#spell bound rook

[mxxnmxxn9875]

In the book Spell Bound by F. T. Lukens, Antonia says “this relationship is over” and then later, Rook keeps getting embarrassed because he says things along the lines of “I’m the genius in this relationship,” which implies he uses ‘relationship’ romantically, so I guess Antonia and Fable could’ve been together

[dilatorywriting]

Hello! May I request 94. With Rook?

I certainly wouldn't mind the smoot if you think it fits into what you write-

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 1.2k

Prompt 94: "Don’t act innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago."

🌶️ Warning for Mild Spice

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

“Just a bit of chase!” he says.

“The thrill of the hunt can be so fun!” he says.

Except now you’re covered in sweat and doubled over panting like you’re going to go into cardiac arrest. Because Rook’s idea of ‘oh, just a little run around, je promets!’ involved nothing less than a full fucking sprint through the wooded areas of the campus—over hill, and under hill, and godyou were so out of shape.

You gasped into your knees, bent over in anticipation of just, I don’t know. Death? Vomit? All of the above?

“Ah, don’t tell me you’ve given up already, mon cher!” the aforementioned demon cooed from somewhere in the trees. In the trees! Like a literal, freaking hunter of old, and not your coddling boyfriend smiling all pretty when he says ‘just a bit.’ Absolute bullshit. You wanted a refund. “We’ve only just begun!”

“It’s been—” you gasped, swiping a furious hand over your dripping brow, “—an hour! You fucking masochist!”

“A true predator knows best that a subtle, steady approach is always the most satisfying, mon petit lapin,” he hummed, voice echoing discordantly over your head. “And how could I not take my time, when the reward is bound to be so sweet, hmm?”

“What reward?” you snapped. “Me doing this at all is the reward!”

The blonde’s trilling laughter curled through the air like the tinkle of a windchime. Light, and airy, and pleasant. Which was deceptive. And entirely unfair.

“Ah, but mon favori. I doubt you could ever say no to a little death, hmm?” he cooed. And the continued, with an air of faux consideration. “A bit for you, and then perhaps a bit for me. And then a bit more for you—”

Fuck his poetry. It was going to be a big death. A literal death. With rigor mortis, and decay, and a bloating corpse if you didn’t have a chance to collapse into a puddle in the next five minutes. Normally Rook’s sweet sonnets and romantic ramblings were something you found quite endearing. But surely anyone would be pushed past their Cutesy Bullshit Tolerance after being chased like a bat out of hell for the past literal hour. You felt woozy, and wrong footed, and like maybe that muffin you’d snagged for breakfast might be in the process of making up its mind to come back up to say hello.

“You have to run, petit lapin,” that chittering voice called again. “That’s the whole point.”

“No!” you snapped, stomping your foot like a toddler. “I give up! I’m a dumb rabbit! A lame rabbit! A rabbit with no legs! Just—get me already!” you shouted into the leafy canopy.

Silence.

You glared up into the kaleidoscope of greens, eyes narrowed as you searched the shadows. Surely he was somewhere. Somewhere close. You just had to—

And then you were crashing forward with an inelegant screech—a familiar, gloved hand pressing into the skin at the back of your neck and the other twisting into your uniform jacket to push you down into the dirt. And then Rook was sitting astride your hips, looking down at you with a sharp, brilliant gleam in his emerald eyes.

“Ah, mon pauvre lapin perdu,” he sighed, all faux sympathy, and shifted to lean forward so that he could grin into your flushed face. “Whatever shall I do with you, hmm? Rolling over to show your belly so readily. Certainly that’s far from safe.”

There was a tight, warm, whoosh in your gut. A twisting thing that you knew far too well at this point. And it spelled nothing but bad things.

You raised your chin as best as you could, meeting that toothy smirk of his head on, and then—

Ah. Nope. That had been the muffin after all.

Your face went green and you rolled onto your side to barf chunks of banana-nut-nonsense all over the grass.

.

.

“Mon cher, how can you ever forgive me?” Rook wailed, dabbing a soft, silk cloth against your heated forehead, nearly in tears. “I have failed you so horribly! So completely! I deserve to be cast from your good graces! Cursed to errer seul! Mutilé par des chiens! Jeté en enfer! Forcé de se repentir pour toujours!—”

“Enough, please,” you whined, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’d rather you just, I don’t know, got me a glass of water.”

“Right away!” he chirped, shooting to his feet and darting out the door and down the hall. He was back hardly a moment later, depositing a clean cup into your hands and plunking a curling, purple straw into the center of it.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, leaning forward to take a sip.

“Anything at all for you, mon cher!”

This was almost worse somehow.

“Would you cut it out,” you sighed. “It’s fine. Really. Shit happens.”

He stared up at you from where he was kneeled on the floor at your side with the largest, most doleful eyes you’d ever seen. Like a kicked puppy dog had a sad, sad child with, like, an even more pathetic, more kicked, kitten. You jabbed at him with your foot.

“And stop that!”

“Stop what?” he asked, blinking those stupid, stupid green eyes at you.

“Acting all innocent!” you complained. “You literally had me pinned underneath you, like, five minutes ago!”

“I did, didn’t I?” he hummed, sounding almost pensive. He reached up to tap at his chin, like he was chewing over a thought. “And I wasn’t even able to keep my promise, was I?” he lamented, deflating.

“What promise?” you frowned.

“For a bit of mutual demise,” he sighed. “Une petite mort.”

You felt heat crawl up your cheekbones and all the way to the tips of your ears. Because this had been some whole, elaborate setup, hadn’t it? Something that you’d only agreed to because he’d seemed so, ah, enthusiastic. And then you’d gone and barfed up banana chunks and ruined the whole thing.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Rook’s head shot up and he reached out to snare your hands in his.

“Non, non, mon cher!” he gasped. “This was hardly your fault to speak of! It is I and my poor planning that ought to make recompence,” he said.

And then, a terribly acute sort of brilliance came over his face. Like a lightbulb went off in his brain. Those green eyes went sharp with focus. He seemed to roll the his words around on his tongue, as if deciding exactly how they ought to taste when he let them fall back out again.

“And recompense I shall make!” he chirped, determined and shifted so his chin was resting in your lap. He sent you a coy little grin that had shivers racing down your spine.

“I literally just threw up,” you complained.

“This will certainly help you feel better,” he offered.

“That’s not the point!” you squawked. “Shouldn’t I—I don’t know—at least brush my teeth or something first?”

“Forgive me, mon petit lapin,” he laughed against your thigh. “But last I checked, I don’t think your mouth has anything do with this. And besides,” he crooned, reaching up to press a firm hand against your shoulder and help ease you down to the mattress below. “That was from overexertion, I’m afraid. Not illness. And I can promise, mon cher, that this time, you won’t have to bother putting any work in at all~”

.

.

[felassan]

Cliff notes from the latest blogpost:

BW now want to shift their marketing focus to showcasing higher level combat

"Stalwart Warrior, deft Rogue, spell-slinging Mage"

Warrior "deftly combines devastating melee with style and flair - all to inflict maximum pain on your enemies" [source]. It revolves around close range combat + defense

Skills, Traits, Runes, and Abilities are customizable to best suit different playstyles

Loadout has slots for Abilities, accessed from the Ability Wheel. Abilities are unique to each class. Customize them by spending Skill Points. The entire Skill Tree is refundable, Skill Points can be redistributed

Loadout selection before each battle is meant to be strategic

Loadout can be swapped anytime except during combat

Rook also has 3 equippable runes. These have a variety of functions e.g. control, utility, additional damage

The 3 Runes can be cycles through & activated in combat

Warrior has some Abilities that deal fire damage

Rook eventually gains access to Specializations. these grant powerful unique Abilities and a unique Ultimate Ability. Ultimates are the most powerful attack and follow the theme of that spec e.g. Champions (Grey Warden-themed spec) have Warden's Fire, which launches a devastating incendiary flurry of searing strikes that ignite enemies

Build the Ultimate Meter by doing damage to enemies. It won't fill fully during small fights as Ultimates are designed to take out lots of enemies or be used on tough bosses

Champion is the best "Specialization Area" for killing darkspawn

Info on the 9 specs

All 3 classes can jump, dodge (at any time, even mid-attack), light attack & heavy attack. These can be chained together. Attacks can be triggered while sprinting and/or jumping

Light attacks do quick damage and build small amounts of stagger. Heavy attacks are slower and build more stagger to the enemy. They also remove Armor Barrier faster. Both can be charged to deliver a stronger blow by holding down a button e.g. heavy attacks can be charged while using a staff to unleash a magical wave of energy

When enough stagger is built, the enemy is more vulnerable to all incoming damage, bonus damage and Rook can perform a special Takedown. Build stagger by landing hits on an enemy

Each class has ranged attacks, blocks, and parries (if timed properly with the right weapon). Ranged attacks remove Shield Barrier faster

Each class has 2 distinct weapon sets. You can swap seamlessly between these during battle

Yellow bar: Armor Barrier. Blue bar: Shield Barrier. Lavender bar: Stagger meter

Ability Wheel functions: pause fights, control companion Abilities, tell companions to attack specific enemies individually or together, target enemies to view enemy vulnerabilities & resistances, set up Ability Combos

Darkspawn are weak to fire

Abilities can also be bound to shortcut keys

Some Abilities apply buffs or debuffs; Area of Effect abilities help defeat large groups; there are crowd control abilities; some Abilities have coordinating effects to serve as a Primer or Detonator for strong combo attacks executed with companions

Controlling the field of battle is important

Davrin has Heroic Strike (ability) which applies the Overwhelmed debuff to enemies, increasing their stagger and making it easier for Rook to do a Takedown

Davrin has Death from Above (ability) which sends Assan to attack enemies. this is good against distant enemies

Abilities require class Resources (Mana, Momentum, Rage) to be used. The Resource is primarily built up by dealing damage with basic attacks, and secondarily in a class-specific way: mages regain mana passively over time, rogues build momentum by dodging & parrying, warriors build rage by taking & dealing damage

Sword-and-shield build warriors can do Shield Throw Volley. if you land a heavy attack on a Shield Throw return, the shield ricochets, taking out multiple enemies. this sequence can repeat up to 3 times, causing a ring of damage around Rook. this tactic is good for swarms and distant enemies

Warriors have Grappling Spear (ability), which pulls distant enemies closer

That blogpost focused on Warrior. More to come on the other classes before launch

A separate spotlight on progression will also come before launch

[source]

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Never Beating the Big Brother Allegations

Vil + Epel + Leona, it's a little shippy between Leona and Vil, Leona does call Vil, Princess and is just generally Flirty but it's up to you whether you want to take it as him being a little facetious or if it's Real. Also tw for blood/injury Epel has a bloody nose and is a little banged up (not angsty dw) Also I know Lions don't purr, Leona does, deal with it.

--------------------------------------------

"Hey, take it easy Crash, sit down." Leona couldn't help but smirk a bit at the look Epel gave him.

Epel was sitting on one of the infirmary beds, the rest empty save for him, holding a cloth with ice under his nose as he leaned forward a bit, the blood from his nose staining it a dark red. His brow was cocked, challenging Leona for a moment. Despite how ridiculous he knew he sounded when he spoke, he decided to anyways.

"It ain't that bad, this weren't the first time I done somethin' like this. I'm fine, I hit ma head 'nough times when I was younger t'know this ain't nothin' t'worry 'bout! We didn' have t'lug ourselves all the way t'the goddamned infirmary for a nosebleed and a couple bruises....and my name ain't Crash."

Leona snorted a bit and poked Epel's head, causing the younger one to recoil a bit and make a disgruntled noise in response. "It is until further notice. I've never seen anyone bail as hard as you did, or come out of it with something as minor as a nosebleed. Even with the cleaning spell Ruggie casted, you look like you rolled around in a pig sty..." He paused and sniffed the air a bit, nose scrunching a bit. "...and smell like it too."

Epel shot him a dirty look, about to speak again when the tell tale clicks of heels on tile became apparent to both of them, Leona's ear flicking at the same time Epel groaned.

"You told Vil??"

"What am I, your babysitter? Obligated to tell your mom what happened?? No I didn't tell Vil, Rook was probably being a creep again and reported back to your housewarden."

"VIL AIN'T MY MOM."

"And you're not my child, but for Seven's sake Epel, did you really think that news of you being sent to the infirmary wouldn't reach me eventually?" Vil stood in the doorway of the infirmary, hands on his hips, and brows knitted. "What have I told you about the way you fly? You're far too reckless, this was bound to happen eventually." He tsked softly, walking briskly over to the bed and grabbing Epel's face gently. He looked over him for a moment, then at the rest of his body and sighed.

"Rook told me you took the disc to the face and ended up spiraling out of the air. I was worried it was worse. You're very fortunate to have come out of your crash as well as you have." He sighed softly, and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to Leona.

"You-"

"Not taking your shit. This kinda stuff happens sometimes when people decide to do more than pretend they're someone else as a hobby." Leona gave Vil a shit-eating grin, teasing him a bit.

Vil shook his head. "That's not what you're in trouble for! You weren't going to tell me that my underclassman ended up in the infirmary!"

Despite Vil getting into his personal space a bit, Leona stayed where he was and just smiled more genuinely, though still arrogant. "Who said that? Pretty sure I just said I didn't tell you, not that I wasn't going to. Besides, Crash was sayin' it's no big deal, and anyone who can take the kinda hit he did and walk away's got some pull on their say. I believe him."

"My name is NOT Crash!!" Epel stood up from the bed, swaying a tiny bit, which did not go unnoticed by either of his upperclassmen, both of them reaching out...well, Leona, pushing him gently back onto the bed, and Vil, ready to offer a helping hand, the blonde shooting the other a bit of a dirty look. Epel groaned a bit and moved the towel away from his nose. "See, it's mostly stopped bleeding now anyways, it wasn't a big deal, it isn't a big deal and BOTH A YA'S HAVE GOTTA STOP ACTIN' LIKE AHM SOME BIG BABY!"

Leona acted faster than either of the Pomefiore residents had time to react, slipping his arm around Vil's shoulders and turning him away from Epel, (who was about ready to swallow his hands as a means of shutting himself up), and utilized his secret weapon. A deep, rumbly purr caught Vil off guard as Leona very lightly bumped his face against Vil's hair.

