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iamfabiloz · 2 years

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If you are still taking prompts I'd love to see a BlueRose (BlueStar X RoseTail), they were such a good duo that no one really talks about much-

Yeah!! :] Their rlly cool n sweet,, Here’s a thing taking place like several moons before Rusty joins the clans, rosetail is an elder and bluestar is leader! I hope u enjoy <3

ThunderClan camp was positively buzzing with activity, every cat seemed busy with something. Bluestar’s old pelt ached as she sat in the entrance of her den. She had just come back from a two hours long patrol she had undertaken, making sure the territory was secure. Rumors were circulating about the new upstart leader of ShadowClan, Brokenstar, and Bluestar wanted to personally ensure nothing was amiss.

Bluestar watched as her reliable deputy, Redtail, organized patrols, his bushy ginger tail tap-tap tapping on the floor beside him. Mousefur and Runningwind were excitedly hauling back a hawk they had snagged during a hunting patrol. The bird’s huge wings snagged on the camp entrance for a heartbeat, before they yanked it through. Bluestar felt a rush of fondness for her former apprentice, Runningwind. She was immensely proud of him. He had grown into a respectable young warrior alongside his sister.

The pair raced to the freshkill pile, while Longpaw grumpily trailed behind them, holding a small mouse in his jaws. Darkstripe was frowning at his apprentice’s pitiful catch, his face screwed up in a embarrassed scowl.

Poor kit, Darkstripe can be hard on him at times, Bluestar thought sympathetically. I’m sure in a moon or two he’ll be fully ready for his warrior’s assessment.

Across the clearing, Willowpelt was play fighting with her kitten, Graykit. The little tom was pretending to be a monstrous badger, his little paws wiggling as he clung to his mother’s back. He jabbed at her pelt with tiny claws and Willowpelt flopped to the ground dramatically, pretending to be slain by the stinky badger. Graykit mewled in delight, darting around his mother in adorable glee. Bluestar felt her heart twist painfully but she pushed it away. It had been seasons since she had played with her own kits like that. She turned her head with a sigh, trying to focus on something else.

Most of the elders were curled up in a sunny spot at the center of camp, their old pelts glimmering gold as they basked in the warm light.

All except one.

Bluestar carefully exited from her den, the tendrils clinging to the entrance shivering as she brushed through them. Redtail didn’t notice her as she stalked towards the side of the medicine den, crouching low to the ground. She didn’t want to distract him from his duties, and she didn’t want interruptions for what she wanted to do.

The ThunderClan leader reached the fallen tree beside the medicine den, and quietly slipped under it and into the tunnel below. Her blue-gray fur was poked by twigs jutting out on the insides of the narrow passage, but she squeezed through and popped out the other side, now in the elder’s den. It was located under a branch that was part of the tree. Thick tangles of boughs and twigs made up the den walls, making Bluestar feel very secure.

A gray tabby she-cat was lying on a moss nest in the far corner of the space, her bushy pinkish-orange tail flicking restlessly. Bluestar cleared her throat and the cat’s head shot up instantaneously. Bluestar’s heart jumped as the gray tabby she had known since kithood beamed warmly, waving her pretty tail beckoningly.

“Why hello, Bluestar! What an unexpected surprise! What brings you to the elder’s den?” Rosetail purred, blinking innocently. Bluestar snorted, padding over to sit down next to her old ‘friend’. I come here every day! Bluestar huffed internally, though she felt her pelt begin to warm.

“Just checking up on how our clan’s finest are holding up.” Bluestar said in a low voice, lowering her head to look at Rosetail’s face.

Rosetail tipped her head up and grinned.

“You know I’m the only one here, right?”Rosetail said, gesturing with a paw to the empty den.

“I know.” Bluestar replied, her voice smooth.

Rosetail blinked, her expression changing slightly as she took in the implications. She chuckled softly, ducking her head low. Bluestar could hear her struggling to keep a flustered purr from rattling in her throat. Bluestar smiled, feeling quite chuffed. Rosetail screwed her face up before prodding Bluestar’s chest sharply with a paw.

“All right, don’t act so tickled. You obviously got that wit by hanging out with me all the time!” Rosetail laughed, her tone teasing. Bluestar rolled her eyes, feeling her tired muscles beginning to relax.

“Yes, yes of course. But…don’t I have my own charm, though?” Bluestar leaned forward, getting closer. Rosetail made a half-choked cry before bopping Bluestar’s muzzle with a gray paw.

“Blueberry, where did this newfound confidence come from?” Rosetail rumbled, her eyes glinting. “Is it because my den-mates aren’t around to hear us babble about?”

“Partially I suppose,” Bluestar meowed, flicking her ears. She liked being called ‘Blueberry’, but only by Rosetail.

“And what’s the other reason?” Rosetail asked, tilting her head playfully.

“I’ve had a somewhat okay day today. When I went out on patrol everything was weirdly normal.” Bluestar flexed her claws before flopping hastily onto the floor, all four paws stretched out.

“Everything has gone smoothly, no mischief of any kind, if you can believe that.”

Rosetail purred at the unusual sight and nudged her splayed out partner.

“That’s great! See, for every rainy day, there’s two sunny ones.”

The elder shifted so that their pelts brushed, gray on gray fur. Bluestar purred quietly, her ears burning. She sighed peacefully, closing her eyes. “I do suppose you’re right.”

Rosetail grinned impudently. “I always am.” Bluestar chuckled heartily, a noise she knew Rosetail enjoyed.

