#and now they know they have the capacity to do something like that and be used like that and they're scared

[gamerexdrex]

"Hey! Let me go you oversized lizard!" Screamed the farmer, struggling against your grip.

Honestly, if it wasn't to prove to the stuck ups at the council, you would have never bothered even looking twice at this human, much less putting up with her screeching; but alas, sacrifices must be made for your tesis.

But it's damn hard when the human has been biting at your fingers. You are not sure why she thought it was a good idea, it has only been bothering you and might hurt her teeth.

When you finally, FINALLY, make it to the old castle, your are about ready to sleep a hundred years; but it isn't the time! You need! To teach! The human!

You land on the patio of the castle, with plenty of space for practice, and gently put the raving human down.

"Listen human-"

WACK

The human somehow found a large stick in the five seconds you've been in this place and immediatly hit your eye.

You should have just horded gold like your mom

"Listen-"

WACK

"human-"

WACK

"do you-"

WACK

"want-"

WACK

"to learn-"

WACK

"magic"

She stops in her tracks, and looks at you confused. "Soooo you are not going to eat me"

Your eye twichs "If I wanted a meal, I would have eaten the king's whole army of horses"

"Oh"

There is a bit of awkard silence

"So when do we begin?" She beams

You smile

"When I finish taking a nap, give 5 minutes and we'll start."

.....

You scribble the runes yet again, and once again, nothing happens.

The dragon seems even more disappointed than before somehow.

"It should work now, I don't know how this is possible"

You stare and can't help but feel frustrated with yourself. it's supposed to work, you two have been trying up until sundown.

It's probably your fault nothing happens.

You can hear the dragon's voice above you "let's take a break, shall we? Maybe when our heads are clear, we'll find a solution"

You wonder if the dragon is either very positive or very stubborn

After a fire and a couple of sheep the dragon got from...somewhere for dinner, you stare at the stars. You don't think you've seen this constelations before

"I'm sorry"

You turn to the dragon, surprised.

"I brought you here against your will, told you I would teach you magic, and we have yet to get a reaction from the runes" He lowers his head "So I apologise little human"

After a moment of shock, you smile sadly "It's alright, I guess I just wasn't cut out for this"

"Don't say that human; acording to my research, every human has the capacity to channel magic; and we did everything right"

You bite your cheek "If you say so" you look over the runes "what does it say anyways?"

You don't notice the dragon freezing in place but you do notice when he speaks up

"What"

Confused, you turn to him "well, yes? I don't know what we are writing so..."

He stares some more "Isn't this common knowledge? There are books written by you humans! That's how I know you could do magic!"

Is your turn to stare

"Quick question, how are those books?"

"There are just a little over a hundred yea-" the dragons stops and, after processing the imformation a bit, slams his head on the ground.

"I forgot to account human ages, of course I did"

You sit besides the dispairimg dragon "Soooo I assume meaning and understaning are important for magic"

"Mhm" He answers, head still on the ground "We've been writing the true names of spirits and powerful beings. You summon or imbude the strenght of those entities by writing them on this language. But it only works if the entity is understood to be powerful."

You ponder for a bit, and run to grab your big stick

"Can you tell me your name?"

The dragon looks up "huh?"

"Or at leats how it would be written in that weird old language, I have an idea"

The dragon looks at you a bit more, shrugs, and begins writing on the ground with it's claw

You carve the runes on the stick, now with the understanding that this is the name of your teacher.

Once finished, you looked at the letters and something odd happens. They begin to shine.

You aim at the sky, and a blast of purple light comes out of the tip of it, so strong that it send you flying. You are caught by the dragon. The hairs of your neck are standing up.

There is silence

"Y-you did it"

"I did it"

"YOU DID IT"

"I DID IT"

You both begin to laugh, of delight, of satisfaction, of relief, of excitement.

You did it

The other dragons laughed when you shared your thesis that humans should be capable of learning magic. Infuriated, you fly off to capture a human and teach it the ways of magic.

[zvdvdlvr]

Take Care of You + Silco

Synopsis. After an argument with Jinx, you comfort Silco as best as he’ll let you.

A/n. I want to start a series of Silco x jinx’s eldest sister!reader. Let me know what you think :p

You’d heard through the grapevine that Jinx had gotten into an argument with Silco. Now, doing odd jobs all around the Undercity (sometimes being recruited in the bright, shining streets of Piltover), you couldn’t do anything to calm your youngest sister’s mind when you were miles away. 

When you did get home though, you immediately greeted the bouncers of The Last Drop with an exhausted smile and asked how bad he was doing.

The guy on the right- Cassin, if you remembered correctly- sighed. “It’s a relief to see you,” is all he said. You grimaced, knowing it had to be bad. “Jinx left about five hours ago and it’s been getting worse and worse. For everyone’s sake…”

Verin- the man on the left- finished, “Go talk to him.”

You nodded. “Have a good night, boys,” you told them as they pulled open the door. They replied with their usual ‘you too, ma’am’.