For the second time in less than a minute, Vil was surprised by the actions of his fellow schoolmates. Such a ...tender sound coming from Leona was baffling enough he allowed himself to be walked out of the room.

Once out of the room, Leona let go of Vil, giving him another, signature cocky smile, though softened by a bit of embarrassment he tried so hard to conceal.

"Alright Princess, I know all that must have been stressful for you, why don't you go and find something that'll help you forget about today."

The corner of Vil's lips kicked up in amusement.

"Acting would be a good skill to have right about now for you, wouldn't it."

Leona's ears flattened, he touched the back of his neck awkwardly and looked to the side, his tail flicking slightly, though between his legs. "Shut up."

"Is that how you speak to princesses?" Vil smirked, his hands on his hips as he looked up at Leona, teasing him.

Leona huffed a bit, amused. "Nah, none of them are worth talking to." He waited a beat, his sliding sideways to meet Vil's once more. "But I guess that's on me for calling you one, when everyone already knows you're a queen."

He chuffed softly, placing one hand on his hip as Vil crossed his arms in a lightheartedly 'angry' way, though he was smiling at the beastman.

"I'll make sure Epel gets back before curfew, don't worry. The kid's got spunk. He'll be right as rain in the next hour or so. Now I was serious, go do something else, anywhere else." He huffed a bit, matching Vil's playful energy as his tail flicked.

"Augh, fine, if you insist. If he's late, it's you who's going to be in trouble."

Leona waved Vil off somewhat dismissively, but they both knew it was light hearted. He immediately dropped the whole facade as he walked back into the infirmary, expression difficult to read as Epel looked at him a little warily.

"What did you-"

"You owe me."

Epel groaned, moving the towel away from his nose. "What do you want? Or is it Vil askin' by proxy?"

Leona moved to the side, preparing another cloth, wetting it with clean water and holding it out to Epel as he took the sullied one away.

"Whatever you've got on your plate for lunch, if it looks appealing, I'm taking some. Just for the week."

Epel took a moment to register what the new cloth was for, before gently wiping at some of the blood that was still left on his face and eyeing Leona warily. He sighed, when his upperclassmen seemed serious about the matter.

"Alright. I guess that's doable." He sighed, finally relenting to Leona's care as they tried to confirm his nose wasn't broken.

------------------------------------------------------

"Your lunch sucks ass Crash." Leona's voice made Epel startle slightly in the cafeteria, the freshmen whipping around in his seat to look up at Savannaclaw's housewarden.

"I wha? Huh??" He looked back down at his food for a moment, his brows furrowed. "What's wrong with my food?"

Leona snickered a bit and lightly flicked Epel's head. "You responded to Crash as your name. Enjoy your food I guess."

Ruggie was quick behind Leona, nabbing one of Epel's bread rolls and taking a bite, snickering as well. "Damn, guess you really are Crash now."

Epel's cheeks flushed a bit at being called Crash in front of his first year friends, but realized his fate was already sealed as he saw Ace's expression out of the corner of his eye...and that he would more than likely be left alone lunch wise for the rest of the week, getting off easy on his punishment.

-----------------------------------------------------

As always, it's not beta read lmao

lmk if you wanna hop on the tag list:

@galaxies-and-gore @fluffle-writes

[emmg]

first line or page or whatever

I was tagged by lovely @starfleetteddybear

And now I'm tagging everyone I can think of because you all already know I adore being a fly on the wall, continually being fed by yalls lips @heylittleriotact @lavenderprose @caffeinatedmunchkin @aldisobey @fenharel-babe @lafaiette and everyone else (seriously, I am so serious, so super serious, freaking tag me to read it)

I don't write in order so this isn't technically "first page or first sentence" or whatever, but it is the first thing in the document. It's not edited or anything, so yeah

I'm not working on anything in particular at the moment, but this is from a Emmlich x Rook creepy, not-happy, definitely morbid one-shot

---

Her hand dangles from her wrist like an afterthought, a relic of some forgotten desecration. Hours ago, it was ordinary: warm, alive, unremarkable. Now, the skin stretches taut and shiny, the color of old wax, fissured at the knuckles, crisp and lifeless. The nails are beginning their exodus, retreating one by one, and the bones beneath flex with a quiet, unnatural creak, like a poorly oiled hinge. Each movement elicits a sound, a faint, unbearable crackle, as though the hand itself is trying to speak, trying to beg for stillness. 

Her arm betrays her further, holding onto the hand as though it remains unchanged, blind to the ruin at its end. The arm insists there is nothing wrong, and for a moment she wishes she could share in its delusion. 

"You have done well, Bellara. Thank you for bringing her here. You may leave," Emmrich says, his voice drifting through the fog of her horror. 

She blinks, her gaze slipping downward. His feet. They look normal. His voice, so calm, so kind, as if nothing in the world had shifted. But when he touches her hand she sees the wrappings around his fingers, the frayed edges of fabric, and something inside her mind explodes, splinters into a thousand jagged shards. 

The sound that escapes her lips is not quite a scream. Her lungs are too hollow for that. It is a keening, a whimper, the noise of a wounded animal, ribs already shattered, being struck again. She cannot look at his hand, and yet she does, helpless, dragged to the sight as though by hooks lodged in her skull. Even as the glamour rushes back around him like a second skin, summoned hastily to soothe her panic, she sees it. Beneath the wrappings, beneath the illusion. She sees what lies hidden, what should never be seen. She does not need to see it clearly. She has seen it before.

She imagines the layers of herself peeled away in the same manner: skin slipping like the rind of a fruit plunged into boiling water, sloughing off to reveal raw muscle, wet and glistening. The muscle stripped clean, sinew unwound like thread, veins plucked and discarded, the bone beneath polished to a gleam until it is no longer hers, until it is no longer anything but a thing that must be hidden, bound, wrapped. Her hand, no longer her hand, becoming his hand. Becoming him.

She stumbles backward, choking on her terror, pushing, pleading, begging—away, away, away.

"Oh, no, no," Emmrich murmurs, soft and quick, catching her wrist before she can fully recoil. His fingers press into her, their texture wrong despite the illusion of skin. The glamour is seamless, his hand as it once was: warm, familiar. It looks right, yes, but the feel of it betrays him. 

"My darling, my darling," he coos. "It is but a malfunction, nothing more. I will fix it." 

And he does. She does not know how, does not understand the spell he weaves, the threads of magic pulled like a puppeteer’s strings. She only knows the sensation: the slowing of time as though the world itself hesitates to watch. The veins in her hand reinflate, blood coursing sluggishly, obediently. The yellowed, parchment-thin skin blushes pink again, fat plumping her fingertips, the flesh regaining its softness. 

The medallion stops its maddening thrumming at last, silent after being stirred to life by Bellara’s cursed artifact. Silent, but still there, still pulsing faintly against the edge of her mind. 

Emmrich smiles at her then, the smile he no longer has, the one the glamour keeps for him. It is a lie, but a convincing one. She realizes, distantly, that she has stopped crying. 

"It just needs a few adjustments," he says, lifting the medallion from between her breasts to rub its surface idly, reverently, like a craftsman tending to his finest tool. "Simple as that."

[hydrangeapartridge]

Manfred's first magic duel (EmmRook short fic)

Summary: Manfred is challenged to a duel by another apprentice.How will it go?

(Spoilers for the end of the game)

Part of my collection of post-game dometic EmmRook stories. Cross-posted on AO3 or found on my blog

“You’ll what ??” Emmrich almost spat his tea and Rook’s eyes grew as wide as saucers when Manfred made his announcement.

“Duel” The skeleton simply repeated, in the same way he would inform them he learned a new levitation spell.

In all fairness, duelling was a rather common practice in the Necropolis; friendly combats that helped watchers keep in shape and ready to fight undead or other enemies. Aside from being knowledgeable, Nevarra’s necromancers were also experts in combat, as Emmrich proved in his days with the Veilguard.

“No absolutely not. It’s too dangerous” Emmrich’s tone was final, yet Manfred protested, made bolder than he was only a few years ago from his growing independence and his schooling at the Necropolis.

“But you do it” He pointed out.

Rook felt like she was watching a teenager arguing with his father. It would be sweet if it wasn’t escalating. And if she didn’t end up dragged into the argument.

“Rook?” Manfred turned to her, almost begging

She turned to Emmrich and he crossed his arms over his chest, unable to hide his upset state, but gave a small sign of his head for her to give her opinion.

“It could be dangerous” She started and Emmerich nodded approvingly. She didn’t dare look his way as she continued. “But less advanced trainees duel so... why not? It’s not worse than hunting demons down the chambers of the Necropolis?”

Emmrich’s jaw almost comically dropped. “Assignements are a totally different matter” He replied, looking at Rook like she just gravely betrayed him.

She frowned. Her husband could have a flair for the dramatic when he was upset. And now he was arguing with her instead of their magical skeleton son. She did not like where this was going.

“Emmrich. Deep breaths” She gently suggested, like she often did when she found him overreacting.

He sighed but did as he was told, while Manfred kept looking between the two of them, oddly silent. “ Right. We’ll discuss this again tomorrow after sleeping on it. Now go read in your room” He instructed, and Manfred complied, waving them goodnight before he climed the stairs.

When Emmrich was sure that the spirit wouldn’t hear them, he sat closer to Rook on the sofa.

“Darling, when teaching Manfred discipline, we shouldn’t openly disagree in front of him” He said, though with a warmer tone than expected, taking Rook’s hand in his. He caressed her pulse point with his thumb in a soothing gesture alike to an apology for his earlier irritation.

“Sorry, but honestly you were being a bit unfair” Rook replied, placing a tender hand on his thigh. “I understand where you’re coming from but Manfred’s right, you did duel and still do. Every Necromancer does. He must already feel different from the other students so we shouldn’t aggravate him. Plus, he’s a spirit of curiosity, he’s bound to want to try new things”

Emmrich listened intently as Rook exposed her point. “Also, too many restrictions could push him to disobey you or to hide things from you. Better to support him and keep a close eye on how things go.”

Emmrich sighed. He knew that she was right. Rook had always been a voice of reason; this was part of what made her a great leader for the Veilguardn and a quality he loved deeply.

He ran a hand over his tired features.

“I worry too much don’t I?” He chuckled and Rook smiled.

“It means you care. It’s adorable”

“Davrin often said I should give Manfred more independence. He was right, and so are you”

Rook’s hand pressed a little more against his thigh. “ So … you’re not upset with me for openly disagreeing with you? ” She still felt illegitimate sometimes when it came to Manfred’s upbringing, even after so long.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course not darling, I never really was. My ego was just a little bruised when Manfred turned to you for permission like he could bypass me”

“Every child does that” Rook pointed out with a small private laugh before she placed a small loving peck on her husband’s lips.

- - -

On the following day, Manfred was overjoyed to learn that he was allowed to duel the student who challenged him.

Emmrich offered to help him prepare for it. Which turned out to be quite necessary. They set up in the living room, moving the coffee table aside to have more space.

“Now, first with the rules. Do you know them?” Emmrich asked, palms joined in full lecture mode.

“If can’t move or thrown out arena, lose” Manfred offered in his still approximative hold of the common tongue.

Well, that was a start.

“This is partly true” Emmrich nodded. “And tell me, how do you plan on defeating your opponent?”

“I burn him” Manfred declared with a shrug.

Rook snorted, but went back to her book when Emmrich turned to her with a chiding look. No doubt Manfred was not a spirit of compassion; directly thinking about burning his adversary. He did love fire spells for some reason. Rook could understand; fire was simple. Effective, but not subtle at all.

Emmrich pinched the bridge of his nose. “No Manfred, fire spells are prohibited, as well as any spell directly hurting the body like blood magic, or decaying spells”

Manfred deflated. “What can use?” He wondered, as if his arsenal of spells revolved only on those forbidden.

Emmrich joined his hands in front of him again, his bangles singing a song that Rook loved. “Good question. Wind spells for one, Ice spells too, Ligthning but not too high voltage” He enumerated. “It takes finesse to be an accomplished duelist you see. It is not just about brute strength. You need a strategy of some sort, quick reflexes and thinking to take advantage of your opponent’s weaknesses”

Manfred listened intently as Emmrich taught him a thing or two about classic duel strategies. The more Emmrich explained and then demonstrated, exchanging a few friendly spares and spells with his disciple, the more Rook watched fondly, grinning wide from how much fun they seemed to be having.

- - -

The day of the duel soon arrived. The light atmosphere of the large room full of marble statues dedicated to duels contrasted with Emmrich’s solemn mood. He barely slept the previous night, and had been firing last minute advices at Manfred nonstop since breakfast.

Rook was at her husband’s arm, pleased and supportive. She felt a bit nervous too, admitedly. She wanted Manfred to have a good time, and she trusted he could win. He was a talented little magic skeleton. But Emmrich’s worry was a bit communicative so she hoped everything would go smoothly.

The place reminded her of that one time when, urged by Emmrich’s colleagues, she had agreed to duel her lover for fun. The memory made her smile. She remembered the way Emmrich fought, like he was dancing with her, all elegance and precise strength.. In theory the odds of wining hab been in her favor, but Emmrich was more familiar with the duel rules and knew her so well he could spot her weaknesses easily. She was a strong mage, confident and unpredictable. but she hadn’t realized how much he had observed her techniques when back in the Veilguard. They managed to each win a long fought round, but decided to stop there, all sweaty and breathless, ending up quite dishevelled and eager to go back home to each other to diffuse the growing tension between them. The other watchers had praised the impressive show they gave, as well as their fair play of ending in a tie.

And what a night it had been then when they had found themselves dancing between the sheets afterwards.

Emmrich placed one last encouraging pat on Manfred’s shoulder before he would leave to get in position in the arena, the sound bringing Rook out of her reverie.

The skeleton looked to his mentor, determined as he announced. “I win. I make you proud”

Rook’s heart positively melted as she watched Emmrich’s expression impossibly soften with affection. She swore she saw the shiny glint of a tear in the corner of his eye.

They waved at Manfred’s figure walking away as his opponent, a flashy young human with fiery red hair entered the arena. Given the heraldry on the large gold pendant he ostentiously wore, he was surely the offspring of an old and influential noble family.

