#This has just been kind of a vague thought floating around my head

[ladyminaofcamelot]

Thinking about how Cor, the boy who "was used to hard knocks," wound up with a brother who was famous for boxing, "and all their fights ended (if they didn't begin) with Cor getting knocked down." Just the idea that this abused child can go from being cuffed and kicked and bruised to realizing that some blows are affectionate. Some blows are playful. And, most importantly, he's allowed to hit back. Can you imagine the first time they get into it, and he realizes he can hit back? This slave boy finally has a right to defend himself, and he and his brother can fight and throw each other around because at the end of the day they are completely confident in their love for each other. If Cor gives Corin a bloody nose, they're still going to be friend by evening. It makes me emotional to think how for so long he had punishment, and now he gets affection and confidence in his position and a brother who he may fight with, but who will never EVER be genuinely trying to hurt him. I just think there's something important about that, about Cor feeling safe enough to fight with Corin even when he knows he's going to lose, because he knows it's not a punishment. It's not a beat down. It's a good clean honest argument, and both of them are going to walk away from it perfectly safe.

[nomazee]

silly silly

sebastian (sdv) x gn reader

word count: 2.1k

content: pining (mutual...), AGGRESSIVE pining, reader is smitten and in love, stream of conciousness/ramble type of writing, romantic tension (unresolved), cute and will maybe make ur stomach hurt from anxiety (i have my ways) (i’m lying)

notes: omg hey guys so i wasn’t lying about the stardew valley delusion and now i’m so deep in that i wrote this in a haze last night and posted it to my ao3 and now im posting it here. please enjoy. my heart and soul (my rotted brain) went into this it’s the beginning of my magnum opus 

part 1 (you are here) part 2 part 3

<><><><><>

You’re gonna kiss him silly. By the end of the night, you totally are.

It’s something you decided since before you showed up at this jellyfish-festival thing. You barely even know what it’s all about, really—the note from Demetrius didn't say much other than the fact that it was happening tonight, and you should come, and it’s beautiful and all the jellyfish are going south for the winter (like they’re a flock of birds, you think absurdly), and it’s down at the beach at 10pm. You weren’t exactly up to asking him more about it, seeing as it would be awkward to do that and then kiss his step-son on the mouth right in front of him that same night.

That was the plan. Kiss Sebastian on the mouth. It was going to happen and there was kind of nothing anyone could do to stop it (except Sebastian himself, reasonably). You’d like to think you’d gotten close enough to him to let this sort of thing happen. But then again, Sebastian is a special enigma, like a specter floating around on his own path, invisible to the things around him (or at least, trying to be invisible. He’s not invisible to you, never ever ever. You’re too painfully aware of him to let go of that).

Your mind is running with too many thoughts. It’s dark on the beach, and the wood of the dock creaks faintly beneath your feet as you approach where he stands with Sam and Abigail. Vaguely, you wonder how much they’d mind if you yanked Sebastian away from them to give him a kiss. A big fat whopping breath-stealing mind-turning stomach-aching kiss.

You’re going crazy. This whole thing is crazy. You say hi to the three of them and pretend like you’re not plotting this whole thing in your head. They seem none the wiser to your conflicts, and give you amicable greetings as you shift closer to where Sebastian is standing.

He almost blends in with the rest of the night, all black hair and black clothes, but the torches on the dock light him up just enough for you to see his skin and eyes and smile as he glances at you. You greet him, no smile on your part, but a sweet sort of look in your eyes that you hope he’ll catch onto soon. (You don’t think he does.)

He makes space for you to stand next to him, between some empty box and the odd warmth of his body. You take the offer. You’re standing, next to him, so close that you can almost smell the tea tree oil of his shampoo wafting off of him. You think you’re going crazy. You’re going crazy. You look at him, and he looks at you.

Sebastian has a serious look in his eyes, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned. “I thought I saw something moving in there… something big. Something dark.” You nearly nod along to whatever he’s saying from habit. There’s a second or two where you realize how absurd his words are, and he sees it in your face because he goes, “Just trying to scare you.”

Now he’s teasing you, a smile and a fun kind of glint in the way he does it. The thought crosses your mind to warn him, tell him that he shouldn’t play jokes with you like that because it might make you kiss him silly on this beach before the stupid jellyfish even get here. Then you wave the thought away, because really—that wouldn’t be the final straw. The final straw has been broken for days now. Even weeks. Maybe since the first day you spoke to him and he talked so incredulously about how you could’ve picked Pelican Town as a place to live, but you’d like to think you have more self control than to let a love-at-first-sight kind of deal happen like that.

“You’re funny,” you say back, and you hope it doesn’t sound too strangled. “I think I almost believed you.”

“Really? I didn't expect that. I thought you would’ve called my bluff.”

You could tell me anything and I would believe you, you want to tell him. You could tell me there’s a monster in the sea. You could tell me you made the sun and the stars and the moon and the clouds. You could tell me you’re a jellyfish. I would totally believe you.

You don't say any of that. Because that would be embarrassing. Sam says something, and then Abigail says something, and then Sebastian is turning himself around to talk to them now. Sam and Abigail are nice, and you’re close enough to them where if you joined into their conversation it wouldn’t be awkward or unwelcome.

But there’s something telling you to stay quiet. Anxiety, maybe, fear of saying something stupid and ruining every friendship you’ve made in this town. It’s a crazy hyperbolic thought but it’s enough to make you keep your mouth clamped shut. It’s fine. You listen and turn your head to them and nod along with whatever they say, something about the jellyfish being poisonous and how bad would it be if you reached your hand in and grabbed one, and—?

“It’s starting!” Someone says distantly, and your head snaps back to face the ocean just as lights glow from underneath and the forms of sea creatures illuminate themselves. It’s beautiful. It really, really is beautiful, and you think that you should’ve taken everyone’s word that this was a wonderful event, something you really shouldn’t miss out on, something gorgeous and unimaginable and isn’t it crazy we get to see this every year?

The glow pulses bright enough for you to see more of Sebastian’s face from beneath the darkness of the night. You glance to the side, slowly and subtly (or at least, you hope so). His eyes are bright, and just a little bit wider, and there’s a twitch of his mouth as if he’s holding back a smile. As if he would be embarrassed to let it show how much he likes seeing this.

He smiles, big this time, and it’s one of those downward smiles where the corners of his mouth are tucked in and his cheeks are flushed and you are going to kiss him. You are totally going to kiss him, right now, because now he’s looking at you and the smile still hasn’t left his face and you hope you’re not unsettling him by how you’re ignoring the jellyfish at this point just to stare at him.

Sebastian is not unsettled. At least, not outwardly. He’s staring back and it’s soft now. And his stupid smile is still there. It hasn’t moved, hasn’t changed the way that his gaze had, and you hope it’s not because he has the same affinity for you that he has for the jellyfish. You’d like to be more than the jellyfish, maybe.

You’d like to be more. A little more. And you think, just a little bit more time, and you could kiss him. You could kiss him tonight. You could.

You don’t. Your head turns back to the ocean and you’re shocked at the level of self control you just displayed. It’s almost unbelievable. This whole plan, this whole dream had been built up over weeks now and here you were, being patient. It’s uncharacteristic. You wonder. Wonder wonder wonder.

From beside you, Sebastian doesn't deflate, but there’s a moment of hesitation before he turns to face the same direction as you. Maybe he understands. Maybe he knows. You hope he doesn’t know. You hope this is your own secret to keep.

Minutes pass, and the ceremony ends. The rest of it is nothing short of incredible and wonderful and spectacular and every word you could possibly use to describe it. Your legs buzz from disuse as you push yourself to stand up. (You don’t notice Sebastian hesitating to stick a hand out for support before pulling it back to his side.)

“I like this place,” you say absentmindedly, and suddenly everyone is turned to you—not just Sebastian, but Abigail and Sam and maybe even Vincent from further up the dock. “This was really nice. Thank you all for letting me stay here.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t believe any of that just came out of your mouth. It was cheesy and sappy and insane. This night has rotted your mind so much it’s starting to ooze out of your mouth. You hate this town. You love it. You let them know.

“Of course, man!” Sam is exuberant, and he smiles at you. “I guess at first it was weird having someone new here, because no one new ever comes here. But you’re great. And you’ve done so much for all of us. Really.”

Abigail nods along, a firm gesture paired with this triumphant sort of smile that makes your chest warm. “Really. Like, yeah, maybe it sucked having my old hang-out place taken over by a stranger.” (Sam elbows her. She yelps indignantly.) “But you’ve kind of made it worth it. Thanks for everything, too.”

It’s sweet. It’s all so sweet it makes your teeth ache and your head ache and your stomach ache. You’re hit with a sudden need to go home, and it’s the first time you’ve really felt like you knew where home was. It’s weird. Your legs ache, now.

Your head is muffled. You think you nod to all of them and you hope the appreciation and care in your eyes is enough to make up for your stunted responses. People are packing up and going home. Sam and Abigail give some sort of look in your direction, not unkind, but unusual, and suddenly Sebastian is thanking you for the night and asking to walk you home. You want to kiss him. Kiss him. Hold his hand and kiss him and trace his palm and maybe throw him into the ocean with the possibly-poisonous jellyfish remnants.

It’s quiet as he walks you home. Faintly, you realize how out of character this is for him. But this whole night has been full of out-of-character things for you and him and everybody. This is so weird. You’re going crazy. You’re going to kiss him.

Or, you think, for sure, that you’ll kiss him even if it wasn’t in front of the docks or the jellyfish or his friends—you think, for sure, the rest of this night is going to be made up of you kissing him silly on your doorstep and then collapsing in your bed and moving back to the city in shame.

But. But but but. But. There is something. And you don’t know what it is. And you don’t know if he’d kiss you too, but maybe. But. But but but. You don’t.

You’re at your doorstep. You thank him. And now, you are both waiting expectantly at your door for something to happen. You need to make it happen. Now. You need to kiss him and you won’t move and your stomach is aching and you think maybe you have a shellfish allergy.

“I feel sick.” It’s not a lie, and you really are two steps away from throwing up on his shoes and you really, really don't want that to happen—if you throw up on his shoes, then you’ll never be able to kiss him, because every time you reach for him he’ll be struck by the memory of you splattering vomit all over his sneakers and then he’ll ask you politely to move back to Zuzu City and never look back. (You think this is accurate.)

“Get to bed,” he tells you, and you’re shocked to hear him speak after so long. “It’s been a long night.” He’s polite, he’s kind, he’s so so kind that it’s stabbing you in the chest and twisting around your insides and why couldn't you just kiss him like a normal person?!

Okay, you think you say. Okay okay okay. His brow is furrowed and his lips are downturned but not in that odd smiley way of his. He’s just worried, now, and you think you’re going to be sick, for real this time.

You don’t tell him goodnight, but the slam of the door in his face is probably enough of a signal. You’re embarrassed. You didn't even kiss him. You can’t even tell if this night is a success or not. Kitty walks across your feet and looks up at you as if she knows what kind of clusterfuck of a night you just had. What a little shit. You let her follow you to bed and sit on your chest while her deep breaths lull you to sleep.

You didn't kiss him. What a wreck. What a joke. You’ll kiss him tomorrow for sure. Kiss him silly.

[pedroshotwifey]

Trouble in Paradise (Part One)

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Of all the things you thought you might be doing on your summer break, falling in love with your father's best friend in Hawaii wasn't one of them.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing crazy yet! Some kind of maybe tension, pet names, talk of Joel knowing reader since she was small, reader has a dad, mom is not mentioned, yadayada

A/N: Hello my friends! I'm terribly sorry I've been away for so long. There have been a lot of...unsavory happenings lately. Want to say sorry in advance because I know this isn't my best writing, but i'm trying to get back into the groove of things. I'm hoping I'll be back to my scheduled programming (TTF, FB, answering requests) by the time this short series is done. Expecting it to be around 3-5 parts. Thank you so much for sticking with me <3

*******

You’ve been laying in your bed blasting your “chill” playlist through your earbuds since you got home from school around five. The last exhausting day of your freshman college year. Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Hozier, and the like have been floating lazily through your head as you watched the sun go down. 

After a long day, you’d hung your head off the foot of your bed, intent to bask in the golden glow of the evening in a baggy T and your underwear until your eyes shut for the night. You were almost asleep when you were interrupted by a sound that didn’t quite go with “Wicked Game”. 

