#Feir writing

[elsabet-writes]

Daily Writing Adventures: We have Established that our Main Man is perpetually sleep deprived (yay, representation!) and also could not keep a house plant alive if his life depended on it.

[christian-oc-tournament]

Please vote based on the picture AND the description!

Feire [False Colours @elsabet-writes]

Feire is a mage with far too much on her plate. She SHOULD have been the bookish and quirky daughter of two rather eccentric architects, but she has unfortunately had to shoulder the responsibility of being the only levelheaded person in her eclectic found-family group. By day Feire works as an artificer and by night she spies on the shady ring of rival mages bent on taking over her industry and by extension, her beloved hometown. Using her superior knowledge of her hometown (designed by her ancestors) she’s managed to become quite a thorn in her enemies’ collective side, but her days are numbered, and if she is to undermine their nefarious plans, she’ll have to ally herself with her brand new arch-nemesis to do it…but can she manage the task without being unmasked? Feire hides behind her reputation as a hard working and mild-mannered—if somewhat odd—professional in her distinctive pale coat that marks her as an artificer. People tend to overlook her, because she’s always right where she’s supposed to be…or is she?

Gail Goffrey [Terrarium Lights @larissa-the-scribe]

An empty-nester with a passion for moss, bugs, and terrariums--and adopting stray kids (ghosts) who end up in her garden. She might not really understand what is going on, but by golly she is going to be a kind, supportive influence. 

[starry-moonshine]

Hii!! May I ask a ziggy berman x fem!reader smut which is the part 2 of “ I’m on fire “ but then gets caught by sheila then sheila goes all homophobic and stuff, Thanks !!

Hi, love! Thank you for requesting this. It was fun writing this.

I wrote this while in school 😐😬

-

I'm On Fire (pt.2) - Ziggy Berman

Pairing: Ziggy Berman x Fem!Reader (featuring Shelia)

Requested: yes

Warnings: SMUT, minors DNI, thigh riding, fingering, scissoring, oral (f both receiving), getting caught in the act, homophobia, swearing, and crude hand gestures

Word Count: 963

Summary: Being the teens you are, you and Ziggy decide to spend some alone time together underneath the hanging tree until Sheila catches you two in the act.

Sadie Sink Masterlist

While you help clean up the dock around the lake, you feel someone behind you, snaking their arms around your waist. The hug startles you as you look behind your shoulder, seeing your girlfriend hugging you.

"Hi, Ziggy."

"Please, can we go to my cabin?"

"Ziggy, I am helping Cindy and Tommy clean the deck from the campers swimming."

"I know, but you're not a camp counselor. Please," She begs.

"Fine, let's go."

Ziggy pulls you towards her, you follow her into the woods and over to a secluded area also known as Sarah Feir's hanging tree. The tree gave you weird vibes ever since you came to Nightwing, but ignore it when you feel Ziggy's lips against yours.

You feel yourself weaken in the knees as your girlfriend deepens the kiss, pinning you against the tree. The bark pokes at your back, causing you to slightly groan as it turns on Ziggy.

“Wait.”

“What?” She asks, brows furrowed.

You pull your top over your head, dropping it on the ground beside you both. Your bare chest is bare as Ziggy begins playing with your exposed nipples. In the meantime, you begin to feel weak as you release a breathy moan as Ziggy presses her lips against yours.

She pulls away from you as she lowers her hands down to your shorts, unbuttoning them and sliding her hand in your pantries lightly nipping at your clit with her finger tips. You grab Ziggy’s arm, looking her in the eyes.

You grab Ziggy’s hand, removing it from your panties and pushes her, turning around and pinning her against the bark, stripping Ziggy from her clothes. You finish undressing yourself, now completely bare, laying Ziggy down as you position yourself on top of her. She swings her leg over your hip as your clits touch each other. You begin bucking your hips against hers as Ziggy moves against you, moaning loudly. You go harder making it difficult to keep the moans and pants in as you both feel close. Ziggy bucks her hips faster against you, clits brushing against on another causing you to hit your high, riding it out as your girlfriend does the same. You fall beside her, pnating as Ziggy chuckles before sitting up, kissing your neck.

She begins to kiss the sensitive skin, sucking on it lightly as she marks your skin. Ziggy was a bit possessive when it came to you, so she wanted everyone to know who you belonged to. She leads a trail of kisses down to your collar bones, kissing every inch of your chest. She lightly flicks her tongue against your nipple, causing you to breath heavily.

“Ziggy~” You breath out, holding your hands up to your mouth.

Ziggy grabs your hands and puts them above your head. She uses her free hand to insert her middle and ring finger inside your wet cunt. Thrusting in and out a bit faster every few seconds.

Soon you hit your high quite fast, causing your hips and thighs shake a bit. Ziggy smirks at you before she pulls her fingers out of your wet entrance, licking your juices off her fingers. She lowers herself in front of your entrance, using her hands and holding your legs open. Spreading them so Ziggy can deep inside you with her fingers.

She begins with lightly licks and sucks against your clit before inserting her fingers in you again, but this time she makes things a bit more difficult.

“Oh, my god! Oh shit.” You say quietly.

You squirm under her touch, kissing your clit and giving light licks too. She sucks on it as you, who is under her, becomes to overwhelmed by the pleasure that your body gives in and shakes like crazy. Before you can even hit your high, you rise up and tackle Ziggy to the ground doing the same gestures to her that she did to you. You kiss her, finger her and give her oral, pleasuring her as she reaches down and rubs your clit causing you to come. Your juices drip on Ziggy as you continue on at the same time you ride out your orgasm.

When she’s near, you hear rustling in the wooded area around you but ignore and focus on your girlfriend. Before Ziggy could ride out her high, you and her watch as Sheila catches you both.

“Holy shit,” she shouts, covering her eyes.

“Fuck!”

You and Ziggy grab your clothes, throwing them on and trying to escape but Sheila stops you both.

“Wow, two dykes fucking. Holy shit, you know what they do to people who are homos.”

“We—” You begin before getting cut off by your girlfriend, Ziggy.

“Fuck off, Sheila. Who gives a shit. The only person who cares this much about homos fucking is you. Maybe you’re the homo, Sheila. Is that why you’re always on our asses?”

“No, I— I’m not into that bullshit. It’s gross,” She spills.

Sheila continues to scold you both as Ziggy hold up her hands, outstretching her middle finger and pointing it towards the brunette bully.

“Oh no, hope you don’t vomit.” You laugh.

“Ugh,”

Ziggy keeps a serious expression Sheila runs away, back to camp. She is probably gonna tell someone but they won’t believe her anyway. You and Ziggy look at each other.

“What a bitch she is.”

“Yeah,” Ziggy agrees before grabbing your hips and uses her fingers grab your belt loops, pulling you closer.

She brings your lips to hers, feeling the warm feeling coming back before you break away from each other. She drags you back to camp and into her cabin, finishing what both started. You both fall into the pleasure once more, enjoying each other’s company before it’s time to gather for group activities.

[lyxthen]

Hi there, I'm Lyxthen!

You can call me Lyx. I write and draw sometimes. This is my main blog, and where I post most of my art and unfortunately also my opinions. Because I'm very opinionated. Sorry.

Currently really into Ace Attorney.

Side blogs:

@lyxthen-reblogs - The bulk of the posts I like enough to share go here. Pretty much anything goes.

@naruthandir - Blog dedicated to The Lord of the Rings and other Tolkien works, as well as high fantasy in general.

@bugfacts - Anything and everything about arthropods. It contains bugs, so stay away if you don't like that. Mostly dormant.

@posts-for-the-ages - A personal archive of posts I deem good enough to print down some day (yes, really).

@lore-rekindled - Personal worldbuilding project. I'm still working on it, though the blog is mostly dormant.

@feirings - About my original species, the Feirings, and all topics related. Mostly dormant.

Other Places I'm On:

AO3 | Pinterest | Instagram | NeoCities | Reddit

Ask about my OCs! Please?

From left to right: Andrae, Wynn, and Luwën.

[the-superman-kent-blog]

honestly joker could have been a great hero if he didn’t kill anyone i mean the guy is a genius but he wastes his talents on killing people i’m seriously he could’ve created the cure for cancer or depression but he had to kill i just don’t understand the joker he had one bad day whatever that was and he decided to become a killer and a psychopath dispite have intelligence cemperable to Batman’s honestly i don’t get him i get you superman why you do what you do but joker i just don’t understand why he does what he dose what made the joker the joker but whatever it is i don’t get it if it is means anything than yeah i might knew if you see a joker wearing a hawiian shirt and jacket with a camera that would be Batman’s creation to be feir batman don’t know who he was but he was scared of batman before becoming the joker he was a guy who just like batman or Bruce wayne found himself in the wrong place at wrong time he tripped and fell into the very chemical’s that made into the joker he had a family that he was told died before he become the joker what do you think about that i still find him pretty pitiful he’s a sick sad man but one then the less but just gotta ask what say about that

These are all good points. May i use them in an article I'm writing?