Emmrich was visibly stressed, paling a little. “I hope he won’t hurt his bones. It is a painful process to put them back in place”

Rook took his hand in hers so he'd stop biting his nails. “He will be fine. The referee will stop them if things gets too dangerous”

Luckily, today’s referee turned out to be Vorgoth, whom both Emmrich and Rook trusted and respected.

Once the fighters were in place, they saluted, and Vorgoth signed for them to begin.

Encouragements but also jeers were heard from the crowd as the two apprentices exchanged spells that were easily countered by their shields, cautiously gauging their opponent.

Manfred kept up easily, but didn’t take initiative to incapacitate his adversary, so it left the other mage free to do as he pleased. With a hit of his staff to the ground, the human apprentice conjured a slippery layer of ice on the floor before him. He then quickly cast a wind spell that Manfred couldn’t block fully, and which made him flinch and trip, the poor skeleton landing on his coccyx.

And so Manfred lost the first round.

“Damn it” Rook clicked her tongue, already very invested in the fight. “It’s okay Manfred, you’ll bounce back!” She encouraged once the arena had been returned to its original state for the spirit to get up.

Beside her, Emmrich was alarmingly quiet. His eyes were fixed on Manfred’s opponent, his expression dark and irritated. Rook only ever saw him look that way to nobles he particularly despised.

During the small break between the rounds, the red-haired apprentice took upon himself to round the arena, bowing and waving at the crowd like he owned the place.

“Yeah, see how I tripped that thing? It didn’t see it coming!” He boasted, raising his arms to encourage a group of fangirls that screamed his name like lovestruck geese. Rook felt her blood start to boil in her veins. Most watchers were very nice and tolerant to Manfred. Most but not every watcher...

Her fist clenched at her side as the young mage passed them, making sure to stop in front of Emmrich.

“How did I do Professor?” He asked with a smirk, the taunt so unsubtle in his voice that he sounded ridiculous.

“Passable” Emmrich only said, standing straighter than ever and giving him his best unbothered look before he pretended to be very interested in the state of his nails.

Vorgoth motionned for the red-haired mage to get back into position, and when he turned his back to them, Rook barely felt a very subtle hint of a magic she knew was Emmrich’s before the noble’s son’s foot hedged and he fell face first onto the ground.

A roar of laughters rose from the crowd as Manfred’s opponent quickly rose, his face red from anger and embarassment. He did not have time to question what happened, for Vorgoth urged him to join him, least he be disqualified.

“He should tend to that weak left ankle” Emmrich commented lowly, only for Rook to hear, earning a low chuckle from her. For all his kindness, Emmrich could be mean and vindicative, even borderline petty when truly upset. And he hated bullies "I have no respect for show offs" He whispered to his wife, trying to justify his childish action when he saw the judging glint in her amused gaze. She loved when he was being mischevious, enjoying it even more for how rare of an occurrence it was.

“You reap what you sow…” Rook commented with a shrug, making Emmrich smile tightly.

Then the second round started.

The red-haired mage’s bruised ego made him more aggressive. More dangerous but also more sloppy. The crowd was wild, urging the mages to fight dirty, so far from the expected etiquette and chic of the Mourn Watch. Ah, youth…

Manfred blocked and dodged each brutal but predictable blow with ease. Had his opponent been more observant, he would have noticed the subtle change in hue of Manfred’s shield as the spirit used each attack aimed at him to charge it with energy.

"Get him Manfred!” Rook shouted as loud as possible, joining in the frenzy of comments from the crowd, making her husband start from her rowdy behaviour.

Upon hearing her words, Manfred hissed in determination and released all the energy accumulated in his shield in a thundering shockwave that sent his opponent flying, then crashing at the very edge of the arena.

Loud clapping and impressed whistles were heard as the crowd easily changed favourites, except for the group of fangirls too busy checking if their champion was alright. Turned out he was, save for a few bruises to his body and to his large ego.

“Oh dear, that was bright but a bit of an overkill” Emmrich commented lowly, barely able to hide the huge grin splitting his lips.

Vorgoth announced Manfred as the winner of the second round, and Emmrich politely clapped, trying to appear less invested than he truly was. For Rook, her husbands’s reactions were almost as much an entertaining show to watch as the actual duel.

With the two opponents now at a tie, the stakes of the third round were high, and the ambiance of the room became electryfying. Vorgoth had to calm a few overly enthusiastic students and order them to step back from the edges of the arena before he allowed the final round to begin.

“You little…!” Manfred’s adversary swore before he released a blast of burning greenish light.

The attack surprised Manfred, for it ate away at his shield, wild and stubborn. The little skeleton was forced to focus hard to dissipate the growing fire that hindered his vision more than it burnt him.

“Veilfire!” Emmrich gasped, outraged “Fire spells are forbidden, that’s suppose to include veilfire!’” He loudly disapprouved, stepping closer to the arena, but stopping when Vorgoth turned in his direction in a silent warning not to interfere.

The apprentice took Manfred’s distraction as an opportunity to charge with a hand on hand attack, swinging his staff hard at the skeleton. Manfred managed to block it with his own staff, but pure force was not his strong point given he had no muscles to back it up. His hold on his staff faltered under the strength of his opponent, and the spirit’s weapon was thrown to the ground out of his reach.

A panicked whimper escaped Emmrich whose hands reflexively covered his mouth in a way that reminded Rook of unpleasant memories. Internally, she urged Manfred to get a grip and do something. She knew he could. He was brave and clever and strong, contrary to what his adversary might think.

Under the crowd’s eager eyes, Manfred’s fists started glowing blue with an ice spell, and before his bones got hit with a second blow of his opponent’s staff, he punched him square in the jaw. Unelegant but deadly effective. The redhaired human fell to his knees and Vorgoth calmly announced that the skeleton had won.

After recovering from the shear surprise of the action, Emmrich and Rook exulted.

“Bravo Manfred!” Emmrich clapped and Rook whistled alongside the excited crowd. ��You rock little man! Serves him right!’ she thought she heard someone say, and the thought that Manfred could have friends here to support him made her heart squeeze in her chest.

“That’s cheating!” The defeated apprentice accused, massaging his jaw as he slowly got up.

“So is using veilfire” Emmrich commented loudly from outside the arena, sending Vorgoth a dark glare.

“Technically only his spell collided with your face” Vorgoth declared, looking down onto the smaller human.

The redhaired boy protested but Vorgoth’s deep voice interrupted him. “Humbly accept your defeat young apprentice”

The younger mage lowered his head and bolted away from the room, followed by his weeping fanclub.

Manfred happily joined his caretakers outside the arena, a spring to his steps. “Yeah! I won!”

“What a quick reaction Manfred! That was unexpectedly clever! But where did you learn to do that?” Emmrich asked, more enthralled than skeptical about this unusual move that he never suggested during their training.

“Did like Rook do with bad guys!” Manfred excitedly replied and Rook flushed.

She recalled she had a bad habit of punching people in the face back when she was irritated by having Solas in her mind and overstressed from the prospect of the world ending.

“Well I suppose all examples can be beneficial” Emmrich chuckled, bringing Rook closer by her waist.

He then turned to Manfred again, a warm smile on his lips. “I am so very proud of you”

If skeletons could purr from happiness, Manfred did right there and then.

[cassandraclare]

Q&A Chain of Thorns — continues!

starlightblackstairs asked: I was wondering; why did no one ever free rupert if they knew ....

of him being trapped at chiswick? 🥹 it seemed like jesse knew that tatiana trapped his father there during that whole showdown scene but no one ever went back to help free rupert until julian and emma centuries later.

Because none of them did know he was trapped at Chiswick. Reread the scene — Chiswick is never mentioned.

What Lucie learned when she summoned Rupert was that he was not in the ordinary place ghosts go—

…she was all that was holding Rupert Blackthorn here on this earth. She could feel the starry void trying to pull him back, trying to fling him out of this world and into the other. It was taking every bit of her will to hang on… What had happened to Rupert? What binding was there on him, that was not present with other ghosts? Was it that binding that now tried to pull him away from the courtyard?

And this was confirmed by Tatiana herself— “You have been bound, bound for so long, bound in the shadows where even the other dead cannot see you. Belial promised that as long as he kept you there, he could bring you back.”

Rupert was also aware that he was in an unusual situation, we see this in his conversation with Jesse—

“If you’re a spirit—how was I a ghost for so many years and I never saw you?” 

Rupert raised a hand as if he could touch his son’s face. “Your mother made sure of that,” he said. “But Jesse—we have little time.” He was right, Lucie knew. He was slipping away from her, already growing more indistinct around the edges. His fingers were turning pale, translucent, the edges like smoke. “I was asleep,” Rupert said, “and have been awakened, but only for this moment. I died before you were ever born, my child. Yet after death, I have seen you.” 

“My mother said—you were bound in the shadows—” Jesse said haltingly. 

“I could not return as a ghost on this earth,” said Rupert gently.

He was fading faster now. Lucie could see entirely through him, see the stones of the Institute, see Jesse’s stricken face. “Yet I dreamed of you, even in my endless sleep…”

Rupert knew he had a resting place of sorts (he says to Tatiana— “I was drawn from my resting place by the cry of a Shadowhunter in battle. One who needed my help.”) But Rupert did not understand—or was unable to express—that he was specifically bound to Chiswick House.  In fact, he says he is not a ghost on this earth at all.

Lucie and Jesse’s understanding was that Tatiana—with Belial—had done something strange to keep Rupert from fully passing over into death. In the Shadowhunter world, typically the death of a magic user would cause all their charms and spells to unravel as a natural process. (We saw this happen when Malcolm was killed in TDA, and Johnny Rook, too.) If it had been just Tatiana binding Rupert, they might have thought that would have happened, but Belial was named, too. However, once both Belial and Tatiana had been killed, there was no reason for Lucie or Jesse to think that any spell would remain to bind Rupert. They would assume that Rupert was freed by the destruction of those who had bound him. They certainly didn’t know that his binding was woven in with Benedict’s complicated and equally unique house-protection spell—that was a special case, and highly unusual—so unusual that it evaded detection for decades even when the house was searched multiple times.

Sadly, once Lucie lost her special ability to command ghosts, they lost the one remaining avenue they would have had to reach Rupert, who could not appear as a ghost voluntarily until many years later, when the binding spell was beginning to deteriorate. And remember, Lucie, Jesse and James can all see ghosts, they've all been to Chiswick, and they've never seen Rupert. They've no reason to believe that even if he was a ghost, he'd be there.

It is indeed tragic that they were not able to help Rupert sooner. They just didn’t have all the information they would have needed to make that happen.

[fartasticdurge]

A Bone to Pick

Bellara's at it again, with a new serial to tickle your funny bone. But you don't have to believe me, listen to what other fans of the serials have said so far: "Bones, Groans, and Puns Galore!" "Bone-Tickling Humor and Pun-Filled Lore!" "Bone Dry Humor, Pun Wet Wit!"

Watch Rook struggle to navigate her relationship with Emmrich and get romantic advice from the other men in her life.

You can find the rest of her serials here.

Rook was walking towards the kitchen of the Lighthouse, wondering if she could get Lucanis to finally make some desert like he’d promised. Rook hoped she would hang out with Spite while Lucanis whipped something delicious for them and hopefully enough time would have passed to make it socially acceptable to get in the same room with Emmrich. If he wasn’t avoiding her again.

Emmrich had gone to discuss whatever book they were talking about in their stupid book club, so Rook was left to entertain herself for a couple of hours. She wasn’t even sure why he would go in the first place as he would come back talking her ear off about magical and anatomical inaccuracies and how some of the members would react to his suggestions. When he would talk to her, lately, it seemed like he would rather do anything else.

Granted, knowing Emmrich meant that he would likely go into a long description of what the right version would be, and likely everyone wouldn’t even care about the right, to begin with.

Harding almost made Davrin join, given some of the titles they talked about in their silly little meetings, heroic adventurers with gruesome fights and steamy nights. Rook thought it was hilarious how neither of them seemed to notice how they craved stories about people doing what they did. Granted, some of Rook’s companions didn’t have the steamy nights to keep them company, so she supposed, in a way, she could understand where they were coming from.

Rook, however, did have the steamy nights. Well, she used to. Emmrich was busy with many things, and lately, it seemed like he was constantly trying to become busier. Everyone needed some random rune, spell or corpse whispering and if she were honest, it started to bother her how little attention she was getting, but she could hardly get him alone to broach the topic.

More often than not, Rook would walk into his chamber after a long day of killing Antaam and Venatori and whatnot, hoping to let off some steam, only to find anyone from Neve to Lucanis, to Davrin and even Taash ask all sorts of questions about all his fields of expertise.

Rook groaned at the memory of Emmrich practically running off to his book club just moments ago as she reached the doors of the kitchen, finding Davrin and Lucanis laughing with an open bottle on the table. That, at least, was bound to be interesting, considering how awful things stood between them for the past few days.

“No, no. I had to kill a man once who did magic on nugs.” Lucanis said as he leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms. “A hundred little pigs with hands came after me. All together in one big, writing ball. Have you ever tried to stab a ball of angry nugs? That was a bad job.”

“I’ve got a better one.” Davrin said as he leaned forward in his chair. “You know what the Wandering Hills are named for?” He asked without waiting for a reply. “it’s a monster. Big heap of red tentacles that crawls around, devouring everything in it’s path.”

If nothing else, it was nice to see Davrin and Lucanis sitting together, their laughter echoing softly as they swapped stories so engrossed that they didn’t even notice Rook enter the room.

“The damned thing was a hillside. Size of a village. You try fighting a hill with a sword some time.”

“How did you kill it?” Bewildered, Lucanis asked, his voice barely above a whisper, a tremor of uncertainty in his tone.

“Lamp oil. Everything stank of burned tentacles for miles, after.”

“If the two of you were going to open a bottle, you might have told me, first.” Rook teased, her laughter echoing through the room, making her presence known.

“It’s not a good bottle.” Davrin spoke, the firelight catching his slightly unfocused eyes, revealing his inebriation, a wide, goofy grin stretched across his flushed cheeks.

