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finiansghost · 2 years

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'Shoulder blade' - Fian/Sabha, Summerchild era

Third of three bingo fics.

1577 words. Warnings for (oh heck here we go): off-page torture and abuse of power, not dreadfully graphic (I don't think it gets any worse than the first line); rather a lot of self-loathing, the absolute incomprehensibility of hope, the long shadow of childhood trauma; if Fian admitted he was self-medicating he'd have to admit to needing it; being a healer in a Frost-kingdom is ethically challenging; Iestyn is still alive (for another, like 14 hours at most) and he is his own warning (he is off-page but this is Fian's point of view and Fian's mind is not entirely his own).

Also it makes what's coming next in Summerchild worse.

But on the upside Sabha the trainee chronic pain and mystery ailment specialist makes everything better, sometimes literally, and it's at least kind of bittersweet. The dove is perhaps not entirely dead but is missing a few feathers; I still wouldn't suggest you eat it.

The echo of Kellan's dying agony still lingers down his spine, burns if he breathes too deep.

So does the way no-one in the warband would meet his eye, and the lass from the Averdeary garrison he'd been casually flirting with flinched. He walked away wanting nothing more than to drink until he forgot what it was they were afraid of.

Three days and it hasn't worked yet.

This is nothing he planned, nothing he would have dared hope for, nothing wise. Old Medwyn's fiercely protective of his 'prentice, for all she's long years grown, gave her oath to Finian before the end.

He remembers that, because he remembers her trying to help. Little slip of a thing then, but she already knew more than most full-fledged healers about the kind of pain that was gnawing at the old king in his last days. A reckoning come due, Finian called it; bitter and laughing.

Another reckoning's riding on the wind through the dead reeds, ash and salt and the beating of wings in darkness; Iestyn's, or Trick's, or maybe just his own. Hasn't managed to drown that knowing, either. Yet.

And now Sabha - strong and skilled and respected by anyone with any merç-cursed sense, bowed perhaps a little by pain no amount of skill can vanquish, but not at all by any other cause - is looking at him with curiosity, even interest. Not horror at the twisting of a healer's art, and the gentle understanding in her eyes is more intoxicating than the drink.

The clan-house shadows drink up his lantern's light; Mairi's not waiting up tonight. Mairi also doesn't tolerate clutter left in the aisle; they make it back to his little room without incident, and without waking anyone sleeping by the banked fire.

The wards come up as he stirs up the coals in his little brazier, and she doesn't ask. The same way she didn't ask what the herbs in his brandy were, nor why; but this is firmer ground than kindnesses he ought not to permit and so chooses not to see.

"The rest of the house prefers not to share my nightmares," he murmurs. Feels her register that more professionally than personally. "Among other things," he tacks on, and maybe he has to reach a little to find warmth to put in his voice, but he finds it all the same.

Enough to make her blush, anyway.

She's shy, when he kisses her, but not hesitant; she doesn't flinch. He does, when she wraps her free arm around him, hand in the small of his back, and that gets the healer-focus again.

"Are you - aware you're in pain?"

He's not sure he'd call it pain as such; it's just a ghost. (A ghost that Iestyn's been poking at. Cold hands. Just enough touch to give the phantom sensation life. Between the isolation of the wards and the numbness of drink he can think that thought, and know it's deliberate. Doesn't mean he wants to think it.)

"So are you." It's mostly a guess; he's about as closed-off and numb as he's ever managed to be, he can't actually feel it, but it's a fair bet. She looks more worn in the candlelight than she did in the hall.

"No more than normal;" she makes a vague gesture with the stick. "Nothing to be done for it; my foot just wants to ache. Let me see?"

"So long as you sit down first," he parries, not really expecting it to distract her; she has the kind of focus that would make him wary in a swordsman.

There's nothing to see; only the ghost of someone else's hurt, but it can do no harm. She lets him help her out of her cloak, props her stick in the corner by his spear; accepts his offered arm to climb up and sit on the end of his bed, good leg tucked under her and back against the bed-cabinet frame.

At least it's not entirely the healer's clinical gaze watching him strip off cloak and coat, tunic and undershirt, and that's its own kind of - not quite reassurance, but kin or cousin to it. He knows the story his scars tell, and she has the skill to read it; as reactions go, curiosity and challenged craft are hardly the worst of all possible worlds.

No amount of flippant thought makes it easy to sit beside her on the bed and twist so she can touch, and that's a skittishness he thought he was long past. Her hands on his back are not at all like Iestyn's - warm, her touch firm, movements deliberate, and that helps. The trickle of power - precise, controlled, unmistakable - is a surprise. There's nothing to be done.

"What are you -" he lets the question hang unfinished.

"Whoever taught you healing needs a kick up the arse," she says, a little tartly, and he answers without thinking.

"Nobody taught me." Maghister Evran, and Greymere's bitter cold dawn, incidental demonstration perhaps but nothing he was ever supposed to learn from. Or at least, not learn that. Not what she means.

"Perhaps we won't get into that now," she says, and there's something... strange in her voice. "It's - this is - as if a part of you thinks the wounds you healed were something that happened to you."

He can't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I wouldn't call that healing."

She snorts. "I'd call the work of keeping someone alive healing, no matter what end it's turned to. You think I don't know that some of Medwyn's midnight calls are no mercy to the ones he's called for?"

Fian hadn't known that himself, but - it makes sense. Echoes of Greymere again. Nothing of mercy there, not maghister Evran the healer, not in any of them.

Certainly not in maghistra Lindy, sick sour heat of memory rising unwanted -

- her index finger is on his collar-bone, over the scar.

"This didn't put you off sharp-toothed Gaudies?"

It isn't obvious. It mostly looks like a burn-scar. Because it mostly is. But it's obvious to her. As long as he manages to not to think about it, he won't have to realise what that means.

"Lot of power there." Very neutral. "Or persistence. You want to be careful with woodsies."

Not that he had a lot of choice in the matter.

The other thought creeps in around the edges while he's carefully not saying that. "You didn't really need rescuing, did you."

When he turns so he can see her, it's half hunted reflex; her smile's a little rueful, and her teeth seem entirely normal. "I panicked. And I certainly didn't have a… diplomatic exit plan. But - Medwyn wouldn't have agreed to teach me if I couldn't protect myself." She shifts her fingers on his back, and he can't help but tense again.

