#[Io -drabbles-]

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

today ended up kinda busy but tmrw is the day i catch up on my tbr >:3 for real this time >:33

[mrskillingjoke]

Fandom: Bud Spencer and Terence Hill movies

Movie: Gott vergibt, Django nie! / Dio perdona io no!

Pairing: Cat/Hutch

Language: German

Words: 773

Title: Teil 1 Wasser

Sie waren, nachdem Hutch verarztet wurde weiter geritten und Hutch bewegte sich wieder wie er selbst. Sie waren noch auf der Suche nach einem geeigneten Ort.

Sie hielten an, es wurde spät und sie müssten noch essen. Hutch stöhnte angestrengt, stand vom Wagen auf und lief direkt zum Fluss.  Er zog sein Hemd aus, tauchte es Unterwasser, dann wischte er sich damit grob über die Brust und unter die Achseln.

Cat lehnte sich zurück und beobachtete ihn grinsend, als hätte er nichts besseres zu tun.

„Komm rüber her! Du stinkst bis zum Himmel!“ rief Hutch grollend und funkelte Cat warnend an.

„Ach was, es ist gerade so gemütlich hier.“

Cat schüttelte den Kopf und grinste weiter. Innerlich hoffte er, dass Hutch nicht darauf bestand. Seit dem Brunnen, war Wasser  nicht gerade sein bester Freund. Er hatte es die letzten Tage geschickt vermieden Wasser überhaupt anzufassen.

Alleine der Gedanke daran, ließ ihn atemlos werden und sein Herz raste unangenehm.

Leider hatte Hutch wohl nichts davon ihn alleine zu lassen.

„Mensch wasch dich, oder ich schmeiße dich selbst rein.“

„Das will ich sehen.“

Cat konnte es einfach nicht lassen, Hutch ein bisschen zu provozieren.

Doch schnell merkte er, dass das eine schlechte Idee war, denn Hutch warf sein Hemd auf einen nahe am Ufer liegenden Stein und kam mit großen aggressiven Schritten auf ihn zu. Cat setzte sich schnell auf. Er rutschte auf der Bank zurück, aber Hutch war schon bei ihm und packte ihn von hinten am Hosenbund .

Mit einem überraschten Laut und aufgerissenen Augen wurde Cat ruckartig auf Hutchs Schulter gehoben.

„Lass mich runter!“ rief Cat wütend, auch wenn er innerlich immer panischer wurde, je näher er den Fluss kam.

„Wenn die Katze nicht selbst baden will, dann komm ich eben.“ grummelte Hutch amüsiert.

Cat begann zu zappeln und versuchte verzweifelt sich zu befreien. Er schlug so hart er konnte auf Hutchs Rücken, versuchte genug Schwung zu finden, um ihn in den Bauch oder die Brust zu treten, aber Hutchs Griff um ihn war eisern und er ging weiter, als spüre er gar nichts.

„Nein, lass mich los!“ Cats Stimme wurde lauter und zitterte vor Anspannung. Hutch wurde langsamer, als er näher an den Fluss kam.

„Bitte...“ wimmerte Cat ängstlich.

Atemlos, weil er das Gefühl hatte wieder zu ertrinken. Kalt, nass und dunkel, seine Lungen brannten vor Not, endlich wieder Luft zu atmen und sein Mund und Nase füllten sich mit kalter Nässe, die ihn verschluckte.

Hutch hatte bei der puren Panik in der Stimme seines Freundes innegehalten. Er stand auf den nassen Kieseln, die in den Fluss mündeten und ließ Cat runter.

Dieser war blass und trat panisch ein paar Schritte zurück, bis er nicht mehr auf den kleinen Pfützen und nassen Kieseln stand.

Er sah Hutch verschwommen an und atmete tief um sich zu beruhigen.

Cat spürte, wie die Verlegenheit für sein Verhalten über ihn kam und sah auf den Boden.

Er hörte wie Hutch an ihm vorbei ging und atmete tief durch.

‚Verdammte Scheiße!‘ dachte er nur.

Es war nicht so, dass er Hutch nicht vertraute. Im Gegenteil er vertraute Hutch mehr als jeden anderen auf dieser Welt. Aber sich ihm gegenüber so verletzlich zu machen, war nervenaufreibend.

Sie waren beide nicht kleinzukriegen. Ein gutes Team, dass jeden besiegt. Sie zeigten keine Schwächen, die Vergangenheit bedeutete ihnen nichts.

