#idk what this is but my brain made me write it

[corseque]

I honestly just wanted one single plot step that I could not predict given the 10 year wait. More behind the cut, I talk about Emet too, and I'm comparing his writing favorably to Solas' writing and why it worked better for me personally, but I am just talking about the writing skill that went into the games and not the dudes themselves, I love them both dearly of course. idk this is a mess and I am not going to edit it for clarity

For me, the game was a series of me saying

"ok I knew that. cool."

"oh yeah, I knew that. I guess it's good that the larger fandom knows about that now."

"nice, but yeah I already knew that too"

"that was something we've been talking about a lot for years"

"this thing they are acting like is a huge enormous reveal that the characters could not possibly have deduced through simply thinking about it in depth over the 10 years... the fans easily figured out by thinking about it in depth 10 years ago. So you would think his girlfriend would be able to figure it out more easily than we did. Like, why couldn't the game have been like 'oh lavellan already figured that out a while ago' it would have cost them nothing"

"this is something I've been thinking about for years, and now that it's being revealed, the companions' reactions to it are very irritating and jarring and unnecessary and I really dislike the experience I'm having right now, in this, the hour of my greatest triumph"

"this thing that is happening on my screen right now is something that I wrote an essay about 2 years ago describing how it would be a letdown if it happened without the correct setup"

"this way that they're characterizing Solas makes him less likable and less interesting than I have been finding him for all these years, and I have had people tell me 'no, he's simpler than you think' for years but I guess I was wrong, he really is simpler than I thought, so that fucking sucks. I wish I could take that information out of my brain."

"this thing is a retcon of information I have been thinking about for 10 years, and so I don't know how to follow along with this new direction, and I'm not sure if I even want to because it's not particularly interesting anyway"

"aw that was sweet"

"why is it like, so very impossible to have an honest back-and-forth with my favorite character about the dilemma that was most interesting to me about the previous game"

and then, as soon as, like, the other fans had caught up to the Solas lore that was really obvious from the other games, the game was.... over without anything surprising happening, or introducing a new element or plot point or perspective, or a real true twist (or two, or three) for those of us who have thought about it too hard for too long. It was very simple and easy, much, much, much, much easier than I was imagining. It all felt sort of like that Nicholson quote:

The thing was, the whole story was so interesting to think about because in 10 years, I couldn't figure out a good solution to it!!!!! It's why I was never able to write post-game fanfic about it. So I was stoked to find out some reveal we never knew about, some new information, in maybe a SERIES of steps of new information, that made the situation more complicated but also something that could be navigated by everyone involved. I know it was asking for a lot, but they had TEN YEARS, and they seemingly had set up the things they did in DAI on purpose, so surely they had some idea of a complex and satisfying narrative that would reconcile everyone.

The reason why I was expecting this is because FFXIV did a very similar story arc, which was started AND concluded WITHIN those 10 years (so it took the FFXIV team far less time to deliver as well). And the conclusion to the story in FFXIV did what I was expecting Dragon Age to do. So I thought, "holy shit, if this is the FFXIV version of this plot, how much more complicated is DA4 going to be!?!?" The DA devs also PLAYED FFXIV so they were completely aware, several years ago, of a satisfying story ending that was pretty darn similar.

People are probably going to think "oh, well Chelsea was disappointed because she spent too much time building it up in her head" but that's exactly it - I actually speculated and thought about FFXIV's story IN DEPTH NONSTOP for a year+ before its ending came out, and the ending absolutely blew me away. FFXIV Endwalker managed to introduce information and new story elements that I was not able to figure out in the YEAR I spent speculating on the ending of FFXIV's story. It took a complicated situation and revealed several several more facets to it that I was not able to predict, but were very interesting and thematically compelling, and took us all to surprising and climactic places that we could not have predicted.

Endwalker ("end" is in the title on purpose) too, was written to be THE ULTIMATE SATISFYING ENDING for a very long-running story in the exactly way that Veilguard SHOULD HAVE for Dragon Age, so while this complexity is being explored, FFXIV also gave catharsis to many different plot threads that have been built up through the previous expansions, until finally it ends with a bang. The story is desperately good to me, I loved it, it gave me closure for Dragon Age long before Veilguard was even revealed, and going back and looking at its story has made this whole thing far less painful for me.

So, I actually did not have a picture in my mind for how things SHOULD go. I just had the thought "I hope it's complicated and there are points of view or facts that we haven't before been exposed to, and the situation is resolved respectfully for Solas, not making him look like a fucking idiot (lol, the only thing I asked for). I don't even care what happens to Solas and Lavellan, I just need the story to be complicated and interesting to think about. Please, god, don't let it be "solas is wrong and he just needs to be convinced" because that's like the simplest story you could tell with this setup"

(btw they managed to tell Emet-Selch's story without making him seem like he's being an idiot on purpose or can never get anything right, and in fact the more the story goes on, the more you think of him as smart and capable and cool, so it is possible to write.... I wasn't asking for the entire moon)

And I played it and... yeah. Most of the story beats were more simple than I wanted them to be, a lot of them didn't make sense in my heart given the writing from Inquisition. (This is another essay, but if Solas' thematic story arc was always about him needing to let go of regrets, why was his personal quest the way it was? After that quest, doesn't he end up regretting not doing more....? Why did he never really talk about regret during Inquisition? If he was so trapped by regret, why was he able to do so many actions? It doesn't mesh well to me. The whole regret thing was very quarter-baked to me, I don't even like thinking about it.) His story never seemed like one that was as simple as being about one man's regrets, but then, I guess, it was always just about one man's regrets.

Emet-Selch's personal storyline (and the way it interacts with and affects the larger story) is very similar but much more cohesive and satisfying to me. It would be difficult to explain why without the aforementioned 5-hour essay. Emet-Selch's story IS about grief and anguish on a world-shaping scale in a similar way that Solas' was apparently always about letting go of regret, but Emet's story was also very pointedly and beautifully about that one theme for the entirety of his story from every tiny detail, from beginning to end - meanwhile, it seemed to me that they tried to introduce 'regret' as the main thrust of Solas' story only in the short story with the Regret demon onward.

