Tumgik
#‘why the FUCK would you put me through thinking he’s at the tavern when he was just throwing hands with a magical creature’
garoujo · 1 year
Text
HOW LONG THEY LAST DURING NNN — GENSHIN IMPACT
Tumblr media
feat : scaramouche, diluc, childe, al-haitham + kazuha
♱ warnings — f!reader, how long they last during no nut november, teasing, degradation, some grinding, not proofread. / note. this is the last fandom 4 the nnn hcs ! hope u guys enjoy <3
Tumblr media Tumblr media
・✶ 。゚ SCARAMOUCHE — NOVEMBER 12TH
it was your idea at first and as much as scaramouche didn’t want to do it, you know you had him when you told him he probably wouldn’t be able to anyway — his pride not letting him back down from a challenge that he was so hellbent on winning. he was stubborn, would never let it known just how much you had an effect on him (even though you could tell) but when you had first proposed the challenge, you never told him it was going to be easy — afterall where’s the fun in that when you could up the difficulty with a little teasing. you’d be going without him too afterall.
scaramouche had done pretty good at avoiding you this far, brushing you off with grumbles under his breath — he wasn’t stupid, he knew that you were trying to get him to give in, so selfish despite the way this was all your idea in the first place. but he’s not as invincible as he may think, he still had his limits and with enough effort you noticed a few cracks were beginning to show.
“pathetic… could barely keep your hands off of me.. are you that eager for my touch?” scaramouche breathes unsteadily from where he’s sat at your side, eyes narrowed over at you as you palm and stroke at his clothed cock — deliberately pressing your hand against it when you’d leaned in to show him something and now he doesn’t want you to fucking stop. the almost smug look on your face makes his blood boil, but he’s much too consumed by the saccharine squeeze of your fingers around him to think up a snarky remark right now. instead you feel him throb before he chokes on a whine and lets you trace your fingers beneath his waistband. “barely two weeks in and you’re getting all worked up, hah—have you always been this weak? hmmfff—“
Tumblr media
・✶ 。゚ DILUC RAGNVINDR — NOVEMBER 18TH
kaeya had mentioned it to diluc in passing while he was at the tavern, drunkenly rambling on about how his dear brother is too whipped to stand a chance and your boyfriend is much too stubborn to let the cavalry captain rile him up — so he decides he’ll show him. he warns you in advance, makes sure to fuck you until you can barely walk the night before and it does take his mind off of it for a few days, that’s it though until his cravings for you return with a vengeance.
but diluc knew he was in danger when it comes to you, knows he can’t resist you which is exactly why he’s been taking up more shifts at angels share — coming home late at night with a press of his lips to your temple and leaves before you wake up with the exact same goodbye. he missed you, but he knows he wouldn’t stand a chance if he had you sending him those pretty looks that make him feel so fucking weak.
this is why diluc knows he’s fucked when you visit him at work, his cock already hard as soon as he catches a glimpse of you coming through the tavern door and he has to swallow the groan he feels kick at his chest when you blink at him over the bar. “did.. ugh, did he put you up to this?” he grunts as he presses you against the desk he has hauled up in the back room, his hips flush against yours as his large hands grab and rip at your clothes — so eager to undress you and ease the throb in his cock that only intensifies with every grind of his bulge into you. “it’s true, i can’t deny what you do to me afterall, sweetheart.”
Tumblr media
・✶ 。゚ CHILDE / TARTAGLIA — NOVEMBER 21ST
as if he would ever pass up an opportunity to test his limits, plus childe is always looking for an excuse to be able to tease you, and himself considering he’s told himself this’ll help him get stronger. he actually does a lot better than you thought, even goes as far as to make it harder for himself — letting his hands smooth along your body, touching something he knows he can’t have as he bites down on his bottom lip and feels his cock fucking leak against his slacks.
but maybe childe had gotten a little too cocky, worked himself up a little too much until he was wound up tight — particularly ruthless when it came to training new recruits or seeking out fights with whoever looks at him the wrong way. that’s when his facade had slipped, when he’d been particularly riled up after a fight — still high on adrenaline when he sends you a hooded look, one that’s still a little wild as he approaches you quickly, like he’s a wild animal who’s finally caught a glimpse of his pray.
“oh, come on now. aren’t you gonna beg?” childe grunts from where he’s pressing himself up against you — his chest flush against your back as he lets you feel the way his cock is uncomfortably throbbing between you both, begging for the much needed friction that he’s too eager to chase right now. “i’ve been quite formidable, don’t you think?” he’s breathing hard as he stuffs his face in the crook of your neck, rutting his hips into you while his hands squeeze at your hips. “so then amuse me.”
Tumblr media
・✶ 。゚ AL-HAITHAM — 1ST OF DECEMBER
al-haitham lasts the whole month, if you were to ask him how he’d did it he’d probably drone on and on about the preparations he’d taken, the science behind it and how easy it was for him. but you know that he’s lying to some extent, even when he was pretending to be oh so focused on the book he was reading you weren’t blind. one quick look over your shoulder wouldve let you see the way his sharp gaze was only focused on your hips and ass, bulge prominent as he lays back in his seat with a low hum. “tell me now, is that all you’ve got?”
but as much as al-haitham was smart he was still human, and there was a few times he couldn’t help but fight the carnal urges to reach out and grind his cock against you — do anything to feel the tight squeeze of your cunt around him like he yearned. he’d made sure to fuck you a day before the challenge began, getting it out of his system before the inevitable purge but even just being in your presence had him in a constant state of being so fucking needy.
so you almost jump when al-haitham basically slams the door to your bedroom open just as the last day in november ends, his steps are heavy and he can feel the throb of anticipation straight through his cock as he approaches you — fingers gripping around your jaw to tilt your face to his before he’s kissing you fiercely. “well would you look at that, told you i could do it.” he grunts as he looms over you, already pulling at your clothes before his own follows — groaning with the slightest graze of his cock along your thighs. “well now sweetheart, i think i’ve earned a reward.. don’t you?”
Tumblr media
・✶ 。゚ KAZUHA KAEDEHARA — NOVEMBER 14TH
kazuha honestly didn’t think he’d be able to do it, he was entirely addicted to you and your cunt but the team were placing bets and he’d been a little tipsy when he’d agreed and didn’t want to be the first one to lose afterall. but it’s just as hard as he imagined it would be, he can barely even look at you without his gaze becoming heavy, cock twitching and begging for him to reach out to touch you, to have you and take you like he desires but he also can’t stand the chuckles from the surrounding crew.
that is until you’re finally both alone for the first time in two weeks, kazuha had went out of his way to make sure this didn’t happen but he couldn’t stand not giving you the attention you deserved, it only taking a particularly pretty look from you to have him crumbling. but he should’ve known this would be the outcome when you decided to take your place pressed up against his side, arms wrapped around his waist so tight he can barely breathe — but that’s probably due to how much he needs to cum right now.
“now would be the best time to rest well.” kazuha breathes, low and ragged as his chest expands with each inhale he takes and he’s sure you must be able to tell the effect you’re having on him right now. but his words only seem to draw you closer, your fingertips resting against his thigh to squeeze at the skin — close enough to have his hips twitching before he whimpers and clenches his jaw. “ah.. i see, you are relentless.” your fingertips only crawl closer and he can’t stop the way his hand rests over yours instinctively to hold you there, letting you palm and stroke at his cock before he cums in his pants with a long and low whine.
Tumblr media
© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
4K notes · View notes
fictionplumis · 1 year
Text
Dreamling: Arranged Marriage AU
This idea won't leave me alone until I write it. A Dreamling arranged marriage AU where Night decides her children could stand to be a little closer to mortals lest they end up like their father and completely separated from them, so she decides one of them needs to take on a mortal consort--who would then become immortal, no she does not think this would eventually compromise the integrity of her idea. Ideally, all of them would have a mortal consort, but even she recognizes the problem with that. Destiny doesn't meddle in mortal affairs at all, Death is far too busy, Destruction has been pulling back from his duties and neglecting his realm (he's still there, for now, but they all know he's not really doing anything anymore, they just don't know how to bring it up to him), Desire is far too immature, making a mortal spend eternity with Despair would be cruel, and Delirium would drive her spouse insane.
So it's decided that Dream (this is about Sandman, not the YouTuber, if this post breaks containment PLEASE understand this is about the Sandman NOT the YouTuber) is the only suitable candidate, and the others will just have to experience mortals through their sibling-in-law. Night declares it, says she doesn't care how it's done as long as it's done, the end. 
(I'm sorry all you people that want Night and Time to be good supportive parents, but I read Overture, they fucking suck. Night will not show up to the wedding because she's already written off her children as selfish and ungrateful anyway, this is in part a way to punish them and to punish Dream, and Time finds this ridiculous but knows it will happen, has already happened, is happening, and he doesn't really care.)
Dream hates this. If he had his choice he would pluck the first mortal up, marry them, and promptly forget about them and go back to ruling his realm. That's why his siblings decide that he cannot, under any circumstances, be in charge of this.
Instead they decide on a friendly competition. They will each (all except for Destiny, who already knows the various different outcomes and has decided to observe but not participate) pick a candidate for Dream. The Endless don't really abide by silly things like linear time and whatnot, so it could literally be any mortal they nominate. They will each then devise a trial to test what they each believe to be an important quality necessary to marry Dream of the Endless and become Prince Consort of the Dreaming. All candidates will be put through the tests until there's one remaining. 
(I'm sorry, Calliope will not be in this because I can't think of a realistic way she would be eliminated and she's technically not mortal anyway.)
Death finds her candidate in a dingy tavern on Earth, circa 1389, when she overhears a drunken snippet of conversation. A man boldly claiming she's stupid and he's going to live forever. It's a jest, she knows. He doesn't actually believe he'll live forever, but there is the desire to within him and in thirty seconds he's proven himself a natural storyteller. It's a whim that she approaches him with an amused, "Did I hear that right, you intend to live forever?" 
The table goes silent. Hob's companions are smirking between him and the woman suggestively and Hob waves them off with a laugh. "Aye, that's right." 
"I believe you and I need to talk, then. Somewhere more private." 
There's some immature tutting from his mates, and Hob looks surprised and thrilled all at once, because she's very beautiful though why she's interested in him when her outfit implies she's chaste-- But hell if he's going to pass up the opportunity, so he goes with her, tries to make a move on her the second they're around the corner and she laughs in his face, easily bats him away, and goes, "You're cute, but not my type, Robert Gadling. No, I'm here to offer you a chance at immortality." 
He grows wary at first. Asks if she's the devil, but she just stares at him patiently until he realizes who she is and stumbles back in fear and surprise, only to be laughed at again. Kinder, this time. 
"I'm not here to take you, though..." She eyes the tankard in his hand with raised brows. "It is a shame you didn't lay off the ale sooner." He quickly sets the tankard down and steps away from it. 
The deal is this. He'll be part of a competition, though he won't know it or remember this conversation. Should he win, he'll be immortal. If he loses, he'll be returned to his life right before she approached him, to live out what few hours he has left, never remembering any of this. She leaves out how he'll become immortal, leaves out that he'll end up marrying her sullen little brother and becoming Prince Consort to his realm, but what are the changes he'll win anyway?
Dream is surprised to find that each of his siblings picks someone that does, on some level, appeal to him. He's a romantic at heart, it's hard not to fall a little bit in love with each other of them as he watches how this plays out.
The competition is this: 
Each candidate will live what they perceive to be four lifetimes in a dream. For the most part, they're just going to be jumping from important decision to important decision, with the blanks filled in for them through false memories to make it feel like it's been four lifetimes and not a few days at most. At the end of each lifetime, they'll be asked if they wish to continue living. That is Death's trial, because anyone marrying an Endless must be resilient enough to keep going. 