You yank your earbuds out, sitting up on your bed. You don’t remember it getting so dark. Your cracked window allows the late summer breeze in to gently rustle the curtains framing it. Crickets and cicadas chirp loudly outside, creating a symphony to compliment the stars shining through the inky sky. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Your head swivels to look accusingly at your closed door. The name was shouted from the stairway. Definitely your dad.

You roll your eyes but get out of bed. The clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 8:02pm, so he’s probably calling you for dinner. You’ve told him before that it’s easier just to call your cell, but when has he ever listened? You pad to your door, crack it, and shout back. 

“Be down in a minute!”

Getting no response, you can only assume he heard you. You close your door back and pick up the polka-dotted pajama pants crumpled into a pile beside your bed. You tug them on through a yawn, almost tripping a few times before they’re on all the way. 

You check your mirror before heading down. You look sleepy, not like it really matters. Your door creeks as you push it open again and make your way down the stairs. The soft carpet laid in the middle of the hardwood keeping your steps quiet. It’s about halfway to the kitchen that you hear a second voice to your father’s. It sounds vaguely familiar, and your heart skips a beat. Surely it’s not—

You climb down a few more steps and stop in your tracks at the sight of Joel Miller sitting at your dinner table. You haven’t seen him since at least your high school graduation. You’d harbored a small crush on him then, but that had to have been nothing compared to whatever the hell you’re feeling now. Your entire body seems to glow with some mix of embarrassment and surprise. 

You really thought you’d gotten over this silly little crush. Then again, it’s hard to get over something like Joel Miller. High school boyfriends? Sure, no problem. But the classic DILF next door of a best friend your dad has isn’t so easy. He’s been a constant in your childhood, always kind and there for you even when your dad wasn’t. So, in other words, highly inappropriate for you to be so attached to. 

It’s easy to say the years have been kind to him. He’s a few years older than your father, so probably about mid-forties now. He’s started to gray, a fine amount of silver peppered into his mousy brown hair. That beard of his has taken the brunt of it, though. That beard you’ve imagined between your thighs so many times. 

His dark eyes seem to have become kinder thanks to the crow’s feet carefully etched into the corners. He’s wearing his signature T-shirt and worn jeans, his brown leather jacket and work boots likely disposed of near the front door. 

He smirks as his brown eyes fall on your disheveled form, halted on the bottom step. You, in contrast to the god-like figure he’s sporting, must look like an absolute mess. Despite that fact, he looks at you almost in a different way than he used to. More intensely. It makes you resist the urge to squirm. 

“Joel,” you finally manage to choke out. “Hi.” 

Smooth, you think. 

“Hey, trouble,” he returns, light amusement lacing his tone. It makes you nervous, like he’s clocked your little secret. 

He gets up from his seat, and you can tell he’s going for a hug. You shock yourself into action and take the few steps to reach him. He envelops you in his strong arms just like he used to, and you take the opportunity to breathe in his scent. Smokey pine, whiskey, and a hint of mint—just like you remember. 

You’re smiling like an idiot despite yourself as you pull away. Luckily, your dad makes an appearance before you say something embarrassing. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “You remember my buddy Joel, dontch’a?” 

Joel scoffs before you can answer. “‘Course she remembers me, Scott, known her since she was damn near in diapers.” 

Your dad rolls his eyes. “Well, just to ask,” he argues. 

You shake your head. Same banter between those two for as long as you can remember. They’ve been friends since your dad’s freshman highschool year, and Joel’s senior. Everyone who knows Joel and Scott considers them to be brothers as much as Joel and Tommy.

Cheeks heated, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up while they’re distracted. You shut the door and comb through your hair with your fingers, straighten your tank top, and wipe away the smudged mascara you didn’t care to wash off earlier. 

When you look half-decent, you wash your hands and walk back to the dining room, choosing to ignore the fact that you just tidied yourself for your dad’s best friend. Totally normal thing to do, right?

Joel is sitting back in the same spot as you found him the first time, your dad in the seat opposite of him. There are three bowls of spaghetti served, one in front of each man, and one beside Joel. You’re not going to complain about that. 

You slide into the seat next to him, flashing him a quick smile when he turns his head to acknowledge you. You swear his gaze lingers for a second, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. 

You look away and dig into your food, zoning out as Joel and your dad talk about work. Joel’s presence beside you fuels your daydreaming, his deep, drawling voice keeping it running. You wish so badly to lean into him, feel the comfort of his embrace. Maybe more. You wish, not for the first time, that he would look at you the way you looked at him. You wish he would—

You jolt when you hear your name in conversation, your spaghetti-filled fork halfway to your mouth. 

“No, I don’t think she’d mind at all, would’ya, honey?” 

Your dad looks expectantly at you. Your eyes dart between him and Joel. 

“Uh, sorry, what?” You ask, your cheeks heating for the second time tonight. 

“Helping Joel out. I know it’s been some years, but it’s just basic stuff. Plus, it’ll be in—” 

“Really, Scott, you don’t have to volunteer her if she don’t want to—” 

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I don’t mind at all.” 

In all honesty, you didn’t think your answer through. You have no idea what you just signed up for. Though, if it’s with Joel, it can’t be too bad. 

“No, really, sweetheart,” Joel interjects. “I wouldn’t wanna have a pretty ‘lil’ thing workin’ away on her summer vacation.”

You turn to look at him, flashing him your sweetest eyes. He called you pretty—you feel like you might explode. “I really don’t mind.” 

He waits for a moment before he clears his throat and turns back to your dad. “Alright then,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “We leave for Hawaii next Tuesday.” 

You just about choke on your dinner. Your dad laughs. 

“Told you, Joel, she doesn’t listen to a damn thing we say.” 

*****

Hawaii? For two weeks? With Joel? What do you even pack?

You stare at your suitcase, waiting for your closet to help you out and throw something in there. Should you bring sundresses or work clothes? Both, right? Probably both. Maybe more work clothes. You said you’d be helping, after all. But with what? 

God, you should have just paid attention to that damn conversation. 

It’s late Monday night, and you haven’t been able to pick up on enough over-the-phone conversation to get the gist of it. You need to stop being such a wuss and just ask. But that would mean calling Joel. Do you really want to call Joel? 

Well, yes, of course you do. But do you really want to sound awkward around Joel? No, no you don’t. And you know that’s exactly what would be happening over the phone with a man you’ve never talked over the phone with. 

You groan, flopping yourself onto your bed to stare at your ceiling and overthink. You don’t want to overpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you overpacked. But you also don’t want to underpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you underpacked, either. This really shouldn’t be that hard. You’re about to get back up, say screw it, and throw a mixture in there, when you hear a knock on your door. 

“Come in,” you call, unmoving.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says as he creeps in. “Just got off the phone with Joel.” 

You sit up at this. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, he figured you might want some advice on what to pack.” 

Oh thank God. 

“Said he’s gonna be puttin’ you to work, but to bring some pretty clothes if you want. There’s a pool at the place you’ll be workin’ at, and a beach nearby.” 

You nod along, thanking all that is holy that Joel had the idea to give you some input. 

Your dad eyes your empty suitcase and raises a brow in your direction. 

“He’ll be here around 4:00am, so be ready by then.” He looks back at you. “I love you, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get back.” 

He gives you a hug and closes your door. 

You take Joel’s advice and pack mostly for work—with a few pretty things just in case. 

*****

As expected, Joel’s truck is in your driveway at 4:00am on the dot. You’re in the passenger seat and headed for the airport by 4:03. 

The ride is less tense than you thought it would be, mostly because the two of you are so tired. You’re practically in a coma against the window, the dull classic country music playing quietly from the old truck’s speakers lulling you to sleep. Joel is in about the same mindset, the lazy drumming of his fingers against the wheel the only thing convincing you he’s still awake. 

Buildings pass in a dark blur, everything mushed together into one big half-dream. Joel’s scent fills the cab, sealing the state you’re in. You glance at the clock: 4:48. You blink, and it’s 5:20, the truck is stopped at the airport, and Joel is gently nudging you awake. You squint at him, the cab light rudely intruding, and you can just barely make out the faint smile on his lips. You have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him, but thankfully you’re conscious enough to not make a complete fool of yourself right now. 

“C’mon, darlin’, we got a plane to catch.” 

You nod, trying to get your bearings. Joel slides out of his side of the truck, and you follow out of yours, getting a good stretch in before leaning back into the cab and retrieving your suitcase from the narrow backseat. When you make your way around the truck to Joel, he gently grabs it from your hand. 

You look at him, mouth open and ready to argue, but he gives you a look that makes you shut it just as quick. Your stomach flutters at the gesture, and you kind of want to slap him for it. Or maybe yourself. Either way, you keep close to him until you’re entering through the sliding doors out front. 

It only takes about an hour to get through TSA and in line to board the plane, but you’re wide awake by then. And hungry. 

“Hey Joel,” you whisper. He hums at you but doesn’t look down. 

“I’m hungry.” 

Now he looks at you. “I don’t think we got time to grab anything now, darlin’, but we should have a layover at LAX in about three hours. Think you can hold tight ‘till then?” 

You nod, trying not to overthink the conversation. It was literally a few words exchanged between the two of you, but it might be the first time you’ve conversed alone outside of your dad’s house. It felt domestic to you in a way that makes you feel like an idiot. It was one conversation. 

Of course, you have to ruin the moment by humming “Party in the USA”. I mean, it’s Joel’s fault. He was the one to mention LAX. 

He laughs and nudges you. “Quit that,” he commands, though you can tell he thinks it’s funny. You giggle but indulge him. 

“Fine,” you draw out. “Somebody hates fun.” 

He scoffs another laugh, but says nothing. 

Finally, the two of you are next to board. You stop around the middle of the plane, and Joel hoists your bags into the compartment above your seats. Then, he moves aside to let you in first. 

“By the window, darlin’,” he says.

You smile with excitement and settle in, Joel sitting next to you a second later. 

“Your dad said somethin’ about it bein’ your first time flyin’, so I figured you might want a window seat,” he explains. 

Your heart warms at this. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say genuinely, flashing him a smile. It may be the lighting, but you swear you see his cheeks pink up just a little before he nods and faces forward. 

The flight goes by relatively quickly. Joel does some sort of paperwork on the little desk in front of him, and you pop your earbuds in and listen to a downloaded playlist while you read. The light romance you chose was cute, but it failed to distract you completely from the hunk of man beside you. 

You’re not sure how many times you caught yourself staring at the flex of his wrist as he wrote whatever down. It was maybe once or twice that your eyes found their way up to his bicep, possibly a few times that they landed on his lower lip, his teeth bitten into it in concentration. You definitely got heated more times than you would’ve liked. And as your book started heating as well, you had to put it down. You really hope it’s not just you that feels this new tension.

For the last twenty minutes or so, you’ve been looking out the window, content to listen to your music and watch the land go by. For the last five, you’ve felt Joel’s eyes on you. You refuse to look back at him, though, just in case it’s your imagination. 

But you swear you can feel the weight of his stare. You fidget, trying to ignore the feeling as you stare out the window and at the clouds. Then you hear a sharp sound from the speakers 

through your earbuds. 

You take them off and look back at Joel as the pilot informs you that you should be landing in about ten minutes. 

He was staring at you, and he didn’t look away. You don’t look away now, either. You don’t say anything.

“Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’.” 

You’re taken aback. Of course you would go with him. 

“It’s no problem, Joel,” you say. He gives you a short smile. “I mean, really,” you joke. “You’re the one taking me on a free vacation.” 

He smiles fully this time and rolls his eyes. He tends to do that a lot with you. It makes you smile too. 

The speaker dings again:

“Should be some light turbulence, but we’ll be on the ground soon, folks.” 

Joel looks away after the announcement, gathering his work to put back into his bag. You shake yourself off and choose not to acknowledge whatever the hell that was. 

******

You knew LAX would be busy, but. Holy shit. This place is insane. 

You keep close to Joel as he navigates the two of you through the crowds and to your next gate. He keeps slightly in front of you, and you keep getting the urge to grab his hand to keep up, but you don’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many people in one place—and you thought the Austin airport had been overwhelming. 

There are a million shops and restaurants and gates as you make your way down the massive hallways, up and down the escalators, and through trains. It takes an hour and fifteen before you can even see the sign for your gate. Your legs hurt from walking, and your head hurts from all the noise. 