From Inquisition just by itself, the closest I personally could get to a story theme for Solas was his inability to trust others hurting him and the world, but his trusting others in DA4 wasn't really addressed to my satisfaction. He is never required to trust anyone before the ending, he never opens up or makes himself vulnerable at all. People find out information about him, he never really dynamically opens himself. So the personal story I thought he had was never addressed at all, while a new one about regret was introduced that never made a ton of sense to me. And I don't think this is just because of my expectations - my reaction to FFXIV proves that I am able to meet good writing where it goes in surprising directions, as long as it's interesting and thoughtful and clear.

And I think this might be part of what people felt was off about the ending - Solas is sort of uninvolved in the revelations that are about him, and doesn't do much to be part of his own ending. Part of what I loved about Solas in Inquisition is that he is not controlled by you in any way, and so he feels like his own person with a very strong sense of character.

Anyway, Emet-Selch, in a very comparable and arguably more extreme plot position, is very involved in the revelations about himself, he always feels like a very strong character who cannot be affected by the player, and the whole situation is handled with deft emotion and care and delicacy. The story is comparatively very uninterested in litigating Emet-Selch or putting him on trial - the story allows you to simply feel the way that you feel in an organic way, and Emet's story spends that energy instead actually exploring his thematic material about grief and legacy, and the larger story theme of existentialism instead, in a way that is very refreshing and interesting. I've seen a lot of western stories tie themselves in knots over "redemption" and frankly it's almost never been interesting at all. Who cares about any of that. lol

(Now, I guess this is a matter of preference, because some people really like being able to shape a character's story, but idk I rewatched the ending of FFXIV and even though there wasn't a choice with Emet, because it isn't a branching story, his story felt more satisfying to me, maybe because there isn't a patronizing choice to be made for him. He is who he is, and he fulfills a very beautiful narrative role and purpose that no other character could in the story.)

I don't know how this could have been improved to me and still allowed players to choose Solas' ending for him, but I can actually think of a few different methods, none of which involve Rook condescendingly and patronizingly lecturing Solas as if Solas had never thought about a single aspect of this horrible situation he's in before that very moment that Rook lectures him lmfao.

All this to say... idk I'm writing this and I am not going back to edit it so it's stream-of-consciousness. But yeah

I just wanted the story to be complicated on a few more levels than I could have predicted. I genuinely don't care what happened, but I thought of a few twists like the Veil coming down and yeah, I was expecting A Single Twist or reveal to happen. In a Dragon Age game.

I wanted Solas to seem cool and capable and noble and smart, and actually feel like he was as old and experienced as he is.

I wanted a clear theme I could sink my teeth into

Like notice I didn't even say anything about Solavellan. Like I never in 100 years thought they were getting a happy ending where they were both alive in bodies, and I like that we got that, but I would honestly trade it for a more complicated story. To me, if a story is sad you can always write fanfic, but if a story isn't COMPLICATED, that's a much more urgent issue.

These 3 things DA4 didn't give me in a way that satisfied me but FFXIV did. anyway idk the way my hyperfixations work, I completely switch to a new subject so talking about Dragon Age is actually hard for me right now.

[acynicalsweetheart]

Dad Jimmy and daughter reader sitting in his lap at a family gathering (like a holiday or smth idk) while she tries not to draw attention to him (not so) subtlety groping her and grinding on her under the blanket. By the time he finishes, he thinks he got away with it without his daughter or anyone else noticing..😇

hai made it curly’s family gathering cause jimmy’s family is dead or deadbeat to me… omfg somebody lynch me i am so bad at following requests sorry. i did NOT see the part ab daughter reader not noticing gosh. anyway… very new to writing jimmy so it kind of really sucks.. read cws!!

content warning: 18+, dead dove do not eat, daddy-daughter incest, non/dub-con, etc etc

“Would you look at that? The couch is all full!” Curly exclaims like he is a fucking sitcom character. Kind of how it goes when he tries to make a joke. Painfully unfunny, that is. His family members sit there like lobotomees, squeezing out half-aborted chuckles.

Jimmy plays along just to spite you.

“Too bad,” he pats your cheek twice—hard, “looks like you’ll have to sit on daddy’s lap tonight.” 

The way the color instantly drains from your face is too good, looking ghastly within a matter of seconds. Curly’s entire family be damned, his fourtieth-something birthday be damned, Jimmy feels like fucking the life back into your corpse.

Right here and now, ideally. He has no clue where that thought came from but it’s welcomed. 

“I’m sure there’s… a spare chair or something I can use.” You look around frantically, eyes scanning the living room like Jimmy having you in his lap is a fate worse than death. They land on your savior. “Right, Uncle Curly?” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Curly offers you a quick glance, finishes setting up a shitty movie he for some very peculiar fucking reason wants to watch with his family and Jimmy, to celebrate his midlife crisis milestone. 

Uncle Curly likes you, sure, but he likes Jimmy better. Takes about half a brain cell to see that. 

Jimmy grunts when he pulls you onto his lap, partly ‘cause he’s nearing Curly’s age (old) and partly ‘cause his dick is already kicking up a fuss in his pants. 

He hopes you can feel it.

“Dad? What are you—what is that?” You whisper obnoxiously loud when he grips your hips, moving his own against your ass. “Oh my gosh, is that your—“

“Shut up.” He interrupts before you can finish your babbling, it’s like you want to get smacked. 

Jimmy doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just did it ‘cause he felt like it and now he’ll keep going. Wring every possible reaction out of you because goddamn this birthday party is fucking boring. Where is the booze? The real booze, not some pesky little pint of wine. Curly’s an alcoholic, isn’t he? 

“You’re so gross!” 

