#the-elf-on-baker-street | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autistic-cat-with-a-book · 28 days

Text

Hello there. I have written a story, which I am now sharing with the keepblr fandom. Enjoy it. Please. (It's a slightly alternate ending for Neverseen, if you were curious.) Tagging @permanently-stressed because I've been torturing her with crumbs of this for the whole week, so it's only fitting she gets tagged.

okay bye

Sophie was about to step into the shimmering beam of her pathfinder when she noticed the small yellow crystal in Keefe’s hand. She barely hesitated before grabbing his shoulders and letting the light carry both of them away.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” Keefe shouted as they reappeared by a lake the color of blood. Tall, foggy mountains surrounded the area, and the whole place gave Sophie the creeps. Nothing good could come of this.

“I could ask you the same thing!” She snapped. “Why are you leaping–illegally– to the Forbidden Cities? Are you seriously going to try to break into an ogre prison?”

Keefe turned away. “Go home, Sophie.”

“Not unless you explain what’s going on here!”

Keefe opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by three flashes of light. Three dark cloaks with a white eye symbol on the sleeve.

The Neverseen were here.

“Keefe,” Sophie started as the figures slowly walked towards them, “What did you do? What did you do?”

“I…” his voice trailed off.

“How are we going to escape this?” She hissed.

“Simple answer,” said the first figure, throwing back his hood. “You don’t.”

With growing horror, Sophie found the name the voice belonged to. Fintan was here. So were Brant and Alvar. They were trapped.

Fintan held up his hands, a smile spreading across his thin lips. “My, my, Keefe. You’ve really outdone yourself. Sophie is such an excellent addition to our bargain.” His eyes narrowed as he said that last part and a chill went up Sophie’s spine.

What bargain is he talking about? Sophie transmitted.

“She is not part of this deal. Let. Her. Go,” Keefe said, ignoring Sophie’s question.

“Tsk, tsk. If only we could. But now that she’s here, I’d be so sad to see her go,” Fintan said, glee dripping from every word. A small flame flickered to life in Brant’s hand, and Keefe shrank back.

“If you hurt her, I won’t give you the cache!” Sophie heard this but didn’t have time to react before strong invisible arms wrapped around her neck in a chokehold.

“Keefe,” she gasped hoarsely, “What are you talking about?”

But she has a sinking feeling in her stomach. There are better, safer ways to rescue your mom. You don’t have to trade the cache for this. Please, Keefe. A tear rolled silently down her cheek.

This is the only way, Foster. You wouldn’t be here if you had just gone home!

You know I couldn’t do that.

Fintan ordered Keefe to get the cache, and Sophie watched as Keefe quietly said, “Two twenty-one B Baker Street,” shock and betrayal coursing through her veins.

The cache popped into Keefe's hand, and Alvar immediately grabbed it, tucking it into a concealed pocket on his robe.

How could you? Sophie’s mental question was more sad than angry, but Keefe still didn’t respond.

“Miss Foster, I assume you and Mr. Sencen are communicating telepathically. Much fun as it is to watch you silently struggle, this would go a lot quicker if you would both listen to the terms at hand.” Fintan said, gesturing to Brant.

The scarred elf stepped closer, the heat of the Everblaze in his hand making Sophie sweat. “All you have to do,” he said to Keefe, grabbing Sophie’s monocle pendant and holding it in his fire, “is take this pretty little swan and brand your moonlark. If you do that, we’ll let her go free and you come with us.”

“If not,” Alvar interrupted, “Fintan will start giving Sophie some very painful scars.”

Keefe’s face crumpled and he transmitted, I’m so sorry. I know you’re going to hate me now.

I could never hate you, she assured him, although she grew less and less sure of that as he took the pendant and stepped up to Sophie.

His ice-blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and Sophie tried one last time. “Please, Keefe. Why are you doing this?”

“Last night…I got more memories back,” he whispered.

“I still don’t understand why you would join them,” she said. Alvar was nearly choking her, and she was getting very lightheaded.

“You were raised to be the hero. I was raised to be something…else.” He brushed his hand over her necklace. “I wanted you to have this, in case someday–”

“Heartwarming as this is,” Fintan cut in, “We’re running out of time. And patience.” The last word had a deadly undertone and the tears in Keefe’s eyes spilled over as he raised the pendant to Sophie’s face. It was glowing red from the Everblaze. Sophie didn’t want to imagine how much pain it would cause.

But she didn’t have to imagine.

All of a sudden, Keefe squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the red-hot swan against the side of Sophie’s neck. She screamed, thrashing in Alvar’s arms, but he held her tight. Bright white pain exploded behind her eyes, and she wanted it to take her far, far away.

To a place where she wouldn’t have to deal with the Neverseen, or the Black Swan, or Keefe.

The white light promised rest.

Calm.

Peace.

But all too soon, she was ripped back to reality. Sophie could feel blisters bubbling up on her skin, and when she opened her eyes, Keefe had dropped the pendant. Smoke was rising from it, and her mind shied away from picturing what her neck looked like.

Brant still had a sphere of Everblaze floating above his palm, the flames crackling ominously.

“Okay,” Keefe said, his voice shaky, “I did what you asked. You have the cache. Now please, let Sophie go home.”

“Oh, did we say anything about letting her go home?” Fintan asked the others with a laugh. “Mr. Sencen, we merely said we would free her. We never specified where she would be released.”

In one fluid motion, Alvar let go of Sophie, pulled out his Pathfinder, and said, “Have fun, you four!” Then raised the crystal to the setting sun and stepped into the beam of light.

While that was happening, Fintan had summoned a ring of fire around himself, Brant, Keefe, and Sophie, and the flames were taller than she was.

No escape.

It was hard to think through the searing pain, but she was able to stay standing. Keefe held her shoulders and yelled, “You promised!” at the ancient Pyrokinetic.

“Come on,” Fintan scoffed, “Surely you’ve known us long enough to know that we don’t play fair.” With that, Fintan pulled Keefe away from Sophie and Brant took a small cloth out of his cloak. Sophie could smell the stench of the sedative, and she tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. Brant grinned as he pressed the fabric over her nose and mouth, flooding her brain with the sickeningly sweet smell.

The last thing she saw was Keefe’s anguished face, and his thoughts whispering, It’s for the best, as he and the two pyrokinetics lept away.

Then she collapsed as the ring of fire grew even taller around her.

Heat. So much heat. Her neck, her arms, her back. They were all so, so hot.

Sophie peeled her eyes open, coughing on the smoke and ash. She managed to sit up on the gritty sand, noting that she wasn’t actually on fire. But the Everblaze was raging all around her, making its way to the mountains in the distance. She guessed that a few hours had passed since–

Nope. She was not going to think about Keefe. Sophie cautiously reached up to feel her neck, then winced as she brushed her fingers over the blisters. That was going to be a permanent scar.

“Help,” she croaked, pushing herself off of the ground. The lake was nearby, promising cool water, but she didn’t trust the bloodred color. “Help,” she repeated, louder this time. Her throat scratched and her muscles ached and her mouth tasted all kinds of disgusting, but that didn’t stop her.

Anything, anyone, would be a welcome presence. With the moon high in the sky and the smoke billowing through the air, the whole place was even creepier than it was in the daytime, which was saying a lot.

She crawled to where Keefe had been standing and noticed… what was that?

Sophie picked up a small glittering bead, noting the way it shimmered in the moonlight. Was this a leaping crystal? Why had he left it–oh. It must have been for her, in case she followed him here.

Sophie let out a bark of laughter. This would have been useful a few hours ago before she got the sign of the swan branded on her neck. But…what if it wasn’t from Keefe? Maybe it led to a trap. The Neverseen could have left it here, hoping she’d leap right into one of their hideouts. But then why wouldn’t they just take her along with Keefe?

She brought the bead closer, looking for a clue. It seemed pretty ordinary, just an orb of shimmery compacted powder, but there– she saw a tiny, tiny K painted on the side.

It was from Keefe. Wow. He really thought of everything.

She held the tiny crystal up to the moonlight, hoping hoping hoping that it would work. A weak beam of light appeared, and Sophie nearly cried in relief. She stepped into the path, concentrating on the warm feathery rush of the leap as her body dissolved.

She re-formed at the entrance to Havenfield.

Home, home, safe, safe! Her mind cheered. She limped up to her house, every muscle aching. Edaline and Grady were sitting on the enormous couch, and they both leaped up when she pushed the massive doors open. Edaline rushed to give Sophie a hug while Grady said, “What happened to you?”

“I…” her voice trailed off, a lump forming in her throat. “The Neverseen,” she whispered, gently removing herself from her adoptive mom’s embrace.

“Oh, Sophie,” Edaline said, running a hand over Sophie’s cuts and bruises. She avoided the burn on her nack, and Sophie was hit with a rush of affection for her mom.

Grady rushed to their extensive medicine cabinet, grabbing an armful of elixirs and balms. Soon enough, Sophie was lying on her bed, and Elwin –in his fuzzy T-rex pajamas– was treating all of her injuries. He thankfully didn’t ask too many questions, instead letting her relax and calm down from the day’s events.

After Elwin left, Grady and Edaline brought up a cool cloth for her neck and a small vial of shimmery liquid. “It’s somnalene,” Edaline explained. “It’ll help you sleep. You need it.”

“It’s not a sedative, right?” Sophie asked.

“No, kiddo. These are like sparkly eye drops that make you feel very peaceful,” Grady explained, filling the eyedropper and positioning it over Sophie’s eye.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Edaline asked, concern clearly written all over her expression.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, Mom.”

Grady squeezed the somnalene into Sophie’s eyes, and immediately little twinkling colored lights appeared in her vision. Shortly after she settled down, her parents left, leaving her with her thoughts– and Iggy’s lawnmower-esque snore. Despite her long–long– day she was asleep in minutes.

The next morning, Sophie somehow managed to get dressed, eat breakfast, and meet with the Collective without collapsing or breaking into a fit of tears. Her neck still throbbed and her back hurt and her heart was broken, but she was going to be okay.

She was the Moonlark.

“So,” Mr. Forkle said with a sigh, “Let’s go through this again. Keefe took you to the Neverseen–”

“He didn’t take me, I grabbed onto him as he was leaping away,” Sophie interjected.

“Right. So then the Neverseen forced him to hand over the cache, and made him…” He looked quickly at the burn on her neck, his voice cracking.

Everyone got silent after that. After a moment, Granite continued quietly, “So Fintan, Brant, Alvar, and Keefe all light leaped away while you were sedated and surrounded by Everblaze.”

Grady and Sandor both looked like they wanted to punch something, so Sophie said, “But Keefe didn’t know that would happen! It was my fault.”

Edaline hugged Sophie, whispering, “What happened was not your fault. It never will be, so please don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ll try not to,” she whispered back.

Sophie straightened up, clearing her throat to prepare for what she was about to say. “Do you think Keefe is….bad?”

“I think Mr. Sencen is confused, and desperate, and afraid. But I do not think he is bad, Miss Foster,” Mr. Forkle assured her.

“So you think his guilt is making him do this.”

“Yes. He has chosen a difficult path, but I think he knows that what he is doing is incredibly reckless,” Wraith added.

“I wouldn’t be too quick to trust him,” Grady advised from the corner.

“Especially not after–that thing,” Squall said, pointing her frosty fingers at Sophie’s burn.

“What about the cache?” Sophie wondered aloud.

“We’ll deal with that later. For now, there is news I must share with you all.” Mr. Forkle said.

Sophie's mind flashed through dozens of possibilities, but nothing could have prepared her for what Mr. Forkle said next.

“Prentice is awake.”

#keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #keefe sencen #sokeefe #sophie foster #kotlc sophie #kotlc neverseen #kotlc fanfic #noir writes

28 notes · View notes

crossdressingdeath · 2 months

Text

Sera: I got caught stealing when I was little, yeah? You get alienage or worse for that, but the "Lady Emmald" took me in. She was sick and couldn't have children. I had no parents. It worked out. Anyway, she gets a year sicker, so I ask about her cookies. Because mums make cookies. I can pass that down, or something. Turns out, she couldn't cook. She missed that talk with her mum. The ones she "made" she bought and pretended. Aw, right? Well, no, she was a bitch. She hid buying them by keeping me away from the baker. She did that by lying that he didn't like me, didn't like elves. She let me hate so she could protect her pride. I hated him so much, and I hated... Well, she died, and I hate pride. "Pride cookies."

