#he doesn't have a full name yet

[hannah-heartstrings]

Local Rule

Some of the Cheydinhal Guards explain an unusual rule to a new recruit.

@druidx @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed

---------

            Stepping out of the barracks and into the dim morning light, Fairwyn crossed the courtyard where Garrus was already talking to a young redguard.

            “You’ll be joining my second in command to patrol the town, to help you get to know Cheydinhal.” Hearing steps, he glanced back. “Ah, here she is now. Fairwyn, this is the new recruit, Atticus.”

            With a wide smile, he saluted her. “I’m at your command, ma’am.”

            “Sir,” Garrus corrected.

            “Sorry, sir,” he looked nervous.

            She remained stoic. “At ease.”

            He dropped his hand.

            “I can take it from here,” she looked to Garrus.

            His voice softened. “Just go easy on him?”

            “I only whip into shape when necessary, sir.”

            “Thank you.”

            She gave a quick smile before he walked away.

            “So,” Atticus looked eager, “where to first?”

            She held up a finger as she watched Garrus disappear down the path.

            He looked confused.

            Marcus slid up beside Fairwyn. “Is he gone?”

            “He’s gone,” she turned back to the recruit who was now scared. “There’s something you’re going to need to know, that they wouldn’t have told you in the Imperial City, a… local rule. It’s important that you know it but also that you don’t tell the captain about it.”

            He raised a brow.

            “There’s a girl who comes around every so often, Lecrinn.”

            “A Hero of Kvatch,” Marcus added.

            “We’ll point her out to you when we see her, but whenever we do see her we have to make sure the captain is off duty.”

            “Wha-” his lips pursed in confusion, “why?”

            Marcus smirked. “Well, she’ll make sure he is either way, it’s easiest if you’re on her side, like how you don’t sail against a storm.”

            “And if we do, he’s less stressed and she closes more Oblivion gates,” she said plainly, Marcus adding, “But mostly we’ve just all gotten attached to the two of them.”

            His gaze shifted from one to the other. “Are you two hazing me?”

            He narrowed his eyes, annoyed. “She won’t let me haze you.”

            “I assure you we are being completely serious; it’ll make sense when you meet her.”

            Atticus looked uneasy at that.

            “I’ll brief you on the procedures later but I wanted you to know about it in case she shows up before I get to.”

            “There…” his worried confusion grew, “are procedures?”

            “Well of course, you can’t just rearrange shifts at random,” she flicked a glance at Marcus, “that’s chaos.”

            “Hey, I had to get him to stop working somehow, and she was right there offering, so.”

            She turned to him with a flat glare. “It was a security risk.”

            “So was he! I thought the man was going to spontaneously combust!”

            “You left the castle gate unguarded for thirty minutes.”

            “Nothing happened.”

            “How would you know?” Her shoulders rose as she leaned towards him. “No one was guarding it!”

            Atticus slowly raised a hand. “Um…”

            They looked at him.

            He waved the hand nervously. “Aren’t we not guarding right now?”

            Straightening, Fairwyn quickly regained her composure. “Technically our shift doesn’t start till the bell rings, which I’d say is in another…” squinting, she glanced up, “7 minutes.”

            Marcus lowered his brows, tone flattening. “She has it all figured out, trust me, you can’t get away with anything with her around.”

            Her lips curled slightly in subtle pride.

            Atticus gave a slow nod, still nervous. “May I ask a question?”

            “Of course,” she said, “I appreciate questions from new recruits.”

            “How has the captain not noticed you’re all doing this?”

            Marcus smirked. “For that he’d have to be able to see anything else when she was around.”

            Fairwyn’s serious demeanor finally broke with a barely held laugh.

[whumpcereal]

the kennel, part eighteen

part of the kennel (masterlist here). follows poor will's breakdown; just a little look into his headspace. this one's short, but it came to a natural end, and i didn't want to switch gears on will.

content warnings for: implied aftermath of noncon, dehumanization, destructive self-talk, shock collars, cages, captivity whump, pet whump, adult language

part eighteen, this is his life

Will doesn’t fight when Annie slips the mitts back on his hands. He doesn’t flinch when she buckles the collar back around his bandaged throat, and he sinks to his hands and knees like the pathetic animal he is. He couldn’t eat when Annie tried to feed him. It was real food too—sliced turkey and some applesauce—but he couldn’t even look at it without feeling sick. He can’t look at Annie either, and he doesn’t want her to look at him. She knows. She knows what Tommy did to him. She knows what he is. 