Aber Cat war schwach genug um sich von ein bisschen Wasser komplett aus der Fassung bringen zu lassen.

Er hörte kaum Hutchs Schritte, die wieder an ihm vorbei gingen.

„Waschen musst du dich. Da führt kein Weg dran vorbei.“ Cat zuckte zusammen und nickte.

Er riss seinen Kopf hoch, als er „Fang!“ hörte und fing gerade rechtzeitig das nasse Stoffstück.

Cat sah Hutch sprachlos an und öffnete den Mund.

„Gib mir deine Lumpen.“ sagte Hutch bloß.

Cat lächelte und grinste dann, bevor er sein Hemd auszog und es dem anderen zuwarf.

Er atmete beruhigend ein und aus, während er das nasse Tuch über seinen Oberkörper rieb, um Schmutz und Schweiß zu entfernen.

Er sah Hutch an und hielt sich dadurch davon ab von dem nassen Gefühl auf seiner Haut durchzudrehen. Zögernd kam er näher zum Fluss und beobachtete Hutch genauer.

Dieser blickte kurz zu ihm auf und hob die Augenbraue.

Cat kniete sich hin und versuchte an einer seichten Stelle den Stoff auszuwaschen. Er unterdrückte ein Zucken als seine Hände das Wasser berührten.

Er zog sie schnell wieder aus dem Fluss, er spürte Hutchs Blick auf sich und beruhigte sich dadurch.

Er wischte sich schnell nochmal über seinen Oberkörper, Gesicht, Achseln und warf Hutch dann das Tuch zurück. Dann ging er schnellen Schrittes zurück zum Wagen.

„Was haben wir zu essen da?“

[soulsxng]

"What were you thinking?!"

"Zae, please, darling...I was only trying to provide for you--"

Mattias' hand only just brushes Zahine's arm when a resounding slap echoed through the room. The halfling glaring daggers at his husband as he stopped pacing and smacked the offending hand away from himself.

"Provide? Provide what, Mattias? We're doing well enough as it is-- and that aside, Elyki doesn't exist to make a profit! We exist to help the people that aren't able to speak or act for themselves against the powers above them! How does inciting a riot out of nowhere accomplish that?"

"Ahnia has been unstable for nigh on twenty years now! If the people there didn't want change, there wouldn't be a growing coup there in the first place. It's obvious that they want Tahariel on the throne-- as they should! He's done more for Ahnia than Lierik and Kalliah for it. More than any of their spawn have done for it!"

Zahine falls quiet, and the already chilly air in the room goes absolutely frigid. For a while, it's all that he can do to stare at Mattias, but when he does finally speak again, his voice is low. Low, and unnervingly smooth.

"...What did he give you?"

It's Mattias' turn to clam up, now. Though he tries at first to stammer out a halfhearted response, he eventually gives up. Reaching out with both hands in an attempt to take Zahine's, who steps back and out of his reach.

"Don't touch me. I asked you a question, Mattias. What did Tahariel Elohim give you, for taking the deal that I said we were turning down? Because I really, truly hope that it was worth the price of putting every single person here in danger!"

He gestures toward the other members of Elyki, who were seated about the room, silent and still as the dead. Watching the argument between their leaders as it unfolded before them.

"I hope that it was worth allowing Blackwood and Duva'li to be imprisoned. That it was worth my baby being imprisoned!" Mattias continues trying to approach as Zahine's voice climbs to a shout again, his expression darkening when Zahine pushed him away.

Always, with those two fucking brats. It hadn't escaped Mattias' notice that Melchior wasn't present for this meeting. And 'his baby'? Mattias had to admit, he did prefer Eluvias-- the younger of the manticore brothers that Zahine had taken in all those years ago-- over Melchior...but hey. He knew that there was a risk of capture when he went on the job. (not that he'd had the choice) Maybe he should have been faster with his escape.

Golden gaze flicked about the room, taking in each face that surrounded he and his husband, before reaching out to snatch Zahine by the arm. His beloved struggled against him as he was dragged from the room, but the Ahniri was quick to grab up a fistful of grey hair and give it a firm (but not yet painful-- it was still a warning) tug backward.

Though Zahine was compliant after that; following Mattias to their bedroom to continue their conversation more privately, Mattias could tell that he was furious.

