#but ill have another snippet out today

[diamonddaze01]

69. "You know my name?" + chan omg im begging u or ill beat u to it and write it (lol stares at all my wips 💀)

call me by my name

Pairing: lc x f!reader | wc: 971 words prompt: "You know my name?" au: university au! | warnings: none a/n: HANEULLLLL thank u for the ask this was so cute and fun to write i hope you love it <33333

The lecture hall buzzed with the usual pre-class noise—pens tapping against desks, chairs creaking as students settled in, snippets of conversation floating from every direction. The air carried a faint hum of fluorescent lights, blending into the background chaos. You sat at your usual spot in the front row, pen poised and ready, eyes skimming the lecture notes you’d pulled up on your laptop.

Behind you, it was less preparation and more pandemonium.

“Seungkwan, what the fuck! Stop throwing shit at me!”

You didn’t have to look to know it was Soonyoung. His voice carried, loud and incredulous as always.

“That’s not throwing—it’s called handing,” Seungkwan shot back, his words dripping with mock seriousness. “Get some spatial awareness, idiot.”

The sound of a paper airplane slicing through the air followed, landing somewhere near your seat. You glanced down briefly at the crumpled attempt at aerodynamics before looking back at your notes.

“Is that supposed to be a plane or modern art?” another voice chimed in—Chan this time, laughter in his tone.

Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of the trio in their usual seats toward the back. Soonyoung had crossed his arms, glaring at the offending paper in Chan’s hand. Seungkwan was smirking triumphantly, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head.

“Give it here,” Chan said, snatching the airplane and inspecting it with exaggerated care. “Yeah, no. This isn’t a plane. This is, like… a bird that forgot how to fly.”

The paper flew again—this time courtesy of Chan—and barely made it past the second row before nose-diving onto the floor. The resulting laughter spread like wildfire across the room, even prompting a raised eyebrow from Professor Lee, who was just arriving.

“If the three of you could channel even half this energy into engineering,” the professor said, setting down his coffee with a thud, “you might actually pass this class.”

A round of chuckles rippled through the room as Chan held up his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll consider it!”

You shook your head, letting the familiar chaos wash over you. It had been like this all semester—Chan, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung acting as the unofficial class entertainment. Their antics had a way of filling the space, loud enough to distract but not enough to pull you from your work.

Professor Lee called the class to order, his voice steady as he launched into announcements. You settled in, fingers flying over your keyboard as you took notes.

Until he dropped the bomb.

“Alright, folks, listen up,” Professor Lee announced, raising his voice over the chatter. “Big news today—it’s time to kick off your group projects.”

Groans and murmurs spread through the room like wildfire. People immediately started swiveling in their seats, calling out to friends to lock in their groups before anyone got left behind.

You stayed put, as you always did. You’d learned from experience—being the quiet one meant waiting out the storm. Once the dust settled, you’d deal with whatever scraps of a team were left.

“The project is worth thirty percent of your grade,” Professor Lee continued, adjusting his glasses. “So choose wisely.”

“Thirty percent?” someone whispered behind you.

“Yeah, that’s fucked,” another voice muttered.

You ignored them, jotting down the project details from the board. If no one picked you, you’d just work alone—it wasn’t ideal, but you’d survive. Your eyes flicked back to your laptop, but before you could even finish writing down the assignment details, a shadow fell over your desk. You blinked up, startled, only to see Chan grinning down at you, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket.

“Uh, hi?” you said cautiously.

“Wanna be in a group with me and my friends?” He jerked his thumb toward Seungkwan and Soonyoung, who were mid-wrestle over a pencil in the back corner of the room.

Your pen froze mid-word. “You… know my name?”

Chan tilted his head like you’d just asked him if the sky was blue. “Uh, yeah? Considering you’re the one who ruins the curve every time… yes, I know your name.”

Oh.

“But also,” he continued, “you clearly know what you’re doing, and we’d be stupid not to team up with you.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. “Okay.”

His grin widened, and he gestured for you to follow him.

By the time you reached Seungkwan and Soonyoung, they’d paused their argument and were now watching you with matching mischievous smirks.

“So,” Seungkwan said, leaning closer to Chan, “you actually got her to join us, huh?”

“Guess today’s my lucky day,” Chan muttered, side-eyeing him.

Soonyoung jabbed Seungkwan in the ribs, grinning like an idiot. “Told you he wouldn’t chicken out.”

“Shut up,” Chan hissed, his ears already pink.

But Seungkwan wasn’t done. “You didn’t have to use the whole ‘you ruin the curve’ thing. You could’ve just said, ‘Hey, I think you’re super smart and pretty, and I totally have a crush on you.’”

Chan’s eyes widened as if someone had just slapped him with a textbook. “What the fuck—”

“Or,” Soonyoung added, tapping his chin theatrically, “you could’ve been, like, ‘I sit two rows behind you every day because your hair smells like strawberries.’”

“I do not—”

Seungkwan gasped, fake-shocked. “Oh my God, you’ve smelled her hair?”

Chan groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I hate both of you.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, covering your mouth as the trio dissolved into chaos.

“Don’t listen to them,” Chan said quickly, turning back to you with an apologetic look. “They’re dumbasses, but I promise we’ll actually get work done. Eventually.”

You raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “As long as no one brings paper airplanes to the final presentation.”

“See?” Soonyoung crowed. “She’s funny too. You’re screwed, Chan.”

Chan didn’t answer, but the flush creeping up his neck said more than enough.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[darkmagicmirror]

The Dark Magic Symbol and Alchemy

I've been wanting to make this post since before S5 and never got around to it, and I decided hey, might as well try to get it out before S6, at least. SO here it is. I know S6 came out today, but I haven't seen it yet, so shh, this still counts.

So in a Reddit AMA back in 2020, Aaron and Justin answered a question confirming that they drew inspiration for the dark magic symbol from the Rod of Asclepius and the Caduceus.

Just because of Tumblr image limits, I put the screenshot and symbols (linked in the comment) in the same picture, but you can follow the link to the AMA comment and look at the image there if you need a bigger version.

SO I got curious and started looking up some more info...

Here are just the first couple paragraphs of the Wikipedia pages for the Caduceus and Rod of Asclepius.

So at first glance, just like the comment in the original question says, the Caduceus is associated mostly with Hermes, and the Rod of Asclepius is associated with health care and medicine.

But a little further down the Wikipedia page, we get:

Although the Rod of Asclepius, which has only one snake and no wings, is the traditional and more widely used symbol of medicine, the Caduceus is sometimes used by healthcare organizations.

And it turns out that there's an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to the Caduceus as a symbol of medicine. So, already, upon finding this, I found it fascinating that the dark magic symbol is inspired by not just one, but two symbols seen as medical symbols.

Onto the article focusing on the Caduceus as a symbol of medicine, I go on to find this:

I have to come back to the Quicksilver thing, but first off, the being a symbol of alchemy is interesting to me. (Partially because I definitely think of Fullmetal Alchemist and the whole equivalent exchange concept there and the questions about whether people should be messing with life and death and how everything has a price -- all pretty relevant to TDP, but I digress.)

I looked at the article linked in footnote 16, which is titled The earliest medical use of the caduceus, and I found this fascinating image!

Most importantly, this has a single snake with two heads. Which sounds familiar!

I do think it's worth noting that the very first time an example of dark magic is discussed on screen, it's with the discussion of the two-headed snake, being held by Viren's staff. The spell isn't actually done, obviously, but it's the first impression we get of dark magic in the series!

Also I just find it interesting that the article mentions that:

Hermes had some medical roles in that he did assist in conducting the dead to the underworld and also received some credit for relieving plagues and epidemics in Asia Minor.

Another article linked on Wikipedia, called Snake and staff symbolism in healing, brings up the same point, saying:

The caduceus was indeed a magical wand, a gift from Apollo which protected Hermes and enabled him to guide departed souls along unknown pathways to the Underworld, and to awaken the sleeping. The latter aspect was sometimes associated with powers of resurrection — of awakening the dead, and also of curing the severely ill (Schouten 1967:119; Van Rooyen 1982:731-5).

So I just think it's interesting that it all ties into dark magic very well, especially considering that Claudia uses dark magic to resurrect Viren, and dark magic has been shown to be used for healing purposes (such as healing Soren -- both before and during show-canon).

The last mentioned article also goes on to mention the quicksilver thing, so I just wanted to say that I also find that particular point interesting considering that many people theorize that the different types of primal magic may have one underlying magical source that powers all of them, which to me reminds me of quicksilver being considered the basis of all matter.

