#WIP Folder Game

[savethepinecones]

WIP game: psych ghost gus au

ooh okay so gus is a ghost and shawn is actually psychic on top of having his observational skills. basically shawn still picks up on clues but any time gus adds vital info its technically a legit psychic thing. gus is the only ghost shawn can interact with (think like "spirit guide" type stuff). gus is still afraid of ghosts

[artsarasp]

(Oh god I hope I’m doing this right🫠) uuuummm ask game with “SOMETHING sy and bingge” ???? I love your art and writing so much it makes me crazy 😔😔😔

You're doing great and I love u, Thank u so much <3

"SOMETHING sy and bingge" is a little one-shot I wrote where SY from syonr meets Bingge in a dream!

I think I can share the whole thing since I'm probably not gonna add anything to it- please forgive the nonexistent grammar, I'm too tired to fix it.

Shen Yuan wasn't aware that he wasn't simply dreaming. 

He might have been. 

If he hadn't left his system on silent, the notification of a brand new side quest would have been a giveaway. 

But as it stood now, he had no clue anything was amiss when the beautiful, dark-haired figure he only remembered from his fanmade posters back home stood in front of him.

Luo Binghe. 

It wasn't his Binghe, his friend was still shorter than him at this point and his demon heritage was still firmly locked away. The man in front of him was- Wow! Truly out of the final chapters of Proud Immortal Demon Way! 

Tall and Handsome, his curly dark hair cascading on his shoulders artfully and framing his face perfectly, letting his shiny zuiyin peek from behind his locks just enough to paint, overall, unfairly beautiful picture. 

No wonder every woman fell into the guy's bed! Who wouldn't?

Shen Yuan couldn't help a little squeal of excitement when he spotted Xin Mo– Xin Mo! Was in his hands! He could act a little excited about it, it was a dream after all! He didn’t have to hold back his inner fanboy 

“Can I hold Xin Mo?” He asked before Luo Binghe could say anything. 

Shen Yuan had paid no mind to how the man had been staring at him until then, his mind probably couldn't come up with more cool things to have this perfect copy of Binghe do. 

Just existing was cool enough!

But now that he was waiting for an answer he paid more attention to the movements of the demon emperor. Luo Binghe seemed startled by the request. He looked down at the sword, then back at Shen Yuan. 

“You know its name. “ He said. 

Shen Yuan scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Of course I know its name! It's the strongest sword in the world!” What sort of question was this? Brain please make the cool Binghe of his dreams not make dumb questions. 

Luo Binghe's eyes narrowed, then he stepped closer to Shen Yuan. 

He was huge compared to him in his stupid teen body. Shen Yuan might have stepped back if he were awake simply because Luo Binghe's presence was the sort that made you want to shrink back in fear. 

But it was only a dream! It was his favorite character in front of him, in all his glory! He couldn't help the grinning from ear to ear. 

Binghe seemed… confused by this. 

Shen Yuan hummed, still waiting for an answer. He thought, maybe this version of Binghe was slightly influenced by how he saw his own Binghe. This close up, If he looked at him right, with just a tilt of his head to the side he could spot tiny details this version of Binghe shared with his friend. 

Despite the age difference they made the same expression when they were confused, their eyebrows creased in the same way, their eyes darted to the side then back down like always. It made him smile more. 

“Do you know it's cursed? “ Luo Binghe asks. 

“Duh!” He has to roll his eyes again. Really, brain. What sort of questions are you making him ask? “ It's only a dream, what harm can it do?” He says instead. 

Binghe keeps staring at him but this time Shen Yuan is not able to read that expression, it's not like any his friend has shown before. Then a smile paints itself on the demon's face. 

“You can hold the sword if you answer some questions I have.” He says. 

Shen Yuan grimaces. Not even in his dreams can he just have a cool thing! Knowing his brain, Binghe is gonna ask him to recite that poem he's been struggling to copy down in calligraphy class. ugh. 

“Okay, but no questions on the curriculum!” 

Ah, there's that confused expression again. that's funny. 

Binghe clears his throat. 

“Are you Shen Jiu?”

Shen yuan blinks. Who's that supposed to be now? Ah, wasn't that Shen Qingqiu’s name before ascension? bah, it didn't matter!