"Easy. I'm not gonna bite you," she says quietly. "I'm not that woodsy. The only thing I generally go a'stalking of is mystery pains and baffling ailments. Much less walking involved. Also much less sleeping on the ground and waking up with angry joints." There's a pattern in the movement of her hands, in the flow of power, a rhythm to it, not steady but consistent, calm -

- and then he's blinking, from a sharp stab that had nothing of pain in it, and she's asking, "is that any better?"

She's still touching, hands flat on his shoulder-blades, but now it's just touch, secondhand pain-shadows banished - "how did you do that?"

"Oh, technically, realigning the disjunct flow between the present and the pretergenetic selfnesses," a little chuckle, "but it wouldn't be untrue to say the problem was a small and elusive target, and I am very precise."

Of course she is. So's Eamonn, so's Danny, so was Lindy, each in their separate field. He doesn't quite manage not to twitch when she leans in and kisses scar-tissue over his spine.

She pulls back. Sighs. "I didn't realise you didn't know. I'm not going to be offended if you change your mind."

Gentle. Sincere. Maybe she could be a monster if she wanted to be. He already is.

And whatever these stirrings of fate, whatever doom rides the wind, waiting its hour - it can wait awhile longer. Tonight - whether it's luck's fickle grace or mercy's hand, cursed if he won't take the chance. "And if I haven't changed my mind?"

She smiles. Blushes a little. Doesn't show her teeth. "You might give me a hand with these buttons."

Dress-buttons and belt-knots, kirtle-laces and boot-laces, garter-knots and giggles. These four walls and these dark hours carve out a space where tenderness can be real, where scarred hands can be gentle on soft flesh and unmarred skin. More patience than he thinks she expected, here where patience can be other than cruel, to drink down life's small joys to the last drop and savour each sip. Here and now is all that matters; the dawn will come soon enough.

There's a saying, a desperate whisper, a plea to mercy for better days. Words he's heard, and carefully forgotten when or from whom; words he daren't let himself think, even in the darkness of his own mind and the quiet of a warded room. But let tomorrow's hopes lie with tomorrow's fears; tonight has its pleasures, and that is enough.

More than enough; tonight is all there is.

#writing #origfic #summerchild #flashfic #fic bingo #i said Fian had come a long way in Grace #this is more or less where he was coming from #sabha is seriously really good at complex medical work #this will unfortunately be relevant

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fire-lizard-ro · 4 months

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Ohoho Sunday thoughts you say? >:D this is loosely based on the prior ask? But I was just thinking how Sunday would probably try (keyword try) to remain pure and abstain from s*x before marriage, yknow? But when he finally does have you as his own, all bets are off. Angel boi is horny and wants you :( in his mind: it’s pure and simple yet beautiful lovemaking between two souls :( and in my love deprived ass I would melt because I know he’d be big on giving and receiving praise fjgjgjgj even would enjoy the idea of extending the Family if you were down for it (whether or not you could, he enjoys the idea of it) ((also he likes control so))

And don’t get me staarttteddd on his sweet aftercare and pillow talk D: oml you’d quite literally be on cloud nine!! He is too tho :) and he cannot help himself from just being so sweet and genuine orz

ohhHHHHH- Y e s I like this quite a bit. Need this to take a break from the angst I’ve been cookin up with a certain someone (you know who you are OTL).

Fair warning y’all are gonna end up seeing me write a fic about him that is blatantly blasphemous with religious themes (pretends like I’m not already working on one like that with Argenti).

Anyways- Back to this.

Thank you so much for the ask~ I love Sunday so much. <333333

CW: possessive behavior, cumming inside, fluff!!! (crazy I know how very almost off brand of me-), maybe some blasphemous thoughts? (idk that they count with aeons but hey-), marking, breeding kink (he’s saying it regardless of whether you are able to have children or not bc regardless it’s h o t -), praise

Reader gender: gender neutral (I tried not to say anything that would be too telling about what sex the reader is so please read it as such! I don’t think I said anything that was like that-)

So going off the last ask, we’re going to assume that he likes you enough to feel great affection for you. Enough to want you. To feel his own carnal desires rear their head even before you’ve married. It manifests in his seemingly innocent yet wandering hands. A hand on your waist as he passes by you. His hands drifting dangerously low when you hug. Leaning in close to talk to you. Lips making their way down from your forehead to your cheek to the corner of your lips. The placement of his kiss making its way to your lips slowly with every goodbye kiss.

But at some point, he can’t really stop himself from at least using those pretty hands of his on you- Along with that silver tongue and sinful mouth. He’ll make you feel so incredibly good, plunging his long fingers into you and taking you into his mouth. He’s lick and suck at you and even slide his tongue inside you. Perhaps the taste of you would be enough to tide him over until you were properly his- Married to him. It would have to be enough because you deserved to have a perfect wedding and perfect wedding night.

But aeons that doesn’t stop him from pleasuring you with what he can before then in order to hopefully keep himself in line. Even as his cock aches with the need to have you, he’ll just hold you down and whisper sweet promises in your ear. Even if you beg him, he won’t. Just wait for him baby just a little longer-

But after the ceremony is over and the afterparty is done and the guests all leave-

Oh dear. You’re finally left alone with your hungry fian- husband. You’re finally left alone with your absolutely famished husband. And you’re on the menu.

It begins like how many of your other encounters of sexual nature begin.

Sweet kisses that make it seem like he wants to swallow you whole. Gentle hands taking in the feel of you in his arms. Trailing kisses down your throat, eyes closed in ecstasy because you were finally his now. He can have you with no regrets. All that waiting was for this moment. When he could finally have you wholly. And that makes this moment in the warm light of the bedside lamp and the cooler shades of the moon all the sweeter.

Wetted fingers stretching you in preparation for something larger, taking their time in their task despite knowing you well by then. Because even if this was to get you ready to become one with him- He’s wants to draw as much pleasure from you as possible. This is a special night for the two of you. One he will cherish completely and one he wants to make perfect for you. His arm would be holding him up, cradled behind your head for you to lean on while he molds himself to your side. Even as you whine and roll your hips into the curl of his fingers inside you, pressing on that special spot inside you, he kisses your cheeks gently with soothing words. “Good… very good, my love. Just a little more- I want you to finish on my fingers first. Can you do that for me, my sweet? I know you can-”

Just as he gives you your first orgasm of the night, he takes your lips once more while gently coaxing your through the waves of pleasure. He’s so soft, guiding you through the dance even while your mind goes blank for a bit as he watches your expression. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he kisses you almost chastely before beginning his journey down your body to have his prize. The prize being whatever he’s managed to pull from you. He’d lick it from your body in broad strokes as though he were tasting honey dribbled over your form, caressing your every curve as he went.

