#rotted teeth

[psyrapmafia]

Uncouth (cropped)

art from May 7th. Freekazaur being just a regular everyday normal motherfucker.

[pangur-and-grim]

my mom was saying that I'm pretty unlucky when it comes to cat health, but I was saying that a lot of folk have issues like mine, it's just that they don't deal with them and then the cat dies.

she said "that's not true at all," and I had to list how many cats my aunt and uncle have burnt through in the same time I've had Pangur and Grim. and then I talked about an old friend who would never even name her kittens, because they always died within the first year. and of friends who've watched their cats deteriorate without going to the vet, while saying "there's nothing I can do." in mainstream culture, cat death is normal and invisible. it's just that a lot of time the cat dies outside of the house (whether through illness, accident, or predation) so people get to maintain deniability.

[ghoulbats]

well….it finally happened

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

JJK men but it’s your birthday!!

smau, teeth-rotting fluff, cursing, slightly suggestive?

Pt. 1 - Satoru, Suguru, Sukuna, and Choso

in honor of my birthday in three days! :)

[wtfforged]

i think about this one piece party panel so often i wanted to draw it

the panel ⤵️

[k1n1chswif3]

Kinich was a man of little words. And he believes actions meant more than words. It wasn't that he didn't want to express himself verbally, he just doesn't know how to.

That's why you were slightly surprised when he asked you if you could finish your commissions earlier today. You're not sure of what he was planning, but you hesitantly agreed.

You trust kinich with your life, and he does the same with his, and you're sure that he wouldn't do anything to put you and him in danger

So imagine your surprise and delight when you opened the door to your shared home, hearing pots scrambling in the kitchen and Ajaws complains and insults to kinich

You put down the trinkets you bought and walked into the kitchen, sniffling a laugh when you say kinich covered in a little bit of flour

His head wiped around before he put Ajaw in timeout, "I see your home," he acknowledged, "you came earlier than I expected" he trailed off

"Let me help?" You offered, entering the kitchen, and taking your spot beside him as you reached up to wipe the flour on his face, and then you turned back, you feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it, getting the pan ready

"Cupcakes?" You cracked a smile

"Yeah" he replied in monotone voice

For the next 30 minutes or mire, you and him spent time in the kitchen, enjoying each other's company

[uhbambii]

Sweet as Frosting

The Dellamorte villa was alive with warmth and laughter. The golden light of the kitchen illuminated the flour-dusted counter, where Rook stirred a bowl of batter with a bit more enthusiasm than technique. Her hair was tied loosely back, strands already falling free to frame her flushed cheeks.

Lucanis Dellamorte leaned against the counter beside her, his dark eyes brimming with quiet amusement. He was dressed in casual crow attire, nonetheless a bit intimidating to outsiders, though the frosting smudged across his sleeves made him look just a little less intimidating than usual.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice smooth and laced with mischief, “if you whisk any harder, the bowl might retaliate.”

Rook shot him a look, one brow arched. “I’m trying to make this perfect. You’re the one who insisted on cake instead of pie, so…” She trailed off, gesturing to the mess of ingredients around them.

Lucanis smirked. “Don’t blame me for your ambitious standards, tesoro. You’re the one who said you wanted to impress me.”

“Impress you?” Rook laughed, pausing to flick a pinch of flour at him. “Amorino, I think you’re already impressed enough.”

He tilted his head, watching her intently as though agreeing with that sentiment entirely. Then, without warning, he reached into the nearby frosting bowl, scooping a bit onto his finger and dabbing it across her nose.

“Lucanis!” she yelped, dropping the whisk and swiping at her face.

He was already laughing, the low sound resonating deep in his chest as he stepped back. “You’re much cuter when you’re messy, you know.”

“Oh, you’re asking for it now.”

Rook grabbed a handful of flour and flung it at him, hitting his dark shirt square in the chest. Lucanis stopped short, glancing down at the pale smudge on his otherwise pristine attire.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

But Rook wasn’t waiting for his retaliation. She darted around the counter, laughing as Lucanis chased after her with a determined gleam in his eye. They ended up tangled in a playful scuffle, smearing frosting and flour on each other’s faces and hands as they stole kisses in between bursts of laughter.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The cake batter was forgotten for a while, though neither seemed to mind.

It wasn’t until much later, after the cake was baked and half-decorated, and Rook was perched on the countertop with Lucanis standing between her legs, their foreheads pressed together, that she glanced at the clock on the wall.

Her heart sank. “Andraste’s ashes,” she muttered, pulling back.