[starlight-scorpion]

With all this sexyman descendant stuff going on would anyone wanna see my discord/fluttershy fankid? Xyr an adult in the story I’m writing about fem and feir friends but what if in xyr backstory they went to sexyman high school udjsjsusjsj

[filthyrottenworm]

🪱hewwo uwu!!!! I’m Taaaaaazzy, Tazelein, contender for #1 worst person ever! I love being horrible and hated. Temporary intro post to make our blog less blank

Alter in a system and the biggest source of shame and self-loathing for the system, very toxic and terrible! I’m the evil one <3

Me n a few others will use this account, ssssooooo I’ll give you the run-down of who will probably be here! We use silly emojis to represent who’s talking elsewhere but I’m the only one writing this post. Made this account for us filthy nasty horrible rotten disgusting evil alters that the host likes to pretend don’t exist!

“🪱” me! Tazzy wazzy. Any pronouns work, the other alters refer to me as “he” for simplicity but I exist beyond pronouns. I’m the filthiest, rotten, worst thing ever! You cannot hurt me in any way that matters. Advocate for my right to wrong anyone

“🕸️” Webby-do-darling-sweetie-baby. Webbarachne or Webber is what they go by. “Websie” is a no-no nickname that gives them horrible flashbacks! They use any pronouns, with a preference for “it”. They are my offspring that was produced with Aranya! Also cannibalized us both, but, we’re back now <3. Websie likes bondage quite a bit and fantasizes about kidnapping people and tying them up in an attic to keep forever. Little babypie got us cancelled big time for abusing our ex

“♣️” Aranyarachne. My ex-wife! We were never actually married. She goes by she/it. Disgusting spider thing, big titty goth milf arachne spider centaur thing. She’s a dommy mommy who loves oviposition and laying her eggs in you until they hatch and cannibalize your body!

“🐜” Suzie. She’s a human girl that Aranya kept as a pet. Weak little thing. Pathetic wet thing. Doesn’t really understand pronouns, we just call her “she” for convenience

“🏛️” what name are they going by again? Oh right! Lambsilk. Cult enthusiast! Wants to start a new religion. Definitely not related to their fascination with cults! They’re definitely not interested in starting a cult. Idk their pronouns, simplyplural says they/them

“❣️” Redmageddon or red! Suuuuper obsessive. Wrote love letters with the body’s blood <3 (how cute!)… used to be some sort of weird begging to get our ex to torture us or something, now adores our only friend who stuck around after we got cancelled for being an abuser! It/its pronouns preferred, they/them accepted begrudgingly

“🎊” my niece! Puerejynx, goes by Jynx. Hates me. Wanted vengeance on someone for ruining her life, and then she unfortunately realized that she ruined her own life and doesn’t want vengeance anymore! Still loves horrible things. A spoiled rotten brat, thinks she deserves everything in the world, god complex, all the best things <3… pronouns fluctuate, she is always acceptable

“🫐” my nephew, Solynx. He/they. Cursed by his daddy (my cutesy baby brother) to be unable to use language to communicate, but he gets around it. Very boring and normal and vanilla and uninteresting. Once referred to as “the only sensible person in the system” which translates to “literally the most boring person in the system”

“🎆” the bitch with anger issues. Starbound. A lazer-shooting dragon. Also an angel, but who gives a shit? We call her she/her for simplicity

“🦤” Sethil, fey/fem/feir. A victim of absolutely horrible, atrocious abuse! Isn’t that cute? Probably won’t front, I’m just including fem because fey’d be disgusted to be on this list!

“🚀” Rocket, he/him. Hates everyone, thinks we’d be better off alone. Looks like Rocket from GOTG, only vaguely similar in identity, doesn’t consider his source to be “him”

“💋” Amour. Any pronouns, usually she/her, only refer to her with the utmost disrespect and fetishization. A whore.

“🦊” Ren Hana, he/him. Introject or whatchumacallit from BTD/TPOF. Considers his source to be “him”

“🍂” Lawrence, he/they. Introject or whatchumacallit from BTD. Idk what his relationship to source is and idc

“🩸” Yuri, she/her. Introject or whatchumacallit from DDLC. Considers her source similar to her and enjoys the story, but not actually her

There’s more of us but they don’t want to be associated with me in any capacity <3!!!! Which I don’t really care about and I’d love to humiliate them and doxx ourselves and get cancelled and then murdered, but unforch I’ll be kicked out of front if I try 💔

Anyway, all you need to know about us is that we were cancelled for abusing our ex! We absolutely did everything they said we did <3. It was super accidental though and we didn’t mean it 🥺

I don’t give a shit about human politics. You all deserve to be tortured forever without the mercy of death. I only support people’s wrongs, not their rights <3

[inevitable-pretty-chaos]

So... Wren has been tired lately because we have choir rehearsals every day and it's hard for them to form their thoughts and write with others after school. It's just like... Wren's brain isn't letting fem communicate and it deletes most of feir thoughts. So flame has problems with talking until flame rests. And the rest can last even two hours. It's really annoying.

~Xavery

[feirswifttail]

Chapter 1

[Note: So I never actually posted this!!! I wanted to get back into writing about my character Kairos so I went back to re-read what I had written before. And I’m like, girl where’s the rest? So here’s the first chapter, or basically the introduction.]

"psst, Kairos. Check this out!"

Kairos snapped out of her thoughts at the sound. She gave  her wrench one last push to make sure the bolt was securely fastened, and then popped out from the cannon she was working on. 

"What's u-

"Shhh," Airen cut her off, covering Kairos' mouth with a greasy paw. "S'posed to keep this on the downlow. Don't know who could be listening" Kairos followed her suspicious gaze back and forth across the workfloor, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

"Well, I guess there's no need to tell me if I can't know about it," Kairos shrugged and pushed Airen's paw away. "Best way to keep a secret is to not know it." She smiled impishly as she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe the grease off her face, and used it  to tie back her hair out of her face. 

"Kai you *know* I have to tell you now," Airen huffed, "Secrets are also no fun if you can't share them with at least somebody. But this isn't a silly cub secret - check this out," she pulled out some kind of crumpled papers - no, blueprints. To some kind of... Musket?

"Airen, our 'band is working on outfitting cannons, not infantry weapons."

"I know but this is different. It's not the blueprints for just any musket, it's for the," she paused, then leaned in close and whispered "Ghostbore Musket."

Kairos pulled away and stared at Airen wide-eyed. "Wait, *The* ..." she hesitated to say the name out loud. Now she knew why Airen was being so hush-hush.

"Yes. *The*" Airen repeated. 

"Wh- How did..." Kairos struggled to find the right words for all the questions filling her mind. These plans, hardly anyone even Knew about them, let alone was allowed to look at them. To have an actual Copy, or maybe even the Original, given how worn the paper looked to be. She leaned in and whispered to Airen "Does the Legionnaire know?"

"Of course, he's the one who gave them to me," she whispered back. It was a good thing both of the charr's horns did not grow forward due to how close they were whispering. Airen's whiskers brushed against Kairos' as she smiled, then pulled back and gave a little hop of excitement. "I can't wait to get started working with these. We're supposed to outfit these cannons, and-"

"Wait hold up," Kairos interrupted. "Why didn't he call the warband around and have us all go over this? Seems kind of important." It seems kind of suspicious, she thought to herself. 

"He probably didn't want anyone to overhear and steal our ideas. Or get jealous. You know how ol' Burntstep can be," Airen waved the air, as if to push away any of her own doubts.

"Is anyone else going to be helping us with this? I mean, we need someone to *read* the plans," Kairos poked a claw at Airen playfully. 

"ye- Hey!" she squeaked at the poke, causing both charr to giggle. "Just because I misread those plans that One Time, no one ever lets me catch a break!"

"I'm kidding, Airen," Kairos smiled at her friend. "Let's grab a quick drink and talk this over more inside."

"Kairos it's not even noon," 

"I meant water you doofus," she replied. "Besides, I really think Tenrad and Shiv would wanna get in on this. They're usually around for an early lunch, maybe we can catch one of them."

"Alright let's go then," and with that, the two of them set off towards the workyard break station.

The break station was basically the same as any other Iron legion workyard breakstation. There was a small campfire, a mid sized cooler to store the meat for lunch and water, and a few chairs to sit down while on break. One for every butt in the 'band, so nine unoccupied and two being used right now. Tenrad and Cordelia looked up and waved  as Kairos and Airen approached, and scooted so there was room for the four to all sit together.

"Airen, and Kairos, just the gals we wanted to see," Cordelia growled, but in that special Cordelia way that made you know she was Very pleased to see you. But also still intimidating. "Burntstep told us to wait for you. Said it was big. Let's see what you've got."

"It is big," Kairos agreed, pulling up a chair and setting down.

"Huge, you could even say," Airen added, also getting seated.

"Well don't toy with us, just spill it," Tenrad huffed, crossing his arms.