 “No, That's Shizun. I'm Shen Yuan. Let me hold the sword now” He reached for the hilt but Binghe simply raised it out of his reach. Then he had the nerve to look amused. 

Look at you already abusing your height A-Luo! 

“I said questions.” He mocked. “Do you recognize me? You don't seem scared.”

What sort of interview was this? He crossed his arms. 

“How many questions? Give me a number!” He wasn't about to have his dream end before being able to hold the sword!

The demon smiled. “A thousand.”

“Eh?! That's so unfair, Binghe!” Shen Yuan cried “I'm gonna wake up before even reaching half of that! Heartless! “

The demon seemed even more amused at the teen's outburst. 

Then the hilt of Xin Mo was presented to Shen Yuan. 

He let out an undignified squeal again and reached for the sword. only to have it yanked back up before he could touch it again. 

Unfair!!! He was being bullied by the hot future version of his best friend!!! 

“I changed my mind, I don't want to hold Xin Mo.” He pouted. 

A small laugh left the demon emperor. 

—

Luo Binghe was known across the three realms as the immortal demon emperor. 

He was known by now for taking what he wanted.

 In his search for his “Nice Shizun” he hadn’t thought he’d find so many different versions of him. Sometimes his nice shizun wasn’t his shizun at all. Sometimes it was a nice shishu, sometimes it was a nice stranger, sometimes it was a nice shidi.

This “Nice Shizun” seemed to be the main variant missing from his life, every other world he visited had some version of it, only his didn’t. 

Why, he couldn’t understand. But he wouldn’t wallow in how unfair his life was, he’d stopped doing that when he first hit the bottom of the abyss.

He just needed to find the perfect nice Shizun to steal for himself. Have another version of himself suffer like he did. it would only be fair. 

Maybe the nice Shidi could work.

[teaandjumpers]

undercover fic from WIP game 👉👈

Sorry this is a little late anon, but I didn't have anything for this when you asked!

Obi-Wan is sent undercover on behalf of the Kaminoans to bid for a contract to mine a new development on a far-flung desert planet. He's playing a roguish negotiator type. Anakin is playing a bartender where the meetings are held. Long story short, another bidder takes a liking to Anakin and gets handsy. Obi-Wan steps in and basically says that he's already procured Anakin's services for the rest of his stay and from then on Anakin has to pretend to be Obi-Wan's pleasure companion.

- - - -

Anakin let out a huff of air from his nose, frustrated. 

Obi-Wan was never going to leave marks with that light of a grip. He pulled at his Master’s wrist, dislodging the other man’s hold on his neck. 

“If you can’t do it,” Anakin said, clearing his throat. “I’ll do it myself. I’ve done it before.”

Obi-Wan’s face paled, and a pained expression flashed across his face as a sharp pulse of guilt flooded the Force. 

“Padawan.”

“Don’t, Obi-Wan,” said Anakin, placing his mechno-hand around his own neck. “It has nothing to do with you. And if you’re not gonna help, I’d rather do this without an audience.”

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, his brows furrowing as he appeared to consider something. 

Silently, he pulled Anakin’s hand from his throat and replaced it with his own, the grip firm and secure. 

“If it gets to be too much, you tell me,” he said, eyes locked on his. 

And then he squeezed. 

Not too tightly, not at first. 

But the pressure grew, and as it did, Anakin tried his best to keep his excitement buried. He had never thought, never let himself think, that this—that his Master would choke him. 

But here he was, Obi-Wan’s broad calloused hand pressing against the curve of his throat, the pressure near-perfect, making him feel what he always felt when someone got this right.

Quiet. Bliss. Lust.

[crazy-ache]

BODY SWAP I’m literally so excited for this one you have no idea

Hahaha I am too, I just wish I had made more progress on it! I have been working on other projects but I definitely plan to bring this one back soon.

The full snippet for the Body Swap AU!Elucien can be found here.

This is a very rough draft of a small scene I had planned to include in that chapter:

“You don’t trust me to sleep on my own?” Lucien gestured to himself, though it was Elain’s hand pressed incredulously upon her chest. He drew it away instantly to his sides when he saw Elain’s indignant, withering stare at what he had brushed upon. 

“It’s my body, why should I trust you?” Elain snapped back at him. She had twisted his male face into something…pouty. A flustered, worked-up Elain was rather adorable, even if he was staring at his blushing features.

