#...he is kinda fun to write tho

[nirikeehan]

With love from Russia I mean solas

So, okay.

The themes of Thalia's story in Inquisition are that of the nature of institutional power. How easily it seduces. How it quickly morphs out of your control into a machinery of greed and corruption. Girl wanted that power; her whole story was an empowerment arc. She wanted to be Inquisitor, to rise from the ranks of a lowly Circle mage, oppressed and imprisoned, and be someone who saved the world. This was her greatest achievement. Letting that go for her was going to be damn hard.

Solas, whom she considered to be a friend and confidant, if albeit a somewhat distant one, completely slipped through the cracks for her. She never clocked he was anything more than he claimed to be, so the revelation for me at the end of Inquisition was earth-shattering. So too was Trespasser for both of us.

Because Solas revealed himself to be the same as her. Someone who rose to prominence, greatness, even godhood. Solas understands all the underpinnings of political and institutional power – he's seen this all before, and he's torn it all down. He knows the cost. And yet.

He'll do it all again. To remake the world in his vision. The very thing he helped Thalia to do, as a convenient tool, for a whole ass year. He tells her he didn't even consider her a person at first. But that she grew on him. So it makes it all that much harder to enact his terrible vision. But he's gonna do it anyway.

In that moment, Thalia and Solas were equals. They were two army generals meeting under a white flag to discuss terms, and they could not agree to a truce. She disbands the Inquisition because it had amassed too much power, yes, but also as a gesture to Solas. To show him no, we creatures of this world aren't all just power-hungry beasts, like the Evanuris you defeated long ago. Because otherwise she'd just be proving him right, and giving him more fuel for the fire of his world-ending plans.

I view them as Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty; adversaries but matches in intellect. Solas is, at his core, a deeply lonely man. And Thalia is not a Lavellan, so there's no romantic love there, but there is a respect. In some ways, Solas is the only person she's ever met who understands the burden of command on the scale she's experienced.

I, haha, foolishly believed this would come into play in any way in the next game. Joke's on me!

So, naturally, now it's open season. Time to write my version.

I confess I'm not much for the "characters talk in dreams" plot device that fuels a lot of Solas's character in-game. So I was like, how can I make this interesting for me without doing that? And then I thought.... well, okay, how about a letter?

So anyway, that's a longwinded way of saying in this fic, Solas writes Thalia a letter and that's gonna kick off the action of the whole series.

Here it is.

My friend, It has been six long years since we last spoke, but I think of our conversation often. And your promise, as well. I did not believe at first you intended to keep it, but then you disbanded the Inquisition. Commendable, if perhaps ill-advised, on your part.  I know you have not remained idle, however. And neither have I.  I have thought long and hard about whether to contact you at all. Your dreams remain carefully guarded. It would be far easier to stay silent. But I am, admittedly, too sentimental for my own good. And so I ask a favor.  We never had a chance to play chess at Skyhold. This is one of my deep regrets. So I give you the opportunity now: set up your pieces, and we shall dance.  Perhaps that is the wrong metaphor. It sounds better in Elvhen.  I have taken the liberty of making the first move. I eagerly await yours.  Regards, Solas

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[jadecantcreate]

i wanted to write a quick 3-chapter fic for day 4 of loa shiptober (how they met i think) and i (a fool) was like. yeah. i could totally write 3 chapters in a few hours. i was wrong. SO wrong. haven’t even finished kremy’s (the first one).

so instead have a maybe-past-kremy design that im conflicted about compared to his current design, as a peace offering

[sysig]

Blood sugar levels (Patreon)

[viperwhispered]

Too Hard

Woop part 2 of the trip inside Jamil's head. Part 1 here.

The next time Jamil caught sight of you on campus, his first instinct was to turn around on his heel.

What a stupid thought to have because of you.

Besides, that would only make him more conspicuous, not less.

So, when your eyes met his, Jamil gave you a short nod in greeting. He would’ve left it at that and kept on his way, had you not walked up to him.

“Hi Jamil! How’s it going?” you said with that impossibly disarming smile of yours.

Why was it so difficult to look at you like he normally would? You had no right to make him feel so stiff, so unnatural.

