you moronic mortal!”

Tamlin sighs; Jurian’s body is turned towards him, making it easier for him to gently take the bottle away from him. He’s so much stronger that there isn’t much of a fight. It helps that Eris is pulling on his hair, too, trying to free this stray from his own idiocy. Tamlin sets the bottle on his side, where it’s an even bigger challenge to steal from.

“Whoa. Whoa.”

Jurian’s eyes are blown wide, the brown of his irises are nothing more than a thin ring around his pupils. The world must look so different to him, and Tamlin can only watch in fascination as the human’s hands flare around each of their chests—one on Tamlin’s left pectoral, and the other on Eris’ right one (which is quickly slapped away with a vicious ‘don’t touch me’).

The smile on Tamlin’s face lingers as he watches Jurian experience their world for the first time. Every sound and sight demands his attention, and the alcohol has him wobbling like a newborn. Tamlin laughs softly, and Jurian snaps his head towards him. He stares at Tamlin’s lips, fascinated by the source of the sound. Out of the corner of his eye, Tamlin sees Eris leaning forward to stare at him with mild disgust and… confusion?

“You’re…” Eris huffs, unsure of the words to choose, so he abandons the thought.

Jurian cups Tamlin’s face, getting close and staring at Tamlin’s mouth as if his mouth depended on it.

“Do it again.” Jurian’s voice carries a very heavy slur to it.

Laughter, especially coming from any of the Spring sons, without bitterness and vitriol is such a strange sound, even to Tamlin himself. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and watching the ridiculousness of Jurian who doesn’t belong here among creatures that loathe him. Yet Jurian always finds a way to amuse himself, and he seems so… alive. Is this what Eris meant?

Tamlin can’t force a laugh, but he chuckles.

Jurian’s eyes widen, and he gets closer, staring at Tamlin’s mouth and teeth. He sticks an exploratory finger in Tamlin’s mouth, and the surprise of it all has Tamlin laughing again. The human is strange—so strange.

“I’d bite it off if I were you,” Eris complains distantly.

But no. Tamlin is happy to indulge Jurian’s curiosity, opening his mouth and allowing Jurian to run his fingers over the points of his fangs, and the soft curve of his lip. It’s not his fault, he’s drunk. That was Eris’ goal, wasn’t it? Jurian simply beat them there.

“What sharp teeth you have,” Jurian breathes; his voice takes on a different intonation. “What a beautiful fucking mouth.” He has the mind to withdraw his hand from the beastly fae’s face, and he must not notice the way Tamlin’s breath hitches. “Can I put my cock in it?”

“Jurian!” Eris snaps.

“Alright.”

“Tamlin!”

The human hops to his feet, and clears the space between the faeries. Tamlin holds Eris’ gaze, finding the hollowness there—the growing emptiness in his soul that should have been filled with the love of family, friends and so much more. It was carved out of him as a child. Eris tries to fill it with ambition, pride and callousness, but the darkness takes it all. It’s a pain that no one else can see, hidden beneath enchanted emberworm threads, and all the privilege in the world.

Tamlin shares the same wound.

“You told me to stop sulking,” is all Tamlin says.

“That’s not—” Eris huffs, interrupted by the clink of Jurian’s belt hitting the ground. His amber eyes flicker to those scarred hands, fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. He watches as Jurian sways, an eager flush on his face. Jurian’s tongue is caught between his own teeth and there’s a furrow to his dark brow as he tries to figure out this frustratingly simple thing. The human is not particularly handsome. His hair is wild, and his chin carries a permanent stubble. His weak body carries scars a lot easier than faeries. Calluses, too. It occurs to Eris that he has never had a human before, but Jurian’s interest is not… in him. He abandons his complaints, glancing away to hide his own flush.

Eris has yet to decide if he wants to demand attention or simply… watch. He is learning so much about Spring’s youngest. “You’re really going to just let him use you? A human? Have you even fucked anyone before?”