It was late enough. You signaled the bartender and told him to shut the bar down and start helping people out.

“Good evening,” you say in greeting after stepping into Silco’s office.

Silco doesn’t reply. He simply lights his cigar and daces the window, letting his other arm fall limply to the side. He reaches a hand up to brush back his hair.

You drop your bag of coins on the couch as you make your way over to him. Silco, to put it lightly, was out of touch with his emotions. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to communicate with Powder- Jinx, as she had called herself after the night everything fell apart.

You were Powder and Violet’s older sister- the eldest daughter of Felicia and Connol. The enforcer, the empath, the scapegoat, and the vessel of unconditional love: all in one body. After the explosion that blew up the building, you remember pulling your crushed leg from underneath the rubble. Hobbling down to see Powder weeping over Vander’s body. Violet was nowhere in sight.

“Powder!” You called, limping toward her.

The little blue-haired girl tackled you in a leap and brought you to your ass. You stifled a painful, gutteral scream as your bad leg twisted even further. Powder latched onto you, staining your shirt with her tears. You leaned your head back on the cold, cold pavement and let yourself cry.

The building was still crackling with fire. You didn’t even hear them until you opened your eyes and saw him. Him.

You unsheathed the blade from your belt and pulled yourself as far from him as you could with a lame leg and with Powder mourning in your arms. “Stay away.”

Silco raised his arms to show he was weaponless. “Let me help you, y/n.”

You glared at him sharply. “What do you know about us?” When Silco took a step forward, you waved your knife in the air. He swallowed, but stayed back.

“I know you’ve been taking the blame for your sisters’ actions for your entire life. I know that you are an astounding individual with the capacity to hold your ground,” Silco gestured towards a sniffling Powder. “As well as the the smarts to recognize when you are in a situation where you cannot protect yourself or… her.”

You sneer at him. “You talk pretty, but I’m careless enough to give myself up to give her a chance.”

Silco just tilted his head. “But we know you won’t do that,” he said. “You’ve already imagine the outcome.”

You drop your arm. And when the blade clatters to the ground, so does your facade. The man approaches you, slowly- like he knows you want him to. “Let me help you, y/n.”

His eyes gleam in the light. Like two bright neon signs. Like the ones that light up Vander’s bar. You are caught in his gaze like his prey: right where he wants you. Something stirs in your belly- something unfamiliar and dangerous and… yearning.

Vander scooped you up like Silco did once. Only Violet and Powder had the luxury of being carried around. Vander loved you- that much was true, but you craved the same treatment as your sister instead of being the rational, eldest daughter everyone expected.

But as Silco slid his arms under you and carried you against his chest, you felt the feeling in your gut grow. Powder had fallen asleep against your breasts and you grit your teeth to prevent you from crying out from the pain in your leg. As the lean, muscled man led you further into the night, you looked up to see his bright eyes flicker from your bruised body to the night ahead of you as though he’d been caught.

“What can I do?” You ask him, wrapping your arms around his waist and letting your cheek press to the fabric of his clothes. He relaxes into you slightly, wearily snuffing out his cigar.

He stares out of the window for another long moment. The green illuminated the room, giving him the dramatic flair he loves so much. “I do not know what to say to her.” He turns into you, eyebrows knitted. “I… I feel like the only ome she listens to is you. She- I don’t know how to talk to her. I don’t lnow what to say. She argues so much when all I want,” he looks off, eyes clouding as he thinks of what to say. Your hands cup his face tenderly. “All I want is you. Both of you.”

His guilty whispered admission makes your heart swell. Silco has fumbled over actions and doesn’t quite know what to say to young Jinx, but he means well. “I know, Sil. She’s just… growing up. My baby sister just wants you to trust her. She’ll come back when she’s ready and- and we can all talk, yeah? Powder just needs time to cool down.”

Silco’s eyes search your pink ones. “Your rationale is incredible.”

You smile. “I’m a woman, Silco. I’ve been in her position before.”

“That too,” Silco relents with a tight smile. “How is your leg?”

You shrug. “Not like I can feel it.”

A few weeks after Silco had taken you in, your leg had gotten infected. Desperate to save you, you were taken to Singed. The muscle had a festering infection bad enough to required amputation. Eventually, the blood loss was bad enough that Shimmer was required to stabilize you. All in all, the operation was taxing on all parties involved and had put a damper on Powder’s relationship with Silco because she thought he was the one that infected her. 

Silco thought he may have cried with relief when you finally opened your eyes and soothed him with the knowledge that you were okay.

Another week later and you were getting the best prosthetics money could buy, thanks to Silco. Powder had insisted she be by your side every metaphorical and literal step of the way. 

These days, your leg ached because of the work you kept yourself busy with. Against Silco’s wishes, of course. You knew he didn’t like when you left. Everyone knew Silco didn’t like when you were just two rooms away from him. He was protective, possessive… He felt love. Stupid, passionate, unexpected love. You knew he loved you and you loved him too.