On autopilot, Jamil exchanged a few pleasantries with you - those lessons from his parents had been instilled too deep in him for him to falter too badly in a simple exchange such as this. Still, Jamil quickly excused himself by telling you he still had to find Kalim before his next class.

Jamil didn’t miss the way your smile faltered. Had you hoped to get something out of him?

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you two later, then.”

Something about that irked him, though Jamil did not allow himself to dwell on it further.

His heart really had no business still racing as it did when he walked away, unaware of the frown on his face.

Just act normal. That’s all he needed to do.

After all, he had no time for dwelling in silly fancies.

If Jamil had been acutely aware of you before, it only seemed to worsen now that he was making a conscious effort to not act any differently with you. In fact, the harder he tried to keep you out, the more you invaded his thoughts, unsettling him.

The most innocuous words from you looped in his mind, and even the simplest actions caught his eye. For goodness's sake, he’d found himself staring at you while you were queueing up in the cafeteria the other day, not even doing anything other than standing around and looking bored!

For once, Jamil found himself grateful for all his duties. At least they provided him with something else to occupy himself with.

After all, if he was busy enough, it was difficult to think about those bright eyes of yours, your sweet laugh, or the way you bit your lip while thinking.

Still, sometimes it felt like no matter which way he turned, you were there, ready to throw him off-kilter. Not like it was his fault that often the most convenient route to class intersected with your daily routines. Or that your face seemed to jump out from any crowd, catching his attention.

Which certainly did not help his basketball performance. Jamil certainly did not recall you having such an interest in sports before, yet suddenly you were always there, distracting him. What had changed?

Could you possibly-

Jamil scoffed to himself, forcing his thoughts back on track for the nth time that day.

He picked up the tray of food and started taking it to Kalim. After dinner, he’d need to help Kalim with his homework, there were some housewarden tasks that would need dealing with, not to mention the preparations for the next-

Jamil froze in his tracks.

The voice he heard was quiet, but it was unmistakably you.

Really, it should not have come as such a surprise to him. You had become a rather frequent visitor to Scarabia, and Kalim often invited you to stay for meals. In fact, Jamil had started planning the dorm’s meal prep with your tastes and dietary restrictions in mind, just in case.

Jamil rounded the corner with strange exhilaration, his heart fluttering needlessly.

Yet, his mood evaporated when he saw you.

Why did you stop talking and look so guilty as soon as you caught sight of Jamil?

Jamil knew that look you gave to Kalim, had used it himself a thousand times. The one telling Kalim to keep quiet about something.

What could there possibly be that you would be comfortable sharing with Kalim, but not with him? That would give Kalim reason to sit so close to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder?

Jamil's mind raced with possibilities, yet could not settle for any single explanation.

He’d have to ask Kalim about it later.

Jamil gave you a short, polite greeting, his eyes lingering on you in an attempt to read what you were hiding.

“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve prepared something for you to eat as well,” Jamil said, already thinking about which parts of the dorm’s dinner to spruce up for you.

“Oh, no need, just figured I’d pop by. I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” you said, something sheepish about your expression.

As expected, Kalim asked you to stay and dine with them, and with just a bit more persuasion you agreed - though not before telling Jamil that he should join you too and have himself a breather.

And since Kalim agreed with you, Jamil soon found himself sharing a meal with you and Kalim. Yet, even as he sat down with the food, his mind raced.

Had you been getting particularly close to Kalim lately? But surely Jamil would’ve noticed such a thing. Maybe someone from the dorm had been giving you trouble? But if that was the case, then surely you could let Jamil know about it, too. Unless for some reason you did not want to? But if it was something that concerned Kalim, then sooner or later it was bound to concern Jamil, too.

All the while, Kalim was talking to you about this and that, the latest topic being the animals kept on the Asim estate.

“I’ve got some pictures, let me show you!” Kalim said with an excited grin.

Only, a thorough patting of his pockets and a look around confirmed that Kalim’s phone was nowhere to be seen.

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. Where had Kalim left it this time?

Before Jamil even had the chance to say that he would handle it, Kalim sprinted off. Jamil hesitated for a moment, automatically halfway up from his seat, before he decided that leaving a guest unattended would be a worse offense than not helping out his master.