But wait! There's more!

When I looked at the Wikipedia page for Alchemy, I found this interesting snippet:

An important example of alchemy's roots in Greek philosophy, originated by Empedocles and developed by Aristotle, was that all things in the universe were formed from only four elements: earth, air, water, and fire. According to Aristotle, each element had a sphere to which it belonged and to which it would return if left undisturbed.

This especially reminds me of the primal sources. Also spheres? Really? Funny how the primal stones are shaped that way,

The beginning part of the Wikipedia article also mentions how one of alchemy's aims was to create panaceas to cure diseases, and also that it played a role in the development of chemistry and medicine, which is fascinating!

And then I did decide to look at the Rod of Asclepius page as well, and it talks about how the snake and rod/staff were originally separate symbols.

Both the Oxford Illustrated Companion to Medicine and The New Medicine and the Old Ethics (links are to Google Books) talk about the snake/serpent as symbols of renewal/restoration of health because of how snakes shed their skin. The latter also has this snippet, which I think makes snakes sound like a great dark magic symbol as well:

Back on the Wikipedia page, it also says:

The ambiguity of the serpent as a symbol, and the contradictions it is thought to represent, reflect the ambiguity of the use of drugs,[8] which can help or harm, as reflected in the meaning of the term pharmakon, which meant "drug", "medicine", and "poison" in ancient Greek.[11] However the word may become less ambiguous when "medicine" is understood as something that heals the one taking it because it poisons that which afflicts it, meaning medicine is designed to kill or drive away something and any healing happens as a result of that thing being gone, not as a direct effect of "medicine".

I looked at the source A History of Medicine as well, and this was where it talked about pharmakon:

So it literally talks about magic there, which is really interesting to me.

Anyway!

TL;DR: All that to say that while the dark magic symbol obviously has influence from the caduceus and Rod of Asclepius, I think that the concept of dark magic in general also draws some inspiration from the meaning/history behind both symbols, especially with regards to the connection to alchemy, two-headed snake, and also the connection to healing/medicine.

Which all just contributes to my opinion that I hope the canon universe in the series doesn't eliminate dark magic use in the end but instead puts limitations on dark magic use so it can still be used for the healing purposes as well. And if alchemy ended up contributing to medicine, then... who knows?

... also that's without even getting into how the series refers to Sir Sparklepuff as a homonculus, which:

And the page goes on to mention the "Arcanum of human blood" so... yeah.

Lots to think about!

[scyllas-revenge]

Hope you're doing OK Scylla :D Was thinking about BLCI today (as you do) and no pressure on the next chapter at all but do you have any snippets to share? No worries if not! Also I think I saw that you love Persuasion? *ignores existence of the 2022 version!!!* Thought I'd share that there is a recent Eomer/OFC fic being adapted from Persuasion and put it on your radar if you hadn't seen it...its off to a great start :D

pHORSEuasion: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55817617/chapters/147845338

XOXO

Thanks for the ask! And omg yes Persuasion is THE yearning book. The Netflix version took ten years off my life. Luckily we have the 90s one and the 2007 one to enjoy instead.

Given my love of Persuasion, and Eomer, and puns, I definitely have that fic on my radar! I'm hoping I'll have time to start it in the next week or two!

As far as BLCI goes, I've been making progress! Now I just have to work out whether what I thought was going to be one chapter should be divided into two or three (it's really gotten away from me lol).

But you asked for snippets! And I shall deliver! Snippets abound!!

Or at least, one big snippet abounds!

Probably way too long to be a snippet, but I'm excited to post the damn thing. Hopefully it'll be another two weeks or so before Ch. 34 is done!

Ch. 34 snippet <3

“I should call you Lord Boromir, shouldn’t I?”

He paused, looking startled at the thought. “No. I would not wish that.”

“But I should, shouldn’t I? Everyone else does—hell, the guards outside the gate called you Steward-Prince—”

“You have long been aware of my station and my family, that I command Gondor’s armies and am the Steward’s heir besides.”

“Yes, but it’s different being here, seeing you like this,” I protested. “I probably should’ve been addressing you differently this whole time, my lord—”

Anger flashed across his face. “Do not address me so! Valar, such words sit ill on your lips.”

His eyes had fallen intently to my lips as he spoke, and I dropped my gaze to my boots, flustered. “It’s not like I want to be so formal either, but what will your people think?” I asked. I wasn’t even sure what they’d think, exactly, but it couldn’t be good. “What will your father think?”

Boromir pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed an impatient sigh. “Yes, you speak truly. It would be—selfish of me, to demand such impropriety of you.”

“I don’t need to call you Lord when we’re alone. Just—just in public.”

He smiled joylessly and tilted his head up to the sky. “A more diplomatic concession I cannot hope to make, it seems.”

“And how should I address your father? Does a steward warrant a higher title than lord?”

“No, for the line of stewards is not royalty. Lord or Lord Steward shall suffice, though I must warn you that such formalities will hardly be optional with my father.”

That, at least, was obvious, but I supposed after my disastrous interactions with Theoden, he’d felt the need to remind me.

“I should also warn you—” He hesitated. “Speak naught but the truth to my father.”

“I was hardly planning on lying to him,” I protested, more than a little offended now.

Boromir raised his hands placatingly. “Of course not. I only wished to caution you, for he will know at once if you do otherwise. He has a—an affinity for such things.”

“An affinity for what, reading minds?” I was joking, but Boromir only nodded gravely. “You can’t be serious,” I exclaimed.

“Both my father and brother share a talent for gleaning men’s thoughts. It can be an…overwhelming experience, my soldiers have told me.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

[simp-ly-writes]

Personal Hell (pt.9) Snippet

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

A/N: a bit of what is to come, thank you all for waiting so patiently- really appreciate it!! School is fighting with me but only a bit longer to go! I'll try and have the complete chapter out as soon as I can. :)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Clapping your hands together, hundreds of fireflies hurry themselves towards the ceiling- illuminating the space as you spin with a satisfied hum. Mahogany shelves line behind a grand desk that sits on a taller platform than your own. The chair demands a demanding presence without a body filling its seat, memories of you refusing to look up towards this very desk has you looking back over your shoulder as Lucifer leans against the doorframe with a lazy smile across his face. “Sometime it has been since I have been in this room…” he sarcastically comments, watching as a spider crawls its way across the floor and into a windowsill filled with cobwebs as your cringe in thought to all the eyes of the creature staring back at you. 

Shaking your head, disrupting a shiver, you make your way up to the desk, leaning on its surface as your hands trail over the various letters you had sent capturing your adventures and battles before taking up a full-time position at the palace. You hum out, picking up a letter with dried black blood, flipping it over and ushering out the note as it reads, “Best of Mornings, Queen Lilith and Company. I write to you today as an update from the front lines of outer rings. The civil war is soon to be under control once again as discussions have progressed with the deadly sins, I report that from now on I will no longer be talking to Lust after a… personal encounter. Flipping the page, there is a list of necessary equipment to be sent towards the western front that I will be maintaining come morning. To address your earlier concerns, I have endured minor injuries in the fight yet I cannot speak for the hundreds of my fellow brothers and sisters that have become ill in recent time- I cannot urge enough for supplies to come at the earliest moment. Sincerely, General Peacekeeper: your entrusted confidant, historian, and ally.” 

Your finger glides over your panicked writing, you remember writing this note while swords and bullets crashed over your head while knee deep in the trenches. Dead-man's land was littered with corpses, the scent vile- burning your nose with its decay as you readied the line for yet another charge as you powered up your shadows in the turning of nightfall. You fail to notice as Lucifer has taken a seat at his desk, his legs spread as he pats his thigh, motioning for you to take a seat as you both continue reading through yet another distant lifetime. 

One of his warm palms rests on your thigh, sneaking its way upwards as your breath hitches, swinging yourself to point him a glare. You both freeze as the door slams open and a dozen staff members present themselves to you, wide-eyed and seemingly in a frenzy. Taking a stand quickly, you jump down the stairs and listen to the hurried sentences they all speak out at once- barley picking up any of the words except for three that continue to get repeated, “Charlie, Speech, War.” 