You keep an eye on some of the closer restaurants you pass so that you can backtrack to them and grab a bagel or something before you have to get on your plane. You catch a glimpse of a Burger King when you’re suddenly slammed into. 

You gasp as you’re sent flying onto your ass by a man who couldn’t be bothered to glance your way to see if you’re alright. Joel whips around and sets the bags down, quickly helping you up. 

“Shit, are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, a deep concern in his eyes. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment even though it wasn’t your fault. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Joel looks you up and down to make sure as you stand on your own two feet. He turns around, trying to scope out the man who bumped into you, and turns back when he finds that he’s long gone. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he finally says. “People don’t give a rat’s ass here.” 

You nod, smiling at his choice of words. “I’m alright, Joel.” 

He sighs and picks his bag back up, slinging the large weight over his shoulder, and then picks your suitcase up in one hand. WIth the other, he grabs onto yours. His hand is rough but warm and comforting. 

“Just stay close ‘till we get to the gate.”

Practically glowing, you hold onto him and let him lead the way. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s telling you to sit down at the waiting area. 

“I’m gonna grab you somethin’ to eat, ‘nd I’ll be right back.” 

You decide to read while he’s on his errand, picking your book back up to a particularly smutty part. You’re not going to pretend like you aren’t picturing the characters as you and Joel as he eats her out on a countertop. You bite your lip, consuming each word with fervor.

You’re just finishing the chapter when Joel strolls up with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee, and an orange juice. He hands you a sandwich and the latter drink, and takes the seat next to you with a groan. 

“Probably have at least thirty minutes,” he grumbles. 

You nod as you thank him and unwrap your sandwich. It’s silent for a few minutes, before you can’t bear it and break the peace. 

“What all are we going to be doing?” 

Joel looks at you, almost flustered. He must have misheard you. “Huh?” 

“Like when we get there, what are we going to be working on?” 

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee. “Mostly flooring ‘nd some drywall, but there should be somethin’ to do in the kitchen if I’m hearin’ right.” 

You nod and take a bite of your sandwich. Joel continues. 

“Should have a few days to relax, though, if we get everythin’ done in time.” 

Your stomach flips at the thought. A few days to relax with Joel. 

“Sounds easy enough,” you say. 

Joel nods again. “Atta girl.”

“Flight 332 is ready to begin boarding.” 

You and Joel take the last bites of your sandwich in silence and stand up to get in line once again. This flight is going to be longer, about six hours. 

Joel throws your trash away and comes back to grab your bags. Same as last time, you have a seat by the window. Not like it matters much in the long run, because just after Joel takes his seat and the plane takes off, your head falls onto his shoulder, and you promptly fall asleep. 

******

Thank you for reading!! Part two should be coming soon.

Itty bitty mini taglist: @callachloe @kewwrites @casa-boiardi @pastawench (love you guys)

Pls let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt. 2!

[dreamingcricket]

Hi Cricket! I soaked up your Tav/Halsin snippet, about them being injured and shrugging off Halsin's advances, it's absolutely sweet! I kindly request another Tav/Halsin if you don't mind... My Tav is a naive little sunshine and as a tiefling bard loves to dance, sing along and play on her fiddle, I imagine her having skirts that flow around her feet whenever she danced and plays around camp or inn's for some coin. Halsin being in love with Tav and like totally unable to hide it and it's obvious to everyone but Tav themselves. I would love for him to join her dancing, maybe something slower, more intimate with meaningful touches. He loves seeing her so at ease in rare moments like this, even when he's a clumsy dancer. 🤭

I'm so happy people are enjoying these!

Halsin was unused to revelry. 

He couldn't speak for every druid, of course, their kind ranged far and wide in both calling and temperament, but the Emerald Grove was prone only to subdued rites. He certainly couldn't fault the refugees for wanting to release some tension, however, and he wanted to show his appreciation to the small band that had saved him and his grove alike. Her, especially. 

And of course she was at the center of it all.

She reminded him of a celestial center, the hub of a wheel around which everything else turned. She glowed in the firelight, all orange and gold and purple, skirts flying as she fiddled. Music seemed to follow her everywhere. She danced like water, one pattern to the next without pause. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“You’re staring.” Shadowheart was difficult to read, as she appeared behind him, goblet in hand. He couldn't tell if her observation was meant to be an admonishment or not.

“I know.” He was usually reserved, if not stoic, and his developing feelings bubbling to quickly to the surface was alarming, but it would do no good to deny it.

"We all know. You're not subtle, Halsin." 

His attention was drawn back to Tav as she laughed. The sound was like the sun on his face.

Shadowheart followed his gaze. “Nobody blames you, Halsin. But she should know.”

“I don’t want to rush her.”

“Under any other circumstances, I’d agree. But we’re running out of time, and…” She shakes her head, clearing the morbid thought. “Just… everyone knows.

She finishes her number with a bow, and yields the stage to Alfira, who begins to pluck a lively tune. Her eyes lock onto Halsin’s and she bounds over, holding out her hands.

“Come, dance with me?”

He could feel the eyes of the camp upon him. Knowing. Halsin coughed. “I’m not much of a dancer. I may trample your feet.”

“That doesn't matter!” She giggled, and leaned in conspiratorially. “Everyone’s too drunk to notice anyway.”

Suddenly, she was pulling on his hand, tugging him to the wide patch of dirt that served as a dancing circle in the middle of camp. His heart hammered against his ribs, and it wasnt from embarrassment. 

He could vaguely recollect the steps, some hazy memories of his youth floated back to him as they began to whirl. A tavern dance, not refined in the slightest, but light and fast, more momentum than intent. While there was something to be said for his particular brand of ursine grace, it didn't lend well to dancing, and he let her lead. Her hands were so small in his, and she flitted around him, almost birdlike. 

“You’ll have to slow down, Tav, I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

She giggled, twirling under his arm. “I think you’re a fine dancer.” 

“The wine has apparently gone to your head, as well.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe it's just good company.”

The music slowed, and their pace changed. They circled each other, hand in hand. She held his gaze, not defiantly, but with tender trust. He hoped beyond hope he wasn't reading too far into her gaze. 

There was an ease to her here he hadn't seen before. The weight she carried throughout the battle at the goblin camp (and how fierce she had been, she had torn through their ranks like a diving hawk) had seemingly lifted. She wasn't a warrior, her hands were gentle as they gripped his, and so small. He loved her already, but even more so like this, when she was unburdened.

He wondered if this was what she was usually like, sans tadpole. There’s a terrible pang in his chest at the thought: that her days were numbered, that she might be doomed. It's quickly followed by a wash of righteous fury. It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. 

She stepped in close. Their palms pressed together, chests nearly touching, and he nearly stopped breathing. She was so close, if he only leaned down, their lips would touch. He was halfway to her, his rational brain screaming to stop and his instincts screaming to kiss her until she couldn't breathe.

And then she pulled away, dropping into a curtsy. The song was over. 

There was already a  buzzing flock of people vying for her attention. Halsin released her hand and bowed out of the center of camp, excusing himself as she leaped onto a rock to begin a new number. 

It had been a long, long time since anyone had made him feel this way. 

He rolled into the grass, reveling in the coolness against his heated skin, and prepared to trance. 

Halsin smelled her before he saw her. Lilac and honeysuckle and musk, and the scent of the open road. She moved to lay beside him in the grass, and whispered, "Can I join you? Everyone is quite drunk, Karlach is sleeping in my tent for some reason, and I’m getting really tired."

"Of course."

He didn't expect her to nestle into his side, his heart began to hammer in his chest, his skin became hot. 

She gazed upwards, and pointed into the sky, at a smattering of stars. "That's the huntsman." Her hand drops back down. "At least I think it is. We didn't have much time for stargazing at home, and the city lights are so bright. But here? I feel I can see every single one."

Halsin pointed upward himself, “The… spine of the dragon? I realize… I don’t know exactly how to say it in common, that’s as close as I can get.”

She hummed. “I can see it. With the wings, there.” She gestured lazily, and he became aware of how close she was for the second time that night. He was less intimidated by his own feelings here, without the watchful eyes of the party, and only the music of night time insects, the grass rising around them like a shelter. She turned her face toward him, blinking slowly, and clearly holding back a yawn. “I think… I’ll just sleep here.”

“That’s fine by me.”

The rhythm of her breathing slows and evens out, and he brushes a stray lock of hair away from her cheek, running his thumb over the apple of her cheek. 

Tomorrow, she would take up her burdens again. She would brave her future with the noble ferocity he had come to admire, he was sure, but he would miss this carefree night. 

Whatever it took, he’d ensure she had many more to come.

[ok-boomerang]

6 for Zutara please!

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Zuko was feeling good. Really good. Like float-in-the-sky, firecracker-bursting good. He’d been with his friends, whom he loved, and he wasn’t ashamed of loving them, and they loved him back, which was sometimes kinda wild to think about. Because, and this was so funny, it made him laugh sometimes—he once tried to capture them, he was once chasing them around the world. So funny.

In fact, he was laughing right now about it, leaning against the wall of a hallway in the Fire Palace on his way to his bedroom. It was late and no one else was around, just his soft chuckles echoing back at him.

His friends were going back to their rooms too—they were so funny, Sokka was so funny and Suki was so cool. And Aang was so nice and Toph was kind of a jerk. And Katara was so smart and pretty and funny and sometimes he just liked looking at her face. Agni, his friends were great.

After they all had gotten too tired to keep hanging out, Sokka wanted to make sure Zuko could make it back to his room okay, because he was nice and he cared. Sokka was all, “Bro, are you good?” and then he laughed a lot and took a deep breath to compose himself, and then kept giggling.

“I am so good,” Zuko had replied, and then he was giggling too. Because not only was he good, it was so easy to be good! He was not, actually, bad at being good.

Zuko pushes through the door to his bedroom and sighs upon entering, suddenly very tired. He shrugs out of his tunic and trousers but is too tired to put on pajamas. He can’t remember where he keeps his pajamas anyway. He snorts a little at the thought of sleeping naked, but it was his right, because he was feeling so. good.

They’d had some alcohol tonight, so much plum wine, it just kept flowing, and maybe some other stuff too that he can’t quite remember. Pipeweed maybe? But even if so, that’s not why he feels good; it’s his friends and his home and being a human firecracker. All those things are so good.

He shimmies under the sheets, which feel nice on his bare skin and also smell really good, kind of like fire lilies after a summer storm. His mother grew fire lilies in her garden. His mom would have liked his friends.

Zuko vaguely hears a door creak open, and footsteps glide toward him. Which is weird. But not unwelcome. Because he loves people so much. He loves the whole world. He is really tired.

The person who owns the footsteps shimmies themselves into bed, and Zuko vaguely wonders if he has a roommate and he simply forgot.

The person sighs, a tired sound, and he recognizes it as a sound belonging to Katara.

Katara’s here! He loves Katara. What a good friend. It’s too bad it’s dark, because he loves looking at her face. But he’s pretty tired anyway.

“G’night Katara,” he says, sleep in his voice.

“G’night Zuko,” she answers. “You were really funny tonight,” she adds, and her words slur together a bit for some reason.

“You were funny tonight!” he says, shifting toward her.

“Noooo, not like you,” she says, scooting closer as she hiccups. “Remember when—you chased us?”

Zuko laughs, loud and free, and Katara’s joining him soon after.

It’s not a minute later that they’re both snoring.

—

The next morning, Zuko wakes with the sun.

He feels the fire in his chest begin to simmer, to rise as the star in the sky rises. He feels his breath, notices his breathing, a meditation practice he likes to keep. He feels—a pounding headache on the left side of his head. And also the right side. And also—something soft against his backside—his bare backside.

Zuko blinks away, blinks into the ray of sun cascading across his bed.

That is not the only thing cascading across his bed.

There is also dark, wavy, and long, impossibly long, hair, seemingly all around him.

He is blanketed by Katara’s hair.

Which means—

Zuko blinks when he realizes the softness on his bare butt is Katara’s bare butt.

He is in bed, butt to butt with Katara.

“Um, Katara—“ he tries, but she doesn’t respond, her face so peaceful in sleep.

He sits up just a little and pushes one of her shoulders.