And with you constantly on your feet doing work you didn’t need to do, Silco worried. Or maybe that was just because he wanted an excuse to see you every moment of every day.

“Hey, let me take care of you for once,” you told him when he arched an eyebrow at you. A laugh spilled from your lips when Silco- as he routinely does- pulls your baggy pants up to your thigh and detaches the prosthetic limb just above your knee. Then, he pulls you into his arms, your familiar weight grounding him and reminding him of why he does what he does: for you and your sister.

Silco scoffs. “You take care of me by simply being around me. Besides, I am quite fond of carrying you to bed.” His tone lightens at the end of his innuendo and his bright eyes flicker to you. “But… if you wanted to repay my overwhelming affection and respect-“

When Silco lies you down on the bed, you waste no time in pulling him harshly onto you by the collar. “-then you know how to be good for me, don’t you, y/n?” Silco purrs out the end of his sentence. He slots his thigh between your legs and dominates your kisses.

[pumpkennpie]

landoscar, sex toys please!!

oh amelia, a woman after my own heart!!

landoscar + sex toys for this kink meme list! wc 1142 (oops)

“Fuck, Lando, please,” Oscar keens, hands fisted in the sheets so hard that his knuckles are turning white. He fucks himself down on Lando’s fingers, rolling his hips to make the digits brush against the lovely little spot that makes him see stars.

“God, you’re so easy for it, huh?” Lando laughs, a wonderment weaving through his words that Oscar does not have the mental capacity to unravel right now.

“Easy for you,” Oscar replies, heady and breathless. He knows he’s playing into Lando’s possessive streak, but he’ll do anything if it means finally getting something bigger than Lando’s three fingers in him.

“Fuck, okay.” 

Oscar squeezes his eyes shut, whining when Lando pulls his fingers out. There, in the darkness behind his eyelids, his other senses are heightened. He can feel every movement Lando makes on the bed as if they share a body, and the smell of sex is heavy in his nostrils.

Maybe that’s why he jumps when a low buzzing sound breaks through the silence.

“‘M just checking it’s charged first. We’ll go slow, okay?” Lando assures, running the back of his hand over the skin behind Oscar’s knee. 

Oscar cracks his eyes open and nearly comes at the sight in front of him.

Lando is on his knees between Oscar’s parted thighs, naked save for a pair of skin tight black boxers. His hair is mussed from where Oscar’s hands had been gripping it while Lando blew him, and there’s a pink flush high on his cheeks, muted from his tan but so telling to the state he’s in. He’s hard, the long line of his cock visible through his boxers. There’s a damp patch at the tip, and Oscar fights the urge to sit up and mouth at him through the fabric.

But the thing that makes Oscar shiver with anticipation is the object in Lando's hand. It’s the toy he bought while drunk and lonely, waiting for Lando to come back from galivanting across Greece with Fewtrell. It's smooth with gentle curves, longer than his own cock, but thinner. More precise, he supposes.

Lando had giggled when he first saw it, not because he was judging Oscar for the purchase, but because the vibrator is jarringly hot pink. Oscar had just blushed and told Lando that it was the only one left in stock.

Oscar watches raptly as Lando uncaps the lube and pours it over the tip of the toy. Some of it drips off, landing right on Oscar’s leaking cock. It’s cold, but the shock it sends through him is intoxicating.

Hmm. File that one away for later.

“Alright, ready?” Lando asks, shifting closer to Oscar and lifting one of Oscar’s legs over his shoulder.

Oscar is so exposed like this, splayed open for Lando to see the most intimate parts of him. Oscar kind of never wants to be clothed again if it means Lando will always look at him like this, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, like he’s something holy. Made to be worshipped.

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes.

The first press of the toy against his hole isn’t much different to Lando fucking into him. It’s not as warm, but it’s blunt, a dull pressure that only leaves Oscar wanting more.

“I’m good, you can-” Oscar’s words break into a moan when Lando pushes the vibrator in. It’s a better stretch than Lando’s fingers- not as good as his cock, but enough to make him grin through it.

Lando sets a steady, slow rhythm, watching Oscar’s face intently. Oscar knows he must look a mess right now, flushed red from the tips of his ears to the tip of his cock. He’s unbearably hard, brought right to the edge by Lando’s mouth earlier before being fingered open for what felt like eons. 

The tip of the toy is curved, and within a minute, Lando has figured out the exact speed and depth he needs to push into Oscar to hit his prostate with every stroke. Soon enough, Oscar is panting, rutting his hips to get- he doesn’t even know. Closer? Maybe. 

More. He needs more.

“Lando, please, turn it on,” he all but begs, one of his hands leaving the sheets to grip Lando’s bicep.

Lando is nothing if not merciful. 

Even though he knows it’s coming, the first hum of vibration jolts through him like electricity. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt; sharp and all-consuming, both too much and not enough. 

His body can’t decide if it wants to pull away or push into it, so it does both. His hips jerk up off of the mattress, and the leg propped over Lando’s shoulder tightens, pulling him in closer. The toy pushes in deeper, and the vibration brushes his prostate.