...But that was alright. Be it happiness or anguish, determination or fury, his Zae always had, and always would be the most perfect thing to him.

Even negative attention from a being so flawlessly ethereal was attention, after all...and Mattias was more than happy to lap up whatever Zahine was willing to give.

[whitherwanderer]

13 // check

[ CW: Weird time shit, forests that want you dead, mushrooms where mushrooms should not be. ]

The people that ask why you carry a small pocket chronometer with you into the deep Shroud seem to understand that the answer is beyond the obvious. Yes, of course you carry it to tell the time—the function is the reason. Not something that warrants asking about. But that’s not why they ask. Those who have lived here long enough know that while time is an important thing for a mortal to keep, the Shroud shrugs time off like autumn leaves. Time is meaningless to the Wood, and so it degrades in the dark places where there is no one to keep it. They ask because it seems pointless. You check the time. It is 7:12 in the morning.

Autumn comes to the Shroud like a sigh of relief as the days grow gray and the rains chill bitterly instead of merely cooling. As the trees shiver, their leaves fall away become a thick carpet of brown in a matter of weeks, and the sweet smell of decay suffuses your every breath. The fungi beneath every ilm of this forest is awake and alive, gorging itself on the rot. Its own fall harvest. Greentear is the last known location of the young woman you track. She was foraging for mushrooms. You check the time. It is 9:24 in the morning.

You’ve found a broken basket, but no signs of a struggle. No blood and no other trace of the woman you seek. Circular tracks pad around the area like a strange code. A rhythm few are privy to that even fewer can make sense of, but you know it well enough to decipher fragments of meaning—funguars. There were seven of them, maybe eight. A family, in the closest comparison you can make for things that have no concept of the term. The tracks lead further east along the river into territory that is notoriously warned against for its impassibility and the rumors of the creatures that lurk there. You sigh and check the time. It is 11:17 in the morning.

As you wade into the Shroud’s wild heart, the tracks become harder to follow, but you know where the creatures’ largest lairs are. What you’re more worried about is the Shroud itself; a maw that slavers without a tongue or teeth is still a maw, and the forest has a myriad ways of digesting the things that get caught in its slow consumption. Even intangible things like time are caught and eaten slowly. You’ve felt it before when you were first familiarizing yourself with this Wood, losing a few bells here, a day there. It terrified you, and though you’d never say it aloud, it still does. You force yourself not to think about it, and check the time. It is 12:48 in the afternoon.

You’re not sure how far you’ve wandered from Greentear, but it feels like malms. The forest is still and quiet save for the chitter of birds and bugs, but they are hushed, calling only to assure themselves that their fellows aren’t far. You’re still quite sure you know where you are despite your path being forced to bend with the land, and yet… there’s a tree you think you’ve seen before just off the path the tracks will lead you. An ancient thing, as thick as a cart is wide, with gnarled roots that split at the base and curl around a leaf-strewn hollow. It could be the den of some animal, you decide, and you leave it be. You check the time. It is 5:05 in the evening.

The tracks lead so deep into the Wood that the daylight is beginning to disappear, though there’s still enough for you to follow the tracks. You spot the tree again—old and wide, dry bark cracking under the weight of itself as it sags into the earth. The roots still curl around the hollow at its base, where there is no sunlight, but there is a certain deep, instinctive thought that pulls you into that hollow. To feel the weight of your pack and drop it, to listen to your aching feet and stop. To curl up in the roots and take in the sweet scent of earth and decay while you sleep to the sound of wind in leaves. You ignore it. Your tracks do not lead to it, so you pay your attention elsewhere. You check the time. It is… it is 5:05 in the evening.

It is dark. The trees know you are lost, but the creatures you track are clearly not, and that is enough for now. They wind between old trunks and through shrubs, little circle-stamps printed in the loam like letters on a page. They make a point to give the tree you keep seeing a wide berth and you follow them, quite sure their instinct is wise despite knowing nothing but the uneasy sense of restfulness that comes over you when you look at the hollow for too long. As the tracks round the tree, you stop at a sound. It’s almost like a woman crying for help, but… wrong. You check the time out of habit. It is still 5:05 in the evening.

