#urchin sings

[splatcurioshop]

mirio whats ur fav human band?

[.]

#ic #mirio sea urchin #zee sea urchin #I do want to say that the “[ ]” in the ask indicate it's probably in english instead of inklish #Mirio has 0 idea what he's singing #i just realized i drew a hand wrong;; if you see it;; just look away #also i guess he likes Dua Lipa + Caravan Palace

[mousenoseopera]

#where the crawdads sing #thundarr the barbarian #marsh girl #swamp urchin #urchin erasure #post apocalyptic dagny taggart #trains #crawdads #musical shrimp #separated at birth

[thegnomelord]

Devotion in Steel

How They Worship You After The Hunt: Dottore, Childe, Zhongli.

So this is based off This idea I had about a cyberpunk reader in a cult!Sagau genshin, so this is just me testing the waters. I spent wayyy too much time on this one lol but this brainrot is still going strong.

CW: Suggestive themes, cult/yandere characters, reader is GN, mentioned gore for Zhongli part. First time writing Yandere's so tell me how it goes lol.

Dottore: Silent Curiosity

He does not worship you openly; he doesn't sing hymns about your mercy or your cruelty, nor does he press his face into the ground whenever you pass, like certain archons wishing for redemption. His worship is quiet. To the unworthy, the way he touches you — with clinically cold hands, examining every gear, and bolt, and piston with the same calculating gaze reserved for one of his machines — may as well be the highest form of sacrilege. Who is he to act as if you are just another of his toys? Who is he to not even say a single word to you? Who is he to touch and pull on your mechanical components like some urchin child toying with an object they do not realize is precious? But they can't do anything, because You do not see it their way. You do not stop or punish him, you encourage him; it isn't rare to find you two alone, him on his knees with your arm held in his hands, silently watching the moving mechanisms beneath your plating as you explain the intricacies of your mechanical form to him in that synthetic voice of yours that makes his bones tremble. His touch is clinical, precise, but it is by no means cold; His worship is conveyed through his actions. With reverence he cleans the dirt and grime from the seams in your armor, happy to stay on his knees for hours, days even, so long as not a single speck of dirt is left to mar your perfect body. With piety he polishes every gear, with admiration he oils every piston, worshiping even the smallest piece in your body like it is a holy relic. To Dottore, being able to see technology millennia ahead of his own and learn of knowledge yet undiscovered would have been bliss. But to feel it beneath his fingers? To feel it in his bones as that artificial voice of yours reveals the world's secrets? Heaven.

Tartaglia: Eager Veneration

Once, Tartaglia had only known of you from the stories his parents had told him; of a loving creator, a place of safety and solace in this harsh world. Later, when he fell into the Abyss, Skirk told him new stories of you, passed down to her by the denizens of the Abyss — ones his parents wouldn't have dared to utter lest they tempt Celestia to punish them for heresy. So when you descended, full of harsh edges and your body geared for battle, he embraced you as you were. He would have loved you regardless of your appearance, but something about the mechanical version of you made sense to him; Children resemble their parents after all, why should you have appeared like the demure little thing the tapestries depicted you as when Teyvat could be harsh, and cruel, and cold? He remembered his parents teachings, tried to be respectful like the other acolytes, on their knees, with their heads pressed to the ground. He would have done so happily, would have kneeled before you until he was nothing but bones, would have slaughtered countries in your name... yet the abyss gnawed on his bones, needing your attention like a babe needed a parent. So when you showed him favor? When you offered him to touch the divine metal of your cybernetic body? He couldn't stop himself. Anxiety tempered his eagerness, he did not seek more than what you offered him, yet his hands still glided over your skin and metal with the same energy as the little gears beneath your outer shell. Trembling fingers traced old dents and scratches that ripperdocs had neglected to fix, words of absolute devotion leaving his lips as he put his head to your chest, listening to the tik tik tik of mechanical organs beneath your chassis. But your weapons enchanted him the most. It reminded him so much of the Foul Legacy hiding under his skin; the promise of danger and death lurking beneath the surface, ready to be used as soon as a threat appeared — a similarity between you two that no one else could claim. He could spend days simply kissing and lavishing the seams in the armor, feeling where fake skin transitioned into metal which hid your weaponry from the world. Though you never allowed him more than a look, he yearned to touch them, to kiss the sharp blades, to feel his bones bend under your mechanical strength, to feel the monowire burn through his skin... Please, won't you let him? He survived the Abyss, he promises that he's tough, he can handle the pain... just this once, let him worship you, all of you, please?

Zhongli: Desperate Absolution

Zhongli is afraid; to touch, to breathe, to even exist near you. How can he not be, when he is the reason for your missing parts? Your aching joints? When he was the one who harmed you, who tainted your holy body with his hate and prejudice? When he was so prideful as to forsake his creator because they did not fit his own imagination? When the truth was revealed, the real impostor laying dead and your mechanical frame speckled with drops of your golden blood, he understood he was in no place to anything but bow and pray your fury would be swift and merciful, though he did not deserve it. Yet even as he knelt before you, head bowed so low it was flush with the ground and eyes shut tight, not daring to even glance at your metallic feet, a part of him still yearned for a chance at redemption; to earn back the chance to worship you, to earn your forgiveness through devotion. He would do anything for it; Kiss and lick the dirt off your mechanical feet, be at your beck and call till the end of time... If you wished to regain your lost parts — he would scour the far reaches of Teyvat until he found all the metal pieces you had lost, and those that were permanently damaged? He would carve his bones into shape, until they fit... If you told him to forfeit his flesh like you had done — he would claw at his skin until not a single scrap of meat hangs off his bones. He would happily wander the earth as a skeleton, grafting pieces of old Khaenri'ahn technology to himself until he resembled you, just so you could inflict the same wounds he had done to you... Yet you did no such thing. Even as his thoughts gained a voice, escaping his mouth through muffled whimpers, all you did was watch him, your mechanical gaze racking over his shivering form as he tried to stop his hiccupping cries. Truly pathetic. Then your fingers found his chin, gripping him in a bruising as you raised his head to look at you. Your mechanical eyes reflected in the tears running down his cheeks, the metal joints in your fingers nipping at his skin. His eyes met your cold gaze, and he wondered what you will ask of him — His eyes? His tongue? His arms? The impostor would have demanded all that and more... He would give it in a heartbeat. But please, find it in your cold heart to forgive him.

#sagau zhongli #sagau brainrot #sagau idea #bottom genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #tartaglia #dottore #genshin x gender neutral reader #cyberpunk sagau #sub dottore #sub tartaglia #sub zhongli #dom reader #genshin cult au #men crying #genshin fluff #centerpieces of the hoard #cyberpunk reader #zandik x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader

[stormruff]

Jealousy (Red Hair Pirates x Child!Reader)

Synopsis: you get jealous of your little sister.

Warnings: none, I believe.

A/c: Sorry for the grammatical errors and the way of writing. as it is not my native language. My English is not that good and it's been a while since I wrote in English.

Part 2

Part 3?

At first, you wanted to have a sister. Biologically, you didn't have one, but since Shanks saved you, you were five years old, and you were happy to have a little sister. Uta was a year younger than you, you got along well, despite the sisters' fights, but you didn't attack each other, you were both familiar with the music she sang while you played your flute, on your island most people played it then you played too. you performed together over the years. but you had different personalities: Uta was talkative, she sang well, she had an easy time talking to the crew and everything, everyone loved her, while you were closed off you couldn't talk to everyone, you had the longest conversation with Beckman, of in a way he understood you

Over time, a feeling grew that I want to be like her. envy. envy of your younger sister. she had Shanks' love and everything. You even asked if Shanks had adopted you as his daughter or just took you in out of pity. you weren’t his daughter, not like Uta was.

you were in a village in East Blue called Foosha Village. Uta befriended a street urchin, Luffy. He was cool, he was 7 years old, but he was annoying, every day he came to ask you if you could ask Shanks to let him join his crew. The answer to that question, two huge cocks on his head. You weren't very calm.

He and Uta always played together. You didn't care much. You liked the windmills, and you climbed up there a lot to feel the wind. you were born in a windy village and you missed it and this island reminded you of home.

At night, the crew gathered at the bar to eat and drink, Shanks, Uta, and Luffy were at the counter. You were far away suppressing a cough that started last week. Maybe you got an allergy.

you picked up your plate but didn’t feel hungry. You ate half the food and waited for Makimo to show up so you could ask for a glass of milk. You were too embarrassed to ask. Makimo is busy with the other children. She didn't pay enough attention to the bar. but you stayed until Uta started singing. You left your plate in a corner and left the bar.

You took your first steps and smelled cigarettes.

"Uncle Beck? What are you doing outside?"

"I came to smoke and watch little girls going out without permission." He laughed and knelt down next to you. "Where are you going?"

"Red Force. I'm going to sleep."

"So early? Well... you know the rules, you can't walk outside alone at this time."

"Uncle Beck, can you go with me?" You couldn’t hold back your cough.

"Are you sick? it is good too? I’ll call Hongo to give you a check up.”

"I'm fine, don't worry Uncle Hongo now."

"But-"

"I'm just want to sleep Uncle Beck"

The bar door creaked Uta burst out of the bar along with Luffy with a huge smile on their faces.

"(n/n)! (n/n)! I find you! Come on, I wanna sing Binks no sake, and I want you to play with me! Luffy wants to see you play! Come on, cheer her up, Beck!" You looked at Beck with a tired look.

"Y/n, I want to see you play!" Luffy shouted. You went to speak, and immediately, you were bombarded with a severe coughing fit. "(Y/n)?" You looked at Luffy

"Enough, I wanna call Hongo, you not well." Beck says as he picks you up, scooping you in his arms while you snuggle up with him.

"(n/n)... you sick? it's impossible! big sisters don't get sick."