Jamil slumped back down with a sigh, mentally tracing the path Kalim took today, trying to recall the last time he saw Kalim handle his phone.

“Breathe. He’ll manage,” you said. There was the faintest of smiles on your lips, and Jamil could not decide if it was knowing or amused. Perhaps both.

Somehow, despite his frustration, Jamil’s own lips wanted to curl up too.

“Hmm. Maybe he will.”

Sure, Jamil could’ve called Kalim’s phone, to make it easier to find, but it was not that urgent, was it?

Jamil took another bite of his food, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.

How was his mind so empty and so buzzing at the same time?

“You know-”

“So-”

You looked at each other, both just as surprised that the other had spoken up at the same time.

Even your surprised look was so-

“You first,” Jamil said. The way you bit your lip... Jamil had to raise a cup to his lips, slowly sipping his drink.

“Just… Feels like it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you be still, you know. Or exchanged more than two words with you,” you said. You were attempting a light, joking tone, yet it was quite clear there was more to it.

“You say that like it would be unusual for me to be busy.”

He was not prepared for the way your soft sigh tugged at his heartstrings.

“No. It is not.”

You were both quiet after, poking at your meals. Normally, Jamil would’ve cherished such a moment of peace, yet this particular silence between you two was decidedly awkward.

Where was your usual chatter? Why weren’t you looking at him like you usually did?

“If you’re worried about me, don’t. I’m fine,” Jamil said, some softness creeping into his tone despite his best intentions.

“That's what Kalim said too,” you said. Yet the way you looked at Jamil made it clear you were still skeptical.

Wait.

Had you clammed up earlier because it had been Jamil you had been talking about with Kalim? That Kalim had comforted you about?

The thought twisted his stomach into knots.

Eta: you can find part 3 here, part 4 here, and finally part 5 here. Hasdhfsdf the way I fought with that last scene I swear. I don't even want to know how many versions I went through, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted without rubbing it into your face or making it too veiled. The joys of trying to convey things through a limited pov. Hopefully it came out reasonably balanced in the end. Rip to all those sentences that were lovely on their own but didn’t work for the whole. Hopefully I can rehome y’all one day. I do have thoughts for part 3 and part x (might be some chapters between those two as well, who knows at this point), so maybe we'll see those at some point, too. Tag list: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @twstgo If you'd like to be tagged for future works, let me know! (Just be aware that sometimes I do also write nsfw, though you can certainly ask to be tagged only for particular kinds of works.)

[yume-fanfare]

day 7 of torikasa week is future! what will they do after graduation?

[quirkle2]

[zombie au] the image is too big for tumblr i had to cut it in half GVEAUYGV (please for the love of god zoom in)

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump,

@the-lone-youth, @will-o-the-wips, @catnykit, @granny-aaravos, @mj-or-say10

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[galaxy-fleur]

Warm comfort after a job well done

Some soft Aruna/Chris because they've been brewing on my mind lately. Nothing like a huge, burly man being a massive little spoon at heart.

Aruna info-post!

Additional one-shot bellow <3

Chris lets out a long, weary sigh as his legs drag him up a route he now knows by heart, smooth, automatic doors sliding open with quiet hum to let him through. His haggard appearance doesn't fit among the squeaky clean lab environment, making him stick out like a sore thumb. He never really did look appropriate in here, though. Even on a good day. He's far too big, too rough around the edges for this pristinely tidy place. And yet, against all glaring contradictions, this was also a place to call home.

It wasn't a surprise to find Aruna right where she usually is, her back turned to him, and her hands far too busy with whatever overcomplicated project that was on her plate this time around. In their own right, they were two workaholics through and through, both living their jobs rather than just going through the motions.

Perhaps that explains how they flowed together so well.

As soon as she looked over her shoulder at her visitor, a broad smile spread across her face. He's been out on an assignment for almost a full week now, and even though that was a tried and true routine for them at this point, it always filled his chest with pure relief whenever he came back to see her safe and sound in his time away. Or, well, mostly safe and sound. While Aruna wasn't deployed out in the field nearly as frequently since her primary responsibilities were mostly limited to the lab, that didn't mean she wouldn't get herself into all kinds of bizarre incidents. Whether it was her natural carelessness or her scientific inclination, he sure didn't like just how frequently she'd get another strangely shaped bruise or a charred hair here and there.