“Why?” Lucien cocked his head at her. He wasn’t used to having to look upward to converse with others. His mate was shorter than he had realized. “Are you worried about all the scandalous, provocative things I’ll do to it once I’m alone with it?” 

She sputtered at his implications. It was said as a joke, though it hadn't landed as much. Lucien poked one of his dainty fingers on Elain’s firm chest. 

“Perhaps I should be worried about what you’ll do when you get your paws on my body tonight.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lucien,” Elain huffed and placed her fisted hands on her hips. 

He wanted to laugh at the image of himself. Hands-on-hips, pouting, and practically stomping his foot. 

But he also had to remember how absurd the situation was, especially to someone less familiar with the boundless mischief of magic. He felt terrible they were in this predicament at all.

Lucien sighed. “We could both spend the night at my apartment in Velaris. At least to discuss our plan further and get some rest. It’s probably wiser if we don’t separate, otherwise we risk the others finding out.” 

Relief flooded over her features. Elain nodded, pleased with the plan. 

“We’ll need a cover story,” she said with a grimace. 

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

Okay WHAT is Oh look it's Gilgamesh

wip game post here!

oooouuugh yay ok i was hoping someone would ask about this one. it’s a modern au binggeyuan inspired by this post i made a billion years ago.

i’m in the exploratory phase of this one too, but i’ve been putting a lot more work into it lately bc it has become my 2025 writing goal lmao. i’ll talk abt it under the cut :D

…so i just finished writing and it’s a little longer than i anticipated. tl;dr: what if satan from the actual literal bible crawled out of hell and told the pope that he wanted to be friends now because there’s something much worse than himself down there.

so the idea is that luo binghe is a mythological figure somewhat like gilgamesh or odysseus but ‘evil.’ he’s a heavenly demon who, after countless cruelties, decided to take his revenge on the world by inflicting that cruelty a thousandfold. the stories go that he was born in a bid to broker peace between the demons and the humans, but huan hua’s palace master tried to sabotage sxy’s pregnancy and wound up killing her. tlj, in his grief, allowed himself to be captured by human cultivators so that he could plot his revenge in peace.

then we get lbh’s life, being cast into the abyss, coming back and taking his revenge. just when he and his father are about to merge the realms, the human cultivators sacrificed themselves to seal him, his father, and the entire demonic realm behind impossibly powerful arrays. the abyss and demon realm have merged, but the human realm is safe. to protect humanity, the few remaining cultivators hid knowledge of the jianghu and the secrets of cultivation, which explains why there are no immortal cultivators anymore.

there are legends and books and movies and operas retelling this story, always celebrating the heroic cultivators who sacrificed their lives for the rest of humanity and vilifying the endless cruelty of the demons. shen yuan has heard these stories since he was a little kid. you know how some kids have their ancient egypt phase? sy had a ‘myths about luo binghe’ phase, and it never ended. when the story starts, he’s a doctoral candidate writing his dissertation reconstructing luo binghe as a real historical person (which he was) and finding the real events that inspired the myths. he’s been officially working on it for five years at this point, but the dude really started when he was like 12. he kind of despises some of the retellings of luo binghe’s story, because they all vilify him with no compassion, and he feels binghe’s story is less a triumph of humanity and more a tragedy on all sides.

there is no retelling he hates more than proud immortal demon way. the author caricaturizes luo binghe and uses his story to sell shitty porn cranked out at an inhuman pace, and shen yuan thinks it’s despicable. he has to read every chapter just so he knows what this piece of shit author is doing to his favorite character. that’s the only reason why.

at one point, shen yuan is interviewing some people associated with the supposed descendants of the four great sects in the legends, and while he’s there, there’s an earthquake. someone rushes in wielding an actual real life sword? a real sword. that’s glowing a little bit? maybe shen yuan got hit on the head… but no that sword is definitely glowing a little bit. and he says ‘the seal has cracked.’

suddenly the stories aren’t stories anymore, and shen yuan doesn’t know how to keep his nose out of things—he wants to be there if/when luo binghe comes out. right now it’s just monsters, and it turns out the so-called cultivators were…real cultivators. and they’re fighting abyssal beasts.

they expect luo binghe to emerge commanding armies of demons and beasts as he demands his revenge on humanity, but instead he fights his way out, a crazed look in his eye, and insists that he’s going to help the cultivators seal the rift. he won’t take no for an answer. he refuses to allow those beasts to destroy humanity.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

The ALT POV of the Wigmaker Job from the WIP folder 🙏

WIP Folder Game

Dialogue by Courtney Woods, based on “The Wigmaker Job” by Courtney Woods, in Tevinter Nights.