"Can you two do me a favor?" Uta and Luffy nodded. "Can you call Hongo? Tell him it was me who asked. If he asks, tell him I'm going to Red Force with (y/n), tell him she's not well. "

The two kids run into the bar and Beckman didn't wait and went with you to the ship, while you went into a sleep.

....

"How bad is it?" The first sentence you listen to after you wake up comes from Shanks mouth. You feel his hand stroking your hair.

"Her chest was very heavy and squeaking a lot." This time was Hongo. You feel something cold in your chest. It was the stethoscope, probably. "It wouldn't be anything serious if this cough wasn't so frequent. There also the fact of her low immunity"

"she coughed even in her sleep. She wasn't well." You listen Beck, this time.

"she is a bit hot. A light ferver." You feel a hand on your forehead. the doctor sighs. "I'm gonna find some medication for her."

You decided to open your eyes, finding a concern look from the captain and the vice-capitain and slight smile from the doctor.

"Uncle Hongo, my cough..."

"How long this cough has been boring our little runt?"

"Last week..."

"Last week?!" Shanks says in surprise."And you didn't tell us?"

"Boss, she just woke up. Better not speak so soundly." Beck says as you sit up.

You rubbed your eye and sat up. "I'll be fine, Uncle Hongo?"

"You'll feel better in some days, but for now... Why don't you get some rest, while I get some medicine for you?"

"Okay..."

"What about some soup? If you want, I will ask for Roux made for you what you think?" Beck suggested, and you nod. "I will be faster, little one."

You see Hongo and Beckman leave, leaving only Shanks and you.

"Where's Luffy and Uta?" You coughed.

"Sleeping, it's 11:00 PM, these brats won't leave your side..." Shanks sits on the bed. "She was very worried. She didn't believe you were sick. She said older sisters don't get sick." He chuckles. "You said this for her?"

"No." You said coughing again. "She says I'm her older sister."

"She says she's jealous of you, how strong and fearless you are, and that she wants to be like you. In other words, she wants to be a troublemaker too..."

Your eyes widen, astonishment took control of your expression.

"just like me? But why does she want to be like me? She is perfect"

"so that's it... are you jealous of Uta too?"

"Why did you ask that?"

"Because she told me the same thing as you: she's perfect." He chuckles. "I already suspected that there was a little jealousy, there is no way two children could live together without at least being a little jealous. But I expected that from Uta, because she was the youngest, but you surprised me, (y/n)." He runs a hand for your hair "Do you wanna tell me why?"

You sigh. After all, you are a crewmember and a kid.

"She is my perfect opposite, she is communicative, nice, everyone stops just to listen to her. She gets attention so easily, she makes friends so quickly… Of course she would get attention so quickly, she's been here with you since she was a baby, and you're father and daughter after all, of course she gets everyone's attention and…"

"Stop right now." Shanks interrupted your little monologue, holding your hand. "Uta may be more extroverted than you, but you are also incredible, you are super intelligent, an incredible flutist, Uta may be full of life, a great singer, but not because she is my daughter does she get all the attention, if If you stop to think about it, you would also have privileges too…"

"Me? why?"

"it is not obvious? When I heard Uta call you big sister, I thought you considered her as your little sister, Since since I saved you I took care of you, I even taught you how to speak again... Isn't that enough to be considered your father figure?

"Of course you are... But you always give more attention to her than for me... I thought..."

"Uta and you are so different... Uta always gotten into problems when we lost the sight for her. As for you… you barely get into trouble, always following the rules, sometimes your tantrums take over your personality, but other than that you're just a girl who feels alone. It's my fault, because I always thought you were more reserved, but I was wrong, can you forgive me, (y/n)?"

"Uncle Beck told you? When?"

"While you sleeping..." You coughed again. "I'm sorry that I didn't give you enough confidence to open up to me, but I love you… you don't have to be like her… I adore you just the way you are… I know that doesn't make the jealousy go away although, but I hope you feel more confident, you are my daughter (y/n), as much as Uta."

Your tears started running down at your face.

"Shanks... Thank you for everthing... I'm really sorry for not telling I'm sick..." you coughed as you hug him.

"It's okay...but I think you should be taking Hongo advice and rest... Soon you will get delicious soup along with bad medicine…" He put his hands under your shoulders and lifted you, taking you out of your sitting position and placing you lying on the bed. "Time for bed… little one." He smiled and kissed your forehead, stroking your hair.

"Good night, Shanks..." You closed your eyes. Coughing again.

"Rest Well... Soon you will get better. I promise."

#one piece #one piece x reader #Shanks x Child!reader #shanks x reader #shanks x daughter!reader #Red Hair pirates x child!reader #Uta x sister!reader #beckman x child!reader #shanks #uta #luffy #beckman #akagami no shanks #one piece shanks #shanks x you

[grimbanes]

My Soulmate is Capitalism. (Kaz Brekker x GN!Reader)

Summary: "Of course I believe in soulmates - I have met mine. Capitalism is my mistress and I lay with her every night, I hold her close and she sings me promises of riches beyond any man's dreams." OR after a successful heist, everybody celebrates but kaz chooses to sit with the reader and they have a funny conversation.

WC: 2k

Genre: crack fic. pre-relationship, coming to terms with feelings, the rest of the crows being funny. you/your pov. kaz might be a lil ooc. reader and kaz are besties with a lot of tension.

A/N: i wanted to write something light hearted because my notifs are blown up rn, but this is gonna be a first part or prologue leading to confessions within a day or two. so stay tuned, i hope you enjoy this because there's more to come for this one. i wanted to try something more dialogue heavy for once. i forgot how funny kaz could be but i was reading chapter 2 of SOC again and my god hes so funny.

TW: violence, usual six of crow warnings, kaz laughing.

“So you admit that you’re the thief?”

The young man in chains wanted to laugh, he really did. It wasn’t in his nature to laugh at idiocy - if he made a habit of it, he’d be laughing permanently and that seemed rather tiring. 

“I’m a vigilante, of sorts,” He replied smoothly, adjusting the shackles on his hands from where he let them rest between his legs, being sure not to touch his bad leg even when both were chained to the rickety, barely held together chair he was perched upon.

“You gonna give it to the poor?” 

“I am the poor,” Kaz said. He had to egg him on. His entire plan was resting on the fact that the Stadwatch were full of the most kruge hungry, lazy, arrogant fools to ever be shoved from the womb of Ketterdam’s damp streets.

It earned him a fist to the face, cracking down against his scarred cheekbone and he felt dizzy - recoiling from the rising tides that filled his tight lungs, daring to attempt to drag him under the murky, corpse riddled depths. It was only a moment of touch, but a moment enough that it numbed the pain that should be blossoming through the nerves in his face. 

“Filthy street rat,” The guard scoffed at him, shaking his hand to evidently ease the pain from hitting him. Soft bastards. 

“Street rat, urchin, pickpocket, they’re all the same. You can think of something better now, can’t you? Let me give you a hand: I prefer the term businessman, opportunist or even idealist, on a good day, ” The young man in chains taunted, leaning back into his seat and making himself comfortable, only the weight of rusting metal clamped around his bare skin giving him any discomfort.

He needed the officer closer. Just that little bit closer.

He didn’t miss the slight hobble in the guard’s right foot, or the consistent shaking in both of his hands. Perhaps he had skipped a meal or was otherwise unwell, either way, it posed an opportunity for him that had the young man scheming. Like any skilled thief, he could take himself out of his chains in mere seconds with the gentle caress of cool metal, a flick of the wrist and a soft praise, the lock would bend to his will and snap open, but not yet. With guard in his space, he could set the rest of the plan into motion and trust in his schemes to carry the others to do their part too. 

The Stadwatch officer reached to fist his hair and Kaz braced himself, tongue in cheek and eyes locked on the hand reeling back and preparing to be delivered swiftly into his nose. A single second window was all he had. So he counted. He waited three seconds, inhale, exhale, inhale, and with a loud clink, his wrists were free. Kaz lowered himself down, arms shooting out to wrap around the officer’s hips and he hoisted himself up to his full height, the chains on his feet clattering away and he was dropping the officer onto his back with a heavy thud, dust filling the air in the dark room. 

He didn’t hesitate to grab his cane from where it was left propped against the wall and raised it with a confident grip, the weighted head connecting with a sickening crack to the side of the man’s head. Exhale.

“Can’t have this tarnishing my perfect record,” Kaz mumbled, taking an uneven step back and leaning heavily onto his cane, stoney eyes scanning the surrounding room. It was dark out, possibly. Around four hours he’d been sitting with his eyes closed, counting every second and minute that passed, as he’d been stripped of his hat, coat, gloves and cane. He pushed his bare hand through his hair, away from his face. Right about now they should be-

The door threw open, and expecting Jesper, Kaz opened his mouth the mutter a threat about almost being late but instead, he was met with the one person who managed to make him hold his tongue. The one person who had him on his toes, who encouraged his behaviour, the only other person who knew what it was like to be raised by Ketterdam. You. With your mischievous smile, dirt smudged against your cheek and eyes sparkling at him with so much mirth that it had him wanting to return the pure joy you always seemed to radiate. You were always at your best when your pockets were full of trinkets that didn’t belong to you.

“Where’s Jesper?” Kaz inquired instead, stepping past you and out of the door and he didn’t even want to think on why the soft scent of morning dew flowers even managed to stay clung to you in dangerous jobs like this. He hobbled down the narrow corridor, leaning majority of his weight into his cane as his leg began to ache, the cold chill of the room set deep into the broken bone - he’d definitely been sat still for too long, it was nearly unbearable. 

“Covering Wylan’s escape,” Your voice chimed from behind him, quiet steps masked in time with his own uneven gait. He eyed you from the corner of his alert eyes and he thought you were possibly the most addicting thing he had ever laid his eyes upon, even in dim light, in the face of danger, the possibility of death still thick in the suffocatingly stagnant air. 