I wish Sera's story had actually... y'know, done something with this. Show her working through her shit and improving as a person! Hell, even have her acknowledge that this little plan only worked because so many people hate elves that "the baker hates elves" wasn't worth questioning. But instead this is the only time anything about this comes up. And I won't lie, the petty, grumpy part of me does wonder if that's because the rest of her backstory (the street kid taken in by a kindly noblewoman who caught her stealing and instead of turning her in to the guards raised her as her own and left her a fortune in her will only for it to be stolen from her by the government because she was an elf) doesn't fit the whole Robin Hood schtick the game keeps trying to pretend she has. They could've focused on that, the fact that even being a noblewoman with a good-sized fortune wasn't enough to protect Sera from anti-elf prejudice! But that would've required her writing acknowledging that elves are the epitome of "little people" in Thedas and DAI does not like elves one bit, so of course it doesn't do that.

And I won't lie, this backstory is like... okay, it's not that it's not sad, but in comparison to the wide array of horrors that everyone else has going on it feels... kind of boring? The noblewoman who took her in, raised her as her own and left her a fortune lied about a random baker hating elves (with zero mention that she ever did anything else so much as unkind to Sera). That's unfortunate. Cole's currently terrified about being controlled by Corypheus, Solas's friend has been captured and tortured because it doesn't count as a person to most people, Josie has assassins after her for trying to keep her family from destitution, the love of Vivienne's life is dying, Leliana is facing the fallout of her dear friend's death and those are just the companion quests that I currently have active. I've already dealt with the reveal that Dorian's father nearly tried magical conversion therapy on him that might have left him a vegetable and only didn't because he left first, Bull having to choose between the religion he's served his whole life and his family in the Chargers, and Cassandra learning that the leader she respected and looked up to was infecting Seekers with red lyrium and that she was made Tranquil as an initiation rite. I haven't even started Blackwall having to face up to the crimes of his past because he finds he can't run from them anymore. Basically Sera's thing could've been a big meaningful backstory... if it wasn't for how completely overshadowed it is by everyone else's shit and how Bioware does literally nothing with it.

#dragon age inquisition #sera critical #more sera's writing critical but y'know

21 notes · View notes

soulsbleedink · 4 months

Text

𝙎𝙀𝙉𝙀𝘾𝘼 | 𝙍𝘼𝙔𝙇𝘼 𝙓 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙐𝙈

Prompt: [Written while listening to Seneca by Novo Amor!] Rayla's been on a mission and she misses Katolis, specifically the high mage. So she decides to pay them all a visit, namely Callum.

Warning[s]: None! It's all fluff :D

Pairing: Rayla x Callum

Word count: 1.7k

masterlist

i just had to write some rayllum, i was losing it, and they were going to get my sanity back /j. but really, i love them sm, theyre so precious, so of course! i know rayla may seem a bit soft, so i'm sorry- i'm not extremely good at writing her character, yet. anyways, my beloveds <3 have fun reading!!

Rayla’s footsteps were soft but agile as she sped across the acres of dirt, inching closer to the land where she’d first met Callum. She stopped to catch her breath, her gaze caught on the looming castle of Katolis. With a slight bounce to her step, she tread forward. Upon entering the streets that led up to the castle gates, she was quite happy to find that no one paid any attention to the fact that she was an elf. Life buzzed around her, the heady smell of baked goods lingering in the air, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips at the soft sounds of children giggling flitting in from a side street.

Just a bit farther were the castle gates, and the village was further back, now much quieter. The breeze whispered in her ears and before her hand could touch the rough wood of the door, it slid open, just a crack. And a certain blond appeared between the cracks, his eyes piercing her soul, but then they softened.

“Rayla!” Soren reached out for her and she braced herself for a bone crushing hug, and bone crushing hug she got. His arms wrapped around her torso and lifted her into the air, all air knocked out of her lungs.

“Soren, put me down…” She mumbled, barely wheezing the words out. And slowly, her airways weren’t so restricted anymore. When her feet touched the ground she almost considered kissing it for a moment. She inhaled as much air as possible.

“What brought you here?” Soren asked, walking back into the castle grounds, Rayla beside him. She let her eyes gaze over the rough stone walls, the passing workers, the baker she only briefly remembered, or did she even—Now was not the time. Opeli was walking next to him while he carried a tray of jelly tarts, a smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I just wanted to visit Ezran,” She said, as if that was the full reason, but then again she wasn’t entirely lying.

“Oh, I know it’s about Callum.” Since when had Soren gotten so good at reading minds? “It’s written all over your face.”

Rayla huffed, but warmth crawled up her neck at the mention of the high mage. She refused to agree or disagree, hoping it would fly past him. Well, it didn’t. The next time she looked up at him, he was wiggling his eyebrows and his armour clanged loudly when he shoulder-bumped Rayla. But the murderous expression on her face was apparently something he wasn’t scared of, because he laughed out loud, his laughter a burst of joy swept away with the breeze when he finally quieted down. She sighed, she didn’t hate it, not truly; at least. Some part of her kind of wanted to have that every day, little moments of joy with her friends, and him.

“Woah, you look like you’ve missed him,” Soren said, the lightest tint of laughter still threatening to spill over the threshold of his mouth, Rayla grunted. “Dare I say heart eyes?”

She was ready to swing a joking punch but from within one of the doors leading into the main castle a head of brown curls appeared, his stark red attire and silver crown always noticeable in the gleaming sunlight. Ezran turned around, his blue eyes fixating on Rayla and the biggest smile she’d seen in so long sliding onto his face. He didn’t waste a second longer when he made a beeline straight for her and sped over the rough stone, Bait trying his hardest to keep up with Ezran’s gait.

“Rayla!” He jumped into her arms, and she caught him, hugging him as his hair tickled her chin. Bait grunted and she grinned down at him.

She let Ezran down, ruffling his hair, his crown now tilted. She reached down, fixing it. “How’ve ya been, Ez? Thought I’d visit you.” The grin on her face said it all.

He smiled, letting the words linger in the air. “You don’t have to lie.” Apparently everyone here could read her like a book, and she was not having it. The sun was already beating down at her, and the heat collecting under her leather assassin attire was uncomfortable.

“Who’s lying?” She asked, rather unconvincingly too, much to her own chagrin. But behind those words was a heart beating quickly within her chest, and her eyes wanting to stray towards a specific direction, up to the door that led into his quarters. And she just knew he was in there.

“I won’t hold you back much longer, you can go, but thank you for visiting!” He said, cheery as ever. She didn’t acknowledge the first part of the sentence verbally but smiled anyway, catching his gaze once before she received a sharp jab between her shoulder blades, most probably from Soren. She grunted, stumbling forward and catching her pace.

Her feet carried her across the remaining few steps, mind buzzing in a whole new dimension. She reached out, hand hesitating on the wood. Should she knock? Should she wait—When had she gotten so tentative?

She wasn’t allowed the chance to ponder on that. The door slid open, creaking on its hinges. A familiar, far too familiar face appeared in the doorway. She smiled, well, she thought she did.

Because Callum didn’t change too much, again, of course he wouldn’t. It had only been a few weeks, and it should’ve been a few more; but her heart longed to be back at Katolis. The catalyst to everything. She missed Ezran and his jelly tarts, Soren and his jokes, and most importantly; Callum. Her high mage.

“You’re a few weeks early,” He said, raising an eyebrow at her. But his tone didn’t sound like he minded one bit.

She laughed. “Yeah, most of what they need is collected, thought I’d pay you a visit.” She shrugged.

“Sure you didn’t just miss me?” He asked, teasing; of course.

She shoved him in the shoulder, playfully. He stumbled back, placing a hand over his heart, feigning disbelief and whatever heartbreak he could muster. She burst into chuckles, stepping inside when he beckoned her closer.

Her eyes roamed the room. Trinkets scattered the tables, the shelves, even the walls. And fuzzy crimson curtains hung over the window, open so only just a sliver of sunlight was let into the room. She couldn’t blame him for that; it was hot. Or maybe it was her Moonshadow elf preference for cooler temperatures. Anyways, she didn’t linger on it. She walked over to a shelf with books, and ran her fingers over the leathery spines.

“What a nerd.” She huffed in amusement. Then turned around when she heard creaking. Callum had sat down on a couch, smiling and shrugging.

She tilted her head, making her way over and plopping next to him. He turned to her, eyes lingering on the books that she was touching a few seconds ago, but then those beautiful brown eyes were on her. And her breath hitched in her throat. Suddenly, the room felt warmer too.

“Well, I need all the resources I can get to learn about magic, of course,” He started, his eyes never leaving her face, and she kind of wanted to curse him, “I’m literally the high mage!”

“I’m sure that even a wee elfling could tell that much.” She laughed. “I missed seeing that excited face of yours.” And your love for knowledge, about magic namely.

“I missed you too, but where did sappy Rayla come from?” He asked, surprised for just a moment before his face fell back into that teasing amusement. “Are you the real one?” He raised a brow, placing a hand on his chin in mock scrutiny.

“Am I?” She feigned confusion, but then he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. And she finally managed to meet his eyes for longer than a few seconds.

They stared at each other, and he leaned closer, and she did too. But then they burst into fits of laughter, her head falling on his shoulder as he slapped her shoulder playfully.

She truly did miss him, and being with him, and everything that reminded her of this place.

“Thanks for getting back early, Ez was getting a bit lonely without Zym and Corvus around as often,” He mentioned, his voice muffled by her hair, the hum of his words lulling her into a comfort and peace that she related to being with Runaan and Ethari.

“What about Soren?” She scooted closer, his arm going around her shoulder and pulling her head onto his shoulder. Then his head rested on hers.

“He’s been training, says he wants to be the best crown guard there is.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t look up, she stared at the sliver of sunlight on the wooden floor. It reminded her of him. He was kind of like sunlight, but in fleeting moments, in the early morning when it was a bit weaker, but it wasn’t so strong it made you feel like you were burning into a crisp. He was like sunlight that filtered through curtains, warmth that you could bask in, that made you feel like you were at home. He was the type of sunlight you got in autumn, the type you wanted to linger around, and the type you place your hand under and watch the shadows that form. She wasn’t ever really poetic, but for Callum? She could be, if she tried.

“He’s really dedicated—” He was saying, and she barely caught on, but placed a hesitant hand on his other one. He stopped, the words catching somewhere in his throat, and she could feel the quickening beat of his heart near her ear. Almost like it jumped to his throat. She didn’t stop the smile that graced her lips at the thought.

“Ez deserves that, he deserves that love,” She mumbled. Faintly, she could feel the nod of Callum’s head against hers.

“He really does.”

“And so do you.” She didn’t know where that came from, but it made Callum’s heart beat even faster. The warmth creeped up her face and she cleared her throat, prompting him to laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest, up his spine, to her.

She relaxed into his touch, fearing that if she spoke, she’d say something that she would cringe about later. So she let herself sit in silence, with him. Although it wasn’t really silent, he kept on talking. But she was content listening too. Especially when it was him.

She liked listening to him. Or being with him, she guessed.

#tdp #the dragon prince #rayllum #rayla x callum #rayla missed the high mage okay?#ezran is sweet #im not sure when this would take place #but i tried.#fluff #rayllum fluff!#and maybe a slight slight thought about how rayla and runaan may be similar #because emotional constipation #just a bit.#i didnt mention directly #but if you squint you can see it

13 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 2 years

Note

Hi! do you have any fic recs about sherlock and john having to share a bed for a number of reasons for example they go to an inn and there is only one bed left!! do you also have any recs for sleepy sherlock. Thank you so much!

Hi Nonny!

You're in luck, I love bedsharing fics, and I'm going to use your list as an excuse to post up my next part!! Check these out:

BED SHARING Pt. 6

See also

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

Bed Sharing Pt. 3

Bed Sharing Pt. 4

Bed Sharing Pt. 5

Sleepy Fics

The Last Room At The End of The Hall by Corporate_cards (G, 219 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff) – All things can wait, for finally things work, in the last room at the end of the hall. Part 1 of Random Things I've Written In Class -- Johnlock

Octopus by glass_rose_paperweight (G, 705 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Bed Sharing, Limpet Sherlock) – A week after Sherlock and John finally get together, and John is finding sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes to be ... difficult, sometimes. If not downright suffocating.