Shit. You whisper underneath your breath, your battle armor settling against your skin in an instant, clashing against your spear as you swing it to rest on your back. Lucifer stumbles to a stand, running around the desk yet you fall to the floor and into the cracks between the wood in a blink, travelling through the shadows towards the Hotel as the King grips out his hair- cursing himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @jtcat305 @tati-the-fangirl @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @amarokofficial @cynjinx0 @legacyreadsfics @repentant-repeller @ly-doodels

[mysticstarlightduck]

Seven Sentences Sunday! Writing Share Tag! <3

Thanks for the tag, @rickie-the-storyteller!!!! I know this is a 7 Sentence Tag but I am too lazy so I'm gonna treat it as a Writing Share tag lmao

I'll go with a snippet from Arrows of Nightfall for this one (:

Snow crunched underneath Asrius' worn out, heavy fur-lined boots, as he trudged through the frozen trail. The ground was covered in thick blankets of white, frost crawling up the treetrunks and tinging everything around him with cold. The trees were barren, their ashen branches creaking in the howling wind, their fallen leaves long since turned to wet mulch under the thick snow.

The familiar smell of burning wood from scattered campires was the only welcome he had as he neared the war camp once more. It would've been comforting, if it wasn't followed by the faint smell of roasted venison and the cheers of the older soldiers sharing their vast, filling portions in the main tent. None of that feast would ever make its way to him, or to his cousin.

That, the Commander had made damn well sure of.

All that Asrius had to keep him and Eirian from starving in these frozen wastes were small, dwindling stashes of dry meat and stale old bread, and whatever small critter - usually a hare or a phesant, though now, at this point in the winter, where the forests had turned into a deserted death trap, he wasn't above hunting for rats - he could manage to kill and smuggle into camp without being spotted by his so-called comrades. If he was lucky.

Today, he wasn't lucky.

His hunting escapade today had left him with nothing more than weary, frost-bitten bones and empty hands, his entire body protesting the unwanted effort after the grueling scouting missions the Commander had not-so-generously burdened him with. Nothing. He'd gotten nothing. And he knew what awaited him in their small, shared tent in the far edge of camp - Eirian, his cousin, barely eleven winters of age, and their tiny stash of supplies hidden under an old pack. Today it wouldn't be enough for half a meal for even one of them, let alone them both.

He'd have to take a risk. To steal from the more favored soldiers, the ones gathering around the main table. The ones who loved to beat him up, and whose cruel laughter seemed to be the backdrop of his life nowadays. He'd have to try. Maybe he could swipe a pastry or two from the feast the others shared, sneak it away under his cloak. He hoped they were drunken enough that such an act would go unnoticed.

Asrius tugged at his cloak so it wrapped more tightly around his shoulders, as if the rough hewn cloth could offer something akin to warmth in this weather, with the wind slashing at his skin like icy daggers. Each step he took closer to the main tent felt like a battle against his own instincts screaming at him to just stop. But he couldn't afford to stop. If he did, he and Eirian would be soon to become like those corpses that seemed to litter the edge of the roads, gaunt husks reaped by illness and hunger, drained of life.

He refused to let that be their fate.

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[xysidhequeen]

Binge read your Red Knight AU.

I’m glad Jason found new family who loves him unconditionally.

Anon sending healing vibes to your chronic illness ✨✨

I accept the healing vibes. Keep them coming, I barely had a migraine today so they did something.

Binge reading is so fun. It's basically the only reading I do myself. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Speaking of Jason's found family, here's a snippet from Part 16! I'm working on that already while my beta goes over 15.

~~~~~☆☆☆☆☆~~~~~

Sam let out a screech that was more static than anything else. Danny leaned carefully out of clawing range.

Jason stared at his king and then dropped his head into his hands.

"Why are you like this?' Jason murmured, feeling Tucker place a consoling hand on his shoulder.

Sam took a deep breath in and then launched into another tirade, her volume growing. Jason just left her to it. He was too busy trying to figure out how he was supposed to keep his dumbass king from fully dying when he was so set in making stupid fucking decisions.

What even was his afterlife.

~~~~~~~☆☆☆☆☆~~~~~~~

Only two people are actually pleased with Danny's field trip he takes in part 15. One of those people is Danny, and the other is introduced in part 15. It was really hard to find a good snippet that didn't spoil part 15 too much in this as I only have 1.4k for part 16 so far. But more is being written! I'm really hoping Tim gets to pop in (I need to get all the important characters introduced before Plot comes in. Which I have, I swear. Or. Well. I have a vague vibe that I'm calling plot)

[shootingstarpilot]

uhhhh hi I think these snippets about Cody undergoing an early reconditioning and ALSO of him quietly helping Needle by deleting the same from his record (possibly w/o Needle ever KNOWING?! I am tearing down the wallpaper etc). This is driving me INSANE. it's living rent free.

all that is to say– wondering how many people ever know about it then. his batch, sure, but like. Helix? as the CMO? in a medical sense I feel... I feel he'd have to know? Imagining all the things right now. Mutual understanding. Conversations that dance around the topic but still manage to spell the shape of it out to those who know what they're looking for because there's no avoiding that.

god. so ill abt this, I adore your work SO much 🧡

okay listen i was sitting on this for a bit and then i FINALLY got to do a hike today and while i was walking i stopped in the middle of the path because what if needle does the same for cody?

like. okay. bear with me. helix is trying to figure out why the hell his general's file is redacted to hell and back. he tasks needle with going through the rest of the personnel files for any issues that might need further attention. neither of them are expecting anything- issues that needed further attention didn't usually-

well.

anyway, needle's a good medic and understands the necessity for thorough documentation, so he's going through these files only to stop short when he pulls up the commander's and sees that same little status indicator.

he refreshes the page. maybe it's a lag. maybe that field accidentally subbed in a result from another trooper.

three refreshes later, he stops.

he doesn't give himself time to think about it. he just- deletes it. wipes away the little status tag and everything it signifies, and then he puts his head between his knees and kicks at the uncomfortable simmering in his chest until it dulls enough that he can ignore it.

(he makes sure to take cody's case whenever he comes into the medbay, though. especially if there's a head injury. he knows there can be scarring.)

i just. what if. @dragonsanddandelions mentioned "small gods and small kindnesses" and now i simply CANNOT COPE. small kindnesses, unknowingly traded. small kindnesses SURVIVING. OW.

[safelycapricious]

Looking for a little external motivation atm, so let me talk about some fics I'm working on and if one sounds good to me then let me know and hopefully I'll get off my ass. Just going to list some and give a random snippet I suppose.

Bucktommy Amnesia:

“Evan, baby, can you open your eyes for me?” someone asks at his side, and he realizes his hand is being held. The voice doesn’t register immediately, but he once didn’t recognize Maddie’s voice when he woke up, so that’s less alarming than it could be.

Bucktommy Old Guard:

The year is 1863 and it’s the first time Evan has ever felt like he has a real family, people who actually care about him and what he thinks. He’ll fight out the rest of the war at their side, but he’ll never be as good at it as they are.

BuddieTommy Buck self doubt:

He grabs his salad and slides back into his booth and puts the phone down again, so he can resist revisiting the texts from his boyfriends. How their latest response to him saying he was going to be coming home today were just the thumbs up emoji and an “Okay, let us know if that changes.” So different from the reply to his first text, before he’d been invited to stay, with heart reacts and “Can’t wait to see you! We miss you!”

Jason/Constantine Priest of Gotham:

“Why didn’t you bloody well tell me you’ve got a priest?” Constantine barks, several notches higher than he had been talking with B.

All three of them glance over in time to see B actually try to pinch the bridge of his nose through the cowl. It doesn’t work, of course, but says a lot about how he’s feeling. “He don’t have a priest, but if you think a man of the cloth would be helpful I can reach out to St. Michaels —”

“Not have a — he’s right there!” and the tan trench coat clad arm is pointing right at Jason.

Jason eats another chip.

“You’re a priest, little wing?” Dick asks around a barely suppressed laugh.

“Not in this universe,” is Jason’s response, “unless Halloween counts — but I was technically a nun for that.”

“I have questions,” Tim says, no longer solely focused on his screen.

Jason/Slade Flu:

Jason didn’t understand why someone would genetically engineer an illness to give to Slade that only gave him a minor flu. Until he had to be the one to take care of him.

He gets it now.

He’s going to kill that son of a bitch whoever it is whenever he finds them — regardless of who it is or where they are. He will kill them in front of Bruce and the whole world and not regret it at all.

Because Slade? Slade is the worst patient in the history of patients.