You are now following the voice rather than the tracks, but you are not sure you should. The cries aren’t right, like a bird mimicking the sound in a stiff tone, over and over, and you know you have made yourself known to the forest in your haste. Whatever calls out to you has your scent and though you cannot escape the feeling that it is folly, your duty demands you do not abandon those in need. You come upon the tree again, but at its base where the hollow rests, there is a figure of a woman. Its head shifts with a jerking, crooked motion, to look at you. Mushrooms grow from its shoulders, and through thin, stringy hair. Help, it calls flatly. Its mouth does not move. Help. Hel—p. Hel. Help.

You reach for your bow instead of your chronometer. You don’t want to know.

[incendiorum-arch]

if i ever have the spoons to finish my new carrd this is the kind of thing hiding around in sneaky clickable spaces

[gentlenekomata]

👻 Our muses tell ghost stories around a campfire

"How'd you like to hear a bonafide horror story from Nohr, Sakura? It's really scary! Boo!"

AUTUMN PROMPTS 🍂 | still accepting!

👻 Our muses tell ghost stories around a campfire

Corrin’s voice echoed in the night as the two of them decided to set a little campfire in the nearby of the west gate pf the monastery, where a little wood was and the perfect atmosphere for some spooky entertainment between a yummy snack based on a not so burned marshmallows. Corrin wanted to start the narration, suggesting a little horror story from Nohr, which actually was a far more eerie place than Hoshido, in Sakura’s opinion, but she actually knew some pretty interesting horror prompts from her homeland as well.

“Actually, I know a story who actually seems to be true” she stared her gaze into the one of Corrin, scanning his interest and then proceeding with the narration. “It all began with a beautiful girl, her name was Hitomi: she was the most beautiful girl in the village and many young women were very jealous of her, because it was said that she stole many husbands” she stopped for a moment, catching some breath, “Due to that, a small group of women decided to make an ambush and they accidentally killed Hitomi, since she fell down a cliff, disappearing into the sea” she continued, toasting the marshmallows, “Yet, after few days, while one of them woman was doing the laundry at the river, she spotted a young naked girl bathing in the river…It was Hitomi! She widened her eyes and ran back at the village, claiming to have seen a ghost. Nobody believed her and everyone kept doing their tasks, but the day after…” Sakura paused, looking at Corrin, “She was in the village! She casually walked around and for each pace she made, one man suddenly stopped doing what he was doing and started to attacked Hitomi, in the attempt to kill her… and she died the first time, stabbed to death. But the day after… she was back, again, with a new group of man ready to kill; but the more the time passed, the more the men became violent against each other and then, against the other women, exterminating the entire village, within a year” Sakura stopped, chewing a little piece of her marshmallow, checking on Corrin and his level of fear. “The village still exists in Hoshido and whenever you set foot inside the desolated street of it, you felt a strange aura and an irresistible voice echoing in your mind” she silenced for a moment, listening to a faint wind coming from the forest. “If you stay quiet now, you can still feel the gentle whisper of her coming from behind us..” she gave a quick look around, securing the area with a glance around.

“But we’re safe here.. or not?” and she exchanged a deep smile with him, wondering if the spirit of Hitomi followed her at the monastery too.

[warborn-tragedy]

About to go to bed but I did just remember a short drabble I wrote for a Sierra-adjacent verse I’m writing for Pixie on discord. It’s tempting to post but at the same time… trigger warning wise it’s a little different than my usual stuff and it’s unrelated to anything I’ve written here

Maybe if I decide to add that verse..

[zhongrin]

zhongrin © 2024 ❥ do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or feed into ai.

tail of a dragon.

featuring... ❥ zhongli

involves... ❥ minors dni, gn!reader, dragon!li, fluff, crack, monsterfucking(?), cannibalism innuendos(??), rambles/headcanon -> short drabble format

at first, i thought zhongli's echo doesn't show up when it's raining (i was in the middle of fighting the oceanid boss). and it made me think; what if his dragon side absolutely abhor rainwater? he's still always a gentleman, of course ー giving you his coat to use as an umbrella upon unexpected downpours; but it's funny to think that inwardly he's just silently screeching something along the line of "curse the rainwater in my shoes curse the rainwater in my hair this does not bring joy at all" within the confines of his lizard brain. he will most definitely make excuses of being cold from the rain and insists on bathing together afterward, too. you may think he's trying to seduce you, but in reality, this old dragon just wants the icky cold rainwater out of his hair.