Gross? Jimmy hasn’t even fucking done anything yet. Typical stuck-up bitch you are. Like being within several feet of your vicinity is enough to warrant a restraining order against him, an anti-Jimmy movement of some sort. 

He’ll show you how gross he can really be. 

Arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from escaping, Jimmy fumbles with the blanket - purely ‘cause he doesn’t want Curly’s entire bloodline to see his dick - and heads for the zipper of his—

“Is everything okay over there?” Goldilocks interjects. 

You flail like a toddler two seconds away from drowning, teasing Jimmy by putting all that friction against his cock. “Dad’s trying to—“

Trying to what? Fuck you? Maybe. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jimmy pinches your cheek and you grimace. “Think it might be that time of the month for the little lady here, if you know what I mean.”

He hears one of Curly’s relatives snicker under their breath. 

Your mouth falls open, nearly gasping out of shock. “That’s—“ 

Jimmy knows exactly what you were going to say. That’s so not true! Dad, that’s so fucking mean and unfeminist and bla bla bla, patriarchy, oppression—

“Alright,” Curly’s turn to cut you off, speaking directly to Jimmy like he owns you. That’s right. “Just try to keep it down, yeah? Movie’s just started.” And that’s that. 

“Dirty fucking bitch,” Jimmy presses his mouth to your ear, talking directly into it to feel you squirm against him. “You want them to see, huh?”

“No…” Please. Your panties are probably soaked already, comes with being related to Jimmy—you’re all fucked up.

His hands slide up your bare thighs, feeling the skin prickling up underneath his touch. You kick your legs, nearly hitting some Curly 2.0 in the process. Jimmy keeps going till he finds your mound and he is right like always—you’re wet.

No time to waste, Jimmy creeps under your panties, shamelessly rubbing away at your sticky little pussy, the slickness mildly audible. You’re gripping his wrist so hard beneath the blanket that Jimmy’s surprised he can’t feel your nails break. 

“Dad,” it’s halfway a whine, halfway a whisper, “dad, stop.” 

You’re terribly quiet, not kicking up a big enough fuss for someone who seemingly wants him to stop. Jimmy sinks two of his fingers past your entrance, feeling you stiffen in his lap like you’ve never had anything up there before. Can’t be true, you’re sucking him in like a fucking vacuum cleaner. 

“No.” He picks up his pace, your cunt squelching around his fingers under the blanket, damn near talking louder than the actors in the movie. 

You struggle to contain your own noises, clamping down around his fingers already. 

“You wish it was my cock inside you.” Jimmy tells you matter-of-factly, nips at your earlobe. 

“Eww,” you whimper, a brat even when getting fucking molested. Who raised you? ‘Cause it sure wasn’t Jimmy. 

He doubles down, “you want Uncle Curly to see what dad’s doing to you?” You squeeze him tighter, cheek hot against his. Of course.

Or one of his sisters perhaps. He wants to say… Wavy? Maybe the old fuck casually hogging up two couch cushions that may or may not be Curly’s father. Jimmy should thank him, really, wouldn’t be feeling your pussy gripping onto his fingers for dear life if it wasn’t for him. 

“Quit acting like you didn’t want this,” Jimmy’s fingers find your spongy spot, hitting it over and over ‘cause he knows it’ll have you cumming around him. “You’ve just been aching for daddy to touch you here, haven’t you?” Is all it takes for you to snap. Dirty fucking slut.

The moans get stuck in your throat, teeth biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as you cum—soaking his fingers and his pants and Curly’s blanket. Jimmy doesn’t stop, grinning at your mortified expression. 

Jimmy pulls out with a sloppy squelch after you’ve come down from your incestual high. You’re still frozen, looking like that bitch from The Shining with your open, unblinking eyes and discombobulation plastered all over your face. 

One of Curly’s sisters, or his mother, shoots him a nasty glare. If she’s so disgusted by Jimmy now, she’d have a fucking heart attack if she saw the other guys at the trailer park. Jimmy may look like a hobo from time to time, nothing he doesn’t already know. Plastic whores and their plastic attitudes. They disgust him. 

Braindead freaks. Jimmy practically fucked his daughter right under their noses and they didn’t notice a thing. 

“Act up like that again and I’ll pull my cock out, stick it in your hole for everybody to see.” He wipes off your cum on your thighs, pulling his hands away to keep you wrapped up in his lap. “No blanket.” 

[henkdeplank]

Phew, took me quite a while to respond to this. Sorry about that, had my final week of midterms and I really didn’t have any brain capacity left to respond in any semi-meaningful way.

First I want to emphasize that I am digging this story. Honestly its so interesting.

And I completely agree with you, I think it makes the most sense now that you’ve explained it. I think the HicLout dynamic is one of the most versatile ones, and in this context I think you’re right in that Hic might be able to diffuse (Is diffuse the right word? Does that make sense?) snotlout and get him onboard first. It would actually be quite nice to read another potentially ��good (cousin? Idk what you want to do about that) Snotlout” fic, since a lot of the fics I read paint him in quite a harsh way.

The premise that he doesn’t want to take part, but it’s kinda his only excuse so he has to is completely in character. And the fact that he doesn’t want to win dragon training makes sense aswell ofcourse, and its good that he realizes he has to rush so that astrid doesn’t kill Hookfang.

However, maybe you can play with the idea of letting the dragons go before the final exam, somehow? Idk if that fits into what you’ve got going right now, and idk how/if you would want to implement this, but I think that hiccup wouldn’t want to keep the dragons locked up in the cages. (They’re kinda inhumane, cuz they are kept in complete darkness and in a relatively small area for, say, a Monstrous Nightmare) Its a big undertaking, but maybe thats how you can manage to convince Astrid? They take the dragons to the woods (perhaps they stumble upon the cove? Thought with hiccup not finding toothless there…idk) and the now convinced teens go there to meet up with the dragons and start training with them, like actual flight training. One of the days astrid is perhaps suspicious and follows them, or she is frustrated and therefore already murdering trees, and then she sees them head through the forest and follows them, or something like that, whatever you get the gist. And then they have a confrontation and manage to convince her? (Perhaps with another round of “kidnap the viking girl and drop her atop a massive tree and give her no real choice”, who knows, could be fun)

Okay, sorry for the dump of thoughts and stuff. Idk if any of that made any sense, and I don’t know if you even care for the crap I’m currently outputting. Its just some random ideas, you’ve probably already thought about these types of things and considering I have 0 experience with writing I really don’t know a whole lot.