Tamlin had begun to lean in, inspecting the erection presented to him. Jurian is a decent size, among the average of cocks Tamlin has seen in the barracks and baths. It smells of him, concentrated and musky, but not bad, not bad at all. He is in the midst of wondering what it tastes like—what would happen if he were to lick the glistening bead of arousal off the tip—when Eris’ question hits him.

“No, but I suppose as long as there are cocks going into holes, that’s the whole gist of it.”

“That’s not— nevermind.”

Jurian is the perfect subject, an unimportant human whose existence will be nothing more than a blip in the long, long lives of faeries. He is careless, and thoughtless, and willing to do anything like bed anything that tickles his fancy, including Clythia. (Worse, he’ll fuck behind her back, too.) Tamlin feels pity, seeing the way Jurian searches and searches for meaning, trying to find his place in this world that is decaying by the day.

Maybe this is how they all help each other.

Spring’s shapeshifter unfurls his tongue, longer than it should be, even for his species and curls it around the head of Jurian’s cock. He licks it, feeling the way the velvety skin pulls to reveal smoother, sensitive skin underneath. Jurian moans, body trembling under Tamlin’s curious exploration, and he has to hold onto Tamlin’s shoulders to steady himself. Salty-sweet bursts onto his tongue as he licks, then proceeds to suck on the top of Jurian’s penis.

Tamlin takes more and more of Jurian into his mouth, sheathing him completely. The length of him just breaches his throat, but nothing Tamlin can’t accommodate for. He stays there for a moment, listening to the symphony spilling from his lips. It’s beautiful, and Tamlin yearns to hear more of it.

(An errant thought bubbles up in his mind. He misses music, and so he finds it wherever he can.)

He begins to move, gripping Jurian’s waist with his large hands, and bobs his head on his cock. He keeps the human steady, controlling the pace no matter how much Jurian whimpers, moans and begs for more.

“ Ah, Tamlin! More, I need more.”

There’s only so much Eris can take, his own arousal tenting his tailored trousers, before he gets involved. He palms himself, adjusting his cock before he gets up, pressing himself against Jurian’s back. The thing is, he sees right through them both and their shared affliction. A soul can only go so long without being touched, and sooner or later, the desperation sets it. Jurian and Tamlin will never speak of their pain, but Eris can taste it in the air, shrouding the both of them wherever they go.

They have their own ways of pretending not to care, but he can feel it in the human’s body, the way he leans against Eris, trusting him to support him as his bones grow weaker by the minute.

“Touch me, fuck, both of you.”

No, it’s more than touch ; Jurian wants to drown in them. Eris knows because he has that very same thought, envy blooming in his chest. He wants to be in the middle, caught between Tamlin’s protective embrace and the heat of Jurian’s attention. Pale, slender fingers wrap around Jurian’s chin, and forces his gaze downwards where the rightful heir of Spring spears himself on his length. 

“Watch him. He’s doing you a service, stupid human.”

Eris pulls his trousers further down, exposing his ass. His free hand moves to Jurian’s mouth, replacing his moans with choked, wet sounds. He purposely opposes Tamlin’s pace, setting Jurian off-kilter and demanding that he focus on the sensations pulling him to and fro.

“Get it nice and wet, it’s all you’re getting.”

The saliva-slicked fingers slip between the crack of his ass, trailing further and further down. Eris finds Jurian’s furled hole. Each circle he draws against it elicits a soft moan from Jurian. Jurian alternates between trying to get more friction from Tamlin, and pushing back onto Eris.

So, this is what it feels like to be wanted?

Eris’ mask slips as he releases Jurian’s chin, pushing his index into him all while kissing his neck, and nipping his earlobe. His hands wander the expanse of Jurian’s chest, tweaking a nipple harder and harder, listening to the octaves go up. Tamlin seems to enjoy it; he’s moved to stroking Jurian and lapping at his balls. His patience wears thin, adding more digits into him as soon as he can. It must stretch and burn, but Jurian doesn’t complain. He simply yields to whatever the faeries want to do with him.

