#callum the cautious

[slugterra-twisted-ends]

The children of Arabella the Undying/the first slug healer

In order;

Sebastian the Spiteful of the Eastern Caverns

Komma the Kind of the 99 Caverns

Wendel the Wise of the European Caverns

Bryan the Brute of the Southwestern Caverns

Rhonda the Reckless of the Pacific Caverns

Callum the Cautious of the Southern Caverns

#slugterra #slugterra twisted ends #bajoterra #slugterra fanart #fanart #slugterra art #art #slugterra oc #slug healer #slugterra slug healer #arabella the undying #slugterra arabella #sebastian the spiteful #komma the kind #wendel the wise #bryan the brute #rhonda the reckless #callum the cautious

[brokenboysfrombrokenhomes]

Both, yes. They are being very careful still with showing gay men intimately and then very probably what Max and Tony are comfortable with.

Would be sweet to see maybe Ben shirtless standing at the sink, kitchen table or something and Callum embracing, hugging him from behind. Not now obviously but further down the road, to show how Ben is getting comfortable again with Callum being in his intimate space or something like that

Well, now that the previous anon reminded me of Christian and Syed, idk if they're still being cautious with such scenes.

But Tony most likely doesn't want to and that's his choice.

I hope for such a scene, it'd be so sweet.

#eastenders #ben x callum #ballum #I guess if Félix has any romantic storyline down the line we might get to see they're not cautious #Just personal preferences of the actors

[dirtytransmasc]

How would tonowari help with spider? What activities would they do together

@windhashirapiller this also answers you're ask

he's the stoic dad, so I think a lot of his love language is quiet personal time; walks on the shoreline, under the stars, one arm around his kid, telling stories from his past. watching spider sleep, one hand in his hair, nothing but love and bliss on his face. being the dad spider looks to when he's looking for recognition or admiration, and tonowari is always there to give him the proud dad smile.

very defensive of spider, but unlike ronal, instead of being an aggressive force that will make threats anytime anywhere, he is a daring and formidable force that stands behind him, daring anyone to bring harm to his boy.

when they first adopt spider he's the one to have The Talk with him. in my mind they adopt him after the neglect causes him to do harm to himself (he overworks himself, ignores his needs; he doesn't eat, doesn't drink, doesn't sleep. its when his body eventually goes out that tonowari and ronal step in), so spider is already on edge, physically and emotionally on edge, and trauma responding (pushing people away, getting aggressive to shield his weakness, expecting the worst of each and every interaction). so tonowari has to sit there and try to explain to this terrified kid, that he deserves better, that he is loved (despite feeling unlovable), that they want him. he has to console this scared child who has never truly known love. that night has forever scarred the great metakyina chief, just thinking about the look in his child's face, brings tears to his eyes. he's vowed to never, not even over his dead body, let spider feel like that ever again.

I think him being the stoic dad verbally, makes him the much more physical dad. he's always cupping spider's chin, embracing him, pressing their foreheads together (technically mask and forehead).

he speaks through his eyes, and spider has learned to read him like a book. there's always so much love and awe on his face.

he learns spider's favorite things; favorite foods, favorite types of beads for his jewelry making, favorite plants for his paints, etc. and he brings them to spider without him asking.

he was cautious with saying "I see you" or calling him son cause he knew spider had a complicated relationship with all his past father figures. when he adopts spider he does it knowing he may never bee his father in spiders heart (if anyone has seen the dragon prince, think callum and harrow; both want to be father/son so badly it is palpably painful, yet due to simple miscommunications, neither is aware of this, and actually think both parties want the opposite). so when the dam finally breaks (maybe spider gets hurt and tonowari can't contain his worry, or spider is desperate for any sort of paternal affection and he just flips out and clings to tonowari) it's devastating (but sorta in the best way possible). you'd think they're a father and son reuniting after the most trying of separations; big fat tears from both sides, tonowari won;t put spider down, spiders clinging to his father like he's gonna disappear. after that, tonowari never stops telling spider he sees him, that he loves him, that he is his son.

I have to say it, tonowari is a fishing dad, he takes spider hunting on the skimwing, just the two of them.

like ronal, he has many beads on his song chord for spider, but they are much more frequent. out of all of things in his life, nothing compares to his children. they keep him sane amongst all the duties of being chief, and with the circumstances that surround spider, its even more true. he finds any reason to add more and more beads for his children, especially spider, so when he reflects on this time in his life, it doesn't seem so bad.

he will play dumb so spider has the opportunity to teach him, he likes hearing how his son talks about things, how he thinks, and he loves the confidence it gives spider to teach someone else. Sometimes he genuinely learns things, other times he gains a new perspective; but no matter the case, its builds spider up, makes him more likely to speak within the village. (spider has adhd in my mind, and I know tonowari indulges every infodump that kid gives him, no matter how well he knows what he's talking about)

he takes spider under his wing just as he did ao'nung; he teaches him to rule, to think for the village, to be a good diplomat. he teaches the boys to work together to solve conflicts because if he gets his way, if all goes well, ao'nung will become chief with spider as his right-hand man so to speak. his boys futures are of the utmost priority to him.

#spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #spider avatar #avatar spider #ronal #ronal avatar #tonowari #metkayina #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #he loves that boy to bits #literally the proudest dad in the world #eywa forbid some one question his feelings about his son #like if someone said something about how it must be disappointing that he's human #or anything remotely close to that #all hell breaks loose #tonowari will make sure of that #spider tonowari'itan #hi'i'tsyil te fkew'weopx tonowari'itan

[eganeyes]

you're my favourite blog and I NEED more of your demarco/macon headcanons [normal][im normal]..........maybe nsfw too if you've got them

hi!!! that is soooo very sweet of you to say considering the only vibes i bring to this fandom is deranged overfilled tags and unneeded breakdowns over callum turners face 😭🫰❤️

this is my previous demacon hcs post and the is this a modern au? a post war au? a no pow au? i literally cannot tell you because i do not know is still in effect here very sorry :')

apologies for like taking A While because i really squeezed out my creative juices for this SO:

‘he fell first’ benny vs ‘he fell harder’ macon yeah

i see benny as being free with his feelings, with his affections, there isn't a single person who doesn't get a bit of his heart with them when they leave. his parents' are designers, artists, and they teach him that to create is to love and when he creates bonds he pours love and never feels left with wanting. the minute macon opens his mouth, perfectly civil in taking down people down a notch with his intelligence and an extra brand of fuck you in his voice? he's instantly enamored.

macon, far more closed off—cautious to the point of near callousness, perfectly polite and tiring of talking to new people because more often than not he's being looked down upon and invisible, he doesn't think much of these 100th boys—until bennys there with an easy grin and easier hands, at the end of the day macons left admiring at bennys unflinching steadiness and unconditional kindness.

now for more silliness:

for some strange reason (he was forced.) benny confides about his crush to bucky. which is kind of weird because he's usually closer to buck—except one random day bucky sees benny—steady handed, light fingered benny demarco—grip at meatballs fur a tad too tightly and then stumbles on thin fucking air. he follows benny's unchanging gaze to: one richard macon. from that point on benny's fucked on a biblical proportion.

why he continues to seek out love advice from someone who doesn’t even have his shit together enough to notice his best friend is as in love with him as he is and also a known manwhore (because the conversation went sideways within two sentences) he does not know. it goes a bit like this:

okay, yes, i have a crush on macon.

……oh wow did you sleep with him? was it nice?

why would you ask me that?

you’re right im sorry i just tried to act cooly supportive and that came out. i have had sex before dw.

I’m not worried bucky but thank you.

but was it?

i didn’t have sex with him jesus.

oh wow you’re really bad at this

….please self reflect.

but the talk actually genuinely calmed him down 😭 bucky purposefully winding the conversation up down and sideways so benny could focus on the fact that crushes are supposed to be fun and electric and not the end of the world, benny laughing a bit and confiding more on what he thinks of macon—god i spent last weekend with him to his kid sister's science convention. i met his entire family, what the fuck. he's so soft with his little sister, he knows three languages, he's won every science competition he's ever entered, he's watched casablanca 3 times, he knows every star in the sky and their lores—

the two start out a mini mindmapping plan out for seducing macon, but like completely shit at keeping it a secret so the entire base finds out within 24hrs. benny kind of wants to die from this but when kidd actually starts vetoing buckys plans that benny couldn't for the life of him say no to, he's thankful

do not steal a b-17 to write your confessions on the sky with smoke what the fuck is wrong with you

......blakely's advice is actually not half bad, go on get some photos taken and printed

the entire shit i wrote out on the previous hcs list is a product of this full on 100th written plan out btw, but buckys ideas are very summarily buried never to be thought of again, except for this one thing

benny ties a ribbon around meatballs neck. attached to the ribbon is a letter. inside the letter is a request for a date. a date where meatball chaperones.

macon writes back, ribbon and meatball and all.