Sunday would dribble lube over himself, a hand slathering the viscous substance over his cock in pumping motions. It was almost erotic watching him. The way he'd squeeze just a little at the top and you would watch his hardness twitch and drool between his fingers. But when you look up, the angelic man would only be looking at you. Gazing lovingly- longingly at you.

That's how it always was. Ever since meeting, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. You were simply radiant to him. Unlike anything or anyone else he'd ever seen.

Leaning over you to settle himself between your legs, Sunday would give you another kiss before asking if you were ready. While waiting for your answer, he'd go back to nip and lick at your neck. He wanted to mark you for all to see- You were his. His lover, his spouse, his soulmate. His. No one else's. He would love and care for you in every way, he'd think to himself.

And no- Don't just nod at him. "I need to hear you say it, dove. Please? For me, my dear?" Once you'd given him your clear consent, he'd bring you into a deep kiss while lining himself up with your stretched out, wet entrance. He can't even bring himself to tease you a little. Though the thought crossed his mind, he knew he'd been waiting far too long for this.

Once he was in the proper place, he'd rest his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing in each other's air while he looks down at where the two of you would be connected, fingers drifting to fondle you in order to distract from any possible pain you may feel with a gentle hum.

As Sunday would finally push in, cockhead popping inside, he'd gasp against your lips with twitching hips he had to force still. "Are you alright, love?" Taking a moment for himself to regain his composure and steel himself, he'd hide away in the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent and feel your pulse beneath his soft lips. Once you were ready it would be but a slow rock of his hips, moving gently inside you, to eventually sheath himself completely inside. As he worked himself into your tightness, Sunday would whisper sweet words into your ears in a whisper, as though the words were only for the two of you despite no one else being around- The words would come in between kisses while he rubbed a hand up and down your side to comfort you, the hand occasionally straying to rub your sex or pluck at your nipples to distract you from the strain of this part of the night.

Once bottomed out, your ass resting in the cradle of his hips with his body covering yours, he would ask you if you're alright and give you time to adjust. It's all praises here, the man telling you just how good you are for him and saying that you're doing wonderfully. After some time passes and you rock your hips against his to test your comfort, a small moan would be startled out of him before it devolves into a chuckle. "Are you ready, my love?"

It'd start with hip just grinding into you, firm but slow and accompanied by a pleasured sigh from him. He'd hold back none of his sounds because he wanted you to know how good you made him feel. Then he'd pull out only just a bit before thrusting himself back in. At some point he had begun to properly fuck you, the push and pull like the rocking of a boat on a gentle sea. This was making love. And after angling his hips, he found your sweet spot he'd only ever touched with those pretty fingers of his.

It'd be a struggle to not lose himself in you. In your all-consuming presence and the pleasure you gave him- In the love you showed him as you reached up to bring him close with a whimper of his name. It was like hearing the gospel fall from your lips. And they might as well have been. For now you were his everything. His god, his true Harmony. Were you to say it, it would be so. And right now, you were telling him that it felt good and asking him to keep going. So, he would.

With teeth gently marking all the places he'd been, his darkened eyes would watch the way you arch your back and moan to the heavens (they were yours anyways). Sunday is something that knows how to hide its teeth and disguise itself in the form of a man. He was careful to dull his claws so he would not hurt you when he held you close. Careful to veil the violence that was part of him, showing in his eyes, when he was with you. But he was a beast who knew the taste of blood. And yet you, his pure and lovely dove, loved him and accepted him. You said he was a good man and that you loved him. You were his truth. So, it must be so.

He wanted to claim you so wholly that none could ever deny that you both belonged to one another. That none could mistake that you were his deity and him your humble and devout servant who worshiped you here in the temple of your bed, giving you his offerings in pleasure, loyalty, and love. That brought another idea to mind of just how he could claim you and show you his deepest love.

"I want to breed you, my love. To carry on the family and mark you inside with my cum. Would that be alright? Do you want that as well, dove?"

He would speed up now, thinking about how he could have a family with you. How lovely you would look with a child tottering around behind you. He would make it happen no matter what so long as you wanted it as well. When you agree, he'd smile so wide his face hurt and shower you with kisses. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, my love my heart my everything-"

He can hardly fathom how he'd lived without you before.

Touching and kissing you all over he drove the two of you to your peak, the both of you moaning and whining against each other's lips as you kissed through the high. His hips continued to rock into yours to prolong the waves of pleasure that washed over you before slowing to a stop when you both became overstimulated.

"Thank you, love. You did so well- So very good for me. I love you so much," he'd praise and declare between kisses that he planted all over- Everywhere he could reach while wrapped up in your arms and holding you so close you wondered if the two of you could fuse together. "I love you, too," you'd mumble against his lips as he came back to them for a proper kiss. The chaste peck turning into a sensuous slide of lips, unhurried and full of undeniable love.

Even when he withdrew from your now cum-filled hole and began to clean you up, he would praise you and ask you how you felt while pressing kisses every place he touched. Once everything was done and he'd had you drink water, he'd lay down and pull you to lay on his chest. While stroking your back and pressing a kiss to your hair, he'd bid you goodnight and say yet another "I love you" before quietly humming to help you drift asleep.

Hopefully that was to your liking~ I had fun writing it! Thank you for the idea and for letting me write more about Sunday! <333

Feel free to send in another request if you want, hehe.

#Roro writes #gn reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn reader #honkai star rail x gn reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #sunday smut #hsr sunday smut #bottom reader #top character #asks answered

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chloenotfound404 · 9 months

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I have a request if they are open

Copia being a dad :)

I was gonna do a Drabble but decided on a Fic for this! I’m thinking of writing a pt 2 if anyone wants it ❤️.

WARNINGS- none really, just cute fluff of Copia being a goofball dad (not proof read sorry!)

These moments ~ dad!copia x fiancée!reader

It was a dreary night in the ministry, you were running about trying to clean up after your twin girls, Lilith and Prudence. The ministry halls clean but the office of your Fiancée a mess.