“I like seeing you like this.” Rosetail murmured, stroking her thick-furred tail against Bluestar’s flank.

“What? Undignified?” Bluestar opened her eyes and mrrowed teasingly.

“No, berry-brains! Relaxed and happy. With none of the leadership stuff weighing down on you.”

Bluestar blinked.

“Really? But it’s my duty to be strong for ThunderClan. They need me.”

Rosetail sighed, laying down her head to rest on her paws.

“I know that! But…you need to spend more time taking care of yourself. Some days, it’s okay to kick back and relax. The clan won’t combust, and it’ll do wonders for that big blue head of yours.”

“Big blue head?” Bluestar meowed, feeling a little offended.

Rosetail wrinkled her muzzle.

“Okay, normal sized blue head. But you get what I’m saying don’t you? Don’t think I didn’t notice your bedraggled graying face when you walked in here. You’ve been on another two hour patrol haven’t you?”

Bluestar nodded silently.

Rosetail squinted at her disapprovingly.

“I told you that you should take those in shifts! You can’t walk around the territory for hours straight then expect your paws not to fall off.”

Bluestar sighed, seeing the truth in Rosetail’s words. Her pads did sting immensely from treading on leaf litter and dozen of twigs all day.

“Okay, okay I get it now.” Bluestar meowed, blinking gratefully up at her partner. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Rosetail smiled, satisfied.

“Just looking out for my dear mate.” She meowed in a sweetly-teasing voice.

Bluestar purred. “Now I’m tempted to stay in here with you a little longer.”

“Good, because I’m making you stay here until you get a proper nap!” Rosetail jabbed Bluestar’s shoulder sharply before pressing her side against Bluestar again.

“Whatever you say,” Bluestar yawned, feeling her eyes beginning to struggle to stay open.

Rosetail purred and stroked her spine with her tail.

“What did I tell you about me always being right,” She meowed cheekily.

Bluestar snorted with mock contempt, but she felt herself smiling. “As if!”

Closing her eyes once more, the warm scent of Rosetail’s fur wreathed around her, soothing her drowsy mind.

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lilysroserealm · 1 year

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i love writing these dumbasses.

ignore the spelling mistakes this is a draft for a remake of day 1 in my fic :)

#these 2 r so fun to write #much :3's #:3 #writing #a-bluerose does writing shit #mysme #fanfic

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goodluckclove · 2 months

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Blind Trust Intro!

Hi! I'm a tumblr n00b and I'm not sure if my page updated so I'm throwing this here too! I'm Clove and i am a Write Shape with a Medium-Sized Word Pile I'm self-publishing soon! Read the pitch below! You can read the first 35 pages for NO MONEY and it would MAKE ME HAPPY!

Let's be friends? I have two more books of asexual intimacy and death-positive eldritch madness to share with you!

In this world, magic exists - either granted through birth, or achieved through effort and years of academic study. Rules and answers are hard to determine for certain, and those who claim to know what they’re talking about might have a deeper agenda in mind. All that is certain is that power exists, mainly to a minor degree, but occasionally to devastating effects. But nature has a way of balancing itself out.

Two children are born in a soul bond, meaning they are two parts of the same origin. They were meant to develop together, but something pushed them apart and forced them to develop into two separate and complete human beings. Now, decades later, they are Edgar Gallows, a recent escapee from Academic witchcraft looking to create a life for himself for the very first time, and Scott Skylark Kaufner, a vagabond from a birthright witch town with the soul purpose of finding his literal “soulmate”.

The power Scott was born with is slowly feeding off him, and time is running thin before it takes him over completely. When he finally does meet his long-lost Better Half, what will happen? Can they work out their pasts to create a future for themselves and those they care about? Or will the immense potential of their broken bond burn down the world as it so desperately wants to?

Blind Trust is book one of the Bluerose Trilogy. It’s an asexual romance and comfortcore urban fantasy with elements of trauma healing and a strong emphasis on intimacy and love in all its many forms. It contains an intersex protagonist, an agender protagonist (they won't know till book two but the egg cracks here) and two sapphic side characters. It has a taste of cosmic horror, and two characters that canonically still play Runescape.

Blind Trust will be released for purchase June 20th, but you can read the first chapter here!

#asexual #agender #writerscommunity #asexuality #aspec #asexual representation #nonbinary #intersex #queer community #self publishing #writers on tumblr #author

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asma-writes · 2 years

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Alhamdulillah, after almost three years of countless rewrites and edits, so much questioning and fears, writing sessions till midnight, wading through the publishing industry, screaming to my sister in both excitement and frustration, my first book is here!!

Thank you so much to everyone who has been there in this journey and waited for this book, I'm so excited (and terrified) to share this with you! 💛

Check out The land of dreams and nightmares on Amazon

And on Bluerose for any indian readers

#reblogs are really appreciated <3 #cant believe this is actually happening #writing #my writing #original fiction #original writing #original novels #books #booklr #indie books #indie author #the land of dreams and nightmares #writers on tumblr #asmawrites

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blueberry-writer · 2 years

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Hi Blue!

I'm new to your blog so I'm not sure whether you write headcanons. If you do, could I request some fluffy sfw dating headcanons for Sherlock and William from Moriarty the Patriot? If you can't/don't want to write it, it's totally okay.