(meatball gets used as a conversation starter so fucking often macon thinks benny birthed the dog himself ffs)

god i am so fond of the idea of benny coming by the tuskegee base (again, please pretend their bases are like half a day away) and taking the effort to meet all of macons friends, charming every inch of the base, shooting the shit with alex and daniels again (daniels being initially a staunch demacon anti bc he's overprotective is a whole other thing aaa), making nice with his superiors that they are literally gunning for macon to court the guy back

the drawing that alex did of the two in the officers club is kept carefully pressed between the pages of macon's journal. he commissions another drawing of them for benny's birthday, pressed dried flowers himself around the watercolor sketch, and wrote winding letters in the back, of wanting a future outside of planes and skies he didn't think he'd ever want with someone else. he frames it and ships it to benny, who's in chicago at the moment and is geared for a roadtrip to birmingham, alabama the day after his birthday. times it perfectly so when its the day of his birthday, benny reads it, and whatever his answer is it'll be known in two-three days time: if he does arrive at macon's doorstep with a ring he hid on the side of the wooden frame—a little puzzle that only benny could solve.

now for something a bit more nsfw but like only a few bc i embarrassed myself writing this without the cover of anonymity

do i believe that they're switches? yes.

do i believe that their sex scene mainly revolves around benny face down ass up moaning like a whore while macon drives into him with the sole intent of making benny see galaxies? also yes.

do i believe that richard wakes him up via trailing fingers up from bennys ass, spanning the width of his marked up back, and scratching at bennys hair that when benny finally wakes up its to a gasp and to ground down his hips on the bed? ....yes.

do i also believe that benny spent an inordinate amount of time just worshipping richards cock with his mouth, pushing him back down by the chest when richard tries to rise and pull him off? grinning and humming when richards spluttering and panting and keening, legs hooked around his back like a vice and hands gripping at his hair? very much yes.

will richard bring forth physics talk to the bed? .....yeah.

also: macons a grunter, bennys a moaner 🤗

i am soo sorry for this btw but also thank you for letting me yap about demacon my beloveds <33333

#demacon #benny demarco #richard macon #look at that i called him richard right at the very end #this is honestly kind of superficial bc i can't write all these emotions i have 😭 but anon have at it anyway #and also shit at physics sorry can't write shit abt that #eganeyes

[raayllum]

Rayla still being a little wary and cautious, Callum smiling and optimistic / faithful, and Ezran working his own magic to get the clam to open up

+ making it look like a primal stone was mean to me Specifically, i think

#dragons liveblogs #5x09

[zuppizup]

Fuel the Pyre - Chapter 6

Summary: For almost a decade now, life has been peaceful for the royal family of Katolis. All out war is becoming a distant memory as efforts to unite the continent continue. Open borders let more than friends in, however, and whispers of dangers lurking in the shadows are growing louder and more insistent.

Callum, Rayla and their adopted daughter Tio have bee trying to ignore the growing unease as best they can, but when the threat comes banging at their door, they can no longer turn a blind eye.

Pairing: Rayla/Callum

Rating: Mature

AO3 Link: Fuel the Pyre

“The less people know we’re leaving, the better.” Callum paused at the door, eyes drifting to Tio for a moment. Maybe he was being overly cautious, but Ezran would understand. Tio too. What was more important was safety and secrecy. “I don’t want to make a scene. We should tell people we’re going out to the countryside for the day. Maybe to the ponds? If anyone comes looking for us, that’ll send them in the opposite direction. It might give us time.”

Rayla frowned at him, nodding softly.

“What?” Stopping, Callum turned to give her his full attention. He could see how conflicted she was about this whole thing, warring with herself.

“I just really hope we’re overreacting, that’s all.” She rubbed her temple.

“Me too.” Callum opened the door, pausing in the threshold. Maybe they were fleeing for nothing. Maybe this would all blow over and they’d come back to annoyance and disapproval. He was willing to weather that storm though. “But I’d rather overreact, than the alternative.”

Read More On AO3 – Fuel the Pyre: Chapter 6

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #the dragon prince #tdp #the dragon prince fanfic #tdp fanfic #rayla #callum #tdp rayla #tdp callum #oc: tio #zuppi fanfic #fic: fuel the pyre #series: life is what happens

[king-of-fae]

Summoners Return

You were supposed to die there, feeling the blood slip through your fingers, mind getting hazier, body feeling colder. But things didn’t go according to plan. Your killer wanted you dead but Fate, or something else, has other plans for you.

Synopsis

On the continent of Ludia stands a great empire bearing the same name. Since its founding over one thousand years ago, it has become an empire rich with wealth and culture. Its most prominent feature, The Institute of Magic, has served to teach Gifted to control their powers. However, not everyone sees the Institute as the beacon of hope they portray it as. You were brought to The Institute 15 years ago, but nobody would tell you why. After all, you can’t use magic.

Despite that, you remain trapped withing the confines of the main branch of the Institute. You aren’t the only one stuck here, though. Your fellow student, Callum, has been with you even while the others move on and leave you two behind. But after 15 years of imprisonment, you and Callum uncover secrets both old and new​ that threatens your lives.

Find a way to expose the dark secrets that led to your attempted murder. Ally yourself with a powerful demon, a cynical nomad, an enigmatic witch, a reluctant bard, a dragon scion, and a half-dragon healer.

| DEMO | PINTEREST |

Ask rules

Features

Customize your Summoner!

Male, female, non-binary (Custom pronouns available!)

Hair color/length, eye color, height, etc.

Personality

Woo powerful people!

Uncover dark secrets!

Running from the authorities!

Content

This game is recommended for players 18+ for themes of violence, murder, traumatic experiences and other serious topics. This list will be updated as needed.

ROs

Evie (she/her)

Personality: Outgoing and optimistic

You weren’t expecting a demon to have such a bubbly personality. Upbeat, and filled with unbridled optimism, Evie is here to help you survive and bring back the Summoners so that her people can reconnect with the mortal realm. But never forget, Evie is far more powerful than she may seem.

Ignis (he/him)

Personality: Sardonic and stubborn

A skilled fighter with both magic and sword, Ignis is not one to be taken lightly. His nomadic lifestyle has led him to you, and he seems keen to help you out. He claims to know about Summoners and what may have happened to them. There does seem to be something off about his story though...

Vex (they/them)

Personality: Composed and mysterious

As a favorite among spirits Vex receives visions from them, telling the witch things of necessity. It seems that these spirits are eager to see the Summoners return to Ludia. Vex has made it clear that they don’t fully trust you, but if you prove yourself to them, maybe they’ll open up to you more.

Azzy (he/him)

Personality: Cautious and creative

Azzy hasn’t told you much about himself. All you know is that Azzy isn’t his real name, and he has connections in the Capital you need. Despite his reluctance, circumstances have led him to help you on your journey. There are times when you get the sense that returning to the Capital is harder for him than he lets on.

Maldovah (she/her)

Personality: Confident and loyal

Dragons have remained in solitude amongst the mountains since Ludia was founded. However, it seems that the dragons have decided that now is the time to bridge the distance, and Mal is eager to do just that. Is it fate or just luck that she and her half-brother Viik joined your team?

Viiknah (he/him)

Personality: Friendly and inquisitive

Nobody really knew that dragons and humans could have children, but there’s no denying Viik’s heritage. After spending most of his life living in seclusion, he’s eager to leave and learn more about the world that remained out of his reach. He joined his half-sister Mal on her quest into Ludia to see what he's been missing out on.

Lore (more coming soon)

Elves (Part 1, Part 2)

Dragons

Witches (Part 1, Part 2)

The Gifted

Essence

More soon...

#interactive fiction #summoners return #wip #twine wip #fantasy #updated

[foggytastemakercreation]

A Child is Freer Than a King

As Ezran's council gathered in the throne room following Aaravos's defeat, the room erupted in jubilant celebration. After years of struggle, the Startouch elf’s reign of terror had finally come to an end.

King Ezran embraced his council members with infectious enthusiasm, pride shining in his youthful features. “We did it!” he grinned.

Soren clapped his sister Claudia on the back, pride shining in his eyes that she had finally chosen the right path.

"We couldn't have done this without you," the young king said. "Your magic helped turn the tide."

Claudia shifted, wariness creeping into her smile. Amidst all the camaraderie, she was distinctly aware of the guards flanking the room, hands on their weapons. She caught the council members shooting her cautious glances when they thought she wasn't looking. One good deed could not erase her past sins.

Then Soren swept his sister up in a rib-cracking hug. “You really came through!” Claudia basked in her brother’s whole-hearted acceptance and Callum’s fond smile, the Corona of the Heavens humming with energy on his head. For now, she was home.

As Soren plopped down beside her, regaling her with an exaggerated re-telling of the battle, while Callum reminisced fondly about their adventures, she allowed herself to take in the unconditional love of her brother and dear friend. For this moment at least, she felt the flickering sense of home.

In the midst of the cacophony, Claudia noticed Callum slip away, almost unobserved. As he eased open the balcony doors, a gust of night air swept into the room, making the torches sputter. Frowning, Claudia watched him step outside, his figure receding into shadows.

Moments later, Ezran detached himself from the party. Claudia marked the way the young king's cheeks were still round with baby fat, so at odds with the anxiety deepening the creases on his forehead. With a discretion belying his years, Ezran made his way towards the balcony, shutting the doors behind him.

Claudia edged closer, straining to glimpse the two through the narrow glass panes. Callum stood with his back towards her, hands spread beseechingly while Ezran paced agitatedly. Even with the doors closed, Claudia could see Ezran's lips shape around urgent words, his expressions fluctuating rapidly between confusion, anger and distress.

Finally he stepped towards Callum, throwing his arms fiercely around his brother. Claudia saw Ezran's slim shoulders shake with muffled sobs. Callum held the boy king tightly, bowing his head over Ezran's own in profound grief. Watching the two, Claudia felt her stomach knot itself into tense coils. This picture of vulnerability was at complete odds with the euphoria behind her.

She wrapped her arms around herself, goosebumps rising over her skin despite the room's warmth. Something was terribly wrong. What had passed between the princes to transform joy into sorrow? A premonition gripped Claudia that whatever Callum had told Ezran would change everything.

After Ezran departed, Claudia joined Callum outside.

"So..." she began lightly, "What was that about?"

Callum turned to her, and for the first time, she saw the High Mage he had become – standing aloof, hands behind his back, jawline hardened. But his eyes were still kind. "It's good to be on the same side again," he said.