You picked both the girls up and placed them in their room, opposite the office where you and Copias joint room also sat. The living quarters of your little family a mess still from earlier. You put them in front of their toys, soon turning back to finish up cleaning your Fiancée’s working area before he finished his meeting with the Clergy.

Even after the office was clean, there was still your living quarters. You sigh and take a breath to collect yourself, the stress of parenthood, your duties and stresses from the ministry weighing in your shoulders as you walk back over to the personal living area. You begun to clean up the loose toys in the living room and put them away, putting the dishes away, doing the washing and pulling out the hoover. Before even plugging in the hoover, Copia stands against the doorframe with his cloak in his arms.

“Rough day, Mia Cara?” He asks, tilting his head slightly to the girls’ room hearing their squeals and giggles from them playing.

“Rough doesn’t even describe it. I’ve been trying to calm them down and get them to behave but, I can’t,” you mutter, rubbing your face out of tiredness and slight frustration. Your attention suddenly turning to the girls room as you start to hear hear them yell and babble about random things.

Copia chuckles softly and walks over to kiss your lips softly, his hands resting on your waste as he does so. His hair messy as well as his uniform from the busy day he had. You couldn’t help but smile softly as you smelled his cologne, the smell easing your nerves as he held you close.

“Tell you what, I can try and calm them I’d you want, Amore?” He asks, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he looks down at you.

You nod softly and smile at him, a lazy and tired look on your face as you just want to unwind with him for a night. Something you two hadn’t had the luxury of doing in a while. “Thank you, darling,” you chuckle, feeling a soft kiss you your neck before he turns and opens the door to the girls’ joint room.

Your heart flutters as you see him pick them both up swiftly and spin them around. He smiles over at you as he catches you staring at them. You chuckle and turn on the hoover, beginning to hoover the living room and clean up any loose mess laying about. Every so often you glance to the room, seeing Copia play with the two girls. The small cute toddler giggles filling the house over the sound of the hoover as he pretends to eat them. Something he did when the girls were misbehaving or generally being naughty.

You can’t help but giggle hearing their laugher as you continue to clean, soon finishing and switching off the hoover. Your face plastered with a wide smile as you put it in the cupboard as you hear raspberries being blown but this time, it was Copia’s laugher taking over. You smile and stand at the doorframe of the room, the girls and your love not noticing you at all as the small little play fight raged on.

You never really got to see the soft side of Copia often like this, and when you did you savoured every moment. You knew if you were the one poking him, messing up his hair, messing his uniform up- he would only do it right back to you. But with the girls, it’s different. He was so soft and playful, not the typically stressed and anxious Papa he normally was. It was like the girls took a weigh off him when he was with them.

Not long after, he noticed you and blushed slightly as you smile down at the situation. You never saw a full play fight unfold with your fiancée and your beautiful twin daughters, but seeing it all this time made your heart sing.

“Ok girls, mama needs you to clean your room, ok? Mama is really tired tonight so let’s help her, yeah?” He speaks so softly to the girls, both of them nodding in unison as they Leap up and run over to you hugging your legs. “Night night mama!” Lilith chuckles, skipping away to clean with Prudence. Copia gets up and walks over to you, guiding you out of the door frame as he shuts the door.

“Well, mio dolce, care to unwind?” He chuckles, gently pushing you to the bedroom. A slight giggle escaping you as he smacks your ass playfully to push you into the room.

You chuckle and roll your eyes, changing into some loungewear from the heavy and uncomfortable ministry uniform. “You’re such an amazing father,” you chuckle, slinging your arms around his waste as he takes off his uniform shirt.

“Well, our girls need someone to keep them in check,” he smiles, laying back on the bed as you lay beside him. Your heart still full from witnessing the events of tonight. You rest your head on his shoulder, lounging with him as he flicks through the channels.

You smile softly and look down at your stomach quickly before closing your eyes over.

just wait till you tell him the news of your third child on the way…

#copia x reader #papa iv #papa copia #copia #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band #cardinal copia #copia emeritus #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost copia

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pokedogszine · 1 year

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🐾Contributor S-PAW-tlights!🐾

Happy Friday! We're here to formally introduce you to four new fluffy, fantastic, fabulous, friendly faces! Wow, what a tongue twister. Anyways, please put your paws together for Fian Oak, Foxinajacket, Fran Riolobos, and FunSizeMini!

Fian Oak is a Writer with descriptive and engaging writing that makes you feel like you're part of the story! Foxinajacket is a Page Artist that can capture the beauty of any scene in any season with dazzlingly detailed art! Fran Riolobos is a Page Artist that brings his own fantastically creative creature designs to the table! FunSizeMini is a Merch Artist who- well- uh. I mean, I don't think I have to say anything. Look at those good bois. They're perfect. Find them here!: Fian Oak - AO3 / @fiannalover Foxinajacket - Twitter / Instagram Fran Riolobos - Instagram / Website FunSizeMini - Twitter / @funsizemini

#zine #fan zine #pokemon #dog #pokemon dogs #dogs #dog pokemon #pokémon #cute pokemon #pkmn zine #pkmn #fandom zine #fanzine #pokemon zine #doggo #contributor spotlight #zine contributors

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thedarknesssings · 2 years

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Prompt 3: An Unhealthy Desire

Prompt 3: Temper - FFXIV Write 2022 Characters: Sinnan of the Night, Melanthian the Star; mentions of Idristan @roses-and-grimoires, Talia @reddevil-xiv and Fian @dark-revelries.

Eyes as dark as midnight watch the woman walk away. Her red hair sways behind her, casting sparks of twilight in her wake. He’s fairly sure she has no idea. Faerie swallows her up soon enough, taking her back through their Grove to the world she is bound to. The world that birthed her.

A fingertip curls around the sharp points of his teeth and he bites down, tasting the burst of copper sweet ichor. His needs should be fulfilled. Both of his spouses have made their visits recently, both gladdened his heart for the time they were with him. White hair like moonshine and crimson locks like dusk’s glow, their taste has not even faded from his lips.

Yet he turns away from the archway of twisted tree trunks and branches dripping with moss and wide green leaves. The Court of the Night bows to his will and ripples with his thoughts. The forest floor bleeds away, peels back to reveal the dark stone beneath it. A set of stairs spiral into darkness and he follows them. Down…

Down…

Down into the bowels of Faerie, where the plane splits from the constructed realm their wills and magics formed into the nothingness that surrounds every world. So many names for the night and each of them a gloss to cover the void of space. He is nothing more than a romantic thought on the tongues of thousands of mortals. Poetry provides him power, gives him life.