Jason/Natasha/Bucky in series (series):

“Hey, so that thigh move you do,” the Red Hood who is probably Jason Todd says to Natasha while the person who might be James Buchanan Barnes but is certainly the Winter Soldier is evaluated at the Avengers Tower.

Natasha turns to him, not bothering to smile. People bringing up the thigh move only goes one way, and when she has to pretend sometimes that it’s not deeply offensive she doesn’t have to pretend right now. “Yes?” she prompts.

“Could you teach it to me?” he finishes, grinning bright behind his domino mask which he’s refused to take off.

[kookaburra1701]

OC in 15: Khemor gro-Skaven

tagged by @dirty-bosmer: share 15 lines or less of dialogue that showcases your OC's personality

I was tagged for this awhile ago, and I've finally gotten some breathing room to go through my snippets about my LDB, Khemor gro-Skaven. This was fun, and while there are of course more lines that I want to share, trying to pick ones that would stand alone more-or-less was a challenge!

I tag @gilgamish @saltymaplesyrup @archangelsunited

“Master Phinis has shared with me the manuscript you are co-authoring with him. I was quite taken with your elegant proof of Rhythandius’ Fourth Postulate. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone come at the problem from the contrapositive before.”

“Many of the Legion, mostly Nords and native sons of Hammerfell, refused to abandon Skaven, and deserted to continue protecting us. It was futile, of course. They were overrun and the Dominion occupied the city for two years.” He looked again at Calder and said quietly, “I am well-acquainted with the cruelties the Thalmor visit upon the populace of the places where they have control.”

“Indeed I do, Calder. I find myself looking at a future among your people, and despite how foreign many things in Skyrim are to me, I do not find it disagreeable.”

“I can feel it. I can hear the singing from Shor’s Hall in the wind. I look out the window and am surprised when there’s no bridge of whalebone waiting for me. I look up expecting to see the light of Aetherius instead of the moons.”

“What is there for me, down there, except pain and the knowledge that I am past my usefulness? I cannot return to Cyrodiil. I am certainly cast out of the College of Whispers. Now that Alduin is gone, dragons killed by others will stay dead. I would say I have only the clothes on my back but I believe these particular robes are actually Borri’s.”

“No, no. She was concerned that you were going to harm me, I think.” An echo of a heartbeat sounded behind him, resonating with his own. He sent another flicker of magicka in the heartbeat’s direction, just to be certain. “And she didn’t run off, she’s watching us from that juniper grove. I’m certain she can hear every word we’re saying.”

“I am called Khemor gro-Skaven, these men are my housecarls, Gregor and Calder. I am Thane to the High King of Skyrim, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. We were fortunate that our paths crossed with Borgakh today; she provided us with a great service.”

“For good or ill, I am seen as a symbol of Ulfric’s rule. Saying a few words over some children is perhaps the least onerous way to shore up the sentiment towards it among the citizenry. It’s certainly the easiest on the Jagged Crown’s coffers.”

“Friga, you belong in Aetherius. In Sovngarde. You fought to remain here, alive, but your fight is over now. Tsun is waiting for you.”

“Hardly--the only sea close to Skaven is the sand of the Sunforge. And Skyrim is my home now. When I’m on the road, it’s Hjerim that my thoughts turn towards, not Hammerfell.”

“Borgakh is a traveling companion. Nothing more," he said. "Her stronghold is the closest settlement to the source of the vampire activity, and they have experienced attacks over the years. She is accompanying me to Fort Dawnguard to offer her assistance for the sake of her clan.”

“My master was a once-in-ten-generations creative intellect when it came to the ebb and flow of magicka, delving into the secrets of the arcane, and uncovering the mysteries of Oblivion. This creativity did not extend to choosing a name for an Orsimer foundling.”

“YOL!” His mouth filled with heat, the feeling of solid matter becoming light, heat, and ash on his tongue.

“TOOR!” The ferocity of the troll’s heartbeat was eclipsed by the energy held within his own as the heat increased, burning even the ash.

“SHUL!” The inside of Khemor’s skin felt the oven-like heat of the sun over the Alik’r desert, even as the outside felt the cool dampness of the forest.

"You hold my heart and soul in your hands, Borgakh the Steel-Heart. Please," his voice dropped into a husky whisper. "Please don't let them break." He pushed their hands and the soul gem against her chest. "Keep them safe."

“When I married you it was with the knowledge that I will likely spend more of my life grieving you than at your side.”

[crustaceousfaggot]

Hob Gadling traditional folk music collection.

Been thinking about a sort of Hob Gadling character playlist composed entirely of British folk music. Songs he might have listened to throughout his life and resonated with. This is also just a little excuse for me to share some of my favorite folk songs from across the history of the British Isles :) Most of these are British in origin, but a couple are Scottish.

Some of these choices are loosely based on the fic And In The Waking World We Want And Wait by @qqueenofhades because at this point it's basically canon to me and has considerably influenced my perception of the character. Furthermore, I'm writing this with Dreamling in mind because... Well because I want to.

I'm attaching recordings for each piece, but keep in mind that, by the nature of folk music, songs (both melody and lyrics, as well as accompaniment and performance choices) are intrinsically altered in every performance and there is no single correct interpretation of a piece. If you don't like the recordings I picked, I encourage you to seek out your own :)

I am not a music historian, just a classical singer with a love of traditional folk and a cursory education on music history.

Lastly, keep in mind that folk music in the Late Medieval and Early Modern music exists in a much different form than it does today, both in its lyrical and melodic content. Of the songs surviving from that period, the majority are liturgical in nature. Those that aren't are generally about farming, changing seasons, and (of course) drinking. I've done my best, but most of these pieces aren't perfect fits. Still, what character playlist is?

Arranged in rough chronological order.

1200s: "Sumer is icumen in" (composer unknown) (Note: This song is the oldest recorded English language folk song. I think that's pretty neat.)

Sumer is icumen in Loude sing cuccu (cuckoo) Groweth sed (seed) and bloweth (bloometh) med (meadow) and springeth the worlde new

(Full text)

~1450: "Tappster, Drinker" (unknown composer)

Tappster, Drinker, fill another ale, Anonn God sende us good sale. Avale the stake, avale, here is good ale y founde. Drynke to me and y to the and lette the cuppe goe rounde.

(This is, as far as I can tell, the full text)

~1513: "Pastime with Good Company" (King Henry VIII)

Youth must have some dalliance Of good or ill some pastance Company methinks then best All thoughts and fancies to digest. For idleness Is chief mistress Of vices all Then who can say. but mirth and play Is best of all.

(Full text)

1500s: "The Ballad of Tamlin" (composer unknown) (Note: Yes this one is @landwriter 's fault. Go read Oaths. Also, I'm using one of many translations of the original ballad, but there's also an excellent folk punk adaptation by The Forgetmenauts which you should listen to if you like the story. Generally, I'm not doing this ballad any justice with my little 2-line snippet and I encourage you to look into it more yourself.)

"For if my love were an earthly knight as he is an elfin grey, I'd not change my own true love for any knight you have."

(Full text)

~1580-1650: "Greensleeves" (composer unknown)

Alas, my love you do me wrong To cast me off discourteously And I have loved you so long Delighting in your company

I have been ready at your hand to grant whatever you would crave; I have both wagered life and land Your love and good will for to have

(Full text)

1700s: "A Maid in Bedlam" (composer unknown)

My love he'll not come near me To hear the moan I make, And neither would he pity me If my poor heart should break, But, though I've suffer'd for his sake, Contented will I be, For I love my love Because I know he first loved me.

(Full Text)

1800s: Black is The Colour of My True Love's Hair (composer unknown) (Note: although the most famous variations of this piece are from 20th century America, the piece is believed to have originated in Scotland some time in the 19th century.)

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair, His lips are something rosy fair, The fairest face and the gentlest hands I love the grass wheron he stands.

(Full text)

1813: "The Last Rose of Summer" (Thomas Moore) (Note: I was a bit conflicted about adding this one. The song is about the pain of losing those you love to time, and the loneliness that comes from outlining your companions, both of which are sentiments I feel are very applicable to Hob. However, the song also implies that death is a mercy in the face of such loneliness, which obviously doesn't align with Hob's worldview.)

'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh.

(Full text)

1902: "Whither Must I Wander" (Ralph Vaughan Williams, from the song cycle "Songs Of Travel") (Note: This is technically not a true folk song but shhhhh. This was the song that inspired this whole list because I absolutely adore Vaughan Williams and particularly this cycle.)

Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child. Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland; Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.