A Comprehensive Taxonomy of Tobacco-Ash by Silvergirl (E, 11,475 w., 2 Ch. || No TRF AU || Cranky Sherlock, Alternating POV’s, Self-Esteem Issues, Jealous John, Pining John, Confessions, First Kiss, Frottage, Bed Sharing, Sensuality, Cuddling, Touching) – A handsome academic approaches Sherlock about publishing his magnum opus on tobacco-ash in a prestigious scientific journal. Sherlock is quite flattered and flustered, and John’s nose is out of joint.In this little AU there is no Fall and no Mary. Instead, there is humor and smut. Truly a disproportionate amount of smut.

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

A Hooligans’ Game Played By Gentlemen by scullyseviltwin (E, 15,213 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Rugby as Foreplay, Porn with Lots of Plot, John POV, Ogling, Body Appreciation, Cranky Sherlock, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Touching, Heavy Petting, Blow Job, Botttomlock) – In which John wants to get back in shape, does so, joins a rugby league and has sex with Sherlock Holmes. In that order.

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Domestic Matters by ohlooktheresabee (M, 29,404 w., 6 Ch. || Fantasy AU || First Meetings, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, BAMF Sherlock, BAMF John, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Supernatural Elements, Implied / Referenced Child Abuse, Elf Sherlock, Human/Elf Politics, Emotional Abuse, Possessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Buddy Greg) – All flatmates need to work out domestic matters between them - who does the dishes, who takes out the rubbish, how often does the carpet need to be vacuumed - these are part and parcel of sharing a living space together. However, when you’re an elf and your flatmate is going to be a human you just met, this rather complicates things…Very loosely inspired by 'The Elves and The Shoemaker' by The Brothers Grimm.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION|| Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

You Might Just as Well Be Blind by ArwaMachine (E, 56,625 w., 12 Ch. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Bed Sharing, Platonic Cuddling, Jealous Sherlock, Oblivious John, BAMF Hudders, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Case Fic, Flirting, Pining John, POV John, Toplock, Possessive Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Infidelity) – When a serial killer starts targeting couples, Sherlock and John must do what they have to do in order to get to the bottom of things. Unfortunately, John already has a girlfriend. Surely pretending to be in a relationship with Sherlock won't pose any problems with his relationship, will it?

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being. Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #bed sharing fics #bedsharing fics #sleepy fics

150 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 2 years

Text

The pie whisperer

Summary: Dean gets lost and found.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Baker!Reader

Square 25 filled for Lulu’s XMAS Bingo: Lonely on Christmas

Square 20 filled for @spnchristmasbingo: Pie

Square 2 filled for @anyfandomaubingo: Baker!Reader

Warnings: none, fluff maybe

Words: 600+

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Dean doesn’t know why he strolls through the deserted streets. He puffs out a huff and rubs his arms with his hands.

“Freezing my ass off wasn’t in my plans. Thanks for nothing Sammy,” the hunter grumbles. His brother wanted them to check on yet another mysterious death, only for Sam to run off with Eileen to find a specific book. “If you want to get laid, warn me next time.”

“Sir, can I help you?” he cocks his head to glance at you. “You look a little lost. Do you want me to show you the way?”

“I was looking for—” he shrugs. Dean doesn’t know what he was looking for. “Food.” He clears his throat. “What I meant is that I was looking for a restaurant.”

“Oh, this,” you jab your finger over your shoulder, “is my bakery. If you are hungry, you can eat here.” You won’t miss the chance to lure in yet another customer. Christmas Eve or not. You need the money.

“Bakery,” he gasps audibly. “Do you have pie? Real pie. Not the crap they wanted to sell me at the other bakery. They called it pie, but it was cake. Cake! I hate cake. I want pie.”

“Well then,” you snicker as he hopefully looks at you, “you got lost in the right place. Follow me inside if you want some pie. I’ll grant you the Christmas discount for lonely hearts.”

“I’m not lonely,” you unlock the backdoor of your little bakery to let him in. “I don’t celebrate Christmas. My brother is out and about with a friend or his girlfriend. I don’t know, to be honest. They didn’t put a label on it yet.”

“You don’t celebrate Christmas. How sad,” letting him inside you sigh. “I have to work on Christmas Eve to make some more money. Holidays seasons always mean fast cash.”

“Fash cash, huh?” you close the door behind him and lock it. “Did you lure me in to make more money, miss?”

“Nah, I was bored, and you looked like you need food and hot cocoa,” you shrug. “Do you want some pie and a hot beverage or not, Sir?”

“Dean,” he says while looking around your little bakery. “Why are you not at home and celebrating Christmas?”

“My parents worked all their life. Six years ago, they gave me half of the money I need to open my bakery. I wanted to pay them back and gifted two tickets to Paris to them for Christmas.”

“You’re alone on Christmas too.”

“Kinda. I chose to be alone on Christmas to make the people I love happy,” smiling softly you watch Dean sit down at one of the few tables at your little bakery. “It’s only one Christmas. And I made a lot of money.”

“Hmm…” he nods thoughtfully. “What kind of pie do you have?”

“Whatever your heart desires,” you give him a wink. “People call me the pie whisperer for a reason. My bakery is named the pie whisperer too.

”The pie whisperer,” Dean smirks. “I like it.”

“Now, tell me what you want Dean.”

“Do you have pecan pie?” he hopefully looks at you. “Or apple pie.”

“Pecan pie it is.”

Dean watches you cut two slices of the pecan pie you baked this morning. He smiles as you add whipped cream.

“How did you know I was lost?” Dean asks as you carry two plates toward the table. “You seemed to appear out of nowhere too...”

“I just knew,” you place the plates onto the table. “Merry Christmas, Dean. I’m glad you found your way to my little bakery.”

Dean smiles as you turn back around to get two mugs of hot cocoa. He’s got no clue when you made it, but it smells delicious and he won’t say no to pie and hot cocoa.

Fate is a funny thing. If Dean didn't get lost in the streets on Christmas Eve, he would’ve never met you.

A rogue half-elf wanting to give the people losing faith a little hope on Christmas.

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #spnchristmasbingo #dean winchester x you #anyfandomaubingo #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #the pie whisperer

169 notes · View notes

broodwolf221 · 11 months

Text

sera meta!

i love her soooo much - if not for solas, she'd be hands-down my favorite character from inquisition. so it's long past time i did a meta post for her <3

this is gonna be long and i added a lot of her relevant dialogue to it

meta overview: sera is young, traumatized, has deep-seated internalized racism, and has never had an opportunity to be vulnerable or to safely express herself. she's also autistic af imo

part 1: her past

she was presumably born into an alienage, and as @skip-the-clumsy-dragon reminded me recently, city elves are expected to get married and have children. this is a realistic thing for them to prioritize (and dalish likely have the same priority) given the fact that they're an endangered culture. however, sera's a lesbian - to grow up in a society that tells her that she has to marry an elven man and have his children would've been incredibly ostracizing to her. the elves made her feel broken, directly or indirectly, and i think that's something a lot of queer people can relate to.

while only the last part is related, this bit of banter between her and solas is interesting in terms of her being a lesbian:

Sera: (shivers) Weird. Solas: Sera? What are you feeling? Sera: Ugh, here we go. It’s nothing, it just feels like I've seen this. Exactly this. It happens. Solas: Not to everyone. Sera: It’s not an elf thing. You’re not shaking. Sera: I suppose now you’ll switch to how I’m the same but different? Solas: You are different. You are the furthest from what you were meant to be. Sera: Well I’ve definitely heard piss like this before. Hmph!

she was adopted by the lady emmald, which looks fine at first, but as we're shown during the cookie scene, emmald didn't really care about sera. more than likely, she cared about what sera could do for her (a sort of live-in, unpaid servant in a child who she 'saved' from the streets) and the social esteem she'd get for 'rescuing' a 'poor elf' - lady emmald was the racist one, and the user, not the baker she blamed

Sera: I got caught stealing when I was little, yeah? You get alienage or worse for that, but the “Lady Emmald” took me in. She was sick and couldn’t have children. I had no parents. It worked out. Anyway, she gets a year sicker, so I ask about her cookies. Because mums make cookies. I can pass that down, or something. Turns out, she couldn’t cook. She missed that talk with her mum. The ones she “made” she bought and pretended. Aw, right? Well, no, she was a bitch. She hid buying them by keeping me away from the baker. She did that by lying that he didn’t like me, didn’t like elves. She let me hate so she could protect her pride. I hated him so much, and I hated… She looks away again. Sera: Well, she died, and I hate pride. “Pride cookies.”

"I hated him so much, and I hated... [being an elf]" is the obvious conclusion. and again, it makes sense - her people wanted her to play a role she couldn't, and wouldn't, play - and her adoptive mother allowed her to hate and hate so that she could protect her own pride.

Inquisitor: I don’t understand. This Lady Emmald was just trying to be good to you. Sera: She hurt people. Inquisitor: It was just cookies. Sera: It was not just cookies! Lie to herself? Fair play, only hurts her. But she made me think there was something wrong with me! And the baker! I made his life shit. Why not? It seemed like he deserved it. I mean, “if you don’t give a child a cookie because of appearances, you’re a monster.” Stupid, pride-whore noble. She pauses. Sera: I know, I said it was stupid. That’s why I want to get rid of it. I want to make better cookies.

she keeps calling herself stupid. she's angry and hurting and trying to be vulnerable, and when her vulnerability isn't supported she immediately resorts to calling herself stupid, making her feelings smaller, insulting herself before she can be insulted by the inquisitor, someone she's grown close to

Inquisitor: It is stupid. You dragged me here to bad-mouth a sad, dead woman. Sera: It’s not about that. Feelings are hard, all right? Inquisitor: Not for an adult! Sera: Bullshit! And I’m trying to say I like it here! I thought you’d want to know that, and eat my shitty cookies! / Sera: I just thought you’d want to know that I think you’re pretty great! That I made you shitty cookies!

"not for an adult" - sera is by far the youngest companion. and she's never had the opportunity to even begin unpacking her own trauma, until maybe haven/skyhold, depending on how your inquisitor treats her. but she is still an adult, and while this argument shows a lot of her feelings, it was really hard to even read thru 💀

part 2: red jenny

after emmald, she ended up on the streets again. she was taken in by the red jennies. by this point she has personal cause to dislike elves and elven culture, and to dislike nobles - but she doesn't really hate humans, which is understandable considering that she's surrounded by them. she sees that they get treated like shit sometimes, too. her alliances are not and have never been along racial lines, but class divisions: she looks out for the "little people", which in her case means the poor, the unhoused, or those in servitude.

the fact that she doesn't live in the alienage means she's surrounded by human faith. i've discussed this before in prior metas, but in thedas, andrastianism or however it'd be spelled is likely not optional - it's presumed and absolute. christianity was like this too, in medieval times, the church was the core of cities and everyone was expected to be faithful. theres' an immense sociocultural pressure towards religious conformity that everyone is exposed to even if they don't personally go to the church/pray/etc. - it's just baked into the culture. the chant is everywhere. and people internalize stuff they're surrounded by, that's natural

so she's out here angry, bitter, finally able to be 'just' sera with the jennies, not expected to breed for them or to take their shit, allowed to be exactly who she is... and at the same time, she's immersed in chantry culture. she wants a parent, she wants someone who cares for her no matter what. she keeps hearing that it's andraste and the maker who will care for her.