In any case, he was far too tired out of his mind to make any remarks on her being up late for work again. He'd be a major hypocrite if he did. Truth is, he was glad she was still on the job. That meant he could come up here and see her like this.

"-You're back! I figure the mission was a success?"

He virtually collapses into the nearest lab chair with a muffled grunt after dragging his body there. Fatigue is evident in his weary eyes, his shoulders slouching as he rests his hands on his knees. Despite his efforts to project a strong exterior, his typically stern and intense gaze looks even heavier and darker due to sheer tiredness pulling him down. In here, he wasn't a tough leader, carrying the responsibility to be everyone's strength, no matter how dire the situation is. In here, he was just Chris. And Chris was so, so tired.

"...Yeah. We got the job done," he replies with a sigh, his gruff and deep voice sounding rougher and hoarser than usual. He knows he comes off as a little curt, but that's mostly because he doesn't want to discuss the job at the moment. The job is all he thought about for days on end. He had to. He needs to rest his thoughts.

Aruna's smile softens into a more understanding one as she briefly scans his body from head to toe to determine what injuries she could already pinpoint without giving it a closer look. Chris was always plagued by injuries. A few new cuts and some sporadic burn are a familiar staple, and that's on a good day. Neither of them would make a big fuss about it. But that doesn't mean they didn't give a damn, either. There was simply no point in dwelling on something that is utterly inevitable in this line of work. Thankfully, aside from utter exhaustion and a pulling ache in his bruised shoulder, there wasn't anything major to worry about this time around. He's here in the first place in part because of that.

She sets her equipment aside, swiftly removing her gloves, and approaching him in a few quick strides. One of her hands rests on his shoulder, her voice soft as she tilts her head down at him: "...You need rest. Not to be rude, but... you look like hell. Did you even go to medical for a checkup before coming here, hm?"

She knows him too well.

He lets out a trembling breath, his tired eyelids fluttering shut, his body starting to relax at her presence. Chris leans against her touch slightly, responding to her, admittedly, very valid question with a slight, stubborn huff.

"I told the rest of the team to go to medical and get examined while I went straight here. I’ll go to medical later," he mutters out with a slight dismissive wave of his hand that felt as though it took half of his remaining energy to even lift his arm up.

Aruna just sighs in clear disapproval, giving him a light, playful nudge that makes him sway in his current seat in spite of all the muscle supposed to keep him steady. Although she's usually all for consideration and understanding - sometimes a bit too much for his liking - she is also well aware that he's not all that good at taking care of himself properly. Everyone needs rest, and she, unfortunately, knew better than to trust him solely on his word.

"Alright, fine, you can rest here. But you're going to medical later, even if I have to drag your hunky butt up there myself," she hums, beginning to comb through his untidy hair, brushing off some dirt and gunpowder that had become tangled in the short locks. Probably not the most appropriate thing to do in a laboratory of all places, but they could allow themselves to break the rules sometimes. They did that far too many times to count at this point, after all.

As he leans into Aruna's hand, silently savoring the sensation of her touch, he can't help but chuckle. She may grumble, but she's still as soft and caring as ever.

"Hunky, huh?" Chris raises an eyebrow at her, a small but playful smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he eyes his fiancé. She rolls her eyes at that, grinning down at him knowingly. Slowly, he raises his better arm and wraps it around her middle, bringing her closer to him and into his lap. Aruna just follows his lead and settles against him without protesting or even teasing him on it as she usually would. He doesn't waste much time to bury his nose against her chest, nuzzling his face against her warm skin, and wrapping a muscular arm around her back to keep her close.

Even though he's now indoors, the cold he's had to endure these past several days still bites at his cheeks, and her body heat feels like a divine escape from it. With a tired and heavy exhale, he slumps against her, resting his body on hers, even as he keeps her in his lap. At this point, it almost feels like he's using her as a personal teddy bear because of the way he eases up against her smaller frame.

Her nails lightly stroke his scalp as her hand returns up to continue combing through his hair mindlessly.