There is nothing that Night doesn’t have. His footsteps halt on the broken ledge of stone, his gaze cast out to reflect the starlight flickering back at him. One hand extends, a single name spoken with soft clarity.

“Melanthian.”

A star shimmers in response, brightening so much as to drown the light from the others nearby. Night’s smile quirks up at the corners of his mouth, and he extends both hands cupped together. The star comes to rest in his hands, shimmering and flickering like a language that only the two of them could understand.

“Does he have the right to mourn you as I do?”

Idristan’s words had not fallen on deaf ears despite Night’s quick refusal. Anger at the audacity of Fian’s Court to ever ask him for such a thing fueled that response and Night recognizes that now. Had he not stood toe to toe with Fian not long ago? Had they not spoken of the past?

“I am no one to deny the heart loves even if the man is rotten to his core. What I am doing, Melanthian? He who has torn us asunder, cast us into this centuries old decay, has sparked something in me. I bear no shame, merely a yearning to place myself in his path once more.”

Night’s cloak spreads around him as he crouches down on the stone edge, shadow smearing from the hem against the floor in whorls. The star flickers and pulses, a heart in his hands forged of belief, light, and love. His smile deepens and a soft huff of a laugh slips free.

“Have faith, you say?” Night shakes his head and releases the star back into the sky with care. “I will try. With the eyes of you and your siblings watching, I know I am not alone. My choices have led me here, cast me down and let me fall. My path is my own. I will rise again.”

#FFxivWrite2022 #Prompt 3 #ffxiv writers #writers on tumblr #Sinnan #Melanthian #Fian #Talia #Idristan #short story #vignette

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fyeahghosttrick · 2 years

Text

Ghost Swap 9 - Masterlist

Closing ceremonies! Just pretend it’s last week! All works queued ❤

@ace-cyclic for @ravensa: The tower (art, Yomiel)

@azurefishnets for @arbuthnotblob: Magitek didn’t do much to protect from snow and ice (fic, Tengo&Jeego AU)

@azurefishnets for @redwoodrroad: When in doubt (fic, Bailey, Bailey’s partner, Alma, Jowd, Cabanela)

@azurefishnets for @siverwrites: The weight of mirth (fic, Cabanela(/Jowd))

@azurefishnets and @siverwrites for @laughingmango : Pigeons and Patterns (fic, Alma, Pigeon Man, Lovey-Dove)

@cherryflavdluv for @ace-cyclic: The Temsik emerald (art, Sissel&Lynne AU)

@dapskie for @playghosttrick: Psychonauts crossover (art, Sissel, Lynne, Yomiel, Raz)

@dreamdancerdotfile for @yunalystelle: A walk (Yomiel, Sissel, Cabanela)

@glowing-gravity for @mitsubachiaria: Babysitting (comic, Cabanela&Kamila)

@guccisystem for @stareofsilver: Sailor Moon fusion (art, Yomiel&Sissel)

@kamil-a for @cherryflavdluv: Loyal steed (art, Kamila&Missile)

@katecattus for @phantriicks: Rain (fic, Yomiel AU)

@laughingmango for @azurefishnets: The beard..... (art, Jowd/Alma/Cabanela AU)

@laughingmango for @guccisystem: Yomiel rehearses (art, Yomiel&Sissel)

@laughingmango for @paperweight-jellyfish: Act nooormal (art, Cabanela&Kamila)

@laughingmango for @siverwrites: Just learn to write (art, Alma&Sissel)

@mrkanman for @katecattus: It’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe. (art, Lynne&Kamila)

@nebulacloudz for @siverwrites: pre-game team-up (art, Cabanela&Pigeon Man&Lovey Dove)

@paperweight-jellyfish for @laughingmango: a lovely evening (art, Alma&Cabanela)

For @nebulacloudz: (posted privately)

@playghosttrick for @rookiebotwx78: sissel goes to the junkyard post-ending and finds a familiar, rusted lamp. what happens next may surprise you! (fic, Sissel, Ray, Yomiel)

@ravensa for @glowing-gravity: Yomiel’s latest painting (art, Yomiel&Sissel)

@raygirlramblings for @playghosttrick: Layton crossover (art, Layton Luke and the pets)

@redwoodrroad for @shibasquish: Jowd and Cabanela hanging out (art, Cabanela, Jowd, Sissel)

@rookiebotwx78 for @raygirlramblings: Sharing a cigarette (art, Jeego/Tengo)

@shibasquish for @azurefishnets: Aquarium date (art, Alma/Jowd/Cabanela)

@siverwrites for @azurefishnets: A troublesome gift (fic, Jowd/Alma(/Cabanela))

@siverwrites for @dreamdancerdotfile A Day in the (Un)Life of… (fic, Sissel, Alma, Jowd, Kamila, Yomiel, fian!Sissel)

@siverwrites for @yunalystelle: Picture perfect (fic, Alma/Cabanela/Jowd)

@stareofsilver for @mrkanman: Cabanela visiting Lynne at the hospital (art, Cabanela and Lynne)

@yunalystelle for @dapskie: The two of us (fic, Yomiel&Sissel)

Once again: thank you so much, everyone. See you next year!

#ghost trick #ghost swap #mod post #bye Gswap 9!

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fiannalover · 3 months

Text

To/be seen

John gasped for breath, having caught up to his companion at last.

His guide for Floor 51 had left him by now, having argued his presence would probably only put the boy further on edge. It was fine. He should do this by himself.

His savior had ran away from him. He would not allow that. Chasing and searching across great perils, he would get his voice across.

“Lancelot! Wait for me!”

The adventurer in question froze, turning around to look at the other eye-to-eye. John had seen a fair variety of expressions on Lancelot’s face, most of which carried a smile, even if insincere.

This one was unmasked. Fear and panic. A primal urge to escape to somewhere, somehow. “No. No no no no! Just go away! You don’t wanna come with me!” He cried out.

“I do! Since we first met, I have wanted to travel with you.” He shouted, the wind carrying his words. “I still want that. Please, listen to me!”

The chase over a land functionally untouched by civilization neared its end, everything on the Floor tinted dark green by the unending woods and the dead of the night. The only colours that stood out were the bright yellow of one’s hair and the clear blue of the brunette’s eyes.