Inquisitor: Odd that you’d ask Andraste over your own gods. Sera: “My” gods? Whatever. They don’t talk any more than she does. Not like she’s supposed to. I know what happened to you, or what everyone here thinks happened. It seems… I don’t know what it seems.

part 3: her behavior

she's outwardly callous and irreverent a lot of the time, but that stems from a mix of things, primarily: humor as a coping mechanism and having seen so much shit in her life. she talks about food a lot, but this bit of banter with blackwall explains why really clearly:

Sera: Hey, do you think they'll have pie when we get back? I could use a pie. Or three. Blackwall: That's... a lot of pie for one person. Sera: You'd understand if you've ever been hungry. In your bones hungry.

she also has a really grounded view of mages. it's not perfect, she's very afraid of magic - as she's been taught to be. i think people get caught up in the mage freedom angles the games have been showing us and forget that within the games context, mages are fucking scary and people are scared of them. i'm staunchly pro-mage, but it's useless to ignore the context they exist within

Sera: I knew a funny boy in Denerim. Started fires with his eyes. Templars nabbed him right quick, so he's better now, I guess? Dorian: Better? Do you know what your southern Circles are like? Sera: Meals and training? So he wouldn't starve or get stomped by a mob? I've seen both. Dorian: (Sighs.) You're sadly right.

circles are bad but also? she's right. training, room and board... when it's living in a circle vs. being killed on the street, i think most people would choose the former, even with all the inherent difficulties and the oppression of it, the abuses by the templars, all of it. because at least you're alive. and the training is important. it's all kinds of wrong the way it's structured, but mages do need training, there's no denying that - even in cultures that don't lock up their mages, they still need to test them, to train them

and she has a very practical, very grounded perspective on nobles and who would suffer in a massive revolution. when solas starts recommending guerilla warfare tactics to her, she shuts him down - not because his ideas are wrong, but because she can see ahead to all the harm it'd cause the exact people she's trying to protect

Solas: Once you have the aristocracy weakened, Sera, you will have to redirect your lieutenants. Sera: Oh, this again. All right, what am I doing? Solas: Some of your forces, valuable until now, have no interests beyond creating disruption. Chaos for its own sake. They must be repositioned where they can do no harm, or removed if necessary. You replace them with organizers willing to build a new system and carry out the ugly work that must be done. Sera: What? Why? What ugly work? Solas: That is up to you. Do you wish to disrupt the nobility, secure a title? Or change the political structure entirely? Sera: None of it! I don't want any of that!

Solas: I do not understand you, Sera. You have no end goal for your organization. Sera: Nobles get rattled, and people get payback. I play in the middle. Solas: Why not go all the way? You see injustice, and you have organized a group to fight it. Don't you want to replace it with something better? Sera: What, just lop off the top? What's that do, except make a new top to frig it all up? Solas: I…forgive me. You are right. You are fine as you are. Sera: You hurt my head sometimes, Solas. Solas: Yes, I have been known to do that.

conclusion:

sera is one of the most important characters in dai specifically because of the perspective she brings to the table. she's the average person. she's scared of mages and magic. she's scared of templars. she's scared of the grey wardens. she's young and tries so hard. she lived through the blight. she's traumatized af. she feels like she has no culture that will accept her as she is. the first people to accept her, to just see sera, are the red jennies, and she happily joins them. she offers herself to the inquisition despite being scared of it because a part of her wants to help and another part wants answers - but is scared of getting them at the same time.

Herald: But where do you stand on the war? Sera: In the frigging middle, with everyone else. Sera: You know what I hear about mages? Nothing until one goes all demony. Know what I hear about templars? Nothing, until they take “maybe-mages.”

she's a queer city elf who's expected to marry another elf and have his children. she's a poor elven child who's supposed to be grateful that she was offered a good life by a noble. she's never had a space where she was able to work through all her issues, or even begin looking at them for real - but when she does have that space, she is surprisingly vulnerable with people. the cookies are important because it's her biggest show of vulnerability - she's revealing her past and one of the things that haunts her most, and she's actively trying to change the context, to disrupt a childhood trauma with new, better memories

#broodmeta #sera dai #okay i could honestly keep talking about her but this is enough. this is more than enough. this is long af.#i want to talk abt her fear being nothing and how that ties so deeply into her character #i want to talk abt the low approval fight she has with the inky #but aaa.... this is good. this covers most of it.#minor edits

30 notes · View notes

fandomchokehold · 7 months

Text

ok I finally made Samson's card for @bareee @tav-dex !!!!!

These are his starting lvl 1 cantrips and spells

Class Action - Bardic Inspiration

Race Cantrip - Chill Touch

Bard Cantrips - Vicious Mockery & Blade Ward

Spells - Cure Wounds, Healing Word, Speak with Animals, & Dissonant Whispers

with each level up the cantrips, spells, and abilities he gains fall under healing and necromancy

Screenshots and summarized backstory & fun facts below the cut!

and some cute screenshots from his and Gale's weave date 🥰

Short Backstory:

Samson was born in Elmwood, south of the Moonsea, to a sun elf woman named Thalia and human man named Lonán. His father was a nature domain cleric of Lathander and his mother was a light domain cleric of Kelemvor, but by the time they settled and had Sam they were just simple village bakers. When Samson was 7 his father succumbed to his lifelong battle with a chronic illness (in modern terms it would be autoimmune vasculitis), and after 4 years of grieving him, Sam's mother decided to follow Lonán into the afterlife.

After his mother's death he was sent to Calimport to live under the care of his maternal Uncle and his wife; they weren't horribly abusive, never raising a hand at him, but they did not approve of his desire to study medicine and necromancy and instead tried to force him into the family business of heavily corrupt politics. Sam obviously was not thrilled with this life prospect and decided, after a year of living with them, to make a mad dash for Waterdeep.

At age 12 he stowed away on a ship in the harbor and was allowed to sail with them for 3 years, departing in the City of Splendors at 15 after making lifelong friends of the crew and gaining the necessary skills that enabled him to survive alone on the streets in Waterdeep. After being a transient for half a year he met Odette, the cranky duergar monk who let him crash on her couch as payment for healing up her infected amputated leg. It was always supposed to be a temporary living situation but, whether she wanted to admit it or not, the kid lit up her dreary life like nothing else and she basically just kept him as the younger brother she never had.

It was just the two of them for 15 years since meeting until one night when Samson happened upon a roughed up noble in the alley outside his and Odette's flat. Wren, a human sorcerer who couldn't have been older than 21, was more than happy to let Samson heal them and assured the half-elf and duergar that they would be paid handsomely if they allowed the noble to stay with them for just a week as there were some "unsavory types" looking for them... unsavory types who happened to bear their family's crest. Sam and Odette did not bother questioning it.

So a week came and went, then another, and another, and Wren just never really left. Samson was thrilled to have made a friend and roommate while Odette was just happy to have extra help with the expenses. They were an unwavering, unbreakable dynamic trio for five more years until they got snatched up in the street by the Nautiloid.

*so basically in my head Samson, Odette, and Wren were all out in Waterdeep when the Mindflayers attacked and all got snatched up at the same time, escaped together with Shadowheart & Lae'zel, and are running around the world as the wavering falling-apart-at-the-seams dynamic trio

**sorry if the inclusion of Wren and Odette in this was confusing it's just cuz they play an important role in Samson's life and I would be posting about them a lot like with Sam but I just haven't played as them or my dark urge Lior yet cuz I'm still rocking with my slow af first playthrough

***if anyone cares cuz they all exist together during the events of the game Samson is romancing Gale, Odette romances Karlach, Wren romances Halsin, and Lior the dark urge is aroace in game but in my mind him and Gortash get to have a Good Omens season 2 Gabriel and Beelzebub style romance ending where they just kinda fuck off to the Caribbean post Netherbrain

Fun Facts About Samson Silversten!

he's a really good baker but can't cook for shit

he's ambidextrous

his dad Lonán was Irish so Sam has an Irish accent; he sounds like Hozier both speaking and singing (lemme live in delulu land okay???)

he knows four languages: Common, Elvish, Gaelic, and Common Sign Language

can usually be found engrossed in a necromantic tome or copying medical illustrations into his personal journal

he's autistic (me when I project onto my OCs) in a resting bitch face, deadpan, lackluster reactions unless it's something he's really passionate about way

can get frustrated with tasks easily and go temporarily non-verbal; he never lockpicks, it's gotten to the point if they happen upon something locked Astarion will just rifle through Samson's bag and take his thieves tools without asking to avoid him getting upset

he's tall and thin and gangly as hell (think Julian Devorak physique)

he has heterochromia, his right eye (your left) is brown while his left eye (your right) is a golden hazel

he's demisexual homoromantic (i.e. can only feel sexually attracted to people he knows well and is romantically attracted to, only feels romantic attraction for men)

he loves going for early morning swims and can hold his breath for a concerning amount of time

the skills he picked up on The Daybreaker (the ship he stowed away on) were knot tying, star navigation, fishing, sailing, and basic sword fighting

he has several nicknames; everyone calls him Samson or Sam, Wren calls him Freckles (affectionately, they love him so much), when they're married Gale calls him Sunlight or Sunshine, Captain Aamiina of The Daybreaker calls him her guri dambeys, but the only person alive allowed to call him Sammy is Odette

he's not as hairy as Gale but he has body hair on his arms, legs, chest, and happy trail

he's absolutely covered in freckles, the ones in areas often exposed to the sun darker than the rest; has 100% said something cheesy along the lines of "you shouldn't kiss me, I don't need more freckles" to imply the person he's saying it to is an angel

wow that sure was a lot I am so sorry have these screenshots of Samson looking directly into the camera like he's on The Office as a departing gift!

#Tav-Dex #tav dex template #tav template #samson silversten #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 tav

14 notes · View notes

anneapocalypse · 2 years

Text

Too Many Thoughts About Sera: A Love Letter

This post was originally part of a big long write-up I did after my first complete playthrough of Inquisition a few years ago and posted on dreamwidth and later here. It has been slightly edited to stand on its own here, but it's mostly the same. I thought it might be worth it post it as a standalone, so here is a slightly less analytical and more feelingsy post about Why I Love Sera So Much.

I understand not everyone likes Sera and that's completely okay but I am going to request that you refrain from outright dumping on her or making personal attacks on her writer on this post.

If you're interested in my more recent efforts at an in-depth analysis of Sera's character and background, you can check out my Sera Series.

Knowing my affinity for difficult, complicated, "unlikable" female characters, I was probably doomed from the start. But the truth is I did not go into this knowing I would love Sera. I just wanted to get to know her, regardless of how I ended up feeling about her. So I romanced her with my mage Trevelyan, the first Inquisitor I actually finished.

And at the end of that journey... yeah, I love Sera. I love her a lot.

So let's talk about Sera. As a character, as a companion, and as a love interest, because in this playthrough I got to experience her as all three.

And disclaimer up front that I know Sera is a controversial character in the fandom and there are a variety of reasons for that, so if you don't like Sera, that's fine. Some of this may read as an impassioned defense of her, and it kind of is, but it's not a manifesto; it's mostly that I have a lot of thoughts and feelings I'm excited to share.

Sera is a city elf orphaned young and raised as the ward of a human noblewoman, Lady Emmald, an upbringing which has left her with both a troubled relationship to elven identity, and a deep hatred of the nobility. We get only a brief glimpse into Sera's childhood with Lady Emmald, as she does not like to talk about it, but we can gather that the memories that have stuck with her are not good ones, most notably the "pride cookies" story that Sera will share with the Inquisitor at a high enough level of friendship. Lady Emmald would buy cookies from a local baker and pass them off as homemade, unwilling to admit she wasn't good at baking. To keep Sera from finding out, Emmald told her the baker hated elves so that she would never go there. She led Sera to believe she was hated and to hate in return, all to protect her own pride. To this day, cookies bring up bad memories for Sera.

World of Thedas Volume 2 suggests that Sera may have inherited Lady Emmald's estate when her guardian died of illness sometime before the Blight, but rejected her inheritance, wanting nothing more to do with that life. I don't believe this ever comes up in the game, however.

As an adult, Sera is a member of the Friends of Red Jenny, a loose network of common people who collaborate across Thedas to benefit one another's interests and offer some degree of protection from or revenge for the abuses of nobles where they can. Sera's Red Jenny affiliation is a nice bit of continuity from previous games which I like a lot. The Friends of Red Jenny are first mentioned in a cryptic little side quest in Origins wherein the Warden delivers a small painted box to a location in Denerim on the instructions of a note looted from a body after an ambush, for the reward of a few gold coins. In Dragon Age II, Hawke can clear the streets of bandits and undesirables at night and return to "A Friend" in the Hanged Man for rewards; at the end of that quest line, "A Friend" is revealed to be a Friend of Red Jenny. And now in Inquisition, we have a Red Jenny companion, who brings her network of Friends and unorthodox methods to the Inquisition. (It's also suggested in the war table operation "Red Jenny and the Tantervale Charade" that Hawke's cousin Charade Amell is a Jenny operating out of Tantervale in the Free Marches, which would explain a lot about Charade's roundabout ploys to get Gamlen's attention!)

I think it's safe to say that Sera's personal identity is most strongly rooted in a kind of class consciousness; she identifies first as what she would call a "little person," a commoner.