The first lifetime is Despair's test, in which the candidates discover that they won't age, they won't die, that their life may very well be unending. They lose their families, their friends, and realize that they always will. They don't know if there's any way to opt out or not, so for all they know, one day in the very distance future, they will be the only one left. Despair wants to make sure the idea of Endlessness is not a curse for Dream's spouse to bear, though she herself would thrive off that, personally.
Ironically, it's Despair's candidate, the queen of the first human civilization, that falls to this test. Nada lives the first lifetime without ever knowing true, passionate love. She's pushed into marrying someone who is a good ruler for her people, and when they pass, she marries someone else who is also a good ruler for her people, and she sees that there are those besides herself who have the judgement necessary to rule. She's proud of the city she's created, she's proud of her people, and the idea of eventually watching them die and come to an end as all things do, it kills her inside. It doesn't matter that it might be millennia from now. When a gentle voice asks one day if she wishes to continue living, she contemplates it, contemplates her current husband, closes her eyes, and says, "No. I think it's time for a new queen to rule my people." 
Hob, on the other hand, has spent his lifetime fighting, mostly, a bit of highway robbery when he couldn't find a war. Lots of brothels. He's eaten stuff he shouldn't have, gotten himself mortally injured more than a few times, bounced back from it, and now he's into this printing thing. No guilds to restrict it yet, it pays well, and he's been teaching himself how to read. He's sitting in an inn, drinking ale next to the hearth, no smoke in his eyes, and thinking about swindling the table next to him in a round of cards to pay for some more ale. When the same voices asks him if wishes to keep living, his eyes get bright and he answers, "Oh yes." The thought of what his immortality might mean never really crossed his mind. He lost people, sure, but he would have lost them anyway, and there's always more people to meet. This is amazing. 
The second lifetime is Desire's test. Desire, who actually cares on some level, in their own way, and knows that if their big brother marries an idiot, they'll have to put up with them, so they have to make sure Dream marries someone halfway decent. Someone who might keep him busy. Someone who desires things strongly, but is not so ruled by them that they'll give up their duty to chase distractions, nor will they give up if Dream doesn't desire them the way they wish--which is very likely. In Desire's test, each candidate is given people to love, fully and completely, with all their heart, and are forced to watch that thing die violently and terribly only to be asked right afterwards if they still wish to live. 
Delirium's candidate is Killala of the Glow, who finds out that the beautiful green star of her solar system, which is the cause of her power, is a conscious, living thing. And he loves her. He is everything she ever wanted. With him, her powers grow. She learns to use them better, to get stronger with them, to understand them and herself. It shouldn't have happened so soon, they should have had millennia together, but something happens and he has just enough time to warn her, to explain that he's dying and that she needs to be strong and use her powers to shield her world from him or his death will raze it all to the ground. She doesn't understand how this could happen, she can't concentrate through her grief, her planet is destroyed and as she's floating amongst the burning cold heat of her lover collapsing in on himself, she's asked if she still wishes to live and she says no. 
Hob meets Eleanor, who is charming and funny and matches him wit for wit. She doesn't ask about his past or how he acquired his money. He's never been in love before. He thought he would continue finding his companionship in brothels and had felt perfectly content with that, but now there's her, and he wants so very badly to marry her, to be her escape away from her traditionalist of a father who stifles her wit into silence. So he does. And he has a son, a beautiful baby boy that he promises the world to. Then there's the promise of another child, and he's thrilled. 
He's there in the room, holding Eleanor's hand, terrified when she goes into labor months earlier than planned. She's in so much pain. The baby isn't crying. The midwife is trying desperately to stop the bleeding. The blood is still warm on Hob's skin and clothing as he holds Eleanor's lifeless body and sobs. His son needs a mother. Needs a father but he knows, in that moment, that he will be a useless one to the boy like this. Robyn has his temper, he'll die too young and Hob will have failed him. 
When he's asked if he wishes to keep living, he thinks of how the blood is still warm on his skin, and how ashen Eleanor looks in his arms, and he brushes her hair back from her face and says, brokenly, "Someone has to remember her. She wouldn't... She wouldn't want me to give up, now would she?" 
Delirium knows better than any endless how pain and suffering can break a mind. Dream is the Lord of Nightmares as much as he is the Lord of Dreams. Or maybe she was just feeling particularly sadistic because she doesn't understand why she can't get married, she would love to get married, she could turn her spouse into bubbles and they would look so pretty floating around her realm, or maybe even glitter, or frogs! But no, she's not getting married, Dream is, and Dream is mean sometimes, so maybe she just decides to be mean to whoever he gets to married. It's hard to tell if even she knows her own motivation. 
But the candidates suffer for her trial, pushed to their breaking points and then past them. 
Destruction's candidate has never really known suffering before these trials. Or living, really. See, Destruction hadn't actually gone out to try to find someone for Dream, he had been busy trying to learn how to carve a piece of marble into a shape without reducing it to rubble. Once everyone else had found their candidate, he went to Desire and was like, "Hey, so..." 
Desire sighed, and rolled their eyes, and was like, "Fine, I'll help you. I'll construct a woman to be your candidate. If I don't win, maybe you will." 
Thus Alianora was created. She's strong, smart, and while she can handle loss, she was created to be a lover. To be loved. To be a partner. Under Delirium's trial, she is alone, she suffers alone, no one pays her any mind or they hurt her worse, and she withers. She grows morose, she grows desperate, she grows hysterical in her isolation. She loses her mind. She never does answer the question of whether or not she wishes to keep living. It's questionable if she can answer the question, if she even fully understands it. Unfortunately, there is no coming back from such a thing, even if they fix her mind and these trials became like just a dream to her. There's no place for her to go now that she's lost this trial, no home for her to go back to. She's the only true causality of this game and Dream, aching for her and bitter over Desire's causal indifference, makes a Dreamscape for Alianora to live in where she'll never be alone. It's the least he can do.
Hob goes a touch insane himself, but the cracks in his mind are strategic. Like crumple zones in a car, it's to survive what comes next. He's drowned as a witch. Over and over, rocks tied to his ankles, tossed into the water, and every time he surfaces they catch him and do it all over again. Again and again. Dirty pond water filling his lungs, his chest fit to burst, throat and nose raw from inhaling liquid, skin clammy and near rotten. He lets himself break so that when the moment for real escape presents itself, he's not so gone that he misses the opportunity or that he stupidly cocks it all up. 
He does escape, but he's lost everything in a world where value is determined by wealth. He sleeps on the street, mutters to himself, has arguments with made up people in an attempt to kept his mind sharp and to distract himself from the decades where he starves and starves but never dies, his stomach endlessly digesting itself and he throws up what little bit of scraps he can get his hands on, which just makes it worse. 
When he's asked if he still wishes to live, he tosses his head back and laughs, startling a couple people walking past him on the street, who walk a bit quicker, and he asks, "Are you crazy?" Dream is leaned in where they watch these dreams projected above the family meeting table, and if one paid attention they might see that his eyes were rimmed red, thinking that Delirium's trial would claim another. At least he could be fixed, and would soon after go to the Sunless Lands to live in peace. He deserved that. They all did. 
"Death is a mug's game! I have so much left to live for!" 
And now there are two left to face down Destruction's trial. 
Destruction may not have put effort into finding a suitable candidate, but he did devise a good trial. While his brother did need someone strong and resilient, they had to be what Dream lacked as well. They needed to be flexible. They needed to learn and grow from their mistakes. They needed to have compassion. All of these things to teach Dream the same, to encourage these things during the moments that Dream lacks them. His trial isn't about pushing the candidates into choosing Death, there's a very clear answer to his and if the candidate does not find it, they fail, whether they want to continue living or not. 
Desire's candidate has yet to break. She has no intention of dying. She's more than willing to let go of what she desires if it means furthering her ambitions. Suffering doesn't break her, it only pisses her off. Dream isn't sure what to think of this woman. He doesn't really like her on a personal level, she would be nothing but trouble actually, but there is a certain appeal to her. He would never have to worry about hurting her unintentionally, at least. But she's greedy and she doesn't care who she hurts to get her way. And when Destruction's test rewrites her memories to have it where her immortality is granted to her through the blood of other witches, of her sisters, killed by her and sacrificed to the Hecate, the Three-in-One, the One Who is Three, and that more will die by her hands to keep living, she feels a twinge of grief and guilt. 
So Thessaly simply decides to not think about it. She misses them, but it's just proof that she was stronger than them. Smarter than them. That she deserved to be here instead of dying out with them. And if she's able to continue making these sacrifices, if no one is able to stop her, then clearly it's just more proof she deserves this. 
She fails, and no amount of Desire calling bullshit on Destruction's verdict changes his mind. 
Hob, meanwhile, has rebuilt his life. His fortune. He's living well again, he's at no risk of starving, no need to fight in anymore wars because he has pockets of money all across the world he can run off to at the first sign of trouble. He has connections and a successful business. 
He's talking with someone about said business only to have them eye him judgmentally. He's told, "It is a poor thing to enslave another." 
He's a bit rankled at being called out on it. He shrugs, says that's just how it's done, because it is. It is. And at first it looks like he's going to fail too and this whole venture will have to be start all over, new candidates found, but as they watch him, the words aren't easily pushed from his mind. He dwells on them. He starts going through charters and logs. He gets restless sitting at home, surrounded by his newly regained wealth. He starts contacting his ships, digging into their practices that's never really taken the time to learn the specifics of before. A captain offers to let Hob sail a round with him so he could show off how safe the investment is, fearing that perhaps Hob is only questioning because he's afraid of potential repercussions.
He's shown how people are collected. Chained together. The conditions they're kept in on ship, the treatment the sailors give them. The captain explains that if they're pursued, it's easy enough to dump the cargo into the ocean, the chains ensure they all sink, no one is the wiser. 
They don't leave port until everyone is loaded off the ship, and Hob demands they go straight back to England. He contacts every ship in his business and puts a stop to it. Cuts every shipping tie he has and when captains tell him he'll never make another quid, he tells him them he doesn't care, it's not worth it. The guilt still eats at him. It's not enough to make him forget the imagined faces of all the lives he's destroyed, drowning the same way he had, again and again, or resigned to a fate worse than death in most cases. He drinks himself into a stupor most nights. 
He's drunk when he's asked if he still wishes to live. It's not the kind, understanding woman's voice that usually asks. It's a man's, soft and deep, curious, and Hob swirls his glass of brandy, contemplating whether he deserves to or not when he was responsible for the death of so many innocents. They weren't killed in a fight, they didn't have anything worth taking from them, it was just cruelty against helpless people. He swings back the rest of his drink and mutters, bitterly, "History has a way of erasing these things, doesn't it? It forgets what it doesn't want to remember. Someone needs to remember. Someone needs to remind people of this. It won't ever be enough to make up for what I've allowed, but this is something I must live with. To die now and let the world forget would make me a coward shirking responsibility for myself." 
Just like that, he's sober again and standing in a room that's a mix of the time periods he lived through in his dream. It's warm, inviting. There's a four poster bed, a large hearth with piles of comfortable pillows in front of it. An oak wardrobe simply carved but beautiful. Rugs over stone floors. There's a large balcony that lets in plenty of natural light, and it overlooks fantastical mountains in the distance, and a harbor filled with ships of every kind, and sea serpents lazily winding their way through them. Hob had never given much thought to what his perfect room would look like, but he knows he's standing in it. 
The dream he lived through feels like a dream, it's hazy and indistinct, disconnected from the emotions that he once felt were so real and consumed by. But he's not the same man he was when it started. He's retained the lessons learned about living, about compassion, he's more mature, he still remembers how to read. It's all still there, but the loss and grief and guilt are distant now, more like a story he read than a life he lived. 