Kaz couldn’t find it within himself to be mad that Jesper had gone against his explicit orders to stick to the plan, no detours, no changes. That only meant that you had done your best to adapt to the change, to do your part and still come for him, and you had done it well - he figured he owed you a drink. Or a necklace. Or a bullet between your enemy’s eyes. Whatever he could do, he would do it for you, just to show he valued your set of skills in his arsenal. The entire plan rested on Jesper breaking Kaz out of interrogation before the Stadwatch completed the paperwork and locked him in a cell for Ghezen knew how long.

┕━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

You collapsed into your seat with a sigh, head tipped back and the sound of the bottle of whiskey was already being passed around, glasses clinking and the unshakable adrenaline remained buzzing under everybody’s skin. Another successful heist meant another fifteen thousand kruge in your coffers. You heard the seat beside you be dragged out and the smell of dark coffee flooding your senses, warming your sinuses. Your eyes flickered open in the warm lighting, falling upon the familiar figure that seemed to always be in your shadow as of late.

Kaz slid a cup and saucer your way, bitter dark coffee swirling in the fine china and you felt yourself ease a little more. He had a way about him that always left you feeling a little recharged - maybe it was the fact he always brought you a cup of coffee when he made himself one, always waking you up and giving you the illusion that it was him doing it. Clever, really, the sly bastard. You held onto the little plate with a smile, fingers hooking into the handle as Kaz sat himself beside you, cane rested against the table and his usual coat and hat abandoned somewhere in the club.

“Boss will have our heads for being in the club after hours, you know,” You teased.

“I am the boss,” Kaz muttered in retort, his usual eyebrow quirk present as he stared.

“Oh yes, of course, my apologies, Master Brekker,” You pressed, giving him a little nudge with your elbow and not missing the slight quirk of his own lips, barely present other than the way only one side of his mouth raised. 

The young man rolled his blued hyacinth eyes in his usual manner, his entire being just screaming familiarity and you felt comfortable. At ease. Brekker could handle himself in a gunfight, a fist fight and any game of wit. His tongue was sharper than most knives, his words the coldest bullet to explode your brains against your own floorboards and that was a comforting thing in the Barrel. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You found yourself asking, swirling the dark coffee in its cup between your hands, holding it close to your face and studying the young man beside you. 

"Of course I believe in soulmates - I have met mine. Capitalism is my mistress and I lay with her every night, I hold her close and she sings me promises of riches beyond any man's dreams,” Kaz spoke with utter sincerity, sipping his own coffee and studying down at the manifest in front of him, pen in his other hand. 

“Geels was right, you do only talk in metaphors,” You mumbled with clear disappointment, eyes cast upon your friends across the room as they drank their alcohol and made merry, celebrating the night’s events. 

Beside you, Kaz stopped writing. In fact, he set his pen down altogether and a sigh left through his nose. You didn’t want to turn to look at him, didn’t want to show your disappointment - it was very rare you ever got a real answer from him, one that wasn’t a deflection or some mirror of the reputation he spent so long building. Sometimes, you just wanted a conversation but you knew choosing Kaz for that was foolish to begin with. 

“As I said to Geels, that wasn’t a metaphor,” Kaz offered the truce, rather than submitting to his usual silence whenever he had upset someone. 

“Is this your way of telling me that you quite literally sleep with money in your bed?” You asked, perplexed and turning your head to fully look at the Barrel Boss’ side profile. 

“Yes.” Kaz sipped his coffee, leaned back in his seat and tapped a gloved finger against the surface of the table between you, “Thousands of kruge make my pillow and keep me warm in the night.” 

And you laughed. You laughed louder than you ever had, hand slamming against the table and full body tipping forward, coffee set aside as you nearly choked on it. Kaz Brekker had told a joke and it was devastatingly funny, the deadpan delivery more than enough for you to be sent into a room filled with giggles. It had the others across the room staring at you with perplexity, glancing between both you and Kaz and you didn’t miss the way his body shook just that little bit, a hint of a laugh in his body language and smile hidden beneath the cup of coffee he was sipping on. 

“You are so lucky that I adore you so much else I would be sticking a bullet through your brain right about now,” You giggled, miming firing a gun at him with your fingers and you snorted again, gripping onto the edge of the table. 

“Careful voicing your affections so loud, one might think you’re being sincere,” Kaz’s smile seemed to shine in his eyes, leaning a little closer to your space and it set you off again, your hand slamming against your hand in an effort to stop your little outburst. 

***

“They flirt with violence?” Nina dared question, whiskey in hand and staring at the exchange with confusion fused with joy, knowing damn well she could use this against the both of them in future. I mean really, who could adore anyone with a haircut that bad? She shook her head, utterly flummoxed. 

“I don’t know what’s more unsettling, seeing Kaz smile or seeing Kaz make someone just as bad as him laugh like that,” Wylan shuddered, yet unable to look away.

“I think it's sweet. It really shows that there is somebody out there for everyone,” Inej smiled, eyes softening as she studied the exchange and holding her hand above her heart.

“Demjin made somebody laugh, I think we should take them both to a medik,” Matthias grumbled, earning himself a shove from Nina. 

“Well I think-” Jesper dropped into his seat, leaning into where they had huddled inwards and grinned. “It’s creepy. I mean c'mon, imagine if anything happened between them. He’d go absolutely feral. It's so human.. I don’t like it.”

#crack fic #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #grishaverse

[netegf]

love dart

pairing: ao'nung x reader

When the water beyond the reef bends against the light to make a horizontal ripple, it looks a lot like Ao’nung’s brow. All the tension of a pulled arrow, but suspended in time and space. Leaving you to wonder when it might release.

“You’re going to pop a vessel.” You say bluntly, poking a finger into his tight forehead.

For a moment, his eyes soften from their perpetual narrow. But his lips stay tightly pinned in a thin line. Hands stay fixed on the bandage wrap he intends to wrap around your knee, dried blood staining the lithe fingers.

Against the cracking of high tide, there is only the sound of his breathing, drawing out as a painful metronome. His large chest takes a long time to expand.

“Tsahìk’s son is dressing my wound.” You hum with a stupid grin. “I must be special.”

If he agrees, he certainly does not say so. Instead, his fingers gently brush away a family of urchin spines and slather a clump of light green paste over the patch of your skin where they, not so long ago, called home. When you jump at the coolness, his other hand comes down on your uninjured knee as a warm, makeshift anchor.

“What, so it’s my fault the reef wants my blood?”

Now, you are pushing. Coaxing. Like you want him to scold you. Like a ticklish kiss to his elbow with the hope that the arrow snaps forward. In a better mood, he would say that the reef had done nothing. You never heed his warnings. You always step forward without looking where your feet land.

With his thick lashes fluttering in every slow blink, Ao’nung wraps the affliction in bandage. With a surge of brilliance, you part your lips in a particularly pained “o” and feign an aggrieved moan. “Ow!”

His eyes, for the first time since his arrival, practically leap from their sockets as he looks up from his spot between your legs to meet your gaze. He’s about to apologize for his roughness in what would have been an amusing gesture considering his feather-light touch, when he notices the glimmer of mischief in your eyes.

“Got you.” You sing, but the brief acknowledgement quickly dissipates into an eye-roll. Still holding your leg, his fingers go back to their tinkering, and this time, you pout.

“You’re mad at me.”

It is so earnest, Ao’nung feels his chest pull from the inside. Slowly, he finishes his wrapping. “I am not mad at you.”

Ao'nung has learned, more often than not, that the quirk in your brow is response enough. In this case, it is quite clear – really?

He pauses. “You give me a headache.”

Not the right explanation, but he says it anyways. It was not so much matter of head as it was matter of heart. You made his heart ache.

And if that wasn’t agonizing enough, his hands were still stained with your blood. His body suddenly comes up until his chest brushes yours and those same red hands caress your face.

“I thought you needed a brain for that.” You whisper, hot air circulating the echo-chamber between you. He scowls for half a heartbeat, then sends himself forward like an arrow, chasing your lips in warm, sloppy kisses. They make his throaty “Shut. Up.” sound sweet.  

Before he pulls apart, Ao’nung presses a few more kisses to your lips for good measure - and if you squint your eyes hard enough, there is a touch of a smile playing at his mouth. Content to see you so speechless. He turns his back to you and kneels down. The unspoken is fast understood.

“I’m only doing this because of your leg.” That was Ao'nung. Always a disclaimer before his better deeds.

Happily, you slot your legs into the space between his arms and torso, and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. Together, you lift into the air. Warm and smiley against his muscular back.

“I think you just want to hold me.”

Like the tide retreats into the deep sea, Ao’nung drops his hands so they are no longer supporting your thighs, your dead-weight dragging behind him. “Keep thinking.” He mumbles.

Water is fickle, you muse, before bringing your body back onto his and hugging tightly. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, pressing gentle kisses that make him shiver. “I’m sorry, I love you.” Like an arrow whizzing past his ears.

“Nuisance.”

“And?”

“And I love you.”

Away from your prying gaze, Ao’nung smiles until his cheeks hurt. The arrow hits the target, but the tip is blunt.

reblogs/tags are appreciated <333

#ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #aonung #aonung x reader #atwow #avatar 2 #surprise shawty!!! #mine #idk i wrote this yesterday and was feeling lovey dovey for valentines day

[cambion-companion]

aemond falling in love with a musically gifted woman and every time they’re getting ready to sleep he asks her to sing to him 🥺 this thought JUST popped up in my head. like imagine he hears her before he sees her. like she’s singing for some event or something but aemond gets there too late and only sees the back of her head. it could be a whole thing where he’s trying to find her because her voice intrigued him that much.