Airen beckoned everyone in closer, until their whiskers brushed uncomfortably against each others'. 

"We've got the Ghostbore blueprints," she whispered. Cordelia and Tenrad both narrowed their eyes in suspect and looked over at Kairos, who gave them a nod of affirmation. 

"Well, I'll be," Tenrad raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "The real deal?"

"The real deal," Airen confirmed, and leaned back. Kairos pinned her ears back, and the other charr looked around to see what she heard.

"Kairos can't you let a guy have an entrance?" a shifty voice came up behind them. They looked on to see Shiv, holding his hands over his heart and pouting out his lip dramatically.

"You're just mad I can hear your tippy toes," Kairos gave him a friendly crooked sneer in greeting as Shiv pulled up another chair to their meeting. "Sure you're not an Ash legion spy, here to take our secrets?"

"Guilty as charged," Shiv replied. "So, spill 'em. Let's hear about this 'Real Deal'."

"Burntstep got us a copy of the Ghostbore blueprints," Cordelia growled softly. Airen had handed them over to her, and she tilted the top towards Shiv so he could read the title.

He let out a whistle of disbelief. "Guess I got my work cut out for me, assuming ol' Burntstep wants to keep this under wraps?"

"I'd assume he wants us to keep it secret, otherwise he would have told the whole 'band," Kairos agreed. She was excited to get started working with the 'prints. How did they make it work against the ghosts so well? Could the technology really be stretched to fit their cannons? How much longer were they all going to sit around and not be working on this? Her tail twitched anxiously as her thoughts spun.

"He wants us to outfit our cannons with this stuff?" Tenrad asked, looking up from the plans Cordelia had passed over to him. "Looks tricky. Good thing we're the best 'band in all the legions." 

"C'mon, let's get working, then," Airen shuffled her feet as all of them looked towards Cordelia for their next move. As the Legionnaire's second in command, leadership of their little project fell onto her shoulders.

"Yeah yeah alright you grease kittens, let's get a move on," Cordelia growled as she stood up and started moving towards the cannon area of the workyard. The three followed her and Shiv slunk off to keep watch. 

[/time break]

The past few weeks had started wildly exciting, but had slowed to  a bore. Kairos blew a strand of hair out of her face as she screwed the two pieces of metal together. The Ghostbore plans were a lot more of a challenge than they had anticipated, and converting the firing mechanism from a hand weapon to their cannons was proving incredibly difficult.

"Why has this gotta be so hard?" Airen complained, laying flat splayed on the ground next to where Kairos was working.

"Because we're not doing anything new," Kairos answered, furrowing her brow as she looked back at her plans. "Just playing copycat with someone else's toys." The part she had made almost exactly like the plans outlined, and yet did not seem to work. Did the measurements have to be Exact? She had double checked the math on her scale increase, so it should be the exact same just 2x bigger. What was the secret to this?

"Cordelia has already gotten bored and is working with the other half of the 'band," Airen complained more. "And Tenrad is still cleaning up after he spilled whatever the heck these things shoot outta them off out of his fur."

"And you're still laying there, complaining to me instead of working," Kairos tried to jeer in a playful way, but her frustration must have come out more than she intended.

"Hey, I really was trying. But this is hopeless" Airen sat up, and started picking at her tail. 

"It's not hopeless, but yea, I'm frustrated too," Kairos sighed, putting down her current project. "I wish we coulda talked to the charr that wrote the original plans. Maybe then we could make some progress." Probably not. She'd heard rumors that they were a bit of a loose cannon. Tribune Brimstone had taken a liking to them, and she'd heard enough about him to know his priorities did not align with the Iron Legion's best interests.

"I'm gonna go shoot our prototype musket, see if I can determine what it's shooting," Airen started to stand up.

"Not again," Kairos argued. "Doing the same thing over and over isn't gonna give you any new results."

"I know," Airen sighed. "I'm just bored."

"Hmm," Kairos hummed, thinking. They had created an exact replica of the Ghostbore Musket from the original blueprints first, to try to understand how it worked. But the annotations on the plans were shoddy at best, and completely omitted for most pieces. And the thing didn't seem to require any sort of bullet, or ammunition of any kind. Fueled by some kind of magic instead. Tenrad had found out when he'd spilled the weird substance and couldn't seem to wash it out of his fur. 

"Waiiiittt..." Kairos drew out, trying to piece together something. The musket didn't take any bullets or ammunition, but managed to somehow form magic. All of them were Ironheads, with not much magic to share between them, yet somehow the gun had filled itself up. "Why don't we take it out for a field test?" Why didn't she think of it before? Firing test dummies would never get them the real 'Ghostbore' results like shooting an actual ghost would get! 

"But, won't we get seen?" Airen asked, hesitant.

"Who are you and what have you done with Airen?" Kairos joked at her. Airen was never one to ignore a risky adventure. She must have taken this whole secrecy thing to heart.

"I mean, yes I want to, but what if Burntstep finds out?"

"Then we better make sure he doesn't find out," Kairos nudged her friend. "Besides, ghosts are like flies out there, it'll be easy to lure one into some secret place where no one will see us. And you know I'll hear if anyone is coming."

"Well, you got me there," Airen shook the floor dust off of her. "C'mon, let's go quick."

"Not right now," Kairos laughed at Airen's eagerness to go. "Let's wait until dark."

[/later that night]

"Kai, I'm having second thoughts," Airen hissed softly from behind Kairos. The two of them had snuck out into the night and were hiding out near a small camp filled with ghosts. Kairos watched them, meandering around with a pointless purpose. The human ghosts acted like they were in the thick of a war, eternally cursed to believe their home was under attack. Some even mimed like they were cooking a meat that wasn't there over an unlit fire, and some lay on blankets that had long since rotted away. Trapped in time. She almost felt pity towards them, if they weren't such violent invasive pests on her peoples' homeland. 

Kairos turned towards Airen, holding a claw to her lips to keep quiet. She tiptoed over to where one of the ghosts stood off on his own, like he was supposed to be keeping watch. His head nodded periodically, like he was falling asleep. Ghosts don't sleep, but these believed they were still human, and acted as such. The musket seemed heavier in her hands as Kairos got in position. She had to make a clean shot, so as to give her enough time to examine her kill before the next watchman came out. She hoped the musket worked as intended, because if it didn't kill him in one shot, her and Airen would have a camp full of ghosts on their tails.

She took aim, slowing her breath so she heard nothing except the heartbeat of her prey. Or, she would have, had her prey have a heart. She fired the rifle, briefly surprised when it made no sound. She knew from the testing range the gun was silent, but using it outside she must have unconsciously believed it would be different.

And her aim held true. The magic that flew from her weapon met it's mark, and the nodding ghost... was gone. It happened almost too quick for her to see, and it took a second for her thoughts to register what had really happened. The shot pierced the ghost right through the neck, and as he dematerialized, seemed to be sucked into the space created by the shot. 

Time stood still for Kairos. She held her breath, waiting for the camp to go up in alarm, or for Airen to call something, heck, she almost expected Legionnaire Burntstep to pop up behind her to scold her on sneaking out. 

But none of that happened. Nothing happened. A bird or insect made a quiet sound far in the distance. Kairos slowly let out the breath she was holding, and time started again.

She slunk over to where the guard had been standing. No traces of ghosts. She examined her gun. Nothing was different. She crept back over to where Airen was hiding, and was met with a wide-eyed expression.

Airen opened her mouth and closed it a few times, her face a clear picture of the gears in her mind turning. Kairos smiled at her, sharing an expression of the same disbelief, but also triumph. The field test proved useful, in a way. They wordlessly moved back to their 'band bunks. Talking could wait until morning.

[/next morning]

"Kairos, I couldn't sleep," Airen whispered first thing in the morning.

"I know," Kairos replied. Airen's tossing and turning had kept her up most the night. Also the thoughts about the gun. She was beginning to piece it together. The Ghostbore Musket was rumored to not only kill ghosts, but to delay their reformation, possibly forever. 

"Kairos, you have a look," Airen said as she poked her head over her bunk, leaning over where Kairos lay. "Did you figure it out?"

"I..." she hesitated. Did she figure it out? She had plenty of ideas, but she had to test them to be sure. "I might have something. It might be completely wrong." Airen's eyes widened, eager to hear.

"How much time you need?"

"Give me 5 minutes to have some breakfast, then meet me by the cannon workbench," Kairos replied.

[/a few minutes later]

Airen was waiting for her by the workbench, munching on a roast chicken. They hadn't been making much progress, so the 'band wasn't getting much red meat anymore. 

"Ok, so here's my thoughts," Kairos began as Airen listened intently. "I think this rifle uses some kind of mists magic."

"Like, from the Mists?"

"Yea. I don't know how, but it does. Something about when it hits the ghost, it maybe opens up some sort of portal to the mists, small enough to suck the ghost in."

"But how does that stop them from coming back?"