“Might have to pick up a supply. I have a feeling we’ll need it.” Lucanis said as he looked at her. His cheeks were suspiciously flushed as well, but he was nowhere near as drunk as Davrin. Then she remembered Spite. Of course, he wouldn’t let loose like that.

“What about you, Rook? What’s the worst job you ever been on?” Lucanis inquired.

A few missions from her days with the Shadow Dragons sprang to mind. And then to a few others before she joined them, though she didn’t particularly like to think about those. The most recent memory, however, brought a bittersweet smile to her face, prompting her to recount the tale of Varric, Harding, and Neve’s first encounter with Solas, a story filled with unexpected twists.

A hush fell over the room as Davrin, emboldened by the shared stories, finally seemed to find the courage to ask, his voice a low murmur. “So what’s up with you and Emmrich?”

From the second she sat down, Rook could practically hear the questions brewing in the room, a symphony of curious voices just waiting to erupt. She would usually handle them better than Emmrich seemed to be, particularly around the age difference.

“What do you want to know?” The ruby liquid swirled in her glass as she asked, a daring glint in her eyes, challenging them to a daring exchange.

Davrin, startled by her candor, shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow as he considered his next question. “Well… how come you’re not with Emmrich now, helping him with his bone magic?”

Rook shook her head, a chuckle escaping her lips, as Davrin’s relentless puns continued, each one more groan-inducing than the last.

“Yes, how come you’re here with us and not somewhere in his tower?” Lucanis asked.

“I’m not always in his tower.” Her cheeks flushed slightly as she mumbled a little sheepishly.

“Really?” Davrin asked. “We’ve hardly seen you in the kitchen for a glass since you two started boning.”

A wide, warm smile stretched across Lucanis’ face, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as a mischievous glint sparked within them. A wave of warm, hearty laughter washed over the room from him, dissipating the tension she’d sensed and replacing it with a comforting energy.

“So what should I do?” With a loud thud, Rook slammed her empty glass onto the table, a final, sharp sound that punctuated her question. The wine, a cheap, vinegary blend, was truly atrocious, but Rook was certainly feeling its effects by now — a dull headache and a loosening of her tongue.

“You should go and just tell him what’s up. Men love women who take initiative.” Davrin emphasized, his voice booming through the room, commanding attention. The sound of his words resonated on some level with Rook, like thunder in a silent sky, igniting a spark of inspiration, and it was better than anything she had tried so far, so she was inclined to heed his words.

“Rook, you’re the leader of this group. Just tell him what to do. I can make sure he fulfills his contract. Or he could become the contract. Up to you.” Lucanis added.

“Yeah, just tell him to dust off the old bone and wield it like you do your sword, warrior!”

By this point, Rook has had enough of their shenanigans and puns about her and Emmrich and decided to up the stakes with a challenge.

“Okay, how about we play a round of Diamondback? If I win, you promise to stop bothering Emmrich with those bone jokes,” Rook said, casting a glance at Davrin. “And whatever it was you said to him,” she added, turning her gaze towards Lucanis.

“I never said anything.” Lucanis replied. “Well, I never did. Spite did.”

“Deal.” Davrin said, his laughter echoing in the kitchen.

A heavy, wine-soaked haze hung in the air, the sharp tang of cheap alcohol mingling with the lingering cheesy scent of Lucanis’s Cacio e Pepe. Rook stared at her hand, the cards pinched between her fingers as if they were about to spring to life and bite, her mind a blur of time. A Black Queen smirked back at her, and the Gilded Serpent lay coiled beside it — promising misfortune rather than salvation. Lucanis leaned back in his chair, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed grin, his Silver Blade and Storm Knight spread neatly before him. But it was Davrin who sealed the match, his final card sliding onto the table with a soft, inevitable finality: the Diamondback itself — a flawless win, the game’s namesake gleaming from the worn card face.

Rook’s eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened, but there was no denying defeat. She almost forgot what she agreed to do, until she saw Davrin’s smile sharpening, dark eyes glittering as he leaned forward. “Well, well, Rook. A promise is a promise.” He tapped the edge of his winning card, voice silk and steel.

“You’re going to march in there and show Emmrich who’s the boss. And you have to tell him exactly what I told you to say. I’ll know if you won’t.”

Lucanis let out a low whistle, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Rook groaned, tossing her losing hand onto the table. “I swear, one day I’ll wipe that smug look off your face.”

But even as she scowled, there was a fire lingering in her—the kind that only Emmrich could put out, so the prospect wasn’t really unappealing. She just hoped she wouldn’t forget the words, as Davrin would most certainly ask Emmrich about it later.

Rook took in a deep breath and pushed open the door to Emmrich’s chamber, her footsteps a loud contrast to the darkness of the room. She couldn’t see anything, and even as she had her arms outstretched, she stumbled against something heavy, almost falling, her lack of balance not helping, and she cursed the blasted object.

“Son of a Fereldan bitch!”

She heard movement from up top and a familiar voice calling out to her from the darkness. “Rook? Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me. Who else would walk into your tower in the middle of the night?”

She heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase getting closer to her, and she took a deep breath, her mind already scrambling to remember the words exactly.

“There you are. I have a bone to pick with you, mister!”

She glared at Davrin when he told her to say that, his suggestion grating on her nerves, yet the moment the words left her lips, a wicked cackle erupted, surprising even herself. She was about to continue her speech, but as Emmrich ascended the last few steps of the grand staircase, his presence filled her vision, she forgot all the words. The familiar, musky scent of his cologne combined with the refreshing chill of the room’s air left her breathless, her mouth agape in silent shock.

The long, bone-white gown Emmrich wore, ruffled at the neck, swayed slightly as he moved, the candelabra in his hand throwing flickering shadows. The neatly pressed collar added a touch of elegance, and the vibrant green bow made him resemble a present, tempting yet unattainable to her touch, given how he avoided her as of late.

She didn’t realize she was walking towards him and bumped into the heavy object again—the mortuary table she realized, cold and smooth beneath his fingertips—its presence now clear in the light, the same table he used for his corpse whispering with the dead.

“Maker-forsaken piece of–”

“Rook, are you inherited?”

“No.” Rook said quickly, her hands clasped behind her back as she fought to stay upright, the dizzying swirl of the walls making her unsteady.

With a heavy sigh, Emmrich placed the candelabra on the mortuary table, the green magic swirling around his fingertips banished the darkness, revealing the harsh Fate light from the windows. She wondered, her breath catching, if the light played tricks on her eyes, or if she truly saw the magnificent, sculpted lines of his body beneath the thin nightgown, a longing to touch him burning within her.

“Rook!”

The sudden, piercing sound jolted her from her thoughts. Startled, she turned to see Manfred, his bony hands clapping together with a sharp, echoing noise. The tension in the air broke, filling the room with a sudden jolt that shattered the awkward silence and her wandering thoughts.

“Ah, Manfred!” Emmrich called out to him. “Kindly procure a selection of refreshments and convey them to Rook’s room, if you please.”

“Rook!” Manfred hissed in agreement.

Emmrich guided Rook outside of his room in silence, his fingers barely grazing the small of her back every once in a while, which ignited the fire within her for more of his touch. But it all seemed unimportant, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she did something to make Emmrich push her away. Her mind conjured images of potential situations where she might have offended him and she grimaced at the thought of her latest offence of showing up all demanding in his room when he was clearly sleeping.

“Are you angry with me?” A tiny, hesitant sound escaped Rook’s lips, barely audible as a question.

“I’m not.” Emmrich said, his voice tight and his face a mask of forced calm that didn’t quite mask the tension radiating from him as they entered her room.

“You are.”

“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.”

The words stung more than anything else he could have said. She would have preferred Emmrich’s explosive anger to this unsettling silence. In the vastness of her small room, she felt the magnitude of their disconnect. The walls seemed to expand, stretching to hold the weight of her emotions. Every corner echoed with the absence of his voice, leaving her feeling alone, mirroring the void in her heart.

Regardless, always the gentleman, he carefully helped her to the couch, the soft fabric yielding beneath her weight. Rook thought he might at least sit with her and talk, but as he turned to leave, she instinctively grabbed his cotton nightgown sleeve, the cool fabric a contrast to her own feverish skin.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Rook blurted the words before she could stop herself.

Emmrich’s eyes widened, a silent gasp passing through his parted lips before he pushed them close together, gathering his composure once more. “I have not.”

Rook chuckled at his expression, despite the gnawing pain in her chest. “You’re awful at lying.”

“I thought it best to give you some room.” Emmrich settled onto the edge of the couch, his words soft and measured.

“I don’t want any room.” Rook said as she drew closer to him. She stopped inches away, noticing his brow furrow and his arms pull into his lap–a subtle shift that spoke volumes. “But I guess you do.”

“Rook, I thought some time and space between us might give us both a chance to reflect on our relationship.”

“Ok? But why?”

His lips pressed together in a slight grimace, a frown etching itself onto his face as he searched for the right words; one hand absentmindedly went to his ear, tugging at it gently before falling back to his lap, the silence punctuated only by the faintest sounds of his inner turmoil. Rook imagined herself grabbing his hands, her own trembling slightly, and kissing him hard to silence the frantic thoughts that whirled in her mind, but even in her drunken state, she sensed he needed space, further amplifying her misery.

“I was hoping that some time apart might grant us the clear head to ascertain whether if this relationship is still a good idea.”

“You want to break up?” Rook asked as the pounding heartbeat grew loud in her ears, suddenly very aware of the dryness in her mouth.

“Isn’t that why you came to my room in the dead of night?”

“No, you fool. I wanted to bone you, not break up with you.”

“Rook!” Manfred startled them both, the sudden hiss of his voice cutting through the tension as he appeared with a tray laden with steaming teacups and glasses of water.

“Thank you, Manfred. That will be all.”

Despite Manfred leaving, they remained seated in silence. “What brought this on?” Rook asked.

“It’s been inferred that perhaps we are moving at a rapid pace. And I assumed your infatuation might die down with some space. Perhaps I might have misjudged your intentions.”

“Perhaps.”

“But then perhaps we should stop listening to those around us and see what works for us.” Emmrich sat in thoughtful silence, his palms slowly pressing against each other, creating a soft, muffled sound. The furrowed lines on his forehead mirrored the intensity of his contemplation.

“We could bone it out.”

“I see you’ve made the company of Davrin as of late.”

“Well I preferred the company of someone else, but that someone else seemed to have been listening to someone else–others–other people.” The thoughts made sense in her head, but when they were spoken, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Emmrich let out a hearty chuckle, the sound warm and comforting, and the uneasy atmosphere lifted, everything once more in its rightful place. “Alright. I think it’s time we get you to sleep.”

“We could do other things besides sleeping, you know.” Rook’s suggestive words left a lingering sense of mystery in the conversation.

“Darling, I’m flattered, but I will, unfortunately, have to decline, given your current condition.”

“My condition?”

“Rook, you’re clearly drunk and I would never–” Emmrich said as he got to his feet. In an attempt to grab him, Rook overextended, narrowly avoiding a face-plant onto the dusty wooden floor, as Emmrich caught her just in time.

“Please stay.” Rook asked with pleading eyes, her voice filled with longing.

Emmrich’s jaw clenched tightly, a faint grinding sound echoing in the room, as he processed his thoughts. The air carried a tinge of tension, permeating the space with an almost palpable heaviness.

“No boning, I promise.” Rook added for emphasis.

“Only if you stop referring to sex as boning.”

“Deal.”

Emmrich settled in beside her, the confines of the small space pressing against them, yet Rook’s hand found his arm, pulling him closer until he was molded against her. As much as she didn’t want to think about it, the image of his thin frame, barely concealed by the sheer fabric, filled her mind, intensifying her desire.

“I love your nightgown.”

“Thank you.”

“I would love it even more if it was on the floor.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Emmrich’s chest, the vibration jolting them both.

“Perhaps if you still feel so passionately about it, I might indulge you in the morning.”

“You’re such a tease. But I hope that’s a promise.”

“It is. Now sleep, dearest.” He said, his lips brushing against her hair as he pulled her closer, leaving a tender kiss on the back of her head.

Emmrich held Rook close, his warmth a comforting blanket, and she soon drifted off to sleep.

[twstthing]

[A quick change of clothes(kin).]

Minecraft Single Player! Yuu AU

Summary: Yuu(rmom) has a really weird concept of clothing, Deuce and Professor Crewel figure that out the hard way and witness transmutation.

In NRC, every student gets uniforms. It’s only natural that they get enough from their ever so kind headmage.

Crowley, the said headmage, gets Crewel to tailor a uniform for Yuu as a thank you for doing unintended and unpaid repairs for the Ramshackle dorm. The event was bound to come up, having enrolled them as a half-student alongside Grim. 

Making a uniform for a student isn’t as intensive as creating fashion pieces, however both are pieces of art that require the utmost focus and precision. What kind of professor, let alone MAN, would Divus Crewel be if he let himself slack on providing basic needs for a pup? At the very minimum, he swears upon himself to never stoop down to a level of air-headedness that his boss, unfortunately, has. 

To be honest, Crewel has been itching to get Prefect Yuu a new set of clothing for a while now. Ever since that pup landed in NRC, they have been nothing but trouble with an outfit that gives him one of the strongest eye sores he’s ever felt. A plain, loose cyan blue t-shirt with an equally saturated pair of indigo trousers that have no pockets. Not only is it poorly colored, it lacks function.

Perhaps the lack of function could be explained away with how the pup has their own magic storage, pulling stacks of items in and out of thin air with no strain. But those colors? Crewel is a cunning, logical man, but not everything can be reasoned with nor justified.

Additionally, Yuu(rmom) is due for a good shaving and trim. He’s not sure how the teenaged pup has a fully grown (and very well-styled) goatee, but perhaps it’s just genetics. 

Naturally, there are procedural steps to making a set of clothing for someone, and the first and foremost is to gather measurements. It is one of the faster paced processes, but key to executing all other parts. 

Crewel really should have expected that anything dealing with the new prefect would never go normally.

“Yuu, you need that uniform! I promise it doesn’t hurt at all, it’s actually kind of fun!”