Illario’s cousin never changed. He took job after job after job, rarely stopping for a rest. Their grandmother’s orders rang constantly through Lucanis’s mind, and Illario could barely predict the few times that Lucanis would choose his little rebellions against the First Talon. The only guarantee was that it would be inconvenient for Illario.

Said cousin had planned this job: an attack on a prominent Venatori at an event that was the highlight of Vyrantium's social season. Of course, Lucanis had rented the top floor of a terrible inn, from which Illario could hear terrible music rising from the floorboards above the terrible tavern. Lucanis now sat on a hard wooden block with his weapons arranged on the bed in front of him, adding to the screeching strings of the music below with the sound of sharpening stone against steel.

On the bright side, it was clean enough that pests getting into Illario’s luggage were only moderately likely. His favourite piece was also likely to have blood on it by the end of the evening, but for now he admired the craftsmanship in the Minrathous-inspired collar and the surrounding details. The stamped navy velvet was accented with black silk, and the fine gold embroidery tumbled across his shoulders in an explosion and faded into delicate stars that fell across his midsection. The layer below the main tunic was a shimmering gold that peeked from between vents in the fabric as he walked.

Lucanis wore black.

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” asked Illario, resigned. The leather coat over a black suit may have been inconspicuous at any other event, but even then it would make him look like a servant.

Illario hated having options closed to him during a job.

“At least I don’t look like a tourist,” said the other assassin, with the faintest trace of humour in his voice.

“No, you look like you’re attending a funeral.”

“Very funny,” said Lucanis, all traces of humour gone, returning to the state of natural killing machine that Illario could tell had been killing him for years. “It’s a job. Not a party.”

“Actually,” Illario corrected, carefully checking his rogueish facial hair had the desired effect. “It’s a job at a party. Might as well look our best.”

“Any excuse to primp.”

Illario snapped his straight razor shut, hating how Lucanis sometimes sounded like their grandmother. He knew what he was good at, he completed his contracts, and they both looked down on him for that. “I’m only here because of you,” he pointed out. “We should be halfway home by now. Only ‘the Great Lucanis Dellamorte’ could delay a summons from the First Talon herself.”

Shuffling from the other side of the room, visible in the mirror. “Catarina can hardly complain,” said Lucanis, oblivious to how anyone else would suffer for saying so. “She’s the one who beat me into my commitment to my contracts.”

And here they stood, the next generation. From the cradle to the grave in Catarina’s shadow.

“All that effort and training grooming us,” he mused, “And the old woman still won’t step aside.”

“Your time will come.”

Lucanis said it like it was fact. Lucanis had been saying it for years. Lucanis had been convincing, for the longest time.

“Will it?” Illario asked, meeting Lucanis’s eyes in the mirror and willing him to understand. “People talk. You’ve always been her favourite.” You’re the only one who can tell her no.

“My talents lie elsewhere,” Lucanis said, holding up a hand and turning it over to indicate the sword and half dozen-odd daggers, now newly-sharpened. “You’re the one with the silver tongue.”

Illario didn’t want to know.

Illario needed to know.

“So, if she named you heir to House Dellamorte,” asked Illario, “You’d refuse?”

Lucanis went still, and Illario felt a flash of anger at the delay. All Lucanis knew how to do was delay, and this wasn’t a topic they could cover at home.

“Lucanis?” he pressed.

Before Lucanis moved, Illario had already realized that this was the wrong kind of stillness. His cousin had moved into the wire-taut sensory mode of a predator that meant that somebody was about to die.

His own blood rose in response, and as Lucanis reached for his sword, Illario pulled a knife from his sleeve. Illario heard a creak from the hallway and Lucanis motioned to him.