Claudia let out a relieved chuckle. "Who would've thought after...everything. But I'm glad too."

A shadow crossed Callum's face. "Claudia, you have tremendous talent. I think it's time you used your magic to help people - starting with Katolis. Which is why..." He listed his staff and held it out to her. Claudia's throat tightened.

"That staff belonged to that Sky mage on the Storm Spire," she whispered. “Didn’t it?”

Callum's gaze was solemn. "Yes. When you and Ibis fought, it set in motion a series of terrible events," he said quietly. "After Terry took Ibis's life, this staff was given to me. But with the Corona of the Heavens, carrying a Sky mage's staff kinda feels redundant."

He ran his fingers over the intricate runes carved into the ancient wood. "I understand now that the past cannot be changed. But the future holds possibility for healing."

Callum held the staff out to Claudia, palm upturned in offering. "Your actions helped cause Ibis's death. But maybe, it feels right that you take his staff, and use it to help fix what was broken. As the new High Mage of Katolis.”

Claudia took an involuntary step back, gripping her elbows. "Callum, I can't. What I did-"

"-Is in the past," he finished gently. "You've been given a second chance. Make the most of it."

She accepted the staff with trembling hands. A bittersweet tide of hope, regret and purpose washed over her. She would spend her life striving to become worthy of this honor.

"Thank you," she rasped.

Callum placed a hand on her shoulder. "There's no one else I trust with this duty. Or my brother."

Puzzled, Claudia opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but Callum continued.

"Helping Ezran has been the honor of my life. But now destiny lies elsewhere." His gaze turned distant, as though beholding visions only he could see.

Before she could summon any response, Callum gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "I know you will rise to meet this challenge," he said softly.

Then he turned and slipped back inside the throne room, leaving Claudia alone on the balcony with turbulent thoughts swirling through her mind, the newly bestowed staff resting heavy in her hands.

***

Rayla noticed Callum's uncharacteristic silence as he led her by the hand through the winding halls. His strides were purposeful but his shoulders slumped under some unseen weight. Puzzled, she searched his downcast eyes but found them opaque.

At last, they reached the secluded balcony by Ezran's chambers. The moon bathed Callum's features in gentle light as he turned to face her, sharp shadows carving hollows under his cheekbones. Apprehension gnawed at Rayla's insides.

"What's going on?" she asked, forcing brightness into her tone. "We won! Aaravos is finished, the war ended, so now..." She faltered briefly before continuing hopefully, "Now we get to start our life together, just like we always talked about. Right?"

Callum was mute, staring at some distant point beyond her shoulder. The silence swelled between them until Rayla could bear it no more. She reached out and turned his face toward him, meeting his anguished eyes with her own growing alarm.

"It...it is over," she faltered, "isn't it, Callum?"

His face was all the answer she needed. Rayla's hand dropped away as foreboding and grief clenched her heart in icy fingers. Something was terribly wrong.

Callum stared down at the land stretching endlessly before them. "I wish I could say it was." He lifted his eyes to meet hers, agony etched on his features. "When we finally struck down Aaravos, the other Startouch elves didn't see it as a happy ending. They were always terrified of humans possessing magic, and now this proved they could actually be harmed by us."

He relayed what the Celestial elf Astrid had confessed to him. That the Startouch elves would perceive Aaravos's defeat as a threat to their power, and seek to snuff out the human race's magical abilities.

"The Starscraper needs a king," he finished softly. "Someone has to protect Xadia from whatever comes next. And thanks to this..." He raised the glowing Corona of the Heavens circled around his head. "...that duty falls to me now."

"How long?" Her voice caught on a sob, as she surely knew the answer in her heart. "How long will you be gone? A few weeks? A month?"

Callum wrapped her in his arms, tears streaking both their faces. "The duties of a Starscraper king is everlasting," he whispered. "As eternal as these skies stretching vastly beyond sight or measure...” He pulled back to gaze into her eyes, love and sorrow intermingling. “But so too will my love for you endure, until stars rain down from the heavens bringing us together once more."

Their kiss was long and achingly sweet. Then Callum stepped back, magic already swirling around him. He spared one last smile for Rayla. "May we meet again among the stars."

“I love you, Callum,” she whispered. “So much.”

Blazing light erupted from Callum's back, unfolding into glorious white feathery wings that fanned high above his head. Their radiance washed his features in otherworldly brilliance as he rose slowly into the air. He looked like one of the celestial immortals of myth come to life.

Heart cracking, Rayla stretched one hand upwards as if to pull him back down through the force of her yearning alone. But Callum hovered just out of reach, sadness and resolve etched on his face.

"I will always love you," he vowed, his words resonating with the weight of prophecy. Then he turned his gaze to the horizon beyond. His wings swept down powerfully, launching him skyward.

Rayla watched through a veil of tears as he flew higher, like a fallen star returning to the heavens. Just as he crossed the moon's glowing arc, the air before Callum shimmered like a heat mirage. A portal appeared, golden light spilling from its depths.

Callum arrowed towards that radiant gate. Right as he entered its event horizon, he glanced back one last time. Across the infinite distance, his eyes found Rayla's.

In them, she read eternity - endless love entwined with unimaginable grief. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, he vanished as the portal collapsed in on itself with a sound like a sigh.

Ezran hurried to Rayla’s side but the elf did not appear to register his presence. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she gazed up and up. Ezran followed the desolate track of her eyes. Somewhere past the blanket of clouds and darkness, the stars were emerging in a glittering trail leading towards infinity.

The journey to the Starscraper passed in a blur. When Callum landed at the tower’s peak, weariness and heartache weighed on him like the heavy mantle of kingship he was destined to bear alone.

As he sank onto the opalescent throne, the Corona hummed with energy, synced to the rhythms of the cosmos surrounding him. From his lonely perch he could see the world below bathed in dusky shadows, the lights of Katolis castle flickering like earthbound stars.

Callum wondered if Ezran was watching the night sky, taking comfort in the light of his brother’s new home glowing down at him. He wondered if Rayla was tracking the constellations, taking solace in the reminder of Callum’s enduring love.

“A child is freer than a king.” King Harrow imparted those words to Callum on his last day alive. An observation, he had thought, but now knew it was also a warning. One last burden for Callum to shoulder when the time came.

As the stars spun slowly overhead, their glittering forms cold and remote, Callum grieved all he had lost. His home, his love, his freedom. The price for being the guardian of Xadia.

Yet as loneliness threatened to overwhelm him, King Callum gazed upward through eyes blurred with tears. Somewhere across the infinite gulf of space, the constellations watched over those he cherished under the same boundless sky. The power of love and hope shining eternally as the beacon to guide his reunion with those he loves.

(Honestly felt inspired after reading The Snake by @jelzorz, so gotta give credit where credit is due 😊 ).

#callum #claudia #ezran #soren #rayla #rayllum

[blutopaz15]

For the Rayllum ficlet request in honor of your anniversary (congrats btw), how about Callum playing with Rayla's new hair?

sure thing, friend! it got sad i'm sorry still a part of my soft/fluffy/spicy rayllum reunion ficlet series! related ficlets: one two three four five six rated T hope you enjoy, arnie!

It’s so late, and Rayla doesn’t want to sleep…but it’s getting hard to fight it.

It hadn’t been hard at all until this last time they’d found themselves horizontal. They’d been so caught up in the rush of sheer delight at being together again—all awkward nerves and newfound intimacy and helpless giggling—that sleep hadn’t even been a possibility before now.

But the rush is softening and it’s getting more and more difficult to stay awake, especially with Callum’s fingers in her hair, buried in the strands of her braid, tracing along the base of her horns, running across her scalp…

It’s all she can do, really, to keep her eyes open despite how heavy with sleep she feels, but she can’t bear to not look at him after so long apart. He’s just so handsome, with those bright green eyes staring back at her, the tufts of messy brown smooshed against the pillow, the way that the angles of his face have matured to sharper edges…

She loves him so much, and…she knows he loves her too, but believing it is another matter.

It feels just too much like a dream, and falling asleep will mean it’s over. 

They’ll wake up, and then…who knows if they’ll have anything this perfect again? It won’t just be them anymore, and then they’ll have to leave, and who knows if he’ll even want this again?

He speaks and she watches how his lips shape the words, how his eyes flicker across her face, how his fingers flex when he reaches for her. “Your hair got messed up.” 

“I wonder why that could be,” Rayla breathes, managing a lazy, sleepy chuckle at all of the fooling around that’d managed to loosen the stray strands he was tucking away, his fingertip tickling against the tip of her ear.

“I can think of a few reasons,” Callum says, smirking and snickering, before threading his arms around her tired body. “Here, sit up.”

She yawns but humors him, sitting up slumped while he scoots close, settling with his shins on either side of her hips. “If you take it down, you have to put it back up too, you know,” she says as he digs in her bun for the end of her braid.

“Okay,” he agrees. Lips just under her ear, Callum unwraps the long plait holding her hair up and off her neck, and her hair falls. He buries his nose at her temple, his arm looped around her middle…and being held like that after so long alone is just so nice. 

He’s so nice.

Too nice. 

“I’ll fix it in the morning,” he says.

She tells herself that she’s just tired—he’s given her no reason to dread everything else that the morning will bring quite as much as she is—but she’s glad he can’t see how her eyes water.

“Will we still be like this in the morning?” she asks, swallowing hard at the prospect of losing this, their little pocket of perfect bliss.

Slowly, he starts pulling apart her braid, his hands cautious and thoughtful. “What do you mean?”

“Happy.” 

He knows she’s crying now, she’s sure, from how he pauses to touch her back.