Beneath the Mistletoe

This fic took ME on a ride

I have been waiting to do this one for too long and I made it Yule-themed as well...reader introduces Aemond to some winter traditions hehe

Aemond x fem!reader | Aemond reluctant to take part in festivities | harpist!reader | cheeky banter | mistletoe kiss

You fingers plucked the strings of your harp, constructed of the finest walnut wood, filling the dining hall with lovely music as you accompanied the other musicians. Your keen eyes swept the dance floor, taking note of all the noble lords and ladies swirling about, strung to the music you were creating.

All were dancing and making merry, save one obvious exception.

Aemond Targaryen. The silver-haired enigma. The young man who had all the ladies gossiping and giggling as they whispered behind hands, surreptitiously glancing at the rigid form of the prince.

As if he felt your gaze upon him, while he sat at the long table, his eye flicked to meet yours. Neither of you broke eye contact, you watched as he studied you and the instrument you played. A pleasant shiver prickled the back of your neck, he seemed interested in you. A small smile tugged at his lovely lips, curved and plush as they were. You longed to run your fingers along the shape of them.

Your fingers stumbled, you lost the beat of the music and faltered.

"Come on now, Y/N." The fiddler beside you chided. "Keep up! Don't let pretty princes distract you."

You mumbled a curse at him, steadying your fingers upon the harp strings once again and reentering the melody. You shot a quick glance back at the table, Aemond was grinning slyly at you now.

Your face burned, and you had to look away before you messed up the song again.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

She was quite a lovely sight, seated before the wooden harp, fingers so dexterous as she conjured music as though it was magic.

Aemond was loathe to admit it, but he was entranced at the sight. The harp perched between your legs, a rather intimate instrument he mused.

With long fingers grasping his pewter goblet, Aemond raised his cup to his lips, pretending to drink the wine therein, still observing you over the rim.

"See something interesting, brother?" Aegon prodded his shoulder, rousing Aemond unpleasantly from his contemplation of your form.

"Is there no one else for you to bother?" He cast an annoyed look at the elder prince, appraising his unkempt state. "Did mother not instruct you to wash before the Yuletide feast?"

"I'm presentable enough." Aegon defended, tucking a greasy strand of silver hair behind his ear.

"You look like an urchin."

"You have the look of a man who sees a woman he likes." Aegon wiggled his eyebrows at Aemond, his cheeks ruddy from all the wine he'd consumed. "Go talk to her."

"She's busy at the moment." Aemond actually took a sip of wine this time, almost choking as Aegon clapped him hard upon the back.

"I'll be right back, don't go anywhere."

"What are you-?" Aemond's eye narrowed as he watched Aegon cross the dance floor, almost getting clotheslined by a waltzing couple as he did. "Oh no." He murmured, rising to stand, bemusement and bewilderment furrowing his brow.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

"Excuse me. Harp lady. Stop playing a moment." You looked around, your hands stilling upon the vibrating strings. The last person you expected to be speaking to you was Aegon Targaryen, the eldest son of Viserys and Alicent. Yet here he was, his cheeks red from the influence of wine as he grinned down at where you sat. "My brother would like a word."

"I'm sorry my prince." You bowed your head. "I have been commissioned to play for the royal feast."

Aegon was having none of it. You made a disgruntled noise as he took you by your elbow, guiding you ungently to your feet. You steadied your instrument as it teetered, jostled by the abruptness of your movements as Aegon practically steered you away.

You looked guiltily over your shoulder at your fellow musicians, giving them a little wave of apology as you were dragged toward the long dining table.

Aemond stood as Aegon approached, his hand still gripping your arm.

"Let her go, Aegon." Aemond's voice was terse but still held a quality that made your skin tingle pleasantly.

"Talk about a first-class delivery." Aegon chortled, smacking you between your shoulder blades, making you stumble slightly forward.

You noted how Aemond raised his hands as if prepared to catch you should you need assistance. Luckily for you, Aegon wasn't that rough.

"I'm not a Yuletide package." You grumbled, straightening your skirts and giving Aegon a displeased glare before curtsying to Aemond.

"Indeed not!" Aegon agreed, crossing to pour himself another generous glass of wine. "Aemond here is the one with the package for you."

"That is quite enough." Aemond hissed, his jaw clenching as his lilac eye cut from you to his brother. "My lady." He gave you a curt bow and held out his arm for you to take. "Allow me to escort you elsewhere, the better to escape my inebriated brother."

"You can thank me later, Aemond!" Aegon called after the two of you as Aemond guided you away.

You had to remind yourself how to breath properly, the feel of Aemond's leather jerkin smooth beneath your fingertips as you entwined your arm with his. He smelled lovely, a combination of smoke, leather and spiced wine.

"I do apologize." Aemond intoned, inclining his head toward you as he spoke softly. "I do not even know your name."

"Y/N." You answered, your voice almost catching in your tightened throat.

"Y/N." He repeated, your name sounding sinfully good on his lips. "My brother gets certain...ideas in his head and will not be dissuaded once his course is set."

"What idea inspired him to lead me to you?" You asked, a mischievous spark lighting in your chest. "My prince." You remembered your manners at the last second.

"Please, call me Aemond." The two of you stepped together out onto a moonlit terrace, complete with rosebushes and archways covered in vines.

The night air was brisk, you subconsciously pulled Aemond's warm body closer to your own. You noted how he had not answered your question. "Aemond, then. I noticed you didn't seem a fan of the festivities."

"I enjoy feasts well enough."

"But not dancing?"

"No, not dancing."

You stood at the railing now, under a mossy archway, overlooking the red roofs of King's Landing, now bathed in silver light under the night sky. The waves of the sea far away sparkled merrily, catching your eyes momentarily before you turned to face the silver prince.

"What do you like, then?"

Aemond clasped his hands behind his back, his profile sharply illuminated by the moonlight. His eye flicked to your face, he was very close to you, closer than you had ever imagined you would be to a prince let alone a Targaryen.

"I enjoy reading. Swordplay..." He hesitated, turning away from the urban vista to give you his full attention.

You arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing along your lips. "And?"

"Hmm." He tilted his head at you, shining silken hair falling over his shoulder. "I enjoyed watching you play your harp." His eye widened slightly, as he straightened, catching himself leaning closer to your enticing smile. "That is to say, I enjoyed the music you were making."

"I'm surprised you heard it." You leaned an arm on the balcony railing afraid your knees were about to give out. "Harps are notoriously hard to hear in a setting such as a feast."

"I heard you." Aemond was still studying your face, seeming to like the little changes in expression he saw as your lips quirked up, your eyes crinkling at the corners, the scrunch of your nose. "You are quite skilled. Perhaps you would play for me sometime?"

"So long as Aegon isn't there."

Aemond chuckled at that. You wanted him to laugh again, it was a sound that sent shockwaves straight to your center.

"You're biting your lip, Y/N." Aemond's eye had found your mouth, lingering upon your lips as you wet them with your tongue.

"I just noticed something." You pointed to the space above your heads, a strand of foliage hung from the apex of the archway, white berries nestled amongst sprigs of green.

"What is that?" Aemond asked, looking up to where you pointed.

"You don't know what mistletoe is?" You looked aghast, pressing a dramatic hand to your heart. "It's a Yuletide tradition."

"I believe we've established I don't give much credence to festive traditions, Y/N." He seemed to like saying your name, waiting for you to explain what it was.

"When two people stand under a bundle of mistletoe they have to..." You trailed off, your boldness turning to sudden shyness as you realized what you were about to say and who you were speaking to.

"They...what?" Aemond prompted, looking again at the plant, sudden wariness upon his features.

"Kiss."

Aemond looked at you in surprise. "I'm sorry?" He chuckled. "That's a tradition? You're having me on."

"I promise you I'm not!" You blushed furiously.

Aemond seemed to be enjoying making you squirm. "You're making this up."

"I am not!"

"A clever scheme."

"I will bet you money that it's true." You felt lightheaded from the embarrassment. "Ask anyone inside."

"Kiss me then."

"I am not lying-what?" You must have misheard, you had to fight not to gawk up at the prince as he looked imperiously down at you.

"Since you're so adamant this mistroe forces two people to kiss..."

"Mistletoe." You corrected quickly.

"Then make good on your claim." He leaned into your space; you felt his breath upon your face. "Or else I suppose we will be stuck here for eternity, held captive by this plant."

"Aemond, we don't have to..." Your words caught in your suddenly dry mouth as Aemond hooked a slender finger beneath your chin, pulling you gently forward.

"I want to." He breathed, waiting for you to close the final distance separating you.

Your eyes roved across his angular features, his lilac eye turned silver in the moonlight, the leather eyepatch covering his other eye, a vertical scar running up his forehead and down his cheek. Your gaze fell to his lips, the very lips you had been daydreaming about not an hour earlier.

Your eyelashes fluttered, a sudden rushing sound filling your heated ears as you leaned forward, Aemond's finger on your chin moving trace your cheek as his lips parted.

As if guided by an invisible force your lips brushed against his, a wanton moan escaping your mouth that he captured as he pressed harder against you, pulling you by your waist flush against him.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

You tasted like starlight and mulled wine. Your body warm against his. Aemond could feel the soft well of your bosom flush to his chest, the enticing scent of you filling his lungs as he breathed you in.

Thank the gods for mistlewhatever, his mind was too full of you within his arms for him to think clearly. Aemond drank down your sighs of pleasure as he greedily moved his lips with yours, only pulling away slightly when the both of you needed to catch your breath.

"Did we satisfy the tradition?" He asked, his eye crinkling as he smiled at your eager expression.

Your hair was a little mussed from the intensity of your embrace, Aemond smoothed an unruly tress and tucked it behind your ear.

"I'm tempted to say 'no'." You quipped, finding your voice at last.

"I would like for you to play your harp for me later this evening, before I retire." Aemond kept his hands upon your waist, loathe to let you go. "Perhaps we can revisit this," he reached up, plucking the sprig of mistletoe from where it hung. "later." He pocketed the plant, relishing the way your cheeks flushed pink as your lovely intelligent eyes followed his movements.

"Where should I find you, my prin-Aemond?"