Illario said something about the quality of the hotel and the food, and Lucanis quipped back, “You ordered an Antivan dish in Tevinter. What did you expect?” He’d barely grumbled something back by the time Lucanis silently reached the wall of their room and plunged his entire sword through it—and through the Venatori eavesdropping on the other side.

Well, Illario considered, Now that sword might actually need sharpening.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

for the WIP game - fake dating...?

Thank you for the ask, mosiva~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I love the fake dating trope, so I wanted to try my hand at it.

I haven't figured out the framing exactly (beginnings are usually difficult for me, I need to know where I have to drive the bus before I can get the start going), but Tom is having more trouble gathering power than he did. Maybe it's because Muggles are seen as less of a threat, maybe it's because he doesn't have the same killer instinct without WWII fuelling him to amass power and control, maybe the Purebloods are lazy and content rather than power-hungry bigots -- for whatever reason, Tom's been out of Hogwarts for a few years and things aren't going his way.

Harry has just gone through an extremely messy, public breakup, in which his ex splashed his private life, including sexual and emotional details, all over the Daily Prophet. He's got the double lordship thing in addition to being the Man Who Conquered, so everyone wants to know and has an opinion, and he's feeling hurt and betrayed and a little fragile, because he'd thought the ex really cared about him and not his hero persona.

He asks Tom if he'd be willing to "date" Harry in a mutually beneficial arrangement: Tom gets to use Harry's status and connections, potentially widen his circle of influence among the Lighter families that don't typically pay him much mind, and Harry gets to use him as a charming meat shield against the invasive press and general public.

(Tom Riddle has a bit of a reputation as... not exactly a gigolo, but he's not afraid to use his looks and charms to get what he wants and be on the arm of rich and powerful people at important events. That being said, Harry's on a different level of power and celebrity than the more traditionalist families with whom Tom holds court.)

Harry ends up becoming a bit of a sugar daddy (he doesn't see it that way, he just has money to get Tom things he wants, so why not?).

It's probably going to be pretty predictable, but instead of falling in love, the arrangement ends up suiting them both well and they just keep it going. Tom rejigs his plans to fit with what Harry will support, and Harry appreciates Tom's crueler side when it's directed against his opposition.

“Why me?” Tom asks. “Why you? Haven’t you been listening–” “You’ve laid out why I should want this; why do you?” Harry’s eyes shy away from Tom’s, drifting off to the side. Well, this should be good. “You had– have, a reputation,” Harry starts haltingly. “For, uh, satisfied… partners.” “You’re allowed to say it, Potter: I’m good in the sack,” he says, smirking. Harry throws his hands up, landing his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. Unluckily for him, his flush is still visible through his fingers. “Flattery aside, I’m unsure why that would matter in this situation,” Tom adds. “Unless you were hoping for some first-hand experience–” “No! No, that’s not it.” The other man shifts uncomfortably. “It’s just… I figured if people are going to obsess over and make assumptions about my sex life anyway, they may as well assume I’m having good sex,” he mutters. Tom puts a pin in that admission. So, Harry’s first foray into the joys of sex was less than enjoyable, hmm?

[larvasmoon]

Darling!! ❤️

This is difficult, you know? I want to know more about all of them 😱

But I'm not familiar with "The way he makes love" soooo, tell me everything (or just a bit to spark even more my curiosity 😏).

Thank you my dear ❤️

By popular demand, here's a little snippet from "The way he makes love"! I'm answering to @pinkberrytea, @karinamay, @amoremagnificentbastard and @inkymoonbunny’s asks here as well! 💕

I've had this project in mind for a little while but I didn't really have enough time to explore much of it yet. I want to write a short fic in which Selene and Astarion meet in a modern setting. In this AU, Selene is a young artist tasked by critically acclaimed actor Astarion Ancunín to paint a vast fresco in his new Baldurian residence. But as the title suggests, her daily visits to the star's home quickly turn into something else...

I want to write more of Portrait of the pale elf before jumping into this one, but I’ll definitely get to it :))

[hyperions-light]

For the WIP folder ask game:

Lusacan snaps his neck

I gotta knowww

Thank you for asking! The WIP folder ask game is [here] ! 10, 11, 5 have been answered, someone has asked for 12!