“It’s just that you haven’t forgiven me yet—” Her voice cracks and shakes: somehow the words feel so much more vulnerable than anything else has. “—and I’m afraid you’re going to decide that you shouldn’t forgive me, and then you’re going to regret all of this, and—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Callum abandons her hair to squeeze tight around her waist again instead, his lips landing on her cheek. “I am not going to regret this.”

“You don’t forgive me, though,” she adds, vision flooding with tears, her chest heaving out a ragged, single sob that spirals to a second, and she feels so pathetic that she can’t catch her breath. “You shouldn’t forgive me,” 

“I…I will forgive you, Rayla.” The words come slowly, and his hands are just as unrushed as he weaves one big braid, juggling the three sections of hair with gentle tension. “I just…I need time, and we need to talk—actually talk,” he explains, and she feels her cheeks flame. 

She knows this—she does—that that’s what he needs. Time and talking had been what she’d always thought she’d come home to; she hadn’t even dared to imagine sex and silliness like they’d just had. Of course it feels too good to be true.

“But I can still love you even if I can’t forgive you yet.” Callum goes on, saying what he’s already shown, what she’s already seen...what she already knows, even if it’s hard to believe. “I do. I love you, and…you did this because you love me.” 

His hands still at the bottom of the braid he’s made and he draws his own shaky breath as he knots the end in place—

“I swear, Rayla, I know that your heart was in the right place.” 

—and she’s sure he’s crying now too.

“But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt me.”

She’s right, she finds, when she turns to him. He’s done with her hair and his face is wet with tears, and even if he does forgive her…how can she forgive herself?

He’s given her everything, and…all she’s ever done is hurt him.

“I’m sorry, Callum, so, so sorry.” He lets her knock him backward, and she’s not sure whose embrace is tighter, but he cradles her head to his chest, and even his hugs are better than hers, she thinks, crying again at how he’s the one comforting her. “I love you so, so much.”

“I loved you then, and I’ve loved you all along,” Callum whispers, gathering her up close, breathing the words against her hair. “I love you now, and I’ll love you tomorrow. There’s nothing you could do, Rayla, that would make me stop. I promise.”

She cries until she can’t anymore, and even when she’s done—even when she’s given in and drifted off to sleep—he’s still going on, his voice echoing the same refrain in her dreams.

He loves her.

She knows it, even if she can’t quite believe it.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #ficlet requests #season 4 ficlets #it got angsty oops #call it emotional hurt/comfort :') #enjoy friends!! <3

[nautiscarader]

For the pairing post:

Rayla, Callum, Claudia from The Dragon Prince

Who is louder?

All of them could compete for that title - Rayla's temperament guarantees she's loud, proclaiming love for her lovers, Claudia's screams will often turn into spells she'd subconsciously cast, and Callum... well, his voice might have gotten deeper, but he still moans high-pitched when his girls go down on him at the same time.

Who is more experimental?

Claudia, and not just with bringing magic to bedroom. Her unorthodox mind twists ideas will as the bodies and positions of the three, sometimes just to see if they are physically possible.

Who takes more risks?

Rayla and Claudia - Callum is the cautious one, not just because he doesn't want to get caught. But with the twos advances becoming bolder and bolder, it would be a matter of time before they get caught.

Do they fuck or make love?

Depending on situation - if the Moon is full,Rayla will embrace her nature and ride Callum until she drains his balls, Claudia can use plethora of her aphrodisiacs to do the same... And then there are lazy Sundays when they just cuddle, slowly kissing that turns into triple worship of each other's bodies, interrupted with wine and jokes.

Lights on or off?

On - how else would Callum sketch his girls naked and leaking his royal seed?

Who is more likely to be caught masturbating?

Claudia - after all, she has been caught by Callum, when he ventured into a section of the library only they visited, and found Claudia doing something else that reading...

Who is more likely to suggest a threesome?

It was a mutual decision - two kisses turned into three, three into a shared one, and before they knew it, the young adults were undressing each other, pursuing desires they held off...

Has either stolen the other’s underwear?

Claudia stole Rayla's, but only when she was to wear her royal dress for the first time, and she whispered about it to Callum a minute before their dance.

Who comes first?

Depends who gets to be on top - each of the three have achieved a big "O" first if the other two are determined.

Who is better at oral and who prefers it?

Claudia would be best at both sucking Callum's cock and licking Rayla's pussy. Naturally,Callum is more than happy to get double blowjobs, but the girls love when he adds just a lil' of wind magic when he goes down on them.

Who is more submissive?

Callum - with two powerful ladies he often finds himself at the bottom of their triangle, or with one girl pushing his head to the other one's sensitive places.

Who usually initiates things?

Again - each one had their moments, but most often it is either Rayla or Claudia, sneaking hints of various subtlety, ranging from lecherous looks to hands-in-pants...

Who is more sensitive?

Rayla with the area around her horns - a difficult, but rewarding to please.

Who has the most patience?

Callum - his days of studying and training prepared him for challenges far greater than magic - and the girls agree when he goes down on one of them, while fingering the other.

Which kinks do they share?

Claudia and Rayla share affinity for bondage - typical or magical.

#raYDIUM #lemon #aged-up characters and all that #it only took me10 days

[thatartiststudios999]

Fic update #???

As the Argo II glided over the ancient city of Rome, the team gathered on deck to plan their approach to The Colosseum.

Leo, his hands flying across the controls, looked up at Jason and Callum, “Hey, guys, how about we get a bird’s-eye view first? Callum, you’ve got those mage wings, right? And Jason, your flying skills are top-notch. Scout out The Colosseum from above, see if there’s anything unusual before you all head down.”

Jason nodded, “Sounds like a plan. What do you think, Callum?”

Callum considered for a moment before replying, “It might give us a strategic advantage and help us prepare for what lies ahead. Let’s do it.”

Before Callum summoned his mage wings, Rayla offered a cautious plea, “Be safe, you two.”

Assuring her with a smile, Callum replied, “We’ll be fine, A mhuirnín. We’ll be back before you know it.” He planted a quick kiss on her cheek before invoking his mage wings with a confident incantation, “Manus, Pluma, Volantus!” and soaring down to the Colosseum alongside Jason.

Observing this, Piper remarked, “I don’t recognize that language.”

Rayla chuckled, blushing slightly, “It’s Moonshadow Elf dialect; it means ‘darling.’”

Sadie couldn’t help but smile. “Smooth one you got there.”

Rayla responded with a confident grin, “Oh, I know.”

True to his promise, Callum and Jason returned, their expressions a mix of caution and concern. The team gathered around them, eager to hear their assessment.

“It’s just like before,” Callum shared, his voice carrying an undertone of unease. He exchanged a glance with Rayla, who held his hand in silent support. “Eerily quiet and vacant. We didn’t see anyone or anything unusual, but it feels off.”

Piper frowned, concern etched on her face. “Off how? Like Luxor off?”

Jason chimed in, “Yeah, similar. It’s like the atmosphere itself is holding its breath, waiting for something. I couldn’t sense any imminent danger, but it’s unsettling.”

Carter, now back in human form, shared a look with Sadie. “Well, we better be ready for anything. Luxor was just the beginning, and I doubt Rome will be any different.”

Rayla nodded, her eyes flickering with determination. “Let’s stick together and stay sharp. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

The group prepared to descend into the Colosseum, each hero taking their designated role. Carter and Sadie transformed into birds, wings spread wide. Rayla clasped onto Callum, his crimson mage wings formed. Jason readied himself to carry Piper.

Leo offered a final word of encouragement, “Good luck, guys. Bring back some cool Roman souvenirs or something!” With a mix of determination and caution, they all took flight, descending toward the entrance of the Colosseum.

As they landed at the walkway leading to the entrance, a hushed stillness enveloped the Colosseum, the absence of statues standing out immediately. Jason scanned the area, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s like a ghost town. See what we meant?”

Sadie, having cast a brief magical scan, nodded in agreement. “This is bizarre. I expected some resistance.”

Piper chimed in, looking around with a puzzled expression. “No welcoming committee, huh? Not even a single ghostly apparition?”

Rayla, her hand firmly in Callum’s, couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease. “It’s too quiet, and that usually means trouble.”

Callum, sensing the shared apprehension, added, “Let’s stay alert. There’s something off about this place.”

With a collective nod, they cautiously proceeded through the ruined walls, the echoes of their footsteps resonating in the eerily deserted Colosseum.

They ventured inside through the ruined walls, discovering a newly refurbished floor covering the once-battleground tunnels.

Carter observed the changes, remarking, “ I heard they recently rebuilt a platform here. Strange timing for renovations.”

The team moved forward, perplexed by the absence of any hostile encounters. Callum furrowed his brow, contemplating the unsettling silence. “Should I cast the moon spell?” he pondered aloud, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, wondering if the illusionary magic might unveil hidden threats.

Callum drew up the rune for the spell and uttered, “Historia Viventum!” A serene blue aura enveloped the Colosseum, momentarily giving an illusion of calm. However, just like before, the tranquility twisted into an unsettling red hue, casting a haunting atmosphere over the ancient structure.

The corrupted specters materialized around them, their ghostly forms haunting the Colosseum. Among them, Roman gladiators and demigods from the war against the Giants emerged. One figure, Michael Varus, stood out to Jason, igniting memories of betrayal and a stabbing that left a lasting scar.

Jason clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing at the spectral manifestation of his past.

“Michael Varus,” he muttered, his voice tight with suppressed anger. Piper’s tension mirrored Jason’s, the memories of healing him after the attack flooding back.

Callum, sensing the rising tension, spoke up, “These illusions are powerful, but we can overcome them together. Focus on the fact that they’re not real.”