Her eyes blink bearily open. “Zuko, let me sleep,” she says, before closing her eyes again. “Damn firebender,” she says under her breath with a small smirk.

Zuko waits a beat.

And then Katara’s eyes open again and slowly move over to him. “Zuko?” she asks.

“I’m not sure—“ he starts, but Katara doesn’t wait for him to finish. She scrambles backwards, grabbing the blanket covering them, and frantically pushes out of the bed to cover herself with it.

It is at this point Zuko realizes that Katara is—was—buck naked. And so is he. Unfortunately, Katara just pulled the blanket off him.

So he is buck naked, and completely exposed to the world.

He fumbles with a pillow to cover his bits as he yelps “Why are you naked in my bed?!” just as Katara yells, “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?!”

They stare at each other, Katara having already expertly fashioned a dress with the blanket and Zuko still only shielding his privates with a pillow.

“Your bed?” Zuko asks while Katara nods vigorously. “This is the Crown Prince’s bedroom! Look,” he says, pointing to a portrait of himself on the wall. Which was kinda weird actually. Strange art choice by the designers, a portrait of himself in his own room.

“You’d hang a portrait of yourself in your room?” Katara asks, smirking, panic forgotten.

“It wasn’t my design choice! It’s just my room!” he says.

“Zuko,” Katara says with the air of someone saying I told you so. Which isn’t a good sign, because Katara loves being right. “You aren’t the Crown Prince—that’s not a portrait of the Crown Prince.”

Zuko frowns at her, because that’s kind of uncharacteristically mean. One banishment and you’re suddenly not even good enough for your birthright…

“You are a naked Fire Lord!” Katara shouts, before throwing her own pillow at him.

Oh. Shit.

He was Fire Lord, wasn’t he?

He stumbles out of bed to try to dodge the onslaught of pillows as Katara continues to pummel him—why are there so many pillows? His pillow shield has long fallen away. She’s just abusing a naked Fire Lord now!

“I’m—sorry!” he says, but Katara’s laughing maniacally and clutching her stomach in mirth as she finally shoves him into the hallway and slams the door.

And then he hears her lock it.

Well, he did say she was funny.

He turns to four pairs of eyes staring in his direction.

There’s a good five seconds of silence, and Zuko notes that everyone except Toph has now seen him naked. But judging by her smirk, she can sense his nakedness.

It’s good that he’s worked on his self-esteem.

“Do we want to know?” Suki finally asks, breaking the silence.

Zuko shakes his head.

Sokka wordlessly hands him his cloak.

And Zuko covers his bits again, and runs down the hall toward the Fire Lord Suite.

[some-pers0n]

yyyuo shooullg tell me about Paramic,,, /nf

Ah, perfect! I get to unleash my autism ramble upon you related to my freaky weird god animus OC who is trapped in a paradoxical timeloop of their own creation with no clear explanation for the existence of the catalyst!

Okay so ramble under the cut annnddd here we go

So Paramic is a HiveWing-IceWing hybrid who hatched like 30 years post Pantala arc. The silk bridge between the two continents has been built and dragons regularly mingle between them. Paramic's parents lived in Sanctuary, which has become renowned for having an academy that's fairly prestigious, as much as the ones on Pantala.

Paramic wasn't born looking the way they do now. In fact, they were a pretty normal average dragon. They showed a deep appreciation and love for the humanities (dragonities?) as well as science, mainly anthropology, archeology, and some physics. They had a close friend group that followed with them as they went to Sanctuary Academy for further education

So Paramic believes themselves to be a good person all around. They're kind, considerate, and generally take a ton of thought into considering whether or not their actions will hurt anyone. They're outgoing, and while they do like spending time by themselves, they like their friends and spending time with them. They have a streak of pride and a bit of a savior complex but that's fineee they'll be fineeeee

In their fifth year of learning, they were out on an excursion when Paramic found these black claw caps nearby a riverbed. Completely and utterly black. It was as though it was an absence of light rather than a colour. Obviously animus-touched and Paramic took on the task of bringing it home and studying it, as it didn't appear to be dangerous and they have handled animus-touched objects before. Not to mention this...odd feeling that Paramic felt about it. Drawn to it rather than repulsed like any other animus-touched object. Though, they chalked it up to being a result from whatever enchantment was placed on it

As Paramic worked, they couldn't find a particular date for the claws. With their technology, they were usually able to trace back data to at least a vague estimate. Here? Nothing. The surface was smooth. It didn't feel like a material that Paramic had worked with before. It wasn't a polished gemstone nor a piece of refined metal. It was strange to say the least

After some time of dwelling over the claw caps, curiosity got the best of Paramic and they decided to put them on. They had experimented already with seeing what would happen with putting them on random animals and even their model of a skeleton all to no avail. Doesn't seem to be sealing to them nor inflicting them with some disease. So, that evening, Paramic sealed their fate by putting them on

...nothing happened. No grand change it appears. However, when Paramic decided to test them out by swiping at the air, they hit something

A tear. Their claws had grazed against what felt like a thin piece of fabric. It couldn't be something. In front of them was simply nothing. And yet, there, floating in their small hut in the woods, was a tear in reality; and Paramic got a glimpse of what was on the other side just before it began to seal up once more. It was of a river, isolated by forests and surrounded by a wide mountain range

Within a minute, it was as though the tear had never existed

...Paramic took the claw caps off. They were afraid, though incredibly curious. What was that? What does this mean? Should they tell anyone? Ideas swirled around in their mind, each one pulling them in another direction, before eventually they put them away for a day or two, scared, yet desperate to discover what was on the other side

Eventually Paramic got the nerve to explore. They gathered some supplies, namely food and equipment in order to build a shelter if needed, and headed off. They left a note behind for their friends, saying that they're heading off and, by the next time they see them, Paramic would have discovered something that will shake the foundation of the world as they know it

Turns out that the tear in the fabric of reality was quite literal! As Paramic passed through the horizon, they realized that this world was very much like their own one. Their place of origin

Paramic would go onto exploring this one, realizing that they had ended up in a parallel universe in which Pantala had still not been discovered yet. It...netted them some pretty weird looks as well as interrogation, which they then got backed into a corner over and escaped via swiping at the air and jumping through the tear when they had a moment to breathe

This cycle repeated, with Paramic finding new parallel world after parallel world, marking them down in a journal they had brought with them. It was fascinating! Seeing all of these locations and writing them down

The one constant among them all was the way Paramic would come into them. It was always the river. They would hop through the tear and see that stream. Sometimes it was dried up. Sometimes the forests were leveled and burned. However, it was always that riverbed they would find themselves on whenever they jumped to new realities

.......problem was: how does Paramic get home now? Well, after what felt like months of jumping from world to world, they found a rather interesting one! A world where animus dragons are plentiful. In this one, animus magic was offered to those who were deemed good dragons and there were plenty of laws put in place as to regulate and manage it

Paramic was asked whether they were a good dragon or not. They said yes, as they were a lowly researcher simply lost between worlds and feeling homesick. Paramic said that, once they returned, they would bring back the information they had gathered as to bring about great technology shifts and changes for the betterment of dragonkind. They believed that having animus magic would allow them to not only make it back home significantly easier, but to also

They were granted the abilities of animus magic. Able to bend reality even more to their will and warp it to their desires

But Paramic was thankful! They tipped their head and went on their merry way. They bounced around from more realities as time went on, mainly just experimenting with their magic

...however, as time went on, Paramic began to miss their original world less. They were captivated by the realities that existed in the multiverse and got quickly addicted to making notes and drawing diagrams that only existed for themselves. "I'll go back soon," they kept telling themselves. "This is all for my home reality. To benefit it. To protect it."

The more and more that Paramic explored, the more they encountered worlds that were indistinct from others. They jotted down countless timeline shifts and changes, but a lot of the time they'd find some that were ultimately indistinguishable from another one. It got a little boring over time

Which is when Paramic asked themselves a question: what would happen if they wanted to experiment with this world? Throw a small wrench into the timeline. Create something inexplicable. Review the results

This time, this was for protection for their home reality. Animus dragons are dangerous! Paramic had encountered many realities in which animus dragons had an iron grip over the world. Perhaps in these ones, Paramic could help them out? Find a loophole and dismantle it. Overpower the head animus and bring peace. That would help others. They're a good person, after all

These little stunts became more and more common as Paramic began wondering what would happen if they had disrupted the timeline in such a way. As they did it more and more though, they encountered one reality that made Paramic's stomach drop

This was a reality that was tempered with in a way that Paramic didn't see themself doing. That's when Paramic realized that there must have been other Paramics like them, hopping between worlds and doing all sorts of things. There had to be

...but those Paramics weren't from their origin reality. The real reality amongst the sea of other ones. A strike of paranoia and fear surged through them, and in a moment of desperation, they enchanted themselves to be the only Paramic across every possible reality

They didn't know if this worked. Yet, it wasn't until they had visited a new reality when they noticed something...odd. The claw caps had stuck to their actual claws. No longer could Paramic take them off. Paramic tried to enchant them to come loose, but to no avail. These things were inexplicably immune to any and all enchantments

Paramic kept going more and more. Rather than writing down the changes in the timeline when Paramic got there, they began writing down the results of whatever Paramic did as a little experiment. It became less of saving dragons from bad realities and rather trying to see what could possibly happen had an animus tried doing whatever they did. It became a loop eventually, with Paramic hopping from one reality to another and just simply messing with it for the sake of seeing what happens

"It's for the original reality," they kept telling themselves on the sleepness nights. "It'll be okay. You're still a good dragon. Good dragons don't hurt others without a reason."

Paramic at this point began repeating that "I'm a good person" mentality to keep themselves afloat and ignore the dread and feelings of guilt over this. They weren't trying to hurt others! They're just...looking to see what happens when an animus does this. It was to help their original reality. It was to help the real reality, amongst this ocean of lesser ones

Paramic began to see the parallel versions of dragons less as cognizant beings and rather more, well, NPC-like. Their reactions became predictable and repetitive. They tried telling themselves that, no, they didn't fully believe in that...but yeah no they were beginning to go down this route

Worse yet, you remember the black claw caps that became fused to their claws? The darkness spread. With each reality that Paramic visited and began to destroy by now, the texture-less black spread from the claws. It went along the forearm and came to the wings. It even began in other places, with black spots forming on their scales and spreading like an infection. Bits and pieces of them would flake off too, only to hover and float around them. White lines and sigils of indeterminate origin and meaning as well began to appear, glowing faintly and keeping them awake during the night

It became clear to Paramic that the darkness was like a piece of unreality. The opposite of existence. Slowly, bit by bit, Paramic was succumbing to this. Less of a dragon and more of a force in the multiverse that marked only doom and suffering

...but they're a good dragon still, right?? They're a good dragon! They have to be. They are. A bad dragon would wipe out all of these worlds for the sake of their own pleasure. Paramic? Paramic cared about these dragons! Kinda. Well, at least enough to not inflict dangerous plagues on every one. They're more like a...a bringer of change, yes! Good or bad. It's all for research anyways

That's when Paramic noticed that they had yet to return to their original reality yet. It felt like countless millenia to them of wandering. How much would the real world shift?

Once they decided to go back, if only just to update their peers. In the real world, only a couple months had passed. When Paramic had returned, they were but a husk of the bright-eyed, bubbly and fun friend that they once knew. Paramic was a dragon who spent so long without having a real conversation. During that brief visit, they were inconsiderate, often talking over the other and interrupting them. They'd talk to themselves and try and think things through verbally

It wasn't until Paramic had told their friends, their real friends, about what happened when they began to get angry and scared. Paramic was confused. How could they react this way? After everything they did?? All of this research and the only thing they get from it is "you killed countless lives"???