"I think the cursed ghosts maybe never go to the mists. Like, when we kill 'em they don't actually get killed but instead just get smashed, like sand. Then they put themselves back together." Kairos shrugged. It sounded like a sound theory, but could also be wrong. Airen seemed convinced though.

"That's wild," she said. "I thought maybe the gunshot somehow just killed them even faster, which made them take longer to get their ghost thoughts together." she shrugged. "Yea, I don't understand ghosts or human magics."

"Yea, who knows what humans are thinking, ever." Kairos laughed.

"Ok ok, but tell me more," Airen urged.

"Yes so I think the gun uses some sort of mists magic. So, if we can figure out how, and I think it has something to do with the weird magic-y stuff. Something in the shape and size of the original blueprint is able to tap into the mists, or form some sort of connection, or, or something." Kairos spun her hand around, hoping the motion would move her mind in the right direction. She had ideas and thoughts, but they weren't quite at the word phase yet. 

"Ok, makes no sense to me. But I think you have an idea of what to do," Airen's muzzles moved around to follow the motions Kairos made. "Tell me what I can do to help."

The two of them got to work. Airen gathered the parts Kairos requested, and held up some of the heavier pieces. Kairos pulled her hair back with one of her grease handkerchiefs, trying to keep from being distracted. If her idea was right, this could really be huge. They made five of the ammo pools same as the original design, and then a tunneling converter to channel whatever magic that got shot into the barrel of the cannon. 

It went against protocol to crawl down the business end of a cannon, but  Kairos wanted to be sure everything was lined up right. She thought she was being smart by blocking the firing mechanism. Her tail whipped around with excitement, and she could just barely hear Airen's laughter from the outside of the cannon. She probably looked ridiculous, with her rump sticking out of the cannon, her big hind feet holding the rim securely as she worked face first inside the huge gun. She tightened the last screw in place, giving it an ol' iron legion tap. Feeling satisfied with the converter in place, she placed the wrench in her jaws to use both hands to help wriggle herself out. 

Kairos heard a high pitched whine.

Kairos heard an Airen pitched cry.

Kairos didn't hear anything.

[/time skip]

Kairos heard whispers.

Kairos heard faint music.

Kairos heard her name.

"Kairos..." a voice whispered.

"Kairos." a voice spoke.

"KAIROS." a voice shouted.

She shot up, opened her eyes, and immediately closed them with regret. There was nothing around her, yet also everything. She wasn't sitting, or laying down, or standing. She couldn't feel anything, yet she felt so much. She hurt, she felt tired and rested, hungry and full, thirsty and parched. She felt satisfied, and yet so so uncomfortable.

"Kairos." a voice spoke.

She shook her head. Kairos. That's her name. 

"You do not belong here." the voice spoke. 

It was gentle, motherly. It was firm, commanding, motherly.

"Go back home." the voice spoke. 

It was kind, like a mother. It was cold and demanding, like it was not her mother. It crackled, like mothers are prone to do.

Were mothers prone to crackling?

"Go." the voice spoke.

It was gentle, like a crackle. It was mother, like a demand. It was gone, and Kairos went as well.

[/time skip]

Kairos heard footsteps approach her. 

"What the h- what are you doing here? This is a restricted area," A voice, a charr voice, called out to her. It was angry, concerned, confused.

So was she.

Kairos ached, but she sprung up. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before opening her eyes. It did not hurt. She saw the workspace, empty. She saw a charr moving towards her, not empty. He had a weapon. Drawn.

"What time is it?" Kairos asked, eyes wide. She was supposed to be working. Did she pass out? She couldn't remember what she was supposed to be working on. Was she supposed to go home? That sounded familiar.

"It's ... uh, 4 pm?" The charr sounded confused. The charr. Kairos was charr, who was this charr? 

"4pm." Kairos repeated. That wasn't right, it was morning, she had just got to working. Or was it supposed to be night? She was supposed to go home...

"What are you doing here?" the charr asked her. He had lowered his weapons. He was not scared of her, he was confused of her. Confused by her. Was she confusing.

"I am not sure. I think I am supposed to go home?" Kairos asked him. Both felt as if they would much rather not be having this conversation. He stared blankly at her for a few seconds. 

"Who," he cleared his throat. "Who is your Legionnaire?" he asked her. Her Legionnaire? Her Legionnaire was not here. He had a fun sounding name, and she always knew when he was approaching because of his uneven walk. He had injured his foot. Some kind of fire magic.

"Legionnaire Burntstep." she replied. His eyes widened at her answer. 

"Are you," he seemed nervous now. "Are you Kairos?" Kairos. Yes.

"Yes, that's me," she answered with a slight nod. "And you are?"

"I need to take you to the tribune right now," he said, not answering her question. "Please, come with me." He hesitated for a second, then extended his hand towards hers. She took it instinctively. This situation felt odd to her, but she felt it best to follow the rules. He wanted to take her to the Tribune. Did her Legionnaire get in trouble? 

The two of them stood, hand in hand for a second. Neither seemed to know what to do next. The charr gave a little chuff of laughter. Kairos looked over at him, head tilted slightly in question.

"This is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me," he answered her silent question. "Call me Rend."

"Nice to meet you, Rend." Kairos answered, moving their held hands in a shake motion. "This is also the weirdest thing that's happened to me, although if I'm being honest, I don't really know what's happening."

"Oh. Yea, that makes sense," he said. They started walking. "I mean, you just sort of appeared. One second you weren't there, the next you were. I think it's insane, but well, you're the one doing the appearing." He chuckled again in disbelief. Some charr find it comforting to laugh in the face of discomfort, uncertainty, or even fear. He didn't seem scared of her. He seemed very confused. She felt similar.

"Yea, I supposed it makes sense." she laughed a little bit too. 

"Do you," he started. Rend cleared his throat, thinking his words carefully. "What do you remember?"

What did she remember?

"I remember..." she started. Thinking. "I remember I woke up, but I was tired. I don't think I slept well. I remember having to go to work. It was morning. I remember having big ideas, big plans, big thoughts. I remember hearing a friend. I remember being satisfied with my work. I remember... " she paused for a moment. "A voice. Telling me it was time to go home."

He didn't stop walking, but he stared at her in disbelief. "Damn dude." He didn't know what else to say. She didn't know what else to say. She shrugged.

"What do you remember?" Kairos asked him. 

"What do I?" he paused. "Well, I remember I woke up this morning, trained with my band until noon. I was assigned to guard this area for any suspicious activity this afternoon. I remember seeing nothing, I remember being bored, and I remember suddenly seeing you. Just there. Where you weren't a second before." He gave another pause. "And I remember the stories about Burntstep's 'band." Rend said the last bit in a whisper. But Kairos heard him. 

Stories of his 'band? Her warband? She was beginning to think something hokey had happened. She had a lot of questions.

"What kind of stories?" was what she chose to ask.

"The bad kind," he said. He swallowed uncomfortably. His palm pad was starting to get sweaty in her grip. They were almost to the Tribune's quarters. She felt like she was going to get in trouble. She did something wrong, and she was going to be punished. The thought traveled down her spine in a shiver, and she felt herself begin to sweat. 

[/time skip]

Kairos was in trouble. 

Well, more officially Legionnaire Burntstep was in trouble. He was accused of plagiarism, among other things. Apparently he did not get the blueprints through official means. He got his title stripped. He was no longer around. Kairos could not get a clear answer of if he was like, dead, but it was not something people were willing to talk to her about.

Her warband was in trouble. Cordelia, Tenrad, and Shiv were accused of complacency. They assisted in a project that they knew was not permitted. They were allowed to go their own way. Kairos heard Shiv had found himself a new warband, one that fit his skillset better. Kairos also heard that Cordelia had joined with the Sentinels. She also heard one whisper, presumably one she was not supposed to hear, about Cordelia's death. Cordelia had died the way she had lived: hissing and spitting in the face of danger. Dragon minions are just a bit more dangerous than experimental weaponry. Kairos heard Tenrad had joined the Durmund Priory, and was stuffing his nose in old OLD blueprints now. 

Her warband was in trouble. The other members changed their name, appointed a new Legionnaire, and washed their hands of the ordeal. They had to serve scrapper duty for two weeks, and have since moved on.

Her friend was in trouble. Airen Heavystep was accused of the murder of her bandmate, Kairos. She heard Airen was distraught. She heard Airen was in tears. She heard the rest of the 'band vouched for Airen; She and Kairos were best buds, Airen would never do such a thing. She heard that Airen was stripped of her rank. Stripped of the dignity of calling herself a charr. She heard that Airen worked at the docks in Lion's Arch, with a heavy heart. 

Kairos was in trouble. She was accused of being murdered. And yet, here she was. Not. Like, not dead. At least not anymore. Her 'death' was roughly three years ago. 