Safe to say though, in the past week when my mind wasn’t focused on my uni courses, it was most likely focused on this. I’ve never really engaged myself with the pre-fic happenings and ideas, if that makes sense? I usually just read the fic, and from there start thinking what if’s and whats-next’s, yaknow?

Anywhoo, if you made it this far, just another thank you. Its been a very nice distraction from the hellpit that is exams, and I’m very intrigued for this story.

HTTYD Fan Fic Idea

A Time-Travel Not! Fix-It

Uh, basically (I don’t know the cause but SOMEHOW) post-RTTE but pre-Drago Hiccup wakes up 3-4 years in the past in his 15 year-old body about a week before the day he shot down Toothless.

Cue in panicked attempts to figure out how that even HAPPENED and Hiccup trying to find a way back to his own time, while also knowing the raid that caused him and Toothless to meet and changed his life is fast approaching and “what if I can’t find a way back to my own time, what if I’m stuck here and what if I never see Toothless again if I don’t shoot him down like last time, I don’t want to hurt him, what if something WORSE HAPPENS TO HIM IF I DONT–“

And then he shoots the bola, afraid of the result, regardless of which one it ends up being.

And he misses.

And now he’s stuck without Toothless and trying to figure out how to fight the Red Death without his bud but also without putting anyone else in unnecessary danger, meaning he can’t just go around training dragons because his dad will do what he did last time–

So he tries to be discreet in the beginning.

Eventually he gets caught by someone from the gang for sneaking into the dragon arena after training hours and actually walking OUT of where the DRAGONS are. (I’m like 75% sure I’m gonna go with Snotlout.)

One thing leads to another, Hiccup connects the gang with their dragons. But also they’re left wondering “Okay, but where’s your dragon? How do you know so much and yet you never fly on one of your own?”

Cue in Hiccup missing Toothless and struggling to give them even a vague explanation to the situation and them not really getting it and trying to get his spirits up and pushing him to find a new dragon partner.

I’m not sure what happens next but I want a random chance encounter between Toothless and Hiccup at some point after this. And Hiccup is just standing there, SO happy to see his best friend and missing him SO much because he know Toothless hasn’t the slightest idea who he is.

But then maybe dragon hunters come after Toothless and when Hiccup hears about it he runs to the rescue and jumps in to protect Toothless (maybe even gets a little hurt in the process, don’t we like drama in this house).

Roughly around that time he finally tells the gang that he’s technically from the future? Because “Hiccup, WHY are you so obsessed with that dragon???” I have a little snipped of him and Astrid talking some time after the reveal.

Toothless is very confused by Hiccup’s behaviour but eventually decides to trust him and when Hiccup ends up in danger instead, Toothless moves in to protect him.

And that’s how they manage to find their way to each other!

I have no idea if I want to keep going with this plot in a way that it just settles back into canon to some extent, or if I want to let Hiccup go back to his own time eventually.

I would have to figure out if I wanna make the time travel make sense first or not. XD

But if it DOES end up making sense, I can see it as like young Hiccup and older Hiccup having switched places in time until one of them finds the solution and reverses their places.

Uuuuuh… typing that out made a lot of ideas flood into my brain. Ideas that may require of me to move some plot points around.

Oh yeah, for extra angst, of course I considered the option for older Hiccup to have been post-Drago Hiccup. Because him interacting with Stoick in the past would be… yeah.

But then like, that would imply he knows about his mom and the Sanctuary, and I kinda didn’t want him to because he could just fly there, meet his mom and then the whole fic turns into him trying to help the dragons by trying to get his parents to just MEET.

… which would be an interesting fic that I wouldn’t mind reading either, but my focus here is different. XD

Also, in the case of a switch, I didn’t wanna put young Hiccup through the pain of finding out his dad is dead and he’s chief now.

…

So that was a long rant.

I guess I’m dropping this off here because as many fanfic ideas as I do have, I write them out impossibly slowly. So I just gave snippets of this thing. Not a single even half-way done chapter.

And it would be sad if this never sees the light of day, you know? I need more “Hiccup and Toothless would die for each other” centric fanfics in my life.

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Never Too Late - Part One: The Awakening

This is something entirely different from the things I've written before. I don't know what made me want to write this beyond hearing one of Adar's lines from S2E8. For those who stick around for this ride, thank you in advance. I know this might not be everyone's cup of tea, but here we go nonetheless! Things will begin (I hope) to make more sense in the second chapter.

Disclaimer: I know this is not how the Maiar or the Valar or any of canon works. I do not care. This writer is playing in a sandbox.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Maia!Reader

[A/N: There will be smut in future chapters, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: An exploration of Adar's origins, discussions of the first Elves, Elf x Maia romance, he falls first, feelings of unworthiness, fear, Morgoth's manipulation (discussed further in later chapters), brief mentions of pain, regret.

~*~

The whisper of the wind in the trees was hypnotic to the Elf with no name. He was among the first to wake. He'd tasted the sunlight as it spilled across his lips in gentle caresses for the first time. Warmth had trickled into his limbs, and soon he'd found himself wandering happily, joyfully through a meadow full of flowers.

For a time he continued in that manner, exploring the world around him, lying in the sun on a riverbank, tasting the sweetness of berries as they hung ripe in the sunlight. Occasionally he would encounter others who looked like him. Other Elves who did not yet have names. Though they did not know it, they would earn them in time.