Carter summoned his staff, determination in his eyes. “Let’s deal with these illusions and proceed. We can’t let them control us.”

Rayla, her grip tightening on Callum’s hand, nodded. “Together, we face them and move forward.”

Their spectral assailants lunged forward, their ghostly forms carrying an eerie determination. Callum summoned his combat magic, creating barriers to protect his allies. Rayla gracefully danced through the illusionary attacks, her dual blades slashing with precision.

The battle unfolded, each hero confronted their own illusions, memories intertwining with the present. The Colosseum, once a silent witness to countless battles, now echoed with the clash of spectral foes and the determined voices of those who refused to be controlled by their past.

As the spectral figures closed in, Piper and Jason found themselves facing echoes of their personal struggles. Jason confronted the ghostly apparition of Michael Varus, who sneered, “You couldn’t protect your friends, Grace.” The words stung, but Jason steadied himself, summoning the power of the winds to push back the illusion.

Piper, on the other hand, faced a haunting manifestation of the moment she healed Jason after the attack. The specter echoed her doubts, “You couldn’t save him, McLean. You’re not strong enough.” Piper gritted her teeth, drawing strength from the memories of their shared victories.

Carter and Sadie, side by side, unleashed magical attacks on the corrupted specters. The air crackled with energy as the siblings coordinated their efforts, a seamless fusion of magic and combat.

Jason summoned the winds, creating gusts that disrupted the ghostly illusions. Piper’s charmspeak echoed, disorienting the specters and momentarily weakening their attacks. She focused on the memory of healing Jason after the stabbing, channeling her strength into overcoming the haunting images.

As the battle raged on, the Colosseum echoed with the clash of illusions and the resilient determination of the heroes. Callum, focused on dispelling the illusions, cast a purification spell, “Relinquere Illusio!”

The Moon Magic combating the corrupted red aura. The Colosseum began to shift back to its natural state, the illusions dissipating like shadows in the morning light.

Breathing heavily, the heroes regrouped, their faces reflecting a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Callum looked at his companions, “We faced your past head-on and prevailed. This trial is about overcoming illusions, and we did just that.”

Rayla smiled, leaning against Callum, “I guess our experiences in Luxor prepared us for this.”

Piper nodded, “Let’s continue exploring, now that we know what we’re up against.”

But before they could discover anything more about the eerie battlefield, a low hum resonated through the Colosseum. The heroes turned their attention to the center, where a pedestal slowly rose.

The heroes stood in awe as the pedestal ascended, revealing the second key. It hovered in mid-air, radiating a warm copper glow that contrasted with the eerie atmosphere of the Colosseum. Callum, ever curious about magical artifacts, couldn’t help but express his amazement.

Callum marveled, “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day. A floating pedestal with a key on top. Magical, and yet oddly unsettling.”

Rayla teased, “I thought you loved magical oddities, Callum.”

He chuckled, “True, but it’s the unsettling part that keeps me on my toes.”

Jason stepped forward to examine the inscriptions on the second key. “Let me see if I can decipher this one.” He squinted at the Latin text, mumbling the words to himself before finally revealing, “Key of Greco-Rome, Kingdom of Many Gods, Allow safe passage through The Ways.”

Piper pondered, “Greco-Rome? Many Gods? What could that mean?”

Sadie, intrigued, added, “And ‘The Ways’—it’s the same as the last key.”

Carter joined the conversation. “Greco-Rome was the term for combining the two ancient civilizations, maybe it’s because you’re a son of Jupiter and Piper is a daughter of Aphrodite. Roman and Greek.”

Callum, absorbing the information, interjected, “So, these keys seem to be tailored to our backgrounds or powers somehow?”

Rayla nodded, a frown crossing her face. “It’s like they’re tapping into our specific connections.”

Jason, still focused on the key, added, “But what does ‘Kingdom of Many Gods’ imply? Is it referring to the Pantheon?”

Piper, considering the possibilities, said, “Maybe it’s not just about our parentage. It could involve the broader spectrum of gods from different mythologies.”

Sadie, intrigued, mused, “If that’s the case, the keys might represent a unity of various divine influences.”

Carter, with a hint of skepticism, pointed out, “Regardless, we have two keys now, and we need to figure out what The Collector wants with them.”

With a collective nod, they decided to head back to the Argo II. The journey back to the ship was filled with speculation about the keys, their purpose, and the enigmatic Collector.

Once on board, Leo greeted them with a quizzical look, “Did you find anything interesting?”

Piper exchanged glances with the others before explaining, “We found a second key. This one seems to be linked to Greco-Roman mythology.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, “Greco-Roman, huh? That’s a twist. What’s the plan now?”

Carter took charge, “We need to gather more information, understand these keys, and figure out The Collector’s game.”

Sadie added, “And we still don’t know what’s next. We need to be prepared for anything.”

Callum, deep in thought, concluded, “Let’s regroup and plan our next move. Whatever The Collector has in store, we’ll face it together.”

That's the last bit of Chapter 6, only 8 chapters left!

#rayllum #tdp rayla #tdp callum #hoo jason #hoo leo #hoo piper #kane chronicles carter #kane chronicles sadie #tdp #fic: let the games begin #let the games begin au

[kradogsrats]

Ghost (Fic)

a.k.a. “Rayla Enters the Bodyswap AU and is Not Having a Good Time, also Maybe the Actual Plot Starts?”

Quick recap of the AU situation, since it’s getting hefty:

Harrow agreed to the soulfang body switch with Viren

Viren died the way he lived: like a gigantic drama queen (also the primal stone was destroyed)

Callum and Rayla didn’t meet, and Ezran didn’t find the egg

Claudia is now High Mage, and has secret possession of the egg, a cautious rapport with Aaravos, and Callum as a recently-acquired apprentice 

Harrow, meanwhile, has a lot of feelings and is following them toward peace with Xadia

—

Claudia learned a great deal about Moonshadow elves, after… after. When they first returned to the castle, she spent days picking through the wreckage of the tower, working under the nervous watch of guards worried over the structural integrity of burnt support beams. She had collected and examined the warped and melted weapons and the remains of fine leather armor. She had found the five unblemished, moon-white cords still looped around charred bones—one per corpse. 

It wasn’t enough, so she read everything she could get her hands on, then sent birds to Evenere and Duren for more. She read about their assassins’ methods—near-invisibility beneath the full moon, unique weapons and combat styles that harmonized in pairs but disrupted any organized defense. She read about the sacred oath they made to slay their target, and the way they were bound to it.

The five white cords in her father’s—her workroom, resistant to every cutting tool and spell for severing she had tried, meant two things: the assassins’ task had been left undone, and there was someone out there who might come back to finish it. Claudia would be ready for them.

It was still almost purely luck that she caught the girl.

She had taken to walking the ramparts of the castle’s curtain wall after dark, hoping the air would clear her head after hours spent in High Council meetings, followed by more hours going over spellwork basics with Callum in the upper workroom, followed by even more hours down in her father’s sanctum with Aaravos. Up before dawn and awake until well after dusk, sometimes she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the sun. 

She was especially agitated that night. Aaravos had greeted her earlier with a gift—the caterpillar-like creature he spoke through had spun from its silk a thin disc, about the size of Claudia’s palm, feather-light but solid. A lens, for you to see clearly things that might otherwise go unnoticed, Aaravos had said, with his ever-present half-smile. The threads of silk were less dense toward the disc’s center, allowing her to peer through it—though tilting it slightly in her hand shifted the spaces from translucent to a disorienting void-black. Held before her face, she could see the room as if through watery glass, colors dimmed and details smudged. Everything was dulled save for the frame of the mirror—each raised rune along its border blazed with a different color, shifting and weaving in a rainbow of light.

Claudia was young, but she was not a fool. A being like Aaravos only gave gifts because he would expect something in return, sooner or later. His attitude of benevolent service was a clear ruse, an attempt to trick her into stacking up favors he would one day call in. She had no idea what Aaravos wanted, from her or otherwise, and no sure way to find out short of walking straight into his arms. But she had taken the lens.

Later in the afternoon, she had experimented a bit more with it—the more concentrated reagents in the workroom shimmered with threads of color, her father’s staff glowed with a pulsing iridescence of purples. She wanted badly to see what it could expose of the dragon egg, but reluctantly held off on that exploration. She knew Aaravos’s little minion could listen for him as well as speak, so it stood to reason that anything she saw through the lens would be revealed to him, as well. She’d have to get a pouch for it, to keep away prying eyes on both ends.

She had just stepped out onto the east wall from the corner watchtower, lost in thoughts about lenses and secrets and inscrutable elves when she felt… something. An odd prickle on the back of her neck, like the subconscious awareness that an object in a cluttered room had been moved when it should not have been. It was a feeling she associated with the presence of unknown magic. The long stretch of battlements ahead of her was deserted, without even a guard in sight. 

Her hand went to her satchel, and closed around the lens. She drew it out slowly, then held it up and turned it this way and that, as if examining its details in the moonlight. The shifting angle let her glance through it to scan the rampart walkway ahead of her. In the dimmed image of the lens, she saw the bright silver outline of a slim figure crouched in the shadow of a merlon. A slim figure with a drawn sword.

Claudia panicked. Her hand shot out, the double-serpent bracelet unwinding on command to ensnare her attacker. The figure deflected the first strike with their sword and a clash of metal, and avoided the second with an acrobatic dodge that carried them out of the narrow field Claudia could see through the lens. She whirled, trying to track the attacker, her hand darting into her satchel again for the clay vials kept within easy reach near the top. She snatched one out and crushed it in her fist in the same motion, scattering the mixture of powdered slowusk shell and the ashes of several sleep-inducing plants inside it in a broad arc through the air as the matching incantation rolled off her tongue. 