Thank you in advance, have a nice day/night! ^^

- Blue Rose💙

Notes: Heyy BlueRose! Of course i write head canons! (actually i love when people ask me to write head canons) and I’ve been waiting for someone make this request💙😭 i love Sherlock and William sm

TW/CONTENT:sfw,fem!reader,dating Sherlock and William (separated) hc’s

Sherlock

Ok then your first meeting will probably have been at a crime scene

if he has known you as a "suspect" then he will probably be impressed by your character and perhaps even your habits since you will have to tell them exactly what you were doing during the time of the crime

In one way or another, he’ll understand what kind of person you are and he’ll fall in love with you before he asks you out on a real date that doesn’t include his work

But if you’re a cop working the case or, more excitingly, if you’re another detective working the case then expect a healthy spirit of competition from him

He’ll probably annoy you every two seconds while you’re thinking about a lead on the crime

"Oh are you thinking about those stains on the victim’s body? Needless to say dear, it was of a disease he had for a long time"

He will call you with nicknames as a couple (while you are not yet dating in that sense) just to annoy you and because he loves to see your reactions annoyed and/ or embarrassed.

"dear" and "sweetie " are the order of the day

when you two start to have real dates, these will probably be late evening dates at a bar while you talk about how the day went while drinking a glass of alcohol or juice, if you are teetotal

Or there will be long walks through the markets while Sherlock tries to spoil you a bit by buying what you want from those stalls.

watson will be the third wheel

Surely our detective will spend a lot of time with you since his interest has clearly become one of the purest forms of love for you

even if maybe at the beginning he would try to stay away from you because he has not quite clear what is this feeling that makes his heart beat hard every time you are near him

but give him time and you will see that he will be ready to live a romantic life, carefree and full of love with you

“so...i guess this is love”

William

there isn't a specific point where you two could have gotten to know each other, maybe at a gala? or maybe your first meeting was on a nice afternoon at the village

The fact is that the first thing William noticed and adored was your good heart

Helping, talking and making friends with everyone, whatever their social status is what he noticed from you.

He loves it, and he found you adorable😩

Most likely he will start a conversation with you, curious to know you better.

You will have a very pleasant conversation!

At first he didn’t think that his interest and sympathy for you would turn into love, but life is full of surprises, don’t you think?

In the beginning you'll met him for pure luck and case in the country, you two could not speak so much unfortunately, you both had your commitments after all

Once he understand his feelings for you he will start to ask you out and spend good quality time together

Perhaps the first times you were a little agitated- William is still a noble, he could have brought you in an elegant and luxurious place such as a restaurant 'for nobles'. So you knew that if he took you to one of those places you would have to do your best to feel comfortable

You were quite surprised when your dates with him will actually be quite simple and comforting

you two will breakfast at the bar with a good coffee and a croissant each or a carefree and fun picnic in the shade of an oak tree while watching the sunset while you two were feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries🍓💙

strawberries were obviously prepared by Louis to help his brother as he could

After a couple of dates and realizing that your relationship is getting serious, he’ll take you to his house to meet his brothers

It will be a formal dinner but still quite fun, William has talked a lot about you to Louis and Albert, so they knew you enough to make you feel comfortable during dinner

then you will also meet Bond, fred and Sebastian

It has become William's custom to bring you a bunch of red roses at least once a month.

He loves to see your cheeks blush every time

“They always told me that red roses are the symbol of love, the more I look at them and the more I think of you"

I hope you like it!💙

𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙/𝙤𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙! 𝙊𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜<3

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #moriarty x reader #william james moriarty #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #x reader #albert james moriarty #john watson #blueberry writer #william moriarty #william x reader

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wolverinedoctorwho · 1 year

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been thinking about what The Glass Menagerie would be like if it was set in 2023.

Laura's life would probably be the most dramatically improved. She could deal with her social anxiety by just. Making friends online. She could have a discord boyfriend. She could find a job or get a degree online. She would have a tumblr blog called "blueroses" with the title "My Glass Menagerie" that was just pictures of her glass figures and occasionally an audio post with a song from one of her dad's records (or cassettes, or CDs, or whatever).

Amanda...honestly there's like a 50/50 chance she wound wind up in a pyramid scheme, considering the whole "selling magazine subscriptions" thing. But I feel like she'd still worry about her kids finding their place in the world. She'd worry about Laura not spending enough time outside, maybe she'd have some reservations about finding Laura a husband IRL. Maybe she'd get onto Tom for being on that damn phone so much.

For Tom, in this au i'm imagining him still working his minimum-wage job, but rather than writing poems on shoeboxes he's got a blog or something to post them on. Maybe even a niche following. Honestly not much of his life would change, because the whole "working a dead-end job, living with my family, desperate to go out on my own" thing is uh. Pretty timeless. Even when he leaves at the end (we're assuming the events of the play still happen as they originally did, even if the circumstances are different) it's not quite as sad, because Amanda and Laura have a better chance at supporting themselves than women would have back then.

Jim's a weird one because I feel like his life would also stay the same, except since we're setting this in 2023 he DEFINITELY has a self-help/positivity/motivational instagram. Wannabe influencer vibes. Despite the fact that he is working at the same place Tom is, but higher up the chain (like a manager or something). Dude totally has a podcast.

Nothing needs to change with Mr. Wingfield. People still work for telephone companies and run out on their families.

The fact that social media would exist in this AU does allow for some interesting commentary. Maybe Tom has a twitter where he posts his poems? Maybe Laura got cyberbullied in high school? How would the added visibility and connection to the world affect the Wingfields, whose suffering is largely due to how isolated they are in the original play? How would the lessened limitations on women in the workplace today compared to the 20s-30s affect the plot?