"Hunky, handsome, ridiculously stubborn... Hey, that last one seems to be true even now. I'm kind of scared what you're gonna be like when you're sixty," she adds with a playful smile, her other hand resting upon his shoulder, her thumb rubbing small soothing circles into the fabric of his turtleneck. "I'm gonna be dealing with one stubborn old man."

A warm feeling of affection fills his chest as he grins at that. God, he missed her.

"Ah, but you still fell for me anyway," Chris responds with a tired but teasing tone that comes out sounding muffled against her chest, his warm breath rolling over her skin. His muscles gradually relax as he rests against her in silence for a few peaceful minutes, before letting out a small, tired groan. There is a clear difference between her soft and mostly clear skin, which is usually untouched by direct combat or violence, and his hard and calloused body, which has seen far too much action over the years. He sighs: "...I just want to enjoy your company a little longer. The others got it a lot worse than me. Hell one of ‘em got a bullet go straight through his shoulder so he definitely needs that care way more than I do."

Aruna's smile softens a bit as she continues to silently caress his head. Despite him probably being way too heavy on her like this, she doesn't protest or complain to him one bit, taking all of his - admittedly, rather hefty - weight like a true champ. If anything, it's a clear sign of his tiredness, as he is typically very protective and careful about not being too heavy on her.

"...You should rest," she murmurs quietly. "You really need it."

He leans into her touch with a low hum. Almost like a touchstarved tomcat would, practically melting at her simple caresses.

"I just... need you right now. I need you more than sleep… can I be selfish, just this once?" Chris mumbles out faintly, his voice coming out sounding gruff and vulnerable. He is more than aware that it is far from ideal to be covered in sweat, dirt, grime, and the faint remnants of dried blood, especially when he is holding on to his fiancée like this. He is also well aware that he should probably take a shower and go up to the medical to get examined out properly. But even though he's a filthy, unkempt mess, he's far too exhausted, and all he really wants right now is to just be near her, even if it's only for a minute or two. "…I promise I’ll shower after I get some rest, I just… I need to hold you first."

Aruna leans down and kisses the top of his head.

"You can be selfish as much as you want right now," she assured softly, her hand still stroking his hair. "Just rest. I'm not going anywhere."

He nearly melts into Aruna right then and there. He exhales again, his tense muscles unwinding, further relaxing against her. The adrenaline from the mission is gradually fading from his system now that he's at home and in his fiancé's company. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in her chest again, his eyes fluttering closed and his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper.

"…I’m so damn tired." He lets out another trembling sigh, soothed by her presence and the sensation of her soft hands caressing him and petting his hair. The exhaustion seeps into his bones fully, both a relief and a curse in one. "Missed you."

She lets out a quiet 'mhm' in acknowledgement, silently running her fingers through the dried out locks. He guesses his hair is probably far from the softest variety right now. But Aruna didn't mind. She never did. She was always there for him whenever he returned, through the good and the bad, willing to provide any consolation and assistance she could. After all, she understood first hand the cost he had to bear to protect the rest of the world from the bloodshed of bioterrorism. She has never once asked him to stop, even though she was probably just as worried about his safety while he was away as he was about hers. Neither did he.

This was their life, their fight, their purpose. Regardless of how hard and exhausting it was at times, neither of them could see themselves in any other place.

"How about this, big guy… I’ll let you nap here for a bit, but you will be getting your butt up to medical after you wake up. I want you to be properly checked out and treated. And you'll change out of your gear. I’m sure as hell not letting you into our bed smelling like a war zone. You stink," the scientist says sternly, but the hint of a smile can still be heard in her soft tone.

As she relaxes against him, he sneaks in a small and weary smile onto his face. Despite his reluctance to leave her arms, he does admit that she is very much right. He is not willing to argue over something so silly.

"I guess you win. Again." All his senses are now completely relaxed as he holds her against his body, breathing in the scent of her perfume lingering on her skin. Lemon grass and geranium. He nuzzles his nose against her collarbone. "-You better shower with me after all of this is said and done then."

He hears her laugh at his muttered demand, making his smile widen against her.