She felt a little bit ashamed. Like, what kind of charr was she, couldn't even stay dead. She also felt a little bit proud. Like, she was the kind of charr that could just say 'no thanks!' to death. Obviously she didn't want to push her luck and try it a second time, but the thought was nice. She also felt a little bit tired. She was given scrapper duty. A bit of a harsh punishment for being murdered, but she felt she owed it to her old band to do at least the same amount of time they did. She only had to work for a month. Then she thought she might try to find a new band. Maybe visit Airen way over in Lion's arch. Maybe not, it might scare her poor old friend out of her skin. 

And so she scrapped. And listened. She never knew how full the scrapyards were. Voices, everywhere. Some she could barely hear. Some quite loud, but making no sense to her. Like a different language. Sometimes she stood still and would just listen. Sometimes she would lose track of time, listening. Sometimes a firm, motherly voice would crackle at her. A command. 

"Kairos."

She got back to work.

[elsabet-writes]

I have come to a most distressing conclusion: This story needs to be told from first person POV.

[christian-oc-tournament]

Please vote based on the picture AND the description!

Saskia [False Colors @elsabet-writes]

Saskia is a teeny tiny feral gremlin girl sent to study abroad by parents who feared her abilities as a blood-mage. Adopted into the family of her first-cousin-once-removed, Saskia has finally found a family that wants her, but her past just won’t let her go. Fueled by a deep desire to cause maximum chaos, Saskia has allied herself with her cousin, Feire, and has been helping her spy on a ring of deeply shady and corrupt corporate mages whose goal is to take over several of the town’s thriving industries to line their own pockets. Saskia stands out in a crowd, with her bright hair and willingness to cause a scene. Friends and enemies alike respect her for her ability to take down opponents twice her size using her distinctive style of blood magic.

Senaka [Krudunia Zrea @scribbly-bear]

Senaka is sisterly and compassionate and she doesn't hesitate to stand up to what she believes is right. She is a sheema, a creature I made up, she is also a shek. (princess) Senaka has grown up during a war between the mythical creatures and the humans. She was raised to believe humans were evil, but after meeting one for herself she realizes this isn't true. She teams up with him as well as a few mythical creatures to stop the war peacefully.

[a-series-of-whumpy-events]

I do not remember what the actual title of this piece was originally, so it’s gotten a relaunch. I also need to point out again that the story told in here is not original- it’s an Irish legend that has about fifty different versions. I simply rewrote the story in my own words. This piece serves as a direct sequel to Feiring, and is part of the same arc.

Warnings: this piece is nothing but fluffy!

Taglist: @rat-father @whump-it @whump-me-all-night-long @tears-and-lilies @cupcakes-and-pain @hearse-song @sola-whumping @caspia-writes @cursedandtired @oswaldinator3000

Thrall: Eventyr

It was Ilka who started the whole thing. After the evening meal she threw open the longhouse door and bellowed to anyone within range to finish their work quickly and come inside. Devin helped her make a small fire at the side of the near-empty longhouse. Ilka’s eyes gleamed as she handed out bowls of fish soup to the people making their way in from the cold.

Everything was different with most of the men gone on the raid. The Viking women and children, and what few men still remained, left the slaves to their own business in the evenings. After a fight had broken out three nights before, Ilka had taken matters into her own hands and loudly declared that she wouldn’t stand for any more arguing. “It’s not often we get this kind of freedom,” she said. “We’ll not be wasting it brawling.”

And so she had come up with this. Each night she made a fire and a hot meal, and everyone sat around it and told stories. Sometimes they were ones Devin had heard in Ireland, other times they made Ilka sigh as she remembered them from Scotland. A few stories were from other places even farther away. Devin enjoyed every single one.

“Is that everyone inside?” Ilka said. “All right, then.” She leaned down and picked up a flat, round stone, tossing it up and down in her hand. “Who’s to be our storyteller tonight, then? Come on, out with it, someone.”

Devin looked around the circle, waiting for someone to speak up. Ilka shrugged and gave the stone a toss.

It landed at Devin’s feet.

“Ah! Found him.” Ilka grinned fiendishly at him. “How’s about a story from you, laddie?”

“Ilka, I-I don’t think-“ Devin began.

“Just toss it back if you don’t want to. But I’d like to hear you give it a go.” Ilka’s mischievous grin turned into an encouraging smile. “There’s none here who’ll laugh if you don’t sound as good as the skalds. Why, we could barely understand Pavel last evening and he came out all right.” She gestured to a mountainous Russian man on the other side of the circle, who grinned back at her and said something in such a thick accent Devin couldn’t puzzle out what it was. Ilka seemed to know, though- she cackled and slapped the big man on the shoulder.

It was that which decided it for Devin. Ilka was always cheerful and bold as brass. But something had changed about her, too. She was more open, more relaxed, less focused on her work. Her brogue had thickened a little, and she seemed…happier. Even for Ilka.

I’m not the only one who’s doing better with Mikkel gone.

Devin took a deep breath and turned the stone over, rubbing it over his palm and trying to remember how the storytellers he had heard began their tales. He looked up, a slight smile on his face, and addressed the whole circle.

“Have you heard the story of Conal, Donal, and Taig?”

No one had. Ilka smiled proudly at him, and so Devin leaned forward into the firelight and began to tell the story.

———————————————————————

“In the old times, long ago, there lived three brothers called Conal, Donal, and Taig. And these three had an argument over which of them owned a certain field. They each had just the same claim to the field as the others, and so no judge they went to could decide who ought to have the field. So finally they went to a judge who was very wise and famous, and they laid their case before him.

“Give me a night and a day,” said the judge, “and I’ll think it over and decide. Sure, if this isn’t one of the hardest cases I’ve ever heard!” The brothers agreed, and so the judge thought it over for a night and a day, and then called the brothers back.

“I’ve weighed the evidence through and through,” said the judge, “and deliberated every side as much as I can deliberate it. Sure as I live, lads, there’s no one of you that has any more claim to that field than the others. It’s the greatest puzzle I’ve ever puzzled over. But”- and he drew himself up tall and pushed out his chest and made himself look as wise as he knew how- “no puzzle puzzles me for long. I’ll soon decide who gets the field. Now, the three of you look to me like lazy fellows, who wouldn’t plow that field if you got it. So whichever one of you is the laziest shall have the field.”

“Then the field is mine,” said Conal. “I’m the laziest man of us by far. Why, I’m so lazy that if I were lying in the middle of the road, and a hunting party came galloping down it, I’d lie there and let them ride over me before I’d move.”

“That’s lazy indeed,” said the judge, “and I’m not sure Donal and Taig can be as lazy as that.”

“Not so!” said Donal. “For I’m every bit as lazy! Why, I’m so lazy that if I were sitting right by a bonfire, and you piled all the peat in the county and all the wood in the forest on it, I’d sit there and let myself burn black before I’d move.”

“Faith,” said the judge, “you’re a lazy man indeed, and I’m afraid poor Taig hasn’t got a chance.”

“Give me my turn,” said Taig, “for I’m as lazy as my brothers. Why, I’m so lazy that if I were lying in the grass of the meadow, and the rain came pouring down, I’d sit there and let it soak me to the skin before I’d move.”

“Well,” said the judge, “it seems clear to me that all three of you are as lazy as lazy can be, and which one is the laziest I can’t say. But here’s another go- whichever one of you is the oldest shall have the field.”

“Then the field is mine,” said Conal. “I’m the oldest man of us by far. Why, I’m so old that when I was twenty-one I got a load of awls from the market, and never lost nor broke one of them, and the last of them wore out yesterday while I was mending my shoes.”

“That’s old indeed,” said the judge, “and I’m not sure Donal and Taig can be as old as that.”

“Not so!” said Donal. “For I’m every bit as old! Why, I’m so old that when I was twenty-one I got a load of needles from the market, and never lost nor broke one of them, and the last of them wore out yesterday while I was mending my clothes.”

“Faith,” said the judge, “you’re an old man indeed, and I’m afraid poor Taig hasn’t got a chance.”

“Give me my turn,” said Taig, “for I’m as old as my brothers. Why, I’m so old that when I was twenty-one I got a load of knives from the market, and never lost nor broke one of them, and the last of them wore out yesterday while I was shaving my chin.”

“Well,” said the judge, “it seems clear to me that all three of you are as old as old can be, and which one is the oldest I can’t say. But here’s another go- whichever one of you has the keenest sight shall have the field.”

“Then the field is mine,” said Conal. “I’m the keenest-sighted man of us by far. Why, I’m so keen of sight that if there were a fly perched on a mountain ten miles away, I could tell you each time he blinked.”

“That’s keen of sight indeed,” said the judge, “and I’m not sure Donal and Taig can be as keen of sight as that.”

“Not so!” said Donal. “For I’m every bit as keen of sight! Why, I’m so keen of sight that if there were a fly perched on a mountain ten miles away, I could tell you whether there was a speck in his eye that made him blink.”

“Faith,” said the judge, “you’re keen of sight indeed, and I’m afraid poor Taig hasn’t got a chance.”