And Death is there with him, dressed in black jeans and a tank top, smiling proudly at him. He suddenly remembers the competition and has a brief moment of panic, blurts out, "Oh god, I lost and drunk myself to death and this is heaven--" 
"No, you won, Hob!"
"What?"
"You won!" And then she has to explain that while yes, he technically will be immortal, it's only because he now has to marry her little brother. They move out to the balcony and she explains that they're in the Dreaming and what that means while Hob looks around in awe. "He's not bad, my brother," she assures. "He's a bit distant, mostly. A stickler for his rules. He's prideful and can have quite temper if you insult that. It's wise to remember that he rules dreams and nightmares here. But at worst, he'll probably go back to his work and forget you exist, and you'll have the whole of his realm to explore. Unfortunately, you can't back out now." 
"Oh, I wouldn't if I could," Hob assures quickly, waving the concern off. "Marrying a nightmare sure beats rotting to maggots in the ground. I'll take it. What's expected of me?" 
She tells him that he probably won't have any actual duties, and Prince Consort will more than likely just be a title. Theoretically, Hob could hold sway over the Dreaming nearly as much as Dream did, but that required getting close to Dream. "Consummating your marriage," she tactfully puts it. "Each time you got closer to my brother, each time he lets you closer and as his trust and care grows, you would find the Dreaming responding easier and easier to you. The Dreaming is an extension of him, after all. And it's better that way, because you're immortal but still human, and suddenly having awareness of this would be way too much to pile on your mind all at once. But I doubt you'll have to worry about it. My brother seems curious about you but he's stubborn and easily distracted."
The wedding happens that night. 
Hob hasn't met his betrothed yet. 
Death dresses him in a stunning white suit with gold accents. His cravat is the finest woven white silk, embroidered in gold. He has a halo of gold light. There's a bloody cape. It drapes like heavy velvet but it's light and sheer and glitters like stars. He's a nervous wreck and she laughs gently and assures him that he'll know what to do when the time comes. 
Everything that dreams attends the wedding. It shouldn't have been possible to fit so many people in a room, but they're there. It should have taken years for Hob to walk down the aisle to the staircase to the raised dais and the throne, but it was a short walk and the whole time Hob can do nothing but stare at the man standing in front of the throne who has his chin raised, his dark eyes a host of starlight. He does seem vaguely curious. And haughty. And prideful. And beautiful. He's dressed in a similar suit of black, his sheer cape swirling with galaxies and nebula, and there's a sword of obsidian glass in his hands, the point resting gently against the stone floor. 
Hob knows intuitively to kneel the second he ascends the last stair, but he can't quite manage to duck his head like he knows is proper because he can't look away from this creature. Thankfully it produces something startlingly close to amusement in his betrothed. 
"Robert Gadling," he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying, the same one that had last asked him if he wished to live. He holds out his hand, a ruby ring already on his finger. "Swear your fealty to me." And then lower, softer, just between the two of them, "Do not be nervous, the words will come." 
And they do. A bit breathless, but they come after Hob reaches for the hand and presses his lips to the ring, his eyes still on the entity soon to be his husband in what has to be the weird marriage ritual of all time. "I swear my undying fealty to you, Morpheus, Lord of the Dreaming, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories and Shaper of Form. I swear to reside at your side, to give my loyalty to you and this Realm first and foremost, and to never raise a hand or support any threat to the denizens here. I am yours, Dream of the Endless." The words tighten through his chest like a binding and good lord, there's the smallest little smile on the Lord's face and he doesn't have a halo but the way the light from the stained glass windows behind him shines, it looks like he does and it's beautiful. 
Dream takes back his hand. He raises his sword and taps both of Hob's shoulders. At the second one, Hob feels the weight of a ring on his own finger. "Arise, Prince Consort of the Dreaming." 
Most people leave after that, they wake up and go about their lives, knowing something changed but not sure what. Some stay, and there's some mingling, and a reception dinner, and Hob barely gets a second to say two words to his husband. He's introduced to family, to Titania and motherfucking Lucifer. A librarian gives him her congratulations, a scarecrow with a pumpkin heads does so with a bit more reluctance and wariness, a raven with a white breast chats with him. She explains that she retired not too long ago, and nods towards a larger raven currently trying to figure out how to get his head into a champagne glass, explaining that he's her replacement. Despite how stupid he looks, she assures Hob that he's a good raven. 
There's a murder at one point. A man is stabbed through the eye with a serving fork. Some blond man in sunglasses looks intrigued by the turn of events, but he's the only one that bothers to react. The murderer tells him not to fucking try it, and then drags the body off. His husband merely tells him that it's normal and fine and that's pretty much the most he says aside from introducing Hob to people and staring at him from the corner of his black eyes. It's a whirlwind night and Hob ends it champagne drunk and passed out alone in his bed in his private quarters, not realizing until morning that he doesn't even know how to find his way around, let alone where the fuck his husband's room is. 
But when he stares at the ruby on his ring in the morning, he knows that he won't stop trying to woo his husband until they are properly, happily married, because one glimpse and Hob Gadling or whatever his surname was now, was most definitely head over heels in love. And thus begins the long and arduous process of courting his husband, the most stubborn man in existence, who is terrified of falling of in love and potentially being too much and would just rather keep his distance thank you very much. He makes it hard for Hob, until Hob remembers Death explaining that the Dreaming was an extension of him. If getting closer to Dream makes him closer to the Dreaming, maybe getting closer to the Dreaming will make him closer to Dream? It's worth a shot.
At the very least, Dream definitely takes note of the way everyone in his realm seems to be so smitten with his Prince Consort all of the sudden.
And that's it, that's all I have. I'm yeeting this out there to get it out of my head and now that you have it, you're free to do whatever you want with it. Change it up, write it, draw it, whatever, I don't care, you can have it now, just tell me if you do something with it because I wanna see okay thanks byee.
1K notes · View notes
daytaker · 3 months
Note
hii hellooo, may i request brothers with a clown core mc? their outfits most often being very colorful but their personality being the opposite? like somewhat cold and very blunt, not talking much and if talking then it’s about something mildly disturbing like murder investigations or an odd fascination with deadly diseases stuff like that
sorry that it’s extremely specific and thank you regardless _(┐「ε:)_
Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]
When you first arrived, no one was sure what to think. They looked you over. Your pink hair, your cyan shorts. A yellow T-shirt and rainbow suspenders. Gaudy makeup and adorable pink tennis shoes. Beaded bracelets and necklaces and colorful tights.
And a box of smokes in your back pocket.
"Welcome to the House of Lamentation," Lucifer says, gesturing grandly at the stately mansion ahead of you.
You say nothing. Instead, you pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Taking a drag, you lazily gaze at the house, then back at your host, who looks disgusted.
"Make sure you only do that outside," he says, nodding to the box of cigarettes in your hand.
You blow a puff of smoke in his face and start walking to the door, completely ignoring the sounds of Lucifer struggling to contain his rage.
"Why's it called that?" you finally ask as you stop at the front doors. "'House of Lamentation'?"
Lucifer, having composed himself by now, steps up beside you. "This is a replica of a house from the human world," he explains. "In it, an entire family was murdered; the parents, the servant, and six of their seven sons. The seventh--"
"Ohhh. This is the Sutton house," you say, nodding.
"Excuse me?"
"The Sutton house. Massachusetts, 1923. Elijah Sutton, oldest of seven sons, runs into the local tavern screaming that his servant killed the whole family and himself. Most folks today think it was Elijah who really did it. I know I do."
You take one more drag from your cigarette, then drop it on the ground and put it out with the heel of your shoe.
"So this is their house, huh? Sick."
---
It's breakfast on your second day in the Devildom. You took extra time to apply your godawful makeup this morning, and you're sure it shows, because the brothers keep glancing at you as if they're not quite sure what they should say.
"You talk to them, Mammon," mumbles Satan. "You're their babysitter."
"Ah... ahem." Mammon casts a glare at his brother, then looks at you. "So, uh... Human." You stare at him with a dead-eyed expression that seems to unnerve him even more. "...We're goin' to RAD today, and there's a couple a things you should know." You continue staring.
Mammon looks to his brothers for help, but they all avoid eye contact. "Uhhh... Just... try not to get eaten, 'kay? Lucifer'll be pissed if you die on my watch."
"Do demons eat people?" you ask. "Like, raw?"
"Sometimes! So don't mess around with 'em, got it?"
"That's gotta be messy as fuck."
"It is!"
"You got any photos?"
"....Eh?"
---
"So I get that you're the seven deadly sins," you say to Satan, sprawled out in an armchair in the library, "but like... is that all you guys got here?"
Satan, who had been minding his own business and innocently reading a book of curses, looks irritated. "Is that all of what?"
"I dunno. Bad shit shaped like people." You shrug. "Like, you got the Four Horsemen or somethin'?"
"Of course not," Satan snaps. "That would be ridiculous."
You shrug. "Embodiment of plague? Too ridiculous to believe. Embodiment of wrath? Well, obviously that's a thing."
---
"You have to make pacts with Lucifer and his brothers," Belphie urges you through the door. You stare at him, then take a drag from your cigarette. As long as Lucifer is occupied in the music room with that weird record, you're going to break every rule in this damn house.
"How am I supposed to do that? Am I gonna split up my soul Horcrux style? Give everybody a slice?"
Belphie stares at you for a few seconds. You don't realize how badly he wishes he could kill you in this moment. "Are you going to help me or not?"
You shrug. "What do I get out of it?"
He blinks at you in utter bewilderment. "You... make me happy?"
You stare at him. He stares at you. You stare at him. He continues to stare at you.
You head back down the stairs.
127 notes · View notes
pearl-blue-musings · 11 months
Text
This is based on a line from this: to be oblivious in love
Alhaitham x fem!reader
Word count: ~400
Tumblr media
Alhaitham isn’t aware of his own feelings for you until it’s basically smashed across his head. He’s someone who’s aware of his emotions. It’s a matter of processing them and not explaining them. He���s able to explain away everything in his life through intricate words and sarcasm, even his own feelings. When you were hurt by a mark you received he would tell you:
“Obviously you’re smarter than that. Just try again.”
Of course in the moment it hurt you but Alhaitham was hurt seeing you hurt. He doesn’t think grades should define you and wonders why they do for you. You’re beyond that. Isn’t it obvious?
There’s one night in particular where it seems his emotions have finally processed and he understands everything. Alhaitham has always seen you in a different light and for some reason it’s glowing now. Those strange sensations in his stomach make sense whenever he was near you. The way his heart rate would increase around you or how he would lose his composure are all finally understood. It’s when he’s at home reading with Kaveh working on his own stuff nearby. His roommate announces he’s taking a break to head to the tavern to meet up with you. This catches the grand scribe’s attention and he briefly puts his book down.
“Oh? She didn’t tell me you two were hanging out.”
Kaveh reels at the inquiry and huffs. “Well, we didn’t wanna tell you cause you get weirdly possessive of her.”
Alhaitham scoffs and places his book on the table in front of him. “That’s absurd. I treat her the same way I treat everyone.”
That causes Kaveh to roll his eyes as he picks up his satchel. “Right, and you’re not gonna react when I tell you I’m gonna ask her out this evening.”
“Absolutely not!”
Both men are shocked by the outburst. Alhaitham finds himself standing, his knees in pain from hitting the table. His eyes are fuming and his heart is set ablaze by what he’s heard. His roommate is interested in you? How? Why? Well he knows why and how but you’re supposed to be in love with him just like how he loves you.
Oh
Oh
Now it makes sense.
The man in love finds himself scrambling to grab his stuff and rushes toward the door. “I’m coming with you. You can ask her out after I tell her I love her.”
Kaveh snickers and grabs his own key just in case. “Fucking finally!”
68 notes · View notes
wellthebardsdead · 11 months
Text
Ancarno: Lord Varla? Is that you?!