Lucanis frowned, his brows knitting together. “What is it?”

“It’s one in the morning,” Rook said, sliding off the counter in a panic. “I was supposed to be home by eleven. Viago’s going to kill me.”

Lucanis caught her hand before she could rush away, his expression softening. “Stay,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “I can smooth talk Viago tomorrow, save you some trouble.”

She sighed, torn between the warmth of his touch and the dread of her brother’s wrath. Finally, she leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

“You’re impossible,” she whispered against his mouth before pulling away.

“And yet, you keep coming back,” Lucanis said with a smirk, watching her gather her things.

Rook rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to miss me too much.”

Lucanis chuckled, “try not to get scolded too much,” his gaze following her as she slipped out into the night.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The De Riva villa was quiet as Rook climbed through the open window of her room, carefully lowering herself onto the floor. She thought she’d gotten away with it, until the light flicked on.

Rook froze, turning slowly to find Viago sitting in a chair by the door, his arms crossed and his dark eyes narrowed. He was still dressed, his usual sharp crow attire despite the late hour, though his expression betrayed his annoyance.

“You want to tell me where you’ve been all night?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Rook scrambled for an excuse. “I was out with Teia,” she said quickly.

Another chair turned, and Teia spun into view with an equally unimpressed look. Her brown hair was loosely braided, and though her expression was softer than Viago’s, it was no less effective.

“Wanna try again?” Teia asked, arching a brow.

Rook winced. “I… was baking. At a friend’s place.”

“Baking,” Viago repeated, his tone flat. “Until one in the morning?”

“It’s… a very complicated recipe?” she offered weakly.

Teia exchanged a look with Viago, her lips twitching as though she were trying to suppress a laugh. Viago, however, didn’t seem amused.

“You know I don’t like it when you’re out this late,” he said, his voice softening slightly but still firm. “Anything could happen.”

Rook sighed, guilt creeping in. “I’m sorry, Vi. I lost track of time, that’s all. Nothing happened. I was perfectly safe at the Dellamorte villa.”

Viago’s brows furrowed, but his expression softened slightly. “Lucanis, huh?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Look, I’m not going to lecture you about seeing him. He’s… decent, as far as men like him go. Better than I expected, even. But, Rook—” His tone sharpened, the protective older brother coming through. “One in the morning? At his villa? What were you thinking?”

Teia gave him a small nudge, her tone gentler. “Vi, let her explain. She’s fine. Don’t make a scene.”

“I’m not making a scene,” Viago shot back, though his raised voice said otherwise.

Rook held up her hands, trying to de-escalate. “We were baking. Baking, Vi. I wasn’t sneaking off to plot assassinations or rile up the Antaam!”

“That’s not the point,” Viago said, standing now, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “The point is you said you’d be home by eleven. If you’re going to see Lucanis, or anyone for that matter, you don’t just vanish into the night like some teenager with no sense of responsibility.”

“Vanish?” Rook repeated, indignant. “I didn’t vanish, Viago. I was with someone you know and trust.”

“I trust him to keep his blades sharp and his secrets buried,” Viago said. “That doesn’t mean I trust him not to make a bad decision with my little sister.”

Teia sighed, cutting in before the argument could spiral further. “She’s not a child, Vi. She’s more than capable of holding her own. And it’s not like she’s going to take any nonsense from Lucanis or anyone else.” She turned to Rook with a wry smile. “But maybe let your brother know next time if you’re running late? He gets… dramatic when he’s worried.”

Rook couldn’t help but grin at Teia’s dry humor, though she turned back to Viago with a more serious expression. “I’m sorry, Vi. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just lost track of time, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”

Viago exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction. “Good. Because if you keep sneaking back at this hour, I might start sending messages to Lucanis about curfews.”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

His lips quirked into a sly smirk. “Try me.”

Teia snorted a laugh, nudging Viago toward the door. “Alright, that’s enough. She’s apologized. Let her sleep, papa corvo.”

Viago huffed but relented, though not without a final glance at Rook. “Just… take care of yourself, okay? And next time, send a message through a crow.”

As the door closed behind them, Rook sank onto her bed, letting out a breath of relief. Her brother could be a pain, but at least he wasn’t trying to put Lucanis on some sort of watchlist.

But the lecture was worth it, she thought with a smile, the memory of Lucanis’s flour-dusted grin still fresh in her mind.

———————————————————————————

I wanted to write something with a little bit of comic relief, sprinkled with a touch of protective older brother Viago (My headcanon for crow! Rook).