The ground was unstable on the floor. It wasn’t uncommon for the people of the hill to move it all over during the season. Ravines and deep pits had covered the landscape John traversed through to get here, one of the former standing right behind Lancelot

“You saw me! You saw I’m a monster and dangerous and you saw what ‘those like me’ are meant to be! Get away! STOP REMINDING ME OF THAT!”

Slashing his sword forward, currents of water, transparently dark under the color of the night, streamed towards John, who managed to plant his staff on the ground at the last moment, manifesting a glowing, ethereal curtain of light to protect himself.

He knew what the man was capable of. This attack was nothing. If the adventurer truly wanted to harm him, the farmer wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him, and that was why-

“I don’t care about that! You’re Lancelot! You saved me and taught me so much of the world, with such attention and care. You changed me for the better and you’re my friend! That is all that matters to me!”

The blue eyes went empty. “You do not… mean th-”

His foot stepped back into thin air. John dashed forwards.

Throwing himself to the ground, he managed to grab both wrists of the falling man. Lancelot didn’t fall very far, thankfully. Getting back up would be easy, as long as he helped himself get back up.

“Don’t lie! You’re not my friend, no one is! No one could be a friend of a freak like me! Ever since I was born, people have only looked for me to make fun of me or make use of me! You’ll discard me, like everyone else has!” He shouted, trying to squirm out of the hold.

“I won’t! I promise I won’t! And I promise there are other people who care for you. But right now, let me do so. Please.”

“Why should I believe you!? Tell me!”

Both of them pleaded, though one of them didn’t know he was doing so.

“I love you.” John confessed. “That’s why.”

Lancelot froze again. He looked at John with equal amounts of disbelief and pure want - a desire for a joy not meant for him. “No… please, stop taunting me. Stop saying all that just to reveal it is not true.”

“It is. You don’t have to feel the same, but you have to accept it. So-” Threatening their precarious situation, John impulsively, pushed himself a couple inches forward, while pulling his savior towards him.

Meeting halfway, the adventurer went limp.

Then, accepting the aid presented to him, he let himself find a foothold and pushed himself up.

—----------

Floor 51 during Mayday was rumored to be dangerous. Fortunately, none of the spirits and fairies floating around seeked to harm them. And so, John set up camp, preparing a small fire and their tent.

“Sorry. For making you do all this.” Lancelot said, speaking with a softer, lower tone than ever before, clear exhaustion behind his words.

“No no. It’s fine. You have to rest right now. Well, both of us do, but, you know.” He replied, making them chuckle a bit. “Sorry. For kissing you like that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s ok! It’s ok! I… I probably wouldn’t have stopped if you hadn’t shocked me into listening to you.” He admitted. After a moment of silence, he asked. “Did you mean… everything?”

“I did. I see you as a great friend. There are people besides me who care for you. I want to keep traveling with you.” John recapped, blushing as he did so. “And I love you. It is not something you have to reciprocate, though.”

Lancelot hugged his own knees, seeming to want to make himself smaller, another new emotion seen on him. He muttered something under his breath, making his companion raise his eyebrow. “You were my first kiss.”

The farmer let out a small ‘ah’ of understanding before starting to internally panic. He was what? Oh no. Oh no no no no no no-

Luckily, a small giggle snapped the farmer back to reality. “Now that's more my John.”

Blinking and recognizing his own ridiculousness, he began laughing as well, the atmosphere lightening just a bit. “Can we talk tomorrow, after we return to Curupira and the others? I think I want to rest before deciding anything else.” Lancelot requested.

“Sure. No problem.”

The two entered their sleeping spot, laying down on the floor. It was quiet, cool and serene. The perfect chill after a storm.

“John? Can I request one more thing from you?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Hold on to me. Please. I feel like this will fade away into seafoam.”

The man agreed, carefully enveloping Lancelot in his arms. As the spiky-haired adventurer got closer, resting his head on the other’s chest, John closed his embrace.

One could feel the other’s breath on their body. Quietly, together, they fell asleep, salt water melting away.

—-----------

“I’m sorry. I caused a lot of trouble for you.” Lancelot said, bowing to the guardian of 50’s forests.

The fae looked at him with as neutral an expression as possible before bluntly replying. “What are you apologizing for?”

The human blinked. “Erm… environmental damage?”

“You mean your little water spouts? Hah! I mend more dangerous floods all the time. It was nothing.” Curupira boasted.

“T-then… the fact I bailed on helping you and the others keep the spirits and rogue beings at bay?” He pointed out.

“Me and the kids deal with them by ourselves every year. It was a bit of a shame that the extra help quit halfway through, but the end result wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary.” He explained.

“I-I see. But…”

Sighing, the protector decided to speak a little more. “You know, a forest is never the same as they were a couple seconds ago. Trees fall, animals die, new seeds sprout. Everyday, it decays and sprouts anew. At times, you have to burn away some of it to open space for new stuff.” He explained, playfully punching Lancelot’s shoulder. “I think I’m gonna add some more guava trees this time. You figure out what you want to add to yours.”

As the backward-footed man left, the black-haired man thought that over. What he wanted…

… What did he want?

—---------

The sun was high up in the sky.

“So this is-”

“My father’s grave, yes.” Lancelot replied. The ‘ua Duibhne’ carving on the stone faded at some spots, but remained legible. “He considered himself a man with no homeland, always on the move. Because of that, he asked to be buried at the place he died. This spot is rather stable in comparison to the rest of the floor, so it was just about the only place it could be put.”

The orange-haired man nodded. He remembered Diarmuid’s weapons proudly displayed on the orphanage, and Maria mentioning they rested there in place of someone else.

If they hadn’t ran into yesterday’s troubles, they would have returned to the road by now. As it was, though…

“John. Yesterday, you saved my life. Also, it was the first time someone said they loved me since my father died… at least, the first time since I believed in that as truth. I don’t know what ‘love’ means to me.” Lancelot admitted, the supportive gaze of his travel companion upon him.

The wind blew by, ruffling their hair and the humble blades of grass. The sunlight kissed John’s skin, making Lancelot feel like he was glowing on his entirety.

John believed in him. A true light through the darkness.

“You said traveling with me taught you many things you didn’t know. So, right now, would you help me learn and rebuild myself as we keep traveling?”

The farmer smiled. “I think I'm still gonna rely on you more than the other way around. But you can count on me, no matter what.”

Yesterday was nice, they thought.