A small group formed together, giving each other names and forming a small community in the newly-made world. In time, he found that he enjoyed crafting words into set structures, playing with them as one of the other Elves toyed with carving wood, and as another painted pictures.

As he tinkered, he found that the name given to him was not right. It did not fit him correctly. The meaning was not how he saw himself, but he did not argue it, choosing instead to string more words together. They could know him however they wished, but that name was not how he knew himself. The land, the light, and the beauty of the world inspired him to create stories and poems. After a time, however, he found that the flow of his words had slowed in favor of simply experiencing that which he found so lovely.

So, when the thought struck him to walk along the riverbank he favored so much and listen to the birds singing in the trees, he did not hesitate to strike out. Familiar sights and scents surrounded him, wrapping him in a veil of contentment.

Then a different sound met his ears: the gentle whisper of fabric amongst the breeze. The Elf's green eyes opened curiously, and he looked around him for what could have made such a noise. His own clothing - brown leggings and an off-white tunic - were too silent to have done so.

That was when he caught a glimpse of her for the first time. She seemed to glow of her own accord, despite the brightness of the sunlight streaming down upon them. A dress that seemed to glimmer in the light adorned her, translucent and bright. But it was her eyes that drew him to her. They met his for barely a moment, but in that glance, the Elf felt as though she called to his fëa.

She gave him a small smile, and flitted back into the trees as quickly as she'd appeared. So amazed was he by the appearance of such an ethereal creature that he could do no more than follow mutely in her path.

But, he did not find her that day, nor the next. For nearly a fortnight, all he had to remember her by were the dozen-or-so poems that had poured forth from his mind the night after spotting her. He read them aloud to himself by the riverbank amongst the swaying sage blossoms as he tried to perfect them. She - whoever she was - had captivated him and deserved no less than the most perfect tribute.

The way she'd smiled at him made him long for more. To see her laugh, to watch a sunset with her, to feel the rain dampening his skin as he held her in his arms. Undoubtedly, this was something important. He'd seen other Elves feel this way about each other, but never about one who was so clearly Other. Granted, their existence was young, but without a precedent, the Elf wondered what he was to do about these feelings.

Midway through the revision of one the poems he'd written for her, he paused his reading and scratched out a line in favor of a correction. He was so lost in his work that he did not register the sound of approaching footsteps until someone knelt in the grass beside him. The Elf looked up and–

Paralyzed by the warmth in her gaze, he was amazed to find the very woman he'd been writing about was less than a hand's breadth from him. The wind swirled around them, blowing a few strands of his dark hair into his face. Before he could fix it, however, she reached up and brushed it carefully behind one of his pointed ears. Her touch lingered for a beat longer than it should have, and the Elf felt his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Her skin was softer even than that of his own people! He could write for years about the simple sensation of being so close to her.

"Such beautifully-crafted words." Her praise was more nourishing than even the most filling meal.

"For you, my lady," he admitted in barely a whisper. "All for you. No greater beauty have I seen in all my days as a part of this world."

His voice was so quiet that he was afraid the breeze might spirit it away before it reached her ears, but she heard him. Of course she heard him. A warm smile stretched her lips, and a silvery laugh spilled from her throat.

"Oh? And what have I done, kind wordsmith, to earn such a gift?"

'Existing' was the simple answer, but he could not say that aloud. It was too honest, too forward. She would surely be offended by such a low creature's desires. He shook his head quietly.

"Wonders deserve to be praised, híril vuin," he murmured dropping his gaze to his paper.

"Then, should you not be writing about yourself?" He question drew an incredulous laugh from him, but she was entirely serious. "The light of the Valar lives within your people."

He shook his head.

"You are light itself," he asserted. "I could hope for no greater a muse than you."

They spoke for many hours that day and for many days after. Those days added up, and the pair continued to meet beside the river or amongst the trees, speaking of everything and nothing, wandering where they wished.

He did not mention having seen her to the others, but he did overhear a few of them, one night. They were speaking around a fire, taking turns speaking about the Valar and the Maiar. He paid no mind until one of them mentioned something familiar.

"One of the Maiar hides within the woods near the river," the blond Elf said. "She has been glimpsed, but none of spoken to her. I witnessed her eyes glowing from deep in the trees, but before I could approach, she disappeared."

"Why would one of the Maiar hide in the forest, much less take a physical form?" One of the others with brown hair asked.

"Who can tell? It is not our place to know the minds of the Valar or the Maiar," the blond said decisively, and at that, the group began dispersing for the night. Only the blond Elf and remained when the Elf with no name approached him.

"What does she look like, the Maia in the forest?" He asked, knowing in the racing of his pulse that it was her to whom he'd spoken and about her whom he'd been writing. It was as obvious as the leaves on the trees and the sun in the sky.

"None can see any details beneath her glow, but that is not unusual. Those who have caught sight of the Maiar say that they only show themselves to those whom they wish. They can hide their visages, only taking physical forms when they choose to do so."

When he retired to bed that night, he clung desperately to the secret of their conversations together. She had chosen to reveal herself to him and only him. Even if he did not know why, he was honored, and he hoped he could one day prove himself worthy of her trust.

As the days became months, then years, there was a particular bend in the river where he would meet his lady. Wandering for hours, sometimes days, he became as close with her two people could without delving openly into the realm of romance, though, he did harbor those feelings for her. His heart raced whenever she was near, and he knew that should he ever have a family, he would want it to be with her.

But, he was not worthy. He never would be. No matter how much he may want a daughter with his hair and her eyes, or a son who favored his mother's light, an Elf could never be worthy of one a Maia's love.

As he returned one night, musing over his situation and feeling his heart twist itself into knots over the futility of his love, he found the others in an uproar.

"What has happened?" He called as he neared the group of terrified Elves.

"Three of our number rode out earlier. They were meant to return at sundown, but it is near midnight and there is no sign of them," one of the painters said, twisting the sleeve of his robe compulsively.

"They could simply be late." One of the others said trying to calm the group, but the painter wasn't swayed.