Ohhh, this is the BadEnd!AU that @uchidachi wnd I were talking about, where Solas dies and possesses Rook

Very evil of me hehehe, also a Theater of Suffering WIP

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then Lucanis watches, in horror, as an ethereal purple light seems to emanate from Rook’s body. They rise from the ground, insensate. Lucanis fends off a frantic blow from Elgar’nan.

“Rook!” he calls, desperately, through the maelstrom that the battlefield has become.

They do not answer him.

For long moments they hang suspended in the air, inert, and then, in a blur, they vanish.

Lusacan screeches.

Blood pours from lacerations on its neck as a purple blur races upward; at the apex a spectral sword lances through the bottom of the Archdemon’s jaw, skewering its head.

Elgar’nan roars with furious despair.

The remaining fight does not last long; Rook seems to need little assistance in fending off Elgar’nan or landing their own blows. They kill him before anyone has time to cry out a warning about the Veil.

The sky begins to rend itself apart. Neve is trying to say something to Rook, but they are not listening; their eyes, glowing, are fixed on the sky.

They throw out a hand; the air— or something in the air— screams. Things seem to distort, rip; Rook walks to the edge of the platform they’re standing on and begins to speak Elvish, in an accent very unlike their own. The pressure and the noise around them intensifies; inside of him, Spite cowers, terrified of something.

[silentheiss]

text fic👀👀

i started posting this on tg but stopped for a while and only now picking it back up!

It’s a hualian text message fic! it’s really silly, here’s a snippet!

[the4rcanist]

Thanks @ofcrowsanddragons !, askbox wasn't toggled on for some reason lol

The Witch of Treviso

Lucanis x my Crow Rook Adryn, possessed by a spirit of Disruption, her power on the wheel would be to communicate with animals, based on that one single instance where Aneirin said he could talk to animals on Origins. This is part of what's going to be (if I finish) part of the chapter from Davrin's recruitment mission.

"The Wardens were right, the camp is not far. But the darkspawn are not the only thing roaming around and scaring the birds though."

Rook stood from her place perched on the rocks and released the bird back into the sky. It made a full circle, happily chirping, and returned to the treeline.

"So, it is true. I was curious."

Adryn turned around at the sound of his voice, face blank, motionless like a cat poised to strike. He noticed something. Disruption growled, coiling around her hands. The assassin had recently started to wonder if that was a reflection of how he was seen by the others.

"What?" the elf asked, tilting her head a little. It was a simple gesture, but the way she and the spirit moved together, so slowly and at the same time so swiftly, was unnervingly unnatural to him.

"A rumor. That Viago has a witch on his estate." Lucanis said, calmly. Adryn De Riva smiled, and he couldn't tell if it was genuine or a threatening show of teeth. Her eyes a pool of gold, an indication, he came to notice, that the spirit was listening too. "She can use blood magic to scry on his enemies. That's how he always knows everything that's happening everywhere he goes. They only confused the methods, it seems."

The woman cackled, bending over herself while losing completely her posture. The tension dissipated a little, and she beamed another smile. "Oh god, it got worse. I swear they keep adding things each time I hear it!" She came back, passing by him, giddy and flighty towards a low hollow tree on the rocky path beneath. "I guess...if we're working together, I should tell you." The elf whistled, and a small Jerboa came down from the tree towards her extended hand. "Do you have pets, Lucanis?"

Even for someone who wasn't used to talk about himself at all, that sounded like an odd question. "A snake".

Rook widened her eyes and giggled, musically, and the color returned to her eyes. "You too?" He, however, had to bite his tongue to not react to the appreciative sound the demon made in his head in response. "Do you refrain from talking about important things near it?" She cradled the small animal on her both gentle hands and brought it towards him.

"No" he stood stiff.

"On your last contract, do you remember every cat, every bird, every horse that came your way?" He frowned.

"I...don't".

"No one does" The woman sighed softly, running a thumb on the rodent's head. "This, however, is not blood magic" She extended her hand to him and the man simply stared back, puzzled. "Your hand. It's safe, I promise."

Lucanis took a few seconds to offer it. He didn't actually believed Rook meant any harm at him but couldn't shake the weariness he felt around magic, reflexively, sometimes even at "his" own.

Adryn gently cupped the small animal between both of their hands. Warm. A fleeting thought passed, somewhere, but he was fixated in listening, quietly, while she whispered a few unintelligible words. From such close distance, he could see her ice-colored eyes glowing softly with a yellow rim, the critter responded with a chittering sound, and the assassin remembered to breathe.