(Projecting my own interests here but I also think she would relate to Bocchi the Rock. Puking on the floor on your first day of typing class 🤝 performing your first concert in a cardboard box and regularly climbing into trash cans.)

#ok to reblog #the glass menagerie #feel free to share your thoughts!! i'm coming at this from the perspective of someone playing laura in a local production #but maybe there's folks out there with a more in-depth understanding of the material who'd wanna share their thoughts?#(Projecting my own interests here but I also think she would relate to Bocchi the Rock.#Puking on the floor on your first day of typing class 🤝 performing your first concert in a cardboard box)#(i'm not SAYING she would watch anime i'm saying if she DID and she saw BOCCHI she'd go 'omg she's just like me fr!!')

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bluerose-violets · 2 years

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Head over heels

in my feels

want you to be mine

why do i stare at you all the time

looking at your gourges face

my heart quickens its pace

wishing we were together

so i can stare at you forever

Head over heels

in my feels

why can't we be a thing

i don't want the bling

i just want us to be together

you and I forever

so I can shamelessly stare

without a care

Head over heels

in my feels

let's get together

you and i forever .

N.B : Hi this is my first time posting my poetry . I hope you enjoyed it . I do not give permission for my work to be copied , this is my original poem .

Feel free to request any poems or writing (fan-fiction) that you would like to see . Thank you for reading<3

~ bluerose-violets

#poetry #love poems

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bloseroseone · 2 days

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5 Key Steps to Successfully Self Publishing Your Novel

In the ever-changing world of contemporary publishing, self publishing your novel has become a viable option for writers who want to express their ideas. Writers are no longer limited by conventional publishing routes and can use digital networks and online platforms to create their own success stories. Accept this life-changing experience as we explore the crucial procedures for launching your book on a global scale.

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You may improve the quality of your novel and make it more professional and readable by carefully editing and proofreading it. In the cutthroat world of self-publishing, this attention to detail not only improves the reading experience for your readers but also strengthens your reputation as a writer. Make the time and effort to edit and proofread your story so that it stands out in the literary world.

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Think about important components like typography, color design, and artwork to guarantee success. Your book’s category and tone should be reflected on the cover, which should also make it stand out from the competition...Continue reading

#book #book publishing #book writer #book authors #self publishing #self publishing platforms #self publication platforms #book publication #book publishing comapnies

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publishing-pitaara · 1 month

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Unveiling Success: The Rise of Amazon Bestseller Hitesh Abrol

Hitesh Abrol is a world renowned author of 3 Published books:

• Life-Planned or Unplanned

• Digital Distraction

• From Stoic to Strong: Men’s Mental health

He is known as Amazon Bestseller Author. Moreover, he bagged “Indie Author of the year-2022” from Scotland based Feedmyread community among many other Awards like Top 100 wordsmith for the year-2022, Bluersoe best Non-Fiction, Aesthetic Literary Lounge best Author, Pioneer Literary fest best Author, The Momma Clan Best Non-Fiction Author etc.

About Author Hitesh Abrol:

Hitesh Abrol hails from a small town Pathankot from Punjab. He has done his PGDBM from Symbiosys Centre of Distance Learning. He is into Pharma business. Reading and Writing are his passions. He started to write in the year 2019. With the launch of his book “Life-Planned or Unplanned”, he became the Amazon Bestseller Tag. These awards motivated him to write more and more.

The Topics like “Digital Distraction” & “From Stoic to Strong: Men’s Mental Health” make his readers hooked. All of his book received more than 4 star ratings over Amazon.

Achievements Of Hitesh Abrol:

If I talk about achievements of Hitesh Abrol Literary journey, Here are few of them:

• BEST NON-FICTION BLUEROSE BOOK AWARDS 2021

• INDIE AUTHOR OF THE YEAR-2022 FROM SCOTLAND BASED “FEEDMYREAD” COMMUNITY.

• Tagore Commemorative Honouree 2022

• Top 100 Emerging Wordsmiths in 2022

• Amazon Bestseller

• Literary Clan Awards for Best Non-Fiction • Author from The Momma Clan.

These accolades solidify his position as a highly accomplished individual in the field of literature.

About Hitesh Abrol New Journey:

Although this literary world has given so much to Hitesh Abrol but He understands the problems that the newbie’s in this noble profession have to face. So to help them in their journey, Hitesh Abrol has started a Book Coach journey, where He will help new ones and published Authors in their book writing, Publishing and marketing journey.

Anyone willing to have the one to one consultation for book writing, publishing and marketing journey, email at [email protected]. You can get the best from him and can learn from his journey.

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bluerosesonata · 7 months

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Enya (Tav OC)/Astarion- to be named, to be known

[author notes: Takes place before the invasion of Moonrise. Contains vague Spoilers for Act 2 and Astarion’s storyline.

I still have not finished the game (currently mid act 3. yes I’m in the crypt and suffering) so be kind and don’t tell me Jack shit.]

[AO3 link ]

Given everything that was going on in his life, Astarion reflected, this whole situation was a bit absurd. Here he was with a mindflayer parasite eating holes in his brain, monster hunters on his trail, a demonic contract carved into his back, working with a team of the weirdest people he had ever met to kill a necromancer that refused to die— and yet somehow, four simple words had him out in the woods, pacing, feeling the most anxious he had in weeks.

“Can we talk later?”

It was clear Enya had meant ‘alone, in private ’— and the gentle cadence of her low voice implied ‘about Us.’

Us.

A few nights ago, Enya had used that word to ask him about— well, whatever was going on between the two of them.