Paramic thought about disposing of them. It was an urge they had felt before and would act on impulsively. Whenever there was trouble, they'd do away with them quickly

The only reason that Paramic didn't go through was their own horror at realizing that, subconsciously at least, they did not consider what they thought to be the real version of their friends to be important. They were subjects. They were designed to be tested upon

Paramic left that reality and never returned out of shame and terror at the implications

The cycle continued more and more, with Paramic breaking apart. Dragons would soon begin to run from them, finding them to be a monster than a dragon. A beast that trudged through realities and only brought great change, usually in the worst of ways

It all continues until, eventually, Paramic is essentially almost entirely formless. Most universes are gone by now, having been erased from existence due to Paramic's meddling. Yada yada esoteric reality falling apart stuff happens and eventually it's only Paramic and the riverbed. Everything else is gone. The multiverse will go quiet once and for all

Paramic looks down at the remaining bits of their claws. They hover without meaning, with only the hollow, empty remains of it left. In a fit of anger, Paramic grabs them and tosses them into the river. As they sink below the surface, they disappear into the aether. Where ever they end up, Paramic can't possibly know

Once and for all, Paramic breathes for the last time. Then, there is nothing

The universe resets once more after that. The world begins anew. Once more does reality continue on as per usual. The planet forms, the Scorching happens, and all the events leading up happen once more

Until one day, a young, academic minded dragon finds a pair of claw caps nearby a riverbed once more

Aaannddd that's Paramic! Woawie. Anyways I gotta head off for my lecture now lol

[secret-explosion]

First Fanfic

Hi guys! So, this is my first fanfic for literally any fandom and big surprise; it's a snzfic

The Ma/levolent p/odcast has me in a chokehold atm and @empresskaze gave me the courage to officially post this one-shot!

Thank you Kaze, I was really nervous and appreciate your kind words! I do not believe this version would have seen the light of day if not for your encouragement!

Spoilers for part 46!!!

Now, without further ado......

“I am getting fucking tired of this sad excuse for a paperweight, and his inability to give us a damn straight answer” John all but growls. Farther upstream, they make their way towards the direction of the castle. Or, the approximate direction Yorick eventually settles on as satisfactory. Playing 20 Questions with a dismembered head was neither of the travelers’ definitions of fun. From the bag, a muffled response was heard; “Perhaps you should ask better questions, Master!”

John grumbles, trying with all his might to sound angry but instead sounds absolutely exhausted. It seems that his newfound ability to sleep left him in a bit of a morning fog.

Arthur chuckles at the thought. “Well, it looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed”

“Shut up, Arthur” John muttered around a perplexed yawn. Ignoring how a disembodied voice with only two limbs and a pair of eyes to interact with the world could apparently yawn, Arthur began to wonder not for the first time how long this journey would take.

With all the precautions they have been needing to take, especially since the frightful night they had, this few days trip has taken it’s toll. Avoiding people has become a bit more troublesome as they go closer to the land the lords of the castle owned. There were more dwellings and settlements scattered throughout the forest. Farmland was becoming a bit more commonplace and the ease with which to make camp unbothered was growing thinner as the threat of someone coming across them increased. Thus the long way around. Yorick stayed blessedly silent for the most part, but sat like a heavy burden in the bag. A lot has happened in the last few days with little ability to unpack it. Though it was not for lack of John trying

“Yorick seems to have very little to say about Horig, and we are left only with his vague threat that you would become his ‘apostle’ regardless”

“John, I would really rather put this behind us”

“But this being, it implied that he was not-”

“But we’re out of the woods, John! We have added more than enough time to our journey out of caution for it!”

“I just think we should try to be smart about this, Arthur! We don’t even know what Horig is, not really. Let alone how much of a threat he poses in this world. Until we have more information, we Need to be careful!”

“How Much More Careful Can We Be? We have that village miles behind us! His followers were slaughtered! On top of that, we have stayed well away from people and trees and any blasted fungi of any kind! There is no way he can get to us here!”

On top of John keeping an eye out for any odd growths of fungi, floating lights, creepy non-children and disturbing clearings,  it was needless to say that their time spent traversing the woods has been taxing. The night’s events had the tethered souls rattled.

Arthur took a deep breath, seeming to clear himself of a lingering memory. “You have been keeping us extraordinarily safe, John. But weren’t you the one who said we can’t afford to let fear halt our progress? For now, we eat the elephant! Let’s just worry about getting to the castle in one piece.”

Alexander squawks from his position on the nearest tree behind the travelers, and Arthur’s mouth tugs into an easy smile as he began making one sided conversation with the owl.

Alexander squawks from his position on the nearest tree behind the travelers, and Arthur’s mouth tugs into an easy smile as he began making one sided conversation with the owl.

It was not lost on John that the bird seemed to have a calming effect on Arthur, that it somehow eased and amused him enough to lift his spirits. Even if ever so slight, the difference might as well have been night and day to John. He held no such “sentiments” for the wide eyed creature that seemed to stare right through his soul… as if it knew all he’d ever seen and done....

John decided that he did not like the bird, but he would tolerate it a little while longer if it meant Arthur would have something that made him slightly happy. Even if just for a short while.

John had reason for concern for his human. The man had just come back to life a few days ago. John’s worst fears realized as he could do nothing while the life slipped from Arthur. For all his power, it truly meant nothing if he couldn’t protect the being he had come to care so much for. After all that had transpired, John distantly recognizes that he may be a tad bit paranoid. For how much the encounters with the Hag and Horig shook him, Arthur seems to rather forget it happened entirely. “We have to move forward, rather than risk falling behind,” he reasoned. With Arthur unwilling to talk about the subject any further and with a steely drive to travel to the castle as quickly as possible, John felt again as if he had failed his human. He can’t save Arthur from harm, he can’t offer answers(however difficult it is to get them) like the vanguard, and can’t comfort him the way an unintelligent but fluffy raptor can. However, if being over cautious is what he could do to keep his friend safe, then he would gladly be paranoid enough for the both of them and guide them away from any potential threat.

As Arthur chatted idly with the winged creature, John began to take stock of their shared body once more. Even though they had found no indication of infection in the last few times checking their stitches, John began to notice a slight uptick in their body temperature. While it wasn’t a particularly cold day, John felt a lingering chill in his limbs that seemed to only increase as they walked on.

“Arthur, I think we’re overheating”

“John, we have been walking for hours. Its perfectly normal to have a flush from the increase in blood pressure. And besides, the breeze is definitely cool enough”, Arthur replies as a brush of wind sends a shutter through him. Arthur swiped at his nose before continuing, “We are fine for now, we’ll stop for water momentarily”

John conceded. Despite sharing a body for so long, there were many quirks that eluded John. But in all their time together, it did not seem that Arthur was prone to getting chilled easily. Especially after a long walk. However, if this is what it took for Arthur to take a break, he would wait.

That was, until John felt something new begin to take hold.

“Arthur! Something’s Wrong!”

Arthur immediately halted. Looking about wildly in a blind panic, the man looked ready to bolt at the drop of a hat.

“What is it John, What do you see!?!”

“It isn’t what I see, there is a pressure behind our eyes! It is building and irritating and, and growing. I noticed it before but it’s making it hard for us to keep our eyes-”

“HRASHOO”

“….”

“….”

“Well… I guess that makes sense, it’s gone now.”

Arthur blinked in shock. “Honestly John!” Arthur let out with a hearty laugh and a liquid sniffle. “That is what you were worried about! You cannot tell me that you are so jumpy that a sneeze scared you that badly!”

“I don't understand how I am supposed to remember all of your body's strange reflexes! They are distracting and frankly annoying."

John also failed to see how making a loud sound through the mouth would help Athur's body rid it's of an irritant in his nose. He often found himself asking himself why human body's are so inefficient. But with everything they had gone through, the fear he felt was different.

"But yes. I suppose I am a bit… on edge. A lot has happened, Arthur and I worry”

Arthur patted his left arm affectionately. Arthur teased but knew the fear of the other shoe dropping equally well. They had been through a lot, without much chance of normalcy or reprieve.

“Well, I doubt an errant bit of pollen is going to be the.. the en-” Arthur’s breath falters and gives a sudden gasp before a strong triplet of sneezes ripped through him and into their sleeve.

"uH!..HRU-SHAhh..hHUH-TCHUhh.. uHIH K'TCHeiwhh!"

Arthur had stumbled a bit with the unexpectedness of it, but quickly righted himself. John shuttered in disgust as the damp spot on his sleeve seeped onto his skin, while Arthur silently wished for his handkerchief.

John grew quiet as he saw his vision blur with irritated tears and came to a sudden realization: John doesn't suffer from hay fever. Arthur coughs and clears his throat before finishing his thought, “the end of us John. We have faced much more challenging foes, I would say!” Although attempting to inject a bit of humor into his voice, the slight shiver that danced through his spine urged John to think otherwise.

“John.. why are you so quiet all of a-- GAH!” he exclaimed in surprise as something cool pressed against his forehead. It took him all of a second to realize it was his own John’s hand planted under his slightly too long fringe. John’s quiet hum of disapproval spoke to a few things: Arthur had done something he considered stupid, he realized he himself had done something stupid, or he was hiding how concerned he truly was. In this case, it was all three.

All John could think was 'How could I have missed this?'

Sighing, Arthur gently pushed the hand off. “John, what is with you?”

John bit back the very justified response of “YOU!” or the sarcastic “Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that you keep almost Dying every few minutes!!!” But John had to be smart about this. Sniffly and irritated, Arthur was very likely to argue and trudge on simply to spite him rather than take his own well-being into consideration. An unwell Arthur was a snappish Arthur, and John needed to avoid sparking any petty squabbles until he could convince Arthur to take care of himself.

Eventually, John settled on a very even toned “I think we should set camp for the evening, Arthur. I don’t like sound of you, nor how feverish you feel.”

“John, it isn’t even nightfall! We would be wasting precious time, and for what? To sit around the forest for something as small as a fucking cold? I don’t think so. We don't-"

"So you admit you're sick then?"

"What? No, John. I am perfectly fine! And we have spent enough time here as it is! We have things to Do. We need to get to the castle, we need to find someone with answers as to where to find the ‘blackstone’ and-- hIH UK’TshUH!”

Another harsh sneeze cut Arthur's argument sort, leaving him sniffling and blinking.

“Arthur, listen to me! There are things here that can and will try to kill you! You are at risk even at your best! Let’s not test our luck when you are not doing well. Don’t forget that you are still in recovery from the Hag-”

“OK Fine, John! Let’s just find an empty area and continue in the morning…” Arthur said with gusto but visibly deflated, massaging his throat after the vocal expenditure.

John, on the other hand, sounded stupefied.

“…… you’re… actually listening to me?” The fact alone was boding in and of itself. Arthur always had at least some point to argue. Very rarely did he ever actually concede this easily.

 “Honestly, I am just too tired to argue right now, John” Arthur admitted with a quiet sniffle before scrubbing his nose on his right sleeve.

“Alright then. We’re still walking the stream, but the topography has changed from dense forest to a lighter woodsy area. The sun has moved quite a bit toward the west, bathing the area in a calming, orangey, glow. The sun light seems to peek from behind the sparser tree trunks and catch the particulates in the air with a soft but dazzling golden glow.  We have passed many settlements that seem to have been farms at one point. If there are people living here, I do not see them. But from behind the tree line, the area looks well used. If the smell was anything to go by, then it may be a place for cattle and other livestock”

“I 'bmay actually be grateful to d'not smell b'much at the b'moment” Arthur added with building congestion beginning to dull his consonants.

“On the far side, I think I can see a hilly area with an odd rock formation. If we walk a bit further-- wait move your head to the--- yes! Ok there seems to be an opening to a wide and shallow cave. Are we choosing to try sneaking into the barn, or do we want to try for the cave?”

Arthur hummed in thought, sniffling near constant now.

“We tend to have bad luck with caves, John…. But the first village we went to turned out to be a bad idea… I want to continue avoiding people for now. Especially with the state I’m in, Christ! When did it get so fucking Cold?” Arthur hugged his arm around himself as best he could without brushing his stab wounds and shivered. John resisted a retort about the fucking fever and instead waited for Arthur to collect himself.

“So, to the cave then?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.

“To the cave, then.”

“And bless you by the way”

“Wha- *gasps* hUH-SHUH! guhhh you cheeky bastard”

“Now who woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” John asked with a chuckle, to which Arthur only replied with another sneeze and the groan of someone who just wants to go to bed.

[mickittotheman]

hello new friend! ✨️

saw that post about random questions for your stories, i am yet to read much of your works besides the most recent galladrabble!

so help me get started, what's your favourite fic you've written? maybe your favourite line even? what inspired it?

New friend❗️❗️❗️❗️ 💫✨️ Thank you so much for the ask, I've been waiting to get home from work ALL DAY so I can answer this lol.

So, I do have some (very old) works floating around from past fandoms, but so far the only gallavich fics I've posted have been my drabbles.