"Uh-huh, alright, you got yourself a deal, Redfield. Shower together it is," she agrees, her words laced with light playfulness that was like a balm to his battered body. As she lowers herself down, she swiftly pecks his forehead. "Now rest, you big, stubborn idiot."

Another shiver of delight runs down his spine at the simple affection she was spoiling him with. Despite the tiredness and exhaustion he's feeling, the thought of having her warm body pressed against his own in the shower later makes him almost excited about the idea. That's certainly one thing to look forward to, at least.

"I’m your stubborn idiot." With a tired sigh of relief, he presses his face into the soft skin of her neck, practically burying it there, the stubble on his jawline scratching at her slightly, to which she giggles lightly. She can make him completely pliant and docile in her arms, even though he is known for being intense and gruff on the appearance. He whispers against her skin, his voice weary and gravelly: "I’m all yours."

He may have a tendency to appear tough and guarded, but in quiet moments like these, when his body is pliant and docile in her embrace, it became openly clear just how tired and weary he really was under his front of responsibility and leadership.

"You're mine alright," she replies, her fingers slowly massaging the back of his neck, slowly tracing small, soothing circles on his skin. "That means I get to protect you, too. Now rest. You're safe here."

That's all the words he needed to hear.

[suniside-crossing]

pimp!cal

that is all

[cern1cal0]

P.E. funtimes

[myuu2wo]

Where’s that special size shrink ship troupe fic with thundercracker and Marissa do u know how funny that entire situation would be but also incredibly tender bc yk it’s T.C looking at Marissa in a whole different perspective and I think that’d add onto the little crush he has on her and Marissa being super amused holding a small thundercracker in the palms of her hands 😭

[invinciblerodent]

Silk and Silverite, the complete series (so far), by Lady Stéphanie Toutlemonde-Baliverne of Val Royeaux

in-fiction Dragon Age fiction, because why not

Silk and Silverite

Featuring no subtitle, the book was meant to be a one-off, but upon the wildly positive reception (five scarves fluttered in shock out of five!), the work was expanded into a series.

This first volume, fittingly to the title, is a fairly basic story about a whirlwind romance between a wealthy surface dwarf merchant-woman with a price on her life, and a beautiful bard (known only as "Lady Cinquefoil") that mostly follows the conventions of Orlesian bardic romances, and shocks mainly with just how explicit it is for its genre.

It's rumored to have been inspired by the author's own scandalous affair, however this is mostly due to the staggering amount of very specific details pictured, as there is next to nothing known about the secretive authoress.

Vol.02.: Lustrous Cotton

Following one of the secondary protagonists of the original Silk and Silverite, Lustrous Cotton is about a meek, scholarly mage in 9:41, now a rebel against his will, trying to make his way across the Fereldan countryside with a hired bodyguard: a tortured and complex woman, a deserter of the Templar order, who is trying to eke out a living by taking people across the wartorn Hinterlands for coin. The two, of course, fall into mad love roughly 80 pages in, and then proceed to make (both figuratively and literally explosive) love in tents and inns all over the country, before fleeing both the war and their Templar pursuers towards the Tevinter Imperium.

While controversial in its choice of protagonists, the book is commended often on its creative yet heavily eroticized use of magic, and its accuracy in depicting the difficulties of stripping off armor while in the ~throes of passion~.

Vol.03.: Vyrantium Samite

As a hard pivot from the previous two books' southern settings, the third installment of the series continues in Tevinter, and takes the reader to a fictional version of the underbelly of the upper echelons of Imperial society, featuring the entanglement of a handsome magister and an equally handsome Orlesian ex-chevalier in the heart of Minrathous. It's easily the most inaccurate to its setting of all the books, and it sparked quite a bit of controversy both with its generous blasphemies, and by coming out in the same year as Lord Gallanter Pismire's "The Magister’s Temptation", and Lord Gustave Thibault Beaumarchais’ "Champions of the Lust - To Break an Imperial Stallion", which both feature some eerily similar characters.

This, of course, fizzled out quickly, as it soon became obvious that these books were not all copies of each other, but were merely inspired by the exact same people (with Pismire and Beumarchais drawing on the Inquisitor's figure far less subtly), and Vyrantium Samite at least never used expressions like "quivering flesh-cavern", or "pulsing man-meat". (Editions after the first one feature a mysterious endorsement on the back cover signed only as "R.": "To draw from life with such boldness is a thing both wonderful, and mildly terrifying.")