This journey began so they could see the world in its entirety.

“Come on! We're heading off to Floor 52!” Lancelot said, grabbing John’s hand and breaking out on a run like he did many times before.

Now, to figure out how one was seen by it.

#ockiss24 #fian's OCs #fian writes #john arc #lancelot ua duibhne

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skygemspeaks · 4 months

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your jarra breaks up with fian au is something im soooooo excited about (have been since you first started talking about it)!!!! it's just such a brilliant idea especially since fian gets a bit ehhhh to me as a character (especially once the amazing raven comes in!!!!) is there anything new you've thought of adding to it since reading the drago series?

I'm glad you're excited for it! It's something that's been on my mind ever since I first thought of it, but the main thing that's been putting me off actually writing and posting it was that I knew I was missing a lot of context before, since I hadn't read any of the extra content.

Fian continues to annoy me, and at this point idk if I just have a negative view on everything he does because I already disliked him, but that one part in Earth Prime with Jarra's skintight made me SO upset. Jarra's body had "developed" during her time in the regrowth tank, to the point that it caused the skintight to be smaller in the chest area, and the stretching of the fabric made her breasts more visible. And instead of informing Jarra about this, Fian just decided to enjoy the view? Wtf? He said that he didn't think it would matter because she usually wore a robe over her skintight but....he has to know there's always a chance others will see her in just her skintight. In literally the first book during the Solar 5 reacue, the two of them and Cassandra 2 were around each other in just their skintights when they were resting.

This au is so self indulgent for me because I'm just working out all my frustration with Fian in it and gushing over Raven the whole time 😂 Also, I haven't decided yet if I'll introduce Dalmora into the relationship but I think I might.

Anyways in regards to your question, yeah there are a few things I was thinking of adding to it, after having read the Drago 2781 series. There'll be multiple povs from Riak and Drago, and I'm hoping to find a way to bring Jaxon and Gemelle into the story because I love both of them so much.

There'll be a couple mentions of what happened during the Hera blockade, since we know that Raven's a big fan of Drago, and I feel like that might have to do with it 😂 Raven having more knowledge about the Tell Clan I think would really help Jarra come to terms with her Betan heritage a lot easier and would help facilitate a closer relationship with her family.

Also, we all know I'm on that doting grandfather Riak agenda. On God I'm gonna find a way to bring it up early on.

Oh and Playdon's thing with Jerez is really cute, I might throw in some hints about that too.

#earth girl ask #portal future ask #earth girl trilogy #portal future #character hate #jarra tell morrath #draven federov seti raven #janet edwards

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that-stickfig-phoenix · 14 days

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*They gasp and nod immediately, grinning.* YES YES I’D DO ANYTHING TO STOP THIS FUCKING URGE

-Fighting Anon

Okay.

*He writes down a rune and scans it with his arm. It gets imprinted onto his palm, and he applies it to FiAn. The rune translates to "Calm"*

How do you feel?

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zooterchet · 2 years

Text

Across 110th Street

Ra's al-Ghul: George Soros. He wants to remove law of court related to procedure, crime, as necessary to place in television or film; it's how crime bosses learn, instead of the committee system, the cops.

Scarecrow: David Charlebois. He's got the rolodex, on how to fraud Dr. Fian, before King James V of Scotland, and necessarily has to have a downfall, before the rolodex "hebe" can be passed, to a new shyster, through his family.

Victor Zsasz: Ben Carl. A film school expert that understands predictive programming with film, by taking a particular film and school policy, in the kindergarten rotary groove system, the training of "games", luck identifiers to train probability. A gambling expert, pursuing a debt on Scarecrow, for the felonious NFL bet that started the whole heist and put Bellicheck as head coach of the Patriots, instead of a Vikings Superbowl.

Jim Gordon: Tom Brady. The false plant in the case syntax, Jim Gordon was placed in the film as a CIA operative, overseeing Batman's slow, eventual progress, to removing comic books from the hands of Asperger's Syndrome and remedial education sufferers, because it disrupts sports games and theories hours in households of working class.

Batman: Ivan Tomasic. He's been assigned as an agent of Ra's al-Ghul, to apprehend Scarecrow, to move the rolodex sale into place.

Alfred Pennyworth: John Washburne. A prominent Springfield mobster, affiliate of the Lucchese Syndicate, responsible for plumbing for cop apartments in New England and New York. A veteran of Desert Storm, in explosives and demolitions.

Rachel Dawes: Allison Haimes. She's assigned to the case of Victor Zsasz, forced to clear him, due to Scarecrow's development of Thrill, the stage 1 solution to "fear gas", Zyprexa, a potent anti-psychotic sold to the patent of Batman.

Joker: Jeff Niemera. A Jewish spy, hired by Ra's al-Ghul, to test Scarecrow's system, by taking a game theory stock fraud tell, the use of DC Comics in a court room placement, the frame of Dr. Fian as a witch for using literature, specifically the Bible (Canon, the model for a comic book), in court, to clear himself.

Harvey Dent: Jim Duggan. A CIA agent in the sports law department, sports management, and a "Made Man". By mimicking "Rocky", the film, he gained the attention of the CIA, and has been placed as a major divested mutual manager, through the films and media division of the Langley Substation in Providence (Family Guy, the overlook of the Cuban intelligence exchange, "Recon 1", a French ExSec Situation report area for criminal assets usage, the Bridgewater Triangle).

Bane: Matthew John Scott Lennox. A kayfabe expert, the actual form, from a family that's invented every form of martial arts on the planet, even the pillow bug, entomology warfare. The Gnostic, a hardened prison survivor that's been placed under hire by Ra's al-Ghul, to place "Fiqh", Islamic embassy economics, in charge of the cashiers and registers system, to reveal sports, specifically statistics, as in charge of the NYSE, and through this, world exchanges, to enslave Israel via munitions.

Talia al-Ghul: Jessica Bailey. A founding member of Umbrella, responsible by family for the Potato Famine, first cousin with Prince William and Prince Harry of England, and a talented knife, sword, and poisons expert. Operating under her "Prince Valiant" MI-6 imprint, Spider-Man, she's arranged for the downfall of Jim Duggan, in a study of kayfabe from her adopted cousin, Bane, with a potent poison to end the nuclear weapons arms race, by revealing INTERPOL (the KGB) as responsible, the Gnostic organization that Bane defected from, after Columbine.