Will knows it too. 

Like, he knew it before; it isn’t like Doc hasn’t made it absolutely clear how fucking worthless Will is since the moment he took them. And it isn’t like Will needed Doc to remind him. He’s always known. If he were worth more–well, he wouldn’t be here, would he? His mom wouldn’t have left, his dad would have tried harder. Jessie would have loved him. And Tommy–Tommy wouldn’t have–

Tommy had to. Will knows that. But he doesn’t know why. Why isn’t he ever enough? Why does it always have to hurt so much? 

And this is worse too. Worse because it should be surprising, but somehow, it isn’t. Of course this would happen to him.

Will stares down at his clubbed hands and waits for Annie’s command. 

“Will?” 

He shakes his head. He doesn’t know why, but it doesn’t feel like his name anymore. He doesn’t deserve one. He’s a mutt. That’s all there is to it.

Annie crouches down beside him. He can see her hand twitch, like she wants to touch him, but she stops herself. Probably because he’s disgusting. It doesn’t matter that she’s just cleaned every fucking inch of his body. He’s still dirty. He’ll be dirty forever. No one should want to touch him ever again. He almost hopes they never will. For a second, the fuzzy memory of Tommy’s touch hangs on his skin, and he thinks he might be sick for the millionth time in however many hours.

Annie must see it, because her next breath is sharp. “He’ll be back soon.” Doc, she means. “We need to–” she gestures toward the door to the kennel.

Will nods without looking at her. He needs to go back to his cage. He wants to. Just for a little while. He doesn’t want anyone to look, he doesn’t want anyone to touch, he just wants to be left alone. Not even so he can pretend that it didn’t happen or that it won’t happen again. For all that he’s a worthless mutt, he isn’t stupid. Just–he needs the space to breathe. To be invisible for as long as they’ll let him. 

“He won’t–I don’t think that–” Annie stumbles over her words, and normally, Will would think it’s adorable, but just now, he doesn’t feel much of anything. That’s probably for the best. If he felt everything he could, he’d shatter. And it wouldn’t if he did. It won’t stop any of what’s going to happen from happening. This is his life. This is what he’s got. What, apparently, he deserves.

Tears prick at his eyes again because of course they do. Who needs dignity in a place like this? Not Will fucking Cartwright, that’s for sure.

“I’ll try to make sure that he doesn’t—I’ll try,” Annie whispers, her mouth close to his ear. “I’ll do what I can.”

It doesn’t matter, Will thinks. And it doesn’t. Doc will use Will however he wants to, and they both know it. 

Will starts forward on his hands and knees, wincing a little; he still feels like he’s made of raw hamburger inside and out. The door is closed, and Annie scrambles to open it so that he can go through. It’s dark in the big room, and the other pets are already in their cages. Most of them are asleep, but Will feels a few eyes on him as he crawls past. Poor stupid mutt. Even these broken bastards pity him. Blush rises in Will’s cheeks, and he’s glad of the dark.

“Hey,” one of them whispers. A man, or someone that used to be one. Will is too afraid to stop, too afraid to even look over his shoulder, but he listens. The man’s words are kind of funny, like he has a mouthful of marbles. “Keep your chin up, kid. Don’t let him break you.” 

Will would laugh if he could. He’s already broken. No substitutions, exchanges, or refunds. 

“Justin—“ Annie says, a weird kind of urgency in her voice, and the man groans as he settles back in his cage.

“Just—don’t give up.”

“He won’t,” Annie replies, and this time, she does reach down to touch Will’s hair. Her touch is gentle, but it lands on Will like a ton of bricks. He flinches, and Annie’s hand snaps back. 

“I’m sorry,” she says miserably. Again. She’s always apologizing. Will doesn’t know why. There’s no point. He’s not worth the effort.

She steps ahead of him to open the door to his cage, and Will sits back on his heels, the way Doc likes. Except this time, the pressure on his ass is too much, and he folds forward over his knees, letting his forehead find the cool cement. He’d whimper, but it isn’t worth adding any more electricity to today’s total. Fuck, he probably could’ve lit up the whole place earlier if anyone had stuck a lightbulb in his mouth. He’d much rather a lightbulb than Tommy.

At least the bandages Annie wrapped around his throat cut down on the chafing. At least he doesn’t have to think of anything to say. At least he can go back inside his cage.

He crawls head-first into the crate, folding his legs up beneath him; he knows Annie won’t touch him, not if his backside is to the door. Not after what she knows happened. She wouldn’t dare.