As soon as he can, Eris frees himself and lines his cock up against his loosened hole. Then, he pushes into him.

Jurian is tighter than any cunt Eris’ father has ever served him, and he runs hot. It feels like an embrace, and Jurian’s hands scrambling to take hold of him, burying his fingers into Eris’ auburn locks. The other hand is fisted into Tamlin’s hair.

“Fuck,” Eris hisses, biting into Jurian’s shoulder. “This is one way to shut you up.” His voice is low and husky.

“I wanna, Iwannacum,” Jurian whisper-pleads. 

A choked sound escapes him; Tamlin has stopped sucking him off. The Spring faerie stands before them, taller than both. His eyes have darkened with hunger, and he pulls off his shirt. The laces on his pants are easily undone, and he rids himself of all other items of clothing. Tamlin is a sight, and before this moment, Eris has never seen him. He’s broad, and a bulk of muscle, but under the moonlight he is beautiful.

Tamlin grips himself, stroking his monstrous length. “You think he can take us both?”

Jurian is not so far gone that he doesn’t realize what’s going on. His eyes widen. Eris’ length already fills him, and he can’t—he can’t take that.

“No, no, no, fuck, it’s not going to fit. Ah! Ah, fuck!”

The cock inside him withdraws, and thrusts back into him, cutting off any useless thoughts. 

“Are you sure? You’d really leave Tamlin out when he’s the one who took such good care of you? If he can’t get what he wants, why should you?” Eris’ finger traces the length of Jurian’s hardness, adding to the overwhelming cacophony of sensations bursting through his body. “He let us into his little space, and you exclude him? Naughty boy.” Eris grips him so tight, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“It’s fine. Don’t want to hurt him,” Tamlin grunts. He hides his disappointment well. He hides all of him better than any spy within their ranks. He starts to pull away, but Jurian stops him, lifting one leg to better expose himself to Tamlin and catching him by the arm. Eris continues thrusting into him, putting on a show for Tamlin. It’s mean, but Jurian is nothing if not perseverent.

“P-Put it in.”

It does no one any good for Jurian to get hurt, so Tamlin finds himself back on his knees. Tamlin licks into Jurian, coaxing him open as Eris fucks him liberally. He makes sure to get him as wet as possible, but it’s not enough. Jurian is only human.

“He needs more lube.”

“Use his cum,” Eris suggests without missing a beat. “Ready?”

Tamlin nods, and Eris shifts his angle, hitting Jurian’s prostate. The wet sounds of fucking as punctuated with Jurian’s helpless keening. Jurian grabs onto whatever he can, lest the ecstasy sweep him away completely. His face twists into an expression of sheer euphoria as his body tightens, then goes taut like a bowstring. Tamlin puts his mouth around Jurian’s cock, and begins to suck. It’s the last straw—it tips him over into a mind-blowing orgasm. He spills everything he has into Tamlin’s mouth, where the faerie gathers it all.

Cum and saliva are spit into his palm, and the mixture is worked into him alongside Eris’ thrusting member. Tamlin fits one, two, three fingers, but it’s not enough. Tamlin tugs at the edges of Jurian’s hole, as gently as he can without hurting him.

“Just fucking put it in,” Jurian snaps. “Whatever the fuck you think you’ll do, Clythia has,” he pauses, moaning. Even though he’s come, his erection has yet to wane. He can… he wants to come again. “She’s done worse so just fuck me and make me feel good.”

Worse?

Tamlin wants to ask, and Eris simply swears. Now isn’t the time for talks. Jurian has made his request, and Tamlin can only oblige. If it’s the one thing he can give him, then Tamlin will do it.

Eris stops moving to allow Tamlin to work himself into him. It’s a delicate task, and the fit is impossibly tight. Tamlin could cum just from this, and the sight of Jurian writhing in his arms is too much.