"No, they are lost! Taken! There was something dark at work this morn. Two of the three who left expressed misgivings about the Valar ere they left." With their numbers added, that made seven so far who had disappeared. "'Tis the darkness! The shadows seek to blot out the light, even that within our hearts."

That was the beginning of his trouble. Hearing his kin speak of such darkness ignited within him a curiosity. He wished to understand why those who left chose to do so. Why would they willingly put themselves at risk when they had everything they needed here? The Valar provided for them in abundance. Why should they seek the bleak nothingness of the shadow?

So, in his attempts to understand, he began to study that which he should not. The shadow no longer seemed as dangerous to him, but a welcome respite from the perfection of the light.

In his zeal, he began visiting the river bend less frequently, but his lady appeared no less glad to see him when he did make the trip to see her. On the last of such occasions - which he had no way of knowing was the last - the sun was gentle, the river babbled away happily, and the trees shivered beneath a soft breeze. Everything was sweet and lovely...perfect.

Even the way she looked at him was particularly tender. He read her his latest composition, but he found midway through that his words, as excellently chosen as they always were, did not adequately express how he felt about her. Eventually, her fingers laid atop his arm, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Darling wordsmith, what troubles you?" She asked, and he felt exposed before her. Guilt wound its way through his heart for having explored what he ought not. Would she recoil from him? Cast him from her sight forever? Instead of a confession, however, a question slipped from his tongue without his permission.

"It has been said that one of the Maiar wanders this wood. Are you she?" He asked, and she did not hesitate to smile up at him.

"I am, but you have known that for quite some time." Brushing a few strands of his dark hair behind his ear as the wind shifted, she lifted an eyebrow. "Now, what truly troubles you?"

Swallowing nervously, he caught her wrist lightly in his grasp, laying a reverent kiss upon her skin. He had never been so bold before. He had never dared touch her or express his adoration so openly.

She did not object or move away.

"I trust you have heard about the Elves who have disappeared?" She nodded her head even as her expression became solemn. "I have been considering a course of action for some time, and...I intend to seek them out."

The Elf with no name looked for the woodland Maia's reaction only to find tears gathering in her eyes and spilling slowly down her cheeks - sparkling, diamond droplets seemingly glowing of their own volition. The sight lit a spark of alarm within his breast, constricting his lungs and urging him forward until he'd gathered her in his embrace.

With a bit of adjustment, she sat in his lap with her face buried in the crook of his neck and her arms around him. He held her close, but he could not find the right words to say to her. Ultimately, he murmured to her his apologies and felt one of her hands glide onto the back of his neck. Her lips brushed against the shell of his ear, and she spoke barely above a breath.

"Should you need me, you need only call my name." She told it to him, and he could not help clutching her tighter at the sound of that word encapsulating all that she was. Eventually, she pulled back just far enough to press her forehead softly against his own. "I will always come when you call. All I ask is that you do not surrender your own light. You will need it ere long."

Her nose touched his briefly as he swore to her that he would do as she said, and grief coiled in his heart when he felt how damp her skin was. He had not meant to make her weep. Reaching carefully up, he cupped her face in his warm palms and whispered quiet comforts. She deserved more than this - every happiness in the world, in fact - but he would still give her all that he was able.

Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to be bound to her as her husband. An Elf could never be worthy of a Maia, but he imagined what it would be like to be entangled with her like this every day. Her tears or her laughter, soft sighs or pleasure-filled breaths - anything she chose to give him would be a gift beyond measure, just as this moment was.

She allowed him to comfort her, to hold her. He savored the contact, even if he did regret bringing her unwelcome news. They stayed there on the riverbank until long past midnight. The moonlight, gentle and cleansing, caressed their faces as they lay down in each other's arms. Quietly, he caressed her face, tracing the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips, the softness of her smile.

When they eventually parted, it was only after she'd placed her hand over his heart, whispering words in a language which he did not understand. Her fingers had begun to glow, and that light bled slowly into his chest, floating seemingly beneath his skin until her touch retreated. He did not know what she'd done, but the determined glint in her eyes made him wonder if it was some form of protection.

With great reluctance, he returned to his home. Before the next morning dawned, however, a call trickled into his ears, rousing him from his rest. It was time. All that he ever desired awaited him. He need only seek it. Low, guttural, and tugging at his very being, the voice - if it could be called a voice - dug a tendril of shadow into his mind.

He and five others rode away before daybreak.

The journey was a blur, and when he came back to himself, he found that all six of them were in a cave. Their horses were gone.

The Elf with no name looked around him but could perceive only darkness. Only shadows writhing and dancing before him. He'd been tricked. This was not the liberation he'd been led to believe the others had sought, nor was this something from which he could save them.

"Who are you? What do you want from us?" He called into the oblivion surrounding him, and a sinister laugh curled from its depths scratching fear from deep within the Elf's heart. The other five shuddered as well, but smiles broke across their faces. Was he alone in his regret?

"I am Morgoth." The voice seemed to echo and twine through the darkness, through the air, and bury itself deep within his heart. The Elf with no name dropped to his knees along with his kin.

He assumed that the voice in the darkness, the being who called himself Morgoth, would kill them. Mournfully, he recalled the face of his lady, his muse, his joy. How disappointed she would be with his actions! When she visited the river next, she would not find him there. No longer would he be able to write and recite poetry for her. Gone were the days wandering through the forest with her, seeking its privacy for their conversations.

He had not been worthy of her - his current position proved that - but he still lamented the thought that his death would sadden her. Her gentle spirit would not allow the death of a friend - low creature though he may be - to pass without notice. He had seen her weep before and it nearly shattered him to pieces even as he comforted her. He would not be there to do so this time.

The darkness rumbled again, and this time, pain streaked up his legs, making him crumble to the ground as he cried out.

"Six you are, and seven have come before you. Those who survive will be rewarded, but live or die, you are mine, now."

What had he done?