Aemond let his hands fall away from you at last, only to clasp your hand formally and press a warm kiss to your knuckles. He lingered there, enjoying the feel of your soft skin on his lips. He had to suppress the urge to flick his tongue out to taste you.

"The sitting room adjacent to the library. I will find you there after the festivities adjourn."

His gaze lingered on your upturned face, softly taking in your lovely expression.

"You're not going to ask me to dance?" You gave a mock pout, drawing his attention back to your enticing lips.

"Oh no, my lady." Aemond chuckled dryly. "Enchanting as you are, I do not indulge in dancing."

"Maybe I can change your mind one of these days."

He gave a pause, feeling the bundle of mistletoe inside his jacket. "I wouldn't rule that out as a possibility." He extended his arm to you. "May I escort you back to the feast?"

You shook your head. "Thank you, no. I need a moment...that is, I would like to enjoy the view a little longer."

Aemond watched as you turned back to the scenic vista of the sprawling city below. He allowed himself a moment of weakness, his eye trailing down along your body, taking in the way your skirt shifted in the light breeze, accentuating the curve of your hips and your full...he needed to depart.

With a final shallow bow Aemond turned briskly upon his booted heel and strode back toward the Yuletide festivities, silently wishing he could get away with remaining at your side for the rest of the evening and perhaps even longer. He had been gone from your presence for mere seconds and already craved you.

Aemond would never admit it out loud, but Aegon had been correct.

Aemond desired you.

And what he desired, he claimed.

#aemond fluff #aemond oneshot #aemond imagine #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen fic #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond #aemond one eye x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond kinslayer #house of the dragon aemond

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #? #Im tempted to use these in the au #some characters deserve some more fun names hehe #rise of change #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors #warriors names #warriors naming #warriors prefixes

[asleepinawell]

since i tempted a decent handful of my followers into fallen london i decided as recompense to make a guide/hints/tips thing to a few early on things that might not be as easy to pick up on. the first couple may be a little more obvious but some of the later ones are more obscure. enjoy, delicious friends!

1) Use Plans!!!! That little bookmark icon on the top right of an action will save it to your plans page so you can easily reference if you can't complete it now. great for remembering what you were doing and how many items you need. extremely good for ambitions

2) Use Your Opportunity Deck. It's easy to get caught up in the making your name stuff, but there's a lot of good and important things in your opportunity deck you can miss out on. Bronze cards often help open little stories even if it's not immediately obvious. You get a ten free actions card once a week in there too

3) Look Through the Social Activities. There's a lot of stuff buried in social activities, some of it not in the most logical places. You can resign from your current profession under send a message to a contact. If a friend sent you a letter to let you boost a skill you have to use it under epistolary matters -> sort through incoming mail. And more.

4) Training Professions. Enquirer, Minor Poet, Pickpocket, Tough. You don't have to do anything with these, they just give you a weekly boost in the associated stat when time the healer rolls around. Once you hit 70 on a stat the profession will no longer boost it and you can resign and pick up a new one for free. After you are a person of some importance you can look into getting a fancier job with more perks.

5) Favourable Circumstances. You may have noticed you get something called favourable circumstances every week with time the healer. This is an item in your inventory under curiosity. Its primary use is to force draw a specific opportunity card. When you're just starting out the best use may be to arrange a meeting with your contacts, which lets you draw a connected card of your choice (like urchins, hell, etc). This lets you get a favor right away so it's good to use it every week.

6) DON'T GO TO POLYTHREME. Look, I know the option is right there in the docks but it is a very confusing area and not that useful at low levels. I got stuck there once early on and may be slightly traumatized. Definitely go there later, maybe when you have your own ship and get the map for it.

7) Mrs Chapmans Boarding House. This is in Spite. The options there all give you a few of a resource that's often a pain in the ass to grind other ways. The amount scales with your base watchful. It is just a nice little free way to get some resources. The items available change every week on a four week rotation. See the season in soup guide on the wiki for more info.

8) Mr Chimes Grand Clearing Out Activities. This was an event that happened in the past but left behind a few activities that are unparalleled ways to gain some resources. These are: Descend to the Underclay Quarter in Spite, The Spider Symposium (head into the cellars) in the Singing Mandrake, Seeking Documents in the Sunken Embassy in Moloch Street, Hunt Bees in the University, Brawl with Dockers in the Blind Helmsman (not sure if the was part of mr chimes but the mechanics are similar), and LB Industries in the Blind Helmsman. They all work by gathering a certain amount of some item through the storylets and then handing it in for a resource reward. You generally get one nice reward and the rest is paid out in a low level resource, making it a decent grind for echoes as well (i use moloch st for that).

9) Expedition Supplies for your base camp. Descend to the Underclay Quarter mentioned in the point above is a fast way to get strong backed labor to cash in for supplies during your watchful making your name (and after). Go there, work with unfinished men, get 50 convincing falsehoods (the second option gives you 25 a pop) and send an unfinished man to spite for labor x3. This makes watchful myk so so much easier.

10) Buy Gear. All resources have a use so don't go spending them all like crazy, but it really is worth spending some to buy gear, yes, even +2 gear because if you have +2 in every slot that is a nice boost at a low level. Holiday events are also a great way to get a ton of very good free gear.

11) CP. Change points, basically XP. You need as much CP as the next level to reach that level. So you need 3CP to get to level 3, 4CP for level 4, etc (this caps at 70). You get more CP for succeeding in things that you have a lower chance of success for. 60-90% chances are a nice range to aim for. Also! You get CP for failing which also scales with your percentage chance of success. So if you have a 0% chance of success you may get way more CP than succeeding on something you had a high chance of success for (example: a 90% success gives you 2CP, a 0% failure gives you 4CP... this is why the weasel of woe is good).

12) What are the Bizarre/Dreaded/Respectable stats on gear used for? So you may have noticed that you sometimes get points of Making Waves. Once you become a person of some importance you have the ability to cash in making waves to get a stat called Notability. Notability can be used for getting advanced professions, upgraded lodgings, and more. BDR gear lowers the amount of making waves you need per level of notability. They're also used in checks later on much the way your base stats are and they have uses at the bone market when you get there. Basically, grab gear with them if you can but don't worry too much about how it all works now. It will make more sense when you get there.

13) Cross-Conversion Carousel. This is a slightly more advanced thing that you don't need to know about yet but can be very very useful even at low levels. You know how you can click on most resources in your inventory and combine a lot of low level ones into a few high level ones? There's a bunch you can also cross convert, meaning convert to a different category of item of the same level. These are: brilliant souls, tales of terror, compromising documents, memories of light, zee ztories, strangling willow absinthe, whisper-satin scrap, journal of infamy, correspondence plaques, mysteries of the elder continent, incendiary gossip, and memories of distant shores. You need 50 of one to convert it and you get 51 of the item you convert it to.

What this means is if you have 50 of ANY of these, you can turn it into 50 of any other by converting it around the loop until you get the one you need. This often saves you from having to grind items that can be annoying to get (mrs chapman gives several of these too to help you get the initial amount). ALSO if you notice some of the conversions give making waves which can be a decent way to grind them. See the wiki page here for more info.

14) Last but definitely not least: the wiki is your best friend. It has guides for everything. It tells you what every single action does. It tells you where to find resources. It has terrifying math graphs. Use it. Love it.

And there is also the fifth city wiki which has lore on it. It contains MASSIVE spoilers, but the lore of fallen london is obscure and spread out across multiple games now so sometimes you just wanna know wtf everyone is talking about.

15) Don't Look In Wells!!!!!!! Just. Do not. (Hunters Keep well is an exception. It is a very nice well).

#fallen london #flmp #mp #i feel like i forgot something important.... #there's just so much

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Judges Houses

2010

Part 2

When I found out I was in Cheryl’s group I was ecstatic. I have been a fan of girls aloud and Cheryl’s solo career. However, after I sang my song Cheryl felt being a solo artist wasn’t going to be right for me. Like Simon had said before she said I was missing something. So Cheryl rang up Simon and they had a discussion. I now stand outside of Simons house not really sure what’s going on

“Ok YN. Cheryl and I have spoken and we feel like you would do well in a group. So we would like to try that if your ok with that”

“Erm yeah of course”

“Ok come meet the groups” I follow Simon into the large house where I see many people sat on sofas. One I recognise from when I auditioned “I want to try you in Belle Amie first”

“Ok” I give Simon a small smile and nod. The girls stand up and we are asked to sing together. I can tell from the get go though our voices aren’t blending right and I don’t feel like we have much chemistry, so Simon suggests the group of boys, one direction. At first I’m apprehensive, a girl in a boy band? Well it will no longer be a boy band if I was to join. But as soon as we start singing I can tell our voices suit

“You were the missing puzzle piece” Simon comments “not only will you bring in the girls but now the boys as well. You look good together. Do you think you can work together?” Simon asks. I look at the boys who all smile and nod their heads. I look back to Simon and nod my head “right you better all head off, get to know each other and start rehearsing” with that Simon walks away

“It’s good to see you again YN”

“You too” Niall pulls me into a hug

“You know each other?” a guy with curly hair says

“Yeah YN and I met during the auditions. YN meet Zayn, Liam, Harry and Louis”

“Hi” I smile giving the boys a little wave

“So you’re our missing piece then?” Harry asks smiling a little

“Welcome to One Direction YN” Zayn says and we all fall into a group hug.

Over the next few days we all get to know one another as well as rehearsing to sing in front of Simon. Unfortunately while we had a beach day Louis cut his foot while in the sea meaning he ended up going to hospital. We sit outside the house waiting for him to return. We film our VT for the X-Factor

“Louis was in the sea earlier and he cut up his foo’ and it’s swollen up pri’y bad” Harry says

“We’re all panicking a little because we don’t know when he’s gonna get here and what’s gonna happen ya know with the performance”

“And for us that’s really bad because we haven’t had much time as it is, we’ve just been put together and YN only joined us 2 days ago” Liam continues from Zayn.