“Stop, Jurian, just—for a second.” Tamlin whispers, his touch a lot more delicate than Eris’. The struggle is etched into his face. He guides himself further and further into Jurian. At first, he didn’t think it would be possible, and Jurian’s protest made him hesitate, but no. Jurian really can take him. “Fuck,” he shudders.

“Heavenly, isn’t it?”

“Eris,” Tamlin warns, once fully sheathed inside Jurian alongside Eris.

“Yeah, alright,” Eris reassures, supporting Jurian’s weight in his arms and letting Tamlin take the lead.

The younger faerie moves, testing Jurian’s limits. He wants to give into his desires, but the last thing Tamlin wants is to hurt more people. He moves, and he listens; he’s attentive to all the tells of Jurian’s body, ignoring the way Jurian’s hot hole sucks him in.

“He’s looser now,” Tamlin says through gritted teeth. “Come with me? Both of you?”

He looks at Eris through his blonde lashes, and kisses Jurian’s cheek, all while upping the pace. Tamlin cranes his neck, reaching for Eris over Jurian’s shoulder, and he notices the hesitation before Eris closes the distance to kiss him. 

The kiss—The kiss is everything. Tamlin swears he could have cum with an act as simple as this. It tethers him to this life, and makes him feel more alive than anything has in years. Eris must feel it too because he deepens it, and turns their face to allow Jurian to nuzzle in. The human gets a kiss from each of them as they all come together.

***

“Should I take him to the healer?” Tamlin asks, shifting into a great wolf-bear, and curling around his small human. Eris’ coat is already draped over Jurian, but Tamlin takes extra precautions.

“No, he just needs some salve. I’ll fetch it for him.” Eris moves to leave.

“Eris.”

The Autumn faerie pauses. “What?”

There’s a bite to his words, and Tamlin can’t tell if it’s out of fear for what he’ll say next or if the moment’s over. Their fates won't change. Nothing has changed.

“Nothing. I’ll be here.”

[blackmoonowl]

𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨

Robert Joseph MacCready x reader

Contents: Your first Christmas out of the vault, and you try to cling to the past with a small celebration with your new wasteland partner.

A/N: This one was late chat, my bad.

"You old people really love your holidays, don't you?"

MacCready leaned against the outside wall of your home, cigarette hanging between his lips. For ten minutes he's been watching your sad attempts at decoration.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up," you grumbled in return as you 'accidentally' let a part of the Christmas lights fall, letting it drop onto his head, knocking his hat down onto the ground.

"Hey! Watch where you're swinging that thing!" MacCready scolded you as he knelt to pick it back up. "Where'd you get that thing anyway? Never seen it before."

"Picked it up while I was searching one of the grocery stores when I was looking for pre-war food," you replied with a smile as you stood on the ladder. "Lucky find."

"Found something actually useful? Could use a few extra caps in my pockets." You rolled your eyes at those words, looking down at him.

"Caps, that's all you ever think about, huh?" You replied, hanging up the rest of the lights.

"Mostly, I also think of you, sometimes." He showed you a cheeky smile, showing off his crooked and messed up teeth, worn down by the wasteland.

"Charming," you replied as you finished, stepping down from the ladder, landing on the ground with a small thud. You looked up at the lights decorating your humble new home. Not all of them worked, but it was better than nothing.

"Can we go inside now? Don't fancy freezing out here." The mercenary wrapped his arm around you, his head on your shoulder with a mildly annoyed expression.

"Oh, stop complaining, Christmas spirit and all that," you teased, gently smacking his hat down in front of his eyes as you walked past him towards your crooked front door.

"Never really had much with Christmas, not like anyone left me a gift," MacCready replied, fixing his hat and trudging behind. "Never had anyone to celebrate with. Well, not anymore, I suppose."

A small frown crept on your face as you rubbed his back. The mercenary's muscles relaxed under your touch, a sigh escaping his lips.

"You have me now... right?" You tried to cheer him up. "I know that doesn't fix anything... but it's something." MacCready didn't reply at first, opening your front door and shutting it after both of you had entered.