Deuce is on his tiptoes in the Alchemy Laboratory, shouting like he is cooing a cat to come down the tree it ran up. In a sense, he is doing exactly that but the cat is actually a person with extra-stiff limbs and reality-altering powers beyond magic.

Said person looks down from their oak wood block tower, doing several impossibly fast 120 degree hip bends while swinging their arm. Deuce knows this version of gestures, recalling Riddle’s presentation on Yuu’s mannerisms with the assistance of Rook and Iida. If Yuu individually does several hip bends first and arm swings second, it indicates “I am here.” and something along the lines of a declaration depending on the context. 

In this context, Yuu is currently on-guard and firmly standing their ground which means Yuu does not want to do measurements.

Inwardly, Deuce gives himself a pat on the back for remembering all of that and reaching a conclusion. But there’s a slightly more pressing matter at hand that he does not have a method or conclusion to, and that is how to convince Yuu to get down from their tower and get their measurements done.

He’s done everything he could, really! 

Deuce truly thought that his cauldron summoning spell would work in knocking Yuu down to ground level, but the moment the cauldron made contact with Yuu you wanna know what happened? The cauldron DID hit Yuu, eliciting a very manly, “OOF!” from them as their body flashed red, but it didn’t even knock them down. After making contact with Yuu, it shrank into one of the pixelated slabs that Yuu creates and fell to the ground with a light clack.

Magic coercion didn’t work, and his words don’t seem to reach the Prefect’s head either.. Sure;

Turning to Professor Crewel, Deuce bows a into a straight 90 degree angle and shouts, “Professor! I apologize in advance for the.. Un- Uh, seemingly display I am about to do!”

Casting aside his blazer and rolling up his dress shirt sleeves, Deuce takes a deep breath. The oak block tower was 5 blocks high, which means it wasn’t unreasonably tall. A lot of things can be overcome so long as you just try to do it, that’s how Deuce learned he was particularly skilled at hurdling during club practice. Just like how he warmed up at practice, Deuce gives two experimental hops, remembering the feeling of how to make himself spring up.

Professor Crewel is no stranger to the reckless activity of teenage boys having been one himself, so his eyes widen as he realizes what Deuce is about to do. 

Three steps backwards and an inhale is all he needs to sprint straight to the oak block tower, and when the moment is just right—not too close, but not too far from the wall—he leaps once. Deuce reaches to just about 3/5ths of the tower, but he closes the gap between him and the top as his left foot pushes off of the tower and launches himself higher. 

Being face-to-face with Yuu wasn’t necessary so long as he could just get them down, so in the moment that Deuce reached his highest point his arms would shoot out to grab onto Yuu’s legs. Deuce can only smirk in triumph as he shouts, “Gotcha!”

From that point on, gravity could do the rest of the work as it pulled him and Yuu downwards. Deuce is completely ready for the fall, but Yuu seems even more flustered than him as their arms flail around and make the fall much more uncertain.

Though, it was only in that moment that Deuce realized he couldn’t make a stable landing when there is another body of weight that he’s holding onto. He can already feel a sore backache or a rolled ankle coming into play as he falls, but the expected pain does not come even after he squeezes his eyes shut.

Instead, he feels a gentle gust of wind below him, lowering him and Yuu close enough to the ground before completely dissipating and letting him land on his butt. The relief of having no injuries sustained is completely overwritten when he feels the piercing gaze of a very furious Professor Crewel towering about him.

“Yuurmom and Deuce Spade.” Crewel practically seethes out, “Both of you pups. Reckless, unruly behavior that would have gotten you both a nice trip to the nurse’s office. Not only will this be reported to your Housewarden, but I also expect a two-pager reflecting on your actions. Deuce Spade, you will write about the dangers of acting before thinking. Yuu, you will be writing about why listening to authority and following instruction is necessary.”

With a heavy sigh, Professor Crewel settles himself down before declaring, “Now bark if you understand my instructions!”

Deuce spends no time in shouting back, “Yes Professor!”, but Yuu remains silent much to his panic. Yuu’s face is just about as neutral as ever, though the slight crease in their eyebrows is indicative of their immense dissatisfaction with the situation. While Deuce really does want to consider his friend’s feelings here, he would really rather not face any more paperwork and reprimanding from Housewarden Riddle, so he jabs Yuu(rmom) with his elbow. 

Two beats of silence afterwards, Yuu utters out, “Yes.” much to Deuce’s relief. 

Professor Crewel lightly massages the crease between his eyebrows, muttering something along the lines of “stressful pups”. Not too shortly, he turns to Yuu and gestures to them, “Now let’s get your measurements done. I don’t know why you have such an aversion to removing your current clothing, but rest assured that the process will not take long and you can put them back on right afterwards.”

To that, Yuu(rmom) launches out of their seated position to stand and rapidly shakes their head, body following behind their head movements. 

Deuce inwardly sighs, ‘Now we’re back at square one.’

“Pup, is there some kind of connection you have with your clothes? Start speaking, because I am not a mind reader.” 

Yuu takes a moment, eyes scanning Deuce and the professor. It’s a bit jarring to Deuce to see Yuu express this much discomfort at anything. Asides from their overall lack of expression, they typically march to their own beat regardless of the situation. If Yuu(rmom) was 100% human like he and Ace were, perhaps they would be breaking out into a sweat. 

“.. I can’t remove my skin.”

“I don’t think clothes are skin, Yuu.” Deuce states without missing a beat. 

Shaking their head, Yuu replies, “Everyone wears skins.” They wave an arm at Deuce, gesturing to his current outfit, “That’s your skin.” then look down and wave an arm, referring to themselves, “This is my skin.”

Professor Crewel is looking up at the ceiling, hoping to find an answer to why he must explain what clothing is. Pushing past the frustration, he thinks to himself. 

Every day, Yuu shows up with the same set of eye-straining blue clothes. Despite how much farming and tussling they do, their clothes do not appear tattered or even remotely affected by the things its been put through. Even when doused in water, Yuu appeared as dry as sand. 

It doesn’t seem like they have a whole closet of the same clothing either, because Ramshackle’s plumbing bill falls much further below average. While it would be possible that the Prefect could just do their laundry by hand or with one of their otherworldly gadgets, Crewel highly doubts that their arms have the.. articulation, to properly wash clothes by hand. 

If he’s on the right track, Yuu’s current clothing might actually be attached to them.

Looking back down, Professor Crewel gazes at Yuu, “Pup, if I give you a uniform—no, a skin—will you be able to put it on?”

Yuu stares back at him, many figurative cogs turning and churning in contrast to their ultra-still body. They slowly turn their head down and up, which seems to be the closest they can get to doing a hesitant nod, letting Deuce and Professor Crewel sigh in relief. 

Deuce leans into Yuu’s space and nudges them, “See? It wasn’t THAT bad.”

From his own spatial storage, Crewel spins out the reference uniform he would have used after acquiring Yuu’s measurements. It is a men’s size large uniform, based on the speculated height of Yuu(rmom) who appears to be around the same height as the especially loud aide of Draconia. The blazer, vest, tie, dress shirt, and pants are folded into a crisp, square-like shape much to the pleasure of Yuu who draws closer to the stack of clothing. 

Crewel hands the clothes to Yuu, who manages to hold it upright without using their fingers at all. He remains straight-faced for professionalism, but Crewel wonders to himself when his brain will stop trying to make sense of the illogic that is Yuu(rmom).

And for a moment, Yuu simply stares at the uniform. The next, Yuu’s silhouette dissolves into pure static along with the jarring din of buzzing noise emitting from them. Deuce lets out a shout of shock that is ultimately drowned out by the noise of static, and both he and Deuce plug their ears to block out the cacophony. 

Professor Crewel still subconsciously tries to make some sense of what he’s seeing, and he sees the shifting silhouette of Prefect Yuu. It goes from the average four-limbed human that he’s familiar with, then phasing into a two-dimensional figuration of various rectangular shapes, and then a three-dimensional cubic rendition of the human body. 

As suddenly as it began, the static ends, and Yuu has returned to a human figure. The uniform is perfectly fitted on them and worn correctly, however something more significant changed with the Prefect.

Deuce exclaims it first, “Yuu! Your hair! YOU SHRANK??!! What the heck just happened??”

While Deuce furiously pats Yuu down for changes while asking a barrage of questions, Professor Crewel notes the most obvious changes to Yuu’s appearance.

The awful clothes are gone in place of the NRC uniform, Yuu’s goatee is completely gone, and their short-cut brown hair has been replaced with longer, green shaggy strands. Not only that, they gained a pair of eyebrows and had their rectangular eye sockets replaced with ones that aligned more closely with a normal eyeball. Though, it appears that the square-ness didn’t completely disappear with their pupils still square-shaped.

What concerned Professor Crewel the most was the change in build and physical age. Yuu(rmom) was taller than the average student, but now they’ve been reduced to a height similar to Ruggie Bucchi. Their previous muscle mass has also been reduced to that of the average teenager's, and their face has regained the kind of residual baby fat that students would have.

It was already known that Yuu(rmom) was not human based on their behavior and supernatural abilities, but they have literally shape-shifted into a first year NRC student which brings into question just exactly how old they are. Were they actually a 16-17 year old masquerading as a more mature person or are they a mature person who can change their appearance at will?

Though, it seems like malicious intentions don’t seem to be on Yuu’s mind considering their previous behavior on demanding farmland and an extreme desire to build cubic buildings. Additionally, behind their unwavering behavior lies a familiar sense of immaturity that blends right into the NRC population. 

It might not be a worry for now, but Crewel decides to store this information for the upcoming staff meeting in two days. 

Crewel lets out a loud “Ahem!”, drawing the immediate attention of Deuce and the now more human-looking Prefect Yuu. 

“Continue your celebrations after you two finish writing your reflections. I expect them to be done by tomorrow afternoon and on my desk before I begin teaching the third year pups.”

The reminder visibly knocks into Deuce as he drops his head down in mild shame, and displeasure is now visible on Yuu’s face as their new eyebrows slightly furrow. 

[suosopulius]

I wrote a little something! Neve POV, hinted Harding x Rook, Rook is GN and unspecified race but a clown. Just pure silliness.

Cool Lines

Neve Gallus sidestepped a puddle and smiled to herself when the sound of Lace’s giggles carried over the noise of rain and market goers.

Rook laughed too or rather giggled. Neve noted that this bout of giggling had a worrisome note to it. It was conspiratorial, barely stifled, the kind of laugh that one tried to hide to no avail. 

As Neve had not been an active part of the discussion that evidently had led to this giggliness, the detective concluded that she was, in fact, somehow the reason or the object of the aforementioned giggles. Which one, however? She planned on finding out. 

Stopping under a terrace of the Lamplighter, Neve turned to face her companions who had been following her around Dock Town a few paces behind. Lace’s hair clung to her flushed cheeks and Rook stepped into a puddle, oblivious to anything but Lace’s laugh. 

That had been happening more lately. Lace laughing, and Rook causing it. Those two got along like a house on fire. Both were stubbornly positive and valued action over contemplation. Both of them were good to have on your side in a battle and loyal to a fault. Lace liked to laugh and Rook liked to make Lace laugh. 

Neve had the suspicion that something more than friendship was growing between the two. But that was not a mystery she felt the need to investigate. Things seemed to be moving well on their own. As rather action-oriented people Rook and Lace were eventually bound to kiss about it. 

“Care to share what’s so funny?” Neve asked and couldn’t help but be a bit amused as she took in the pair. 

“It’s really stupid,” Lace replied but didn’t seem guilty. So, the two of them had probably not been laughing at the detective’s expense.

“It’s really, really stupid,” Rook continued and looked a little sheepish. Neve lifted her brow in silent question. 

“Well, I - ”,

“Well, Rook was -”,

Again, a bout of giggles erupted from the two as speaking at the same time seemed to be a fine joke. Though, Neve was not impervious to the silliness of it all and she smiled at her companions. 

Rook managed to take a calming breath and cleared their throat. 

“We were wondering if you’d say ‘you’re on thin ice’, next time you cast blizzard.”

“Or ‘stay frosty’ when you do some other spell,” Lace added.

“Or ‘keep it cool’!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh! I know!” Lace exclaimed and waved her hands in excitement. “‘Looks like you’ve been put on ice’ when you do that time slow spell.”

Rook gasped in genuine amazement and mouthed ‘Lace!’, which caused the dwarf to snicker. 

Neve sighed. Of all the silly antics to suffer through… well, this wasn’t the worst, but it would take a while to forget these gems of expression. Though, maybe she’d write down one and on Lace’s name day perform a spell and deliver the line. The one about thin ice was not too bad… no, it was bad for a battle, the venatori would laugh but as a gift, it’d do. Besides, Neve could picture how happy such a small gesture would make the dwarf. All right, she’d embarrass herself at a later date as a treat to Lace. And Rook. They probably would be a couple by then. 

Neve sighed and placed her hands on her hips. An authoritative stance, but not an intimidating one.

“No,” Neve said. “Those kinds of lines belong to serials. Not the streets of Minrathous.”

“Okay,” Rook relented in the same tone they had used when they had gotten on a roll to empty their supply of hand-related puns in Arlathan. Luckily Bellara had been present to tell them to stop while they were ahead. 

Lace sighed and cast her eyes downwards, clearly a little disappointed to end the shenanigans.

“Though, Lace,” Neve said. “Why won’t you say ‘no stone unturned’ next time you move stone?”

The dwarf’s head snapped upwards and her eyes shone brightly as her mouth split into a grin. Rook gasped again.

“That’s… perfect!” Rook uttered and looked down at Lace who was already practicing the words while taking the stance she typically took when concentrating on moving stone.

“You two are children, you know?” Neve asked, not expecting a reply as she watched her two friends enjoy a moment of levity. The drizzle had started to wane, and a bit of sunshine reflected from the puddle Rook had stepped into a moment ago. ��

[heartscrypt]

meet the world's worst girlboy, cyrus de seirene! he's twisted from the mermaids in peter pan, as well as ursula's vanessa form in the little mermaid

pspspsp come ask me about her pspspsps

MORE INFO UNDER CUT

NICKNAMES:

Koi Fish / Nishikigoi-chan [Floyd]

MISC:

Monsieur Sea Starlet / Monsieur Étoile de Mer [Rook]

He was once bound to his job at the Mostro Lounge through a contract, but after Azul's overblot, he has continued to perform out of his own free will... though it tends to be based on whether he feels like it that day, which is deeply upsetting to Azul (who would much prefer Cyrus to at least show up on a consistent schedule). However, Cyrus literally does not care. He lives on his own time. Much like he does with Floyd, Azul just has to deal with it.