and then, i noticed that i was wrong ー it gets hidden when any sort of combat happens (i'm not sure if this is an iOS-only decision to conserve resources so that processing power for particle effects can be allocated to the fight's particle effects, or if it's a design decision because they don't want it to interfere with the battle experience).

and i've decided i shall think of it as a zhongli equivalent of men cracking their neck before they get serious. it's not exactly his real tail, after all - he's consciously controlling it, all because you wished he would show his draconic features more often, but he can't really have his horns or tail out in public. hence its disappearance whenever he has to focus that consciousness into something else.

this also means the shiny golden apparition would be nowhere to be found whenever he's intent on pleasuring you... but, perhaps if you rile him enough, you'll be subjected to a very solid dragon's tail, as majestic and mesmerizing as it is deadly, wrapped around your waist as he devours his favorite meal and milk your pleasure until you're all loose for his cocks to sink into the soaked depths of your needy heat.

even though your husband might seem to be all in control and composed, all gentle smiles and the occasional mischief-filled smirks, his tail is another story entirely - the man may not know of the phrase 'cuteness aggression', but he may as well be the personification of it. his mind constantly think about how adorable you are, soft and squishy and mouthwateringly delectable, constantly warring with his own mind over wanting to sink his teeth and nibble your pliant flesh. it lashes, it slithers, it squeezes, and it's unashamedly honest in its unrestrained movements, reflective of his desires in its rawest form. it'll make sure its hard scales imprints on your skin - a unique mark to accompany the mating bite he'll generously lap and suckle on. you're akin to a sweet treat he wants to lick and nip and scratch and devour. lucky for you, his patience and self-control has been tempered and honed for more than six thousand years.

and if your mind decides to conjure any sinful fantasies involving that extra appendage of his, why not tell him? who knows, perhaps you'll arouse a certain part of his draconic brain. your husband is a good listener, but he's also an achiever, after all.

[rotthepoet]

ok but like slytherin boys that fuck u in the mirror just to take pictures while its all happenings (strings of cum connecting their cock to your tight hole; your plush tits bare with nothing but your nipples covered by his hands; etc u get the point)

Heyy guys i just finished my first week of classes and i slayed that so hard🙏 hopefully going to fall into a writing schedule again once my internal clock sets in. Stay tuned 😚

Okay you said slytherin boys and im feeling lazy today so we’re getting a mini orgy, kay? Will probably write little drabbles for everyone individually in the future ;)

but just imagine it okay? fuck knows how you got yourself in between all five of them, but youre here now! And its so fucking messy and wet, being pumped full of cum so many times you’ve lost count. It’s dribbling out of your mouth, ass, pussy, coating your skin. And your knees are starting to get carpet burn from how hard you’ve been shoved and pulled on the floor, angled to face yourself in the mirror as your fucked from behind by Theo and Draco, Blaise holding your chin up to face yourself as he takes the first picture of you; all fucked out and cute. It spurs everyone else on, each boy wanting their keepsake. Lorenzo shoves the tip of his cock down your throat, making you look io at him while he takes a few pictures of your stuffed and tear stained cheeks. Mattheo pulls you into a headlock, Blaise’s seed still dripping from your drooling lips, taking a few mirror selfies with you as his tip kisses your cervix, making you squeal and cry out. Trust, they’ll make you take a few pictures too. Draco and Blaise biting hickies into your breasts, Theo eating his seed out of you, the works.

There might have to be a next time unless you want those photos leaked :0

[elizabethxolsenn]

Could I ask to request? If you’re not able or do not want to do this request it’s perfectly fine! but I was wondering if you could do Mommy!Wanda and little!reader. Readers age preferably 2-3 with slurred talking, but anything’s fine! Whatever is easiest for you. Sick reader, mommy’s milkys, paci, burning up with fever. I think that’s it, just lots of cuddles and love. I’m sick and having a fever currently, I feel it would help a lot. No pressure, hun!

I’m so sorry you’re feeling sick sweetheart :( I hope you get better!!!

This is a Drabble because I don’t have much energy.

(Also I take requests!!)

Icky Baby.

Mommy!Wanda x Little!GN!Reader

Warnings; Little reader, lactation, R being sick???? Pure fluff<33

You laid there with a towel on your head, you could die at any moment, well at least that’s what you told yourself. Wanda claimed you were exaggerating. “It’s just the flu.” She sighed.