“Give me my chance,” said Taig, “for I’m as keen of sight as my brothers. Why, I’m so keen of sight that if there were a fly perched on a mountain ten miles away, I could tell you whether or not he was in good health by counting his heartbeats.”

“Well,” said the judge, “it seems clear to me that all three of you are as keen of sight as keen can be, and which one is the keenest of sight I can’t say. But here’s another go, and if this doesn’t decide I’ll have to give the case up- whichever one of you is the cleverest shall have the field.”

“Then the field is mine,” said Conal. “I’m the cleverest man of us by far. Why, I’m so clever that I could make a shirt for a man that would fit him perfectly if I only heard the color of his hair.”

“That’s clever indeed,” said the judge, “and I’m not sure Donal and Taig can be as clever as that.”

“Not so!” said Donal. “For I’m every bit as clever! Why, I’m so clever that I could make a shirt for a man that would fit him perfectly if I only heard him cough.”

“Faith,” said the judge, “you’re a clever man indeed, and I’m afraid poor Taig hasn’t got a chance.”

“Give me my chance,” said Taig, “for I’m as clever as my brothers. Why, I’m so clever that if I were a judge, and too stupid to decide a case I heard, I’d look wise and come to some decision.”

“Taig,” said the judge, “I’ve decided that the field is yours.”

———————————————————————

The circle burst into gales of laughter. Devin grinned and sat back, tossing the stone back to Ilka.

“That was wonderful, Devin!”

“Good job with that one, lad!”

“I always said we Irish were the best with the stories.”

Devin felt his cheeks grow hot at the praise. Luckily, the last comment drew protests from the slaves who weren’t Irish. Ilka threw the stone to a muscular Scottish woman and challenged her to do better, and the focus was whisked off of Devin and onto a new story.

After they were finished, however, Ilka came up to him, wrapping her arm over his shoulder. “You’ve got a good voice for a storyteller, laddie,” she said quietly.

“Ilka-“

“I’m not fooling. When you started telling the tale, it was like magic. Your accent got thick, your voice got a wee bit deeper, and your words- they all sort of started rolling together. I couldna help but listen. It’s not the way you usually sound, Devin, and it was wonderful.”

Devin could feel the heat on his face. “I just mimicked all the storytellers I’ve heard.”

Ilka laughed, long and hearty, and shook her head. “No, that’s not it, I think. Maybe somewhat of that was borrowed from your Irish bards. But I think there was a little of Devin O’Cailleagh in there, too.”

———————————————————————

Read the previous part here!

Read the next part here!

[pepsi-writes]

chapter 2: THIS ISN'T A SELF-INSERT I SWEAR-

Hey guys! It’s me, Narrator (and Rewriter) here! Today we will be continuing with Chapter 2 of the a/b/o fic! Yes, you heard that right! Bet you didn’t expect to see either of us again, bitches!

“Shut the fuck up,” Rose scowled (new character!!!), “this story isn’t about you.”

“Do we really have to do this whole dog people thing, again?” groaned Quartz, turning around to face their little corner.

Yes. Yes we do. 💜

“Stop complaining,” said our favorite alpha / president / inkling / dog / person… Squid!! “You fucking omega bitch.”

Sunny was still lingering in the doorway. Her eyes flickered throughout the different items in the room, searching for something to be interested in. To be honest, Quartz arguing with Squid for the seventh time wasn’t that engaging. Or maybe she just ignored Quartz because they were from the Nether. We’ll never know ~ *dissolves*

“Ew, a beta,” - Squid had finally noticed her, but it seemed to not turn out as well as she expected - “Well, you’re actually okay, for a beta, but only because you know the truth about Nether people, like me.”

“Ohmygoodness!” Sunny squealed. “Another racist person like me!”

Quartz squinted to look at this booklet-type-thing (it’s a script?) a script.

“Asterisk, sobs, Asterisk,” they deadpanned. Rose looked over Quartz’s shoulder, also peering to look at Quartz’s script. “Are you doing this to be funny,” he hissed, crossing his arms, “or did you actually forget your lines?”

Haha, guys, (the narrator had silenced Rose with their magic writing powers), stop letting people know that this is scripted, hah :).

“Haha,” Sleepy the TV person laughed, as the narrator didn’t hold a knife to his back, “Yeah guys, this is totally a natural interaction!”

Anyways, guys, on this episode of ‘I’m fucking sleep-deprived help me’: we’re making y’all’ve to date each other!

Everyone had different expressions splatted across each of their faces, but they all had a general feeling of shock.

“You’re what?” a dumbfounded Quartz exclaimed.

Yeah, so anyway the both of us are going to stop being a character now so bye 💜

“What the fuck, narrator and rewriter,” Rose yelled, “you can’t just, abandon us in this shitty fucking plot like that!”

But he was too late, because we’re already gone bitch 💜

Addict shook their head, trying to keep sane and happy for the others. They knew exactly what Kyle and Pepsi would do if they stepped out of line. “This is fine,” they forcefully grinned. Wow, this was their first line, in this entire chapter!! Woah!!

“No the fuck it’s not,” seethed Quartz. “Also, aren’t I already in a canon relationship already?”

Squid glared at Quartz, arching feir back to look bigger and superior. “And this takes you off the dating table, how?” Fey turned feir head in disgust at the others. “I refuse to date any of you fucking omega ass piglin fuckers,” fey announced.

“Ohmahgawsh, you’re so right, alpha Squid, :3, :D, ;),” Sunny the fellow racist sighed.

“Yes, you get it,” - Squid gestured to a flustered Sunny - “you racist moth. But, I still don’t respect you, you fucking beta.”

Sleepy laughed in dominance (could computers laugh??? Or is that just a social construct?), “Yeah, get that beta’s ass,” he cheered.

“Indeed, Adrian, my fellow alpha. We’re sooo out of everybody’s league,” Squid boasted.

But, if you remember (which you obviously don’t), Sleepy is in fact not an alpha, but an 🥴😩😏 omega~

“I fucking hate it here,” Rose fumed. “Anyways, I’m leaving,” he said, picking up Quartz, and stomping out of the room, “and I’m taking this fucking nether person with me.”

Addict flinched at the door slamming. “Fuck. Those two are like, the main two people that I’m shipped with.”

Squid cocked feir head. “Aren’t we married?”

“We are, but nobody cares.”

Squid sighed in relief. “Good. Clearly, the fandom knows that you hate being with me,” fey read off the script. “Wait, what-” And that’s when Squid suddenly shut up.

“Colon, start, parenthesis,” the racist mot- I mean Sunny said. Oh, yeah, did we mention that everybody still dog people?

Anyway, yes, everybody’s still dog people or something.

Squid gazed around the room with an expression as blank as paper. “Ok, so we’re like, romantically pairing up or something. Isn’t that kind of creepy since we’re the characters of mostly minors-” Shushity shush do not say that. Squid shrugged in understanding. “Ok, narrator. By the way,” fey inquired, “What’s your rank in the a/b/o ranking system? Just so I can tell if I should respect you or not.”

Uhhhhh, fuck. Alpha, beta, omega, how did these things work anyways-

The narrator shoved Squid so that fey stumbled to the floor, then sprinted out of the room.

Squid stood up. “Rude,” fey frowned, dusting feirself off. Fey looked around the room once again. “Uhh. Sleepy! Sleepy, yeah.”

“Hey,” fey purred, leaning towards Sleepy. “Fellow alpha~”

Sleepy himself was confused. “Uh, hi?”

“Do you want to be in a ~romantic~ relationship, so that we can finish this dumb fucking story faster, 🥺,” said Squid, pointing feir fingers at each other.

“Haha, no ❤,” Sleepy replied, pushing Squid away.

Squid’s eyes widened in shock. “I thought I trusted you, fellow alpha!”

Sleepy shrugged. “Sounds like a you problem, to be honest.”

“Ugh,” Squid whined,” fine then! Then, uhhh,” fey looked around the room for the third time today. Fey grabbed an ecstatic Sunny by the arm. “There. I’m dating this racist beta moth or whatever, can I leave now?”

‘Fine,” the narrator groaned, opening the door that they had just fixed after Sunny kicked it open. Squid sauntered out, dragging Sunny behind.

And then there were two.

Sleepy yawned (how is he a computer at this point?) as they just stood there.

Addict broke the silence. “Uh, hey?”

“You know this is a really forced interaction,” Sleepy yelled at the narrator, “right?” The narrator stood in front of the door, bracing themself on it to keep anyone from leaving.

Sleepy rolled their eyes in mock understanding. “Hiii, Addict,” he deadpanned, glaring at the short-ass little ender dragon spawn with a fire in their eyes. “You know the only way to actually leave is to say that we’re dating, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t really feel like doing that right now, sooo,” Sleepy strolled towards the narrator and-

-----

“Hah, I disabled the door lock.”

“You fucking smashed it to pieces with your computer screen head.”

“Haha, yeah, looked cool, right?”

“No?”