But! I have been working on a gallavich fic since like a few weeks before I even made this sideblog, and by "working on", I mean "like over 100k into it so far and not even close to done"

Posting full chapters before I'm done with the entire fic always makes me nervous because what if i have a new idea and need to go back and change something, but I'm always happy to share scenes in the meantime!

Basic premise is it's a vaguely canon-compliant-ish au except they never met growing up. Ian is in his EMT post- Caleb era, and Mickey is newly escaped from the Milkovich House of Horrors and working as a bartender. Inspiration wise, I got this idea for one specific line (from IGGY of all people. like don't get me wrong Iggy is cool and all, but I honestly never thought about him that much until my need to write a stupid pun overcame me) and it somehow snowballed into an Entire Plot.

Anyways, long ramble aside, I have included one of the earlier scenes below if you are interested but if not of course that's fine okay byyyyeeeee 🫣 🤐 😶

__________________

“Third drink of the night, Red,” Mickey says, sliding the newly filled glass of sprite back over to him. “Gonna hafta cut you off soon.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Red grumbles. Glares. Doesn't even try to hide the amused sparkle in his eyes.

He’s been acting weird today, though. Weirder than he usually is, and he’s already usually pretty fucking weird, so that's saying something. 

He keeps shooting Mickey these little looks. Scrunching his brows together. Fiddling with his glass.

Mickey braces himself when Red suddenly takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, dreading what the guy might say. Might ask.

“Why do you call me Red?”

Mickey blinks. Out of all the questions he’d been steeling himself for, that hadn't been one of them. He’s not expecting it. Not expecting the serious look on Red’s face as he asks it. “Uh. Your hair. It’s red,” Mickey says like an idiot, as if the guy isn’t fucking aware of that fact.

Red huffs and rolls his eyes. Squints at Mickey suspiciously. Fiddles with his drink again. “Kinda starting to feel like you just don’t know what my name is.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” Mickey snorts.

Red falters. Nearly tips his glass over. “Seriously?” he asks. Looks a bit put out, a bit annoyed, a bit hurt, and over all really fucking ridiculous. “You don’t remember my name?”

Mickey cocks his brows. “You never fucking told me it, man.”

“I did! I–” Red’s eyes dart around, and Mickey assumes he’s flitting through his memories, trying and failing to find the moment he introduced himself. His skin goes all flushed (and Mickey doesn't think its adorable, because it’s fucking not) and he buries his face in his hands dramatically. “Oh my god. I am such an idiot.”

Mickey bites at his lower lip to reign in the smile threatening to pop up. Raps a fist on the bartop. “You good? You’re looking kinda red there, Red.”

Red splays out his fingers and aims a glare at Mickey from behind them. “Ian. My name’s Ian.”

Ian. 

Mickey rolls it around in his head, on his tongue, getting used to the flavor of it. Ian. It’s good. Short and sweet, just like ‘Red’. Same amount of letters and everything. Flows better, though, the kind of name that sounds good when it's drawn out long and slow in a groan.

Holy fuck does Mickey need to get it together, this shit is getting fucking ridiculous. 

Red– Ian– has regrouped himself while Mickey’s brain was falling to shambles. His pouty glare is back to full strength as he crosses his fucking treetrunk arms across his wide chest and fucking focus, Milkovich. “You didn’t think to fucking ask me what it was? This whole time?”

Mickey shrugs. Rubs at his lip. “Figured if you wanted me to know you would’ve told me.”

Ian uncrosses his arms to flail his hands around. Nearly knocks over his drink again. Mickey sagely reaches over and pushes it out of the danger zone. “Of course I wanted you to know! You think I wanted you to refer to me in your head by the color of my hair every time you think about me?”

“Who the fuck says I spend anytime thinking about your sorry ass?” Mickey shoots out, immediately on the defensive, because yeah, maybe he does spend too much fucking time thinking of Ian, but he’s not just gonna fucking admit to that.

Ian perks up at that. Grins that fucking grin that Mickey knows by now means trouble. “Didn’t say they had to be thoughts about my ass, specifically, but–”

“Shut the fuck up, Red–”

“Ian.”

“Ian,” Mickey mocks. He doesn't think he’s entirely imagining the way something sparks in Ian at the sound of his name in Mickey’s mouth, but he could just be confusing it with the way something in his own body gets set ablaze. 

They both swallow. Mickey can see Ian’s adam's apple bob with it. He forces himself to tear his gaze away from Ian’s throat.

He thinks maybe Ian might be flirting with him sometimes. Maybe. But he’s not sure. Isn’t used to this. 

Before, he’d always scope out his options, settle on a guy who seemed safe enough. Wouldn't have to say a word. Would just catch their eye, cock his brow, and jerk his head towards an exit. If they followed, great. If not, whatever. No skin off Mickey’s back.

He’s never done whatever this shit is. If this shit even is anything. Which, again, it could be.

Probably isn’t. He’s probably just gone too long without getting his dick wet. Is probably just pining like some fucking school girl after the unattainable quarterback, seeing signs that aren’t there. Fucking pathetic.

It ain't right. Mickey’s not fucking pathetic. He’s just not.

+++

That’s what he tells himself, at least, when he’s leaning his back against his front door hours later. Breath still panting, hand still shoved down his now sticky boxers, tongue still tasting Ian’s name, not even having made it to his fucking bed in his rush to get in and get off.

+++

[cyberrat]

89th Batch Of Fics: 13th Fill

Husk/Velvette; Others – Dress Up AU – Part 3 – misunderstanding; mistaken identity; dub-con (love potion) – Velvette draws him in deeper with her love-potion induced kisses.

---

Kissing is… nice. That’s a fucking asinine thought to have as he slowly winds his arms around Velvette and suckles on the tip of her tongue, chasing more of that cloying cherry flavor, but it’s there floating in the forefront of his mind anyway.

It’s been a damn hot second since he’s kissed someone. Surely not in his less-than-glorious post-Overlord days. Nobody cares for a washed up old tomcat. He sure as hell hasn’t felt well enough to be interested in kissing let alone fucking anybody thanks to depression having a chokehold on him.

Before that, then. Back when he still had something to lose. A casino to manage. Souls that he could grab by the fistfuls and stuff down his throat like he belonged into Gluttony way more than Pride.

That time is fuzzy in his head, though; memories dulled by alcohol damage that he had been chasing like a Hellhound would chase red, dripping meat. Red and dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Like cherry lipgloss filling his mouth as it hangs open uselessly, his whole body filled with fever heat, aware of every piece of fur being brushed by the warm air of the room or held down by the ridiculous clothes he’s been forced into.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Part of him wants to get on his knees and just open up. Let Velvette spit into his mouth. Grab him by the throat and hold him nice and secure as she fed him more and more of her lipgloss.

Whenever she pulls back to breathe – to let him breathe – he can only see her make-up glowing on her dark skin. The ovals of her eyelids and the smeared, deranged grin of her mouth pulling him right back in for more.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Husk can hear her voice floating at him, throaty and low. Her fingers have wandered, reaching up to his large ears and softly petting them. He trembles, vaguely afraid of what her cruel little fingers could do on such a sensitive part of his body.

But Velvette does not grab and rip. She just tickles and brushes and tells him in that same throaty voice: “Lookin’ so good, mommy… With my lipstick on you… pretty girly-girl.”

She rolls her hips, dragging her naked, soft belly against the obvious bulge of his cock. When had he gotten hard? When had he become so insatiably desperate and needy for touch? He makes a high-pitched little sound, choking on his own cherry-flavored spit.

Velvette coos again, slipping her cruel, sharp fingers into the long hair Alastor magicked him earlier. It feels foreign, especially with it settling between his wings and making him constantly aware of them.

Velvette presses another kiss against Husk’s muzzle; close mouthed and downright tame. She looks critically into his eyes, then gives him another little peck before she nods – whyever she did that – and reaches one hand down between them.

Husk’s eyes roll into his skull as he feels her palming his cock through his clothes. Clothes that are no longer pressing in against him but gently fluttering and… caressing him. His head is filled with cotton. He can’t get a grip on anything that is happening. He has the distinct feeling of having walked into a trap with open eyes but that calm, calculating part in his mind rumbles that this is even better than what he could ever have come up with to distract her.

“Good kitten,” Velvette whispers against his mouth, her breath ruffling his whiskers. She keeps her hand steady, letting him roll his hips and pushing his cock against her palm. His clothes cling to him there, adding a certain kind of friction that creeps like an ache through his body and has tears of overstimulation itching at the corners of his eyes in seconds.

“Come on. I’d like to take this somewhere more… private. And you can tell me again how you came here in the first place, hmn?”

She pulls away from him, dragging out of the lax grip of his useless damn paws. Husk stares at her. His tongue is out; peeking against his bottom lip. There’s neon-and-red-tinged drool slowly dripping from its tip as he watches her retreat like a dumbass.

For some reason what she’s seeing makes her grin. Velvette’s teeth are glowing brighter than her now smudged make-up. She curls one of her cruel little fingers in a beckoning gesture and Husk feels himself pulled forward first by the choker and then by his clothes gently pressing against his back and urging him on.

He feels… honestly deranged at the moment. Something has happened to him and it takes him trudging past Valentino sprawled back on a couch with Angel riding him in front of a crowd, cherry red drool stretching messily between their mouths and dripping down against their bodies for him to realize that he’s been drugged.

He’s on this fucking love potion. How did she- when did she-

Husk just trots after her like a marionette. That, at least, is something he is used to. Someone pulling his body along as if they had all the right in the damn afterworld to it. His aching eyes slowly swivel and catch sight of Alastor.

He’s standing in a corner with Vox, back ramrod straight, both palms resting on his microphone cane. There’s a surprisingly polite smile on his face, head tilted minimally to listen to whatever Vox was telling him.

Suddenly, as if sensing Husk’s regard, his heavy lidded eyes flick up and their gazes meet. Alastor takes the situation in with a single glance. His smile widens for a fraction.

He tilts his head minimally toward Husk.

There is nothing outward, really, to show how much he is enjoying himself, but Husk knows it anyway. He knows with every fiber of his being that Alastor is tickled pink about his predicament and that has him seething even more.

A blink later the moment is broken and he keeps stumbling along behind Velvette sashaying her way through the party and not stopping for anyone.

She chooses a random door in a hallway. Husk has had enough time to claw at least some semblance of self-control back from the serum; enough so that he can at least marginally dig his paws into the ground as his clothes keep tugging him along.

Velvette turns around. Can she sense him struggling against whatever it is she is doing? One of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifts.

“Interesting… Mmnnnhh seems I need to keep working on the lipgloss formula. Tsk. Well aren’t you a helpful little kitten? Making my night in more ways than one.”

Husk opens his mouth but closes it again without saying a word. He slowly looks around. They’re in some kind of… nondescript room. Could be some kind of parlor to greet guests in, could be a dressing room, could be fucking anything.

Not that it matters much. Certainly the fuck not when Velvette smiles like the devil himself and drops her hands to the heart shaped buckle of her belt, slowly opening it up as Husk stands there, gawping at her.

“Mmmhh mommy. Why don’t you get on your knees and tell me your cute little story again?”

[sophieinwonderland]

Have you seen Sense8?

It never really picked up steam but goddamn, I cried watching it, it was so accurate to systemhood and learning communication.

Maybe a "plurality of"? Or is that too easy?

-SAS

Not personally myself, exactly, but I know it's a great show!

Ghost watched season 1 long before I existed, but the plurality wasn't something he thought about back then for obvious reasons. (Besides me not existing, he didn't even know what plurality was.)

I have thought a lot about it and considered watching it for myself some time with fresh eyes instead of sifting through vague mostly-forgotten memories.

When writing my Hiveminds and Multiplicity post, this was actually a huge influence on it because Sense8 feels to me like the perfect Multiple Hivemind. Nothing else has even comes close to it!

I doubt I would have even made that post if that show hadn't been floating around in our heads, because yeah, it's super plural! 😁

It's probably not something I'm going to write about without a watch of the whole series, (I think my host stopped watching because of a recast in season 2) and I don't imagine myself getting around to that for a long time with other things being higher priority.

In the meantime though... why don't you take a crack at it? (Preferably not with the specific "the plurality of..." label, since I'm kind of attached to that branding. But you can put your own SASsy spin on it.) I mean, you're great with writing detailed posts, and I think you'd do pretty well at media analysis like that too, and discussing how you relate to it as a system.