Thankfully we don’t have to wait long and Louis is back. We all run over to him and wrap him up into the biggest hug

“Do you think you’ll be ok to perform?” I ask looking at his swollen foot

“Yeah, just hurts a bit when I put pressure on it”

“What was it?” Liam asks

“Sea urchin”

“Simon’s waiting for you guys” one of the produces says walking over to us

“Ok let’s do this!” Zayn claps his hands and we follow the guy to where Simon is sat

“Well I can tell which one of you got stung. Is it painful?”

“Very very painful”

“You alright now?”

“Yeah, good”

“Are you feeling confident?”

“We are now” Liam says smiling. Music starts playing and we start singing Torn. Liam starts off with Harry then coming in with the pre-chorus. Zayn, Liam and Niall do the ‘ooo’s’ while Louis and Harry do backing vocals while I sing the chorus.

After we have finished performing, Simon makes his decision while we wait nervously

“Do you think we’ve done enough?” I ask picking at my nails

“I hope so” Zayn breaths out

“I’m not sure I could handle another no”

“You never had a no. You were told you were missing something and now you’ve got us” Niall puts his arm around my shoulder for a hug

“No matter what happens we are a group, we’re friends and will stand by one another” Louis tells us. Simon then calls us and we stand in front of him, arms around one another

“Do you understand why I did what I did?” He asks which we all nod our heads in reply “now you guys have had a disadvantage not only being put together, but also adding YN into the mix, you’ve not had as much time togethe as other groups have. However on a positive note it works. It’s a yes. Don’t disappoint me”

“Yes!” Harry yells. Niall picks me up and swings me around then the others join us in a hug before Harry and Niall then run over to Simon to hug him

“I’m so impressed with all of you and I mean that”

“Thank you so much” tear start to fall down my face

“Don’ cry you’ll make m’cry” Harry says hugging me

“Sorry” I laugh. I can’t believe it were Simons final three!

I immediately phone my dad to tell him we’re through to the live shows, I then ring my best friend and my boyfriend who are all ecstatic.

#6th one direction member #one direction x reader #sixth one direction member #one direction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles imagine

[rielzero]

Just saw your post about ascended Astarion and male Tav fanfic. I am willing to rise to the challenge

If you need any prompts! here's some concept I've danced with in my head (up for anyone to use) inspired by my own character's potential AUs. Please do not claim ownership over the ideas, I'd love to see people's different spins. Please keep it to Male Tav, there's so many Female Tav fics out there already- I had ideas specifically with a male character in mind. M x M focus is preferred. I'm not bi or pan, so anything hinting to tav being exclusively gay is nice.

THESE ARE all PROMPTS / IDEAS not demands. I'm not here to control anyone's creative progress :V

I'm just a nerd be nice

Brain Damage Tav has used the tadpole powers but refuses to become half-illitid and keeps it how it is. Tav ascends Astarion- but is convinced by Jaheira or someone else that he is incapable of feeling love now and becomes afraid of him- (Astarion still is very much capable of love) Astarion responds of course like a scorned ex, and lies through his teeth when the break up happens and breaks tav's heart. Timeskip- it is revealed Tav's altered brain still has mindflayer powers, but because of the trauma of the final fight he suffers from severe memory loss and pretty much got themselves in a position were he is dying- only for Astarion to come around and save him by turning him- then be met with guilt and over-protectiveness when he realizes Tav does not remember their time together anymore. (would work for a series, this concept is what I intend to use for an AU of my character but it would be very different.) Lots of angst but soft ascended astarion towards male tav :3 very gentle- very protective.

You were There too AU were Tav was kept by Cazador but never turned, just kept as a snack- so Astarion knows him and they may have fallen in love during that time. During the ritual Cazador threatens to replace Astarion with Tav- Astarion goes feral.

I forget you're an Urchin Playing into the fact that Astarion was a corrupted Noble- knows what luxury life is like- inspired by how my tav is an urchin and very unfamiliar with luxury- Tav is Astarion's consort- but is very awkward not knowing ANYTHING about noble life, from etiquette to wearing jewelry and fancy garbs. Wholesome stuff- Probably lots of fluff. Astarion spoiling Tav and showing him off.

Three of them AU were Gale and Astarion and Tav are a in a polycule, after ascension Astarion becomes a little overly possessive over Tav- Gale notices a bit late and feels left out, but supports his loved ones new life goals... Of world domination.

I'm married, get over it Au were male tav has an horrible ex who breaks in the mansion because he thinks tav is enslaved to Astarion- but he's not- He's just as evil as Astarion. And they're very affectionate- Astarion enjoys rubbing it into the ex's face. Extra points if the ex is a human cleric, paladin, or bard with too much facial hair. (COUGHS)

Warlock? cool Any fic that plays into the warlock theme openly for tav, not similary to Wyll- all though I don't want to restrict anyone to a specific type of patron. (my patron is a great old one) keep in mind there's warlock patrons outside of the subclasses in the bg3 game if you need inspiration. If tav's patron is female, give them a mother-son kind of bond since tav is gay.

Other, Tropes I like described vaguely cuz my brain stoopid but ideas that can be expanded into one fic or more -oh shit you're dying don't worry I can fix it with a bite -you're so beautiful I want a 100 paintings of you akjdkhgkfhgk -The gods literally made you to ruin me god damn it I should've known -tav is small / fragile looking man but he can stab you 100 times over -tav can sing, or is creative but he doesn't like sharing this side of him (loki is 100% exactly this lol) hes easily embarrassed -tav is internally panicking because he is very very very gay. -tav has scars too and is very insecure about his body. -overprotectiveness, lots of handholding keep you close kinda stuff -wholesome physical affection, does not have sexual implications even if they talk dirty or flirt silly -words being used like petite, twink- or cute in the right context. -maybe a fic focussing on tav being half elf and the struggles that come with it. Otherwise leave race up to reader. -Tav was already a vampire before they met, or is a dhampir -Astarion and tav knew each other 200 years ago -I will pet you aggressively and affectionally and you will like it -who the fuck are you drawing? wait thats me??? oh -Astarion is creative too and might doodle. -love at first sight but in denial.. cuz its funny -tav has insomnia and needs cuddles... -tav is a necromancer and familiar with vampire lore. -anything reflecting the vampire bride/groom lore in a scene. (there's a reddit post explaining this) -Vampire hunters coming after tav in attempt to hurt Astarion because he's become pretty untouchable -Vampire Tav does not want to feed on his victims because he finds that too intimite -Vampire tav is a vampire lord too- but not an ascended one- and he isn't corrupted by greed. -Astarion technically can compel Tav, but has no desire to do so and voices this openly to anyone who tries to argue Tav is a slave. -If Astarion hurts tav by accident in any way he feels horrible and will shower him in gifts or thousands of love language things just to affirm that it was an oopsie and he did not want to do that. He'd never do that willingly. -consent consent consent anything with consent- love language is consent -tav was a sex worker himself before they met but not anymore -lots of fluff stuff -scheming husbands plotting the downfall of the world together, bonus points if tav is the mastermind and a genius -Polycule with Gale, either as Triad, or Triangle -Admiring from afar, staring- lots of staring- intense consential staring -astarion beating up tav's abusers while tav sips from a chalice like a spoiled consort -dramatic vampire parties and all the normie vampire lords are scared of Astarion and his consort -vampire politics are kind of like ballroom hissing contests with fancy banquets and showing off your partner -I will go feral if someone hurts or touches you -steer clear of the consort, or the master will gut you -jealous vampire lord tries to seduce tav but tav is very loyal to astarion and not having it -astarion gets a cleric or powerful mage in his court just to revive tav if tav dies -You offended my husband? I'm setting your village on fire -Everyone thinks the consort tav is weak- but the consort might actually be more dangerous oh no -None of the above lines have to be necessarily restricted by ingame universe, can all be AU- does not have to include the whole mindflayer drama. Rule of Cool.

Avoid these please? I personally dislike that -misgendering tav (babygirl, queen, girly, strictly effeminate- any words that might demasculinize tav, as a gay man this stuff makes me really uncomfortable) -Overly describing tav's features as if they're set without leaving it open to the reader (long hair, skin color, favorite colors, etc) -Astarion knew tav when tav was still a child and Astarion was an adult. -Astarion abusing tav physically, just.. Please no. -...they're teenagers in high school... *dies* -brainwashing.. No offense to people who like some tropes I don't- You're fine :V We all have different tastes!

Headcanons for how Ascension works that you can use (inspired by ingame dialogue and such) -Tav isn't a regular spawn, but a vampire groom- He was turned differently, not buried for 2 days. Astarion can sense Tav is in danger if he is a groom, or sense strong emotions from him. -Tav is not immune to sunlight unless he stays in close range of Astarion. (based on dialogue) -Astarion might be a bit warmer to the touch since he is a living vampire now. He does not have to feed on blood- but Tav still requires blood and is cold to the touch.

Might edit this post later with more.

#bg3 #male tav #astarion x male tav #astarion x male reader #prompts #these are some of my preferences #vampire #ascended astarion #astarion bg3 #fanfiction #fanfic prompts #ideas

[searchingforserendipity25]

celrond, 26? 😭🥺

Thanks so much for the ask @i-am-a-lonely-visitor! Here are some kisses on some scars <3

-

Celebrían found them very appealing, particularly when Elrond took the pestle in hand.

'Do not laugh,' she demanded, laughing herself, tapping him with her fan in that light, suggestive fashion that had been all the rage in the Eriador of her youth. 'It’s all in the grip, and how clear with intent your eyes go. Such beautiful hands you have, beloved.'  

Legs round and bare, she tilted on the edge of their rumpled bed, the better to watch him play apothecary for himself; and laughed, lower in her throat, when his ears warmed at the warmth of her admiration, and he proved very easy to distract from his tasks and trap back into bed.