Vol.04: Fade-touched Velvet

Any semblance of and overarching plot or an interconnection that the previous installments would have introduced is chucked straight out the window, as this installment is written from the perspective of Juliette, a cheeky apprentice in the newly formed College of Enchanters, and recounts her taboo romance with an enchanting desire demon seeking to possess her. (Which explains why exactly the titular "velvet" is "fade-touched".)

The demon's shapeshifting abilities are, of course, explored in extreme depth, touching on yet more Andrastian themes of blasphemy and desire that leave the average reader feeling both flustered and vaguely guilty, and the book ends with a series-atypical cliffhanger that had readers writing letter after disgruntled letter to the Randy Dowager in such numbers, that Her Ladyship had to put out a notice that she will simply stop reviewing the series if people don't stop bugging her about it. (Five scarves fluttered in shock out of five, of course.)

Vol.05.: Rough Hide

The author seems to dial the oddities back in with this installment, as it features, once more, a fairly common Orlesian plot structure and a conventional depiction of a fictional Grey Warden, a gruff and determined dwarf woman with a heart of gold, and her partner, a plucky, yet sweet recruit- a thief both petty and pretty, who chose to join the Order as an alternative to either a hanging, or a Chantry cloister.

This one, though still explicit, is cited as by far the most loving, most romantic book in the series, as the "burn" seems slowest in this one, and the characters' palpable bond tugs at the heartstrings. The two often meditate on mortality, love, and loss- mostly after bouts in the bedroll that definitely fit the title.

The dedication of this book raises eyebrows, as it is merely "Thinking Always of You".

Vol.06: TBA

The newest installment was set to be released 9:53 Dragon, but, well... it wasn't, for obvious reasons.

Rumor has it, the title was to be Paragon's Luster, and it intended to delve quite deep into Orzammar's caste politics and royalty (again, both figuratively and literally), but it'll understandably take a few years to actually be released, if it ever will be.

[formal-frog-shoes]

Twiststuck stuff i just wanna get out

Im a huge Cater multi-shipper

Normally this wouldn't be a problem

BUT I CAN'T HAVE ALMOST EVERYONE IN THIS AU HAVE A FLUSH OR PALE CRUSH ON HIM THAT'S ABSURD!!!

[majorproblems77]

all right! For a fic request how about some Sky, Wild, Hyrule crack/fluff? I know people usually pair up wild and hyrule as the chaotic adventurers who explore and get lost, but I’d love to see Sky get in on the action. Do with it what you will 😉 angst or no angst

Oh what a fun combination! (I love gremlin Sky.)

"Hey! Where are you two off to anyway?"

Sky found the Hyrule and Wild headed into the woods. The traveller and the champion looked back at him with a smile passing between them.

"Oh hey Sky! We were just...." Hyrule started, looking to Wild his eyes flicking between the champion and the skyloftian.

"Yeah. Just..." Wild tried to get the sentence but Sky stopped him. His arms crossed.

"Where are you going?" the skyloftian's voice was monotone, concern laced through it. Last time he caught them sneaking off they got lost and were missing for three days before Wolfie had managed to bring them back to camp.

Man he loved that wolf.

"We were going cliff jumping..." Hyrule gave a sheepish smile scratching the back of his head.

Cliff jumping? He loved cliff jumping!

The Skylofian's eyes lit up, his hands grasping together in excitement. "Can I come?"

"You want to?" Wild asked, confusion in his eyes as he and Hyrule shared a look.

Sky crossed his arms, "I spend my life jumping from my island home in the sky to land on a loftwing to fly around. We've not been to my home in months and I miss that wind. Of course, I want to." the skyloftian gave a hopeful smile. As the others looked on.

"And..." The skyloftian placed his hands behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he looked to his right, back in the direction of the camp. "I could clear things up with Time. When we get back..."

Wild and Hyrule looked at each other and then smiled. the spark of adventure flashing across them.

"Well then let's go!"