Marigold: *in the arcanum looking for books on the elder scrolls* Oh fuck me no- god why?
Taliesin: *out of sight on the other side of the bookshelf with Kai & Cary* what is it?
Marigold: my ex- *turns his head* Ancano? What are you doing here?
Ancano: I’m here on assignment *quickly walks to him pulling him into a hug* thank the gods you’re alive-
Marigold: *realising he thinks he was killed or kidnapped when his parents were murdered* I? Of course I’m alive. I left home to further my arcane research. I thought you would have known? Father promised to inform you our courtship would be put on hold until I returned.
Ancano: *visibly looking distraught thinking he doesn’t know about his parents* Fleur, you need to sit down…
Marigold: *rolls his eyes but winks at tal through the gap as a signal for them to sneak out* Sit down for what? *huffs putting the book back and walking to another bookshelf* You haven’t found someone else have you?…
Ancano: *follows after him completely oblivious to team dragonborn sneaking out the doors* What? No, I already fulfilled my mating purposes that’s why your father allowed me to court you in this first place- *takes his hand* it’s about your family…
Marigold: *already mentally preparing the fake waterworks* … what… what’s happened?…
*a few hours later*
Kaidan: *pacing back and forth in the tavern* I can’t believe we just left him up there with that creep.
Taliesin: the alternative is he get caught with a dominion deserter, the dominions runaway prince, and the last known Akaviri in skyrim which I remind you he would gladly cut your head off on sight!
Inigo: They do not know he is the murderer of his parents at least…
Lucien: but now the dominion knows he’s alive and, cary… you said your father was fond of him?… to the point he saw him as a nephew or second son like figure?…
Caryalind: …Father will send to try and bring us both home-
Lucien: and if he finds out he’s the dragonborn who is aiding the empire-
Caryalind: …Were both screwed.
Marigold: *staggers in holding his hand in pain* anybody got a healing potion and is comfortable resetting broken bones?…
Kaidan: *quickly runs to him and dusts the snow off his cloak before looking at his hand* what happened? What did he do?
Marigold: We went for a walk around the grounds talking after I gave myself a headache fake crying over my parents ‘tragic’ and gruesome murders. We spoke on where our ‘relationship’ was headed and he got upset that I was choosing my magical studies over our wedding and he tried to kiss me after pinning me between him and a wall. So I broke his nose. And I think my hand too gods he has a hard head.
Kaidan: *visibly shaking with rage* how much is bail for murder in winterhold?
Marigold: more than he’s worth, let’s just hurry up and leave before he comes looking for me.
Inigo: where are we headed?
Marigold: a cave on an iceberg in the sea of ghosts.
Taliesin: no thanks I’ll just die.
62 notes · View notes
mxnsterbabe · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Halsin/Female, Tiefling Tav SFW Wordcount: 638 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist | Request for anonymous!
Even Tav, Cleric of Ilmater, sometimes needs a moment of reassurance.
Tumblr media
There was only so much that Tav could do. Tav, Cleric of Ilmater, renouned Faerun healer, still couldn't perform miracles. That sort of thing was reserved solely for the Gods, and Tav was just a simple tiefling trying to make the world a little better.
Everyone in her party was, suffice to say, fucked up in their own unique way. Astarion, because of his master. Karlach, because of her heart. Wyll, because of his pact. Even Halsin, although he tried harder even than Astarion, perhaps, not to let anyone see it.
At the end of the day, even the best Healing Word couldn't save people from the everyday torment of just existing. 
With a groan, Tav dropped her head onto the tavern table, wishing, for once, that she actually drank.
"Is everything all right?" a gruff voice called from behind, over the din of the busy tavern. The voice sounded concerned, tinged with confusion, over her left shoulder.
"M'fine," she mumbled into the table, sucking in a deep breath. She had to be strong. For her party. Even if it was tearing her apart inside. Wasn't that the way of Ilamter? To suffer so that others didn't have to?
The voice hummed, unconvinced. Tav knew who it was behind her, would have recognised him anywhere, and she felt a stutter of guilt as he lowered himself into the seat beside her.
"Something is troubling you. Care to share?"
Tav shifted her head to glance up at Halsin with tired eyes. "I'm fine," she said again. More to convince herself than anyone else. "This is my burden to bear, and-"
"Bullshit."
Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
Halsin's expression was not unkind, but it was stern. "We are all friends here, and I like to think that we are... that we are more. If there is something on your mind, I hope that you would feel comfortable enough to tell me, so that I can help."
Tav's cheeks flushed, thankfully unnoticeable on her cherry-red skin. She scratched one curved horn, a nervous habit, and let her gaze flicker away.
Why did Halsin have to be so kind? There was guilt there, settled heavily into her gut, that he felt the need to help her.
"Lost in your head again, love? Come back to me."
Tav blinked, and it only served to make her cheeks warm further. Softly, hesitantly, she leaned her head against his broad shoulder.
"Our party are all dealing with a lot," she admitted softly, and her voice was so quiet that she wasn't even sure Halsin could hear her. Not above the chatter of the tavern, anyway. "It's my responsibility - no, my calling - to ease their pain. Sometimes I just wish... I just wish for a moment to myself. A moment to digest, and - and worry about myself, instead of everybody else."
"If you need to take a break, love, you should."
"I can't. Halsin, you don't understand. When I pledged myself to Ilmater, I promised to put others above myself. To sacrifice my happiness, my health, if I have to. To be so selfish is against my teachings, and-"
"And how do you expect to care for others, if you are in such a state you cannot care for yourself?"
Tav's lips parted to reply, only to snap closed again when she realised there was nothing to say. She sat with that for a moment, lips pursed. Debating. Considering.
Then, in a shuddering voice she murmured, "you make it sound as if I'm... important."
One of Halsin's thick arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, between the curve of her horns. 
When he spoke, he said something that made Tav's heart flutter, relief spreading through her chest.
"To me, you're the most important person in the whole world."
23 notes · View notes
shinobuily · 1 year
Text
Shatter your heart - al haitham x reader
warnings; reader is scaramouches sister, kinda out of character al haitiam idk 😓, slight cursing, pov might change, angst no comfort. (character count; 6.2k)
You were created by the electro archon herself as a heartless puppet for one of her botched experiments before being set aside. You've been traveling around Teyvat for many centuries before settling down in Sumeru to attend the Akademiya. You were savvy, of course, considering how long you had been skulking around here. Since your brother was a well-known wanderer and the only person you truly had, you were respected at the Akademiya and sort of thought of as an outcast. Given that you couldn't really understand people or their emotions, you usually ended up lashing out on them so you two chose to avoid them.
But one day, a certain scribe made the decision to try and alter that. You two ran into each other and you ended up dropping your books. He then asks a question as he handed you your belongings, "I think I've seen you around before. What's your name?" Was he genuinely speaking to you? This made you freeze.
“Don't talk to me again, or I'll fucking shatter your heart into pieces.” Your piercing gaze caught his as you instantly snatched up your books and raced away, such a strange girl, he thought.
At the city's Tavern is where you guys had your second encounter. He stepped in viewing the area as if it was new gazing at the fancy dimmed lights as he heard people laughing loudly and the sound of glasses clinking together. The air smelt of weed and beer, oh how he hates those smells, why did he even come here.. he thought, sighing and putting a hand through his hair. He proceeded to find empty seats for him and his roomie. After a few drinks he spotted you, leaving Kaveh to go say hello since he'd had enough of his babbling. He would rather have a few beers with you instead.
He made the choice to approach you after the boy sitting next to you (he later on discovered that was your brother) has left. You turned around after he lightly touched you on the shoulder. “What exactly did I tell you? I warned you not to speak to me once again. My god you people never listen...” You whispered the final phrase before turning away and completing your drink. This shocked him—was there really someone resisting the scribe? no way. (yes way) Despite the fact that all he got in return was you rolling your eyes at him, he still made an effort to strike up a conversation with you. When he saw the person sitting next to you was coming back, he quit trying and went back to his roommate, where he listened to him continuing his ramble about his life for the fifteenth time today.
The third meeting went off without a hitch. You two shared the same major and since there was a project everyone needed a partner. He saw this as an opportunity to pursue a relationship with you. He rushed over to you as everyone was leaving the lecture. “Hey y/n.” you whirled around.
“What's up scribe?” you said so casually. Unusually (and very rarely), you were in a pleasant mood, which always leads to strange choices on your part. "Would you be interested in working with me on this project? In the end, the professor said, it was necessary.” Normally, you would team up with your brother but you thought it wouldn't hurt to try something different. “Sure," you said and gave him your phone “Give me your number so that we can text each other.”
“Wow, moving out of your comfort zone for once, I see?” he said and smirked. When he was done putting his number in, you grumbled and immediately grabbed your phone back since you didn't want to talk to him any longer before you regretted it.
He reasoned that you two ended up becoming friends and began chatting more even after the project was completed. You were introduced to his roommate, the one and only Kaveh. You two got along "fine," in his opinion. While you two collaborated to annoy him whenever you had the chance.
Even though you kept making these friends, your sense of emptiness persisted. What a liar you are, you managed to convince everyone, including your own brother that you were content with your new so called friends, that you were at peace, and that you finally felt like you belonged. Feeling compelled to spend time with them all the time and being exhausted all the time you switched it up for once. Making yourself the puppeteer, not wanting to be the fool, so you played him instead.
Al Haitham was blinded, but he didn't care because he eventually developed feelings for you. Why? because you were stunning you received compliments quite frequently however you brushed them off. You were also gifted beyond belief, someone of rare skill. How could he not fall for you?
He imagined that you guys were having fun while conversing and hanging out in your dorm. He proceeded to say what was lingering on his mind for the last couple days. “Hey, can I tell you something?”
“Hmph, go ahead, you can tell me anything, scribe." You approached him and placed your arm on the chair he was seated on. He deadpanned, "I like you.” Your eyes widened as your mind began to scream at you. This was the one time in your entire life that you genuinely experienced regret and guilt. Your stomach dropped, well fuck this. He was the loveliest boy ever, you had to admit. Why are you feeling this way right now if you played him? After gazing at him for at least 30 seconds without saying a word, you finally started to snap the fuck out of it. These were the consequences of your own actions y/n go and harden your imaginative heart again you thought. Finally coming back to reality after all you decided to do this in the first place. You then laughed “Oh my dear scribe,” you said sickly as you went in closer.
“I warned you the first time I’d shatter your heart into pieces.”
At that point, he understood that the own puppet had played him for a fool throughout the entire ordeal. “You had been anticipating this the whole time, hadn't you?” he retorted. Oh, you could see he was angry by his tone, no matter how hard he tried to cover it. You chuckled. “Bingo! You eventually put those skills to use, dear scribe!” Your words laced with poison as you applauded for him. He should have taken your word the first time. You chuckled as his teeth grinded together as he balled his hands into fists. “What exactly did I tell you throughout our meetings? God, you humans never pay attention.” you said and then left his life as quickly as you entered it.
notes; this is my first actual fic ever so i hope it’s good lmao, i haven’t published anything before either so i don’t rlly know how tf this apps works pls bare w me 🙏
52 notes · View notes
nirikeehan · 4 months
Note
For Thalia x Hawke - A steaming mug of something hot, pinned down and mirror sex. If you please <3
All riiiiiight I've resurrected this terribly mediocre ship for one night only!!
For @dadrunkwriting
WC: 2319
Rating: E for the smuts
---
The mug of mulled wine steamed on the table between them. Thalia watched the vapor rise off it as an excuse not to look at him. Hawke had his own mug in front of him, also untouched. The silence between them extended as the Gull and Lantern’s minstrel tuned his lute. His last song, about Scout Lace Harding, had been off key. 
Hawke cleared his throat. “So. You got my letter.” 