~*~

Taglist:

@asksizworld @bigblissandlove1 @gandalfthepimp @horta-in-charge @zoya-olenko

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[invinciblevalentine]

atp i would snort reeve tuesti fic like cocaine.

if anyone knows any fics that put reeve through the blender like “Son” by She_sees_in_the_dark or “Through Another’s Eyes” by CorsairOriginal—

i need to see that man under enough pressure to make a diamond crack. For my health.

[danidoesathing]

hey remember that one horror fic i mentioned i was doing like a month or two ago. yeah finished it

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[sukugo]

sukuna and gojo use binding vows for sex, taking things like orgasm denials or touch deprivation steps further, where the other is contractually bound to not be able to do certain things, like touch themselves or touch the other etc etc 

one such instance being a vow where gojo has a vibrator up his ass, but he can't touch himself or remove it, until sukuna specifically, pulls it out.  

he keeps the vibe in throughout the day, with sukuna controlling it remotely, even as they both go throughout their separate days.  

gojo goes to have his usual breakfast, and meets yuuji at the dining room, they greet and sit next to each other. yuuji is, as always, energetic and excited to see him 

they make conversation, until gojo gives a jolt and starts twitching and huffing. sukuna has turned the vibrator up all the way. yuuji worries and panics and asks him what's wrong. gojo gives a breathy laugh and reassures him. he motions low and tells yuuji about the vibrator inside him, through sudden jolts and soft whimpers.  

satoru complains about it, and yuuji advices to remove it or go and take care of himself.  

except gojo states that he can’t and yuuji puzzles.  

"it's... a pact—mmh!" 

"a pact???" yuuji's voice rises in volume, but he visibly calms, shoulders dropping into a fond sigh. "sensei, you really are..." that's all he can manage to say. reprimand is useless. gojo likes it, yuuji is well aware, he is enjoying every second of this, even as he complains.  

gojo gives a few odd jolts, undoubtedly an odd pattern of intensity from the vibe, yuuji can guess. sudden irregular ups and downs that are not taken well by the man.  

satoru clicks his tongue. "what is that guy doing?" he actually looks irritated for a moment—a look yuuji doesn’t get to see often—until it’s broken with a sigh and his pleased, calm demeanor returns, mimicking the soft waves of pleasure across his thighs. 

still, yuuji can see his hands crumpled at his sides, undoubtedly wishing to use them.  

that's when satoru perks flares up all of a sudden.  

"actually, yuuji,” he turns to look at him, grinning. “you can help me" he opens his legs and lifts the edges of his kimono, his dick peeking out the fabric. yuuji gulps at the sight. satoru motions to it, giving yuuji a wordless look. yuuji hesitates for a moment, but complies, taking his hand to the cock, and starts stroking. 

satoru crumbles under the touch, immediately breathing out his nose and muffling moans. he leans into yuuji, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, fingers clasped in yuuji's kimono, nuzzling into his hair and whining in his ear.  

satoru's sounds fluctuate in pitch and volume, making it known when his vibe's gotten stronger. yuuji keeps his pace and satoru spills in his hand. he twitches and sighs, soft breaths against yuuji's flushed ear. 

yuuji stares at the cum in his hand.  

"you can wipe it on me,” satoru tells him with a breath that's calmed much too fast. “my clothes are already soiled anyways". and yuuji feels bad for it, but he obeys nonetheless.  

satoru takes a hand to yuuji's chin and turns his face to him and gives him a kiss. short and sweet.  

"as a reward." he smiles at yuuji. the boy surprises but takes it happily, cheeks warm and eyes softened, albeit a bit timidly. a tinge of disappointment colors the edges of his face. 

"you want more?" satoru brings his face to yuuji's again. the vibrations have reached a slight plateau, so his voice is steadier.  

yuuji’s face widens a bit, but he nervously chuckles, pulling back from gojo's face. "no, it's alright," he lies. "i don't want sukuna to kill me" 

but satoru’s already pulling into him, breathing into his lips. "i won't let him <3"

"that's...actually reassuring......" yuuji’s eyes flutter shut as satoru's lips meet his again.  

and with that, they're kissing and slowly the vibrations and gojo’s twitching start again. satoru moves atop yuuji's lap to straddle him, and while they kiss, yuuji takes his hand between them and jerks him off again. satoru moans and gasps into his mouth, each jolt mirroring the pulses against his prostate.  

they separate for gojo to bury his face in yuuji's shoulders, arms hugging his neck. he humps into yuuji's hand until he comes against him again. 

he pants and huffs atop the boy, catching his breath. yuuji's gentle arms hold him, fingers rubbing slow circles at his back.  

satoru's breathing calms against yuuji’s neck. 

"yuuji, u're such a good boy."  

yuuji's heart and dick swell. 

[triglycercule]

dust and horror angel and demon themes,,,, they could totally parallel each other...... :3

dust=angel of death described in the delta rune prophecy (self declared) (i DEFINITELY elaborated on this one waayyyy before but anyways dust with a fucked up savior complex SAVE ME SAVE ME.... death is a blessing ass guy. life is torment and he will be the one to liberate monsters from their bodies and with the strength they provide to him be able to take down evil evil creation of pure misery that is the human ✨✨✨ dont worry his evil cackles are to HIDE HIS PAIN of saving everyone....... trust)

horror=demon that dragged everyone in horrortale into hell (as perceived by everyone else) (i think it would be a cool hc if everyone outside of snowdin viewed horror as literally a demon. maybe undyne preaches that. anyone outside of snowdin might be WAYYY worse because they starve for longer and literally take part in cannibalism so they might not have the same sort of mild sanity that snowdin residents do,,,, besides he DID kinda bring them all eternal suffering. kinda. nobody but undyne knows what happened at the core so she could totally just paint the story to blame horror fully)

ANYWAYS i like the possible dynamics this could have :333

dust to horror (please let me kill you PLEASE let me kill you i can end it all so peacefully wouldn't it be nice??? i promise ill make it quick just for you),,, horror to dust (i want you to live and suffer with what youve done i want you to watch all of your choices hit you one day and i'll be there and laugh at you. i'll keep you alive just to keep you suffering ok?)