(Full text)

1904: "In Dreams" (Ralph Vaughan Williams, from "Songs of Travel") (Note: I will not apologize for using two pieces from the same cycle. Y'all don't understand I'm so autistic about these songs. Also, I had to pick at least one song with "Dream" in the title haha.)

In dreams unhappy, I behold you stand As heretofore: The unremember'd tokens in your hand Avail no more. [...] He came and went. Perchance you wept awhile And then forgot. Ah me! but he that left you with a smile Forgets you not.

(Full text)

1946: "Come you not from Newcastle?" (Arr. Benjamin Britten, original composer unknown) (Note: Although the text of the song itself doesn't necessarily have any strong Hob Vibes, the most widely known arrangement of this piece was done by Benjamin Britten, one of the country's most famed composers and also a fairly open homosexual. This, combined with the text of the song and the time that this arrangement was written, gives the song a distinctly queer vibe, at least to me, and so it makes the list. The recording attached is by Britten's life partner, Peter Pears.)

Why should I not love my love? Why should not my love love me? Why should I not speed after him, Since love to all is free?

(Full Text)

And that's all of them! Please let me know if you have any traditional folk songs you know that fit the bill, as I'm always looking for more good traditional folk music. It holds a special place in my heart :)

Consider reblogging if you got anything out of this post, since I did spend quite awhile on it and I'd love it if it got out to the wider Sandman fandom.

Resources: 1 2 3 4

[podcastjam]

Project Spotlight #4: The Ichorous Rot

Time for another project spotlight! Today, we're chatting with Sam from The Ichorous Rot.

Tell us a bit about yourself and your teammates!

@spinning-logic: Hey-o, I'm Charlie. I will be voice acting, sound editing, and assisting in some writing for our Podcast Jam entry! My first ever fiction podcast was Welcome to Night Vale (as it is for many, I'm sure), and my current favorite is pretty squarely tied with Malevolent and The Magnus Archives--though I'm truly loving Protocol too. I'm dipping my toes into hearing even more podcasts, like WOE.BEGONE and Old Gods of Appalachia. This is the first Podcast I've ever worked on, and hopefully what I learn from it will lead to creating more!

@moookar: Hi hi hello, I’m Mooo! I’m voice acting and writing. I’ve never worked on a podcast before TIR, but boy oh boy do I have lots of experience listening: WOE.BEGONE, Malevolent, and The Grotto are some of my current favorites, and I got started listening with The Magnus Archives and Dimension 20. Most of all, I’m just a fan of any speculative fiction I can get my hands on.

@gooboogy: I'm G! I do the music and some of the voice acting for The Ichorous Rot. I've been listening to audiobooks for ages and I listened to The Adventure Zone but only really started listening to audio dramas about a year ago with The Magnus Archives and Malevolent. It's not until I listened to WOE.BEGONE that I considered doing one myself! I don't have a fav podcast, but I have some fav characters such as Lucas Miller, Elias Bouchard, Kayne, and Ty Betteridge respectively. My fav genre is when Shit Gets Weird and I love it best when there's fucked up little blorbos :3

@fluxoid: Hey there! I'm Niall! I'll be doing some of the voice work for the Ichorous Rot. I've been listening to audio drama (and actual play) podcasts for over a decade now, starting with Welcome to Night Vale (of course). Current favorites are probably WOE.BEGONE and Midst, though I'm listening to many more. This is my first foray into the creative side of things and I'm excited to see where it goes!

@falloutcoys: Hello, I'm Sam! I'll be co-writing for The Ichorous Rot. I got started listening to WTNV in 2014 but really got into audio dramas when I picked up TMA in 2021. My current favorite pods have to be Midst,Not Quite Dead and WOE.BEGONE! This will be the first show I'm involved being published, but I'm writing my own passion project as well (@aboardtheichthyoid).

What's your podcast about?

Our project is set in 1880s West Virginia. Dr. Theodore Yates as he's overwhelmed in his duties as Janesville’s only doctor by a mysterious illness spreading through the town. We follow him through a combination of his own medical notes recorded on a wax cylinder, and snippets of audio following him and his best friend Alonzo as he tries to find a way to resolve The Ichorous Rot. It's a mystery that explores the effects of working class life and generational trauma through a supernatural lens.

What are you most excited about in this event?

This event has been such a great learning opportunity and way to collaborate with others! Everyone has had great ideas and we're able to bounce off each other and flesh out the story together, which is a really unique experience.

Any advice for other participants, or those on the fence about joining?

If you've been on the fence about joining, go for it! This is a really fun experience and it has the lowest possible stakes. Worst case scenario, you've met some great people and learned about producing a podcast. Best case scenario, you make an episode you're really proud of that grows into something much bigger.

While this team is no longer looking for new members, you can follow their project here on Tumblr @theichorousrot. Additionally, with a couple days left to sign up, there's still time to join the fun and work on a Podcast Jam project yourself - find out more information here!

[girlfromthecrypt]

Hiiii. Hope you are doing wellllll

I'm going around asking some of my fav IF projects this question so here goes.

Hello!! Okay so ROs reaction to MC being asked out in front of them..? (crushing stage vs. relationship stage)

This turned into quite a long post. I've decided to write snippets for each of the characters' reactions. This first one is for Basil! I'll post the others separately. Enjoy! (read below)

Crushing stage: Basil’s back is turned to you. He stands off to the side sorting through his backpack, figuratively burying his nose in it— but he can hear you talking to the other man. He can hear you just fine.

“So, I was wondering what you were doing later?” the other man asks. There’s a slant in his voice, a curious, playful undertone. 

“Well, we were going to make a campfire to tell the kiddos some stories at,” you reply. “You know that.”

“Yes, yes, of course I do.” He laughs.

Basil thinks it sounds like a cat mewling through a cheesegrater. 

“I was thinking you might like to take a little walk together afterwards?” the other counselor goes on. 

Basil hoists his pack up with an unnecessarily loud grunt. “Fuck me, it’s hot today, isn’t it?” he calls out to you before walking right through between the two of you. He does not look back once, willing himself to think of anything besides that prick’s moronic laugh. Such a very annoying sound.

Relationship stage: Basil is lying sprawled out on the brown sofa in the lobby. Behind him, you are talking to one of your other colleagues from Cloverleaf. Just another man in an ill-fitting jacket whose name he couldn’t remember if he tried.

But he’s really drawing out that conversation, isn’t he?

“So, did you have plans for after work, because—”

“They do,” Basil says, loudly, pulling himself up to look over the sofa’s backrest. He throws the other man a rather mirthless smile. “Hi,” he mouths. “They do have plans. With me. I’m their boyfriend and we have plans.”

“That was a bit childish of you,” you tell him once your colleague has made a swift exit.

“But it’s true, no?” he replies, lifting his freckled nose almost haughtily. Then his eyes widen. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Basil is a little jealous. And petty. But he's mad about you, if that's any excuse.

[felixravinstills]

the ravinstill family is actually normal, well adjusted, and loving (i’m genuinely curious what they would look like without all that….ravinstillness)

ask game

Lily, I'm gonna be so real. I think I chose the most not fulfilling your request way to fulfill your request.

I think to try and keep them the same people while also trying to get them anywhere near normal, well-adjusted, and loving (outwardly. inwardly, I think they all genuinely care for each other. they're just bad at it), I introduced Time Traveling! Max... A character who is actively talking to his brother (wow!)

Unfortunately, we have only moved from no communication basically to... uh selective communication. And also today, we can momentarily glance over at Max's brother who I do think about a lot. He's weird too. Like in my mind... all the Ravinstills are weird.

Anyway, thanks for the ask!

Snippet below:

Felix was a loud and fussy baby.

“He’s not like that when he’s older,” Max had told him when Albanus had remarked upon it.

Albanus had nodded. He was the one who is only half-listening now as he rocked his newest grandson in his arms.

That other time— that other world, it hardly matters to him. Half the time, he’s not convinced it’s anything more than his brother’s imagination.

Besides, time proves Max wrong. Sure, Felix doesn’t cry as much, but he’s chattering away like Albanus did when he'd been that age. At the age of five, He’s all smiles and his favorite thing to do is have his parents swing him up into the air as they walk down the Corso.

Leaning his arms on the railing beside the stairway of the Presidential Palace, Albanus asks if his brother if prefers this version of Felix to the quiet one he remembers in his head. He stand in the ensuing silence, watching Max's jaw work and brow furrow.

After a moment, he shrugs.