Oscar might scream- he’s too far gone to recognize the sounds he’s making. He’s babbling, rushed together syllables that create a steady stream of yesmorepleasefuck.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” Lando praises, turning his head to the side to nip at the inside of Oscar’s thigh.

He feels hot and cold, shivering and sweaty. Feverish. Lando turns the vibration up, and the sensation teeters right on the line of perfect and too much.

Oscar can’t feel his limbs. Lando is pressing the vibrator into him, keeping it there longer with each stroke until he’s barely pulling out. Oscar grinds his hips down, and Lando gets the hint. He begins moving the toy around in little circles, near constant brushes of vibration against Oscar’s prostate that has him curling his toes and clenching his jaw.

It’s so overwhelming, this unrelenting stimulation, that he doesn’t realize he’s going to come until it’s happening.

There’s fire running through his veins, something bright and burning that whites out his vision as he bears down on the toy. His cock spurts against his stomach, and Oscar is distantly aware of come landing on his collarbone.

He's coming, untouched. It’s the most intense thing he’s ever felt.

“Fuck, Oscar, oh my god.” Lando’s voice is coming back to him in waves, hot pulses as he comes down from his high. 

The sensation returns to his limbs slowly, a tingle that starts in his fingers and toes and runs through his muscles until he’s shaking with it. He opens his eyes just in time to watch Lando come, groaning as he spills over Oscar’s spent cock. 

Oscar’s not sure when Lando slipped the toy out of him, but he’s glad that he did it soon enough to not overstimulate him. There’s only so much Oscar can take in one night, and this might fill that quota for a few days.

Lando gently drops Oscar’s leg back to the bed before flopping down next to him. When his body stops bouncing on the plush mattress, he turns his head and smiles wide at Oscar.

“Good?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

[mcytegg]

as a zamcvit enjoyer im winning now i think. the roles have reversed. 4c is the one yearning for zam now ^-^

[starrysturnz]

where the love light gleams

pairing. vampire!matt sturniolo x human!reader

summary. matt hasn’t celebrated a holiday in decades. a lonely, unfulfilling existence is nothing to be cheerful about, in his book. but there’s something different about this particular christmas— he’s not quite so lonely anymore.

warnings. mention of the death of a parent, an unserious joke about domestic violence, somewhat sensual toward the end?? angst if you smear this fic on a glass slide and look at it through a microscope.

word count. 1k

author’s note. OKAY SO i apologize for the fact that the only fic from this countdown that was posted on time was the first one… 20% success rate :D basically i’ve learned to pre-write anything i plan to release on a specific date lol. anyways i was traveling and then i got sick sooo not ideal conditions to focus on writing. thanks for sticking with me on this tho! i hope u like this one as much as i do!! kisses :3

masterlist | taglist | starrysturnz’s christmas countdown

© starrysturnz. all rights reserved. dividers by @cafekitsune.

it was the perfect evening. firewood crackling in its hearth, the smell of half-baked cookies wafting in from the kitchen, and polar express playing on the tv as y/n lay cuddled up under her favorite fuzzy blanket with her boyfriend, matt.

his fingers toyed lazily with her (admittedly, ugly) sweater as she laid her temple against his shoulder. tilting her head up to admire his face— his strong jaw, his striking eyes— she said, “i can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie before. it’s a classic.”

his head turned slowly to face her, eyes lagging behind on the screen for a second before speaking, “just never really been into christmas movies, i guess.”

there was a hint of something hidden in his voice… amusement, maybe? like he knew something she didn’t. y/n got that vibe from him occasionally— like she was on the receiving end of an inside joke that she wasn’t a part of— but she mostly chose to ignore it. today, however, the urge to pry won her over.

“how come? your family didn’t celebrate holidays growing up or something?”

it was an innocent question, matt knew. he’d expected she might be intrigued by his utter lack of knowledge regarding common christmas traditions. this was their first big holiday together, and she was entitled to some curiosity. but he couldn’t tell her the truth… yet. it wasn’t exactly the time.

besides, the honest answer was a real mood killer— how could he tell her he’d spent the better part of the last century avoiding holiday festivities at all costs? that he didn’t see any reason to celebrate his miserable, cursed existence? way too much explaining, so not enough time. plus, it made him seem all dark and self-loathing, and while yeah, that might’ve been the case, he felt it was far too accurate to edward from the twilight franchise… and being compared to that idiot in any capacity made him want to stake himself.

so instead, he offered her his prepared answer: “no, no, it’s not that. just, i dunno… my mom passed around the holidays when i was young, and it sort of overshadowed the magic of it all, y’know?”

it was the perfect fib— just dark enough to be believable without leaving room for any follow-up questions. and it’s not like it was a total lie; matt’s mother really had died around christmas when he was a boy, and it did put a damper on his holiday spirit.

y/n’s expression softened into one of genuine empathy, and she mustered her best comforting smile. “’m sorry. that must’ve been really difficult.”