You prevented it from going further, your hands planted on his shoulders. MacCready looked at you.

"Sorry, I just..." he rubbed his face with his hand, trying to find the words to explain how he felt.

"Don't apologize, I understand. You've had it rough." You gently grabbed the back of his hand, gently pulling it off his face, wrapping your fingers around his rougher, calloused ones. "I'm just glad you're here."

"Thanks doll, you just know how to make me feel better." It was meant to sound like his usual flirting, but you could hear his emotions brewing beneath the surface as he leaned down to press a swift peck against your lips before pulling back.

"That's it?" You asked with a small smile on your face. You gently grabbed his face with both your hands, pulling him close again so you could kiss him, allowing the moment to linger.

MacCready's eyes lit up slightly despite his complex feelings. He moved his head slightly to kiss the inside of your palm before you pulled your hands away from him.

"Next year we'll celebrate with Duncan, I promise," you finally mumbled, and he nodded.

"Thanks, I'd like that," MacCready replied. There was an awkward moment of emotionally charged silence between the two of you before he spoke again.

"Still so damn cold around here, I'm gonna go get firewood if you make us some decent grub to eat." He grumbled as he tossed his hat onto the table before making his way out the door.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to make the best Christmas dinner you ever had," you replied, leaning on the old, worn-out couch you had somehow managed to drag into your house.

"That's putting the bar pretty low," he retorted his hand on the doorknob. His brief grin turned into a softer smile. "Still though... thanks, for everything. I really don't deserve you."

"Don't be ridiculous," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest as you shot him a scolding look. "I'd be dead without you, you know?"

"Guess that makes two of us." Was the last thing he said before disappearing out the door, wrapping his arms around himself to keep somewhat warmer. You on the other hand, began searching through your rations. There was leftover Radstag meat with wasteland vegetables like corn and tato's. There wasn't a whole lot to work with, but you were determined. Grabbing old, sharpened knives you scavenged from a vault, you got to work.

As you worked, MacCready walked back in with his arms full of firewood. He dumped it in the makeshift fireplace as he got to work, making a fire.

After rubbing the limited range of wasteland spices into the meat, you put it in an old pot before placing it above the fire, standing next to your partner.

"Smells good," he commented, placing his arm around you. "You might just convince me to like Christmas. Got a gift for me next?"

"Greedy much?" You huffed in response, bumping your hip against his, causing him to chuckle.

"Worth a shot," he hummed, smiling more genuinely now. "You're the best gift I could hope for, though. I've felt more at peace now than I have in years." MacCready walked over to the couch, plopping down and pulling you with him. You let out a small laugh as you were squeezed to his side.

"I mean it," he spoke, leaning on you. "I love you."

Glancing up at him, your smile widened.

"I love you too."

[explode-this]

.

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[sunshineram]

pothos :) (golden, n'joy, marble/snow queen)

[yogurt-boat-69]

So it seems like there are two possibilities:

One possibility is that the person who did the shooting changed his jacket right before the shooting- but into a different jacket that was remarkably similar (a puzzling choice! He brought two almost identical jackets with him? He changed his jacket to avoid detection into a jacket that looks very similar but has subtle differences? Puzzling!), shaved his unibrow (the better to shoot with, I guess?), then executed a plan so well thought out that the police had pretty much no leads, but was then caught (with both the murder weapon and a manifesto conveniently on his person! And the unibrow now regrown with long hairs) at a small town McDonalds five days later thanks to a random person recognizing him (and is a random McDonald's employee thinking you appear similar to a partial photo of a criminal enough to get you detained?)

OR

A police force with a budget bigger than many country's entire military, in a country notorious for having corrupt policemen who routinely lie and believe themselves to be above the law, realizing that it would be supremely embarrassing to have no leads, and likely facing immense political pressure to make sure the public doesn't think people can get away with this kind of crime, feeling motivated to peruse the many many records available to their giant counter-terrorism unit and using it to find someone who was in the vicinity, with an established online record of extremism, who has a jacket that is reasonably similar, and straight up planting some evidence on him so they can wrap this up with a neat bow and all of the ceo's who run the politicians who run our country can breathe easier?