And it's worth noting that Sera doesn't respect social climbers any more than she respects the existing nobility, which comes out a lot in her banter and in her responses to various quests. She disapproves, for example, if in "Noble Deeds, Noble Hearts" the Inquisitor gives proof of Fairbanks' noble heritage to Clara; she approves if you respect Fairbanks' wishes to keep his parentage a secret and live as a commoner. In "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts," she disapproves of reconciling Celene and Briala, but approves of any outcome that involves blackmail (either against Gaspard or against all three parties).

I think there's an interesting contrast to be had, too, between Sera and Vivienne, both of whom are characters I like and find quite interesting. And despite what you might think if you take their conversations at face value, I think their relationship is quite a bit more complicated than Vivienne being more privileged than Sera and looking down on her. Vivienne dresses, talks, and behaves like a noble, yes—but she's not a noble. Vivienne was born to Rivaini merchants and raised in the Circle of Magi, where she rose to First Enchanter of Montsimmard and then Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais—a position that according to Leliana was once "little more than Court Jester" until Vivienne herself worked to make the appointment a position of respect. Sera is elven and common-born yet inherited a noble fortune; while she probably would never have held a title in Ferelden, she could have had greater financial resources at her disposal, had she not rejected them. It's easy to forget, but both Sera and Vivienne have come from fairly humble origins, and both of them have been presented with some unique opportunities given those origins.

Vivienne holds considerable influence in Orlais for a mage, but we should not forget that she has had to work for every scrap of it. Vivienne's manner, the way she approaches every situation with confidence and poise and her head held high, is just how one survives in Orlais. If you're not looking down at someone, you're looking up at them, and if you're looking up you're under someone's boot. On the one hand I don't love the way Vivienne treats Sera, especially a romanced Sera; on the other hand I must admit that "It's nothing personal, darling. I am demonstrably better than most" is an absolutely sick burn and I did laugh. (These days, I am frequently more amused by companion acrimony than I probably should be; I think somewhere around DA2 I just gave up on being bothered when companions don't like each other and instead embraced the comedy gold that often comes with it.)

There's a delightful little bit of party banter where Blackwall (who shares much of Sera's distaste for the nobility) needles Vivienne a bit about how she must miss being away from the luxuries of Val Royeaux. To this, Vivienne breezily responds, "I miss them. I do not require them. But please, continue to imagine me a pampered lady, if it makes you feel superior."

I am reminded here of the ongoing tension between Solas and Sera that comes out frequently in their party banter. At one point Solas will remark that it is a shame she was "denied an elven life," and Sera fires back, "Ooh! You think the only reason I'm not elfy is because I had no choice? Poor me, right?" At multiple points Solas will offer opinions on Red Jenny. When he asks Sera, "Do you wish to disrupt the nobility, secure a title? Or change the political structure entirely?" Sera responds with dismay, "None of it! I don't want any of that!"

Set these next to each other and they show us how Sera and Vivienne are alike and how they are different. Vivienne has worked hard to achieve upward mobility, and the reward for her success is that everyone assumes she is too privileged to know anything else. Sera has deliberately rejected upward mobility (as well as "elfiness") in favor of class solidarity, and is rewarded by people assuming that she is too stupid and ignorant to have chosen anything else.

Sera and Vivienne do not like one another, and probably never would, and Vivienne especially doesn't approve of the Inquisitor romancing Sera and makes that known (I'm sure the reverse would also be true if Vivienne were romanceable, which she isn't, because the world isn't fair). Both of their identities and worldviews are rooted in a certain understanding of power and power structures, but they approach those structures completely differently. Vivienne is a climber, believing it worthwhile to try and reach the top. Sera despises climbers, preferring to stay on the ground and fire arrows upward. And yet as different as they are, they have both made very deliberate choices with regard to their social status, and both will in their own way call out the assumptions other people make about them.

I think the biggest question that arises with Sera is, if she thinks the nobility is so terrible, then why isn't she trying to actively change the existing power structure? This is certainly Solas's confusion, as expressed in this conversation:

Solas: I do not understand you, Sera. You have no end goal for your organization. Sera: Nobles get rattled, and people get payback. I play in the middle. Solas: Why not go all the way? You see injustice, and you have organized a group to fight it. Don’t you want to replace it with something better? Sera: What, just lop off the top? What’s that do, except make a new top to frig it all up? Solas: I…forgive me. You are right. You are fine as you are.

This, I think, gets at some of Sera's core beliefs about power and why she prefers to act from below rather than trying to get to the top. Sera views structural power as inherently corrupting. Anyone who makes it to the top is going to frig it up.

That's what being at the top means.

We might call it a failure of imagination on Sera's part that she doesn't seem to be able to consider the possibility of creating a different kind of power structure, only replacing who's at the top. And, well, fair enough. But consider even in our own world, with a variety of governing structures on display for us, the challenge of imagining something completely new and then envisioning a realistic path to it. (And if you've got that all figured out, let me know!)

Sera is class-conscious, Sera identifies and organizes around class-consciousness, but she is not a revolutionary. We might criticize that about her, but why lay that burden on her, specifically, when the Inquisition is packed to the gills with people who have far more structural power than Sera? This setting is full of injustices, but it is worth questioning why the burden of righting them should be laid on this character, specifically, when she is already dedicated to helping other "little people" in smaller and less risky ways.

Once the Inquisitor gets friendly with Sera, they can ask her more about herself, about where she's from. In this conversation she'll talk about the Red Jennies in Denerim where she grew up, and she'll mention that some other Jennies were "a lot more serious about being serious" and that it got some of them killed—a reminder that Sera's "little people" have plenty to lose. And Sera really hates anyone who gets less powerful people hurt and killed for their own ends. I think this is really at the heart of both her visceral hatred for nobles and her passion for Red Jenny, and this becomes really clear during the "The Verchiel March," when Sera will get more and more upset if the Inquisitor keeps talking to Lord Harmond and appears amenable to working with him. She never set out intending to kill the Verchiel nobles, only rattle them a little, but after Harmond murders an unwitting informant in front of her? She's furious. She wants him dead. And if the Inquisitor is willing to work with him, that makes the Inquisitor someone who can't be trusted.

So let's talk about Sera's relationship to elven identity. There's no question that it's a complicated one; one of the first things she says to an elf Inquisitor (which at the time of writing I'm currently playing) is an offhanded "Hope you're not too elfy." You don't get an approval hit for saying she's "different for an elf," but she will respond to the effect that she doesn't appreciate assumptions being made about her based on her being an elf, which doesn't seem unreasonable, honestly. I've seen Sera's attitude framed as self-hatred but I do feel like it's a bit more complicated than that; has she struggled with self-hatred in her life, yes, absolutely--the cookie story makes that very clear. But I think that to simply say Sera hates herself for being an elf is an oversimplification in the same way as saying Vivienne hates herself for being a mage. Sera definitely has some insecurities, and I think Vivienne needles her accurately when she remarks that Sera actually cares a great deal what people think of her. At this point in her life, however, I don't feel like she hates being an elf so much as she hates when all people (elves and otherwise) see in her is their own presumptions about what elves are or should be, and not who she is.

Elven identity is a complicated thing in this universe, and tensions between city elves and Dalish elves is certainly nothing new. Dalish elves largely view themselves as the sole keepers of elven culture, calling city elves "flat ears" and in some cases barely regarding them as elves, and yet I would argue that alienage culture is also elven culture. Though they are not referenced as a group in-game, we also see plenty of examples of what we might call "country elves"—elves who live on farms and in villages in more rural areas, some of whom still maintain a bit of the ancient language and a belief in the ancient gods. (The elf family you meet in Lothering comes to mind, as well as various NPCs around the Hinterlands.) Even among elven servants, which could be regarded as a sort of sub-class in itself, there seems to be a kind of subtle understanding and solidarity, based on Briala's point of view in The Masked Empire. All of these are elven culture.

Sera is on the extreme end of not identifying with elven culture generally, but I want to draw a distinction between Dalish culture (which might be called a kind of Elvhen reconstructionism) and elven culture generally. Sera is not fond of the Dalish, but I'm also not sure how much contact with Dalish elves she's actually had, considering that she's lived most of her life in major cities. So I have to wonder if her particular irritation with the Dalish comes from interactions with actual Dalish elves, or from their general reputation. I'm not saying the Dalish wouldn't be rude to Sera; many of them definitely would. I'm just not sure if her feelings about them come from direct experience with the Dalish or from other elves generally.

Because Sera does feel alienated by elven culture generally, and if you listen to to her ambient dialogue and banter throughout the game, if you take her on quests and listen to the things she says, it becomes really obvious that being told she's the wrong kind of elf is a particularly sharp pain point for Sera and has left her with a lot of anger and resentment. I don't know from whom exactly this has come, because she never goes into details, but it's obviously something she's heard a lot.

I had Sera with me for most of Jaws of Hakkon on this playthrough, and she has some really interesting dialogue for Finn, a young Avvar man who is in danger of being disowned because due to a disabling injury, he is unable to complete the ritual hunt for his late father's funeral rites. "Wait, so he does this or he's the wrong kind of elf?" Sera snaps, like that's something she's been told repeatedly. She clearly feels a powerful compassion and solidarity for Finn, insisting the Inquisitor give the gifts of the hunt to Finn himself so that he can keep his father's name: "We help him. Not asking. Do it." Upon doing so, Sera remarks to Finn, "Say what they want, and you can belong. But maybe when you figure that threatening you was shit, come look for a Jenny." She wants him to have the option to stay with his community, but also for him to know he has somewhere to go should he choose to leave. I really love that. To me, this is Sera at her best, reaching out in solidarity and compassion to help someone outcast, offering them a place to belong.

Sera certainly has her less-sympathetic moments too. Her absolute glee over the revelations from the Temple of Mythal is honestly not cute. I have sympathy for where Sera's coming from on elfy things, but she's really spiteful about it in this case: "The Dalish. Are going. To shit themselves!" She'll get angry at a human Inquisitor (as she did at mine, who was in a romance with her) just for trying to be respectful of what they saw in the temple and not outright denouncing all of elven tradition as rubbish. "You're not even an elf! Why are you being so damned elfy?" There are several ways to resolve this fight, and it certainly wasn't a relationship ender with a human Inquisitor. (I can't speak to elf Inquisitors since I haven't romanced her with one yet.) I certainly don't think it's out of character for Sera, but it definitely exposes some of her pettiness and insecurity. If she were fully secure in who she is, elfy or not, she wouldn't need "elfy elves" discredited to validate her.

But Sera's a flawed character, and that's not a bad thing. I think she does show some growth in subtle ways, too—if an elf Inquisitor befriends her, her journal will include the line: "Book. Read elfy stuff for her (scratched out)." She's trying! In Trespasser her journal entries express concern about whether the Inquisitor is "all right with the elfy stuff" and wanting to be there for them and help if they aren't. A big step forward from the Temple of Mythal!

I also enjoy the way Sera actually comes around to certain people you wouldn't expect her to like, or at least respects them. Of Josephine, Sera remarks that "She's as good at humbling her kind as I am, just with less mess. Knows her business, if you have to have it." And there's this beautiful banter with Dorian:

Sera: So you’re fat with it, right? Dorian: Me? Are you referring to…? Sera: Do you sleep on silk while gold shits down all over you? Are you rich? Dorian: I left all that behind. Although I do miss the gold-shitting from time to time. Sera: You really left it, huh? Knew you weren’t all bad.

I talked quite a bit about Vivienne above, so let's talk about how other characters interact with Sera.

After a successful march through Verchiel, Cullen notes at the war table, "Potential future gains may be impressive. Do not tell Sera I said so."

Why not?

This quest is Sera's first chance to prove her value and the value of her organization to the Inquisition—and she's proven it. (Yes, things go a bit sideways later, but that hasn't actually happened yet, and she continues to bring information and quests to the Inquisition after that setback if allowed to stay.) So, that Cullen doesn't want to acknowledge her value after she's demonstrated it? Well, that sucks a little! We sure wouldn't want to let one of our allies know she's valuable to us. All because he doesn't like her personally—and because she's not important enough to be worth showing respect. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, honestly, and illuminates a certain feeling I have about the Inquisition generally.

Let's review the backgrounds of the rest of the Inquisition's inner circle, shall we?