“’s okay, that was a long time ago. besides, now i get to experience all your creepy CGI movies for the first time right next to you, so it all worked ou— hey!”

matt rubbed the assaulted spot on his arm as if her little swat had actually hurt at all. (truthfully, he suspected that not even a human would’ve been bothered by her attack.)

“i’ll have you know this movie is a staple from my childhood,” she stated matter-of-factly. “so be nice, or else next halloween i’m making you watch monster house.”

⁺⁎˚

“the cookies should be ready by now, don’t y’think, love?” matt asked, nudging his girlfriend ever so gently in the ribs, making her giggle. “i might not be a christmas expert, but santa can’t visit if the place has burned down, can he?”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll go get them, you stay here,” she ordered.

moments later, y/n was padding back into the living room on her bare tiptoes— the only part her leg warmers didn’t cover— with a decorative reindeer plate full of warm strawberry jam cookies, lightly dusted with powdered sugar. she situated herself back under the blanket, setting the plate on her lap.

matt, eager to try one of the delicacies, reached for the one on the top, only to have his hand smacked away by an irritated y/n.

“ah! do i need to call the cops on you for domestic violence? because you just love hitting me today, hm?”

“only when you do stupid stuff. hands to yourself, silly.”

“but then how am i supposed to…”

his words trailed off as she lifted a cookie between two fingers, raising a brow at him expectantly.

“oh,” he grinned cutely, opening his mouth. his eyes fell shut of their own accord as the treat pushed past his lips, and he found himself savoring the taste. matt never really believed in love as an ingredient in baked goods, but he had to admit, he could taste it in y/n’s food every time.

“so?”

“they’re incredible, darling. really delicious, seriously.” his smile widened at her pleased expression, clearly happy with herself for having impressed him. not that she had to try very hard. “if i grab one of these, are you gonna hit me again?”

“mm. i guess not.”

matt’s hands reached into her lap, snagging the plate from her entirely, setting it atop his own legs.

“hey, wha—”

“sh,” he quieted her protests with a whisper, grabbing a cookie and admiring the adorable heart-shaped design for a second before his eyes flitted up to her face. the corners of his lips quirked up just barely, and then his free hand was softly gripping her jaw. “open up.”

y/n obeyed almost immediately, save for the half-second she spent processing what had just happened. then, she was chewing on the warm pastry, practically melting in matt’s grasp as his thumb swiped at the edge of her mouth to clean the powdered sugar there.

“good?” he asked after a beat. she swallowed.

“mhm.”

“told you,” he teased, now setting the plate on the coffee table and pulling the girl into his lap instead. he heard her heartbeat pick up in her chest, and he placed a soft kiss against her cheek just to hear it skip once. the movie on the tv had been long forgotten.

y/n’s arms wrapped around his shoulders securely, a happy sigh escaping her lips.

“merry christmas, matt.”

for the first time in many years, matt found himself smiling at those words. he held her tightly against his chest.

“merry christmas, darling.”

taglist: @toslayy @stylessuperwhore @sofieeeeex

[roxineedstosleep]

Kid Fic Merlín Idea!!

Arthur, watching as Merlin fell asleep on the floor after playing with Uther's decorative swords… and wondering what redeemable excuse he can create with George so that Merlin won't be the youngest person to go to the dungeon.

---------------------------

Merlin Kid Fic idea

Hunith decides to send her son to Gauis, everything follows the canon plot… until the moment where the false Lady Helen almost kills Arthur.

Instead of a dagger, she casts a spell. Merlin, noticing that he can't pull Arthur back with him, decides to push him towards Uther, causing the spell to fall on him.

And well… the false Helen dies shortly after, so there's no way to know what spell it is and everything else.

Within all the confusion and Uther trying to reward Merlin publicly, he realizes in the middle of his speech that where there was once a young man, there is a small boy - at most 8 years old, he doesn't know because of how skinny he is - trying to stand up despite the fact that his clothes are now too big for him. A boy who starts crying when he notices that he is not with his mother and that his uncle Gauis looks old and wrinkled.

And Gauis now not only has to care for a child, once his nearly adult nephew, but he can't do it at all because he has to figure out how to reverse the rejuvenation spell. Not to mention that Uther legitimately owes Merlin a life debt.

So, after much consideration, and much to Arthur and Morgana's dismay, the king makes a decision that helps everyone.

Uther decides to make Merlin an apprentice to the prince's main servant, under George's care. That, in part, covers some of the debt he owed Merlin, and helps Gauis.

Merlin is too young to do what an apprentice healer does (things like carrying the sick, going to where the illnesses are, treating broken bones or stitching wounds; which was what Gauis needed from him), not to mention that without that, he would have no one to watch over him all the time Gauis is outside the castle. Not to mention that Gauis is a bit old to keep up with a child.

But, Merlin is not too young to be part of the royal family's line of servants. Under proper care, he not only has someone to watch over him all the time and take care of him, but he would have a well-paying job when they manage to get him out of the spell.