It was an apt, but aggravatingly simple way to describe it. Enya and Astarion. Astarion and Enya. An elf and a Tiefling. A man and a woman. Us.

If he was a normal man, maybe that’s all it would be. Just another word your lover(?) used to talk about the two of you. But he wasn’t a normal man, and the word had unexpectedly made him…ache. That he…liked it.

And that worried him.

It certainly didn’t help that just a few days ago, the whole thing with the drow lead him to tell her how he wasn’t…what people wanted him to be. How he didn’t…well, he didn’t hate sex. That would be an oversimplification of things. But it had become something he just…Did. A wretched routine for a miserable little puppet. And that he was still not quite used to being his own person.

Astarion fully expected her to be upset. Annoyed, even. But in response, Enya just said that she…cared about him. That she never wanted him to do anything he didn’t want to. She quite literally embraced him— not as pretense, not as foreplay— but held him, in a way he hadn’t been touched in…god knows how long.

It was all… too perfect.

She was too perfect.

That was what really put his teeth on edge about all of this. Because there was no way she was actually perfect. Enya was a very good liar. Astarion had seen her get away with feeding people some of the most bald-faced bullshit he’d ever heard, and had them asking for seconds. On its own, he considered this a positive trait - it made her a powerful ally, and had gotten them out of a lot of scrapes. But Enya could also have an irritatingly tender heart.

So it wasn’t impossible she’d just been paying him lip service. That she’d shown him hope and gentleness and kindness all in preparation to cruelly, completely shatter him, just like— he stopped himself, rubbing his temples.

No. That wasn’t fair.

This…wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like him. He was getting himself worked up for no reason.

No matter what happened, he told himself, he would survive this.

He always had.

From about 20-odd meters away, in the shade of a copse of trees, a shadow watched Astarion pacing, her indigo skin blending gently into the blues and greens of the wooded twilight. She sighed to herself, her pronged tail flicking in irritation. You’ve really mucked this up, haven’t you?

The very fact she could just stand here and not be noticed by him was a testament to how badly she’d messed up. He was usually quick to notice traps, and he could almost always tell when they were being watched. But now…

Why didn’t you just say something normal? Something like, ‘I want to spend some alone time with you,’ or literally anything else, she scolded herself.

Well, actually, she’d specifically decided not to say something like that because it sounded like wanting to have sex, which would be more than a little gauche right now. For all her so-called eloquence, she couldn’t find a better way to put this besides “talking later.” She absentmindedly ran a taloned finger over the silver rings set into the cusp of her ear, and bit her lip. No time like the present, I suppose. She stepped out into the evening light, and called out to him.

A bit later, they sat side by side, on a fallen log nestled into the hillside, where they had a lovely view of the setting sun. It could have been romantic, even— if the two of them weren’t buzzing with anxiety. Their respective parasites, resonating with one another’s distress, only made them even more attuned to the already obvious tension.

For a few minutes, nothing was said. They just sat there, not looking at one another— not even using the tadpoles to delve deeper, for fear of what they would see— as the sun crept lower and lower in the sky. At the same time, both broke the silence.

“So…”

“Sooo….”

The tension couldn’t sustain itself. They both chuckled and grinned sheepishly at each other, sharp canines for sharp canines.

“You’re wearing your hair loose,” Astarion observed. Enya nodded, giving a weak smile as she tucked a long strand of purplish-red hair behind her ear. Typically, her long hair was neatly rolled up, braided, and pinned into a configuration almost reminiscent of folded wings. Today, it hung wavy and loose, tumbling over her bare shoulders, framing her collarbone, partly obscuring the centipede tattoos on her cheek and shoulder.

In truth, this small change made Astarion feel even more nervous. It felt…significant. Almost like he was being tested, somehow.

What about? He had no clue. But it made him feel wary, like the two of them were dualists circling one another for an opening, or animals sizing each other up for a fight.

On top of that, Enya’s hair being loose made her long, slender neck even more appealing, and it was taking a lot of self control for him to not glance at it. He forced himself to look into her eyes— her lovely, blue-orange eyes, with sclera black as pitch— but he saw something there that made him look away.

There was affection, yes, but under that…

Guilt.

Ah. So, this is it, then.

“Can I…hold your hand?”

He offered it limply, numbly. Possibly for the last time. Sure. Why not.

Careful to be gentle with her talons, Enya held his hands in hers, gently rubbing her thumbs all over in small circles, almost like she was trying to return circulation to his pale hands.

She loved his hands. They felt somewhat incongruous with the speed and nimbleness they moved. They were not particularly slender, nor were not particularly soft or rough (unlike her fingers, callused from plucking lyre strings) but they were still strong and quick with a bow. His nails were short, unvarnished— but he clearly worked to keep them clean and buffed, which she found very charming and dandyish of him.

They were so… different from other hands she’d held in her life. Pale, of course. Always moving, always being used in conversation. Not cold, like you might expect for someone who was dead, but pleasantly cool. She liked that, since Tieflings always ran a little warmer. (Or so she’d been told.)

“So… I’m sorry for the way I called you out here.” He didn’t respond. “I just thought, given how much I know about you, you deserve to know more about me.” After all, we might not get another chance, but she left that thought unvoiced.

He blinked.

“I- erm, you…what?”

Enya grimaced.

Oh dear. I’ve broken him.