“I should care, I think, that he’s different,” Maximinius says after another beat. He opens his mouth to speak again, and then closes it.

Albanus smiles. Both are his grandson, so to Max, it doesn't really matter if he's changed.

"Some of him is the same," Max offers, and Albanus doesn't ask him to elaborate.

He doesn’t ask why Maximinius only really talks about Marius, Gnaeus, and Felix from that other world. He only likes listening to the topic, because he knows that Max hasn't shared his supposed memories with Volumnia. It's nice having one over on her.

He watches Max watch the rest of their family— Albanus' brood of children and grandchildren. The two youngest of Albanus' grandchildren get along today which is a relief. Kassandra loves to be a little instigator, and Felix gets uncomfortable when she speaks ill of their great-uncle.

Today, she's braided his hair, and now, she's painting his nails. She's got a shade of blue for each finger, or so she says. Felix is quite excited about it.

“He’s happy now, because of what you’ve done here," Albanus tells his brother, because he needs to know that he forgives him for all the things that didn't happen.

Max looks at him. It’s a familiar expression. It’s the one he wears looking at , observing the changes.

Albanus raises a finger before he can open his mouth again.

"I don't want to know."

Maybe Albanus has changed from that imagined time in Maximinius' mind. he can’t say for sure if he has. It might be for the best that he never knows for sure.

He remembers when they were children, and his words went in one of Max's ears and out the other. His brother had always seen him as an idiot, and you don't confide in an idiot unless you're crazy enough to believe you've got some second chance at life after fucking it up the first time.

Albanus thinks he should care about that, but Max was his brother and that old world wasn't this one.

His eyes return to the scene below him.

Perhaps, that is their family's problem. They can't bring themselves to care for much of anything except each other.

The children have not yet noticed the president and their grandfather peering down at them.

Albanus shakes his head as he watches three bottles of open nail polish tip over onto the beautiful red rug.

Four teenagers and one young adult scramble to minimize the damage while Felix and Kass start pointing fingers— badly painted ones at one another. It's neither of their faults, they say.

Beside him, Max clears his throat, and all heads turn towards them.

It's not good for the children to know the extent of what they can get away with, so Albanus prepares to care about the rug.

[dreamerofvalyria]

Uncle Tiger | König x F!Reader | Part 1.

Summary: You've come down with a frightful illness and König is left to fend for himself with the children. Luckily for him, Horangi comes to the rescue. Will the two be able to manage without you?

Notes: A continuation of One Surprise, Two Surprise & Negotiations and Defeats. There will be a second part to this fic, I just didn't want it to get too long. Would people actually be interested in a proper series rather than just random snippets?

Pairing:  König x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Illness.

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

First | Prev | Next

König had been planning for today to be a fun day for you. A comfortable morning of nothing but sleeping in, cuddled up with him and not needing to worry about getting up to feed the twins. He had already defrosted some bottles of your manually expressed milk in advance, so he could feed them without disturbing you. 

Later in the day, you would head out into the city to meet up with your friends for lunch, introducing them to Lukas and Anna for the first time while König would remain at home to catch up on some of the housework that the both of you had begun to fall behind on. Afterwards, while you enjoy an afternoon of retail therapy, he would spend it catching up with Horangi.  

Unfortunately, life has recently decided that it doesn’t care what König has planned.  

You had woken up with the worst sore throat you can remember, struggling to so much as breathe without it feeling like sandpaper is being scraped down your throat. Every cough that tears through you has your body shaking violently, causing you to curl in on yourself with weak whimpers. A fierce fever has left you delirious, refusing to do anything but curl into König’s side, leeching the heat from his massive body.  

It had physically pained him to pry your arms off of him so he could get up and feed the little ones, abandoning you to a rapidly cooling bed. He does his best to be quick so he can return with some water, medicine and a mug of warm tea.  

After ensuring that you’ve downed both the painkillers and a full glass of water, König offers you another blanket, tucking you in tightly. There’s nothing he would prefer to do then climb back into bed with you and let you bury your snotty face into the crook of his neck, drooling all over him like you had been doing earlier. But he can’t risk catching whatever illness you have, not with the potential of passing it on to Lukas or Anna.  

“Is there anything else I can grab for you, liebling?” König asks quietly, half out of the door.  

You simply groan at him, burying further into the pillow under you with a huff.  

König gives a tiny laugh at the dramatics but decides to allow you to rest. He’ll check in on you again routinely, but for now he needs to focus on the two babies starting to whine from their nursery. The two little ones are laying in their shared bassinet again, grumbling at one another due to the lack of attention from their parents.  

Anna lights up when she sees her father, squealing in excitement. Her little arms flail and her legs kick out, cooing up at him and trying to reach out with grabby fingers. “Hallo, Anna,” König hums, offering one of his hands to the little girl. She grabs onto it, pulling it close to her chest so she can nuzzle her soft face against the rough calluses.  

Her brother just blinks at the two of them, accepting the hand König offers to him but barely paying it any mind. He’s always been much more interested in watching what his sister is doing than attempting to do things himself, entirely enthralled with the way Anna giggles while inspecting their father’s fingers.  

Lukas reaches out one of his own hands to try and grab the hand Anna is currently playing with, uninterested in König’s other hand. He wants the hand Anna has, not a different one. He starts to whine when he’s unable to steal it from her, kicking out in annoyance while his eyes start to fill with tears at this terribly cruel treatment.  

Anna stares her brother in the eyes, before shoving König’s hand in her mouth, gumming at one of his fingers.  

König attempts to calm Lukas by gently tickling the boy’s stomach, desperate to draw his attention before the child can start screaming. “Look, you have a hand right here,” he tries, waving it in the boy’s face. In a last-ditch effort to stop this from devolving into tears, he pulls his hand from Anna and offers it to Lukas.  

The relief he gets from seeing his son’s face light up is short lived as almost immediately Anna shrieks. Her chubby little hands start grasping for the hand unfairly stolen from her clutches, fat tears already rolling down her cheeks. “No no no, you can have this hand here, liebe,” he sighs, watching as the tiny girl swats at his hand, only wanting the one Lukas now has.  

Hostage negotiation was easier than keeping these two content.  

He eventually settles on moving both children from their crib and into the living room so that he can hopefully get some housework done while keeping them somewhat entertained. The two baby rockers you had invested in have been nothing short of a godsent, providing somewhere safe and comfortable for them to rest while you and König run around the house.  

Lukas enjoys sitting in the rocker, more than happy to relax and simply watch the world around him, waiting patiently for one of his parents to provide him with some attention. Anna, on the other hand, would quickly grow bored, whining and wriggling about to try and catch someone’s gaze. More often than not, Lukas will be playing with the brightly coloured toys attached to the rocker, while Anna excitedly squeals at her mother and father.  

Unfortunately, both babies seem to be able to sense something is amiss and are determined to make it impossible for König to get anything done. The moment he tries to step away one of them will burst into tears, screaming and sobbing and flailing about until he comes back again.  

Anna was particularly bad – always being the more social of the two – shrieking until her face was bright red and her little voice had grown hoarse. In the end, only three dishes are washed and two of them dried, before König has to give in and scoop the little girl up again. She immediately calms upon seeing her dad again, offering him her signature gummy smile when she’s lifted up and pressed against his chest.  

With a sigh, König sits down on the carpet, letting Anna rest her back against him as she sits in his lap. She’s having her own little conversation in baby-talk, one of her tiny fists gripping at the soft material of his pants. Occasionally, she will squeal at her brother, trying to draw him into her very important discussion.  

The morning is otherwise quiet, with only the soft sound of birds chattering just outside the window and König is hopeful that you’re getting some peaceful rest now that the little ones are somewhat content. The temperature has recently been much warmer in the past few weeks and the countryside seems to have sprung back to life, filling the world with newborn animals and vibrant flowers.  

It is the perfect weather for spending time outside on the grass. The outdoors is a favourite of Lukas, the little boy obsessed with the beautiful bulbs that have recently bloomed in the backyard. He grows most upset whenever König stops him from shoving any of the various plants into his mouth, staring at him like he’s just been insulted.  

Sadly, it seems that getting some fresh air recently hadn’t done you much good, judging by how ill you are.  

After a few hours have passed and they’ve had some playtime on the carpet, König sets the two babies back down again for a nap. He has the chance to check in on you again, making you down some more medication and another glass of water to ensure you’re still hydrated. You had barely touched the tea and it had long since grown cold.  