Now. That's where the whole plot begins, with a child Merlin, under the care of George and the entire royal family's house of friends, trying to do his job.

Gauis is the first, as in canon, to discover that Merlin has magic. And, since he knows that Merlin can't fully control it, he's always on edge trying to find the cure for the spell.

George would be the second to find out, because we're talking about his apprentice. Something that makes him just as nervous as Gauis, because - albeit for the wrong reasons - he believes that the rejuvenation spell not only turned a young man into a child, but also gave him magic.

And, because George knows about Merlin's magic, ALL the servants and maids in the royal family know that Merlin not only turned into a child, but that it also gave him magic.

And everyone, because we're talking about a child, decides to act crazy and blind about it.

The last one to discover Merlín's magic was Arthur. But no so far from the tome of George's discovery. Almost at the same week, though. He was, for not say the least, terrified of the consecuences of Merlin's sacrifice. He and George think the same about the origins of Merlin's magic capacitys.

Merlin threw a tantrum, which ended with some vase exploding into thousands of strangely shaped pieces, because his flower arrangement - that ere meant for Arthur- didn't look pretty?

George and some maid make the excuse that a bird flew in through one of the windows and crashed into the vase… even though there weren't any windows in that hallway.

Do the squires and knights always complain about their armor disappearing from its place after one of them upsets Merlin?

George and some stable boy manipulate them into believing that they have left it lying there and that they do not know how to take care of their armor.

Uther asks why his boots disappear after not allowing Merlin to play with a sword?

George and Arthur lie saying that he must have left them there after staying up so late for his duties… even if the boots somehow end up on the roof.

Of course, that also makes the canon adventures a bit difficult.

We have a Tired Big Brother! George, a Near-heart attack Uncle! Gaius, a Big Brother who does not want to be a Big Brother! Arthur and all the servants and knights of the castle trying to keep up with Merlin. Who somehow or another, does not separate from the prince and seeks to protect him against all evil.

Even if it means that George, the servants and maids, and the knights of the round table are trying to hide Merlin's magic as best they can.

[reveryfics]

Hii ! I have an idea ;) for Loki !

I do/did a lot of panic attacks and sometimes you feel so lonely in that moment, everybody is welcomed to help you or talk to you, even if you don't really have the capacity to respond. So, in this theme, can you make a scenario where Loki is on Earth for bad reasons, his kingdom project yk, and when he starts to scare everyone with his corns and powers, he saw ftm!reader in a corner. Reader is having a panic attack, because of the sudden chaos, plus everybody is trying to run away and push him away. Loki doesn't know him, but for some reasons he goes help him.

Thanks for reading me 🎀 have a good day/night

Oh and ! I wanted to say, I'm french so..sorry for the mistakes, i try to learn as best as i can english

Clarity

Pairings: Loki x FtM reader

Summary: Admist the chaos that surrounds New York, you feel trapped like everything is closing in on you. Despite Loki's plans, he can't help but offer something anyone would least expect.

A/n: I love doing your requests, I smile everytime I see you sent one! I personally have had panic attacks, but I know it's different for everyone so I hope this does it justice. Perhaps a pt. 2 in the future?

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The cacophony of terror assaulted him. Screams pierced the air, a chilling symphony of fear and despair. Dust choked the lungs, a suffocating blanket against the already chaotic sky. Buildings, once titans of steel and glass, now lay in fractured ruins, their skeletons mocking the city's former grandeur. New York, the heart of a nation, was bleeding, its pulse weakening with every shattering crash. The once vibrant metropolis, a beacon of hope and progress, was now a battlefield, a grim testament to the fragility of civilization.

He, a mere speck in this maelstrom of destruction, lay sprawled on the cold, unforgiving concrete. The world tilted, a dizzying carousel of chaos. The weight of the crowd, a monstrous tide, had crashed over him, leaving him gasping for breath, his vision a blur of dust and blood. Panic, a venomous serpent, coiled around his chest, constricting his breath, stealing his sanity.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the city's own demise. Each thud was a hammer blow against his already fragile mind. The world narrowed, focusing on the suffocating pressure in his chest, the icy tendrils of fear gripping his throat. His breath came in ragged gasps, shallow and inadequate. The air, thick with smoke and the stench of destruction, seemed to cling to his lungs, suffocating him.

His vision blurred, the edges of his world darkening. He felt a detachment from reality, as if he were watching himself from a distance, a detached observer in his own personal hell. His mind raced, a whirlwind of terrifying thoughts: Was this the end? Would he die here, crushed beneath the weight of falling debris, swallowed by the chaos?

The screams of the injured, the cries of the dying, the deafening roar of collapsing buildings – they all blended into a terrifying cacophony, assaulting his senses, driving him further into the abyss of panic. He felt a wave of dizziness, the world tilting precariously. He tried to ground himself, to focus on his breathing, but the fear was too strong, too overwhelming.