It is the spirit. She doesn't know. Spite added, with a tone much more contemplative than he thought possible.

"It was a witch, she lived in the slums at the docks, many many years ago, and taught me how to listen to them" The elf knelt again and released the little animal back into the tree "It's like talking with spirits, with emotions, impressions and fleeting glimpses of memories. I can see what they see, and they can tell me what they know. I still have to ask, so it figures why Viago drags me everywhere."

"What did it say?" Lucanis asked, indulging his curiosity.

"I saw our three Wardens, one of them was a mountain of armor!" She flailed her arms around, twirling. The assassin had to avert his eyes and bit back another smile he felt creeping in on the corner of his mouth. "They were accompanied by something that terrified the poor little guy, looked like a lion but he couldn't properly see. Let's go, Rowan must already be there."

"That's how you tracked the Dread Wolf to Minrathous?" He added another question.

"Part of, I gave what information I could to Harding, she connected the dots and made sense of everything. They don't realize it yet, but she and Neve are very much alike in this way." The woman returned to the path. "We quickly figured that even a god and his spies are at the mercy of the eyes of the vermins that everyone makes the point to look away."

"It sounds useful in our line of work" He shook his head, accompanying her pace towards the mountainside. A lot safer too. He could only imagine not having to rely on people for information and getting it twice as quickly. The Fifth Talon was right in keeping her out of sight. "Would surely save me a lot of headache".

"Looking to hire?" She didn't care to prevent her giddiness from bleeding into the question.

Yes. Spite shouted, coming to view at her side. The memory of the warmth he felt off her hand came back hitting him like a horse on gallop.

"If I was" His tone became a little lighter and Rook couldn't help but feel a little relieved. "What would be your cut?"

"If you keep making enough of that coffee for both of us, I'd do it for free" Adryn looked back playfully and, all of sudden, The Demon of Vyrantium, a feared legend by all of her fellow fledgelings, flustered if only by a little, started finding his feet much more interesting to look at.

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

@myulalie hi hi hi!!

Ok soooo “Malectober 4” is basically the fourth chapter of this fic I started for Malectober called “Black Queen”

And it’s basically about mob boss!Magnus who asks for fbi agent! Alec’s help with taking down his father ft. A whole lot of sexual tension

Here’s a lil snippet from the fourth chapter!!

“No, not really-” but before he could even finish speaking, Magnus was pressing the cigarette he'd been smoking against Alec's lips. Alec reflexively inhaled, surprised at the feeling of Magnus's fingertips flush against his lips, and broke out into a coughing fit.

Magnus was watching him out of careful hooded eyes as Alec doubled over, coughing out the smoke. He leant against the railing, cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

Alec took in a few deep breaths, slowly straightening as he recovered.

“It’s alright,” Magnus reassured coyly. “The first drag is the hardest.”

“Are you sure?” Alec asked, his voice hoarse. “I don’t see how it gets better.”

“It gets better.” Magnus took a long drag of the cigarette, leaning his head back as he exhaled, his eyes closed, a look of what seemed like bliss all over his face. “It gets so, so much better, Alexander.”

[artsarasp]

yqy with wings and depression? sounds FASCINATING

Ah ah! I have a little prompt list I was attempting to work on and one of the prompts was "angel au" I couldn't make angel work but the idea of giving YQY a pair of wings was too good to ditch. So technically he's some sort of winged demon here! He's still the sect leader, he just managed to become it by;

1- impressing the previous sect leader with the sheer audacity of trying to join his sect (he clocked him as a demon immediately)

2- not dying (more difficult than it seems)

He has so much more self-hatred which was difficult to achieve- have a peek.

He can break this door separating him from his Xiao-Jiu. He can use all his strength and tear it off its hinges– but then Xiao-Jiu would know.  He would know.  The screams of the children echo in his ears, “Demon! Demon! He's gonna eat us!” but Xiao-Jiu would never think of him that way. He… would never.  His claws dig into the wood of the door leaving deep cuts.  Yue Qi can picture Shen Jiu’s expression of pure hatred, the same one he wears when he looks at the slavers, and he can't bear the thought of that expression being aimed at him and being genuine.  His Xiao-Jiu wants to be a cultivator more than anything. How could he ever not look at him that way if he knew?  There's something fundamentally wrong with Yue Qi’s nature, he's always known that. However, if he wants to keep his Xiao-Jiu he's gonna have to fix that.  He's gonna have to bend his nature into something else, into something righteous.  “Xiao-Jiu I’m leaving. I’ll– I’ll go apply to a cultivation sect.”