“Well, only if you want to. You don’t need to—“

He sat up straight, drawing his hands back from hers, and the atmosphere shifted rapidly. Enya watched as he opened this mouth slightly, then shut it, his face flashing through several emotions— confusion, relief, joy, irritation— before settling on indignation, brow furrowed. His hands were still pulled up and back, fingers curled, as if someone had told him to surrender with his hands in the air, and then called him something particularly offensive.

“Darling, do you have any idea what I’ve been through today because of your little theatrics? I—“ he shut his mouth promptly, possibly realizing he was about to admit he had been emotionally compromised. Instead of admitting this, he gave a little huff of a laugh, crossed his arms, and looked away, pretending to be angrier than he actually was. “Well, out with it, then. For your sake, I hope it’s interesting.”

She couldn’t help but smile, and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a direct contrast to the irritated, dismissive little wave he then gave for her to continue. Enya paused, trying to find the right way to begin.

“It’s funny. Bards typically have a story or a poem for everything and every occasion. But here I am telling my own, and I’m suddenly at a loss for words.”

“The beginning is a traditional place to start,” Astarion replied glibly. Seeing her brow furrow, he softened his tone and added, “…If that is important to you, that is.”

“No, no, you’re perfectly right,” Enya conceded. “The problem is,” she said, trying to pick her words carefully, “I…am not entirely ready to discuss some aspects of it, if that’s all right with you.” Seeing his slight frown, she added, “I’m not keeping it secret, okay, it’s just…” she made a vague, hopeless gesture. “The timing isn’t quite right.”

It was unfair of her, she knew. It was unfair to know the dark rooms of his past, to see the pain that was there, then ask that he not open certain doors inside of her. He looked pensive, then sighed.

“Could you at least promise me that whatever it is isn’t someone or something that’s going to try and kill us? Because I am quite over this camp having those come to light on a weekly basis.”

“No. In that regard, I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Her bitter smile must have said more than she thought, because his face softened.

“It’s all right, darling,” he smiled, “What’s romance without a little mystery, hmm?”

She considered it.

“Divorce, usually.” He lit up at that.

“Ohhh, now that would be novel. I’ve never been divorced.”

“Have you been married, though?”

“Now now,” he chuckled, “A gentlemen never tells.” She rolled her eyes in response, which made him laugh.

“So.”

“Yes.”

“Astarion, I….” Enya stopped, sighed. Fidgeted a bit. “My name isn’t actually Enya.” A single raised eyebrow.

“It’s not a criminal thing,” she assured him quickly, “and I have gone by Enya for a while now. It was a nickname I picked out for myself when I started working in Baldur’s Gate,” she explained with a sigh. “But I haven’t spoken my given name out loud to anyone in over a decade, and…” she trailed off. Maybe this was stupid. Why did this matter, really?

“Well,” he said, breaking through her thoughts, “I’d love to hear it, darling. Or we can just write this off as a waste of an evening. Your choice.” She pointedly ignored his little jab.

“My name- the name my parents gave me- was Lízellenya. Lízellenya Merlo.” He repeated it, softly, sounding it out, and despite herself, she felt a blush creep across her face. He asked her how she spelled it, then said it again, softer. It was strangely lovely when he said it, she thought.

“It’s a lot of syllables,” he said at last, making a face. “I can see why you changed it.” She burst out laughing.

“You always know just what to say,” she sighed, wiping away a tear. “Honestly, even as a kid, I didn’t like it very much.“

“I can only imagine. And Merlo? Like the wine?” She smiled.

“No, like a blackbird. Mehr-lo.” His brow furrowed.

“How the hell is that like a blackbird?” Enya shrugged.

“I dunno. It’s just what my dad said once.”

The two of them quietly watched the stars slowly fill the night sky.

“You know,” he said slowly, unsure of himself, “There are a lot of things I don’t know about you. Nor you about I. Perhaps we could change that. We could make a little game of it — a question for a question.”

“That’s…uncharacteristic of you,” Enya replied, suspicious. “What happened to all that stuff about mystery?” He smiled, sharp teeth gleaming in the twilight.

“Call it a…passing fancy. If you’re not interested, though—“

“No, no. It sounds…fun, actually. Maybe. As long as we make a few rules.”

“Such as…?”

“If either of us gets a question we don’t want to answer, we can pass. No digging. Just move on. Okay?” He nodded.

“Quite reasonable of you. I agree.”

She turned toward him.

“All right, Astarion. You go first.”

“Hm, well…let’s start with something simple. A little dry, maybe, but important to know. How old are you?”

“Astarion, really…” Enya chuckled.

“Ah, older than thirty, then.” Another fit of giggling. “Oh, please, that’s the only reason younger women ever get flustered about their age. I’m over 200, darling, I really don’t care. Just answer the question, please.”

“Fine, fine— I’m forty-two. Forty-three in a few months.”

“I see,” he replied crisply, “now, a follow-up question, because that means nothing to me— how long do Tieflings live, exactly?“

“Mmm, that depends— with or without an illithid parasite in their brains?” He gave her a withering look. “Okay, okay, sorry. A bit longer than humans, I think. 20 years longer, maybe 30 more. It’s not even a drop in the bucket compared to—“ she gestured to all of him, “you know. But the oldest I’ve ever met was 80.”

He was quiet a moment, taking that in.

“That’s…unfortunate,” he said eventually.

“Please don’t start acting like I’m on death’s door.”

“We are, though. All of us. Plus you’re always having us stick our necks out for some sad sack. One of these times it’s going to stick.” Enya grimaced.

“I regret agreeing to this.”

“Oh, come now. You haven’t even asked me a question yet.”