He was drowning, not in water, but in the suffocating terror of the moment, the helplessness washing over him like a frigid wave. He felt a surge of adrenaline, followed by a chilling wave of weakness. His limbs trembled uncontrollably, his body shaking with the force of the panic attack. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the grime coating his skin. He was a leaf caught in a hurricane, tossed and turned, utterly insignificant in the face of this overwhelming force. The screams of the city, a haunting chorus, echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the horror unfolding around him.

Then, a hand, strong and steady, reached out, pulling him from the abyss. Loki, his face etched with a grim determination, gazed down at him, his eyes mirroring the chaos, yet holding a flicker of something else – compassion.

Loki saw himself reflected in the other's eyes – the fear, the helplessness, the crushing weight of despair. He remembered being a child, lost and alone in a world that seemed intent on tearing him apart, a world where pain was a constant companion. He understood the suffocating grip of panic, the way it could steal your breath, your sanity, your very soul. He remembered the paralyzing fear of uncertainty, the feeling of being utterly alone in a sea of chaos.

"Can you hear me?" Loki's voice was a low rumble, a comforting anchor in the storm.

He could only nod, his body trembling, his mind still reeling. The panic attack was receding, leaving behind a lingering tremor in his limbs and a profound sense of exhaustion.

Loki, despite the chaos swirling around them, the city crumbling at their feet, felt a surge of protectiveness. This young man, broken and lost, mirrored his own reflection in a shattered mirror. He saw the raw fear in the other's eyes, the same fear that had haunted him for so long. He felt a deep-seated need to protect him, to shield him from the horrors of this day.

"Allow me to help," he murmured, his voice a gentle current in the raging torrent. As he guided the young man through the debris, Loki felt a strange sense of calm descend upon him. In the midst of destruction, he had found a purpose, a chance to offer solace, to ease the suffering of another. And as he looked back, a fleeting smile touched his lips. "Wait for me," he whispered, his voice carried away on the wind, "our paths will cross again."

The city groaned, a wounded beast bleeding out onto the streets. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light piercing the smoke-filled air, illuminating the wreckage of what was once a thriving metropolis. Amidst the chaos, Loki stood, his gaze fixed on the horizon, a solitary figure against the backdrop of devastation.

He thought of the man, his face pale and drawn, eyes wide with terror. He remembered the warmth of the man's hand in his, a fragile connection in the face of overwhelming chaos. And then, he thought of the look of quiet desperation in the man's eyes as Loki helped him navigate the treacherous terrain of the ruined city.

A strange calm descended upon him. A sense of clarity, unexpected and profound. The years of deceit, of manipulation, of chaos – they seemed to fade away, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose. He had found meaning in the act of helping another, a flicker of goodness amidst the darkness.

Days later, Loki stood before the Avengers, his hands bound, his expression inscrutable. Iron Man, his eyes narrowed, demanded an explanation. "Why?" he boomed, his voice echoing through the stark, metallic chamber.

Loki looked at them, at the faces etched with suspicion and distrust. He saw the reflection of his own past in their eyes – a history of betrayal, of broken trust. "A sense of clarity," he replied, his voice a low rumble.

The Avengers exchanged confused glances. "Clarity?" Captain America echoed, perplexed.

Loki did not elaborate. He had found clarity in the act of helping, in the unexpected surge of compassion that had washed over him. It was a fragile seed, perhaps, but it was a beginning. And that, he realized, was enough.

[venstm]

I want to preface this by saying that I am holding myself accountable for not stepping up and either breaking off the friendship sooner or defending myself properly. As it stands even now I am not someone who copes well with confrontation and would rather stay as far away from it as possible. I’m speaking now because other people are coming forward with their stories and experiences. Whilst I have very few actual screenshots of conversations please understand that the interactions I’m discussing impacted me quite a lot mentally. It’s up to you to decide if you think I’m overreacting but by the end of those six months I had basically decided I no longer had a place in the rpc where I was welcomed after losing that friendship. I’ll be putting this under a read more so look at your own discretion. I won’t be speaking about this again after this.

If terios / ty sees this and decides they wish to unblock me and speak about it in order to see these feelings discussed and resolved im okay with that and if anyone else who has been in a similar situation needs someone to talk to or discuss it with in also open to that.

At the beginning of our friendship things were pretty intense and feeling like you were the main writing partner for someone who had already established themselves a place in the rpc was such a good feeling ? It’s like you really belong and you have someone who is so invested in your portrayal that you feel really important. There were many times where this once good feeling became tarnished by negativity, bitterness and what to me, felt like being bullied or belittled.

I’ll touch on a few things I really do remember quite clearly and be understanding that my adhd / ptsd and other things impact my capacity to retain information all the time I try to be very clear with this when talking with mutuals to avoid them becoming frustrated when I don’t remember everything all the time. they would tell me I wasn’t listening or paying attention when I tried to explain this.

there was a lot of time monopolising that I ended up enabling, this one in particular was mentioned to me by my partner who ended up feeling like I really distanced myself from them and even when I did want / try to spend time with them terios’ reaction would always be to change their tone to speaking bitterly or giving off this change of energy and if you recognise it you know it’s the sort where you’ve done something wrong and you need to fix it immediately.