The expanding cloud glowed violet, brightening and throwing off sparks where its effects were strongest. Claudia peered into it, one hand still clutching the lens, the other back in her satchel ready to grab another vial. 

A shadowy figure slowly appeared out of the spell-cloud, staggering toward her unsteadily. The sword slipped from their dangling hand and clattered on the rampart’s stones. Another step, and they fell to their knees, struggling to remain upright. The blurred shadows of the figure resolved into sudden clarity as they swayed, and Claudia caught a glimpse of a pale, feminine face before they finally, finally collapsed and lay still.

Claudia sat down hard where she was, her limbs boneless and trembling. Her heart was pounding, and she struggled to slow her breathing back to a normal rate. She still clutched the lens tight to her chest—it had saved her life, for sure. 

When she felt like she could move again, she tucked the lens away and forced herself to crawl to the limp, face-down form. The sleeping spell was a potent one, but she hadn’t used it often, and had no idea how much time it would last. An hour? Less? Even if it was more, it was best to work quickly.

The slender horns poking out from bone-white hair confirmed the attacker as a Moonshadow elf, if their invisibility beneath the full moon had left any doubt. Claudia gingerly rolled them over. A girl—thirteen, or maybe fourteen years old? Her dirt-smudged face was still slightly rounded by childhood, despite a leanness from clearly having missed more than a few recent meals. But elves were frequently smaller and more delicate than humans, as well as being longer-lived, so ages were hard to gauge. Her hair was hacked short and ragged around her pointed ears, as if cut inexpertly with a blade not meant for the task. The dark-colored, flexible armor she wore was finely-made but dirty, and worn to the point of threadbare in the spaces between the leather. The overall impression was of someone who’d spent months living alone in the wild.

Her face, even slack with sleep, was somehow mournful—a faint downturn to the corners of her mouth, a barely-there crease between her white brows. The moonlight on her long, pale eyelashes cast delicate shadows across the deep purple markings that slashed down her cheekbones like tears. She was pretty, beneath the rough trappings—if you were the type to be into elves.

Claudia blinked, surprised at how far her mind had wandered. She was suddenly tired, the adrenaline having drained from her veins and left her with heavy limbs and a clouded mind. She should check the prisoner for weapons and find a way to restrain her, then see if she could summon a guard.

She patted her hands down the elf’s sides, feeling for hard lumps that could be hidden knives. It was only when the back of her hand brushed against rough, crusted cloth that she finally noticed the stained bandages wrapping the stump at the end of the girl’s left arm. Claudia gently peeled them back to reveal a wound that was congruent with the rest of the girl’s appearance—which was to say, not looking all that great. However the elf had been living recently hadn’t done its healing any favors.

She replaced the bandage and checked the rest of the girl’s limbs—all other extremities were present in the expected numbers, with no hidden blades save for the one tucked away at the small of her back. It was identical to the one she had wielded, the two obviously meant to be used in concert. The craftsmanship was exquisite, a complex series of joints allowing them to presumably fold and lock into different configurations—not dissimilar from her father��s staff.

Inventory of her prisoner taken, Claudia paused to considered her options. If she called for the guards, the elf would be taken to the castle’s main dungeon and questioned by the Crownguard, then members of the High Council, and eventually King Harrow himself.

Her mind filled with dismay at the thought. Harrow. Harrow would pardon her. 

Even though the Moonshadow elf was almost certainly one of the assassins whose mission was why Claudia’s father was dead, King Harrow would let her go. He’d look at this skinny, maimed wretch, so near to the age of his own children, and he would spare her any justice at all. He would probably even hand her right back to Xadia in peace.

Or… Claudia could take her. Keep her contained and figure out what to do with her later. 

It was almost definitely some form of treason. But so was concealing possession of the Dragon King’s living egg, and probably also consorting in secret with an elf of mysterious motivations sealed behind a mirror. And as with both of those situations, she just needed a little time. It was her responsibility to fully appraise all the possibilities, not rush into the first course of action that presented itself. When she knew what she was dealing with, she’d bring it to the right people.

She looked around, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. If there was any evidence of the elf’s passage, she needed to find it. The eastern rampart was still deserted, but even at this late—or early—hour, there should have been at least one guard somewhere along it’s length.

She found him twenty paces or so further along the walkway, covered by one of the banners that usually hung down the wall’s face. His throat had been cut. She gently closed his staring eyes, shuddering. He must have died only moments before she had stepped out onto the wall. If she’d been more alert, if she hadn’t lingered, then maybe—

She shook the thought away and forced herself to look critically at the body. If she wanted to keep her prisoner secret, she’d have to do something about him. She reached into her satchel, searching for one of the basic reagents used to close a cut. The spell wouldn’t have saved him—it was meant to soothe the scrapes of everyday life, not mend a mortal wound—but it might be enough to hide what killed him.

The flesh of the guard’s throat knit together reluctantly, and Claudia was shaking with exhaustion when she ended the spell. She’d cast it on Soren dozens of times over the years, and it had never been so difficult—apparently it didn’t work as well on corpses. She half-rolled, half-dragged the body to the edge of the wall, then managed to shove him up over the lip of parapet in one of the embrasures. The plates of his armor scraped loudly on the stone, and she paused anxiously to look around again.

Still nothing. She didn’t know when the guards changed shifts or positions—it had never been important, before. Hopefully she had at least a few more minutes.

She looked down at the body one last time. “I’m sorry,” she said. The words sounded absurd even to her, but she felt like she had to say something. “I… hope you find peace.” Then she tipped the corpse the rest of the way over the parapet and down the long, rocky cliff to the river below.

She sighed and looked back to the sleeping elf. Her prisoner was much smaller, and not wearing plate armor, but it was still going to be a trial for Claudia to get her all the way from the top of the castle wall to her father’s—her study, not to mention through the painting passageway and down below the catacombs to the waiting cells.

She wrapped the girl in the same banner that had concealed the dead guard, and began the long, slow process of dragging her to their destination.

—

The sleep spell was fortunately more potent than Claudia had feared. It was just after dawn when the Moonshadow girl to returned to consciousness, and Claudia had been waiting for hours.

She had hesitated over how to best restrain the elf—the chains in the cell were meant to keep a prisoner’s arms extended above their head and twisted in a way that made standing difficult, but they also operated on the usually-reasonable assumption that said prisoner had two present and functional hands. There was no way to clamp the iron ring to the elf’s stump-ended arm without it sliding right off, so she settled for chaining her good wrist, then tightly swaddling the other arm across her chest with the banner, almost as if it was being immobilized for healing. A touch of magic knit the ends of the cloth together seamlessly and far more securely than any knot. Finally, she bound the elf’s knees and ankles together—presumably an assassin would be as deadly with her legs as with her arms, and Claudia was taking no chances. There would be no one to help her if things went badly.

The elf began to struggle against her bonds immediately when she woke. Claudia watched surreptitiously through the cell door’s tiny window for a while, until her prisoner seemed to have exhausted herself. Satisfied that the restraints would hold, she sent a message to the High Council, pleading illness to excuse herself from that morning’s meeting, another to Callum dismissing him from their afternoon lesson, and a third to the kitchens with the request that breakfast be sent to her study. Then she settled in for a nap.

She awoke mid-morning, refreshed enough that a mug of hot brown morning potion could take her the rest of the way to feeling like a human being again, at least for a few hours. The breakfast tray she retrieved from the study was simple fare—bread and honey, some fresh fruit, a carafe of water. The castle cooks had learned long ago that any food sent to the High Mage’s workrooms had best keep for hours, because the chances of it being eaten immediately were slim. 

She took care to smooth her rumpled dress and straighten her hair before entering the cell. An immaculate appearance had been one of her father’s many armors, demanding the respect he was due, and Claudia was learning why in her ongoing struggles with the Council. The effort here would probably be wasted on a disheveled, wounded elf—but it did make her feel a bit more confident. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

The elf-girl sat slumped where she was chained to the stone wall, exhibiting every signal of resigned defeat—but Claudia had more than a passing familiarity with approaching cornered animals. Everything was at its most dangerous when it had nothing to lose. Staying well back from reach, she crouched to put herself at eye level with her prisoner. She set the tray on the floor beside her, then folded her arms over her knees and rested her chin on them.

“So, you’re the last assassin,” she said. “Tell me how you escaped, that night.”

It wasn’t a guess, really—all the pieces fit. The shape and details of the girl’s elaborate twin short swords, a perfect match with the twisted remains of the other assassins’ weapons. The white cord Claudia had discovered knotted to one blade’s hilt. The ugly, swollen stump of her left wrist.

The elf didn’t look at her. Didn’t even move.

“Why were you even with them?” Claudia pressed. “You’re practically a child.”

Pale violet eyes flicked abruptly to hers. “Don’t call me a child,“ her prisoner said, with acid below her exhaustion. “You’re barely older than I am. You sound ridiculous.”

“Sorry, this is my first interrogation,” Claudia replied innocently. “What should I call you, then? Do you have a name?”

The elf hesitated. Something shifted behind her eyes, and her shoulders drooped, just a little. “No. I’m no one. Just a ghost.”

“What if I call you ‘Ghost,’ then?” Claudia suggested. “My name is Claudia, by the way.”

The elf—Ghost, Claudia decided for her—rolled her eyes and didn’t respond.

“Well, you must be hungry. I’m always ravenous coming out of a sleep spell. You won’t bite if I feed you, right?” Claudia tore a chunk off the loaf of bread on the tray and held it out.