“Cool, anyways,” Sleepy jabbed a thumb at the door behind them, “let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

“Uhh, okay, fine.” Addict grabbed his hand, letting them lead them to the door and drag them out.

-----

They both heard the door, that they were supposed to guard, open with a creak, followed by hurried walking. Oh fuck, weren’t they supposed to guard the door - oh fuck. Their boss was really going to have their asses on a silver plate by the time this was reported.

They laid on the floor, giving up all hope whatsoever, still in pain from getting ✨bonked✨.

Were they dead? Were they fine?

Find out next time on~

The gang a/b/o fic :)

[baywindowproductions]

Concept: Name Initials Pronouns

So...... I don't know if anyone besides me has thought of this concept before (if someone has already, please tell me who so I can give proper credit)..... But a little while back (in May of 2019), I decided to write down a list of neopronouns for anyone who wants to use one or more of the commonly-known sets (she/he/they) but replace the first letter of each with their initial.

I haven't seen anyone go to the trouble of writing this entire list before, so I will do that for you now (#23 is obviously already a standard set, though)

Note: Pronunciations of these pronouns will depend entirely on the standard set and the selected initial

Hope this helps you at least somewhat ☺️ Enjoy!

A(h)e/aer/aers/aerself

Ae/aim/ais/aimself

A(h)ey/aem/aeir(s)/aemself

B(h)e/ber/bers/berself

Be/bim/bis/bimself

B(h)ey/b(h)em/b(h)eir(s)/bemself

C(h)e/cer/cers/cerself

Ce/cim/cis/cimself

C(h)ey/c(h)em/c(h)eir(s)/cemself

D(h)e/der/ders/derself

De/dim/dis/dimself

D(h)ey/d(h)em/d(h)eir(s)/deirself

E(h)e/eer/eers/eerself

Ee/e(h)im/eis/eimself

Eey/eem)/eeir(s)/eemself

F(h)e/fer/fers/ferself

Fe/fim/fis/fimself

Fey/fem/feir(s)/femself

G(h)e/ger/gers/gerself

Ge/gim/gis/gimself

Gey/gem/geir(s)/geirself

H(h)e/her/hers/herself

He/him/his/himself

Hey/hem/heir(s)/hemself

I(h)e/ier/iers/ierself

Ie/iim/iis/iimself

Iey/iem/ieir(s)/iemself

J(h)e/jer/jers/jerself

Je/Jim/jis/jimself

Jey/jem/jeir(s)/jemself

K(h)e/ker/kers/kerself

Ke/kim/kis/kimself

Key/kem/keir(s)/kemself

L(h)e/ler/lers/lerself

Le/lim/lis/limself

Ley/lem/leir(s)/lemself

M(h)e/mer/mers/merself

Me/mim/mis/mimself

Mey/mem/meir(s)/meirself

N(h)e/ner/ners/nerself

Ne/Nim/nis/nimself

Ney/nem/neir(s)/nemself

O(h)e/oer/oers/oerself

Oe/oim/ois/oimself

Oey/oem/oeir(s)

P(h)e/per/pers/perself

Pe/pim/pis/pimself

Pey/pem/peir(s)/pemself

Q(h)e/qer/qers/qerself

Qe/qim/qis/qimself

Qey/qem/qeir(s)/qemself

R(h)e/rer/rers/rerself

Re/rim/ris/rimself

Rey/rem/reir(s)/remself

S(h)e/ser/sers/serself

Se/sim/sis/serself

Sey/sem/seir(s)/semself

T(h)e/ter/ters/terself

Te/tim/tis/timself

Tey/tem/teir(s)/temself

U(h)e/uer/uers/uerself

Ue/uim/ueir(s)/uimself

Uey/uem/ueir(s)/uemself

V(h)e/ver/vers/verself

Ve/vim/vis/vimself

Vey/vem/veir(s)/vemself

W(h)e/wer/wers/werself

We/wim/wis/wimself

Wey/wem/weir(s)/wemself

X(h)e/xer/xers/xerself

Xe/xim/xis/ximself

Xey/xem/xeir(s)/xemself

Y(h)e/yer/yers/yerself

Ye/yim/yis/yimself

Yey/yem/yeir(s)/yemself

Z(h)e/zer/zers/zerself

Ze/zim/zimself

Zey/zem/zeir(s)/zemself

If you like any of these pronouns and wanna use them (or know someone who might) - by all means, feel free to reblog this post! ☺️

And if you also want to add these versions of the established sets of neopronouns, go ahead and do so!!!!

[rxse-by-another-name]

Ah ah j’espère vraiment un snape POV qui commente le chaos de eliza au bal. Je sens journal Tom va se feire ignorer pendant quelques temps. J’adore vraiment ta daphné maman pile comme elle avait crier eliza en couinant et lui a directement fait un câlin . En fait dans ta fic Astoria a le béguin pour draco ?

Hello! I’ve not read any of the comments on my actual fic yet (I don’t want you to think I’m ignoring you) I was just so nervous to post this chapter that I’ve been avoiding looking at how it’s doing

As for your ask! I’m glad you enjoyed Eliza causing chaos at the ball and i’m very tempted to write a quick Snape pov and post it on here because I am easily entertained and your idea is so funny

And yep both Tom and Eliza are definitely going/are going to suffer the fall out of this chapter

[shreddedparchment]

Parallel Pt.02

Heartbroken

11/18/2018

Pairing: Steve x Reader          Word Count: 2,674

Masterpost          Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: I’m in that head space when these new stories are kinda writing themselves. Anyway, I hope you like this little chapter. I mean, I cried? So...yeah...As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Nervous is how you feel the entire flight from Australia to Norway.

When you land, it's dusk and the horizon burns red orange as the sky above slowly shifts from deep purple to an inky black.

The color of the coming night reminds you of your face. Your black eye is pretty terrible to look at and you keep getting stares as you exit the small airport.

The next stop is a boat.

You miss being able to fly places yourself. This time of year, when fall is turning to winter, Norway’s biting cold shocks your system. You miss the warm Australian atmosphere, but you keep Thor in mind. Getting back to him is all that matters.

So, you steel yourself against the inconveniences of having to take a cab to your boat and then ride a boat for an hour in cold waters to get to the Lofoten Islands.

A sharp knock on the glass of the front viewport startles you. The kind and excited Norwegian boat Captain points to the left.

“Se! Sølvbyen!” He smiles a toothy grin.

You follow the indicated direction and your jaw drops. Slowly you rise and move to stand in the doorway that leads out to the deck.

New Asgard, this New Asgard, even in the fading twilight shines like a beautiful polished silver jewel nestled on tall green and white cliffs.

This New Asgard is at least ten times larger than the New Asgard you spent time in with Thor. His palace rises high into the sky, reflecting the stars and moonlight making the whole city look like an enchanted fairyland.

So different. It's all so different. How can it all be so much better for everyone else and not you?

The city falls from view as the boat approaches the base of the cliff and docks at a large station. There are tons of people disembarking off of small boats like your own, but a larger ship brings streams of excited Norwegians and tourists, all of them following the dock up towards a beautiful wood and steel staircase that leads up to a smaller station with what looks like elevators.

You look at the captain with a quizzical brow, “Why are there so many people?”

“De er her for feiringen.” He says with a small laugh, thinking you stupid for not knowing.

You quickly sift through the Norwegian you know, trying to translate in your head as fast as possible. “Feiring? Celebration? What celebration?”

The captain laughs at you, thinking you’re joking and waves you off.

You slowly limp off of the boat, drawing your jacket up higher around your white tee. Jeans and a tee were a terrible choice for Norway.

“Lykke til.” The captain calls out to you and you watch him pull out and sail back into the night.

With no other choice than to move with the crowd, you slowly follow the flow of the bodies that laugh and joke. It’s such a babble of languages that you can’t pick out one from another.

The queue at the elevators is long but moves quickly. You wait only ten minutes before you shove your way onto one of the large glass boxes, reinforced with steel and wood. This New Asgard is definitely much more well off than the small humble one you'd enjoyed with Thor.

You move straight to the back of the box and turn, carefully using your arms to block people from jostling you. Your ribs, as you had suspected are indeed broken, fractured actually which is not as bad but they still fucking hurt.

Funnily enough, it feels reminiscent of your first injuries at Avengers compound when the Shadow had attacked looking for the serum and you’d spent the following week limping around with a cane for an injured leg, broken ribs, and small cuts.

It feels strange that you seem to have almost the exact same injuries even though this is a much different reality.

“I hope they have lots of food. I’m starving.”

“Are you kidding? A celebration of this size? I doubt they’ll run out of anything. These Asgardians are really generous.”

You peek over the shoulder of an older lady on your left and spot two girls, no older than sixteen or so, giggling excitedly.

“Do you think we'll get to see him?” The blonde girl asks.

“Thor?” Asks the brunette. “Duh, it's his celebration.”

Your heart begins to pound at the mention of your husband and you quickly push your way closer to the two girls. The offended older woman in front of you gasps and pushes back slightly making your ribs burn.