There were also times where other friends became an issue, terios had problems with someone I was interacting with on dash. At the time I wanted to be in their corner because we were really close, they were my closest friend but these people had also been nothing but nice to me and I didn’t have issues with them. This tension went on for a while until terios let me know that I was two faced for not taking their side fully and I ended up blocking them which I thought was the right answer to appeasing someone who was upset. Yes, this was my fault I should have said no but they were a really important friend to me and I wanted them to feel like they were heard and understood. In the end I lost both of those friends and another friend who told me that if I continued to always take terios’ side in arguments like that I would have no one else left but them in the end.

It also happened when I mentioned that I was watching things with my mutual, we had only just started writing again after not speaking for a long time and terios was instantly making comments about it, usually vague and never good and when I finally said hey you know this isn’t cool to be saying this their response was just that I should have told them that sooner.

They were always unpleasant about Gepard ships that weren’t ours and I don’t know if that was because they just had a bias or not but I remember plotting an almost au verse with a firefly writer and dropping it because they were telling me when and how would that happen why is this something you’re writing ? basically implying that I owed it to some how justify what I was deciding to write for my muse ?

This also happened when I was creating an au for Gepard around being a vampire hunter I was so excited about it and I wanted to tell them and their response was to pick it apart reminding me oh this doesn’t make sense for Gepard’s canon age or this doesn’t make sense for his family and whilst I get caring about canon it really made me feel ? like my spark had just been squashed something I was so excited about just being torn to shreds completely and I never spoke about it again, tobias was there when this happened I had just came home from the gym in tears because I was so upset about it.

As those who interact with me know I am someone who is always earnestly trying to expand my vocabulary and learn new ways to incorporate cool stuff into my writing and there was one time one time when I used a word wrong and I did apologize for it and they ended up bringing it up over and over again for three months and whilst it was a joke in their eyes I don’t doubt it really just made me not want to try to improve my writing anymore and minimised myself to be someone they would approve of.

it also felt like anytime I began to get the confidence to bring up how I was feeling that it was turned around to make me feel worse or shit and like the whole situation was my fault rather than looking at it and both taking accountability and working to find a solution. I found this so challenging because so many times I left feeling like I was truly in the wrong because they had told me I was.

SC:

The last thing I will mention is that they will jump between gepard writers quite frequently. I wasn’t on the receiving end of this but I do know that when they blocked me only a day later then were dming a mutual and friend of mine who they had all but ghosted for those six months asking to write again. While this isn’t the worst thing ever I can only imagine how shitty that must feel and I know when they spoke to me and I said this it really hit home for them that they had been second best for those whole six months despite being there before me. This has happened with other Gepard writers too not just me and that person.

In the end a lot of this shit could have been amended if I told them your behaviour is shitty and it’s making me feel like shit but who wants to be put in a situation with a friend or writing partner where they feel like they have to make that choice.

I still do think terios is a good writer and they’re committed to the sampo they’re shaping but there are ways to interact with people that are kinder and not always with this undertone of being nasty or mean or spiteful. Again, if they or anyone else does want to talk to me about this they can and I trust that everyone can decide who they want to write with themselves. I just want my feelings and story to be heard and others to know they can speak up too.

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[moonchild-in-blue]

I haven't really done much art for tumblr (at all) lately, cus life, but! Here's a lil something I've been working on (it's a Xmas gift) 💙

(also peep that lil January calendar painting 👀 i did mini squares for each month for myself, because I need to have a physical one always, and they each have their own colour 🥺)

[intertexts]

i sgould get really into quiltin.g.

[elprupneerg]

I hate when I see a post that maybe has helpful information, but it’s so full of guilt tripping, calling people who don’t know the information stupid, and calling people who haven’t been talking about that particular problem stupid, that I don’t feel comfortable sharing it.

[numberonetribble]

Stuck at my mom's house until the 27th, can't finish the comic I was working on until then :( here's a rough Cowboy!pinup sketch of Bumblebee and some Breakbee + Piston angst:

[hecksupremechips]

Really into the episode of Ouran where this girl confesses her love to Mori but he doesn’t feel the same because he’s into Honey and the girl’s reaction is just like YIPPEE I LOVE YAOI THATS SO COOL FOR YOU YAY 🥰

[snekdood]

when ppl are like "do u know ppl of x minority that ur still in contact with" as a gotcha ig to say ur not actually as open and progressive as you say you are but bud... i dont talk to anyone from my past, lmao, I dont think thats a fair metric to go by quite frankly

[jelliebeanbitch]

I CAN DO THIS!!!! I CAN LEARN TO BE A THEATER DESIGNER!!!! YES I AM JUST STARTING OUT AND DOING THIS FOR THE FIRST TIME!!!! THATS CUZ IT IS A TRADE AND YOU LEARN A TRADE BY PRACTICING!!!!! SO I AM GOING TO PRACTICE DAMMIT!!!!