He brings you a fresh one, gently encouraging you up into a sitting position after stacking several pillows behind you to ensure you’re as comfortable as possible.  

“How are the babies?” You weakly choke out, voice scratchy and raw. You’re forced to take a sip of your tea to stop yourself from coughing too much when the irritation at the back of your throat continues to get worse.  

König perches himself on the end of the bed, wishing he could crawl closer to you, but settling for gently resting a hand on your leg. “They’re having a nap right now, but they’ll be due for feeding soon.”  

You nod, unable to really respond and instead sipping at your tea in silence. Despite the pain you’re in, it’s a comfortable silence that follows, you simply resting, battling against the urge to fall asleep while König simply offers silent support.  

A knock on the door breaks the moment and König gently pets your knee, “ah, that will probably be Horangi,” he hums, visibly cringing. In all honesty he’d completely forgotten to tell his friend that their fun day together would have to be put on hold. “Will you be okay, mein Vögelchen?” he asks softly, reaching out to gently take the mug from your hands as it was beginning to droop dangerously in your sleepy state.  

He hears you mumble something, but you’re clearly about to drift off. After placing your mug down on the bedside table, he moves your body so that you’re laying down buried under the covers.  

König closes the bedroom door as quietly as possible, before rushing toward the front door, just as another knock rings out. The sound is particularly loud in the quiet house and König holds his breath, praying that the children haven’t been disturbed. It’s all silent for several long seconds, only for the inevitable sound of sobbing to come from the nursery down the hall. 

With a sigh, König deflates a little, reaching to unlatch the chain keeping the front door closed and pulling the door open.  

“Hey König,” Horangi offers him a relaxed grin – or at least König assumes it’s a grin, it’s difficult to tell for sure with the mask covering the lower half of his face – sliding off his sunglasses, Horangi is about to step inside, when he pauses, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Is that your kids? I thought they were going to be out with the missus?” 

“She isn’t my wife... yet,” König mumbles, knowing the tips of his ears are probably bright red. He knows he always gets so flustered whenever the discussion turns to his relationship with you, blushing like a teenager talking about his first crush.  

Horangi just snickers at him as he’s led closer to the sound of crying, “König. Buddy. That woman adores you, lives in your house, looks after your grandmother while you’re away and has had your children.” 

“Ja, I know, I know,” König huffs, picking at his fingernails. He would love to marry you, but the thought of actually having to propose? That’s enough to set every single one of his nerves alight. He doesn’t doubt you would agree to it, not with how many times you’ve proven how dedicated you are to your relationship with him, but anxiety is a cruel beast.  

He forces himself to shake off the thoughts, finally answering his friend’s question. “Unfortunately, she is quite sick at the moment, so we will be watching the children while she rests. If... If that’s alright with you, of course, I know you came here so we could game, bu-” 

Horangi quickly cuts his nervous rambling short by waving his hand, unbothered. “Relax, I’m sure we can play another time. I was far more interested in meeting my niece and nephew anyway,” he grins, shoving his hands in his pockets.  

“Your niece and nephew?” König asks, chuckling.  

“We are brothers in all but blood, no?” the man hums, “that makes your family my family.” 

When they reach the nursery, König can clearly see that Anna is the one creating all the racket, little arms flailing about to ensure her displeasure is known. He picks up Lukas first, handing him off to Horangi before gently shushing the girl when he leans over the cradle again, scooping her up and automatically starting to bounce her up and down.  

Horangi accepts the small boy from him, leaning Lukas back so he can rest comfortably against his arm, staring up at him. “Annyeong, Lukas,” Horangi coos, lowering his mask so he can offer the young child a smile, “I’m your keunappa.” The baby is entirely unperturbed by the large gash on the side of the man’s face, blinking up at him with a curious coo.  

König can’t help smiling slightly when Lukas starts chattering away to Horangi, tiny hands playing with the mask hanging in front of him. “Lukas isn’t usually so talkative, especially with strangers,” he admits, happy that the boy is comfortable with being held by Horangi.  

“That’s because I’m his favourite samchon,” the other man offers König a toothy grin, clearly very pleased with himself.  

König snorts, rolling his eyes, “Hong-jin, you’re his only uncle.”  

Horangi simply sniffs, indignant. “Good, then there will be no doubt that I am clearly the best.”  

He laughs a little harder at that, genuinely touched that Horangi seems to be so invested in his honourary niece and nephew. “Well, I’m glad you like them both already,” he grins, brushing a kiss over the top of Anna’s head, “I’m sure we’ll be just fine looking after them on our own.” 

And just like that, König manages to jinx everything.  

[missrandomdreamer]

Apple Pickin'

~Smoker x (OC) Beatrice Snippet~

(Note: Vermouth is the owner of the pub Beatrice works at and is a father figure to her ;3 also reference of Smoker's outfit form the One Piece Grand Collection thanks to One Piece Grand Collection for archiving this photo because oof i love this outfit) Also pretty much wrote this and didn't look back so sorry if there is a bit of erros >>

A bear claw reached up and plucked an apple from the branch before it was placed in a wicker basket. A soft song came from the woman as she picked apples one by one. "Beatrice! You have company!" Vermouth called from the farm house yards away. Beatrice felt her lips twitch into a smile before she peaked through the large boughs of the apple tree in time to see her visitor: Vice Admiral Smoke, come down the steps of the weathered farm house. Today he wasn't in his marine attire perhaps trying to blend in more wearing a leather jacket, olive green button up with tight jeans. She watched him from her hidden spot before bringing up her legs completely hiding her from view. Her hazel eyes could still see Smoker who now looked confused as he looked from tree to tree. She had to admit-it was a very cute look on him. She suppressed a giggle as she still walked around confused.

"Bea?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Smoker thanked the older gentleman who gestured to the backdoor of the farm. "Beatrice should be out there picking apples-somewhere. I haven't seen her in awhile, but the basket of apples is growing." Vermouth shrugged and gave a tired smile, "That girl doesn't know when to take a break, make sure she gets one, Admiral." He patted Smoker's shoulder causing the Vice Admiral to crack a smile, cigars hanging from his lips.

"Ill try, you know how stubborn she can be." The old man laughed shaking his head,

"Don't I know it. Good luck with her." Vermouth hobbled back into his home leaving Smoker to attempt to find the bear woman hiding in the orchard. The air was crisp, somewhere close by someone was burning leaves. Smoker took in a deep breath, his body feeling at ease. This had started occur since coming to visit Beatrice-he started to feel less uptight. Speaking of which-

"Bea?" Smoker eyebrows furrowing slightly looking from tree to tree, peeking up into the bows, "Bea? Where are you?" He kept looking from left to right until suddenly heard a hush of leaves behind him. He had just turned around and look up when something-someone jumped down from the tree. Smoker let out a yell in surprise as he felt a weight on him, knocking the breath out of him and crushing his bits---a bit. He grunted in pain as he looked up to see Beatrice sat on top of him, a large grin on her face,

"Boo!" She giggled as she took an apple from the basket on her arm, taking a bite out of it smirking. "Good to see you Smoky."

Smoker just laid there, wind knocked out of him, and his nether regions crushed just looked up at her with wide brown eyes and his face burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger, quickly spreading across his face: his cigars had fallen out of his mouth which he held agape. There was Beatrice straddling him as if it was the most normal thing to do, her smoky mousy hair cascading over her chest in waves, hazel eyes full of mischief, and maroon colored lips smiling down at him. She was wearing dark brown turtleneck sweater and patched up short overalls but the most endearing part of her appearance were the leaves stuck in her hair form being up in the tree.

"Beatrice!? What-what the hell was that for?" he breathed. " I could have hit you!"

Beatrice just laughed, "But you didn't and anyway I would have dodged it." taking another bite of the apple. He watched her swallow the piece of fruit before his brown eyes flickered away from her throat up to her hazel eyes, they were shining. "I actually wanted to jump on your back but this works to. Your lap is very comfortable." Bea laid down on his chest, still straddling him, chin resting in her hand, Smoker's face flushed, " I wanted to surprise you. Are you surprised?" Smoker grunted, he wanted to move his legs but he was to afraid too. "Y-Yes, very." Beatrice grinned again and put the apple she had been eating to his lips.

"Good-have a bite. These apples are absolutely delicious." Smoker nodded and took a bite, making the the bear woman smile, her soft ears twitchy cutely, before she slid off of him. Smoker sat up quickly, as she removed the apple from his mouth swallowing the piece of fruit looking away sheepishly, also trying not to choke. The bear woman looked down at him, head cocking like a curious bear cub before taking another bite. " I'm glad you are here. I'm almost finished up here, care to help, you can take some back to your boat?"