Cyrus is Azul's voice trainer. This is a leftover aspect of the contract, from when Azul needed to plausibly sound like Cyrus for Swim With Us to activate. Post contract-destruction, however, he still serves as Azul's voice trainer "because Inky soooo needs it. Where would he even be without me? Don't ever say I'm not as generous as the Sea Witch."

The contract she made with Azul was in her sophomore year (Azul's freshman year, when he started the Mostro Lounge). It dictated that in exchange for continual updates on the life of Cyrus's ex (super messy, we do NOT have the time for that), Cyrus would attract customers to the newly opened cafe using any means necessary for as long as Cyrus attended NRC. For the deal's collateral, Cyrus gave up Swim With Us.

However, Azul was rarely allowed full use of Swim With Us because 1) Cyrus needed it to continually perform duties at the Mostro Lounge, since the contract's terms lasted for as long as he was at NRC and 2) Cyrus pointed out that Azul would have a hard time completely taking Cyrus's voice for himself, considering everyone at NRC likely had heard Cyrus sing or speak at one point. They settled on imbuing Swim With Us into a cheap Coral Sea souvenir shell-shaped pendant that Cyrus would wear around his neck and which Azul had the right to take off of him and wear whenever he needed it.

In the heyday of Cyrus's contract with Azul, Cyrus didn't only use Swim With Me to lure students into the cafe. She'd also use her magic to subliminally message customers into staying longer, buying more and more items off the menu, and tipping generously. Definitely unscrupulous business practice, but hell if Cyrus cares. It's not any worse than targeted advertising. Post-contract destruction, she's toned down on using Swim With Me to influence customers. Mostly only because the spell drains a lot of energy that she could be using to.... I dunno. File her nails and scroll through Magicam while Azul glares at her because she's still technically on the clock even if she's not singing.

Although Floyd refers to her as Koi Fish / Nishikigoi-chan, Cyrus's merform actually more closely resembles a clearfin lionfish.

FULL SPRITE:

In her human form, she bears a striking resemblance to Prince Rielle-- from afar, they look incredibly similar, save for hair shade, hair style, and eye color. She sometimes leverages this similarity to her advantage, but generally dislikes the comparison. Her merform is much more distinct in appearance so she pretty much only gets this comparison when she's on land.

[whumpily-ever-after]

Whumpy Book List #3

Hello! As requested, here is another book list. Some of these books will contain a list of whump tropes and others will not. I did not take notes while reading, and I don't remember the exact tropes. There is at least a little bit of whump in each book.

Happy reading!

List below the cut

The Last Sun (The Tarot Sequence #1) by K.D. Edwards

Summary: Rune Saint John, last child of the fallen Sun Court, is hired to search for Lady Judgment's missing son, Addam, on New Atlantis, the island city where the Atlanteans moved after ordinary humans destroyed their original home. With his companion and bodyguard, Brand, he questions Addam's relatives and business contacts through the highest ranks of the nobles of New Atlantis. But as they investigate, they uncover more than a missing man: a legendary creature connected to the secret of the massacre of Rune's Court. In looking for Addam, can Rune find the truth behind his family's death and the torments of his past?

Genre: Fantasy, urban fantasy, magic, MM romance, Mystery, adult

Whump tropes: Past trauma

 Liar City by Allie Therin

Summary: A murder has Seattle on edge, and it falls to a pacifist empath—and a notorious empath hunter—to find the killer before it's too late It’s the middle of the night when part-time police consultant and full-time empath Reece gets an anonymous call warning him that his detective sister needs his help. At an out-of-the-way Seattle marina, he discovers that three people have been butchered—including the author of the country’s strictest anti-empathy bill, which is just days from being passed into law. Soon, Reece’s caller a shadowy government agent known as The Dead Man, who is rumored to deal exclusively in cases involving empathy. He immediately takes over the investigation, locking out both local PD and the FBI, but, strangely, keeps Reece by his side. As the two track an ever-growing trail of violence and destruction across Seattle, Reece must navigate a scared and angry city, an irritating attraction to his mysterious agent companion, and a rising fear that perhaps empaths like him aren’t all flight and no fight after all…

Genre: Fantasy, mystery, paranormal, MM romance, urban fantasy

Magic in Manhattan Series (Spellbound, Starcrossed, and Wonderstruck) by Allie Therin

Summary: To save Manhattan, they’ll have to save each other first… New York, 1925 Arthur Kenzie’s life’s work is protecting the world from the supernatural relics that could destroy it. When an amulet with the power to control the tides is shipped to New York, he must intercept it before it can be used to devastating effects. This time, in order to succeed, he needs a powerful psychometric…and the only one available has sworn off his abilities altogether. Rory Brodigan’s gift comes with great risk. To protect himself, he’s become a recluse, redirecting his magic to find counterfeit antiques. But with the city’s fate hanging in the balance, he can’t force himself to say no. Being with Arthur is dangerous, but Rory’s ever-growing attraction to him begins to make him brave. And as Arthur coaxes him out of seclusion, a magical and emotional bond begins to form. One that proves impossible to break—even when Arthur sacrifices himself to keep Rory safe and Rory must risk everything to save him.

Genre: Fantasy, historical fiction, MM romance, paranormal, magic, urban fantasy

Spell Bound by F. T. Lukens

Summary: Edison Rooker isn’t sure what to expect when he enters the office of Antonia Hex, the powerful sorceress who runs a call center for magical emergencies. He doesn’t have much experience with hexes or curses. Heck, he doesn’t even have magic. But he does have a plan—to regain the access to the magical world he lost when his grandmother passed. Antonia is…intimidating, but she gives him a job and a new name—Rook—both of which he’s happy to accept. Now all Rook has to do is keep his Spell Binder, an illegal magical detection device, hidden from the Magical Consortium. And contend with Sun, the grumpy and annoyingly cute apprentice to Antonia’s rival colleague, Fable. But dealing with competition isn’t so bad; as Sun seems to pop up more and more, and Rook minds less and less. But when the Consortium gets wind of Rook’s Spell Binder, they come for Antonia. All alone, Rook runs to the only other magical person he knows: Sun. Except Fable has also been attacked, and now Rook and Sun have no choice but to work together to get their mentors back…or face losing their magic forever.

Genre: Fantasy, young adult, MM romance, urban fantasy, magic

A Market of Dreams and Destiny by Trip Galey

Summary: Below Covent Garden lies the Untermarkt, where anything and everything has a price: a lover’s first blush, a month of honesty, a wisp of fortune. As a child, Deri was sold to one of the Market’s most powerful merchants. Now, after years of watchful servitude, Deri finally spots a chance to buy not only his freedom but also his place amongst the Market’s elite when he stumbles into the path of a runaway princess desperate to sell her royal destiny. But news of the missing princess and her wayward destiny spreads. Royal enforcers and Master Merchants alike are after it. Outmanoeuvring them all would all be hard enough had Deri not just also met the love of his life, a young man called Owain, whose employers are using the Market for their own nefarious schemes. Deri soon finds that the price of selling the royal destiny, making a name for himself, and saving the man he loves is dear. The cost of it all might just change the destiny of London forever.

Genre: Fantasy, MM romance, historical fiction, urban fantasy

Saint of Steel Series by T. Kingfisher

Summary: Stephen's god died on the longest day of the year… Three years later, Stephen is a broken paladin, living only for the chance to be useful before he dies. But all that changes when he encounters a fugitive named Grace in an alley and witnesses an assassination attempt gone wrong. Now the pair must navigate a web of treachery, beset on all sides by spies and poisoners, while a cryptic killer stalks one step behind…

Genre: Fantasy, mystery, romance

Silver Under Nightfall and Court of Wanderers by Rin Chupeco

Summary: Remy Pendergast is many things: the only son of the Duke of Valenbonne (though his father might wish otherwise), an elite bounty hunter of rogue vampires, and an outcast among his fellow Reapers. His mother was the subject of gossip even before she eloped with a vampire, giving rise to the rumors that Remy is half-vampire himself. Though the kingdom of Aluria barely tolerates him, Remy’s father has been shaping him into a weapon to fight for the kingdom at any cost. When a terrifying new breed of vampire is sighted outside of the city, Remy prepares to investigate alone. But then he encounters the shockingly warmhearted vampire heiress Xiaodan Song and her infuriatingly arrogant fiancé, vampire lord Zidan Malekh, who may hold the key to defeating the creatures—though he knows associating with them won’t do his reputation any favors. When he’s offered a spot alongside them to find the truth about the mutating virus Rot that’s plaguing the kingdom, Remy faces a choice. It’s one he’s certain he’ll regret. But as the three face dangerous hardships during their journey, Remy develops fond and complicated feelings for the couple. He begins to question what he holds true about vampires, as well as the story behind his own family legacy. As the Rot continues to spread across the kingdom, Remy must decide where his loyalties lie: with his father and the kingdom he’s been trained all his life to defend or the vampires who might just be the death of him.

Genre: Fantasy, vampires, LGBTQIA+, gothic

The Druid Stone by Heidi Belleau

Summary: Sean never asked to be an O'Hara, and he didn't ask to be cursed by one either. After inheriting a hexed druid stone from his great-grandfather, Sean starts reliving another man's torture and death...every single night. And only one person can help. Cormac Kelly runs a paranormal investigation business and doesn't have time to deal with misinformed tourists like Sean. But Sean has real magic in his pocket, and even though Cormac is a descendant of legendary druids, he soon finds himself out of his depth...and not because Sean's the first man he's felt anything for in a long time. The pair develop an unexpected and intensely sexual bond, but are threatened at every turn when Sean's case attracts the unwelcome attention of the mad sidhe lords of ancient Ireland. When Sean and Cormac are thrust backward in time to Ireland's violent history—and their own dark pasts—they must work together to escape the curse and save their fragile relationship.

Genre: Fantasy, time travel, MM romance, contemporary

Whump tropes: Curses, sent through time, torture

Whisper into the Night by Jay Leigh

Summary: Theo Moreau never wanted to be involved with politics, but when his mother wins the presidential election, he reluctantly agrees to tag along for his younger siblings. Nothing could have prepared him to juggle his anxiety, complex family dynamics, and the complicated world of the White House. Lacking supportive friends and family, he leans on his steadfast Secret Service agent as tensions rise across the divisive political landscape and the dangers of being close to the president come to the surface. Agent Connor O’Brien always wanted to be a hero, so working on the protective detail for the First Family seems like the perfect opportunity. What he isn’t expecting is to fall head over heels for the man under his protection. As their relationship blossoms, the foundation of the administration grows more unstable and the chatter from America’s right-wing demographic rises to a fever pitch. But when Theo becomes the target of their campaign, the stakes get even higher. Unsure of who to trust, and with little help from the President, Theo and Connor join forces with their motley group of friends to unravel the mystery of who is working against them from inside the White House before the situation turns explosive. As the sinister reach of this masked shadow spreads, Theo and Connor grow even closer and the magnitude of everything they risk losing propels them into a race against the nefarious mastermind, desperately clinging to the hope they’ve found in one another before their dream come true turns into a nightmare.

Genre: Contemporary, MM romance, suspense

Whump tropes: Anxiety, asthma, kidnapping, bad parents, bodyguard

Adonis by L Sherleen

Summary: Accused of a hate crime and expelled from school in his final year, Connor returns home to his seaside town to let everything blow over. There, not only does he have to learn to deal with the addition of two new stepbrothers and a new stepdad, but he also has to grapple with a world set against him. It’s not all bad though. Within his dad’s underwater lab, he discovers something in the deep. Something exciting. Something that calls to him. Something that doesn't shy away from the ugly in him as the world does. And Connor could use the distraction…even if it endangers his life.

Genre: Fantasy, MM romance, mermaids, science fiction, mystery

Whump tropes: Found family (kind of), bad parents, kidnapping, false accusations

A Rake of His Own by A.J. Lancaster

Summary: Marius Valstar doesn’t know which is worse: the dead body in his greenhouse or the naked fae prince on his desk. The only rakes of interest to Marius are garden tools. Not fae princes. Certainly not the arrogant, selfish fae prince he has the misfortune to have a history with. But when Prince Rakken turns up naked and bleeding in Marius’s college the same day a body appears in his greenhouse, scruples must take second place to solving a murder that could unravel the delicate balance between humans and fae. Marius’s own developing magical powers are more hindrance than help – as is Rakken’s bloodied past. Forced to work together, they must forge an uneasy alliance if they are to track down the killer. But how can Marius trust the man who represents everything he’s trying to avoid?

Genre: Fantasy, fae, MM romance, mystery

Whump tropes: Pain from telepathy, attempted murder, bodyguard

Wicked Fox by Kat Cho

Summary: Eighteen-year-old Gu Miyoung has a secret--she's a gumiho, a nine-tailed fox who must devour the energy of men in order to survive. Because so few believe in the old tales anymore, and with so many evil men no one will miss, the modern city of Seoul is the perfect place to hide and hunt. But after feeding one full moon, Miyoung crosses paths with Jihoon, a human boy, being attacked by a goblin deep in the forest. Against her better judgment, she violates the rules of survival to rescue the boy, losing her fox bead--her gumiho soul--in the process. Jihoon knows Miyoung is more than just a beautiful girl--he saw her nine tails the night she saved his life. His grandmother used to tell him stories of the gumiho, of their power and the danger they pose to humans. He's drawn to her anyway. With murderous forces lurking in the background, Miyoung and Jihoon develop a tenuous friendship that blossoms into something more. But when a young shaman tries to reunite Miyoung with her bead, the consequences are disastrous . . . forcing Miyoung to choose between her immortal life and Jihoon's.

Genre: Fantasy, young adult, mythology, romance

[insane-li]

Come Home to Me

Want a quick one-shot? So does Lavellan.

Topic:

I am a firm believer that Solas and Lavellan had sex in Inquisition.