She stuffed your paci in your mouth and headed to the kitchen. You cuddled up into the couch with your Hattie stuffie, watching the owl house. You tried not to giggle, your stomach felt like the Civil War was going on in it. “‘Tupid tummy..” you whispered. You huffed, puffed, you weren’t grumpy. You just couldn’t breathe through your nose.

You sat up, and groaned. As you groaned, your paci just happened to fall out of your mouth. You began to whine, which, obviously, didn’t catch Mommy’s attention. So you began to sob. Immediately, Wanda turned off the stove and ran to you, cupping your face. “What? What’s wrong baby?” You frowned, “wan’ mommy snuggles, pease..” smiling, Wanda picked up your pacifier and put it aside. “Let me get you some Macaroni okay?” You nodded, watching her leave you, again.

Grabbing and making you a bowl, she walked back and sat next to you. “Let’s get this off you. There we go.” She took the towel off and threw it on the other side of the couch. “Ah.” She whispered. Using her magic to pick up a couple pieces of the pasta. You knew you couldn’t stomach it, but you didn’t wanna make mommy sad. She worked so hard. You opened your mouth slowly, as she used her magic to feed you, making a ‘Brrrrr’ sound to imitate an airplane. You didn’t want to giggle, but you couldn’t hold back. You whined in pain. When she placed the Macaroni in your mouth, you swallowed it.

“Good job honey.” She said, grabbing you another bite. When you refused her, already feeling the first bite settle uncomfortably, she frowned. Placing the bowl on the coffee table, and pulling you into her lap. Pulling off her shirt and her bra, she softly guided you towards her nipple. “Remember not to bite baby. You may be sick but I’ll punish you.” She softly caresses your back. “tay, mamma.” You mumbled, closing your eyes.

Wanda hummed as you suckled her milk, running circles on your back. Looking down at what she deemed as the most beautiful sight. She loved you. She loved everything about you, from your hair to you legs. You were just, the most perfect baby. When she got the IOS update, she was just so excited to make so many lock screens with you and your paci, you and your stuffies, or you and your mommy. Getting lost in a train of thought, Wanda didn’t notice the small taps on her shoulder. “Mommy.” You whispered.

“What.” She whispered back, you pushed her hair back, and got closer to her ear. “Thank you for being the best mommy ever.” You beamed sleepily. Wanda swore up and down she’d never cry in front of you, but your words brought tears to her eyes. You went back to drinking your mommy’s Milkies, when she ran her hands through your hair. “Thank you for being the best baby, my special Y/N. Mommy will forever love you and all your smiles.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

tmrw i will go through my tbr mark my words

[harmaanoita]

sleepover weekend ask! I know it's already Monday!

I know you've been making your way through a lot of fanfic lately, including older stuff. So, can you please make a rec list? I'm hoping to see some gems I might have missed or forgot about (since I'm terrible at saving even the stuff I like)

Don't worry, it can be a weekend even during the week (especially since I work on most weekends)!

And yes, I can make a rec list. Lets see how long it will be. It's in alphabetical order by writers.

Bojere fic recs:

Do you think we'll be in love forever? by ate_my_brain - still going on but this has been a joy to read.

Dreams taste like you by ate_my_brain - friends to lovers with fluff and angst

The story of love (that hurts) by ate_my_brain - getting together with angst

Besane Su Naše Noći by cripplingdepresso and mitochondriencocktail - star!Bojan AU

my heart wants to come home by da_proti_toku_grem - short and fluffy

This time I'm ready to run ('cause I wanna be free) by hoddypeak - getting together and Nordic Tour

When I don't have you, my demons are with me by HotCat37 - possessive and jealous Bojan, very good smut

Io ti chiamo amore in una lingua straniera by JuliaBaggings - pining, languages and background Jance

Mai Dire Mai by JuliaBaggings - friends to lovers

Breakthroughs in breakdowns by kuurupiilo - Bluza insired hurt no comfort

Put Me Together, Thread a Needle by mitochondriencocktail - an excellent hockey!AU

You Can't Stop Me From Loving You by MyHeartIsYours4Ever - pining and angst

On a Good Day by Nothing_Rhymes_With_Orange - Bojere far in the future (this is very lovely, a little sad)

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you by paperphilia - super sad but beautifully written

Midsummer (enought light to drive anyone insane) by PupperMasterOnAString - lovely midsummer fic. This was the first one I read, I believe.

the kid -series by Rosemind - I don't usually read fics with kids but this series is so adorable!