“Personally, I hope I get a look at Loki…he’s so hot.” The brunette confesses.

The blonde glares at her friend. “Ew, Lisa, after what he did to New York how can you even stand to look at that creep?”

“Hey, people change.”

“Excuse me.” You swallow hard, eager to get some info on Thor.

The two girls turn to look at you, slightly surprised, the blonde still frowning about her friend's love for Loki.

“You said this celebration is for Thor? What exactly are they celebrating?” You ask, a small uncertain smile plastered on your beaten face.

The two girls exchange a long look as if they cannot believe that anyone who is here would not know what the Asgardians are celebrating.

As the elevator doors open and people begin to file out the blonde turns her gaze back to you looking slightly crestfallen.

“Its for Thor's engagement. He’s going to marry the Lady Sif.” The blonde sighs sadly.

Her words freeze you, you’re not here, where are you? Numbness fills your chest and once again you have no beating heart. This can’t be happening.

As the girls leave you to your numbness you watch as the brunette rubs the blonde's shoulder comforting her friend at the tragic loss of her crush.

Almost as if you’re floating, you drift out of the elevator and trudge painfully through the crowd.

Asgardians are lined up along the road from the elevators to welcome the tourists, but you don’t give them a glance. You're too busy trying to keep your shit together. You force yourself to move faster along the beautiful cobble road. Trying to ignore the pain as you pass street vendors in old wooden and stone type stalls to fit the Asgardian aesthetic. Lanterns light up the streets and music plays from almost every building giving the city a laid back, party vibe.

Laughter floats around you in harsh contrast to the agony you slowly feel is beginning to consume you.

You continue to follow the flow of the crowd. Asgard is massive and there are so many people everywhere. Is this the glory that Thor had spoken of? Was this the might of Asgard?

Slowly you begin to recognize the twists of the streets as the ones you walked so long ago with Thor and the people of Asgard. You turn right and pass the smithy you'd first seen on your visit with Thor. Then the school and then the Tavern. The door swings open and raucous laughter floats out intermixed with music and the clinking of steins.

You turn your eyes to Thor's palace as it grows closer and the crowd begins to get thicker until finally, about a hundred yards from the front stairs that Thor had once presented you to his people on, you find yourself unable to get closer.

You strain against the mixture of Asgardians and tourists trying to get a little higher to see but you're saved the trouble as Thor moves up a few steps before he stops and offers his hand to someone below and out of sight.

The sight of him hits you like the sharp bite of a snake. Its piercing and sudden and painful. But he’s still so beautiful. His hair is still short, and his beard is thick. His blue eyes sparkle as he waits for the person he beckons.

That should be you. He should be reaching for you.

A milky white hand moves up from the base of the stairs, reaching for Thor. The hand is followed by the regal form of an Asgardian woman with dark brown hair that falls in cascading waves along her back. Her dress is silver, floor-length, and matches the silver embellishments of Thor's new armor. Hair her is pinned back with beautiful shining opal berets to keep it from falling in her face.

She definitely looks the part of Thor's betrothed, much more than you ever did. It hurts, and you reach up to clutch at the base of your chest.

For a moment you can’t breathe. “No.”

Your whisper draws the attention of an Asgardian woman who turns to glare at you.

Stupid Midgardian woman objecting to Thor's marriage to a true Asgardian? How dare you?

But that’s where you belong. She's in your spot!

Thor takes her hand and wraps it around his left elbow and leads her up to stand at the top of the stairs so that everyone can look on his future bride.

He raises a hand, and everyone goes silent. Although music and laughter continues to flow in from the city behind you, here by the palace, the silence is heavy.

“Thank you all for coming to help me celebrate the choosing of my bride.” He looks at Sif, staring at her with an affection that makes your heart clench. “I am not exaggerating when I say that I have been quite blind for hundreds of years to the clarity that my own mother often expressed. Perfection was before me and I did not see it.”

“Better late than never.” Sif jokes, squeezing his arm.

Thor beams at her and it kills you. This can’t be happening.

“I have often wondered if I would ever find a woman strong enough to rule Asgard at my side and I am glad to say that I have finally found her. Sif, my friend and counsel…my Blossom, I am very happy to present you tonight as the future Queen of Asgard.”

Blossom? Blossom? Did he just call her…you let your gaze fall away from them as your heart shatters to pieces. Grief begins to consume you as you succumb to the agony that you not only lost Thor, but this seals any hope of ever getting your baby girl back.

You shut your eyes and don’t even feel the tears as they fall. As the crowd cheers around you, you turn your gaze back onto Thor’s smiling face and watch him lean down towards Sif's cheek to press a soft kiss. She shuts her eyes, the utter happiness she exudes chokes you. That should be you.

As you watch him happily love his new betrothed, your mind is suddenly filled with his words, spoken on a rooftop in Wakanda what feels ages ago.

“My love, I’m sure that even if we use the watch there must be a way to hold on to what we have. This love between us does not just disappear. And we can make this baby again.”

You'd known then that it would be impossible. It was a fool’s hope. You’d wanted to believe that you and Thor could weather any storm. That even if the universe separated you that somehow, you and he would find your way back to each other. You'd feared this outcome. You’d dreaded it. You'd had nightmares about it and here it is in shocking reality. Thor doesn’t care for you anymore. He’s moved on. Your baby girl is nothing but a blip in your own memory and as you think about her, tiny and perfect, kicking you from within, your face crumbles.

Thor suddenly turns to look over the crowd and for a terrifying moment, you feel like his eyes find you. For two seconds he stares in your direction. Embarrassment and pain drive your gaze down.

You wait a moment then chance a glance back up at him and Sif but they’re no longer standing by the stairs. They’re moving into the palace as the crowd begins to disperse around you to join the many small celebrations going on throughout the city.

You’re left standing in the middle of the road, alone and without hope, crying because what else can you do? You pass your hands over your stomach and your pain is renewed stronger.

With a quivering lip you look back up towards the palace doors and consider going up there and knocking on the damn door.

But doing that would require you have some hope and you don't.

If Thor really did spot you in the crowd and if he did recognize you, then he either doesn’t remember your life together or he doesn’t care.

Six months. Six blissful months before he left, that was all this version of you had. Without the Snap he has no reason to seek you out, just as you feared.

Suddenly a stout Asian man wearing dark red robes steps into your view.

You look up at the body's face and find Wong's furrowed brow staring down at you from the top of the stairs.

There's something off about his gaze however and you see the spark of recognition in his eyes.

Already embarrassed, you have no desire to be seen at the moment and you have the terrible idea that Wong might take you up to meet with Thor and at this particular moment when you’re just beginning the mourning of the husband and daughter you’ve lost, it's tantamount to torture to see him.

You turn quickly and move to head back towards the elevators so that you can get the hell off of this island.

You only get a few feet, thanks to your stupid leg and ribs, when orange sparks startle you into stopping. The orange sparks grow out and wide until they’re a clearly defined circle.

Through this circle you can see a large room with a large staircase and a large glass wall with rooms beyond. The room is mostly made of dark woods and the occasional brass embellishments, but you can also see comfortable red chairs, tables, and decorations like vases and statues.

None of the Asgardians seem to be paying the portal any mind. A few of the tourists look over with curiosity but go back to their celebrating after staring for a bit.

“Vex? You should not be here.” The accented voice comes from behind you.

You turn to look at Wong as he moves towards you, his eyes kinder bit still narrowed in confusion.

You quickly reach up to wipe at your tears as he closes the distance between you and stops with his hands on his hips.

“What did you just call me? How do you know that name?” You demand, hating the way hearing your old pseudonym fills you with what you’d just abandoned, hope.

“I am a Master of the Mystic Arts. I would not forget you easily. I’m sorry to say that others were not so lucky.” He’s talking about Thor.

Your eyes water again as you struggle with your aching heart.

“Why did you come here?” He opens his arms as he shrugs, struggling to understand your motives.

“I-I didn’t know that he was engaged.” You admit and feel your sorrow double as you finally say it aloud.

Wong sighs. “Come on, this is not a place for you anymore.”

His words cut you and you sob as you look over his shoulder at the palace doors. Betrayal courses through your body even though you know that Thor isn’t deliberately abandoning you. He just doesn’t remember ever loving you as much as he did.

“Come.” Wong places his hand on your shoulder and helps turn you back towards the portal.

As you limp through it and the portal begins to close, you watch as the palace doors open and with curiosity twisting his expression, Thor moves back out, watching as you and Wong disappear.

@until-theend-oftheline @jessieray98 @dsakita @coldfacedwarf @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @myfandomlife-blog @wishingforahome @theonelittleone @aireka-frnc @oursameoldlove @wintersoldierswhore @keithseabrook27 @jewelofwinter @markusstraya @sincerelytlh @rumoured-whispers @thehatredofshipprick @the-surviving-revolutionist @fairislesheets @mannls @moonlessnight14 @pandazlazykid @donner5822