So she had, a couple days earlier. She’d been perfectly baffled by it. Inquisitor, it had read, I really enjoyed having a drink with you the last time we were together. Perhaps you’d like to have a drink again. I’ll be staying in Redcliffe village for the next week, if you’re available.
South Reach was only a day’s ride away on the Imperial Highway, so Thalia had saddled her horse and left Garlic with her sister-in-law that morning. Now at evenfall, Hawke sat before her, looking much the same as he had the last time she’d seen him: still too tall and too muscly, the unkempt beard and hair hiding an otherwise handsome face. She chewed her lip. Getting an answer to her question almost certainly hadn’t been worth the effort to come here. 
Thalia picked up the mug and took a sip of the hot wine, sweet with honey and strong with cloves. 
“Did we?” she asked. “Have a drink together last time?” 
She watched Hawke flush a deep red, almost as vibrant as that strange bit of war paint he always insisted upon smearing across his nose. A forty year old man, playing dress up. 
“I don’t seem to recall that part,” Thalia continued. 
Hawke cleared his throat, averting his gaze. “Yes, well. I don’t know. Spies could be anywhere. And it sounded less absurd than ‘I fondly think back on the night your mabari bit me.’” 
“You think back on that night fondly?” Thalia asked, bemusement only deepening. 
Hawke looked at her sharply. “You don’t?” 
Thalia frowned, now worried they might have two very different memories of the night in question. “I’d assumed you’d—” She glanced around the tavern, which was full enough that the din drowned out their conversation, but his mention of spies had spooked her. He kept the hood up on his cloak and her prosthetic arm was well-hidden in hers. Her hair was much shorter than it had been when she’d been traipsing through Redcliffe those years ago, long enough that everyday citizens rarely recognized her by sight. Still, the Champion of Kirkwall was technically a wanted man. She had a penchant for those, it seemed. “I’d assumed it was perhaps something you’d wished to forget.” 
She had, certainly. A dumb, impulsive thing she still couldn’t quite believe she had done while half-mad with grief. A knot of guilt formed in her ribcage when she thought about it for too long, especially while living in the cottage she’d shared with Cullen. 
Hawke leaned back in his seat, his expression difficult to read. She didn’t know him very well — that was the truth. One could read a great man’s biography, and still come away understanding little about him. Varric had told her all about the phenomenon, and the burden of being a chronicler of history. The lies he put in there, to protect his friend. The lies he put into All This Shit Is Weird, to protect her. 
“Why on earth would you think that?” Hawke asked, more startled than ever. 
Thalia was beginning to regret coming. “You said I reminded you of your sister!” 
“Once. When we first met. When you were young and in over your head with all that Inquisition business. Certainly not when we were—”
He broke off for modesty’s sake, but Thalia’s memory filled in the blanks. Fucking on my living room floor, she wanted to supply, but didn’t dare voice the words. She sipped her wine demurely. Hawke’s grip tightened on the edge of the table. He had evidently not expected resistance from her. Which made her wonder what he had expected. 
“Anyway,” he cut in again with a twitchy smile. He was less charming than Varric’s book made him out to be, that much she had learned when they’d first met on the battlements of Skyhold. He carried too much pain for that. To be known as a hero, only to have so few of your actions matter. Thalia felt a small bit of pity for him, suddenly. “I just thought it would be nice to see you, that’s all.” 
He wants to do it again, Thalia realized, her face flushing hot. He sent the letter on a whim, unsure if she would show up, but show up she did. It was far too late in the evening to turn around and go back to South Reach; she’d be riding all night. So she’d have to stay here and leave in the morning, no matter what. He’d already told her he was staying here, had a room upstairs. The more she thought about it, the less surprised she was. 
“Does Varric know about this?” Thalia demanded. 
“Why would he know?”
“I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure why the idea made her so queasy.
“Why would he care?” Hawke leaned forward, his bright brown eyes searching her face. “He’s not my father. Nor yours.” 
Thalia stared deep into her mug of wine so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
“If anything,” Hawke continued in a musing tone, “I think he’d approve. I think he’d want us to be happy.”
“Oh, being happy, is that you’d call this?” Thalia shot back. “And not just desperately, pathetically lonely?”
For such a large man, Hawke shrank with impressive volume when hurt. His eyes grew distant as he drained his mug in one grimacing gulp. He slammed it down on the table with enough force to rock it, and lurched to his feet. “I see I have been made the fool once more, Lady Inquisitor. Forgive me for thinking you held me in higher esteem than it appears you do.” 
Well, now you’ve done it. Regret flooded through her. “Hawke. Hawke, wait.” 
He paid no mind, shouldering through the crowd. 
Thalia let out a sigh, but resisted the urge to go after him. She nursed the rest of her drink, growing warmer and more morose with each sip. When she finished, the minstrel seemed determined to butcher Andraste’s Mabari, and Thalia stood. She thought about finding the innkeeper and renting her own room for the night, but the thought depressed her even more. 
She left the tap room and ventured up the stairs, searching for the room number Hawke had casually dropped at the beginning of their conversation. She found the correct one and knocked before her shame could kick in. 
After a few minutes the door opened. Hawke filled it with his massive frame and leaned against it, scowling down at her. His face and ends of his hair were damp; cheeks and nose were pink from where he must have just scrubbed off that ridiculous war paint. He looks better without it, Thalia thought, her stomach flopping. 
“Yeah? Can I help you?” His posture and tone were not kind. 
“I wanted to apologize,” Thalia said quickly. “I was terribly rude before.”
“You certainly were.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, biceps straining against the fabric of his tunic sleeve. 
She licked her lips. “Can I come in?”
His eyebrows shot upward. “What for?” 
Thalia felt herself blushing. She averted his gaze. “I’d rather not stand in a public space and argue with you, that’s all.” 
Hawke took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. “Right. It’d probably be all over the broadsheets by morning.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside. 
She stormed inside, and he closed the door with a firm click, leaning his weight against it. The Gull and Lantern had nice rooms: a wide featherbed with an embroidered cover dominated the room, and the stone walls were covered with oil paintings of the Ferelden elite. A full length mirror with a gilded frame stood in one corner, in front of which stood Hawke’s pack and belongings. But she didn’t come here to gawk at the decor. 
She turned to face him. Hawke stood before her, his expression stony. “Well? Have you come to keep throwing my feelings in my face, or do you wish to beg for forgiveness?”
Thalia swallowed thickly, her gaze straying to the bed. “Are those the only two options?”
---
“As I was trying to say,” Thalia said, straddling his naked waist, “it’s just that I don’t know you very well.”
Hawke’s hands gripped her hips as he helped her line up with his erection. He chuckled. “And you don’t think this counts as getting to know each other?” 
“I don’t know what this counts as.” She inhaled as they pressed against each other. It was both a relief and terribly annoying to feel him inside her again. She wriggled for purchase — he was sitting at the side of the bed, her in his lap, kneeling on either side of him — and let out a sigh. “Maker. Okay.” 
“Just okay?” He rolled his hips against hers and leaned in for a kiss. “I’d like it to be a little better than that.”
Thalia pressed her hand against his chest and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the feel of him. “It’s just— last time, ah—” She matched his slow rhythm and felt a nice little ache spreading from her pelvis. “It took us awhile.” 
“And that’s why you’re on top this time, yes?” He nipped at her ear. “I can be a quick study.”
“Be that as it may,” Thalia said, breath growing shallow, “This isn’t normally something I do, you understand.”
“And what is ‘this’?”
“Sex.” Thalia gasped as he grabbed her breasts and squeezed. “With near strangers!”
“I wouldn’t say we’re that. We saved the world together, remember?”
“Mm. I suppose.” His chest was warm and sculpted, beneath the thick hair that covered it. She ran her palm along its contours. She had always found the largeness of his body comforting. 
“Survived the Fade, side by side.” Another slow, purposeful thrust, as he stroked her nipples with his thumbs. This drew a little cry from her; he grunted in appreciation. “I admired your tenacity then.” 
“You didn’t say anything.” She tested out how it felt to slowly raise herself up and down on her knees, feeling the length of him. Good. Pretty good. She shuddered pleasantly. 
“You were busy. And young. Fuck, yes, just like that.”
“I’m still young,” Thalia reminded him, the thrill of the encouragement mixing with her ire. Cullen had never sworn when they made love. 
“Younger than now. And I was full of bitterness, grievances.” He adjusted her, tried a different angle. Better, she thought. Maker, I think I’m enjoying this. 
“Well, what a coincidence—” She gasped, grinding against him. “Now I’ve got those too.”
“So it works?”
“Maybe.” She was growing impatient. She shifted, and with better leverage, began to bounce harder and faster, abandoning pretense, her breaths coming in short gasps. 
“Bloody hell—” Hawke yelped. He leaned back, groaning. He fell flat on the bed, and Thalia gleefully straddled his waist and rode him, her breasts heaving. He cursed and muttered her name and pawed at her. “Fuck,” she said back, trying it out. Crude, but she liked it, if she allowed herself to, this messy copulation with a man she barely knew. She thought maybe she could bring them both to climax like this, call the deed done, but she slowed before they reached the tipping point, her knees betraying her. She sat back a little, her one good hand splayed on his panting stomach, hair obscuring her face, and tried to catch her breath.
“You’re real gaatlok when you get going, you know that?” Hawke demanded.  
Thalia bit her lip. “Thanks. I think.” She felt strangely shy all of a sudden, which was absurd because he was cupping her breasts and moving slowly inside her to get her going again. “Do you think — we can get there together this time?”
Hawke smirked. She didn’t see him smile much, and she had to admit the softening of his face made him more attractive. “We’re the Inquisitor and the Champion of Kirkwall. I believe in us.”
“I don’t think our previous accomplishments qualify us for this task.”
“Not with that attitude.”
She laughed, genuinely surprised at his humor. Garrett Hawke had always seemed so dour to her, preoccupied with the world and all its failings. Her laughter died, however, when he reached between her legs and found a certain spot with his thumb he had massaged last time on her living room floor. She gasped. “Oh, Maker….”
“Why don’t we try it?” he asked, putting some pressure there. Thalia bucked against him, causing them both to moan. 
“That isn’t fair,” Thalia whined, meeting his crescendoing pace, feeling herself losing more and more control. 
“Why? You think you’re the only one who can drive someone wild?”
Words were lost after that, lost to panting and grunting and epithets hissed through teeth. “Hawke,” she said, like an accusation; because that felt impersonal, she tried, “Garrett.” He returned the favor, saying her name fervently, like a prayer. 
Just as she felt herself about to slip over, she arched her back and threw her head back into the feeling. It was then she caught a full reflect of herself curled around him in the full length mirror. “Sweet Andraste!” she cried in horror. 
Hawke angled his head, amused. “So that’s what we look like.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice before. How unseemly.”
“You don’t think we look thrilling?”
“Certainly not!”
“Keep looking,” Hawke urged, and Thalia, too absorbed to disengage, obliged. 
She begrudgingly admitted it had a certain appeal, after. 
7 notes · View notes
argisthebulwark · 1 year
Note
I am fully convinced of two things: 1) tld and Sanguine one billion percent fucked during a night to remember, and 2) add Sanguine to the list of people who have fallen head over heels for tld cuz you can never convince me that after a night to remember he's not in love with us too.
YES they absolutely fucked so hard. It would be so funny if the Dragonborn had Main Character Syndrome in universe and everyone's just. in love with them because they're so brave and strong and cool. Including the Deadra. Even better if they don't realize the effect they're having on people.
(i wrote about it a little i hope that's ok. putting it under the cut to not clog the dash/because it's NSFW and minors should not interact.)
The Last Dragonborn simply moving from town to town, completing quests and helping people in the community and always accidentally leaving one person behind yearning for them. Whether it was something small like helping them rebuild a fence that fell during a bandit raid or literally watching them fight off a dragon with nothing more than a sword and the power of the Thu'um there's a string of lovesick people left in their wake.