Aaravos had laughed when she asked him what her prisoner would eat. The same as you do, he’d said. Moonshadow elves drink no more blood than Dark mages.

Ghost fixed her with a look that would have been withering, had it not been undercut by a clearly audible gurgle from her own stomach.

Claudia bit into the chunk of bread herself. “It’s fine, see? Fresh. Hardly any poison.” She tore off another chunk, and lifted the spoon from the pot of honey to top it with a thick, golden drizzle. Ghost’s eyes followed the movement.

She held out the honeyed bread, and Ghost shifted, leaning toward it slightly. Claudia scooted forward enough to tip the bread into her waiting mouth and hear the shuddering sigh as she chewed. “More?” she offered.

Ghost eyed her sidelong, evaluating. “Water?” she asked tentatively.

Claudia nodded and filled a cup from the carafe. She held it to Ghost’s lips, tilting it as she drank greedily. Ghost deigned to eat more of the bread after that, and even a few slices from the apple Claudia slowly peeled. 

“What do you want?” she finally asked.

Claudia popped an apple slice in her own mouth. “Tell me how you escaped the tower.”

“Why? Does it matter?”

“Not really.” Claudia picked up a napkin and wiped the knife she’d used to peel and slice the fruit. “I’m just curious.”

Ghost’s eyes slid away from her. “No one escaped. I… wasn’t there.”

Claudia remembered pacing her father’s study, the anxious obedience of waiting for him as his message had instructed. How her eyes had suddenly fallen on the staff where it leaned against the desk—the staff he never went without. 

“I understand,” she murmured.

Ghost said nothing, still looking away.

Claudia brushed the crumbs off her lap. “I think that’s enough, for now,” she said, standing and collecting the tray. “I’ll be back later.”

Ghost snorted. “I’ll be here, I suppose.”

—

They carried on like that for most of a week. Claudia didn’t have much in the way of questions—Ghost couldn’t tell her anything useful about the Dragon Queen or major players of Xadia, and Aaravos’s name meant nothing to her. She was simply too young, too junior, and too isolated to know anything.

Nonetheless, Claudia was beginning to feel the  growing shape of a plan.

She pretended not to notice as the stump of Ghost’s wrist slowly swelled and reddened. It was clearly getting worse, though Claudia hadn’t examined the wound closely since her cursory look that first night, up on the wall. Ghost, for her part, expressed no pain but grew increasingly listless, eating less and fading more often into troubled sleep.

On the eighth day, Claudia prepared a bowl of water and a stack of clean cloths before opening the cell. She’d borrowed a roll of fresh bandages from the guardhouse infirmary, and had reagents for a variety of healing spells on hand in case things got truly dire.

Ghost was pale—the dark markings framing her cheeks even more livid than usual—and sweating, her body racked with tremors. Her left arm was swollen to the elbow, now; the skin reddened and hot to the touch. She offered no objection to the old bandages being peeled away. 

In the better light, Claudia could see that the original wound had been cauterized, but poorly. Most likely Ghost had heated one of her blades and done it herself. If half of what Claudia had read about the Moonshadow bindings was correct, she had probably severed the hand herself, as well. Better to lose it as cleanly as possible than let it rot while still attached and poison the blood.

“That’s infected again,” Claudia said, nodding at it. “Will you let me tend to it?”

Ghost’s eyes were glassy with fever, but still focused on her in a glare. “Why?” she demanded. “What is it you really want, anyway? Revenge for your king? Then why not just let me die?”

Claudia couldn’t help herself—she laughed, long and hard. “Oh, Ghost,” she said when she could breathe again, settling back on her heels to wipe her eyes. “King Harrow is alive.”

“No. That’s impossible.” Ghost stared at her, mouth parted and trembling. “The binding for him released. It released.”

So there were two targets. Claudia filed that away in her mind for later.

“My father pulled out the king’s spirit with Dark magic, and took his body,” she explained, still smiling. It felt good to say the words to what was possibly the one person who might be even more hurt by them than she was, herself. “That’s who your assassin friends killed in the tower. They all died for nothing.”

“I—I don’t believe you.”

Claudia shrugged. “Why should I lie? If it wasn’t true, Dad would be the one here talking to you.”

“As to what I want—well, I think we may be able to help each other, eventually. So for now, you’re more useful to me alive than dead. Though you’d still be plenty useful, dead.” 

She paused for a moment to let that sink in, then continued, keeping her voice casual. “Those horns? Ground up, Moonshadow elf horns work one of the most potent sleeping spells ever known. And elf ears of any type have a whole list of uses—they’re harder to come by this far west, so I’ve never gotten to try most of them. But the real prize from you would be an eye. They’re worth a fortune. I’ve read that a properly-preserved Moonshadow eye can be used to pierce even the strongest illusion.”

“I’m sure even your bones have a use, and your skin, if it’s tanned right. I don’t know about all your guts—I’d have to check Dad’s notes and see if he ever got his hands on one of your kind. I might have to do some experimenting.” She tilted her head, as if mentally already dividing Ghost up into parts. “It was a shame all your friends died burning. Nothing usable was left.”

Tears had overflowed Ghost’s pale eyes as Claudia spoke and spilled slowly down her cheeks. It was due to the fever, of course; pain and delirium had overwhelmed what little emotional fortitude she still had. She was barely more than a child.

Claudia leaned forward again, briskly setting the back of her hand to Ghost’s burning forehead. “Now, are you going to let me tend your arm, or do I have to spell you asleep again and do it anyway?”

“No magic,” Ghost pleaded, shuddering. Her voice was high and tight, trembling with emotion.

“No magic, then,” Claudia agreed solemnly. “Just hot water to clean it and a poultice for the infection. Some willowbark syrup for the fever, then fruit juice and broth, later—when you feel up to it.”

Ghost slumped in her restraints. Claudia could see that most of the fight had gone out of her. With any luck, it was permanent. She closed her eyes and nodded weakly, tears still running down her face.

A touch and a few whispered words heated the bowl of water to steaming. Claudia dipped the first of her cloths in it, and began.

—

Ghost’s condition improved over the next few days, though she remained withdrawn. Claudia decided the time was finally right to open negotiations.

She entered the cell and sat, leaning back against the wall. Still carefully out of reach, but close enough to be considered companionable. She looked over to where Ghost was still chained. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m just dandy. Never better,” Ghost huffed derisively. “Don’t you have any friends to bother instead of me?”

“Hm,” Claudia made a show of considering the question. “Not really.”

Ghost rolled her eyes. “Just my luck. What do you want, then?”

“I want to talk about what I think we can do for each other.”

“I doubt theres much I can do for you in here,” Ghost said acidly, “Except, as you’ve pointed out, provide ingredients.”

“So let’s talk about what you can do for me not in here,” Claudia countered. “You also lost someone important to you, that night.” It wasn’t a question, but she paused for confirmation, anyway.

Ghost remained silent, but gave a single, short nod.

“Dad—Dad was my world. He taught me everything I know. Maybe he wasn’t always the best person, but—,” she paused, her throat tightening. “King Harrow is the reason he’s dead. So I want you to kill him.”

She held up her hand when Ghost shifted. “Just listen. You want to know why.”

“Dad gave everything for Harrow.” She grimaced, struggling with the words. “And now Harrow’s up there wearing his skin, throwing away everything my dad did in his entire life—everything he sacrificed for this kingdom, for humanity itself—like it was all for nothing. Like none of it ever even mattered.”

“So, I want—,” she took a slow breath, doing her best to keep it steady and still feeling it shake. “I want him to see everything he’s working for—this so-called peace that’s his grand new vision—in ashes. I want him to suffer. And then I want him to die.”

The silence stretched for a long time.

“You’re insane,” Ghost finally said, staring at her with a mixture of shock and fascination.

“Am I?” Claudia retorted. “How is it any different from what your Dragon Queen demanded?”

“I didn’t say it was bad.” Ghost’s eyes flicked away for a moment, then back to her. “And what about Prince Ezran?”

“Prince Ezran,” Claudia repeated, uncomprehending. Then the pieces came together in her mind. “He was the second target, wasn’t he?”

Ghost watched her coolly. “Is there any better way to make someone suffer?”

There was expediency, there was twisting the knife, there was poetic justice—and then there was… that. “No,” Claudia said decisively. “No harm comes to Ezran. Why were you sent after a ten-year-old boy, anyway?”

Ghost bristled. “It wasn’t only the Dragon King that was slain. Your Harrow also destroyed his egg—murdered their only child and heir. The same fate for his would be justice!”

Claudia thought of the egg, alive and not even ten paces away, and kept her face carefully neutral.

“There’s plenty of blame to go around, and plenty of blood. None of it is Ezran’s,” she replied. “It was Harrow’s hand on the spear, but my father’s will in the spell. The magic came from the last unicorn horn in the human kingdoms, maybe even in the whole world—a horn I claimed. I don’t know who laid a hand on that royal egg, and it doesn’t matter. They wouldn’t even have been in arms’ reach of it if not for all that came before.

“Your assassin friends killed my father. You’ll kill King Harrow. If that’s not enough blood to appease your queen’s sense of justice… then when Harrow’s dead, you can kill me, too.”

She moved to kneel directly in front of Ghost and grabbed her by the jaw. It was dangerously close, but she didn’t care.

“But if any harm comes to Ezran,” she continued quietly, “I’ll start with those pretty, precious eyes and harvest every last thing I can from you. And I’ll keep you alive as long as possible for it.”

Ghost glared at her, her mouth a stubborn line. Claudia stared back, her grip unwavering.

It was Ghost who looked away first. “My heart for Xadia,” she muttered. “Fine.”

“That didn’t sound like a ‘yes, Claudia, I promise Prince Ezran will not be harmed.’”