————————————————————————-

Inspo for story: @trialsofthedas

Rook: *sneaking in through their window after a night at the villa*

Viago: *turning in their chair and flicking the light on* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Rook: I was out with Teia?

Teia: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

[venbetta]

Full-time space captain, and full-time dad

(Context: they're hanging out in a pillow fort)

Space AU belongs to @himbo-in-limbo

[sydneighsays]

The Magnus protocol has awakened something unholy back up in me

Not that Jon being my favorite isn't unholy in the first place

[imreidswifey]

Late Nights and Little Secrets -Fluff-

Summary: After a grueling day at work, Spencer Reid is running on fumes, determined to finish a case despite his exhaustion. His girlfriend, Y/n—a shy yet supportive presence no one at the BAU knows about—surprises him with coffee and a visit to help him through the night.

A/n: This was so fun to write and I hope you enjoyed I love when people request so freely do so! This is very fluffy and cute so have fun! Warning Im new to this so its far from perfect!

Warnings:

Mild workplace banter: Light teasing from Spencer’s colleagues.

Mentions of exhaustion: Spencer is described as overtired and overworked.

Social anxiety themes: Y/n experiences some nervousness in social interactions.

———————————————————————————-

The fluorescent lights of the FBI office flickered slightly as you walked through the mostly empty hallway, the coffee cups in your hands threatening to burn your fingers through the cardboard sleeves. You weren’t used to being here, not in *his* world, but tonight, Spencer needed you.

He hadn’t said as much—he never really asked for help—but when you heard the exhaustion in his voice during his last check-in, you knew he’d be pushing himself harder than he should. That’s how he was: brilliant, determined, and entirely too stubborn to know when to quit. So here you were, a little nervous as you stepped into his orbit, ready to deliver the caffeine that might keep him from toppling over.

The bullpen was quieter than you expected, save for the sound of fingers tapping on keyboards and the occasional rustle of papers. A few agents glanced up as you walked past, but you kept your eyes down, focusing on your destination. Spencer was exactly where you knew he’d be—seated at his desk, surrounded by stacks of files and his ever-present cup of tea, though it was long forgotten and likely cold.

He didn’t see you at first, too engrossed in whatever case he was solving. His messy hair fell into his face, and his tie was loosened more than usual. He looked tired. No, *exhausted.*

"Spence," you called softly, not wanting to startle him. His head snapped up, his hazel eyes widening as they landed on you. The weariness on his face softened, replaced by something much warmer.

"Y/n?" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and relief. He stood quickly, almost knocking over a stack of papers in the process. “What are you doing here?”

You held up the coffee cups with a small smile. "Figured you could use a pick-me-up. I know how hard it is for you to stop and take care of yourself."

Before Spencer could respond, another voice chimed in from behind you. "Reid, who’s this?"

You turned to see a woman with dark hair and sharp eyes standing near one of the desks. Several other agents had stopped what they were doing to look at you, curiosity etched across their faces.

Spencer hesitated for a second, clearly debating how to answer. He wasn’t one to share personal details, not even with the people he worked alongside every day. Finally, he reached out to take the coffee from your hand, his fingers brushing yours in a way that made your cheeks warm.

“This is Y/n,” he said, his voice steady but soft. “My girlfriend.”

The word hung in the air for a moment, and you couldn’t help but notice the collective expressions of surprise. Apparently, you were something of a mystery to them, though you supposed it wasn’t surprising. Spencer wasn’t exactly the type to broadcast his personal life.

"Hi," you managed, feeling a little self-conscious under their scrutiny. "Nice to meet you all."

The dark-haired woman—who you now realized was the famous Emily Prentiss—was the first to recover. A sly smile curved her lips. “Well, Reid, I think you’ve been holding out on us.”

“I wasn’t—” Spencer started, but another voice, this one belonging to a tall man with glasses, cut him off.

“She’s real? I thought you were making her up!” the man said with a laugh, earning a sharp glare from Spencer.

You laughed nervously, unsure of how to respond. Spencer, ever the gentleman, stepped a little closer, his hand brushing against the small of your back. The subtle gesture was reassuring, grounding you in a space that felt overwhelming.

“She’s not made up,” Spencer muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation. He turned to you, his expression softening again. “Y/n, this is my team. Emily, Luke, Garcia, Rossi, JJ… and that’s Derek.” He gestured toward each person as he spoke, and they all gave varying degrees of welcoming smiles and nods.

“It’s nice to finally meet the person who makes Reid smile like that,” JJ said warmly, her words making Spencer flush a deep red.