You obviously don't have to if you don't want to... no pressure! I just think if you did, you'd be pretty good at it. And it might be fun for you too! 🤷‍♀️💖

On the topic of my "plurality of..." series, I've started work on my next one and am really excited for it!

It's going to take a while because it will involve taking a lot of pics of a book on my cellphone and going between that and typing the actual article on the computer, but I know where I want to go with it, at least. Now it's just a matter of the execution.

Things are going to get WEIRD!

source

[phantomofthehoepera]

I love your 2023 Repo the Genetic Opera art... Please... Please I'm desperate I need to know the lore... Please...

HAIIII SORRY I'M SO LATE TO THIS idk if you meant any lore in specific so I'm gonna take this as an opportunity to just dump all the shit I made up in my brain peace and love <333333

so like the main stuff I made up I guess would be the repomums which again was a cocreation with my darling precious @slydiddledeedee the lore is very basically they were all in an opera troupe with mag and marni and were cursed by god to die if they ever slept with an italian man. they also all left rotti for nathan, rotti kind of picked them off one by one like he'd marry one of them she'd leave him and die and he'd get a new one. no one present recognised the pattern of this. they're all colour coordinated which is a thing I like to do for the largo kids when I draw them so I guess it's genetic idk. important fun fact is that luigi personally killed his mum and was then lobotomised just a little bit which is why I keep drawing him with that big ole head scar.

other thing I made up was lore for the random zydrate lady as part of a larger effort to make shit up abt graverobber. most of my ideas for her are vague also not at all based in the movie I need to stress this is basically just an oc that I borrowed a character from the movie for. n ee way the story kind of goes she and graves start off in the drug dealer/drug addict business at the same time and they're roomies sometimes when they can afford it. she'll usually be more involved in whatever post movie ideas are floating around in my head at the moment bc I do feel like it's important to get a perspective that more like. on the ground if that makes sense?? bc like no one in the movie is super affected by the repossession system as much as I would like to see so she's my hero she's my class struggle queen.

speaking of graves I have so many ideas abt him in my head like the way I cope with the existence of scary scary evil wicked terrence is I just completely redesign him like moreseo than any of the other characters. to ME he's a freaky evil little dyke he probably was on whatever supercharged t repoworld has for a week or two but couldn't afford any more than that but like I said the t was supercharged so he can still sing his parts peace and love. I like to personally give him an actual concrete geneco debt bc like obv he has to have one but I would like it spelled out please just to have gramber relationship drama. think it would be funny if his heart gave out on him and he has a synthetic one, once again this is all for gramber relationship drama. in my brain he has been kind of fixated on her ever since he was a kid (see this piece). I also do like to give him and shilo kind of a sibling thing going on for literally no other reason than I like sibling dynamics I think they're delightful. I think post movie shilo should start an awful band and he should peddle her cds to his customers.

I have sooo many thoughts on the largo siblings like I said luigi straight up murdered his mother probably when he was very young. the way I picture it he's always been pretty unstable and wouldn't have been made as much of a public figure, unlike amber and pavi who I picture as having been like legit child stars at some point. like idk the way I picture it rotti would almost publicise them more after having to keep luigi that much out of the public eye since he's yknow. insane. I like to lean more into the opera vibes and give them little ballet shoes and shit like for some reason I always picture them as dancers. n ee way I think growing out of child stardom hit amber the hardest, not that would have coped super well either. pavi at least in the movie seems to have kind of a place at the table when they talk abt who's to inherent and like we usually see him at rotti's side while amber is usually out on her own and like idk it's kind of impossible not to read it as gendered to ME. also I always need to stress I don't make their backstories sad to make them sympathetic I do it bc I'm thoroughly successionpilled thank you and goodnight.

don't have that many thoughts on shilo and nathan, esp on nathan I moreso just have critiques of how he's written like icl I find the jekyll and hyde routine sooo uninspired. like idk I just think he becomes that much more horrifying of a character if you picture him as more calculated in his violence. I also just think it's kind of lame how little talk there seems to be abt the fact that he is like severely abusive to shilo like it's such a huge part of the movie I feel like it maybe becomes a bit too obvious to talk abt if that makes sense? like it's such a fact of life but whenever I start thinking about it for too long I want to scream like beyond the poison thing which like would be enough on its own the way he gaslights and hits her is literally scary and I just feel like a lot of that horror gets lost when he's depicted as like. sometimes not being in full control like it sort of takes away his agency and in turn a lot of the impact of his character, at least to me.

as for shilo like I said not many thoughts I'm mostly just interested in where she'd go post movie like I said I want her to start a shitty band I feel like that could heal her. also want her to lose the wig like idk could be symbolic maybe 👍

[j2zara]

Things I’ve been thinking abt bc it’s late and ive been exhausted to talk but have been a little too shy to bring to chat but honestly might later:

Reincarnation au specifically where they’re teachers at Aguefort. just bc I think it would be funny that. Like to me in text Ellie fell first but j3 fell harder so I just think it would be funny if at first Ellie kinda thought j3 was obnoxious and didn’t rly like him but also couldn’t deny he was kinda hot and that she’s into him. Meanwhile j3 is immediately into her so he’s being kinda flirty but also clearly also admires her on a professional level too

Reincarnation au pt 2 bc in this universe Ellie is the one that is jacecoded and j3 is Portercoded in that j3 is immediately kind of Taken with Ellie meanwhile she’s being kinda avoidant and coy bc she’s like? This guy is my colleague and he’s trying to chat me up?? the nerve?? (She’s definitely kinda flattered) but also j3 is kinda torn bc he can and would normally want to float something casual bc that’s usually what he’s into but also he does really kinda like her…

Like in Ellie’s mind he’s just trying to get into her pants meanwhile he’s like. I’m trying to be cool but I want to be with her

They eventually do hook up after a lot of pent up sexual tension (esp bc ellie is annoyed by how Into Him she really is) and it is very barbarian teacher x sorcery teacher being an obvious thing even tho they’re trying to not tip anyone off but the staff is like chuckles we’re in danger… and Ellie in her mind is like this is casual! It is better to not get too attached bc I am a weirdo freak trying to con Aguefort into giving up all the research on reincarnation and on the hunt for some long lost Thing I can’t even really articulate. Meanwhile j3 in his head is like. We’re dating :)

It’s a little torment nexus 7 Jaces thesis coded bc Ellie is looking past j3 a little bc she’s like. Obsessed w this vague idealistic concept of the past and this person that she lost that is Right Here. There’s like. Grief that j3 feels from her which is so strange bc he’s right here! but also I do think they escape the torment nexus they can transcend jaceporter bc when Ellie realizes this has been j3 the whole time it’s like!!!! You’ve always been enough you will always be enough there is no glorious past and to love someone is to watch a million births of the person they’re becoming

I also think there’s a version of reincarnation au where Ellie is an adventurer and she’s genuinely out in the world trying to find j2 and j3 could be very fun. But like. While she’s on an adventure the party needs a sorcerer for hire and it’s j33333333 but she doesn’t recognize him immediately like she thought she would! But they get to know each other on this like quest and fall for each other a second time and she even saves him a couple times and he’s like. Kinda heart eyes about her over it. And sure he does fuck around with her party a bit and hurt her feelings. But also. What if they cuddled for warmth :3

Ok. Away from reincarnation au. Listen we’ve talked abt creeper j2 and even creeper Jace but I think we need to get into Creeper Ellie or something. Something something where she watches j3porter get it on but it could be they know abt it or they don’t idk

I won’t lie a part of this is bc. There’s that line in stay / leave abt her jerking it in the bathroom to thoughts abt j3 later and I am still thinking abt that bc I do think she’s done it before more than once tbh I am compelled by Ellie kinda having a crush on j3 before they’re ever really a Thing

Obviously I’m still stuck on LJ3porter toxic solesian play coded threesome in LSOP. Where j4 is like I want to take you Porter but can’t you let j3 stretch me out so that it’s perfect and I’m ready to take you < 3. Excuse to machinate getting topped by j3 in LSOP

LJ3 Vegas wedding (or Vegas-proxy wedding). There’s so many variations on this that could be fun, one version I think is sweet is the Monica x Chandler version where they’re together and they love each other and haven’t been thinking that much abt getting married but are desperately looking for a Sign they should just Go For It but also are so scared.

The other version of this is that they’re. Like. Not together like they’re in their FWB era or something but they get drunk and wanna do something. Stupid. But also. Was this just an excuse for them to go for something they wanted to do and were scared to look at sober? Maybe

[broifoundher]

Kara Zor-El x g!p Kryptonian reader (Part 2)

(Part 1)

How long has it been? Months surely! And considering that it’s been so long since I wrote the first part, I owe you all probably pages and pages in return for your kindness and love. But unfortunately, I don’t have that. I just have what I just wrote today and it only results in this really short amount. Yet, I really hope you enjoy it, because I’m never sure of what I do and how it ends up.

Quick reminder that English isn’t my first language, I’m not a writer, I don’t own the characters, I do this to share my creativity with others that have aligning interests with mine in hopes that it participates in quelling your hunger for stories, also I do not post regularly nor in a recurrent timeframe…

You gasped awake like you had been suffocating. Everything was vague, memory as well as sight.

What had happened? Where were you? How did you get here? And why the hell Phantom was it still hard to breathe?

You groaned and another question was added to the bunch : Why did it ache so much?

You gripped your head in one hand and used the other to swat away the accumulation of liquid in your eyes.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your thoughts and flashing memories in order. Just as much as your body was uncooperative to what you wanted it to do. You struggled to get your breathing under control and body to stop shaking.

You groaned again as a wave of pain struck your chest which had you reflexively grip at it. And that was when you realized you had something sticking to yourself.

Panic settled quickly into you at the unfamiliar strings that were attached to your chest and torso so you ripped them off without second thoughts, almost falling over as your body still felt benumbed despite the successful motion.

That was when your hearing cleared up, allowing you to drastically hear the high pitched and continuous sound that came from whatever thing was attached to you. Annoyed, your fist swung over, smashing into it.

Though it didn’t offer too much comfort for your ears.

And though so very painfully so, you had regained your hearing, but your other senses were still dull. Leaving your sight blurry.

You looked up in surprise when you felt something touch your shoulder, only to see a blurry silhouette. Confused and scared, you reached for it and slammed it against the ground. You heard a grunt and the sound of something breaking. And then, as an alarm that you were sure would render you deaf sounded, you searched for an escape despite your low visibility.

With blurry sight, you manoeuvred frantically away from the shouting and sound of footsteps. Sometimes colliding into walls that broke under your weight. Fumbling around due to your lack of coordination. But as you bulldozed your way through, it became easier to move forward. And at the first sign of an exit, you took the jump, not hearing any shouts or footsteps coming from there.

And just like that, you braced for gravity to pull you down a few floors, but the sinking feeling of falling never came. And when you opened your eyes, you found yourself floating.

You didn’t have time to grasp your head around what was happening as you heard shouts and you knew you didn’t have time to stand—, or rather float— around.

… TIME SKIP …

As your head pondered with a bunch of questions and whereas your mind tried navigating through them, the realization that someone was talking to you ended up startling you more than it should’ve.

Yet, it couldn’t be helped. You were deeply disoriented.

And with your vision being once more obscured by the sweat dripping into your eyes, it only fed into your confusion.

“[Where am I?]” You breathed out to the shadowy figure. You blinked a few times to try to clear your eyes and you noticed the individual was much smaller than you.