But when it's a Deadra? When roses start suddenly appearing at the doorstep of their home and they feel a gaze they can't place watching them when they rest at a tavern? The Dragonborn isn't sure if they should be worried or excited about the idea of another drunken night with him.
He is unrecognizable in the skin of an attractive Dunmer man other than his pitch black eyes. He smirks and steals a deep drink from their mug of ale before making an unimpressed face and passing it back to them.
"I thought you were a wine drinker." He comments, resting a hand familiarly on their thigh. The Dragonborn shivers at the warmth of his touch when his fingers tease at the hem of their jerkin. He hadn't been so forward last time.
"I'm not picky." They respond, hoping it sounds nonchalant. They can feel Sanguine's intense stare when they take another drink of ale. He grins, leaning in close enough that the warmth of his breath sends shivers down their spine.
"Interested in another drinking contest?"
Their evening passes in a blur. The two escape the tavern, cool night leaving them flushed and suggesting their room at a local inn. Sanguine offering to take them back to the place where wine flowed like water while trailing kisses down their throat.
The Dragonborn wasn't sure how they ended up in that misty grove they'd visited for only a few minutes but was willing to ignore the mystery when Sanguine's wicked tongue left a trail of goosebumps up their chest. Finally in his own skin, his sharp nails graze wonderfully over their scalp where he grasps their hair, tilting the Dragonborn's head back to give himself full access to their body.
"I can't stop thinking about you." He mutters, groaning when the Dragonborn rolls their hips against his, fully straddling his lap. They can barely process his words through the sheer bliss at each of his touches - he thought of them since their last drunken meeting?
They cannot get enough of him. His kisses, his touches, the honeyed words falling from his lips to their overheated skin, the eager way his hips ground into theirs, all of it. They'd never felt such an all encompassing need before but felt like they'd burst if Sanguine didn't keep touching them.
"I've never needed a mortal so badly." He admits when the Dragonborn paws at the jagged armor covering his chest. "What have you done to me?"
"I've done nothing." They argue, eager to unbuckle the chest piece and see the muscles underneath. They intend to stretch out every moment they get with the Daedra, unsure when he would next reappear.
"Then why do I feel such need for you?" He whispers in their ear, tender tone of his voice completely at odds with cock they can feel throbbing under his armored pants. "Why do I feel something like love amidst this lust?"
38 notes · View notes
faofinn · 7 months
Text
7. “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick”
It was almost dawn when Harrison stumbled in, a mug of ale still in his grasp. Steve had been up waiting for him, but the older man had drifted off at some point. He was woken by Harrison’s clattering, and thought he ended up sprawled across the floor, his mug stayed full.
Steve startled awake, drawing his sword from under his jacket. The tip of the sword pulled cup from Harrison’s reach, much to his annoyance.
"Hey!" He snapped. "That's mine. I paid for it."
"I don't care." Steve replied, his tone harsh. "Get yourself up. I'm not dealing with you tonight. You can sleep in the back room, on that cot, you’re not staying in your bed."
"It's my room!"
"They're my chambers, Harrison. It’s close to dawn, you're only just turning up, and you're in such a state it's ridiculous. Get yourself up."
Harrison raised his head, scowling at him. "Give me my cup."
“No. Get yourself up and go to bed.”
For someone lying in the dirt and definitely in the wrong, Harrison had too much arrogance and defiance. "Not until you give me my ale."
“Absolutely not.”
He sat, swaying. "Then I'll stay here until you do."
Steve shrugged. “Alright then, I’ll see you later.”
"What?" Harrison frowned. That wasn’t how he'd expected it to go. "No, you have to give it back."
“I don’t have to give it back.” He countered.
"I bought it."
“And now you’re in my chambers.” Steve told him, picking up the drink.
Harrison lurched for it, a shout in protest. He'd been cut off several times over the evening, and it had been difficult enough to get the final mug. Of course, he could barely see straight, and his coordination was nonexistent.
Steve set the mug on the table, looking over at Harrison on the floor. “That’s enough of that. Get up.”
"Why are you being so mean?" His anger had fizzled into tears, the alcohol messing with his emotions.
“Look at you, you’re a state.” Steve said, his own anger difficult to control. “Right, come on. Let’s get you in the cot, and you can sleep.”
"Because you won't let me have a drink!"
“I think you’ve had enough now.” Steve said, offering him his hands.
Harrison pushed them away. "Drink first."
“No. I’m trying to help you.”
"This isn't helping!" He angrily rubbed the tears away.
“I know, I know. You’re just drunk.” Steve said, reaching out for him. “Come on.”
"I don't want to."
“But you need to.”
"No I don't. I need a drink."
“You’ve had more than enough.”
"How would you know?"
“You’re literally on the floor.”
"Yeah, well." He grumbled. "Give me a drink and I'll go to bed."
Rolling his eyes, Steve poured the ale out and filled the mug with the pitcher of fresh water he kept at hand. “Here’s a drink for you.”
Harrison’s jaw actually dropped. "Are you for real?"
“As real as I’m standing here in front of you.”
He staggered to his feet. "That's fucking…fucked."
Steve reached out to keep him upright. “Whatever you say.”
His lip curled. "Don't touch me."
“I’m trying to help.”
"Yeah, right. You've thrown my ale away, made me sit on the floor, and you had your sword at me." He gestured wildly as he spoke, trying to keep himself upright.
“You put yourself on the floor, and my sword never touched you.”
"I never said it did."
“Stop being overly dramatic and let me help you, unless you want to fall again.”
"I'm not the one being dramatic."
“Whatever you say. Let me help you to bed?”
"Haven't you done enough?"
Steve shrugged. “If you want to sleep on the cold floor then be my guest. But I thought you might be more comfortable in a bed.”
"I'm going back to the tavern."
“No you’re not.”
"You can't stop me."
“It’s my coin you’re spending, I absolutely can.” Steve said, wrapping an arm around him. “You’ll feel better for some rest.”
He jerked away, quickly overbalancing and grabbing towards Steve, his self preservation breaking through the alcoholic haze. "Help!"
“I’ve got you.” Steve reassured. “Let me help?”
"I don't need your help." He muttered to the floor, hanging his head.
“It’ll go quicker if I help.”
He rubbed his face, brushing a hand through his hair. "Alright."
“Thank you.” Steve said. He did most of the work, steering Harrison to the cot set up in the room. It would be somewhere for him to rest, where Steve could keep an eye on him. This wasn’t the first time he’d come home this drunk.
The room only seemed to spin more as Harrison lay down, and he groaned. "Steve."
“What is it?”
"'m gonna be sick."
There was a bucket nearby, and Steve passed it to Harrison. “Here. Try and get it in the bucket and not on the floor.”
His head buried in the bucket, his retort was lost to a groan, his stomach twisting and spasming. He retched as his whole body shook, his arm barely holding himself up.
Steve grimaced, glad he’d given him the bucket. At least that would hopefully make him feel better, once he’d finished.
Harrison fell back against the bed, sweat collecting on his brow. He rested the bucket on the floor, his hand still shaking.
Steve set aside his frustrations and moved to sit with him, offering him the water again. “Here, have some water.”
"Thank you." His voice was barely a whisper, a tiny smile pulling at the edge of his mouth.
“Have we got rid of that foul temper now?”
His cheeks were already flushed, but a blush tinged his ears. "I'm sorry."
“You really are horrid when you don’t feel well, you know that?”
5 notes · View notes
cixteenyne · 2 years
Text
Gone For good (2 - Aftermath)
I’m happy this was actually liked! enjoy!
Genre: Angst, Hurt-No Comfort
Prompt: Cheating (continued) Part 1
CELESTIA WELCOMES YOU, DIVINE ONE
Tumblr media
It was the type of shock of putting hours of dedication into an exam, just to fail. Nmh, this must be how Noelle felt, yes? 
Well it was fucking unbearable.
 For him, he didn't know how you were holding up. You avoided him at all costs, his cockiness told him that you'd break down at the sight of him, hating that you still loved him. It wasn't true, but he still kept hope.
When he found out you weren't coming back, he quickly put together as to why. It was Keaya after all. Ever the cunning. He didn't know you were still in Mondstat, thought you escaped him through Liyue, or the infamous Inazuma. The tavern became his best friend, but oddly enough, Diluc became scarce. He never spoke a word to Diluc, entering. Drinking. Spacing. Leaving. But never a word, a glance. Nothing, but he would act as if nothing happened if confronted.
He always acted as if nothing happened, as if he didn't just shatter your self esteem, your heart, what you thought were genuine ‘i love you’s. It enraged you. The type of rage of knowing that acceptance just wasn't an option any more, screaming your lungs out sounded better.
So that's what you did. You did it all the time, if your voice got meek from yelling, you'd wait it out, let it heal, and do it all again.
He would probably get so much sick ‘revenge’ out of knowing how much he was getting to you, that the thought of him could cause you to wear yourself out. So his earlier thought wasn't much of a lie, you would break at the sight of him, but not quite in sadness.
You woke up at the same time every night. 4:30AM. The time he would slip into bed, soundless. Cunning. Donning that coy smile he knew you would forgive. How agonizing.
It was because of this that walks became the norm for you. You'd get up. 4:30. Coat. house key. Shoes. Walk. repeat.
It helped, it really did. You'd say hi to vendors setting up shop in the race to set up early. You enjoyed it, it made you happy. Something you couldn't be ever since he did what he did.
Another stranger, wave.
 Blue eyed woman, wave. 
Blondie, nod. 
Sister Victoria, be respectful, nod, wave, fix that posture.
You'd always end up in the pathed woods, 5:44. A cycle. 
Walk. walk faster. Stranger, smile. 
You made a mistake, apologize. 
“Sorry, i wasn't looki-” 
“(name)”.
You felt that same frustration build up in your chest. It felt constricting. Uncomfortable. Really, it did.
You kept walking, walking, he just followed, followed. That stupid serene look on his face, that stupid “were friends” look. You weren't friends, far from it, you couldn't stand his voice, so you ignored him. Couldn't bear to see his face, that smile, so you kept your eyes on the ground.
Until he wouldn't allow it anymore. 
You were pretty much a long way from Mondstat by now. You knew that. 6:21. You didn't care. You just wanted him to go away. You haven't said a word to him since you bumped into him, couldn't he just take the hint,
 What's wrong with him? 
Why does he think he can just waltz into your life again?! 
JUST WHAT WAS HE TRYING TO PU-
“What's got you so worked up”
What.
What?
The question hit you like a brick wall, a smooth surface you couldn't grab or climb over, the frustration bubbled to your throat, 
it felt like hot metal stuck in your throat, but not hot enough to hurt, just enough to make you angrier
You didn't realize in your stupor that you asked that out loud.
So you continued just as he tried to.
“Wel-” 
“What’s-.got me work up?” you asked in an incredulous tone, genuinely stupefied.
“Are you fucking stupid?”
A silent lingered, tense and wary.
He looked at you, such a stupid unaffected look on his face.
“No, I'm not, i was just asking, because i ca-”
You didn't let him finish, he didn't deserve to finish that fucking sentence, he didn't deserve to just stroll up to you as if nothing was wrong.
“Don't fucking finish that sentence you absolute asshole, you don't get to say that you fucking care, you don't! You never did, if you cared so much about what happened to me, we'd still be together prick!” You were out of breath, breathing with so much anger, you didn't grieve anymore. you wouldn't. He didn't deserve your sadness, not even your anger, but you needed this, you couldn't afford to care right now.
He seemed startled, as if he hadn’t expected what you said, as if he expected you to cry and beg him not to do it again. Give him another chance, though, a part of him didn't want the chance, he knew he didn't deserve you. He knew. He just didn't want to admit he had lost you.