This takes place after the balcony scene, before Crestwood.

My Inky thinks the anchor is gross.

Solas is really more of a giver than a taker, as he should be. What a dog.

I believe that Lavellan is the forgotten-spirit Solas describes to Rook in Veilguard (What is the word for coming home after a long journey?), and he knows it, hence the reaction he has.

I don't speak Elven, which is why it's kept simple and why I provided the translations next to the phrases. If you have a better/more accurate phrasing, lmk, I love to learn. Fenedhis means wolf penis, it's a common curse, you are welcome.

I tried really hard to do an 8-8-11/8-8-11 with them, but I wrote this on a complete whim and that was where most of my time was spent, ahahaha someone did it for a living ahahaha they have a degree from Stanford ahahaha

It took all of my willpower not to include a bit about how Ellana was gonna tell Sera and Blackwall that Solas has definitely fucked spirits because he definitely fucks.

Don't be offended by Solas's stamina, dude was just breaking a millenia-long dry spell, he's lucky he lasted as long as he did at all. He at least used his wisdom first, eh? eyebrows eyebrows

Couple things: -I am an amateur writer, I love constructive feedback. My weak areas include not knowing the difference between lay/lie and mixing up past and present tenses.

-This went through exactly one read-through so there are bound to be typos/issues. Lmk I will fix it right away.

-Do I capitalize Fade or not? IDFK.

-Please enjoy I actually loved writing this, I love imaging my Inky and my Solas both getting all hot and bothered during their 10 year dry spell thinking of the time they spent together.

There was a silence filling the space where he stood, his concentration willing the air to be still. He was stood idly in the rotunda, hands clasped behind his back as he observed the space. A scent unknown to Ellana drew her attention and she spied a palette of fresh paints, however her purpose for being here enabled her to walk past it without much thought.

Solas had begun his outline but she had yet to see him paint. She, right now, had a plan, and had formed it after he’d told her about his matchmaker spirit in his journeys through the Fade. She could not be rid of his parting words, “That small village never knew its luck.”

Ellana felt she was no fool and knew luck was a fleeting and fickle thing. Spurred by their stolen kisses and the confidence of her experiences with men, and stirred further by the anchor in her hand (her nails were turning an indigo color at the nailbeds), she approached Solas with purposefully soft footsteps and a clearing of the throat to catch his attention.

“No need to announce yourself, but I appreciate the consideration.” He turned towards her, a smile on his lips, his violet eyes striking true. That gaze went through her and she had to stop herself from pressing up against him as she always desired when in close proximity.

Some of her nerve was lost when she made eye contact and remembered the kisses in the Fade, how she sought him out in every dream. The last one his hands had wandered and she yearned for this in reality.

It was easier in the Fade, but they had been travelling together and were not strangers to each other’s touches. There was a particularly harrowing battle in the Hinterlands, one she was ill-prepared for but too stubborn to run from. When they were victorious, Solas grabbed her to look her over, though he was bloodied and battered himself. They fell to their knees and he embraced and kissed her so hard their teeth clashed and he did not let go until Cassandra made a comment about how even her romance books were not so dramatic. Even then, he had held on to her as they made their way back to camp and took extra care to look after her once the healer had left their vicinity, tutting at the bandages and re-binding them.

She was emboldened by this memory and came to stand beside him, clasping her hands behind her, mimicking him. She looked at him sideways in the same cool manner he would do to one of the other mages, and decided to employ the same even tone he did when talking to someone being unreasonable, “Are the sketches complete yet?” She turned to look at the paints, nose in the air. “Are you… readying to use those?”

Distraction was fighting his desire to play, she could tell, and he glanced back towards the paint and let his hands relax, seeing her teasing posture. He sounded amused as he said, “They are, and I was. But it can wait if you need something, Inquisitor?”

Ellana loved it when he used her title. The way he chooses to address her was a playful game they had fallen in rhythm to, having never discussed the roles, rules, or regime. So it was the Inquisitor drawn forth when she approached with his stolen confidence guiding her steps; vhenan when he noted her loving graces and the peculiar lilt in her voice she was becoming fond of; Ellana when she has done something “a little stupid”, or pleasantly surprising, like bringing him frilly cakes stolen from kitchen – and why not, they have two pastry chefs. There is enough to go around.

“Oh, yes. Actually…” and while she had other motives, there actually was the problem of the anchor and her hand. She exposed her left hand and gazed at it. “I, um,” she hesitated, looking around. “I was wondering if we could discuss the anchor in my room? Please, vhenan,” she added softly.

The concern on his face as he took her left hand gently and nodded, “Of course, my heart.” He tucked her hand gently into the crook of his elbow, muffling the bright green light, and they made their slow walk to her quarters. It was not uncommon for them to stroll around Skyhold and this was not the first time they went up to her tower room together. But this was the first time she asked him to look at the anchor in private and she had no doubt Leliana was listening to that. Ellana did not care for any scandals but their relationship was a known entity in the Inquisition, so she felt confident no eyebrows would raise too high at this not-so-unusual circumstance.

On their walk through the main hall and throne room, Ellana made idle chit-chat by bringing up the matchmaker spirit, asking how common was a love spirit in the fade, would the matchmaker ever think to move on to find other villages to ‘set right’, and things of that nature. They discussed it in low, intimate tones, and Solas occasionally reached over to rub a thumb over her left hand and look at her fondly.

They climbed the steps and entered her room, and she had decorated the rooms in the Elvish tradition, which she liked and found pleasing and somewhat musical. Her bed was a four-poster now after begging Josephine for the funds, being denied multiple times, and going to Val Royeaux anyway and buying what she wanted. She had purchased a dark navy duvet that almost matched her Skyhold uniform. She liked the darker colors because it muted that green light that exuded from her hand at all times.

Heartbeat quickening as she remembered her ulterior motives, she invited Solas to sit on the bed. She saw he was instantly suspicious, and hesitated, but she disengaged from him and went to lean against the desk, hoping to catch him off guard. She’d piled the couch with various forms of clothing to dissuade him from sitting there instead. She realized she should have done something with the desk chair, but maybe her guarding it would prevent him from thinking to use it. Regardless, her desk was tidied and neat, not that it usually wasn’t, but she had some foresight to finish up her open affairs if only to leave more time available to spend with Solas, if he wanted to.

“I need to speak openly with you, first, Solas,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Please, sit just there,” she asked gently, and he complied in fine order, sitting gracefully on the edge of the bed. He put an ankle on one knee and both hands on his raised leg, looking at her intensely.

“You need not be so concerned, there are two reasons I brought you. One is for my hand, the other is for love,” she recounted in that lilting tone.

Solas blinked and was silent, his face impassive. He inclined his head for her to continue.

The sunlight from the late afternoon was streaming in. The mountainous view lent a quiet calm up in her tower and she had let the fire die down to a gentle crackling. The windows were closed, however, containing the heat. When Ellana looked at Solas and his gentle violet eyes, there danced a rainbow of lights from the windows, and it softened her heart more.

“I love the stolen kisses, the fade, the catalyst of our desire. I would change nothing, yet I want to change everything.” I think the anchor is killing me, she thought.

Cupping her left hand with her right, looking down at the green light which often mesmerized her, could not manage to hold her attention right now. I think the anchor is killing me.

Tilting her head to look at Solas, the light of her hand illuminating part of her face in that eerie green glow, she wants him to read her mind so she doesn’t have to say it out loud, but she knows that is unreasonable and unlike her.

A deep breath, a settling of the nerves, the worst part of it needs to come out, now. “I think the anchor is killing me,” her voice is small and he remains sat on the bed, his gaze turning down to her hand, a concerned frown on his face as he focuses on the anchor.

Ellana lets go of her left hand and settles it on top of the desk, hiding that green glow.

“I cannot bear the thought of never having you. Surviving every battle, only to be tormented at the thought of never having…” she loses the words and looks away, only to turn her gaze back towards Solas, all the more fierce.

He opened his mouth to speak but Ellana cut him off in sudden inspiration.

She said, “Shiral vhenas ghilas ar, Solas.” Come home to me, Solas.

“Vhenan!” he exclaimed, dropping his leg and standing abruptly. Ellana looked at him with longing and, using her right hand, began to unbutton her shirt. He watched her coolly, even when she opened the blouse to expose that soft area between her breasts, her navel showing. She leaned back casually, trying to control her breathing and staring at Solas with certain expectations and also pleading.

Her voice was quiet but firm and filled the space as she repeated, “Shiral vhenas ghilas ar, vhenan.” Come home to me, heart.

Then he was upon her, his mouth on hers, a hand slithering on her waist and up her back. The weight of him pushed into her, overtaking her as he liked to do, and their feet shuffled together as they moved toward the bed and the moment of intense, unbearable desperation was over.

He pulled away to put his mouth on her neck, helping her shirt off. “This is a terrible idea,” he said into her soft neck and she laughed her reply, absolutely assured that this is quite possibly the best idea she’s ever had, “You’re an idiot!”

“Fenedhis,” he muttered in the same teasing tone. An intake of breath and Solas pulled away, though she could see his lips pouting, wanting to be kissed, and his eyes had a glazed look over them. He moved to sit on the bed, his hands touching her everywhere but her breasts, warm skin to warm skin. He looked at her with awe and longing and such sadness in his eyes that she bent over and kissed each eyelid. “Don’t be sad, vhenan, I’m not leaving,” and she smiled as she kissed him.

He kissed her back and she was emboldened by his passion, and in awe of his self-control. She looked down at her naked torso and did not feel ashamed, but did want to play.

“Well, this is unfair,” she teased. He only smirked at her and she was quick to remove her pants. “I know that might have seemed like I practiced it, but…”

He laughed and she joined him in that laughter and shrugged, standing tall and naked before him to let him drink her up with his eyes, which she was pleased to see he did.

Generous sunlight struck Ellana’s skin and Solas exhaled softly at the sight, lifting one of his clothing-bound arms, extending his hand to her gracefully. “Be ever gracious and assist me in undressing, vhenan?” This was a new game, but one she knew she’d enjoy.

Tugging the soft woolen material, she loosened it from one arm and then the other, pulling the tunic up and off his head. His jawbone necklace almost got caught up in it so she removed that too, kissing his cheeks and the top of his head and she did so. She leaned down and kissed his generous mouth as she worked on the wrappings he wore, making a comment that they were woven in the Dalish style, and he laughed with a little snort and simply said, “Yes.”

She kissed the bare skin she revealed with every wrapping she removed, and when she reached his chest he stopped her before she could go further, saying to her gently, “I would not have you kneel before me.” Instead he stood and took her chin in his hand, looking into her eyes before kissing her deeply, and he quickly and deftly removed his wrappings.

“Oh… did you practice that for me?” she asked, grinning like a fool.

“I did,” he said, and embraced her. He stepped back and they gazed at each other, reaching for one another. Ellana said softly, “Am I to be woken from this wonderful dream, disappointed?”

“No, vhenan. I am reasonably sure we are awake. And I am done talking, now.”

He moved his body in a way to manipulate her onto the bed of her own volition, without touching her. She marveled at the skill. He motioned for her to sit up by the pillows and then he climbed in after her.

Painstakingly slow, one hand started on her foot and he caressed up to her thigh. She was unconcerned with his length and girth, which was clearly ready for her, and more focused on his hands and the concentration of his features. Every part of her was sacred in his hands and he acted as a sculptor, trying to memorize and capture every curve to be poorly imitated later. He focused on her pelvic area, kept trim and neat if only for the sake of hygiene, and when he’d caressed every inch of each foot, shin, and thigh, he leaned back on his heels and stretched her left leg high. Beginning at the center of her foot, he began the slow descent of a smattering of kisses across her leg, looking at her all the while, his hands moving in time with those kisses. Ellana was taken aback and her breath hitched in her throat as he made his way down, down to between her thighs, where it all connected. He settled himself on his stomach between her thighs, breathing his hot breath on her so expertly it did not tickle but only drew out more desire from her.

When his mouth, hot and moist and generous, so generous, finally made contact, Ellana exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding and let her head fall back on the pillows with a quiet, “Sulahn’nehn!” Rejoice!

Solas chuckled against her and it sent ripples through to her core, but then that mirth stopped, and that is when the real work began.

He worked on her, meticulously slow and gentle, while her hands roamed over herself. However, she stopped when she noticed the anchor, unhappy with it and the burden it carried. She saw the anchor glowing, the dying fingertips, her practiced words finally spoken aloud to the only one she would dare say those words to: I think the anchor is killing me. Her concentration on Solas was shattering as she looked at the anchor and Solas noticed, looking up from his work. Her eyes focused on him and she said, “I have a glove,” reaching beneath a pillow to produce said glove. “For when I sleep,” she said a little breathlessly. It was thick black material and she slid it on easily. It left her fingertips bare and had a delicate and attractive pattern on it, but she had a fleeting thought she would need a full-size glove soon if her hand continued the way it was. This thought was disrupted by Solas grabbing her hand and kissing it, before lowering his mouth back to the temple that was her and drinking of her as a man dying of thirst would.

Tongue, lips, teeth were at work and she was writhing, panting happily, offering encouragements, grabbing onto herself and also whatever piece of him she could reach. But then Solas did something with his lips and tongue and mouth and her back arched as she squealed loudly in tandem. He did it again and her ass lifted involuntarily as she moaned, something low and deep within her she wasn’t sure she was capable of. His hands moved to control her hips, and she heard a small, almost imperceptible, “Ah.” from him.

After learning her, she was twisted and arching and biting her own fingers, how does he not tire? and she laughed at the revelation as tears pricked her eyes, thinking, all that talking… and he brought her patiently, so patiently to the height of her enjoyment, right to the edge of her anticipated release, that incoming tidal wave of pleasure. Ellana was shaking and expressed her need to be done with it, looking down at him holding her hips with his mouth pressed fiercely against her.

Those violet eyes looked up at her flushed features, mouth slightly parted, glossed over eyes, and he slid two fingers inside her, probing gently as his tongue moved on that bundle of nerves in that form she was coming to love.