Smoker sighed, taking out two cigars then lighting them. He suddenly reached out and removed the leaves in Beatrice's hair eliciting a small blush from the woman. With one of the leaves he bopped her on the nose, her hazel eyes widening at him causing him to grin. " Yeah I'll help ya, Bea, but no more tricks."

Beatrice grinned and put out her bear claw of a hand, "All right deal." He just shook his head before shaking her hand. The two then took to it, Beatrice scurrying up the tree with ease while Smoker held the basket. The vice admiral watched her and couldn't help have a smile on his lips. With each time they met-she too seemed to let down the dark and intimidating facade.

It didn't mean she still couldn't be scary as hell but when it was just the two of them like this, doing the most mundane things, she seemed a lot happier and playful-sweet: attributes Smoker didn't want to admit he found endearing. Smoker just watched her move with ease in the tree trying not to stare at her backside and the little cute nub of a tail, nor the way he saw her muscles move or the way her hair look incredible soft in the afternoon light. Smoker coughed, shit, he didn't want to admit...maybe he had it bad for the woman...maybe.

"Smoker do you need some water?" Beatrice looked down from the tree eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he shook his head and waved his gloved hand in front of him,

"No-no I'm fine."

"Okay..if you are sure."

The two worked on, mostly in silent but comfortable in the silence of each other. By the time they were done, the sun would be setting in an hour or so. Vernmouth came out and waved them in,

"That's enough for the day you two. You both did more than enough." The old man grinned, "Feel free to take a basket home with you-each of you. "

"Thanks Vern-" Beatrice came up and gave him a hug and he just patted her head before she pulled back. Smoker just gave the man a handshake,

"Thanks, appreciate it." With that the two set off, each with a basket of fresh apples. They walked side by side-Beatrice flexed her bear claw and attempted to rush Smoker's hand but the man seemed to be lost in thought. She cleared her throat, Smoker's soft brown eyes looked over to her,

"You know-it will be dark pretty soon. You could stay at my place for the night."

Smoker laughed, "I ain't afraid of the dark, Bea. I could make it to the ship just fine." Beatrice frowned and looked away,

"Well-I thought you would be tired after all that labor and you might want to stay in a nice little cottage, with a warm fire and a good meal for the night." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, pouting. Smoker didn't answer her. "Not to mention, a comfortable bed to sleep in, better than that hammock you are used to on the ship."

Smoker furrowed his eyebrows, "You only have one bed." He turned to look at her and she met his gaze and smiled, her eyes looking a bit mischievous again,

"Oh I know-I don't mind sharing." Smoker nearly choked on his cigars and looked away, "I have a couch too, but it might be just a tad less comfortable then the queen size bed, and all those warm blankets." She shrugged.

Again Smoker couldn't answer her, his face felt heated. Silence again, came between them. Beatrice would steal glances at Smoker, trying to gauge his mood but his face was unreadable, except maybe for the blush now on his cheeks but that could just be the glow from the setting sun. Smoker didn't turn to look at her even though he felt her eyes on him. He heard her make a small noise before she bumped up against him causing another shiver to run through him.

" Smokey?"

"Hm?"

"Can you give me a piggy back ride?" Beatrice's voice came out a lot softer than her usual tone, perhaps she was embarrassed at the request. Smoker turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowed , cigars forever puffing, had he heard her right?

"What?"

Beatrice looked at him, perhaps a tad shy. She twisted a piece of her soft mousy hair around one of her bear claws, " Piggy back ride...Can I get a piggy ride back please."

"Do your feet hurt?" She shook her head no. Smoker furrowed his eyebrows more, " Did you hurt ankle?"

Beatrice felt her face heat up, "No- I just thought...

"Then why would I-?" Beatrice looked away blushing and lips pouted,

"Oh never mind." she snapped, her tone not angry just tired and perhaps a bit sad.

Once more silence, before Smoker just huffed and stomped in front of her, "All right Bea, get on, and stop that pouting." He grumbled, hiding his face from her. He heard a little excited 'eep!' before she scampered up onto his back. He felt her weight against him and her face rest against the back of his head. Her lower bear arms and claws draped over his shoulders while he held on to her legs.

He then felt a soft kiss flutter on the back of his neck causing another shiver to race up his spine, "Thanks Smoker." her breath warm and gentle against his skin. Smoker just grunted and cleared his throat,

"Hm. Whatever. Don't get used to it though, I'm not going to be letting you do this all the time."

Beatrice laughed, "How about only on special occasions?" "This isn't a special occasion."

"It's special to me." she said factually. "And you never answered my question?"

"What question?" Smoker adjusted his placement on how he was holding her, shifting his weight slightly, adjusting the basket of apples on his arm along with still holding on to Beatrice.

Beatrice sighed exasperated, "Are you staying over or what? Or am I going to spend a lovely fall night all alone?" He could practically hear her pouting. "Hmph." Smoker let smoke out through his nose, he chewed on his cigars a bit harder. He didn't want to admit it but he really wanted to. Not just because yeah, sleeping in a home would be nice instead of sleeping on the ship but he wanted to be with her. Though in his heart he knew it would be not wise. He couldn't -he shouldn't. "I can't keep seeing her like this....I should just cut ties now. I don't want to hurt her." He sighed to himself, he felt her lean more on to him, perhaps trying to turn her head to see his face.

"Smoker?" her voice was soft in his ears.

" I want to though...I want to be with her but I know with her living here and me being a marine-I don't know how long it's going to work out for us." "Hey Smoker...are you okay?" Smoker felt a gentle touch on his exposed skin, the skin that was peaking out from his button up shirt. He jolted and his grasp suddenly tighten on her as if she would suddenly disappear from him.

"Yes... I'm fine." he paused exhaling a breath, releasing his touch ever so slightly on her. "I'll stay over...if it isn't trouble." he muttered. He shouldn't but he would. Who knew how long he would get to be with her, might as well take all the time he could get.

"Wait what really!? You will?" Beatrice gasped and hugged him his neck causing him to choke.

"Be-Beatrice choking!"

"Oh-oh sorry I'm just happy!" she nuzzled her nose into the back of his neck causing that little tremor through his body, "I'm so happy you are here, Smoker." her voice going softer. Smoker just huffed a laugh, gently patting her legs, his chest tightening.

"Yeah...me too."

~The End~

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Are you going to write more stories for Mythic Mumbattan (pleasepleaseple-)

[deep breath]

Yes my dear anon, I shall be writing more mmau stuff, it’s so hard not to because going insane over it is like my full time job. Yes the little guys make me ill. yes I’ll keep writing about them <3

I know I am not Writing as much as before but trust me when I say I still think about it a lot. Literally nothing else is in my mind. To make up for my silence, I’ll give you a snippet of the upcoming fic:

Manjula and Rijul and their (pre-transmasc) kid Pavitr. Or Parvati. Who now goes by Pavitr. You’ll get it once I actually buckle myself down and write it lol

(snippet is also under the cut if the image doesn’t load)

Upon seeing her, Manjula smiled and said, ‘Hello, Maya! Been a long time, hasn’t it?’

Setting down the tray on the table set between the couch and chairs, Maya handed her a cup of coffee. ‘Manjula, I missed you,’ she said with faux sadness but still with that tenderness she reserved for her friend, her family. ‘What has Rijul dragged you into this time?’

Rijul coughed, taking his cup from Maya’s outstretched hand. ‘Nothing!’ he said indignantly, readjusting his glasses. ‘Well, I didn’t have any plans for today. Parvi wanted to see you guys again.’

As if on cue, Parvati wailed and tried climbing up Bhim’s leg, babbling out a string of sounds. She moved too much for Maya to give Bhim his cup of coffee without it being knocked over, so she instead sat beside Bhim on a metal framed chair, watching as her niece playfully tugged at Bhim’s veshti.

Parvati Prabhakar looked a lot like her father, and thus a lot like her uncle, too — Maya could pick out the wide nose she saw on Bhim, and her warmer, darker skin tone was from her father. The thick, sloping eyebrows was another thing she shared with Rijul, but Parvati’s hair, braided tightly and intricately and tied off at the end with a plastic flower hair tie, was much thicker and silkier than her father or Bhim’s wispy, greying hair. Maya assumed it came from her mother, and she couldn’t help but point it out.