But at some point his attention was snapped to you as you began to hiss out with such hate he didn't know you were capable of.
“Or would you still be fucking donna like she's your wife?” You said it as if he were a guilty criminal, which in a sense, he was, he absolutely was. But he also had to think.
Would he?
When he was dating you he had a mindset of ‘knowing he would not get caught”...’wrapped around his finger’, so, if that dating were still going on….- he was frozen as he admitted to himself that-
He would.
You seemed to register his silence as a yes, and no matter how much you hated him, you knew there was a time where his love was real, so genuine, so pure. So wanting.
You hadn't even noticed you began to cry, no sounds, just tears, anger, and realization
The realization that you just weren't ok with letting him go, but hated him to the very core. How could you let go of so many memories, even if for him it was just pretend, for you it was real, so real that you let it get bad, so real that you would sit and let him play house with you for a little longer. And it was a time too long, because now look where you are.
He had hugged you some seconds ago, you wanted to pull away, but you needed this just as much, even if he knew he could never have you again, he could at least have this, this is the least he could have before you left him, forever to be someone else's. gone.
Gone for good.
144 notes · View notes
poisonouswritings · 2 years
Note
Hello!
May I request a M3 with an MC who's like a god/goddess? Could literally be the deity of anything T-T idk like spring or the sun if you need any ideas.
Tysmmmmsndhhdbd
GN!Reader, can't believe FTLOG leaked over into this blog (not literally), this seemed funnier if everyone is together, Colored Bullet Rule (Felix, Anisa, Sage) making one (1) horny comment
My horny comment is that I think all of the Starsworn have some level of worship kink and it's only exacerbated by you being a diety and I could write a whole smut thing off this but I won't!!
yet
Anyways what do you want to be the diety of, dear friend? Let's assume whatever you pick gives you a basic level of magic. I'll by going through a couple different options that I think would have fun dynamics but I'll have a few general ones too.
Firstly imagine,, when Felix summons you,, and instead of being spat out of the Void like you were, you land gracefully on your feet, already (somewhat) used to teleportation. And Felix is half unconscious because he really drained his magic trying to find Rime. You go over to him. Maybe you heal him? Maybe you just go to poke his face a little to see if he's dead. Anyways in his delirious mind he does think you're a diety - not because he senses your power or anything but Pretty Person With Lights Behind Them (the lights being his own magic still swirling through the room) and then he fucking passes out.
You meet Anisa! She puts her sword at your throat and you casually just bat it away because It's Not Like A Mortal Can Kill You Anyways. And Anisa is confused and she does it again and you just bat it away,,, this happens like five more times before she realizes that you Clearly Are Not An Assassin Sent To Kill Her, since you would have done so already if you're really that nonplussed by her sword.
When that thug is coming towards you in the tavern you're kinda just staring because Oh What Does This Mortal Want? :) And then Sage comes to help you and it's like Oh The Mortals Are Fighting! I Never Get To Be Up Close Like This It's So Fun! :) And then in the hallway Sage is hiding you from those guys and you're just peeking a little like Wow Mortals Sure Are Funny :)
Just think it's really funny if they way everyone finds out is very casual cause like,, why wouldn't it be? You've been a diety for, presumably, a long time. It's not new to you.
Felix is talking about how gods are really just puffed-up spirits and you're like Hey!! Fuck You!!!! I Rule Over Spirits!!!!!! And he's like 'MC darling what in the world are you talking about??' and you reveal you're like, the diety of the Underworld or Death or whatever and you summon this massive glowy scythe and Felix is just,,,,, not okay,,,,,,,,,,,
Anisa, Saaros and you are stuck beneath the cultist temple. You let out this really annoyed sigh as you poke around 'I cannot believe anyone would allow their temple to look this dilapidated. My temple would never look like this because my priestess is component at her job. Oh I hope she remembered to feed the cats while I'm away....' and Anisa and Saaros wonder if you hit your head until you just use a spell to make a bunch of plants grow like 'oh this'll get fresh air in here!' because you're the diety of nature or whatever
When Elowen corners you guys in Mournfall but then there's a crowd and she leaves and Sage is about to go after her but you stop him,, you calm him down almost immediately,,,, and you're rubbing his shoulder like 'woah there little hellcat, I admire your desire for bloodshed but don't do me any favors, I can get my worship later' and after (at the bar) he's like 'wtf were you saying?' and you just grin and use your magic to fuck with these two dudes (gender neutral) at the bar and make them get into a fight and it's like Oh I'm The Diety of War :) Did I Not Mention? :) Seeing People Fight Is Fun :) and Sage is just choking on his beer
You keep impulsively taking things from the marketplace because you're used to being given tribute/gifts and the Starsworn have to pay for you all the time
There are,, a lot of dieties,,, that can turn into animals,,,,, you morph into something small and ride on your partner's shoulder
Someone bumps into you and doesn't apologize and you're summoning your holy weapon to smite them before the Starsworn drag you back and calm you down
Scylla is gonna ask if you have like,, holy alcohol or whatever,,,, as a matter of fact so will Sage
Tulsi wants to see your weapon!! Can she play with it test it out? It's looking kinda worn, you must not have used it in a while. Can she sharpen it? She just wants to mess with it and try to see how it works
If you have any type of future sight then you and Azimuth compare notes on what will happen and how to avoid it
Imagine,,, you're a diety,,,,, you've been chilling on Earth for 200 years or something,,,,,,, LoS assumes you're a normal human from Earth and then you fucking blast him in the face with magic like No The Fuck I Am Not!! Suck It!!!
Last Legacy/PJO crossover??
140 notes · View notes
fiendpact · 4 months
Note
i finally finished bg3 for the first time and am now wondering what your thoughts are on the ending/epilogue.
i kind of got lucky because i romanced gale (which gave him and my tav exactly the ending i was hoping for) and my tav's best friends were wyll and karlach so their joint epilogue ending was cool as well. but beyond that, i feel a little empty :( i could say lae'zel also kind of got closure for me, but astarion just had to run off screaming because the sun hurts him now and the others didn't even say anything. the moment before you head out for battle where all your allies say one last thing about you honestly felt more emotional to me than the moment you last see your companions.
i think a little celebration at the end where you could talk to the characters one last time would be cool but i wish we at least got DAI-style narration over pictures, just to know how everyone is doing (and i feel like that wouldn't be too hard to make?). it's like i got ripped out of the story at its storm-like climax and not at the "clouds parted, sun out: we get to finally go to sleep without worries" ending i'm used to in pretty much all media. idk if it's just me though.
NO IT IS NOT JUST YOU…. man i had so much to say abt this when i first beat the game but apparently i put it NOWHERE except into my best friend’s brain. so lemme see what i can say.
i also got the karlach and wyll in avernus ending and i rly liked it, that felt like a solid ending. nicely wrapped up their quest lines. but that was rly it?? nothing happened with shadowheart, the only thing i remember is her commenting that we’d be seen as heroes in baldur’s gate if we stayed. i had to convince lae’zel not to run off on me because i didn’t free orpheus, and i was mostly satisfied with that bc it seems like it opened her up to truly find her own path in life. i fucked up gale’s bc i didn’t really process the mystra deal so i told him to leave that damn crown in the water, and he kinda went “i guess that’s for the best” and that was like, the end of it.
so chronologically i ‘finished’ gale, lae’zel, and shadowheart, and then i got the astarion scene where he runs off because of the sun before karlach and wyll’s final scene. my literal love interest was in so much sudden pain that he had to flee the scene, and i didn’t get a single dialogue option to respond with? nothing but one companion making a smart mouthed and/or indifferent comment? and i couldn’t go after him bc that was immediately followed up by karlach’s final scene (which only had wyll and halsin present, for some reason). yeah you could say i was unhappy LMAO and that’s not even to mention his actual epilogue which - spoilers - is maybe two minutes of dialogue in an unknown location that doesn’t even discuss his hasty exit and feels barely more than a chat between friends. and now even THAT’S bugged 😭
anyway i think you’re so so right, i absolutely think we needed a final companion get together like in dai. they literally in the end dialogues talk about going to a tavern or something and i think had we gotten that instead of the disjointed scene on the shoreline it could’ve felt more conclusive and satisfying, bc it did feel very abrupt overall
also i think there was actually meant to be epilogue slides at some point? that could be a rumor though idk but that would’ve been nice too bc as it stands the only companions that i have any knowledge about post-game are astarion, wyll, and karlach. three out of nine people i had recruited. it’s weird! it’s disappointing! i came out of my first time beating the game mostly underwhelmed because act three felt so messy to get through and there wasn’t much of a payoff. i definitely see why so many people don’t finish act three…
anyway i’m typing all this in a car rn so i hope it makes sense but tldr you are not alone!! the ending/epilogue was largely unsatisfying for me as well 😔
5 notes · View notes
awritingcaitlin · 1 year
Text
💥Find the Word💥
Thank you @juls-writes for the tag!
My words are drape, empty, care, lips, and sideways
Snippets will be under the cut from Cure for the Queen!
But first, tagging @legiomiam, @samplewriting, @muddshadow, @mr-writes, and @saphoblin for the words: flicker, work, back, know, afternoon
Here we go!
💤DRAPE(D)💤
Rinnie’s eyes flickered open and she recognized that she was still on the tiny bed next to Killian. His arm draped lazily over her and she welcomed the comforting weight. Since her back was to him, she couldn’t see if he was awake or not, but his breathing was steady and she thought that perhaps he was still asleep.
“You’ve barely been asleep five hours,” Killian murmured. “Perhaps you should try to doze back off?”
There was stray bits of light coming through the windows in the train car though.
“I should check on the patients,” Rinnie said.
“Mica’s been on it,” Killian replied.
Rinnie tried to come up with another excuse. But also it was warm next to him.
“I don’t think I can sleep any longer,” she mused. Though she did not move. “It was nice to get some sleep though.”
.
🍻EMPTY🍻
“Some sort of tavern,” Killian said. “That will work.”
They walked over and Adler was almost concerned that they wouldn’t be let in at the hour, but the proprietor seemed eager enough to get some last-minute business. Killian set Mica and Riela to grabbing the drink orders while everyone else went to the top floor balcony.
Given the hour, the balcony was empty.
Adler breathed a sigh of relief. “Not sure what we would have done if there were people up here,” he said. “We’re about to pull out guns and look incredibly suspicious.”
“I have nice tits,” Rinnie said. “I would have made it not a problem.”
.
📞CARE📞
“So back to you calling this client,” Killian said. “Why does he care so much about getting you into Himmelmauer?”
“Because he wants me on some secret project of his that he never told me what it was about. And even if he has found a passible replacement, he sought me out specifically in the beginning, so he’d make room on the team for me if I so much as expressed interest.”
Killian cocked his head to one side. “You would put yourself on an unspecified mission team just to get us into Himmelmauer? When did you get so selfless?”
Rinnie snorted. “Please. I can talk circles around him in my sleep. I just need to tell him I’ll consider his offer more seriously if he helps me and my friends into the city without a fuss.”
.
💋LIPS💋
Rinnie pursed her lips. “I don’t think so. Knowing what I know happened in Berthingtonn, I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.”
“Plus, it’s not like us giving accounts of the Nidtrins is going to reveal to them stuff they don’t already know,” Riela said. “They’ll just burn the information so no one else sees it.”
“My desire to get this written is fighting with the knowledge that I need to make this legible to people other than me,” Rinnie said.
Kanjo chuckled.
“Poor time to make a doctor comment?” Killian asked.
“You can’t make one that I haven’t heard before,” Rinnie replied. “Especially when it comes to handwriting. Yes, I have my MD, I even have a doctorate outside the medical field. I have earned my messy handwriting but I’m also a politician…”
.