As a random person on the Internet I will never find out the truth but some of this is not really passing the sniff test, and if there is one thing you can count on in this country it's that cops lie and cover their own asses. If he mysteriously dies in prison from "suicide" then we will know it's definitely not him

Edited to add: for those confused I do think it's possible Luigi is the guy from the hostel. It's just that based on the jacket and the eyebrows I'm not convinced he is the shooter. There was never anything solid linking the hostel to the shooting other than a similar (but actually different jacket)

[orcelito]

I guess I should start looking into apartments for next year. I don't know where I'm going to be working after I graduate yet, but I'll have a car by then, so it shouldn't matter too much. And I'm hesitant to move when I don't know where I'm going to end up... but I will be honest, I cannot live in this place for another year. They've increased the rent by a literal 50% since I started living here 3 years ago, the air conditioning doesn't work, I have to do laundry by *coin operation*, and worst of all there is no patio or balcony to speak of. I need outdoor seating!!! For my mental health!!!! Adding in the fact that it's far too cramped with all the furniture I got from my dad...

Yeah. Even if I only live there for a year, I Got to move.

Gonna be working on sorting through all the shit in my apartment, especially the boxes from my dad. Once I get a car, I wanna make it my personal project in the next year to cut down on the shit that I own. Go through my old clothes and donate anything that I Never wear and Never would. The goal being that by the time I do move, I want there to not be a fucking boatload of shit to move. There's still all this furniture but like. Eh. Ya kno. Still wanna make it better than it could be.

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x wife!reader

contents: fluff, suggestive. arranged marriage au. hints of slow burn. you like playing hard to get and he loves calling you his wife. 1.4k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ I had to deposit my messy thoughts somewhere and this headcanon post was the result.

part two here. ꒱

⭒ Arranged marriage with Sylus where he prefers to call it a “strategic partnership” as a means of appearances to flaunt that he has it all—an empire, riches, strength, influence and now a darling wife who waits for him at home. You’re not so much as a random choice, Sylus had been watching you from afar for a while and in exchange for his protection in the N109 zone he strikes a deal with you to play a simple role. You have every reason to be wary of him and know to keep your wits about yourself, but even you acknowledge that your chances are better with him. Though, if you asked him how he was so certain you’d agree to his proposal he’d admit that he wasn’t but he knew you’d consider it if he had an advantage over you.

⭒ He sets his terms and conditions—you reside in his humble abode, wedding ring always worn on your finger, and attend events with him as a pretty accessory on his arm to contribute to his image. But he’ll never admit that he actually enjoys your company at business functions that often feel dull to him. You are more than welcome to spend your days as you please so long you don’t cause him trouble, and that also means you have his black card privileges to spoil yourself rotten. Of course, he accommodates most requests you may have like sleeping in separate rooms if that’s what you wish (and redecorating because his furnishing decisions are quite bleak).

⭒ Luke and Kieran can sense that their boss feels something for you despite his nonchalance toward this little arrangement. It starts off small, it always does—Sylus takes note of your morning and night routine, your picky eating habits and has the chef make adjustments to your preference, how he sees you out in the gardens and come back with spring tulips to brighten the space and the next week he already replaced the slowly withering flowers with fresh ones. The twins whisper among themselves that he’s often less annoyed and irritated when you’re around, and their boss wouldn’t go through the trouble of being considerate unless he cares for you. It’s almost exciting for them both to witness a budding romance unfold before their very eyes and they do offer a helping hand here and there to keep things interesting.

⭒ Sylus thinks it’s adorable how you keep trying to resist him and that’s precisely the reason he loves seeking you out just to watch your resolve crumble under his touch. He finds you in the kitchen preparing a snack and cages you from behind with his hands planted on either side of you against the counter. “Hey kitten, I thought I’d find you in here.” You feel his hot breath down your neck as he pushes your hair aside just enough to lay a soft kiss on your shoulder. He chuckles when you comment that he’s being awfully touchy with you, and he purposely moves closer so that his chest is pressing against your back. “Perhaps I just can’t keep my hands to myself where you’re involved. Besides, you’re my wife now. I think I have the right to touch you whenever I like.”