You smiled shyly, your fingers tightening around the coffee cup. “He talks about you all a lot,” you offered, hoping to ease some of the tension. “It’s clear how much he cares about you.”

The room softened a bit at that, and you could feel the atmosphere shift. These people weren’t just Spencer’s colleagues; they were his family, and they were already starting to accept you as part of it.

Spencer leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Thank you for coming,” he said, his tone laced with gratitude.

“Always,” you replied, your smile widening. And as the team returned to their work, sneaking occasional glances at you and Spencer, you felt a little less out of place. For all his brilliance, Spencer needed someone to remind him to slow down sometimes, and you were more than happy to be that person.

[kingofattolia]

Honestly I cannot overstate how much seeing Hayden as TCW Anakin changed EVERYTHING. Matt Lanter's Anakin is a frat dude. He wears a backwards baseball hat and says vaguely offensive things without realizing, while being a fundamentally chill and outgoing guy at heart. Hayden's Anakin is... not that. His voice. His expressions. His physical presence. It's off somehow. It's just left of normal. It's completely unremarkable and yet deeply uncanny for reasons you can't quite describe. TCW Anakin was always a flatter, blander portrayal, but I don't think I realized until now what exactly was missing: the serial killer energy. The inarticulable conviction that SOMETHING unhinged is going on behind those eyes.

[tomatorabbitsticker]

Hori please if you’re listening, let aoyama’s going away party be carnival/amusement park themed and have Izuku sitting on the side being contemplative/clearly upset looking while everyone is playing ringtoss or something. And then have Katsuki come up to him with a crepe and tell him that they need to talk about what’s bothering him. Please please give us soft supportiveness.

[biscuit-boy-n]

Tail Wraps!

[littlejuicebox]

The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

-----

If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay. 

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality. 

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully. 

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin. 

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face. 

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige. 

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance. 

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell. 

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf. 

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him. 

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring. 

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last. 

[angeleternity]

[uhbambii]

Warm Evenings

Lucanis Dellamorte stretched out lazily on the plush couch in the sitting room of his family villa, the soft glow of the evening sun streaming in through the large windows. His dark hair was slightly mussed from Rook’s fingers combing through it absentmindedly earlier, and his deep brown eyes, rich and warm as espresso, glimmered with a rare tranquility.

Rook lay draped against his chest, her head nestled just below his chin. Her slight frame fit perfectly against him, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a soothing counterpoint to the muted sounds of the villa beyond their cozy cocoon.

“You know,” Rook murmured, her voice soft and laced with amusement, “Viago and Teia were at it again earlier.”

Lucanis chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that made Rook smile. “Flirting like their lives depend on it?”

“Always,” she replied with a laugh. “Viago was leaning against the doorway, reciting some ridiculous poem, and Teia just ate it up. She’s pretending she doesn’t care, but we both know she loves it.”

Lucanis grinned. “You’re right. Teia would gut someone for saying she has a soft spot, but the moment Viago walks in…” He trailed off, tilting his head to look down at Rook. “I don’t know how they manage to keep a straight face half the time. Maybe they think we don’t notice.”

Rook smirked, tracing lazy circles on his chest with her finger. “They’re not exactly subtle.”

“Subtle?” Lucanis scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “They’ve redefined the word ‘obvious.’ Honestly, I’m tempted to start flirting openly with you just to give them a taste of their own medicine.”

Rook raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “Oh? And how would you do that, Lucanis Dellamorte?” Her tone was playful, teasing.

He smirked, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’d start by dramatically throwing myself at your feet, professing my undying devotion.”

Rook burst out laughing, the sound light and infectious. “You’d never!”

“I would! And then I’d serenade you from the balcony. Viago would have to unwillingly listen to his little sister be serenaded.”

Her laughter only grew, and Lucanis grinned triumphantly, clearly pleased with himself. “Mark my words, uccellina, One day, you’ll even find me reciting sonnets in the middle of the market square.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, her voice still thick with laughter.

The gentle warmth of the moment wrapped around them like a soft blanket. Slowly, Lucanis’ breathing evened out, and his arms grew slack around her. Rook tilted her head slightly to look up at him and found his eyes closed, his lips parted as he slipped into a peaceful sleep.

Carefully, she shifted in his arms, wiggling free without waking him. She paused for a moment, watching the way the evening light highlighted the sharp planes of his face. He looked so peaceful, so at ease. Smiling softly, she padded off to the kitchen.