Celebrían was generous of heart, and strange-minded at times. Elrond's hands were accounted good, life-saving, gracious and kind, and most days he did not disdain them at all; but they were not beautiful.

There were scars in them from old battles and skirmishes, accidental prickles when picking sea urchins from the sea pools of Sirion - nicks from weapons training and sparring, from long campaigns and hunting trips.

Tough calluses littered his palm, the likes of which no elven warrior or scribe, no lord or harpist showed; and in the cold the skin broke, red and angry, chafing at the winter, even as flowers bloomed through the frost when he walked his red and angry feet on it.  

The last time he had pressed his palm to his brother's, there had been fine lines already on Elros' hands.

Since then, none remained to share his insights with, no one who cared particularly for his advice on the brewing of Peredhel remedies. He brewed his own oils, in his stillroom in Lindon; in Imladris, he taught his children to work the copper cauldron and the ladle, the grinding stone and the glass vial.

Arwen liked dying best; Elladan enjoyed sparring with his mother, Elrohir played with poisons; and all of them carried little pots of balm in the pocket of their childish aprons, in case their fingers ached in the evenings after they played outside.

In high summer he sang to the bees in their homes, led them singing when it was time to swarm, and picked the honey himself, to offer with slick fingers for Celebrían - tithe and right, to be given over to the lady of the valley.

-

Elrond remembered his mother rubbing honey on his father's hands. Earendil's hands had seemed immense to him, broad and strong and rope-burned, made harsh by salt. He was so careful when he held Elros and Elrond - 

He remembered; he was nearly certain he remembered it. The past was never as unclouded in his heart as the future.

-

Celebrían followed his movements from the sick bed for many unspeaking days.

The light of her eyes, so dimmed, was wary with terror when she lay watching him grind athelas and lavender and honeycomb - the strength of his arms turned into a threat for her to be wary of. Any strength, of any kind - any instrument might be turned into a source of violence.

She did not scream, awake or asleep; the fear was a long and horrible spell, an enduring half-dream from which his gentlest touch could not rouse her, only return her to a different form of torment. There was no safety for her, even in Imladris; no potion or cantrip to heal body or soul, and no comfort to be had. 

In Valinor, Celebrían made her own ointments.

For the tending of scars; to massage her gnarled aches, perfume her wrists and neck, the dip of her spine. Her eyes were clear, keen and keener than they had been, steadier in their vigilance. Elrond embraced this version of his lady no less tightly; he curled into her height, and laughed as he wept when she swept him off her feet.

As a patient in Lórien, and a student amidst the gardens where every dreamer walked at least once in their life, Celebrían had learned much from the Lords and Ladies of the West, and more still from elves ancient and young alive.

In his absence, she had wrought against her war-fans anew, bound them with lace and poison, ridden with Oromë's Hunters, danced among Vána's revels, wept with Nienna and spoken with her own voice the glory and grief of those that loved Midde-Earth and had lost it.

The lady of the valley, a lover of sweetness, kept her door ever-open to her kin and her husband's without differentiation - kept it open for him, when at last Elrond was gladly swept into the shelter of her love and rested there for a time, nursing new wounds and sharing his grief, weary through and through as he was. They tended to each other in the evenings, bandages and oils laid out on the same desk; Elrond wept a little more, the first time Celebrían touched him, and there was not a shadow of fear in her eyes, only the cold memory of it in his heart.

-

They grasped hands and wound their arms, walking in the twilight through the high trellises like a courting pair. Celebrían's little finger was a small stump, her braces cold against his arm; Elrond's bones, grown frail and strangely hollow after so long carrying Vilya, were nestled in hers with care as they walked up the hill to the painted walls of her house.

In the spring after Arwen was wed and lost, Celebrían taught Elrond how to work the herbs of her garden and gather them to her precise requirements, and how to work the tight aches working in the garden or standing too long left her with, even in the Blessed Land.

 The stars were the same all throughout Arda, but brighter in these skies; and some creeping ivies with potent smells and sweetly cooling leaves blossomed only at night, their petals gleaming with the very same silver of Celebrían's tresses.

Her scar-ridged palms chafed against Elrond's lips. They tasted of lavender and starlight when he pressed a glancing touch of his mouth to them, of nectars whose names he knew not yet and was only starting to learn now.

'Lovely beyond all other sights,' he said, coy and sly, when his lady pressed them against his cheeks to tilt him for a greater kiss; and Celebrían laughed merrily at his plight, because his skin ran warm with blood under her grasp, and his knees no less liable to bend like reeds when she pulled him back into her arms.

#kiss ask #celebrian #elrond #my fics #thank you for the ask!! <33 #lotr #lotr fics #celebrían x elrond #celrond

[lithuanianking]

Controversial opinion:

Christian borle was not a good orin and arguably the worse "recorded" one" let me explain

I'm not really a big fan of Christian borle in the first place,he cheated on SUTTON FOSTER and is allegedly kind of a asshole but people just let him get away with that. But I'm not hear to talk about him as a person and not even him as a actor just him in this role.

Now why did I say recorded? I based this off of cast recordings and YouTube videos,so maybe borle was good live. Maybe.

Ok it starts off and immediately he sounds bored throughout and it sounds like he's trying to do a voice but he's not really doing a good job of it. Also he like puts emphasis on "bash in its head" which is good I like that but when he says "you'll be a dentist" there's no emphasis?? Like that's supposed to be this big reveal and ita just "yeah I'm a dentist you all knew that" and I mean we did but still.

The next time he emphasis something is the word pain but it's like he was told to speak up because he was being to quiet. Him intrupting the urchins Is also bland. I could go on but he's overall just not campy or really stand out.

Being different is like really important with the dentists like they are all different from eachotther but they still have the same elements.

Douglas sills does this thing were he holds the note and it sounds kinda oprea-ish(idk how to describe it),franc luz does his whole little den-e-tist thing,Taran killam acte like he's on nitrous oxide,Russell Nielsen has like a higher voice and is more flamboyant,Peter McNally is pretty simmaler to Steve Martin's but he's still really unique,and speaking of Steve martin loom how amazing Steve is! He had no Steve martin to base his performance on!.

In conclusion,don't think Christian should have been casted as orin. His singing is obviously not bad but to be orin you gotta act you can't just be good at singing.

#little shop of horrors #lsoh #orin scrivello #orin lsoh #orin scrivello dds

[arealphrooblem]

The Promise

Synopsis: An officer of the Empire makes an offer of marriage to his former friend, now a rebel and his enemy, to honor an old promise they had when they were street orphans.

The rebels he put in separate cells, spread across the detention block. He knew a daring rescue would be fronted by their friends — they were always making reckless stupid decisions,  risking the many for the sake of the few. But at least this way they would have to break into each cell separately. 

And they wouldn’t know who would be interrogated in what order. 

To be truthful, the antagonist did not care much for information. He captured this cell for one purpose only. The rest could rot or scatter or break free for all he cared. So long as he kept one rebel in particular. 

Seeing their face through the small grate in the door twisted something in his gut. It had changed so much in the intervening years — baby fat melted and hardened into sharp gaunt lines. Body grown into sinewy strength. Scars. 

But their eyes were still the same, wide and dark and kind. Expressive eyes that betrayed their every emotion. And their body still small and scrappy and dirty. 

So many things had changed since their days at orphaned street urchins, their paths diverged into wildly opposite directions. What used to be his only ally in the world had turned into his enemy and vice versa. 

Well that would change by the end of the day. Folding his emotions up carefully, tucking them away and smoothing his face into an apathetic mask, the antagonist took one silent breath and then stepped through the door into the interrogation room. 

The rebel sat at one side of the table, hands changed to a rung  in the middle, legs chained to the chair. He fought the slice of guilt at the sight of it. 

The shock of seeing him lit up the rebel’s eyes. He knew he looked much different than the last time they saw each other, wild hair combed back and tamed, skin spotless of dirt, body tall and strong in his uniform. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize his own self in the mirror. 

“Hello, old friend,” he said. 

“We haven’t been friends in a long time,” the rebel said, the accent he tried hard to banish singing through their voice. 

“True,” he acknowledged, though he never stopped considering them as such even as they blew up his ships, cut supply runs, drew more rebels to their cause. 

They stared at each other, drinking the other in. He could see the rebel struggling to hide the pain and yearning at the sight of him, but their eyes gave it away, as always. 

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” his friend said finally. They swallowed. “You will have to kill me.”

“I’m not interested in information,” he said. “And I’m not going to kill you.”

Wariness cross their face. “Then what do you want?”

“You,” he said simply. 

Then he pulled out the crisp folded paper from his pocket and slid it across the table. His friend gave him one more searching look before dipping their gaze to the paper. He watched in breathless anticipation as they took in the information. Then their gaze jerked abruptly back up, eyes sharp and glaring.  

“I don’t understand,” they said slowly. 

“It’s a marriage contract,” he replied. 

“I understand that. It’s the rest I don’t get. What do you want me to do with this?”

They were being deliberately obtuse but the antagonist was happy to spell it out for them. 

“I want you to marry me.”

The rebel had no answer to that. Only speechless, suspicious shock. 

“I know you don’t agree with my choices,” he said, “but I chose them to give us both a better life. I promised you that.   I went to look for you after basic training and you were gone. When I finally found you again . . .you were with them.”

They glared at him. “The Empire is the reason why we grew up starving on the streets with no parents. Of course I joined the people trying to eradicate it.”

“Eradicating the Empire is not going to eradicate tragedy. We could have been orphans either way. At least now I have no worries about where I will sleep next and when my next meal is coming.” He nodded at their ragged clothes. “Can you say the same?”

“I’d rather starve than get fat off of other people’s suffering.”

“Doesn’t that get old, starving?” he asked softly.  “Doesn’t it get old, never sleeping in the same place for long, never feeling safe, never knowing if you would survive the next day? Aren’t you tired of it?”