⭒ You remind him that you’re his wife in title only, but that doesn’t discourage his flirtation and teasing as he allows you to nudge past him. He follows you into the common area and takes a seat on the couch, spreading his legs wide and taking up a lot of space. His gaze is settled on you as he pats his thigh and his lips curl into a smirk. “Come here, wife.” You naturally scoff meanwhile you place the plate of seasonal fruits on the side table and situate yourself closest to the armrest, taking a bite into a juicy red strawberry as you ignore his piercing stare.

⭒ For someone who always gets what he wants, Sylus isn’t used to being defied like this. And had it been anyone else his patience would wear dangerously thin, but he supposes that you’re a special exception because he seems to enjoy the chase and claiming its reward. With one small gesture, he drags you across the couch by a gravitational pull and you squeal when the swirling red easily turn and maneuver you so you’re forced to straddle him and your hands prop on his shoulders for support. “There, much better. Comfy? This is the best seat in the house.” His gaze locks with yours, and he thinks you huffing and frowning at him is simply cute. He firmly grabs your wrist with the bitten strawberry in your hand and lifts it to his mouth for a sweet taste.

⭒ “No fair… using your Evol against me like this.” You grumble under your breath as you gently trail your thumb from his chin to the corner of his mouth where the strawberry juices began to spill. Then an impulsive thought takes over and you pinch his cheek between your fingers, creating a sticky mess on his face. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. That’s for treating me like a sack of potatoes.” He chuckles once more, his hand falling on your hip and he gives you a light squeeze. “Oh, I do have every intention of fully enjoying my wife tonight.” And by that, he means taking you out for a joyride on his motorbike and feeling your arms wrapped around him tightly as the engine roars through the streets under the night sky and sinking moon. Sylus would never engage in any intimate acts you weren’t ready for, but he loves seeing you fluster at his suggestive remarks.

⭒ As the weeks cross over into months, you never imagined that you’d be spending so much time with Sylus outside of your agreed terms. He’s everywhere in every waking moment of your life even when he’s not there physically. You’re learning new things about him each day and you (begrudgingly) like being around him—even when he can sometimes be a playful bully toward you. When he’s gone for long stretches of time to deal with negotiations and other important matters in the N109 zone, you can feel your heart yearning for him but you’d never say that you miss him out loud when you think he's still toying with you. But with the way he cares for you like you’re both in a real and genuine relationship, it’s hard to know his true intentions and keep your feelings buried deep inside your chest for long.

⭒ You accidentally confirm that Sylus does harbor romantic feelings for you when you carelessly bring up your replacement in a lighthearted joke. You’ve never seen his face falter so quickly at your words as he averts his gaze for a moment to collect himself—a hint of vulnerability in his crimson hues. “I wouldn’t have found a new wife.” He shakes his head and tells you, his voice a little rougher than before. You don’t know what to say, but you manage a soft “No?” that reaches his ears. “No. I wouldn’t have been able to replace you, kitten. You’re it for me. The only one. No one could fill the void you’d leave behind.”

⭒ You and Sylus have kissed before, but this is the first time you’re initiating it. As you brush your lips against his, there’s a softness you never noticed. His hand slips around the small of your back and he pulls you close against him, returning your kiss with the same tenderness as though savoring the taste of you. You lean back after a moment, your palm meeting his cheek in a sweet embrace. “You know, I'm still getting used to the idea that I’ve fallen for you.” You can see him returning back to normal when he offers you a cocky smirk. “And yet here you are. In my arms, with your lips on mine. I think you’re not being entirely honest, my beautiful wife.” Sylus has waited a long time to hear those words from you but you don’t need to know that right now.