OR dust to horror (you dont deserve to die you dont deserve to even be hurt by me. not because youre the exception but youre the Exception i absolutely loathe you so youll never get the sweet release of death :3) and horror to dust (just let me die already i dont wanna be here. youre supposed to be a savior right??? an angel?? then why don't you save me already when i need it more than anyone else)

[z-shalltear]

River 🩵

River my second beloved is from @unsentmemory

Extra:

🩵🎀

It was a faintly chilly evening, though he didn't do more than give the ground a cursory scan before pinching the bridge of his nose as his head throbbed. Having to do the loads of paperwork to get discharged from the hospital without proper vision was exhausting. Being hospitalized was exhausting. His eyes trailed along the blurry winding stairs in the lobby and he silently swore at his landlord for never fixing the elevator.

"Are you sure I can't carry you up?" Even without his glasses and an overgrown fringe obscuring his vision he could see River pouting and holding his arms out expectantly. As if he would easily accept the offer. Shalls winced.

River, his supposed boyfriend of three years, that he'd forgotten about after the crash. When he first came to, River was by his side, gently holding onto his hand. Though, he looked heartbroken having to pull away once seeing Shalls’ uncomfortable expression. Suffering from amnesia brought its own head ache, literally, but he still felt guilt for completely forgetting about his long-time boyfriend. He tucks his phone into his pocket, his gaze lingering at his empty clear phone case, as if it was missing something.

Shaking his head, he tugs on the plastic gloves he stole from the hospital. A sick, stifling feeling in his chest as he considers River's open arms. Despite being unable to make out River’s expression with his blurred vision, he could tell he was disappointed by his refusal with the way his shoulders sagged and arms dropped to his sides. Relying on body language seemed his best bet so far with understanding others.

His friends were initially skeptical about the lack of evidence about the supposed relationship and he admittedly was as well. Though his dislike for taking photos of himself didn't help in that matter. River excitedly showed some candid shots he had taken of Shalls, many far away while he wasn't looking, and one while he was curled up sleeping as River’s hand held his. Although still mildly confused, it did ease his discomfort somewhat.

The blue head of hair coming into view reminded Shalls he hadn't responded properly.

He gnaws on the inside of his cheek, looking up at the looming set of uneven stairs. Even with his glasses he could vaguely remember having to watch his step, he wasn't looking forward to seeing (ha) how it would go with his shitty vision.

He sighs. “Just come here and walk next to me.” River bounds over happily, itching to hold their hand though refraining.

Shalls grips River's jacket carefully. That seemed to be the only thing he could tolerate at the moment.

The two make their way up towards Shalls’ apartment. Shalls felt as if he was walking into the unknown as he was led along by the stranger next to him he had to put his trust in.

[johnslittlespoon]

ok 1. these are my tough and sweet drafting docs, i have never been this insane about outlines in my life this is what getting on adhd meds does to a man. someone sedate me (i have also Never drafted out a fic until i started writing for this fandom jfc) (also sry i forgot to mute spotify b4 making the vid and i cbf to reexport)

and 2. i think i've mapped out the whole storyline for TAS gahhh my heart already hurts. i'm pretty set on an ending and it's gonna rip my heart out to write (in the best way) but leaves space for a long epilogue (or possibly even a second fic lol we'll see if my interest holds, i either fixate for a few weeks on an idea or i'm locked in for a year). as of now the fic will be set from july 2005 to june 2006 + the epilogue aughghgh but i gen have sm more i could write if i were to do a time skip and write a second fic, i just have so many other aus i wanna write if i can prove to myself i can commit to chaptered fics like this so :')

all the major events are plotted, most gaps in between are filled with the scenes i've been brainstorming in my docs, but i'm sure i'll come up with plenty more as i go knowing how i operate rip lol. esp going thru asks, i still have so many to get back to regarding tas i'm sorryyy!! honestly sometimes i read them and have to go straight to my doc to plot and then i forget to respond to the actual ask lol y'all are cooking <3

this fic is gonna be sooo long, def longer than yadiym. i'm thinking minimum 12 chapters if i end up sticking to this stupid long wordcount per chapter but the story/plot keeps expanding as i write so i'm probably gonna eat my words and idm as long as i can keep myself fixated/inspired lol :')

also don't mind me i'm just yapping to myself atp bc it helps me to post my progress somewhere other than in my notes app so i can refer back easier and also bc it makes me hold myself accountable if i speak it into the universe lmaoo i'm peer pressuring myself xoxo

[boyfriendyke]

there r a lot of things about the myth of psyche and eros that makes me a little insane but one of them has always been the tasks from aphrodite and the unfairness of it. they're not intended to be possible. they're so obviously not meant to be possible, and psyche isn't fucking hercules, you know, she's not a demigod or whatever, she's mortal and these aren't mortal tasks!! it's why psyche has to be helped with each one, fucking by like ants and river gods and shit. and so like. idk. i know ppl see psyche and eros as like a story about love and shit which obviously it is but as a kid psyche and eros always felt like a story about being able to accept help

[lemonlimestar]

:/

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

pov you’ve just reread the yi city arc… except that clearly wasn’t ENOUGH because of course your analysis brain had to take over and search for parallels, so you have to go and reread and save the most depressing WWX scenes right after…

i’m fine :))

[skunkes]

unsure how to word this but there is something about having ocs with unsavory events happening in their past where it's like. talking about it, even when asked, seems almost gratuitous and inappropriate. and i'd much rather describe it through the oc themself and/or draw Them saying it. which is like. fitting for the subject matter? like of course its weird to talk about somebody else's business...!

and falls back into humanizing em/exploratory writing and development where u consider the impact of words said/words unsaid/HOW those words are said etc etc