💥SIDEWAYS💥
“You all have conditional liberty this afternoon,” Killian said. “For those of you who live in Himmelmauer, go see your families and tell them to maybe skip town for the next couple of weeks.”
“Wait, what the fuck?” Rinnie muttered.
“If the house politics go sideways,” Aravae said coming up behind them. “This could very well be the start of Civil War.”
“You sound so calm about that,” Ciara tutted.
9 notes · View notes
shi-daisy · 2 months
Note
Hello! Just wanted to drop by and say I love your ACOTAR fic you've fixed so much of what I hated in the series and made Rhysand actually be the villain it's so healing to see.
Small question, what is your stance on Elain? Given what happens at the end of Threads & Daisies I'm inclined to think you dislike her but can you tell me why? I'm very curious, also where do you stand on the Gwyinriel/Elriel/Elucien drama? Is it the same as in your fic or do you multiship?
Hi anon! Happy to hear you like my fic! So, Elain...Unpopular opinion but I cannot for the life of me stand Elain, and I am an anti E/lucien and pro Lucien. Yes we exist.
Elain is very surface level as a character, unlike Nesta who had a distinct personality from the start, Elain is the 'kind girly one' which is not a bad personality to have but all through the books we are only told she's kind, what we see however makes her come across as two faced and using her crocodile tears and cuteness to get her way.
Okay so to start I didn't care much for Feyre's sisters in book 1 until she came back and had her scenes with Nesta in Acotar (which SJM seems dead set on ignoring) Nesta had a nice reconciliation moment with her but Elain didn't. In fact she seemed mad that Nesta was morose beacuse it could affect her social circle which...Babe what? I get you just got back the life you missed and wanted but for someone who's supposed to be the kind uwu baby one you seem to care little of your sister's feelings.
But whatever that's fine, Feyre is going back to Prythian, there are more books, so I held out hope that Elain would get her moment. In books 2 and 3 I felt bad that she lost out on her dream life and a good husband and everything she wanted. She gets mated and is scared about that, she gets put through a lot of danger, naturally she gets traumatized and yes she deserved healing and care but then came book 4 and I went from Elain neutral/sympathetic to wanting to drop kick her.
So she's better, not fully healed but getting there however the one falling apart now is Nesta. Does she try to help? Does she tell Nesta she's there for her while giving her space? Does she defend the sister that stood by her as she fell apart catatonic? Fuck no! Girl does nothing to help and it's pretty telling. Like obviously you can't fix a person so easily but just try to be there for her, deal with a few card games at the tavern and just sit by her side, show her you care, but no. Place is icky so no ball.
Fine, how the romance going? She's still missing Graysen so no romance for now. Okay that's fine, so does she say that to Lucien when he comes to visit? Does she tell him 'Hey you seem like a nice fella but this isn't what I want or need right now, so please don't come see me until I ask?' Once again, fuck no. She ignores him like a five year old and Feyre is the one who has to talk to Lucien.
I want to leave it clear that yes, Elain owes him nothing cuz they're mates. She didn't ask for this, she had her fiance and life set out before being forcefully turned, she isn't faeborn and cares nothing for mating bonds, and she has every right to not like Lucien and turn him down. The problem I have it's that she doesn't have the ovaries to speak clearly to him. Fucking take the L and tell him no. Turn him down properly and unlike the Incel bats, Lucien would actually respect her wishes. He has done so before! So why not be honest with him now?
Hell, after the party when Feyre tries to talk to her about Lucien, she says he doesn't know her, that he only likes her cuz bond. Again, valid reason to say no thx and break it off or put it on hold if she's not sure of what to do. Welp, Feyre tells her this exactly, that you know he's trying and she could just explain herself to him but girl just whines that she wants no bond or any of this. Okay, then say it! Don't act like a toddler and tell Lucien to fuck off! She doesn't.
Then comes book 5 and my hate grew. Elain stabs Nesta in the back by siding with the others, crosses her boundaries by trying to pry info out of her and mentioning their dad (along with subtly slut shaming her) and when Nesta snaps back she cries and pouts and uses her tears to fuck shit up some more. During the party she has the gall to go and tell her still depressed recovering sister 'Did you get paid to attend this one too?' And at this point I wanted to throw hands with her myself. Bitch do you want her to recover or not? This woman is being mistreated by everyone around her and you the person who's back she's had this whole series decides to pile on as well?! Nesta is only being used to protect you from being the one tossed around with the troves and at this point I wanted her to choke Elain out and let the ic use her instead.
After this, I've lost hope. If she ends up with Luce he'll have to grovel for her, maybe even cut Tamlin off (if he does I'm jumping off the Lucien train cuz broooo totally not worth it) and he will have to give up everything else to be with her and the idiots, and be the man she wants. I sure as hell don't want that for Lucien. I'd rather he gets a partner who loves and sees him for who he is and still wants him rather than having these two forced together cuz bond.
Same thing with Gwyn, I want her to be more than a second option to the dude who would take his anger out on her if she's a Vanserra or just ignore her up until the bonds snaps and they have kinky sex as therapy.
That's why I prefer Elain and Azriel together. They have the set up, they don't drag better characters down with them in other ships, they're both surface level, and it'd be fun to see a story where the characters end up with people they're not mated to. Feels more earned that way, plus it would piss Rhysand off to be wrong and that's always a plus.
As it stands I really dislike Elain and that's why she ended up getting tossed into the black hole with the others at the end of Threads & Daisies. Maybe her solo book could fix her, and make me change my mind but as it stands I don't see myself liking her canon version again.
Hope this answers your question, anon!
1 note · View note
wispstalk · 2 years
Text
theft
(a silly discussion about daedric princes. cw: mildly nsfw text, reference to cannibalism)
Tanis and Coradri pass through the great hall, sweaty from their morning sparring session and deeply embroiled in conversation.
“—ripping off some kind of god or something, right?” Coradri is saying. “You can’t lie to save your life.” 
“Some kind of god,” scoffs the Hero of Kvatch. “We’ve been living at the temple how long, and— for fuck's sake, do you even know why we’re here?” 
“I’m just along for the wagon-ride, shorem.” Coradri punches his arm. “That’s exactly my point.” 
Martin closes the Xarxes and pushes it aside. “What are you two doing now?” 
“We’re arguing,” Coradri says cheerfully. “Irathi thinks he ought to go after the artifact himself, and I say he’s fucking dented. Maybe you can help us settle this, Brother.” 
Martin tents his fingers over his mouth, looking between the two of them. Tanis can certainly lounge, and the Sanguinites do a lot of that, but it’s hard to imagine him… frolicking. Reveling. For him, “cutting loose” likely means a good tavern brawl. Not the sort. Coradri, on the other hand: she plays the wide-eyed innocent when it suits her, but there is no missing the deviousness in her grin.
“It would be ideal if both of you could look out for each other,” he says carefully, “but that’s likely to raise some eyebrows. I’d have to choose Coradri.” 
“Guarshit.” Tanis folds his arms. “Why.” 
“Well, you’re… You’re a bit…” Martin circles a vague hand through the air.
"Spit it out, priest. I'm a bit what?" The Dunmer gives him a dead-eyed scowl, as if that itself doesn't put paid to the notion.
“The Daedra lords don’t take kindly to theft," he says instead. "It’s essential that our ruse is convincing.” 
“I like drugs and drink and fucking just as much as anyone,” Tanis says indignantly. 
“For gods’ sake, that’s not— I’ve said and said, you cannot touch anything they give you. Or anyone.” He tries not to make this sound petulant. “Only your own offering.” 
“Yes, yes, we heard you the first time,” Coradri says, exasperated. “I’ve got Emberbrand wine from our visit to Cheydinhal. That’s a real knee-walking drunk, Sanguine ought to like it.” 
“You mean I’ve got Emberbrand wine,” Tanis grumbles, “and it happens I like it.” 
“No one likes that gutrot, it tastes like lye and wet dog. The only thing you like about it is that you’re holding something the city watch will tackle you for.”
“Ha! True. You still can’t have it.” 
Martin suppresses a grin. She’s likely hidden it from him already. He sifts through the pile of books on his desk, looking for Modern Heretics. 
“I only suggested Sanguine because I can give you some idea of what to expect. Somewhere in here— ah. This one details the location of a few shrines, including Azura’s. Of all the Princes, she is least likely to involve you in something unsavory.”
“First of all, stop foisting books on me,” Tanis says, waving it away. “Second, if I got my hands on Azura’s Star, I sure as hell wouldn’t give it to you.” 
“Tanis!” Martin laughs. “With all the mortal realm at stake, really?” 
“Fuck the realm. You know what it costs to get your weapons recharged?” 
Martin scratches Nocturnal off his mental list, in that case. If Coradri gets hold of the Skeleton Key, he won’t see that either, to say nothing of the havoc she would unleash all over Tamriel. He won't be responsible for that.
“I know where Namira’s shrine is— Irathi, give me your map.” She squints at it, then points a little distance from Bruma, perhaps three hours’ walk. “In the mountains near here.” 
“And how do you know this?” Tanis says, squinting at her. 
“Walking around! There’s fuck-all else to do here. Anyway, the priestess said I was too pretty and charming to be let in— shut up, Irathi, she really did. Everyone there was hatchet-faced and mean. You could definitely take care of that one.” 
“Thanks.” He flicks the side of her head. “You know some of her followers eat human flesh? I’ve smelt burning bodies before and it’s… well, I’m fond of pork, let’s just say that. Best not to find out.” 
Martin shudders. “Namira’s out of the question. What about Meridia?” 
“What kind of things does she have?” Coradri says. That’s just lovely, Martin thinks, now I’ve piqued their curiosity about the artifacts they could acquire, the one I’ll have to destroy. 
He flips through Modern Heretics. “The Ring of Khajiti, but that one is rumored to be in possession of a famous jewel thief. And there’s Dawnbreaker.” 
“Dawnbreaker. Heard of it. Ebony sword, burns with some holy light, destroys the undead in a single blow?” Tanis shakes his head. “Yeah, you can’t have that one, either.”  
“Stealing from Mehrunes Dagon would be pretty funny,” Coradri puts in. “You know, given the whole mess we’re in.” 
“It would,” Martin is forced to admit. “Also most likely to end badly. And destroying it could create some kind of interference with the Xarxes, which will obviously be a problem.” 
One of the weaker princes: Peryite? Gross, says Tanis, and throws out Sheogorath's name. Please don’t, pleads Martin; that’s the last thing he needs in his Xarxes-addled state. Sending either one of these inveterate gamblers to Clavicus Vile seems unwise, and briefly he considers Hermaeus Mora — but no, now he’s beginning to sympathize with Tanis’s stingy dismissals. Any of the Black Books would be hard to give up. 
Coradri watches this debate with detached interest. These all-powerful immortals are just names to her, high-value theft targets. He still laughs when he recalls mentioning the ascension of Talos one night. Coradri cocked her head and asked, “Who?” Who indeed.
Mephala, Molag Bal, Boethiah, Vaermina, Malacath: all too bloodthirsty for Martin's taste. Tanis spends a hair too long considering Hircine, and Martin puts his foot down. He can already hear the argument upon Tanis’s return: It’s fine, piss off, I don’t need a cure, being a werewolf’s actually pretty class. 
“So we’ve gotten nowhere, then,” Tanis concludes. “Sanguine’s the most practical option, that’s clear.”
“And Brother Martin says I should do it,” Coradri says primly. 
“I don’t have to listen to him if I don’t want to.” Tanis fishes in his pocket and produces a gold septim. “Flip you for it. Three times.” 
“I call Martins.” 
“For gods’ sake. It’s not me on that coin, you know, and don't you think the stakes are a bit high to be settling this with—"
“Shut up,” they both say in unison, and they flip for it. Coradri wins. “Always bet on Brother Martin,” she says, elbowing her scowling companion in the side.
20 notes · View notes