——————————————————————————

As Rook padded into the kitchen, her thoughts swirled with the comforting idea of freshly brewed coffee. She reached for the kettle and set it on the stovetop, humming softly to herself. The soft clinks of cups and spoons echoed in the cozy space as she moved about, the domestic rhythm soothing and familiar.

Just as she began scooping coffee grounds into the pot, two warm arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her gently against a solid chest. Lucanis rested his chin on her shoulder, his dark eyes still a little hazy from his nap, but his lips curved into a small, mischievous smile.

“Caught you,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Trying to sneak off and leave me alone. Shame on you, uccellina.”

She grinned, shaking her head. “I was making coffee, not abandoning you. Big difference.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, clearly unconvinced. “You could’ve woken me, you know. It’s cruel to leave me cold and alone while you’re in here, hoarding all the warmth.”

Rook laughed softly, placing a hand over his where it rested on her waist. “You were too peaceful to wake up. Besides, I thought you’d appreciate the smell of coffee more than me nudging you.”

Lucanis tightened his hold slightly, swaying them both gently from side to side. “Fair point,” he admitted. “But now that I’m awake, I think I should help. Or, at least, supervise.”

“Oh, you’re supervising now?” she teased, tilting her head to glance at him. “You don’t trust me with coffee-making? Afraid I’ll make a Neve brew?”

“You wound me,” he said dramatically, his dark eyes sparkling with humor. “I’ll have you know, I can make an excellent cup of coffee. In fact, I’m better at it than you and definitely Neve.” He chuckled.

“Big words for someone who’s holding me hostage instead of grabbing the sugar,” she shot back, smirking.

Lucanis laughed, his breath warm against her ear. “All right, all right. I’ll grab the sugar.” He reluctantly released her, stepping away to rummage through the cupboards, his tousled hair falling into his eyes. Rook watched him for a moment, her chest tightening with an inexplicable wave of affection.

When he returned with the sugar jar, he set it on the counter and leaned against it, watching her as she poured the boiling water into the coffee pot. “You know,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, “this is nice.”

“Making coffee?” she asked, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Being here. With you. Doing something so… normal,” he said, gesturing to the scene around them. “I’ve had enough chaos in my life to know how rare this is.”

Rook paused, her hands stilling for a moment as she looked at him. His dark eyes held hers, earnest and warm, and the weight of his words settled over her like a soft blanket. “I think I needed this too,” she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with the same tenderness.

He smiled, the corners of his mouth tilting upward in that roguish way that always made her heart flutter. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers as he reached for the cups. “Now, let me prove to you that I’m more than just a charming face. I’ll finish the coffee, and you can sit there looking adorable.”

Rook laughed, swatting at his arm. “Adorable? That’s your grand romantic line?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” he shot back with a grin, deftly pouring the coffee into the cups and adding just the right amount of sugar and cream to each. He handed her a cup, their fingers brushing briefly, and for a moment, the kitchen fell quiet, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

As they stood there, sipping their coffee and exchanging soft smiles, Lucanis suddenly reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the line of her jaw as he looked at her with an expression so full of warmth it made her knees weak.

“I hope you know,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “that these little moments with you? They’re everything to me.”

Rook felt her cheeks flush, but she met his gaze steadily, her lips curving into a small smile. “Lucanis…”

“No, let me finish,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’ve been in places— the Ossuary… where I didn’t know if I’d ever feel… this. This kind of peace. But you—you’ve given me that. You’ve given me so much more than I ever thought I deserved.”

Her heart swelled, and she reached up to rest a hand on his chest. “You deserve all of it,” she said softly. “And more.”

Lucanis’ smile widened slightly, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. “You’re going to make me fall even harder for you, Rook,” he teased gently, though his tone was thick with emotion.

“Good,” she whispered, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Because I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the smell of coffee wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Eventually, Lucanis chuckled and stepped back, lifting his cup with a wink. “Now, let’s see if my coffee-making skills really are better than yours.”

Rook rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t falter. “If they’re not, I’m making the next pot.”

“Deal,” he said, clinking his cup lightly against hers. “But I warn you—I plan on winning this argument. And every other one after that.”

“Dream on, Amorino,” she teased, laughing as they wandered back to the sitting room together, the warmth of their coffee and their shared love making the villa feel like home.

———————————————————————————

Cute little cuddly moment, while also bullying her brother…. Yes!

Uccellina = little bird/little crow

Amorino = Masc. Ver. Of darling

Also deserved, Teia and Viago have some… open dialogue

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