Cullen Rutherford, Knight-Captain turned Commander, respected enough to gain the trust of Leliana and Cassandra which is not nothing. Leliana, experienced bard, used to mingling with nobles, friend of the Hero of Ferelden, Left Hand of the Divine. Josephine Montilyet, noble-born, Ambassador. Cassandra Pentaghast, Nevarran royalty, Seeker of Truth promoted to Right Hand of the Divine at a remarkably young age. Dorian Pavus, Tevinter nobility, albeit estranged from his family, still influential enough to be apprenticed to a magister. Varric Tethras, born to a powerful dwarven Merchant Guild family, popular author, friend of the Champion of Kirkwall. Vivienne, Enchanter to the Imperial Court, mistress to the Duke of Ghislain (which in the Orlesian court is considered a respectable enough position to be declared openly). The Iron Bull, Qunari Ben-Hassrath, commander of the Bull's Chargers. Solas, the Dread Wolf of elven legend and though currently known only as an elven apostate, quite vocal about his authority on elven history and his dismay over Sera's everything.

Compare all of those Very Important People to: Blackwall, (not) Grey Warden, traitor, murderer, and liar. Cole, spirit, lost soul. Sera, commoner, elf, Red Jenny.

At the end of the day, you can spin it any number of ways and it's generally in-character for most of them so this isn't a writing complaint, but people look down on Sera. Most of your advisors and companions are either noble-born, used to mingling with nobility, or otherwise Someone Important. Even Blackwall, the closest to Sera in terms of class (and you can tell by how well they get along in party banter), spends most of the game pretending to be Somebody that he isn't. Cole's whole personal conflict is a crisis of identity and fear of his own nature. Sera is low class, crass, broad, common—and an elf to boot. And she doesn't try to hide any of that. She is who she is.

And her commonness is her value. She sees things in a way that people like Cullen and Josephine and Cassandra cannot. She has a perspective most of the Inner Circle doesn't. She is valuable because she is nobody. The founders of the Inquisition make plenty of noise about "restoring order" and you get a lot of dialogue about how the Inquisitor gives hope to "the people" and how important they are to "the people." Well, Sera is the goddamn people. Not to say that she represents all commoners, but if the Inquisition has contempt for the manner and perspective of someone like Sera, they are going to have that same kind of contempt for many of the very people they claim to be protecting, when they actually meet them face to face.

Sera's crassness and prankster tendencies come across as disrespectful, but it's worth asking why exactly everyone else is deserving of her unconditional, unearned respect when they show none to her. Just because they're Very Important People of higher social standing? Is that not an assumption worth interrogating? I think it is, and I think Sera's very presence in the Inquisition invites us to examine assumptions about class and status and respect that might otherwise go unexamined in a story like this. And if you've read my Masked Empire essay, you know that I am 100% here for storytelling in this universe that dismantles the fantasy trope of the benevolent nobility.

It's no mystery why the companion Sera gets along with best is Blackwall, and they have some great friendly banter. I think she might even get along fine with Cole if she didn't know he was a spirit, and if he didn't constantly say out loud really on-the-nose things about people's hidden pain, because that's the stuff about him that freaks her out. If he was just a weird dude who wanted to help people and went about it in some strange ways, I think she'd be cool with him.

I gained a lot of sympathy for Sera over the course of the game and romancing her, but frankly nothing gained me more sympathy for her than seeing how shitty other characters are to her. Sera's used to being treated like dirt, but she's also not going to curtsy and thank you for the pleasure. Fart noises, indeed.

But that's not actually a complaint about the game. Like I said, I think the unexamined disdain for someone like Sera is pretty in-character for most of our Very Important Companions. And I like all of those characters a whole lot, so I'm definitely not trying to slam any characters to uplift Sera. It's good for characters to have flaws. Sera has them. Every companion has them. That's good writing.

Where I do have some complaints is in the ways in which the Inquisitor is able to talk to Sera—or rather, the ways they're not.

For many of the dialogue options with Sera, even the most positive response kind of implies that you're just tolerating her or humoring her. Even when you're trying to role-play as aggressively positive toward Sera as possible, the Inquisitor as written and voiced comes off as confused by her and by Red Jenny. Of course that will make sense for some characters, but the total dearth of a "Sounds rad, count me in" option when Sera tells you about her organization is a source of continual frustration to me. Why, exactly, don't I have the option to say I think Red Jenny is awesome? Why is that not a thing my character can think? Of course I should have the option to say otherwise, but why I assume I won't get it and will need it explained to me over and over?

The concept of the Friends of Red Jenny is not that hard to understand. People with little power banding together to exercise a bit more collectively should not be stupid or baffling. It especially should not be baffling to a mage or a surface dwarf or a Vashoth qunari. It also shouldn't be that confusing that they're working together to achieve small goals and desires without looking to start a large-scale revolution that would likely just get a lot of them killed. It's not complicated, but the game seems to expect you to view it with, at best, confusion, and at worst, contempt. It starts to feel like you're expected to either dislike her or at the very least not "get" her, and that rubs me the wrong way not just because I do like her, but because it feels railroady. I should have the option to vibe with Sera right from the start if I want to.

(For the record, I'm pretty sure the reason this happened is because the Inquisitor was originally conceived and written as a human from a noble family. Basically everything that's annoying about the Inquisitor's dialogue with Sera makes so much more sense if you look at it from that perspective, and it's also not the fault of her writer. Mark Darrah has talked about this more recently, and the Bioware team never actually wanted to have a human-only Inquisitor but had to start out that way because EA wanted the game to ship in 2013; it was a whole thing.)

Where you do get the option, it's fun to vibe with Sera. It's real fun. She has some excellent friendship content that is not unique to the romance. There's the pranks sequence, wherein Sera wants to play a few tricks on the Inquisition's advisors. I can see how this could be off-putting to some people (I don't like practical jokes in real life) but I can appreciate Sera's stated reasons for doing it: to humanize these Very Important People to their underlings and as such, to improve morale. In that way, it reminds me of the Iron Bull taking the Inquisitor to mingle with the rank and file disguised as one of them, to hear their perspectives and give names and faces to the people depending on their leader. It's also really nice for breaking up the Everything Is Super Serious tone of the Inquisition as an organization and injecting some fun into it. Again, Sera just brings an energy and perspective to the Inquisition that no one else does. Then there's the roof talk about the cookies, after which you have the option to go spend some "friendly roof time" with Sera whenever you like. For a reluctant Inquisitor, I think Sera can offer a much-needed escape from the gravity of their work, and I certainly found her becoming that for my Inquisitor Eleanor.

I find Sera's little window alcove in the tavern so charming. I also love the idea that she just claimed this space and told everyone to piss off. Maryden might have had a thing for Sera, if the song is any indication, so maybe she went to bat for her. Either way, Sera has her own little space and collection of curiosities.

The codex entry you can read nearby features a note from Quartermaster Morris questioning whether it's a good use of Inquisition resources to give her a cabinet. A cabinet. She doesn't even have a private room with a bed, but how dare she ask for one wooden bookcase for her stuff. Again, it's everyone treating Sera like a waste of space, like she doesn't deserve even one nice thing, while Skyhold's "visiting dignitaries" have their every whim catered to.

And let's talk about stuff. Let's talk about Sera's collection of things, a collection for a girl who's been reminded her whole life of all the things she doesn't deserve. A collection of the few things a girl considers important or interesting after she rejected the inheritance left her by her abusive foster mother. Parts of Sera's catalog are very funny! I will always laugh at "Goblet. Fancy cup. Cup. Shit goblet." But I also find something very touching about Sera's little collection of things, and what she writes about them, especially with a romance active, as she gradually adds things that remind her of the Inquisitor she loves. I could write pages just talking about how much I love Sera's journaling but some bits I especially love:

Silk. Bolts, not arrow-bolts. Soft! Make something!

Use silk for her! Underpants (scratched out). Tit thing (scratched out). Scarf (scratched out).

Silk is stupid. Get book to sew better. (scratched out).

Silk comes out of a worm's arse! Yuck!

That book she reads. Why's it good? Soooo long (scratched out).

Stupid book. Didn't cry.

Book. Learn Human stuff for her (scratched out). Every book is human stuff.

Sera's gift quest, "A Woman Who Wants for Nothing," is delightful and made me so glad I chose this romance. In it, Sera mentions that she got the Inquisitor a hat. Well, actually, what she says is, "Listen! I got you a hat, but it's ugly, so I drew Coryhe-whatzit's face on it, and stuffed it with apples. Everyone's hitting it with sticks! I really hope you like it!" and then runs away giggling. The Inquisitor, charmingly, takes this SUPER SERIOUSLY and decides she needs to get Sera a gift in return. She then asks everyone in the Inner Circle for gift ideas, with the responses ranging from supportive befuddlement to outright annoyance, with Solas and Vivienne both giving approval drops and Vivienne sarcastically replying, "Just shave something rude into your privates, dear. She won't get the redundancy." (If you entertain this suggestion, you get a hilarious bonus cutscene later.)

But when the Inquisitor returns to Sera to confess that she asked everyone for advice but couldn't figure out a proper gift, Sera replies, "Wait wait wait. You went to everyone and said I was your lover? Right to their faces?" She doubles over laughing before adding, "Best gift ever."

It's a funny scene, and a funny quest, but at the core of it is the fact that the best gift Sera could receive is someone who accepts her, who isn't ashamed of her—someone who's proud to claim her and love her for who she is.

Usually, the expression that a person "wants for nothing" means that they already have everything they could possibly want, but for Sera it takes on a different meaning. Sera, probably the least wealthy member of the Inner Circle, with her rejected inheritance and her little collection of things—Sera for whom the greatest gift is not another thing for her shelf, but simply acceptance.

In Trespasser, Sera has a new journal codex, "Sera's Past and Now Things" and it's even more of a delight, with such notes as "Back to the Winter Palace? Never good. Pack bees." It also features Sera's worries about the Inquisitor's mark, which is slowly killing them, with increasing distress for a romanced Sera and such heartrending bits as:

It isn't... (scratched out).

I will... (scratched out).

We have to... (scratched out).

(The book is scuffed, as though thrown against a wall. This page also has what look to be tear stains.)

I have arrows. They leave and things die.

I get to keep something.

Why don't I get to... (scratched out).

Make her happy. I will keep that she was happy.

I also found it really touching that her love being there makes the Fade okay for Sera, and helps her face something she's afraid of.

If you can look beneath the surface with Sera, I think her friendship and especially her romance is really moving, and taking the time in-game to get to know her is extremely rewarding in the end.

The Inquisitor and Sera can get married at the Winter Palace during Trespasser. Inky can wear her terrible dress uniform and Sera wears an ugly dress and shouts "That's our bells, nobbers! We frigging win!" from the balcony. It's perfect.

I love Sera, I'm so glad I really got to know her, I'm so glad I decided to play her romance. This one's a keeper.

#sera #sera dragon age #dragon age sera #dragon age inquisition #blunders of thedas

90 notes · View notes

emmy-dekarios-bg3 · 29 days

Text

WIP Thursday (I was supposed to do this yesterday buuuut forgot lol)

Thank you @busy-baker for the tag!!!

An excerpt of Chapter 15 from Heart of the Weave

We head down to the fun market area for the festival and notice various shops and vendors on every corner throughout the square. So many children are running around playing, eating, and having fun. I almost can’t wait until Jenevelle is walking and can enjoy fun events like this, playing with other children. For now, I have her wrapped in the baby carrier attached to my body, curled up and comfortable as we stroll the calming streets of Waterdeep.

“What a perfect day for such a festival. I clearly don’t get out enough, I feel like I haven’t seen any signs anywhere,” I say, observing the exciting area around us. I do notice a few clowns around us, which immediately brings flashbacks of Dribbles the Clown back at Baldur’s Gate, except we killed him and he was actually a shapeshifter. Long story short, he and several other shapeshifters were sent by Orin to murder me. Now that I look back on it, I feel honored to be such a threat to her.

“Oh, I have a slight inkling this was all planned last minute,” Gale says, chuckling. “Nonetheless, it’s fun to get out and enjoy this time together.”

We grab food and sit down at the music event, where three high elf bards are performing some new music I haven’t heard of before, but they’re pretty good! As we’re watching the concert, I hear my name nearby by a familiar voice – Shadowheart, perhaps? I turn around and notice her approaching us, and she sits down next to me. She has a bag full of items she bought from the various shops and vendors.

“Shadowheart?”