It looked at you with curious eyes and made a noise you had never heard. So, you thought, a language barrier, how unlucky…

…

[fatuismooches]

Hello smooches, its been a while since i popped up here. Been busy with school since i missed like a whole semester bcs i was hospitalized 💀 now i have to catch up with everything.. (pls send help-) anyway, I hope u and the others are doing well 🙏💞

Also, i want to share a very messy Capitano brainrot or a very random thought that have been plaguing my mind for the past few weeks 💀 and its about him having separation anxiety (or fear of losing someone he loves), especially towards *cough* fragile!reader *cough*

I know it is VERY ooc of him, but to me just the thought of someone like him having that just tug a string in my heart 😔

Just think about it, that man must have been through a LOT before he became known as the strongest individual in teyvat and being feared by many people, even being called a monster bcs of how strong he is when he is on the battlefield. Even how bloody his hands are, there's still "someone" (cough reader cough) who really cares/loves him, accept whoever he is and makes him happy. But suddenly that person fell sick and their health keeps deteriorating everyday while he doesn't know what to do to make his sick lover better? (Sure, he can protect reader from any harm. But, can he protect them from getting unknown disease?) Don't mind me, i'll just lie down here and cry-

Also i have this scenario in my head, like the way he walked so fast as soon as he finally touches the front door of their shared home when he came back from expedition just to find reader. He NEEDS to see them with his own eyes, even though all of his subordinates and their house attendants already told him that reader is fine on the letter he recieved everytime he asks how's the condition of his sick lover.

The moment he sees reader, weakly trying to walk towards him to welcome him, he just basically grabbing onto them and hugged them and they can hear tiny quiet aborted breaths coming from under his.. Helmet(?), mumbling breathy words that sound jumbled together but due to their proximity they can vaguely make out a 'it's okay, they're here, they're still here.. and alive.. and not gone..' Reader, after hearing that and seeing him like this for the first time, it really made their heart squeeze painfully and hugged him tighter

Again i'm so sorry if this doesn't make any sense, i really need to get it out of my head ASAP but i also tried to make it as not messy as possible 😭😭 anyways, i really hope that u have an amazing day smooches! 🙏🛐💞

(It seems that everyone already completed Fontaine really fast, and then there's me who barely have time to play and missed some events in 3.8 too 😭 æügh- rip primogems 😔 also, Neuvillette.. the temptation of wanting to pull for him is too strong after seeing his drip marketing 😩)

-🥝

🥝 ANON!!! OH MY GOD I MISSED U SM. I WAS WORRIED BUT IM SO GLAD YOU’RE OKAY. Ahh that sounds really stressful I hope you’re making sure to rest and take breaks too :( *hugs you* But I am doing well, thank you 💞💞

But OUH. YOU RETURNED WITH SOME HEART-BREAKING DIDNT YOU 😭. Noooo the way you described his past makes me so sad :( Yes, there are a lot of people who respect him, but of course there will always be people scared of him. His great reputation won’t stop rumors from floating around, but he’s come to accept that. Especially when he has someone as lovely and kind as you, who shows their love without a moment’s hesitation, what other people think doesn’t really matter. Really, he’s come to value your opinion so much, he always takes what you say seriously even when it’s so obvious you’re joking.

OUCHHH I CANT EVEN PUT IT INTO WORDS. He’s so used to fighting things, things that have a physical form of course. That’s how he can protect you. But what can he do when sickness has no form? What use is he when he can’t cut through what’s ailing you with his sword? His hands are made for battle and killing but there is nothing he can kill that would make you better. 

Well now you’ve got me thinking about that too 😭 When he walks in he doesn’t even acknowledge his staff, just walks straight to your room to make sure you’re okay. I feel like the Fatui soldiers in his squad have grown to the point where they try to get everything done as soon as possible just so their captain can have even just a moment more of time to spend with you.

He would get so worried just seeing you out of bed, his heart rate would spike for a second and quickly support you and get you back to bed. But first he would just hold you tight, enough so that he can hear your heartbeat, feel your warmth and pulse, and know that you’re still truly here with him. He just needs to know you’re alive, he often finds his hands near your chest and wrist, to feel you breathe in and out. It’s really comforting to Capitano considering how he deals with death every day. After those few words he lets out, you know he didn’t mean for you to hear them, but now you have and you’ll do your best to reassure him. Just guide his big hand to your heart and let him feel the beat of your heart, how as long as he’s by your side you’ll swear to keep it beating for him :(

THANK YOU FOR THIS 🥝 ANON I’ve been missing Capitano a lot and your brain rots with him never fail 😫For the sake of my heart fragile reader got better thank you very much <3 And don’t worry about Fontaine or Genshin in general! It’s not going away and you should focus on yourself and your life first :) But when you do play I promise you’ll have a great time, Fontaine is very pretty and relaxing :) (Yes… join me in pulling for Neuvillette >:)))

[desultory-novice]

(Epilogue Mention) Do you have any theories on why the final boss fight vaguely looks like Whispy Woods, or a tree of some sort?

Sooo, I took so long getting to this ask that apparently Wikirby has already catalogued all the relevant information in regards to the Master Crown/Tree Crown/Master Tree/Mistilteinn/Mistletoe...

But I do have a few thoughts! The Wiki mentions that the death of Baldr (via misteltoe) started Ragnarok, but the moment I saw the Tree Crown, I thought "Did Halcandra have a world tree??" and "Is THAT why it's so 'dusty,' to quote Magolor?" (I grew up on games like "Tales of Phantasia," so my mind just instantly goes to "When a planet loses its world tree, it starts to fade!")

Another thing I wanted to bring up that I don't think a lot of people know is the meaning of mistletoe in the language of flowers. "I surmount all obstacles." It's a good theme for Magolor in his Epilogue, as he really does have to work himself up from nothing to defeat a power that once consumed him whole...!

<more thoughts below>

(I know Wikirby already mentioned that misteltoe is a parasitic plant, but I just want to bring that up again because I feel like I've been suggesting the Master Crown was a parasite this entire time. I NEVER bought into the theory that it was an innocent artifact that was corrupted BY Magolor because Magolor was so evil. It wouldn't hve looked the way it did when Void used it if that was the case.)

Another thing that I was thinking about. I did a lot of looking at the term "tree crown" in both English and Japanese and it is a real thing. The "crown" of a tree is the top of the tree. Which made me wonder...was the "Master Crown" ever meant to BE a crown, as in, an accessory you put on your head? Had it been twisted or modified into that form, going from tree to accessory over the....centuries?

Even before we got the tree reveal, I always thought it was strange how it curls and twists around Magolor. It doesn't operate the way you expect metal to. Already, when worn by Mago Soul, it "branches" out, and grows vines/roots around him to keep him trapped. Perhaps the very idea of it being a "crown" was an illusion?

Finally, to answer your question directly...

"Why it looks like Whispy Woods..."

So I mentioned earlier that Dark Nebula, which was sealed away in Castle Dedede, has some Tree Crown like features. That would potentially make it another Ancient Artifact on Pop Star. In addition to the Fountain of Dreams. And Pop Star has a Clockwork Star in at least semi-nearby orbit. What I'm getting at is that Pop Star has way more ties to the Ancients then it seems at first glance...

We also have seen, via Kirby Clash, that the Tree Crown can be either purified or pacified. It showed no signs of going wild in the Kirby Clash universe. And was generally hailed as an altogether good/beneficial thing. As long as it's in a relatively peaceful place surrounded by relatively peaceful people...

...Am I suggesting Whispy Woods was also born from a seed of the Tree Crown? .......Maybe? Possibly? Why not! Because, okay, listen...

You know how Crystal Shards had a Dark Matter possess Waddle Dee and it became a Waddle Doo?! And then it seemed like Waddle Doos might all be dark matter infested Waddle Dees?!

And Kracko PRODUCES Waddle Doos. And has one eye!

If Pop Star can have a calm (well, actually, Kracko is kind of canonically a jerk) incarnation of ZERO floating around, I don't see why it can't have a calm (well, actually, Whispy Woods may ALSO be a jerk) version of the Master Crown Tree?!?

...In short, I think Pop Star is hiding some secrets.

[marigamithinking]

Marigami (either or both could be in superhero suit) are locked in a small room, what could happen?

Marigami (either or both could be in superhero suit) are locked in a small room, what could happen?

Oooh! I love this prompt! here's a quick ryuko/ladybug identity reveal one-shot. Hope you like it! It isn't as long or well written as I would've liked, but I've finished it at 3 a.m. so shhh

Sometimes, magical suits don't protect you from getting knocked out. Sometimes, your enemy has the same magic as you do, and you're caught in a stale mate. And sometimes, being a superhero means waking up tied to a pole with no recollection or how it happened.

"Ugh... what?" Ladybug rolled her neck, only for it to hit against steel. "Ouch!" She went to rub her head, only to realise her hands and arms were tied against somebody else's. "Chat?"

"No, it is Ryuko... Chat Noir was unavailable, so you requested that I helped you with the supervillain." The mater-of-fact voice indicated she'd already regained her bearings. How long had ladybug been out?

"Oh god..." Vague flashes of the villain they'd been facing illicitated a frustrated groan from ladybug. "We have to get out!"

"Really? I thought we could spend this time getting to know each other." Ryuko's tone was unreadable, and Ladybug was too tired to be angry.

"Look, I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not, so I'll ignore that... have you used you power yet?"

"Yes, I used them while fighting. I detransformed while you were still passed out." Kagami frowned, "Longg is extremely fatigued... do you know if you have any kwami friendly food?"

Ladybug thought for five minutes before cringing at the plan she'd come up with. "If I detransform, Tikki can get food from my bag for herself and Longg, then they might be able to get us untied. But Kagami?"

"Yes, bug?"

"Can I trust you not to look?"

"You have my word, Ladybug."

As she detransformed, Marinette felt a twinge of guilt, similar to every time she'd lied to Alya about where she'd been or why she was always late. She trusted and admired Kagami, lying to her hurt. But being a superhero meant lying (even if that felt like a contradiction sometimes.)

"Tikki? Will you get a macaron for Longg as well?" Marinette asked her kwami gently, smiling down at her tired purple eyes.

"Yes, Ma- Guardian." Tikki floated over to Kagami. "Miss Tsurugi, this is for Longg to give his strength back." Tikki offered a pink and white polka dot macaron to Kagami.

"Thank you, Tikki." Longg weakly floated up from where he nestled in Kagami's lap.

"These macarons remind me of my friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Do you know her?"

Marinette tensed. "Oh, uh yeah, I know of her. Why's that?"

"Once, her friend's blood sugar was low, so she gave him one from her purse. Apparently, she always keeps a small box of macarons with her, in case someone needs something to eat. She's so kind, and she decorates her macarons like this... they're just as cute as she is."

"Oh wow... that's... well, you uh you dislike people who lie to you, correct? What if she's lying to you? To everyone? What if she's-"

"No. Marinette may lie, but I realise she would never lie to hurt me. She is one of the only people who has ever bothered to get to know me. It means a lot that she would do that. She wouldn't lie to me." Kagami's smile was evident in her voice as she spoke over the sound of Longg and Tikki untying the rope.

"But what if she keeps putting the people she loves in danger?" Marinette's voice wavered. Why did Kagami care about her? She didn't deserve someone to care that much about her. Especially not the girl she admired more than anyone.

"Ladybug, I love Marinette. That's all that matters, I believe."

Silence...

"Ladybug?"

Sniff...

"Are you okay?"

"No..."

The rope fell, and Marinette instinctively curled up to hide away.

"Can I turn around?"

"No! No, you can't- you can't know... you can't know how terrible I am..." Marinette's heart ached because still Kagami followed the rules, because she was the best.

"Are you Marinette, Ladybug?"

Silence...

"I still love you."

"Why?"

"Because... you could so easily be unkind, give up on everything, give up on me... but you don't. You must be so exhausted, but you still put it with teaching me how to talk to people and going to school and organising parties for your friends and helping your parents. You're... perfect. I'm sorry if my admition of love has upset you, though. I believe we could forget it ever happened."

"I love you too, Kagami... I'm just so scared. I've never felt this way before, and I've put you in danger so many times by giving you a miraculous!" Marinette wiped her eyes and stood. "We need to escape and defeat the villain, then I will no longer give you a miraculous. I can't keep putting you in danger."

"No. Marinette, I would fight even without a miraculous if it meant protecting you. Let me help you, bug." Kagami reached out, resting her hand on Marinette's shoulder. Marinette turned and squeezed Kagami tightly.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive... I think we should get to escaping, though... then we could talk about things properly, okay?"

"Okay... I love you, Dragon." Marinette kissed Kagami's cheek before transforming, as did Kagami.

"Lucky Charm!" Ladybug sighed as she received a hair pin. "Great. Hold on, Ryuko." She leaned down and painstakingly picked the lock, causing one of the walls of the crate to slide open. "After you."

"Thank you, bug." Ryuko smiled as they exited.

"Ready?"

"Yes. I won't let Shadowmoth interfere with our date plans."