Ghost’s eyes returned to Claudia’s. “Yes, Claudia,” she enunciated, more than a little mockery in her tone. “I promise Prince Ezran will not be harmed.”

Claudia figured that was the best she was going to get. “Good,” she said, releasing Ghost’s face and standing up.

“So are you going to unchain me, then?” Ghost wiggled the fingers of her manacled hand. “Or is King Harrow going to somehow come to me?”

“Not yet, because I’m not stupid,” Claudia replied. “But give me another day or two and I think I’ll have a solution to both that and your little dexterity problem. I assume you’d prefer to be working with two hands again, right?”

Ghost stared up at her for a moment, then actually cracked a smile. “Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”

#the dragon prince #claudia #rayla #no editing we die like men #kradogsfic #ouroboros au

[wolfagenda]

G E N E R A L

FULL NAME: Tadhg Callum Lachlain  (pronounced Tie-g)

NICKNAME(S): Tag

TITLE(S): None.

AGE: 30s

DATE OF BIRTH: April 20th

RACE: Gilnean Human

GENDER: Cisgender Male

PRONOUNS: He/Him

ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

MARITAL STATUS: Widowed

PROFESSION(S): Hunt Master, animal trainer, field guide & tracker. Enforcer for the mercenary company Glove & Gauntlet.

LANGUAGES: Common, conversational Dwarvish

A P P E A R A N C E

HAIR: Dark brown. Fades to a reddish/golden brown along the tips in the summertime.

EYES: Hazel/green. Left eye is now milky and blind.

HEIGHT: 6′4″ (H) / 7′3″ (W)

BUILD: Broad shoulders, compact muscle.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS (visible):

A large scar runs the left side of his face, from the center of his forehead, over his left eye, down to his left cheek. The eye is obviously blind.

COMMON ACCESSORIES:

Two massive Gilnean hounds, Bruiser & Buster.

An old silver cigarette tin with a rose stamped on the cover.

A boot knife.

A gold chain holding two golden bands.

A hunting rifle.

A B O U T

Tadhg is a stoic man who is not prone to showing emotion in public. Despite his frequent silence and rare words in a group setting, when he is with people he knows he is quite conversational; even boisterous. He is a loyal to and a fierce protector of those close to him. Sensitive and intuitive, there is a gentleness that speaks to a desire to listen and offer counsel. He is afflicted, but is not open about it.

Want to know more? Interact or RP!

•extroverted / introverted / in between.

•disorganized / organized / in between.

•close minded / open-minded / in between.

•calm / anxious / in between.

•disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

•cautious / reckless / in between.

•patient / impatient / in between.

•outspoken / reserved / in between.

•leader / follower / in between.

•empathetic / indifferent / in between.

•optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

•traditional / modern / in between.

•hard-working / lazy / in between.

•cultured / uncultured / in between.

•loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

•assertive / timid / in between

P E R S O N A L

HOBBIES: Farming, hunting, wood carving, cooking

SKILL(S): Animal training, tracking, hunting, cultivating the earth, woodworking, cooking, keeping children calm

RESIDENCE: Elwynn

BIRTHPLACE: Gilneas

AFFILIATIONS: The Autumn Oath (disbanded), Alliance military (former), Glove & Gauntlet (current).

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

SPOUSE:

Anna (Kelly) Lachlain. Deceased.

CHILDREN:

None.

PARENTS:

William Lachlain, father. Deceased.

Eithne (Farrier) Lachlain, mother. Deceased.

SIBLINGS:

None.

OTHER RELATIVES:

All deceased.

PETS/COMPANIONS/FAMILIARS:

Constant companions:  Bruiser & Buster, Gilnean hounds.

Numerous wild-living companions; too many to name.

V I C E S

SMOKING:  never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

O T H E R

FACE REFERENCE(S): Clive Standen (namely as Rollo in Vikings)

VOICE REFERENCE(S): Raspy cockney accent. Very This.

ALIGNMENT: Neutral

SERVER: Moon Guard - Alliance

OTHER:

18+ Only. 25+ preferred.

Open to most themes. Just ask.

Always looking for connections.

#worgen #gilnean #wow rp #world of warcraft rp #moon guard #alliance rp #wow oc #him #tadhg

[raayllum]

like i have not spent ages thinking about how far i can push rayllum to be borderline unhealthy while also giving them room to walk back from the brink and still have a healthy relationship with each other to Not be excited the show is exploring the exact same thing - Could you please explain the above with regards to your fic? Like maybe some scenarios we can expect? Especially around the whole unhealthy relationship traits :) Love messy relationships in stories :)

re: this post

So one of my favourite things about TDP is that they emphasize, time and time again, that you can deeply love someone and they can deeply love you, and yet that doesn't mean 1) the relationship can't be or cannot become unhealthy and 2) that genuine love can be precisely what destroys the relationship / the people in it anyway. Ex: Harrow and Viren's entire decades long fuckery, Rayla and Runaan (re: he loved her too much to see she wasn't fit to be an assassin), Harrow's love for Sarai being so warped he does something she would never want or approve of to assuage his own rage and grief/guilt (and Viren pushing Harrow to take revenge for similar reasons), even Callum and Claudia to a degree, etc. Even the healthiest of relationships have periods or patterns of unhealthiness and in a series all about breaking harmful cycles, it’s particularly apt, tragic, and interesting

I always figured we saw the beginnings of this in TTM / that Rayla's tendency to go off on her own (and self-sacrifice) was going to be, in many ways, their biggest hurdle to face. Callum also has self destructive tendencies when it comes to magical desperation (2x04 and 2x07) but he also has self-preservation and optimism, even as he verges closer to where Rayla stands in S4.

Basically: the fundamental misunderstanding of TTM, in which Rayla chooses Callum by leaving, and Callum views her as choosing the mission over him by staying away, is undeniably tragic with both of them being right and both of them being wrong, and we see that follow through into S4 (Callum asking Rayla to kill him and thinking it's something she would viably do in the first place). This relationship between love as transformation (positive change), salvation (life), and destruction (death) and the razor's edge between all of them is something I've thought a lot about within Rayllum's bond in general, since it's also a big theme in the show that we come back to time and time again, and theirs is the relationship it probably manifests in the most every season:

Will this thing help me or hurt me? Will it save me or kill me?

“Wow. So they look identical, but they might kill you or they might save you,” Callum said.

“Exactly. Just like me…” Rayla smiled.

It's a level of symbolic and interpersonal intensity I just can't get enough, as well as the inherent risk in it: Callum, reckless, driven, relentless, barreling towards what might be his own destruction because he just can't resist. Rayla, more cautious and more aware, so scared of pulling others down with her and cognizant that she'll go down with the ship (Callum's ship) to the very end. This was all present to me and one of my favourite ideas to explore pre-S4's release, so I think it's very unsurprising that the "I need you to kill me" scene from 4x07 ended up being my favourite scene in the season, because it's thematically richer than beyond anything I ever dreamed of going in.

"Desperate Measures," now firmly canon divergent, focuses on Rayla going undercover in a Xadian dark mage guild when Callum stumbles across her and gets entwined in the lie, as he refuses to just leave her there. The emotional toll of the increasingly unethical and awful things they have to do, the anger and hurt and love they still hold for one another that they can't reveal to anyone else, and their increasing resentment towards one another (Rayla is trying to spare him, Callum is trying to keep her safe at expense to himself) understandably pushes them to their limits and makes them resort to, well, some desperate measures in order to keep the other person Safe, if deeply unhappy.

This includes having to 1) downplay their connection and history together, omitting massive chunks of it, 2) going along on some dark magic hunts and both participating in ingredient collection, 3) increasingly losing a sense of self, etc. Again, all things we see little peeks of in S4, in terms of Rayla being far more jaded, both of them being pretty lost without the other, not talking about their relationship as much because of everything going on, being frustrated and hurt but refusing to / being unable to walk away from each other or let go.

However, one of my favourite things about pushing an otherwise healthy relationship to that extreme is keeping it together enough that it can be healthy again, and what that journey would look like. So it's a pretty bleak fic, I think, but not devoid of hope and affection - just a lot of anguish, too.

Overall I think this line sums up the analysis and the fic quite well:

“I can’t!” Callum burst, his chest heaving. “I can’t stop caring—I don’t fucking hate you―that’s the problem!”

When you love someone so much they destroy you, just a little (or a lot)? Yeah

#tdp #the dragon prince #rayllum #thanks for asking #analysis series #analysis #mini meta #anonymous #once again this ends up being far longer than intended #fic: desperate measures #requests #personal fave

[daftnerd]

Posted Chapter 3 of TDP fic, “Getting Wet” on AO3

Read here: Exposed, part of the of the Only Love (aka Nerds in Love) series

Summary:  

Rayla and Callum’s skinny dipping isn’t secret anymore…

Rating: Rated T

Excerpt:

Callum had had a feeling they’d get caught.  It seemed like anytime they did something even remotely embarrassing, they got caught – his scream, the hickey, sleeping in the same bed, and now this… each and every time they got caught!  He didn’t think he was being overly cautious if bad things always happened, right?

#tdp fic #tdp rayllum #rayllum #tdp rayla #tdp callum #tdp soren #tdp ezran #tdp opeli

[king-of-fae]

Progress is going much better now that I'm back at school and not a full-time job! I'm adding in some scenes that I want to add as an incentive to try different routes.

Depending on if you go with Callum or not, the scenes will be different and you'll get to talk to different characters. I'm hoping this makes each scene feel equally worthwhile, so if you play a more cautious MC you aren't being penalized. Instead, you'll get a unique scene.

#summoners return #progress report