And she doesn’t. The cage door closes gently behind him, the wire grate pressing against his toes, and Will is relieved when he hears the click of the lock. 

It’s over for now, then. For now, if he isn’t safe, at least he can pretend to be. 

“Get some rest,” Annie says softly. 

Will is asleep before Annie rises from her knees, but he doesn’t know that she stays there, watching his back and rise and fall until she’s satisfied with the rhythm of his breath.

taglist: @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @sparrowsage, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @highwaywhump, @squishablesunbeam, @hold-him-down, @whumpsday, @sowhumpful, @termsnconditions-apply, @irishwhiskeygrl, @deltaxxk, @d-cs, @whumpinggrounds, @canislycaon24, @considerablecolors, @starlit-darkness, @scp-1296, @flowersarefreetherapy, @morning-star-whump, @whumpwhittler, @susiequaz12, @whump-world, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @tasteywhumpee, @whumplr-reader, @sad-boys-anonymous,

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you–” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[rascal-rose]

I just saw your Peppino and Anton post as kids and OMFG THEY'RE SO CUTEEEE!!!

All jokes aside, if Peppino and Anton do met each other when they were little, do you think that they would recognize each other when they met again in the future?

I imagine they only met once as kids

it would take em a minute, but pep could never fully forget that weird bright red kid that was jerk

While bumping into each other occasionally as young adults, they started to hang out regularly (and actually learn each other's names) when anton became a full time exterminator and pep got his business up and running

[spiritofpassionfruit]

A–Aventio TGCF idea?? Wherein Civil God Veritas Ratio meets the infamous Ghost King Aventurine during his first mission cuz cuz like— The "live for me" paralels?!? The one who has all the luck partner as well?!? The villain who was actually not the Villain this whole time!?!? The loving humanity a little too much it causes their downfall !?!?!?

Rant AU in the tags proceed with caution

[agapestricken]

[cacw]

more ocs

[numbbrainstrorm]

My first step to cure my burnt out.

I like it, if you don't that's okay bc I DON'T CARE abt your unwanted opinion.

Now if you excuse Me I'm gonna go and cri to my imaginary bestie/ boyfriend / only friend

[thesylverlining]

So, I, Um.... Yeah.

Perchance To Dream

Chapter One: First, The Storm

"There, there, you're all right now," I gently lied, as I lay him down to rest. And then, I told the truth, with all my heart. "And it will be all right. The room is dry, Sherlock. The waters are far, far from you, and they will not enter as long as I am here. Now rest. I will only be a moment." "Promise, John?" he asked, voice still high, faint, brittle. It was my name he'd said, I insisted to myself, most firmly. Mine.

(A fanfiction for Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened; Frogwares videogame series)

[welcometogrouchland]

EXTREMELY CRUSTY but I’ve been working on oc designs in between DC prompts. My little meow meows im so sorry i neglected you (i will inevitably do it again </3)

[enniewritesathing]

don't worry, he's not gonna eat you

[crossdressingdeath]

Nothing more painful than wanting to talk about an OC that isn't well established enough to talk about yet. Ask me about Percy except don't because he won't have an appearance until I can access the CC or a backstory until I know the canon backstory or a detailed personality until I start engaging with dialogue options.

[thegroundhogdidit]

i think a lot about the casual queer representation in bbc uncle but can we talk about how errol WANTED to be asexual and that's not framed as a joke in any way

[nei-ning]

[thanatoseyes]

So we're in Avernus in my DND campaign and I play Hysteria a purple tiefling, fighter/warlock, my patron being Asmodeus, grand pa pa. We passed this mirror ice wall and my first instinct was to shatter it but I didn't. Instead hysteria was granted a wish. And you know what she wished for? For Asmodeus to be free. It didn't actually work entirely. But it did loosen a few chains and I think she started the apocalypse.

[airyairyaucontraire]

Finally got around to watching Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake, I'm up to ep 3, and a) greatly enjoyed the flagrant Sailor Moon tribute of the first episode opening and b) it just makes me so happy seeing Finn as a grown-up man. Even if his voice isn't Commander Riker. (I know it makes much more sense that adult Finn's voice is simply adult Jeremy Shada, it was just so delightful when Jonathan Frakes voiced the grown-up Finn in "Puhoy," he was so hearty.) He's so big and strong! He's confident and happy! He has (Jim Broadbent voice) a great big bushy beard!

He should probably get those back wounds from episode two looked at!