The rebel had no answer to that, biting  their lip against the sudden wetness in their eyes. Because he knew the answer. It’s what drove him into the Empire’s arms, knowing what they did to his people. And in basic training he slept all the way through the night without fear for the first time in his life. He felt full after dinner for the first time in his life. He could predict each day for the first time in his life. All things he would happily give his friend and they wouldn’t even have to work for it.

“Marry me and I will release you rebel friends in my cells. No muss, no fuss, no hair harmed on their heads.”

They were too noble to take the easy way out for themselves, but perhaps they would do it to save someone else. Make them feel like a martyr. Already he could see the wheels turning in their naked gaze. 

“Sleep on it,” he said, standing up. “I will expect your answer in the morning.”

The answer the next morning was yes. 

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #my writing #not a prompt #writeblr #fantasci tumblr #the promise #marriage of convenience

[cometomecosette]

"Les Misérables" musical character interpretations: Éponine

Next in my series of characterization comparisons: every audience's darling, Éponine.

These five interpretations of the character are the main five I've seen in various performances. But they can also be combined with each other to create still other portrayals. For example, in the bootleg video of the US tour performance from 2000, Sutton Foster's Éponine is "the Wolf Child," but her natural charm and humor adds an underlying layer of "the Gamine Next Door." Whereas Joanna Ampil's Éponine in the same year's London video – from what I've seen of it – is also a "Wolf Child," but with the underlying fragility of "the Waif." And when I recently saw the current US tour, I thought Christine Heessun Hwang's Éponine was a cross between "the Gamine Next Door" and "the No-Nonsense Street Kid."

The Gamine Next Door

            This is a simple, straightforward portrayal of the musical’s Éponine, who projects an air of easy likability. First and foremost, she’s a spunky, sassy, cheerful street urchin, much like an older female Gavroche. She might occasionally hint at the true sadness of her life (i.e. “Look what’s become of me”), but she always quickly hides it behind a bright, cheeky smile. And as her name implies, her interactions with Marius have an air of a tomboyish “girl next door,” with free and easy playfulness and warmth. She might sometimes add a hint of flirting, but she never crosses the line into bad manners. This isn’t to say that she can’t be gritty when necessary: her “Attack on Rue Plumet” can be very fierce and angry, although she’s more likely than some Éponines to mix relatable fear with her defiance. Nor does her lighthearted veneer mean she’s immune to suffering. When she’s alone, she gives heartbreaking voice to her starry-eyed yearning for Marius and her abject anguish that he doesn’t return her love. Of all possible Éponines, this one is the most idealized compared to the novel’s Éponine, which obviously won’t suit everyone’s taste. But in general, audiences are guaranteed to like her, pity her, and relate to her. Teenage girls, in particular, who are in the throes of their own first unrequited loves, will embrace her as one of their own. 

The Waif

            This Éponine is the most vulnerable of them all. She’s likely to be small, delicate, and “kittenish” in appearance. She’s more soft-spoken than other Éponines too, although still with a powerful singing voice for “On My Own,” and with a gentler, more girlish demeanor. Of course, she does affect a tough, sassy veneer, boasts about her street smarts, and stands up to her father and Patron-Minette with all the necessary fierceness. But that veneer is more fragile than glass. She constantly seeks Marius’s attention with a look of wistful yearning – even if he fails to see it, we can – and when they interact, her teasing is obviously a cover for the shyness and awkwardness she feels, knowing how out of her league he is. Nor is anger and aggression her first response to danger. In “Attack on Rue Plumet,” expect her to try to reason with the men at first, and to only turn defiant when they won’t listen. Above all else, the audience will remember the tenderness of her longing for Marius and her raw anguish that he’ll never be hers. Where other ‘Ponines express their pain without crying, this one’s rendition of  “On My Own” will more likely be drenched in tears. Throughout the show, the audience will want to hold her. shelter her, and comfort her, so in “A Little Fall of Rain,” however sad the circumstances, they’ll be glad that Marius finally does.

The Wolf Child

            This feisty tomboy is very much a street urchin, not a street waif, and very much the Thénardiers’ daughter. She’s a grubby yet self-assured, iron-willed survivor, just like her father, and she has more than a little of her mother’s brashness and temper. Among Patron-Minette or with Gavroche, she’s clearly “one of the guys,” and when the time comes to fight off her father and the gang at Rue Plumet, her anger and ferocity are positively feral. Expect Montparnasse to get a good kick or punch if he dares to bring his knife near her throat. Her teasing of Marius is bold, boisterous, and physical: expect to see her pushing and pulling him around in a very unladylike manner. This girl is determined to gain his attention, and apart from brief moments of despair, she clings stubbornly to the hope that he’ll fall in love with her someday. But in “On My Own,” she’s forced to admit that she’s been fooling herself. She faces this sad truth with heartache, as all Éponines do, but with anger too. Anger at Marius for his blindness and failure to appreciate her, at the world for being empty when he’s not with her, and at herself for being vulnerable in this way, when she’s usually strong enough for anything. Of course, her story ends in tenderness, with her final moments of bliss in Marius’s arms. But what the audience will remember most are her toughness and her fiery passion.

The Wild Urchin

            This girl comes as close to the novel’s Éponine as the musical allows. Physically she’ll probably be dirtier than other ‘Ponines, with bad posture and skittish movements that recall an abused dog or a stray cat. And more than any other musical ‘Ponine, she gives off an air of mental instability. Yet she combines it with a lively, free-spirited nature, and the result is a wild, whimsical, childlike quality that’s strangely endearing, even as it earns pity. She “frolics about,” swinging her legs as she sits, playing with her skirt, kicking stones in the road, or casually lying down and stretching out on the pavement. With Marius she’s even more forward and unladylike than the Wolf Child, freely invading his personal space, and sometimes trying to flirt in a way that recalls her father with the girls at his inn. This might make even Hugo’s Éponine blush, but it drives home the point that her social skills are lacking. She strives hungrily for Marius’s attention, but between her upbringing and her mental state, she doesn’t know how to begin to win his heart. She’s also more ashamed of how awkward and “odd” she is than she pretends to be, which we see when she’s alone, along with her wistful dreams and the pain of her hopeless love. She’s a “crazy homeless girl” whom in real life, we might try to avoid on the street, but we’re forced to understand her, empathize, and care for her anyway.

The No-Nonsense Street Kid

            This ‘Ponine is less fierce than the Wolf Child, but she has a similar toughness, and though she’s quieter than other ‘Ponines, it’s not a gentle quietness like the Waif’s, but a hard quietness. Her usual demeanor is sullen yet stolid, unhappy yet resigned to her lot and ready to “tough out” anything. She stands up to her father and the gang with hard, calm defiance and mocking disdain, and though she can be sassy and playful like all Éponines, her humor is drier and more subdued than most. Her only genuine smiles are reserved for Marius. Yet she might be a mild tsundere toward him, as they say, teasing him in an “annoying little sister” style, but closing herself up and pulling away if he offers her too much friendship. She doesn’t expect him to fall in love with her; she knows it’s foolish to hope. But she can’t help but hope anyway. She wants to be resigned to living without him, but though she tries, she can’t conquer her anguish, yearning, and secret fragility. Even when dying, she’ll still be tough, walking away from Marius to try to take care of herself, only to collapse; only when Marius takes the initiative and holds her will she finally show him her inner tenderness. This is different from Hugo’s Éponine, as is her grounded personality compared to the free-spirited Wild Urchin that Hugo wrote. But this portrait of a “hard nut” slowly cracking is moving in a different way.

More comparisons to come!

#les mis #les miserables #musical #eponine #characterization #comparison #tw: violence mention #tw: death

[i-miss-lotor]

So I romanced Astarion and let him ascend and I'm not going to lie, I always had a bit of a hate towards people who look down on me and call me or well, my characters, pet and such. And Astarion didn't change that, especially with the degradation part

But

Imagining the future where my character slowly becomes miserable with Astarion because while he does love her, he doesn't see her as his equal. And I mean even if you want to break up with him after the ascension and defeated brain he just doesn'tlet you (though im not there yet, i just read it somewhere). Imagining him slowly becoming furious, compelling my character to do things, to love him and then anger turns into desperation and hell, he just wants her, what can he do to make her love him again, what does she want, he will give it to her

Anyway I just want them to be happy, then miserable, then to slowly learn to love each other again with Astarion begrudgingly being a tiny bit nicer to others (cause my character mostly likes being nice but also she was an urchin, she's not above blackmail and deception and such. Ohh plus she's a bard, imagine Astarion wanting her to sing again but she doesn't so he makes her and it just breaks the trust again and again

And a scene where she escapes and then Astarion finds her and brings hell with him and kills whoever decided to help her and he's slowly breaking her spirit from the strong and defying woman she was, not realising at first that it's breaking him too.

(I especially like that little movement, swinging himself a bit when you ask if you can talk about your relationship with him and he responds "yes, my treasure?" *happy swingies, he's so happy and cute* and then cuts to him being angry and desperate and sad that his love doesn't look at him with adoration anymore, that the look he receives is not even angry but empty)

And the realization that oh no, did he became another Cazador? But no, he is better than him, he doesn't treat you like he was treated! ...does he?

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #idk what tav stands for so uh #also im just a sucker for... well i guess i can call this redemption? #sorry my thoughts just went haywire with the act 3 romance scene and i had to let it out #even if it is on tumblr #hhh i want to leave the bots are so annoying but im not going to twitter fuck that #ah wait i realised what words i was looking for! #its not redemption although i very much like that too #its me breaking him #i love when arrogant overpowered beings lose something and desper then finally realise they have to change #i want to make astarion cry like he did over cazador's corpse #it was heartbreaking and beautiful and it would be so delicious if it was over his lover #the first person he ever truly cared about - gone and empty because of Him