“I know I live like, two blocks down from you, but I saw you two walking and wanted to…give the baby a gift. But then I lost you when I spotted you both at the festival. I didn’t want to interrupt any future plans you might have later, so I figured I’d come by now.” She hands me an adorable pink owlbear plush from her bag, which is almost as big as Jenevelle herself. “The pink owlbear was the last one left. Since I don’t have children yet, I figured I’d spoil your little one while I still can.” I smile, taking the owlbear plush from her.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #ao3 #archive of our own #wizard of waterdeep

6 notes · View notes

kismetharbor · 1 month

Text

Kismet Harbor's 168th Founder's Festival

In the year 1856, against the backdrop of the Oregon Trail’s final stretches and the promise of prosperity in the West, Alexander Chapman, a pioneering soul with dreams as vast as the Pacific itself, laid the foundation stones of what would become Kismet Harbor. Drawn to the rugged beauty of the Oregon coast and inspired by the potential of its untamed lands, Chapman envisioned a haven where dreams could take root and ambitions could flourish. To honor our beloved founder, it is yet again time for our annual Founder's Festival. Come on by with your family, friends and beloved ones and have fun at our 168th Founder's Festival, officially ringing in the new season.

For your entertainment, our board and city council have come up with the following things to do at this year's festival:

Novice bakers are encouraged to put their own baking creations on display for our lovely judges to taste and proclaim a winner.

Vivian Lockwood and Peter Salzburg, our lord and lady Kismet Harbor from last year's festival will be passing on their crowns to this years new lord and lady. At the opening of our festival, the coronation will take place. We invite everyone to toast to them with a cup of sparkling apple cider.

Join us for mini games such as apple bobbing, a hay obstacle course, egg and spoon race, and archery.

Test your battle of wits in a Shakespearean showoff. Battle your opponents with old English insults and become the master of wits.

The famous 'chase the chicken' game has returned. Chase the chicken down the main road of Kismet Harbor and win fresh produce from our local farms (Disclaimer, no actual chickens are being harmed in this game. Volunteers that fit in our chicken outfits are welcomed!)

Stroll about our shopping streets for stands filled with food, trinkets and fashion items. Enjoy the newest fall fashion and food items such as pumpkin spice and apple cider.

As always there will be a speech by Mayor Clairmont to regale the story of Alexander Chapman.

Children up to the age of sixteen can enjoy their fairy hunt in a closed off section of the hiking trails. When having found a small wooden elf, return this to the entrance of the hiking trails for a free ticket to the use at either Aquatica, Danger Zone or Galaxy Cinemas. Minors under the age of eight need to be escorted by an adult.

Our hayrides will lead you through town from Hawthorne Hideaway to our downtown area.

Once more, we have a charity walk/run of five, ten and twenty miles. For every five miles finished, HCP Holding will donate a hundred dollars to Best Care Animal Hospital.

Below the cut is the OOC information needed for the event:

The event will start September 20th, at 12:00pm (noon, EST), starters can be posted on the dashboard.

The event will run through October 4th at 12:00am (midnight, EST), however no new starters should be posted after September 30th for the sake of being able to wrap up threads in a timely manner. Try to have it wrapped up by the 11th to keep the dash clean. Event starters should be tagged with kismetharbor.event002.

Every year, the Founder's festival will be declaring a new 'Lord' and 'Lady' of Kismet Harbor that will partake in the organization for events and help hosting it for the next whole year. Every mun is allowed to participate for the reaping with a maximum of two characters (whichever gender; Non Binary characters will have to specify if they would like to be reaped for Lord or Lady.). Two will be reaped by the wheel and will not be chosen by popular vote. Please send in the characters you wish to participate with. You can do this until September 19th at 11:59 PM. The winners will be reaped at the start of the event. Please submit through IM.

The mini games shall be held in Hawthorne Hideaway, reachable either by foot or by the use of a hayride wagon. The stands, foodcourts, the mayor's speech at the Chapman statue and the crowning of the new Lord and Lady will be held Downtown.

For the baking competition it is not required to sent in pictures. Just the name and description of what will be entered and the character name is enough. Again, the winners shall be chosen by the wheel and not by popular vote. Please send this through IM.

Feel free to have your characters volunteers to host the activities or rides.

Participation in the event is required and you will have to have at least one event thread per character.

#kismetharbor.event

3 notes · View notes

sorcerous-caress · 1 year

Note

I’m so sorry but also thank you for giving me permission to ramble. Jubilee is pretty much by and large a normal ass woman Pre getting abducted by mindflayers she was working in the family business a bakery and taking care of two little sisters by day and frantically researching to figure out more about her sorcery/preforming at taverns to help make ends meet by night.

She grew up poor but with two doting mothers she’s actually half-tiefling half-elf. The tiefling mama runs a bakery, elf mom works with messenger pigeons. They had Jubilee and her younger sister Opal via a magic item. Jubilee got her other sister via crime some dragonborn we’re selling eggs as slaves and 10 years old Jubilee, rescued one she was trying to rescue all of them but failed because she was to small to carry them. So now she has lost a red Dragonborn sister. They are very poor like most people from the lower city of Baldur’s gate but she was more than happy with her family. Her family by and large lived on the pastries that had gone stale however often takes stale pastries and distributes them to street urchins and others who look sad or like they could use them. She’d often forgo her own share of food in favor of her sisters or giving it folks that need it more a bad habit that follows her to camp. She just can’t eat until she knows all her beloved friends have had their share.

She also acts way more like a bard than a sorcerer, when she was little she was teased not only for being a tiefling but being weird even for a tiefling because of her Draconic scales. She used a floppy hat to hide her horns and fluffy skirts to hide her tail as a little kid when her sister started picking up these habits of hiding who they are she forced herself to own it, and while she still struggles with self esteem she’s much better for it. So her attempt of owning it/coming of confident along with her side hustle of playing songs that seem far to sad for such a cheerful and doting gal make her seem very bard like.

The confidence is false but it’s a very impressive facade, she’s in deeply over her head however she can’t look like that because she needs to be useful to her companions. She loves all the companions so dearly but is wholly convinced that she is worthless to them if she can’t help them/be of services. So she is constantly of service cooking, making time for them, derailing their world saving missions to help with their personal issues. She completely shoves her own quest about finding the origins of her sorcery aside for their sake. She’s very doting and overly compassionate but unfortunately can be pushy when it comes to her people pleasing often dragging other members of the party into quest to help people.

The companions genuinely love her however she really can’t fathom why anyone would like her they are all cool and special and she’s just a boring little baker. The companions (barring jaheria) also don’t really notice this because she’s used to being strong for her moms and sisters so she’s gotten real good at burying her feelings. Their are little cracks though how she waits to eat, how she tells Shadowheart to save her healing for someone that really needs it, the pain and longing in her eyes as she speaks about her family and the way she more often then not takes over guard shifts because she was having nightmares. Surface pressure from enchanto meets canary in a coal mine by the crane wives is a lovely description of her emotional state.

I will be back with more but it is nearly 1am and I have class tomorrow so love you bye.

She sounds really well through out and admirable!

I really like the idea of her having a family waiting for her in Baldur's gate, or even the idea of one of her sister accidentally being kidnapped with her.

Maybe that's how they got her, they were attempting to get one of her sisters instead, maybe the dragonborn, but she pushed her out of the way and saved her yet doomed her own self in the process.

Imagine the sweet reunion when she finally makes it back home to her mothers and sisters. Now a much stronger and capable sorcerer then before.

You can even homebrew her sorcery to include some musical themes in them if you want. It's very flexible, and she can take a dip or two in bardic schools to get some of the supportive spells to really sell the whole dotting figure. Where she'd spend her remaining healing spell slots on her companions instead of herself.

While I could see karlach, Gale and Shadowheart going with the flow and relaying on her facade of the nurturing big sister, i think other companions wouldn't buy it.

Wyll for instance, Minthara too.

Jaheira would probably relate to her a bit. She has a similar concept, except she uses a harsh and cold front to veil her true self with.

Minthara can sniff out the deepest insecurity someone has the second she meets them. After you recruit her, she immediately lists all that's wrong with your companions. She has to be good at knowing other's true weaknesses. to survive and thrive in drow culture

#♡anonstavs

5 notes · View notes

adleryoung · 2 years

Text

Some audience members take advantage of a break in the story to talk to our Guest Narrator.

"We would like to say," you say, "how grateful we are that you came all the way out here to fill in for and protect our wise and generous narrator."

No thanks needed. I like, consider it my duty to repay all of the super rad and poppin' fresh entertainment Adler has given us over the years.

"It can't be understated what an honor this is."

Oh totally.

"We'd like to bestow a token of our appreciation."

That's not necessary.

"Several tokens. Would you like to have a seat in this un-suspicious chair?"

Oh, okay, looks majorly comfy.

"Care to have a sip or two of this warm drink that hasn't been tampered with?"

Sweet! My throat was getting wicked dry from all that reading.

"You'd look so dapper with this tie on. Don't worry about taking it, I have more."

Aw, no way, man. Ties are like, most definitely not my style.

But thanks for everything else! You guys are so swell, I might go so far as to say you were dope, and additionally fly! Now I can continue the story in max comfort. Let me just set this drink down and get the book … here we are … so next Adler says …

I slowly lowered my arms as my dramatic mood deflated and my butterflies flew away. I scowled at the old crone. The entire coven was watching me expectantly. Rebecca grinned and nodded, and made a thumbs-up gesture. Might as well finish this, I thought. With a weary sigh, I peered into the old opossum's mind.

"And you," I muttered blankly. "You are guilty of-"

"No-no!" she cackled. "Do the voice."

"Yes," the coven chimed in. "The voice was cool."

"Pleeeeeaaaaase!" Rebecca added from the back.

"Okay, fine," I grumbled. I took a deep breath and bellowed "AND YOU!!" Some of the witches politely applauded. "You spend every waking moment stewing in jealousy and thoughts of revenge! You would learn witchcraft to infuse dark magicks into food so you can cheat at baking contests!"

"Not just that!" the old crone cackled madly. "I'd also whip up a hex so that hussy would never be able to bake a decent pie ever again! Every time she tries to make a sweet pie it'll turn out sour, and if she tries to make a sour pie it'll turn out sweet! Eee hee hee hee hee! Ever since SHE moved in, I've been stuck in second place! Every contest, every festival, every holiday, and every spontaneous bake-off in the vibrant pastry culture my town is famous for! I was the Legendary Baker, and then she just waltzed in and stole my title! It drove me well nigh mad! Mad, I say! So I built a shack in the wilderness and spent years living life as a hermit, concocting horrid recipes and plotting witchcraft based revenge!"

"Now now, Mother Didelphis," Rebecca said, touching the old opossum's shoulder soothingly. "Calm down."

"Yes, remember your heart," the bear (mouse?) added.

"Your lumbago," the vixen pointed out.

"Your potted eels," the duck murmured dreamily.

As the coven fussed over the old opossum, I stared at them in bewilderment. I had given them a grade-A performance! Any lowfolk who saw that should have been groveling by now. Instead they were all acting like they had just seen a street juggler.

"Why were you people not brought to your knees in fear and awe?" I asked.

"I can explain!" Rebecca chirped happily. "Some of them were worried about coming out here after I was elf-shot, but I told them that you wouldn't let anything bad happen to them. I made sure they knew that Lord Randall is the nicest, sweetest, most generous, and most Seelie elf ever! He is a charming and sensitive soul, and a big romantic. When he talks to Miss Vernier, it's the cutest thing ever! Tee hee! Then I explained how you turned me away from a destructive path, meticulously teaching me what it means to be Seelie and live in the loving aura of Lady Fuma, who's not a demon at all. The coven has nothing to fear from Lord Randall, as he will accept them all with open, loving arms! I also told them that you were putting a show together, so it would be rude not to go. And that show did not disappoint!"

I just stared goggle-eyed at Rebecca as she said all this, and continued staring for a few seconds after she finished.

"Why did you tell them that?" I finally managed to wheeze out.

"Because it's Seelie to tell the truth!"

"HAW HAW HAW," Burnside guffawed. "Ya big Seelie weenie! That's whatcha get fer fillin' the poor gal's head with all that goody-goody junk, an' not givin' her a script!"