---

"So Wild... You know the way back?" Sky asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the champion climb down from his perch up a tall tree.

"So you know how none of us are good with navigation..." Wild landed on the ground with a gentle thud.

"Wolfe is gonna be so mad again..." Hyrule deflated, as he looked at their surroundings.

"Oh, I can totally help with that." Sky smiled between them two. "you just let me handle it alright?" The Skyloftian smiled as he settled under the tree. "If we are going to wait for Wolfie to find us, might as well catch up on my sleep while we wait."

Sky settled under the tree and was just about to doze off when he heard a call from the forest. A wolf call.

"Wolfie! Thank Hylia!" Hyrule ran over to the wolf as it appeared through the trees.

The wolf growled, his eyes clearly unimpressed.

"Oh don't be angry!" Sky said, "Hyrule and Wild were helping me!" Sky smiled as he walked over. The wolf tilted its head in confusion as the Skyloftian patted it on the head.

"Yeah! He asked us to join him..." Wild said, forcing a smile through his teeth.

"You see..." Sky started, as he held his arms, an expression Wild and Hyrule had seen before. "And you can't tell the others. I've been feeling really homesick." The wolf lowered his head as a wine escaped it. Gently bumping its nose against Sky's hand. "I know you've spent your life on the ground but I spent my life in the sky. Freefalling was a daily activity." Sky sat on the ground, allowing the wolf to pad at his legs.

"Wild said he's seen somewhere high enough to feel like it. so. He and Hyrule brought me here. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it." Sky looked away. "It's not exactly like falling at home is. But it's kind of close. Can we stay for just a little longer? Please?"

Wolfie sits, giving a single nod. Before settling under a nearby tree.

"Thank you! Thank you thank you!" Sky sounded ecstatic, as he stood quickly. "Wild, let me show you how to fall properly. Come on!"

Wolfie remained sat with Hyrule while Sky and Wild jumped a few more times. each time yells of enjoyment and laughter escape the pair.

"We should get back. It's almost dark.."

---

Walking back into Camp was an adventure. the look on Time's face seeped disappointment, as he spotted Wild and Hyrule first.

"Well, that's two of the three. is Sky with you?"

"I'm here." Sky waved as he too entered the surrounds of camp. giving a small smile

"And where have you been...?"

Times Gaze turned to Sky as he wrung his hands.

"Well... I was feeling homesick. and Wild and Hyrule found this Cliff to jump off. They were just trying to cheer me up, please don't be mad at them!" The skyloftian pleaded with the older hero.

Time's gaze softened as he placed a hand on the Skyloftians shoulder. "Next time Sky. Just tell us where your going, we've been worried sick about where you three have been."

"I will. I will. " He beamed as he entered the camp, leaving Time with Hyrule and Wild.

"Ahh no you dont." The older hero stopped them. "We are talking about this when Twilight gets here.

"Wolfie, will you go and find Twilight, tell him to come back as it's safe." The wolf huffed in response before turning and sprinting off into the forest and out of sight.

The three heroes stood in silence before they heard the rustling of someone coming through the trees behind them.

Twilight.

"Ahh there you two are! You had me worried sick." The rancher looked over to camp to find the Skyloftian a smile on his face as he and Wind shared a hug. "you found Sky too! good."

"It is. Now you owe this one an apology, you've had him pacing circles around camp for hours now."

"Sorry, Twi..."

"No worries cub, I know you two need y'all space, just tell someone next time." The rancher smiled as he patted Wild on the shoulder.

"We will. Thanks Twilight..."

With that the two heroes walked into Camp, Wild moving over to the cooking pot, might be worth trying to make that Pumpkin soup recipe.

Just in case something in the Skyloftian was telling the truth when he said he was homesick.

Just in case....

[orcelito]

I wrote. 1k words today!!!!!!!! For dad vash au!!!! So the document is now 3.5k words long (almost a third of them written just Today)(I've been working on this WIP off and on for Months now.....) so that's exciting!!!!!

Idk there was just a feeling midday of like. My brain being surprisingly clear?? Weird bc I didn't get enough sleep last night. But I took full advantage of it.

Hope that this kinda thing keeps up. Maybe I can actually fucking post something finally.