the tour by Rosemind - drabbles inspired by Nordic Tour

the wedding -series by Rosemind - very lovely and fluffy

Teach Me What Love Is by SamePlaceandTime - languages and fluff

sä saat mut by sepetajmikolikomeces - Tavastia feels

Summer wrote us a letter -series by Televa - lovely collection of summery and other kind of slice of life fics

oothan tässä vielä huomenna by tilhi - slow burn friends to lovers

Tarkotin sua by tilhi - soulmates!AU

toisiltamme mitä tahansa by tilhi - pining, jealous Bojan, such a joy to read

These are def not all the fics I've enjoyed, just a few (24) I picked for this list. This corner of the internet has such amazing writers ❤

[soulsxng]

"Our Voice of Truth...? I've heard of similar things, but without looking over what's written in the records you managed to salvage, I'll have a hard time narrowing it down. If I had heard that from anyone else, I might have assumed it was a deity, but given what else we know of him..."

"Tch. Please. I think Irazor more than showed that he doesn't care in the slightest for deities in general, let alone enough to actually speak of one in such a manner. Though...there definitely was something that was influencing him. I didn't see him too often, but when I did, there was a good deal of times that he would start talking to...something. I had assumed it was telepathic, but wasn't able to confirm it."

Though Eleare's comment was immediate, Niesal could tell by the way their gaze was still settled on the slowly growing wreckage of the facility they had been in not an hour before, that they were distracted. Worried after Darrow, no doubt...and deep in thought about the situation they'd been caught up in, to boot.

"We were, to a point...after all, look at what happened to Zahine when he tried to charm Irazor."

Enoch nodded toward the doctor in question, who sat in the grass a short distance away, being watched after by Io. Though he was listening, he appeared to still be somewhat dazed. Brows furrowing ever so slightly as if processing that his name had been brought up. Eno didn't wait for him to speak up; rather, he continued on to explain whatever theory he had come up with.

"His powers were effecting Irazor, after all. It wasn't until he was about to be overtaken by it, that whatever this Voice of Truth retaliated. Which suggests that, while telepathic, it wasn't the same as what you might normally imagine from such a thing. Instead, it may have been more that his mind was linked to that of another. When the influence from Zahine's powers becan to encroach on this being's own mind, it then chose to lash out."

"Or, it could be similar to what you said, Eleare. That it was more an influence, than anything. I know of a few different types that would reject that of another being-- like that of the Demon Princes, or Hell's Sins. There are also a good deal of Horrors whose influence effects their prey in such a manner."

The resulting silence was a heavy one, as each member of the group tried to sort through the scraps of information and speculation that they had managed to scrape together.

"I wish I was able to give you more insight, but...it really wasn't like anything I had ever experienced, or had even really heard of having happen before. It felt like...like there was something inside me. Not just my mind, but my whole body. Something rotten, or...corrupted. It's gone now, but I can feel...I can still feel--"

Zahine grimaces, and Io is quick to jump in, shaking his head. "Maybe this isn't the best thing for you to be focusing on, right now. You need to rest. So do the rest of us, I'm sure...once Aro and Baphomet come out, we should head out. Luvi and Nyl already went ahead with the few researchers we could grab when they tried to escape, but they're just holding them for now."

"Actually, I wholeheartedly agree. Especially with the Void being involved, this is most likely going to be a complicated matter. Outside of reading these notes, interrogating the researchers, looking through the rubble for anything else that can be found, there's a few other people that I want to speak with...Lerato included. I also want to have someone take a look at Zahine's mind, and Eleare's memories, just to make sure we don't overlook something."

Eleare looked like they were about to speak up, when a blast back toward the facility had the five of them looking up. Baphomet and Aro climbing up from the resulting rubble, and while the former looked completely unscathed, the latter was comparatively worse for wear-- and looking to still be in a horrible mood, as well.

"Fine. But at least give me some sort of warning before you decide to just drop by, Enoch. Preferably with the name of whoever it is you'll be bringing with you. Now if you'll excuse me...Aro! Let's go. You too, if you're coming, Nesa."

[whitherwanderer]

1 // envoy

[ CW: mild horror, tragic things happening to children offscreen. ]

So gently does sleep come to them that they hardly notice. One moment spent scratching down words on a lengthy report, the next an ink blot in mid-letter eating its neighbor. Chair just comfortable enough to slouch into, mind quieting to a whisper. Always, it comes for them in the daylight while the wood is calm. Well... calmer. But never the night. Evading them in the small hours, ambushing in the afternoons.