#furry #elves #witches #story #adventure #plot #tboay

5 notes · View notes

vbsvartalf · 2 years

Text

A Crown of Violets, Roses, and Crocuses, Part I

The hour was late, or at least she assumed it was late. There were no windows where she’d bunkered down to read. It was a big room, musty and cavernous, lit with a single, long candle at the far end of her table. That she’d lost track of time in here was more an inevitability than a surprise. Any library, every library, all over the world, under it, and above it she would get lost in. Dusty shelves and rows upon rows of books and scrolls were more natural to her than sunlight and fields. She’d had adventures, or at least what she would call adventures, but they all led her back to one library or another. One could only learn so much on an adventure, they must, must be supplemented by research and study. At the very least, her adventures needed to be catalogued so that she could be a part of the research for future generations of scholars and knowledge seekers. That’s what had led her here, to Mikelburg.

It was not a hidden city, but it was a forgotten one. Supposedly its foundations were laid nine hundred years ago before and, judging by the age and decay and general rundownedness of the city, that estimate was far too generous. The world was an onion, layers and layers and layers of things to find and explore and discover. Mikelburg was forgotten because people mistakenly believed it had little to offer the big, wide world. She knew that wasn’t true. No place in the world had “little to offer”, that sort of phrase was a slur, a curse, an obscenity in anthropological circles. She’d come to the city with little knowledge of its size, or it’s make up. She was shocked at both.

The city was large, founded on gentle slowly sloping hill near the confluence of two streams with a wide green forest stretching on upwards behind them into the fog riddled mountains. There were old rings of stones scattered throughout the city noting the different levels of habitation as the city grew from a tiny, nameless hillfort to a town, to a city, to a capital. Half the city seemed to be ruins though, half dead, half alive. Wars had come to Mikelburg. Wars and more wars, then famines and waves of pestilence. The people of Mikelburg moved their capital to some safer location, on a higher hill with bigger river and more space to spread out. Still there were people that would not abandon the city and all its years. It was not an easy existence by all accounts, but the old folks have passed down a hardiness to their children that was evident, even hundreds of years later.

There was no central authority here either, no mayor or lord or council of whom she could ask questions. It was an imposition to be sure. But Patsimiel Yoshiyo was not one to be turned aside so quickly. Her time studying anthropology had given her one thing, and her elven senses had only sharpened and honed it: patience. There was no council she could talk to? She would ask the people on the streets. No lord who she could interview about the laws and customs of the land? She would ask the bakers and the sugarmongers, the fishnetters and the blacksmiths. She’d picked up enough of the language lately that communicating was no problem. Well, not too much. She’d talked with a cooper and kept confusing an offer from him to come inside and meet his wife for tea, for an offer that was not about tea. Thank the stars, most of the people spoke a dialect of Ten Towns she could speak and understand. The cooper and his wife pointed the young elf to the library.

It wasn’t much a of a library, a single-story building with one entrance and exit. The people of Mikelburg were an oral people with long waxing tales told by scops and troubadours in the light of fireplaces, but they interacted with enough outlanders and tradesmen from the northern that a library was more or less expected, even if it wasn’t well maintained or catalogued. There was a librarian, a wizened old man with a very short gait and a very sturdy cane. He was a delightful little man and was so enamored with her that she assumed she was the first elf he’d ever seen. His smile was as bright as the waxing gibbous moon. He led her to a private chamber where she could read and study and write in peace.

She yawned. She wasn’t tired, but she felt like she should be, surely it had been hours or even days since she’d entered here. The yawn was more an attempt to trick her body into telling her its secrets. Her mind had begun to wander. The candlelight was growing fuzzy, stretching and blurring at the edges; the light was getting dimmer and dimmer, shrinking and pulsing. The words on the page drooped and dipped on the page, they played and teased her. She would read a sentence, then read it again and find words that had been coy and hid from her gaze.

Her stomach gurgled. She might not be physically tired, but she was hungry. When was the last time she’d eaten? Had she stopped at an inn before she made a beeline to the library? She couldn’t remember if she’d had the tea with the cooper and his wife. Some tea would be very pleasant right now, tea and a few extra candles. Tea was the whetstone on which she sharpened her mind. Ever since she’d learned to brew it herself as a child, Yoshiyo had used it to stay up to all hours. She would hide under blankets with a lantern and read anything and everything she could. Once, she’d nicked a cookbook from her neighbor and read the entire thing in a single night. If only she could use that knowledge to make more than tea. She was certain that a tea and biscuit combo would make her at least a fraction more popular, at the very least not the one mocked and teased endlessly. She nicked books, borrowed scrolls, anything with words and knowledge. Now, as an adult, she could not remember half of the things that she read on those clandestine nights, but the feeling stayed with her and that was more important in the end.

She yawned again, this time it was genuine, stretching her jaw and her lungs to their absolute limits, one of the bones in her neck popped with weak pop. It must be late. She read one more line from the scroll, blinked hard, then read it again. Neither time she read it did it make sense. The words could have scribbles for all she understood them. She squinted and leaned in close to try a third time. Still no luck, the words dripped and slipped out of her line of sight like a waterfall. She sat back and sighed. She was done for the day. She’d learned her lesson. Reflexively, she looked at the candle, making sure it was not too close. She would not forgive herself another library fire. She sighed again, rubbing her face. Comparing languages and tracing certain stories back to their origins was fun work, but it was mind numbing too.

She’d read eight different renditions of “How the Fox Stole the Farmer’s Wife”. All of them only slightly different, but just enough to warrant different entries into her records. Some of them were translations of languages she didn’t know; others were original compositions with words borrowed from even older languages. There was something wrong about the order in which the library said they were written and recorded though, finding the ur-tale became the primary objective as Yoshiyo yawned a third time. But all of that was going to have to wait until tomorrow, or at least until she’d had some tea and a bowl of soup. Her dry lips and stomach mumbled in agreement. Soup would be very nice. There was an inn nearby, she remembered smelling cooking meat as she passed to the library. What was it called? The Whispering Cauldron?

She packed up her things, scrolls and scrolls and more scrolls with pens and wax tablets and sketch pads. Her pack was an unorganized bramble of chaos. She wouldn’t have in any other way. Her apartments were always orderly and organized, but her pack, like her mind, was wild and carefree. She wrapped her flaming red hair back into a loose ponytail with a leather strap from the bramble it had become over hours of absent minded pulling and tugging and. She shouldered her pack and sighed with that familiar weight. The little librarian was nowhere to be seen, but somewhere in the library she could hear the clack-clack of his cane.

The sun was still out, but it was dipping behind the mountains, exploding in pink and orange. She inhaled the smell of Mikelburg and closed her eyes. There were a few people walking the street, wrapped in cloaks to ward off the coming cold of fall nights. She could hear bits and pieces of conversation. It was a welcome change from the cavernous silence of the library.

She took a step and felt herself bump into someone rushing by.

She opened her eyes, catching just the barest glimpse.

The woman turned to look back. Her eyes were soft and round with irises of violet so dark they could have been a reflection of the primordial, starless sky. Her skin was silvery porcelain, her feathery, raven tresses was styled in an ancient elven style, one she’d not seen in…

Suddenly she was not in Mikelburg anymore. She was in another city, one far older with towers of ivory that stretched up into the sky and disappeared. There were singing voices all around her instead of the murmur of a crowd. There was so much light here: golden and silver. The very air was made of music, it touched her skin and sent waves of warm sensations through her body. She reached out to touch it. Her fingers moved slowly, through honey. She could see the light wisp around her fingers, tangible like a butterfly. And she was there. That same woman, raven black hair and violet eyes. She was looking at her again, but on her lips was a gossamer smile, so sweet and silky it made Yoshiyo’s knees weak. The woman, so familiar that her name was on the tip of Yoshiyo’s tongue, said something and touched her cheek. It felt like she’d been kissed by a cloud. It was dizzying. The air smelled of roses. She said something, but her words were wisped away a sweet wind…

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention…” the woman said. She smiled. There was a twinkle in her eyes, a reflection of ancient light. Did she know Yoshiyo? Did Yoshiyo know her?

Before Yoshiyo had a chance to say anything, the woman rounded the corner and disappeared. She touched her face where she’d been touched in the vision. She felt dizzy again and her throat went dry.

Who was she?

Yoshiyo continued to the inn, looking back every few steps, trying to will the woman back within her field of vision. She stopped a few paces from the inn’s doors. Should she go back? Should she go find the woman? Chase her down and… and what? Her hands were shaking. A warmth that had nothing to do with heat filled her limbs.

She stood there for several heartbeats, unable to make a decision. Each moment she hesitated meant the mystery woman was further and further away. Finally, she gave up trying and went into the inn. The man behind the bar had hair redder than her and soft green eyes.

“Do you have any, any vacancies?” She asked mechanically, her mind racing in every direction but forward.

“Aye,” the man said, setting the clay mug he’d been cleaning down on the lacquered wooden bar top. “How many?”

“I, well I only need the one, I suppose.”

“No, how many will be staying?” he asked again.

Yoshiyo felt her cheeks go red. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m— it’s just me. I’ll be the only one. Just me.”

He looked at her, his brow creasing and folding into half a dozen lines. “Are you okay, lass?”

“What?” Yoshiyo shook herself, forcing her mind to pay attention to the one thing in front of her. It pulled at the reigns like a feral horse. “Oh, sorry. Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Just tired. I’ve been…”

“You’re the elf, aren’t you?” the publican asked, interrupting her. “The new one.”

“I suppose word travels fast in Mikelburg,” she swallowed. “Wait, what do you mean new one? Are there other elves in Mikelburg?”

“Just the one,” he answered, picking up the clay mug again. “Not many come this far north anymore, not since, well not since a very long time now. I’m sorry. I’m being impertinent. You asked for a room? I have a few. How long are you going to be with us?”

Yoshiyo swallowed. She could feel her cheeks growing redder and redder. She could not get the woman’s face out of her mind. The softness of her fingers on her cheek. “I’m not sure,” she finally said. “At least a couple of weeks. If that’s alright?”

The publican laughed and nodded. “A room paid and occupied for more than a night? Of course, it’s alright lass. What’s your name now?”

He reached for something under the bar. Yoshiyo flinched back reflexively but when he produced a key she relaxed. She stared at the key a long moment before accepting it from his large hand. “I’m Yoshiyo. And, and you?”

“Symon,” he said. “Owner and proprietor of the Whispering Cauldron.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Symon.” She took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Might I get something eat too? Some hearty? And tea? Do you have tea?”

“Aye, I can do that for you, Lady Yoshiyo.”

“Oh, no. I’m not Lady Yoshiyo. Just Yoshiyo, plain and simple.”

“If you say so, Yoshiyo, if you say so.”

“There is one more thing I’d like to ask Symon, if you don’t mind indulging me.” She took another breath and felt her sense return to normal. She felt the warm the of the hearth and the eponymous cauldron. She heard a dozen conversations from all corners of the inn, smelled a dozen varieties of hay, stewed meat, bread, horseflesh, and beers.

“And what might that be?”

“When you’re done with your duties, if you don’t mind me asking some questions about your life in Mikelburg, nothing invasive or impertinent.”

“Have anything to do with what you’re doing at the library?”

She raised her eyebrow, uncertain.

“Word travels fast in Mikelburg,” he reassured her. “Like you said. I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you, Symon.”

She nodded to him and found an empty table near an empty stage. She unshouldered her pack and pulled out her sketchpad and a charcoal pencil. For the next half hour, as the inn filled with people and her soup and tea was delivered, as a minstrel came on stage and sang with the accompaniment of a lute, Yoshiyo drew the face she’d seen. She knew this face. She knew it but how did she know it? She drew it a dozen times, each sketch only increasing the mystery. She grew flushed. She knew this woman; this woman knew her. Yoshiyo had no idea how she could tell that, but she could. What was that vision? That place, that touch…

Who was she?

#fantasy #lesbian elves #sapphic elves #Sappho #high fantasy #Elves #anthropology #library #original content #Bjorn Svartalf #ace romance #reincarnation #LGBT Fantasy #Queer Romance #A Crown of Violets Roses and Crocuses #Yoshiyo #Odohe

2 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year

Text

Hey All! This week is a continuation of the ask I got last week for Anxious Sherlock! Here are the longer fics for those of you that prefer that!

I still have EVEN MORE on an unsorted list, so I’ll have a part three for the next time someone asks for some more hahaha.

Hope you enjoy this list in the meantime!

ANXIOUS / WORRIED SHERLOCK Pt. 2 - Over 20K