“All right,” she sighed, “What’s your favorite color?” He made that same little huff of a laugh again.

“That’s your question? Really? Anything at all, and you ask-“ he caught her gaze. “ugh, fine.” He shifted his sitting position, and sighed. “Seeing as I’m not five years old, I don’t have a favorite color.” he gave Enya a look clearly intended to be piercing, “But lately, I’ve found myself quite fond of blue.”

Enya simply stared at him, arms crossed expectantly, and raised an eyebrow.

“What, nothing? That was good! You have to admit that was clever!”

One of the things that Enya had learned about Astarion is that most of the time, if you just stared at him in silence for a bit, he would either fold like a house of cards, or work himself into a lather. Sometimes both.

“UGH, fine, goddamnit…” he muttered with a distinctive whine in his voice, “I- I don’t know! I know it’s not red. God knows I’ve had enough of red. Black? Maybe?”

“Black’s not a color.”

“The hell it isn’t!”

“It’s a neutral.”

“Oh, For fuck’s sake...” he grumbled, “well, what’s your favorite color then? Hmm?”

“Is that your next question?”

“Sure! Fine! Since it’s clearly of the utmost import that one has a favorite color.”

“Green,” she replied without a moment of hesitation, “Emerald green. But I like seafoam green and turquoise as well.”

“God. You’re insane.” Enya gave him a smug smile.

“I have been told that is a part of my girlish charm.” She crossed her arms. “My turn again, then. What’s your last name?” He cringed.

“Pass.”

“Okay. Fair. Won’t press on it.” A small, dissatisfied sigh. “Then…have you had many lovers in your life?” He gave a hiss-like exhale, his lips pressing together into a flat line. Enya realized quite suddenly she had crudely, stupidly stepped into something quite sensitive.

“Shit, Astarion, I didn’t mean—“

“Yes,” he answered, interrupting her. His eyes looked hollow and flat. “I have.” When his eyes flicked to meet hers, the intense look in them made her feel like the game had…changed. “Many. Very, very many. Does that hurt your feelings? Does that…bother you?”

He had gone very still, in a way that reminded Enya of a creature on the hunt— or was it was like an alerted deer freezing stock-still, bracing itself to flee…?

Either way, she thought, I should tread carefully.

“No, it doesn’t bother me. Is that your question for me?”

“No. I’ll ask the same of you. How many lovers have you had before me?”

That’s not really the same question, she wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes and his unnatural stillness made her think better.

“That’s…difficult to answer,” she replied slowly. The sweat was starting to bead on her neck. “Do you just mean, sexually, or…relationships?” He gave her a flat, charming smile.

“Whichever you think is more important.”

She didn’t need to roll high on investigation to know that was a trap, and they both knew it. The real question was, would she tell him? She shut her eyes and exhaled, knowing that she had gone still now, too.

“Three formal relationships. But…like you? Just the one.”

“Man or woman? Or neither?”

“Woman.”

“How long?”

“Around three years.”

“What was her name?”

Exhale.

“Pass.”

They both relaxed at the same time. Whatever had its claws in them seemed to dissolve, like someone’s concentration had broken during a spell. They sat in that quiet relief for a moment, both troubled by their own thoughts. When he met her eyes again, the look he gave her would be bordering on apologetic, if it didn’t look so pained.

“What do you mean by…’like me’?” His voice was soft. Not accusatory. Just…lost. Confused.

There was no point in lying to him. She turned back to the horizon.

“Our relationship was…intense.” Life changing. Inevitable. “She didn’t know what she wanted from me.” Until she did. “And she had her demons. It didn’t end well.” She met his eyes, silently begging him to let it go. “But that’s where the similarities end. Back then I was young, and I was stupid. That’s all.”

He wasn’t happy about it, and he knew she could tell. He wanted to ask more.

He wanted to ask, ‘what am I, to you?’

He wanted to ask, ‘am I just another episode in a long line of tragedies?’

And most of all, he wanted to ask her, ‘what are the odds that the two of us will end any differently?’

But instead of pressing, he gave her a tight smile.

“You’re still young, my dear. And judging by your plans to have us fight an immortal necromancer on his own turf, you’re still incredibly stupid.” She felt a smile tug at her lips.

“Hey. That makes you stupid for following me.” The moon had risen by now, full and bright, washing the two of them in silver.

“Astarion.” He turned to her.

She wanted to ask, ‘If we are cured tomorrow, will I ever see you again?’

She wanted to ask, ‘When I tell you everything, will you resent me for it?’

But more than anything, she wanted to ask, ‘Since we could die tomorrow, would you hold me tonight?’

Instead, she just asked, “is it okay if i kiss you goodnight?” He smiled, and she smiled back. Under the moonlight, fangs met fangs, and talons gently intwined with pale fingers.

For now, they both thought, this would do.

#im about to post SO much self indulgent fic here bro.#bg3 #bluerose-ocs #bluerose gate 3 #bluerose txt #bg3 OC x canon #tav oc #Lízellenya #Lízellenya/Astarion #bluerose writing #bg3 fic

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bluerose5 · 2 months

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Zevran: I cannot believe this! The absolute betrayal!

Astarion: Oh, stop being so dramatic, will you?

Fenris: Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black? What's going on now?

Zevran: We have been deceived, that's what.

Astarion: 🙄

Fenris: I'm afraid to ask about what.

Zevran: Well, I was simply curious about our toothy friend here. You see, we have established that you are a mercenary. I am an assassin, so I asked what profession he was in before the whole Cazador business.