She cried out when he’d barely touched her and her body tensed, then finally released as he made a mild suggestion while simultaneously placing pressure on that spot inside her, “Ganas.” Come. Lowering his mouth but not his eyes at her flooding and tossing and her scream as she came. No command, merely a suggestion, but it was enough for her and he gently massaged inside and outside until the tidal wave was satiated and she was spent, slack and sweaty and breathing hard.

He began to leave a trail of kisses over her stomach and breasts, massaging and touching every inch of her slowly. His shadow prompted her to open her eyes up at him as he moved on top of her, resting his torso on hers and kissing her neck, nipping slightly. He murmured into her neck, pulling her against him, “Hellathen, vhenan.” A noble struggle, heart.

The light was slanting in from a different angle now, but the room was as warm as ever and she could smell her own pleasing fragrance in the air mingled with him, but she wanted more, her breathing was more even and her hands began to roam over every inch of him, grasping and clawing. She pushed against his chest to get him to lay on his back but he fought against her, pushing her back down with a hard kiss, which she broke away from to awkwardly say, “There has to be reciprocation.” So grating to her ears to hear her spew off something of that nature in a factual manner.

Solas replied by kissing her neck and mouth for so long she was unsure he heard her, until he said, calm as ever, “Why? No.” It was so soft and gentle and simple, but Ellana met it with, “Don’t you want me to…” suddenly absolutely determined to make this awkward.

“No,” he said again in that frustratingly simple tone. “I do not need you to kneel. Your pleasure is the greatest love letter to me, vhenan.”

“What if I want to kneel before you?” and she raised her hips, feeling the hardness of him. He groaned and grabbed her ass. “There is time for that. But not today. Let me distract you today before I study that hand.” He moved his hand to grip himself and kissed Ellana, pressing against her opening with himself.

Wet and ready and eager she lifted her hips to him; this was her favorite part, that initial insertion, and she knew he’d fit well.

With some coaxing, he did. Fully sheathed, they panted into each other’s ears and necks and then found their rhythm and Ellana felt them as each part of a song: she took and he gave, he took some and she gave most of it back. Together and around, until he grunted and spent himself in her, gasping out.

He stilled before her and murmured a soft, “Ir abelas, vhenan,” a gentle chuckle at the end to note his embarrassment.

Ellana automatically said, “Tel’abelas! Whyever would you -!?”

That damned chuckle again, kissing her collar bone as he lay slack on top of her. “I meant… I did not want to go so quickly.” He moved off her and lay beside her and she laughed some.

“Solas,” she intoned, adjusting herself and placing a hand on his cheek. “Hamin. Rest. I have to admit…” she blushed, closed her eyes, scrunched her face. “I am embarrassed.” She exhaled and Solas touched her cheek. She opened her eyes to gaze into his. “I thought I was experienced in these matters, but I’ve… you are quite the expert.” She saw the relief and humor on his devastatingly handsome features. His eyebrows raised and he shook his head.

“Only with you, and that marvelous spirit of yours, vhenan.”

[poisonioushearts]

Forgotten

Characters: All dorms plus Grim

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: not proofread, possibly grammatical errors

Synopsis/tags: Reader gets hit with a spell that makes them forget what was most important to them. Everyone thinks that it must be their home but it ends up being him, angst, angst/no comfort

Notes: I was feeling particularly evil today but in the end I was near sobbing

Do not repost, reblog only

You stirred awake with your head pounding.

Where were you?

You blinked, things started to take shape and you stared up at the familiar white walls of the infirmary.

“Ah, Prefect! Glad to see you have woken up. Do you recall what happened?”

You frowned, sitting up slightly, “I was walking to my dorm and then someone,” you paused trying to recall the events, “Someone shouted my name and that is it…”

“Ah well, allow me to explain after all my graciousness knows no bounds,” his smile faltered as he continued to speak, “some students were messing around with spells and it seems you have gotten hit with a ‘forgetting spell’. One that makes you forget what was the most important to you.”

You frowned, “Is there a cure?”

He sighed, I am afraid the answer to that is unclear. Now, tell me, do you recall from where you hail?”

“I am from [home]. You asked me this on my first day here.”

Crowley’s facial expressions faltered, “Oh dear,” he waved his hand, “nonetheless someone is here to see you.”

The door opened and he came in but instead of your usual greeting he often received you frowned.

“Who are you?”

He had rushed in with a relieved smile on his face, starting to talk to you and ask you if you were alright. Once the question left your lips his world shattered. You didn’t know who he was? Wait, that meant he was your favorite person! That sliver of happiness faded once he fully realized that you didn’t remember who he was and you’d probably never remember. He will try and do anything for you to remember him again, to remember all the times you’ve spent together. He loved you and now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever know how you felt before.

Kalim, Carter, Rook, Floyd, Ruggie

The lecture he was about to give fell away and his eyes went wide. His facade begins to crumble. You didn’t remember who he was? He will spend countless nights trying to find a cure trying to make you remember who he was. He wants your conversations back, he wants you back. Please remember him. Please.

Vil, Trey, Sebek, Azul, Leona, Riddle, Jamil

He refuses this fact. He refuses to believe this. It must be a prank. There must be a cure. He will not rest or give up until something is solved, even at the risk of his own health and at the risk that you may just never remember who he is again. All the while keeping up the lie of ‘I’m fine’.

Floyd, Epel, Jack, Ace, Sebek

He accepts it because he may be used to losing things, but he doesn’t give up. He will talk to you, he will try and be a friend to you. It doesn’t matter that the relationship is starting over from scratch, he will do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn’t lose this one. He still hopes that maybe you can get your memories back, but he isn��t relying on it.

Lilia, Jamil, Malleus, Jack, Deuce, Jade, Silver

This was one of the rare times he left his room but once he hears the news he leaves right away, refusing to look at the confused and calculating expression on your face. Back in his room he either looks back on all the fun times you had together. How unfortunate it had to end. He refuses to leave his safe space even more now.

Idia

He hates this feelingbut he doesn’t realize what it is at first. He soon finds out that he is feeling upset, sad, and even a little bit of grief. He will find a cure. No worries he doesn’t need rest or food he will even beg his older brother to help him bring you back.

Ortho

He holds back the tears that water in his eyes but it doesn’t help.He starts to sob. He can’t help it, the one person who clearly accepted him, even almost from the start, had forgotten him. He was your favorite, and now he may never get to experience it again.

Grim

Thank you for reading. Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[justacatiguess]

Sad Rook noises.

I may be the only one disappointed about crypt baby! This is a quick little bit I had thrown together for a possible rook in the mourn watch before we knew about the backgrounds. Oh well.

---

Seph set down the tea tray with a clatter, sending tomb dust into the air. The ancient stone chamber was dimly lit by flickering candlelight, casting eerie shadows on the crumbling walls adorned with faded Nevarran runes. Cobwebs hung like delicate veils in the corners, and the scent of musty earth permeated the air.

"Tea time!" she announced. She dusted her seat before sitting down. The crow on her shoulder fluttered down to the altar, eyeing the pile of tea cakes with keen interest.

A skull on the altar glowed faintly from the recesses of its eyes. "What is the occasion for this most unexpected visit?"

"Tut! Manners. You haven't asked how I am."

The skull sighed, its faint glow flickering. "Very well. How are you, dear Persephone?"

"Very well, thank you." Seph broke off a piece of a tea cake and offered it to the bird, who cawed happily before pecking at it.

She pursed her lips and stared at the skull, tipping her head towards the crow.

"Oh for all the-" The skull sighed. "And you, crow?" The crow cawed as it pursued a crumb rolling away.

"Tea cake?" Seph set a plate next to the skull.

The glow in the skulls eyes shifted as the skull watched the crow. "Did you name this one?"

Seph brushed a strand of her pale hair from her face, hiding her face from the skull. "Of course not, don't be silly. It's just a bird." She fed Maestro another bit of tea cake.

The skull was not convinced. "If you can name a bird... You know I can't remember mine. Why can't I have one?"

Seph waved a hand in the air, causing the candle flames to dance. "Nevermind that. You asked why I am celebrating. Don't you want to know?"

"I'm dying to know," the skull replied dryly.

Persephone grimaced at the pun but settled in to tell her story.

"Today marks the anniversary of my escape from Tevinter. Did I ever tell you how it happened?"

The skull's glow dimmed slightly, signaling its attention.

"That day... Usually, I woke to a swift kick on the side from Talil to get to work. But when I woke, the shadows were long in the room, and I was alone. I rolled off my mat freezing, as the big oven wasn't even lit."

She paused, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "I panicked. If Talil didn't get breakfast out soon, we'd get a switch or two for sure."

Seph's voice trembled. "Then I heard the master's voice and followed it through the service hall to the dining parlor."

The skull's glow brightened, "Your master? I didn't know you're a slave."

"Was." She corrected.

Her eyes darkened as she continued. "I saw him there with one of his friends. Then I saw Talil. All propped up on a chair as if she had joined them for a late-night chat."

Persephone's grip tightened on her teacup.

"She was riddled with knife marks, her eyes gouged out."

The skull darkened in sympathy.

"Then I noticed the demon. They had it bound in some sort of spell. Blood magic, I wager. Took me a bit of a moment to realize they were trying to settle a bet."

Seph lowered her voice and spoke in a drunk slur. "'The last one stood taller than the door frame." She mimicked.

She then leaned a little to the side and said in a snivelling voice reminiscent of her master:

"Pfaw, this one is only a hair shorter, but look at that girth. The size of those claws."

She tilted back to her original posture and took a sip of her tea before continuing.

"Master said he would get another slave to continue the game."

The skull's glow flickered, "Did you kill them then?

Persephone's eyes met the skull's empty sockets. "No, I was too afraid. I hid. Eventually his guest left and master went to bed. Stabbed his sleeping body until it had more holes than Talil's."

"How'd you end up here of all places?" The skull asked.

Seph laughed. "When I was younger the kitchen maids would tell me ghastly things when I misbehaved. Usually it was how the master would make me a mummy in Nevarra and have me tortured for an eternity. I wanted my master to suffer like that."

Persephone looked down at her hands, as if seeing the blood again. "So I sawed his head off, with much difficulty, of course."

The skull's glow dimmed. "His head? You took his head?"

"Yes. I went into his boudoir, picked out a nice outfit, cleaned myself up, found a bag to pack him in, hid my ears with a ridiculous hat—still have it. And now here we are, having this lovely little tea party, a year later."

"What... er, what was his name?" the skull asked quietly, dreading the answer.

"Hmm?" Persephone shook her head as if to dislodge the memories. "Oh dear, you think your-?" she leaned back, pealing with laughter. 

"No, no, his skull was beyond rotted out by the time I made it here. I found you in a collapsed alcove in this tomb."

"Oh, well, that's a relief."

Persephone lifted her teacup and took a ladylike sip. "Needless to say I was quite disappointed. The kitchen maids had made it all up. Nothing here but dusty sorts that go on about honoring the dead. A shame, really."

"Personally, I prefer the honoring to the torturing," the skull said.

Seph shook her head, as if to return back to the present. "Well, chores to do, and all that." She stood and stretched her back. "I don't suppose your going to eat that tea cake?"

"Ha. Very funny."

Seph rearranged the teaware on the platter. She motioned to the bird. "Come on, Maestro." The crow hopped obediently onto her shoulder.

"I knew it." The skull glowed indignantly.  "Might want to remember that whole honoring the dead bit, hmm? Give the ol' skull a name?"

"Perhaps next time. So much to do! Toodles!"

[lgbtqreads]

hi!! i know this has beeb asked before but not for a while and I thought there might be some releases since then, so : any Queer High Fantasy? I've been recommended Priory of the Orange Tree before. Thank you!!

Not sure when the last time was but here’s what’s currently on my radar! (You can also find these here, and an asterisk means it’s not out yet: https://lgbtqreads.com/sff/spec-fic-by-subgenre/) I bolded some of the ones that are newer or coming out in the next few months.

MG

*Splinter & Ash by Marieke Nijkamp – NB

Sir Callie by Esme Symes-Smith – NB

YA

Female Protags

The Winter Duke by Claire Eliza Bartlett

The Never Tilting World by Rin Chupeco – L

Queen of Coin and Whispers by Helen Corcoran

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst – L,B

Inkmistress by Audrey Coulthurst – B

The Impostor Queen by Sarah Fine – B

Noble Falling and Noble Persuasion by Sara Gaines

Rule by Ellen Goodlett

Havenfall by Sara Holland

*Hearts Forged in Dragon Fire by Erica Hollis

The Afterward by EK Johnston

Empirium by Claire Legrand – B

Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller – BA

These Feathered Flames by Alexandra Overy

The Midnight Lie by Marie Rutkoski

It Ends in Fire by Andrew Shvarts

Beneath the Citadel by Destiny Soria – B, A

The Third Daughter and The Second Son by Adrienne Tooley

Shatter the Sky by Rebecca Kim Wells – B

The Thousand Names by Django Wexler

Male Protags

Cloaked in Shadow by Ben Alderson

The Runebinder Chronicles by Alex R. Kahler

Skybound by Alex London

So This is Ever After by F.T. Lukens

Beneath the Citadel by Destiny Soria

The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas – T

Non-Binary Protags

Spell Bound by FT Lukens

Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller – GF

*A Hundred Vicious Turns by Lee Paige O’Brien

Adult

Female Protags

A Broken Blade by Melissa Blair

Tales of Inthya by Effie Calvin

The Vanished Queen by Lisbeth Campbell

Rook & Rose by M.A. Carrick

The Night and its Moon by Piper CJ

The Unbroken by C.L. Clark

*Warmongers by C.L. Clark

The Gardener’s Hand by Felicia Davin

*The Water Outlaws by S.L. Huang

Dragonfall by L.R. Lam

The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

From Under the Mountain by C.M. Spivey

The Drowning Empire by Andrea Stewart (Amz)

The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri

Malice by Heather Walter

When Women Were Warriors series by Catherine M. Wilson

Male Protags

Kirith Kirin by Jim Grimsley

The Cadeleonian series by Ginn Hale

Tales From Verania by T.J. Klune

A Chorus of Dragons by Jenn Lyons

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

*Dark Moon, Shallow Sea by David R. Slayton

Stagsblood Trilogy by Gideon E. Wood

Genderqueer Protags

*The Water Outlaws by S.L. Huang