It makes the knock at their desk all the more rude of an awakening.

“New dispatch orders, Io,” comes a gruff voice all too familiar with their afternoon routines. They can swear he waits until they’re asleep, but that might have been giving him less credit than he deserves. It wasn’t his fault that time was of the essence in most of a Wailer’s work.

A wave of their hand towards their desk sees the bill fall in front of them, the sketch of a round face and saucer eyes staring up from the parchment: a missing hyuran child. Io’s brow pinches, but neither say anything of the odds. There's no need to.

“Third this turn,” he says, almost an apology. Io nods in coded forgiveness, taking up the bill and folding it under their arm as they sluggishly rise from their chair and begin to gather the necessities. Compass, soap, knife, flint, striker. The report will need to wait—searches always take precedence.

“Same as the others?”

“Aye. Muddy footprints tracked from the doorway all the way to the child’s bedside after the rains last night. No signs of struggle, no evidence of preparation to leave. Like he just up and vanished. Testimonies have been taken and the Gods’ Quiver has searched the place high and low. No avail. They haven’t turned up a thing.”

Quiver clasped to belt, bow slung across their shoulder, sword sheathed across their back. A rhythm so oft repeated that it was almost a dance—one that ended not with a bow, but a heavy, creaking sigh.

“...They need someone who treads the veil’s edge, Io.”

“I’m an investigator. A consultant,” they correct gently on their way through their office door. “Not a medium.”

—

This is the part they hate the most. Five days in the deep wood and nothing to show for it. A weepy mother and father waiting every long day and sleepless night for even a whisper of hope, of explanation, but all Io has is empty hands and the same half-insulting question. Perhaps the child ran away? Can you think of any reason why, however small, your child would leave?

The trudge through the gate is a slow procession, and the city noise is a hollow greeting. The taunt of children’s laughter is almost painful, but they Io lifts their gaze to scan the yard as if they expect to find the missing child there, all agrin for having won the most extraordinary game of hide-and-seek. Instead, Io’s heart drops into their stomach, taken by the nausea of a nightmare relived.

So caught up in their routine, they’d nearly forgotten this, too, was part of the pattern. A rainstorm, a missing child, muddy footprints, and this. A different hyuran child sitting some ways off from a giggling group, turned away. A frail thing in slightly oversized clothes, soaked to the bone as if he had just been pushed into the pond and fished himself out. No child calls him for games, no adult fusses over his wet clothing. No one seems to notice him. Except Io. And he notices no one but them.

His head turns to them slowly, singling them out from across the plaza. His skin is so pale as to nearly be blue, and it’s clear from the pallor alone that the child is recently dead. His eyes, pools of pitch, freeze Io in their tracks and the city is silent as the grave, like sleep creeping in unnoticed, but they and this child were the only ones left awake. Saucer eyes wide in terror, the child’s mouth drops open as if he is possessed of a snake’s jaw, caught in a silent scream.

Io’s skin bristles at the sight, unable to take their eyes off this child that shouldn’t be, like a prey animal watches a predator to see who will move first. The child stands, turning towards them fully, but Io’s body refuses to move, only the sound of their own panic in their ears, cold blood throbbing against their temples against the deathlike quiet.

It makes the shake of their shoulder a kinder awakening. Their gaze is drawn to their Wailer colleague, who inspects them with a knitting brow and an expression of concern as he follows Io’s gaze to the spot they were fixed on. Io looks back as well, and the ground where the child stood is as bare and empty, no child to be seen except for the ones that run past them with wooden chocobos.

He gives Io’s shoulder a pat of apology, his expression betraying how little he wanted to know. Io collects themself with a shaking breath and nods their forgiveness. Reports won’t fill out themselves.

[incendiorum-arch]

io doesn't share their own food - if its theirs, it's theirs and they don't want to change that. in fact, their habits with food could be described by others as a little... odd. they don't really like people handing them plates directly. sometimes they might ask for a plate to be set down so that they can grab it instead. and when they are eating, they have a tendency to pull plates and bowls a little too close or wrap an arm loosely around the dish. they have no difficulties for the opposite - they could eat off of someone else's plate if offered, or hand someone a dish without a hitch.

[phthalology]

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