Fenris: And...?

Astarion: *sighs* I was a magistrate.

Zevran: A man of the law in our midst this whole time. Can you imagine?

Fenris: Hmm... That's not too unbearable. I ran around with the Captain of the Guard during my days in Kirkwall. The true question is, was he corrupt?

[Both of them look at Astarion, who smiles sheepishly.]

Astarion: I mean, I don't remember much from those days, but it depends on what you mean by "corrupt".

[Fenris and Zevran share a look.]

Fenris: He was corrupt.

Zevran: Most definitely. You know what, on second thought, you can stick around a little longer. I'm suddenly feeling more at home than I have in days.

Astarion: Oh, joy.

Fenris: Some experiences are the same, even across different universes, I suppose.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #dragon age #da2 #dao #astarion #fenris #zevran #astarion ancunin #zevran arainai #crossover #bluerose writes #trauma elf trio

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lilysroserealm · 1 year

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Hello dear,

I want to ask you, which flower of the game you like the most/had the most impact on you?

I love blue roses now.

Lily of the valleys got my whole ass heart now. I loved them before but I didn't pay them much mind. But after Saeran's route I completely and utterly fell in love with them, they live in my mind, heart and soul rent free

Fun fact before I played rays route I don't think I even knew blue roses were a thing :P But being my blog name is literally a-bluerose, its just a little obvious :) Lily of the valley on the other hand, I really love that one. Once I wanted to get me and my friend a matching pair of lily of the valley earrings but I couldn't find any in the style I wanted :( I also know like 20 flower meanings because of rays route, things I've googled about flowers because of rays route. and writing my fanfic.

Also for some reason I named my fic 'Daylily', even though its somewhat anticlimactic because my cmc's mom is well uh....dead. and has been for years :')

#google the meaning for a daylily and you will see what i mean... :)#Thank you for the ask!#<3 #i have purple tulips rn because of spring and they r fitting :)#and also because purple is my favorite color for everything. have it in purple? yep ok i am buying it.

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goodluckclove · 22 days

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I've never really written anything serious at length at all. All I have this one story I want to get into and write every page, because I am so attached to the characters and world I've designed. Yet, I can't find myself doing so because of that attachment. I feel as don't have anywhere near enough experience to ensure I do the world that I'm so invested in justice.

I've thought doing other writing projects to learn and gain that experience, but I just can't bring myself to care about the practice beyond "if I throw random words on this page, maybe my future words for will be as cool as I want them to be"

I've got one thing I want to make and only thing only, but how do I get to the point of making that thing if meaningful practice seems so difficult?

Okay so I hope you're prepared because we definitely need to have a conversation about this as I cannot properly get into the whole deal without you being able to respond and tell me your thoughts right goddamned now. Still, I have a few pages I need to write so I can give you some insight now to consider before I try and force you to talk to me.

Different people create in different ways. Some people, I think, can direct a story from start to finish in their heads, turn it into a step-by-step outline, and use that as a guide to complete a book exactly as they planned and enjoy it. I've heard this happens so I have to assume it does, but I have never and will never be that type of person.

I love Songbird Elegies. I am absorbed in the world I created and the people that inhabit it. My Spotify algorithm is fucked because I pretty much only listen to the massive playlist I made for songs I associate with the series. At the same time, I know my own creative process enough to understand that if I get too attached to the specifics of the story it'll only harm my ability to write it productively.

There was a point where Edgar's abusive mother was supposed to find him in New Orleans and arrange to meet at Cafe du Monde. The main two get there, unsure what they'd find, and it's revealed that Scott has secretly contacted all the other Birthrights Edgar met in Bluerose to meet there too and offer emotional support. I loved the thought of Edgar, someone who has felt alone for the entirety of his life, suddenly being in the middle of a massive web of unconditional support at his most terrified.

Yeah that scene will never happen. It's on a completely different path now.

I don't want to be one of those people to sort of waggle their fingers and say how your characters have a life of their own, but also I do have a history of psychosis so like fuck it I think I'm allowed to say that. I think a lot of writers have similar experiences, and maybe some of them to the intensity that I do. I don't hear Edgar's voice in my head without my wanting to, of course, but by the time I started book two I had enough of a sense of his character to be able to listen when he said I do not want to be a few hours from where I was abused for decades anymore. It's my story, but I've done this long enough to know when to pass the reigns for a while.

If you create an entire world in your head and you get too exact, there's no room to explore. And exploring is the best part of writing, in my opinion. When I needed to practice I didn't do it by throwing unrelated words at the wall, I did it by trying to write the idea I had and adjusting it until it either worked or I lost interest for the time being. Legitimately, 13 novels in, this is what I had before I started Blind Trust:

"What if magic was like...a disability? But it was supposed to help the already disabled. But it gets appropriated by primarily neurotypical wizard-types - somehow. And some guys...fall in love...yes."

Less than a year later and that is roughly fifteen percent of the current plot. And it kicks ass.

Anyway that's how I roll and it works for me. I love my characters desperately and usually get a sense of my protagonists that boarder on the delusional. Those are my qualifications to say that the best thing someone with a mind like me could do is focus less on every detail and more on the potential that comes with the people and the premise.

And write your thing, man. Give it a shot. Experiment and don't panic too hard if your plan doesn't work. It won't be perfect at first which is good because then it could become even better.

Get ready man, we're definitely talking about this more one-on-one.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #on writing #writing #writing community #actually writing #writing asks #writing help #writing resources

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