Robin: Josh Dumais. The little brother of a teacher that used to write scribe for DC Comics, Joshua Dumais has always been aware of the sinister nature of sports, being an extortion victim by athletes in his school, specifically Jewish-Americans. A foe of the Southern Strategy, with a family that served in the Vietnam War, they loath Nixon, even joking about him, since he was a transgender by birth, something that his stepfamily extolls, the Dumaises, but his family, the O'Goremans, loath, as Irish-Catholics; hating the Dungannons, the Irish Lords born to Precumbtree, and the Bannisters, Nixon himself.

Catwoman: Kara Williamson. A method actress and an Ottoman Turk, Catwoman wants to escape from the country, so she's frauded her twin sister, Jenna Williamson, out of her MI-6 contract, and presently operates through Doctor Joshua Golden, real name Yazi Amin, a legendary MI-6 operator that specializes in agency leaks of comics and movies codes, when they're invoked as an actual fact of operation or matter by a member of one's own contract character; the disagreement with James of Scotland resounding.

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oldragsandcandleends · 2 years

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Tonight's nearly-midnight thought: have we ever actually seen Danny Gaudie eating?

This stems, bizarrely, from the previous midnight thought, which was 'what if Oathbound used basically everyone's point of view except Fian's' and that leading to 'ugh, then I'd have to write Lindy Gaudie' which leads further to 'actually that might work' and that leads to, she does not have human teeth, does her brother have human teeth?

#it would work because you'd get the darkest hour as her moment of perceived triumph in her point of view #thanks midnight brain I hate it

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mountainashfae · 3 years

Note

Softly + Wanderer uuuuuuuuh Aurien

uuuhuhu Aurien my beloved. The fun of having one of the players follow my Tumblr but will she gain anything from this? Who knows.

Softly. Describe one of their dreams, good or bad (with proper warnings).

The world is white, it is cold. Visibility is limited only to the falling snow, the trees in the distance, and the aurora overhead. The cold never bothers them, yet this time they find it seeping so deep into their bones it is hard to move. They try to take a step, but make no movement. They look down, and see ice climbing up their leg. A sickeningly sweet and familiar voice speaks up behind them, but they can't make out the words. They want to run, but arms wrap around them like ice.

They wake up, unsure if it was a dream, or a vision.

Wanderer. Describe an aspect of their world/setting they interact with.

There are many gods in the world, with many followers and many clerics and oracles. They've prayed to many over the centuries, hoping that maybe someone would cast their gaze upon them. They've never been sure if any of them have heard their prayers. Whether they've been obstructed, or if they've just ignored them. They're not sure which would be preferred.

Adventure Themed OC Ask Game

#okay so I had Arknights OST playing in the background and got in a Mood #so this turned more into creative writing than answering questions #so uhhhhh have fun with that!#thanks Fian love you!#ask game #skulls n shackles

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elveny · 4 years

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How about some Tabris/Zevran fluff please? Maybe a moment where they could shut out the rest of the world if only for a little while?

Awesome choice! Thank you! ❤

“Can I ask you something?”

Zevran opened his eyes and blinked like a content cat. “Hmm,” he hummed, somehow managing to make even that simple sound suggestive. His hand curled on her naked skin, and a warm shiver ran down Fian’s back. The rain hadn’t eased up for three days and breaking camp had been out of the question, so they had all decided to just wait it out. Fian couldn’t say she minded. On the contrary, just holing up with Zevran in their tent gave her a much-needed reprieve from the craziness that was their mission. That was the world outside.

“Is it a dirty question, mi amor? You know I always give the best answers,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Fian chuckled, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “No, not this time, sorry.” She idly traced a finger over the tattoos on his back.

Zevran’s smile deepened. “Ah, but if you continue doing this, I might just make up a question for you.”

Immediately, her hand stilled. “I’m serious, Zev,” she chided him.

With an overly dramatic sigh, Zevran turned onto his side so he could better look at her. He reached to touch the golden earring in her ear, his smile softening. “It is hard to remain serious when there is a beautiful naked woman lying next to me,” he teased, giving her a grin when she stuck out her tongue at him. “Very well, mi amor. Ask away.”

“If you could go back and not become a Crow, would you?”

Zevran raised an eyebrow. “But I cannot go back.”

Fian tsked him. “Of course not, but if you could. Would you?”

A thoughtful expression came onto his face. “That is a curious question. Why do you ask?”

Fian didn’t answer immediately, but her fingers started again to trail over his skin, tracing the many scars crossing his body. Some were so old they were barely more than a thin faded line, some barely a year old. Some were tick and puckered, speaking of neglect and lack of medical care. He had taken pains of hiding some of them beneath tattoos, others crossed over the ink, harshly disrupting the patterns. “Don’t you sometimes wish for a life with… less pain?” she eventually said softly, her hand splaying over his chest. “They hurt you so much.”

Zevran caught her hand and placed a kiss into her palm. “True,” he said, “but they also brought me to you. I’d say that was worth it.”

“But…” she started, drawing her eyebrows together, only to be interrupted by a finger on her lips.

A rare seriousness was in Zevran’s face as he looked at her. “No, Fian. You don’t understand. Knowing you’ll wait for me at the end, I would go back and gladly suffer it all again.”

Fian sucked in a breath at his words, her eyes wide. “Zev…” she whispered, but he only smiled, a gleam coming into his eyes.

“Besides,” he smirked, “you would be surprised how many people think scars are sexy. I do remember one very appreciative conversation about my scars between — it was you and Leliana, no?”

Immediately, a deep blush spread over Fian’s face, and Zevran laughed. “You heard that?!” she exclaimed. “You weren’t supposed to!”

“Ah, but of course I did. You would be surprised just how much I heard.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Fian groaned, falling back and covering her face with her hands.

“It made me realize you were not as immune to my charms as I thought you were,” he grinned.

She let out a breath and shook her head, looking back at him. The blush still colored her cheeks, but a smile played in the corner of her mouth. “Believe me, tesoro,” she said softly, “I was never immune to your charms.” She reached for him, touching his cheek tenderly before pulling him in for a kiss. When they parted again, a spark was in her eyes that sent a shiver of heat down his back. “Now tell me what kind of question you were about to make up.”

#fluff #fluff in times of crisis #zevran #zevran x warden #zevran x tabris #oc: fian tabris #dao #dragon age fanfiction #elveny answers #elveny writes

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