[whatmattersisyou]

For the WIP game, Puqi Sunlight!

Hello!! Thank you for the ask :3

That's a WIP I've been having sitting there in my files and catching dust for a while 😅 it's an illustration of puqi shrine with some pretty sunlight set after Hua Cheng paints the flower crowned martial god. Hua Cheng's shadow should be visible from the open door where the light is coming from, and also Xie Lian should be still sleeping in a corner but I never got that far nfjdndk

WIP folder game!

[crazy-ache]

Iris flowers!

💜 I have a snippet for this oneshot. It is based on the idea that Lucien keeps gifting Elain different presents and she agonizes over their meanings. This is the opening.

His gifts often tormented her. 

It was to say, a compliment in its own right. Because gifts had always been Elain’s specialty; gifts were a challenge she relished. To secure the most perfect present for a particular someone. It was the searching, the tracing of faint lines of everything she knew about a person, to lead her directly to what would make them smile. Even in the desolation of their village, without a penny to their name, she did her best—paints for Feyre, carving knives for father, a book for Nesta. 

And here he comes, as he always does, with the nearly perfect gift in hand for his reluctant mate. In truth, every gift struck Elain true. Under any other circumstance, they would have delighted her. 

They weren’t perfect because the perfect gift was supposed to be derived from meaning—in intention. How could she let love what he gave her if it had only been done in duty to their shared bond? 

And so she stared at the fire-haired male before her, certain the hand behind his back brought that eternal suffering of politeness he always brought for her. 

“My lady, happy first day of Spring. It is not much, but I come bearing a small gift.” 

She clasped her hands. Lucien stepped forward, hesitant, but steady. A bouquet of purple irises.

Elain’s breath hitched, eyes wide at the blooming petals and thick green stalks. An indigo so deep it bordered on midnight, but they were tall and bursting upwards as if beckoning for light, light, more light. Specks of yellow dusted the buds, stark in their contrast, and she realized suddenly she had been staring, forcing Lucien closer to allow her to take the bundle in her small hands. 

“I did my best to ensure you did not already have these in your garden here.”

Her fingers reached for their thick stems. In the exchange, their fingers momentarily touched. 

A first. 

Her blush formed a necklace of red wrapped around her neck. Lucien smiled, taking a gentle step back as if to marvel at his handiwork. 

“I do hope they please you, most especially the meaning.” 

He gave her a nod as she buried her nose into the irises. He was out the door before she could respond. 

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

What on earth is "Haunted Doll Watch" that sounds like a really fun story 👀👀

wip game post here!

Haunted Doll Watch!! A hualian modern au: xie lian is a disgraced medium who was responsible for the destruction of his family’s company after being manipulated by a less-than-trustworthy spirit. he now runs a curios/supernatural shop.

shi qingxuan (douyin-famous medium) gifts him an old doll with a very assertive spirit, hoping that he can fix it up and they can feature it on their channel to give xl some positive publicity. the doll likes xl very much

snippet below the cut:

Bai Wuxiang was destroyed.

He repeated that truth to himself as he gathered his courage and crossed the shop. With trembling hands, he opened the bag and pulled out Qingxuan’s gift.

A doll. It was old and filthy, its clothes ragged and torn. Its face was cracked on the right side, and the eye was missing. Its hair might have been long, but it was terribly matted with who-knows-what. As he held it in his hands, Xie Lian took slow, deep breaths. The longer he studied it, the more distinct its spirit felt from Bai Wuxiang.

Where he was cold, this spirit had a warmth to it. It was very clearly powerful, but its energy was less dagger-precise like Bai Wuxiang’s, more wild. It filled the air, as if the spirit was reaching out to find the boundaries of the space around it.

Despite its overwhelming presence and its shabby appearance, the doll drew a small smile to Xie Lian’s face. Qingxuan was right; he was looking forward to repairing this vessel and helping the spirit find its rest.